Page 123 of Blue

“I need to go,” I said, barely able to eke out the words with the lump lodged in my throat.

“Sure. Whatever.”

“I’m sorry.” I fought the tears knowing that if I walked away from her she would continue to use. Then I remembered all the times Jazzy and Levi begged me to quit. The broken trust in Romeo’s eyes when I’d still manipulated him from a hospital bed after I’d overdosed. Dozer and Blade avoiding me because I’d become toxic to our group.

A fresh wash of regret coursed through me. I remembered learning that my friends had dumped me in the parking lot of a bar rather than call a paramedicfor help when I overdosed. The MC came before my life, but I didn’t blame them. I wouldn’t play the victim of a tragedy I’d created for myself.

Two weeks wasn’t long, but it was a hard two weeks. My sobriety meant too much to me. This time I had to follow the advice of the program giving my life back to me. I had to be selfish.

“When you’re ready to get help, the program will still be here for you. People care about you. Brad cares about you.”

Her mouth pulled into a sneer as her gaze traveled down my body. “Look at you. Perfect body, blonde hair, blue eyes. You don’t have to try for people to like you, and you think you have all the answers.”

She didn’t know me at all. A junkie mother, a dead father, and a history of bad decisions, broken promises, and self-destruction. “I don’t have any of the answers. I only know that using again isn’t going to make losing Janie any easier.”

“Shut up! You don’t know anything about me.”

“I am you.” Tears spilled onto my cheeks. “And I know that no one could make me stop. I didn’t want to get sober because I liked getting high.”

“The bathroom isn’t the place for a share. Save it for the meeting.”

“And the bathroom at an NA meeting isn’t the place to shoot up. I want to help you, but I’m smart enough to know I can’t make you want to get clean, and that my trying will have me back on the needle.”

I fled from the bathroom, making my way to the meeting. Brad and Ryatt saved me a seat between them. “Georgia is in the bathroom,” I whispered. “She’s high. I’m pretty sure I’ve upset her. I don’t know what to do.”

Brad was out of his seat and running from the room. Ansel paused in talking, his gaze following Brad out of the room. “Excuse me,” he said, asking an older gentleman in the room to take over meeting business.

Ryatt shifted his gaze from me to over his shoulder.

“Go. I’ll wait here.” I’d said enough.

I didn’t know the guy leading the meeting, but when Ansel hadn’t returned after several minutes, he opened the floor to sharing.

Someone spoke, then another. I barely listened because my focus was on the emptiness around me. I was uncomfortable alone. Ten minutes passed. And then fifteen more. The meeting was nearly over by the time Ryatt slipped into the chair next to me.

“I’ll tell you after,” he whispered.

Before the next person spoke, Brad entered the room and sat next to me. Red splotches stained his cheeks, and his eyes were puffy. I leaned against him and rested my head on his shoulder.

He was hurting. Georgia was using again, but at least she wasn’t dead. And that meant she still had a chance to change her life.

Blue

I finished up with Rogue and Bullet at the dance studio, checked in with Dozer at the shop, then sent a text to Kiss that I was on my way over to Sully’s to grab her. As I throttled the bike, I thought about what Rogue and Bullet had said.

When I was ready…

Over the last six months, I’d gotten to know Bullet. He was good to his girls, but didn’t take shit from anyone. A total badass biker, former pimp who liked tofight as much as he liked pussy. But Bullet had another side, someone who collected favors and kept secrets.

In just a couple days, he had a file coming together on Carl Douglas. He wanted to do surveillance on Carl, his home, and his work. Although he didn’t want me doing it because he didn’t want to take the chance of Carl noticing me.

Rogue and Bullet were planners, taking into account every contingency. He said to give him at least another forty-eight hours, and then…

When I was ready…

Talking about confronting Carl, and actually ambushing him for retribution felt different. One filled me with fire. I relished the thought of confronting him, threatening him, and proving to him he didn’t break me. I’d patched into a motorcycle club. I ran with Hellers. And I’d like to see him try to touch me now. I’d break every fucking bone in his body. But the very real idea of standing in front of him, knowing what he’d done to me and, worse, what I’d done to him, stabbed fear into my chest.

If my memories weren’t enough reason to go after him now, what would it take for me to get ready? I wasn’t sure because I still felt his threats like ice in my veins. He still scared me.

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