Page 45 of Sophia, Property of Tracker

“Hi Tracker, how are you?” Tash asks her question, seeming genuine.

“Good, Tash. How are you?” Tash is wearing high heels in a short black dress that wraps around her body. Her blonde hair is in a ponytail, and her face is covered in makeup just like I remember.”

“I’ve been okay.”

“Good to hear. I’ll catch you later.”

Before I can walk away, she stops me. “Tracker, I came here because I need to have a word with you about something.”

“Here’s your beer. And who’s this?” Sophia hands me a beer, and I accept it.

Great, just what I need.

“Sophia, this is Tash. Tash this is Sophia, my woman.”

“Hi, Tash, it’s nice to meet you.” Sophia places her hand out to Tash, but Tash ignores it and instead looks at me.

“Tracker, can we talk, please?” She has a look of urgency on her face. I don’t know what she’s up to, but I’m not falling for it. Tash is a club whore, and whore’s have no business talking to a brother that has a woman.

Shaking my head, I reply, “Not gonna happen, Tash.”

She snaps her mouth shut, irritation now evident on her face.

“Maybe you should go, Ryan,” Sophia states, and I snap my head to hers.

“What? No. I don’t need to speak to her.” I turn to Tash but continue my conversation with Sophia. “Whatever she has to say, don’t mean shit to me.”

Tash places her hands on her hips, anger projecting from her body. “Is that right, Tracker? Well, let me tell you…” She growls, then reaches into her bag and pulls out something. She snatches my hand and slams something in it. Slowly, I open it and look at what she’s placed there. It’s a picture of Tash holding a toddler. I look closer and bring it to my eyes so I can get a better look. “Does he look familiar, Tracker? Mmm… if he does, maybe it’s because he’s your son.”

No this can’t be right.

I bring the photograph closer to my face having a good look. His eyes are the same color as mine, his skin is also tanned like mine. I can see a resemblance, but seriously, he can’t be mine. There’s no way in hell she would not have mentioned I had a kid all these years.

“Good try, Tash,” I say, grabbing her hand and giving her back the photograph. “What is it you want? Money? Well, you’re shit outta luck. That isn’t my child.”

“Oh really?” she replies, placing the photograph back in her bag. “If that’s so, then why the resemblance? You know, Tracker, I didn’t know I was pregnant. Wasn’t till I was five months when I found out, and when I did, I came here to tell you, but you were too busy with this whore,” she says pointing to Sophia.

Shit, Sophia, I forgot she was here.

Looking directly at her, I notice she’s standing in shock with wide eyes, and she hasn’t moved. “Sophia, baby, are you okay?”

She comes out of her dreamlike state, blinks her eyes a few times, and then looks at me. “Sorry, I just need a minute.” She goes to turn to leave, but I hold her still by grabbing her wrist. “Please don’t leave. She’s nothing but a goddamn liar.”

Sophia places her free arm on my hand and removes it from her wrist. “Ryan, Ineeda minute. Please let me go.”

Looking at her face, I can tell she’s serious.Shit, what kind of bullshit is Tash spilling.I let go because, by the look on her face, she’s seriously going to lose her shit if I don’t let her go. And when do, I watch as she walks toward my room. Then I turn to face Tash, who has a smirk on her face.

“Come with me!” I growl, grabbing her arm and leading her out of the clubhouse.

“You’re hurting me, Tracker. Let go,” she begs, trying to pull away from me, but my grip is too strong, and I don’t let her go.

Once we’re outside, I slam her up against the brick wall. “What are you playin’ at, Tash? What do you want? This is about money, isn’t it?” I rest my palms on either side of her against the wall keeping her caged. “You need money and thought you’d try your tricks on me.” I remove one arm and point to her. “Well, it ain’t gonna work. He ain’t my son, and that’s that.”

Tears now fall down her face, and all I can think about is what a great actress she is.

“She places her hand on my cheek. “Tracker, baby, he’s yours… he is. I suffered a really bad pregnancy and moved in with my mom back in Boston. She helped me look after Ryan and supported us. She convinced me you had a right to know you had a child. I wasn’t going to tell you, but we need some help. Little Ryan needs to have an operation on his heart, and I can’t afford the operation. Your son needs your help.”

Removing her hand from my face, I glare at her and take a step back. “You’re low. You’ll say anything for money, you should be ashamed. What kind of mother lies like this?”

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