Page 2 of Property of Indiana

Biting my bottom lip, I watch as she scuttles around her room, leaping into her closet and when she doesn’t find them, she crawls on all fours until only her little butt is waving through the air as she scoots under her bed. “Found them, Mama!”

“Yes!” I shout, tossing my arms up in the air in celebration, even though I knew that’s where they were to begin with. She needed to see that for herself. “I knew you could do it.”

Her beaming smile of pride consumes me with joy. It’s the little victories that matter. “Come on, baby girl, let's finish getting ready so we can get our shop on.”

Twenty minutes later, I gulped down my room temperature coffee, grabbed my wallet plus keys, and we’re off.

“Don’t forget my donut, Mama,” Elodie reminds me.

“I’d never forget, love bug. You earned that and chocolate milk.”

“I love chocolate milk,” she squeals.

“I know, baby. Believe me, I know,” I tell her as I shoot her a smile through the rearview mirror. Turning my XM radio onto the Disney channel, we sing along to the showtunes as we go through the drive thru line for our sugary breakfast and then head to the mall.

I grip my steering wheel when I see how full the parking lot is. I know we’re bound to run into somebody I know, which has my anxiety amping up to a near full-blown attack. When I turn the car off, my head falls back into the headrest and I count to ten, using the techniques my trauma therapists taught me.

“You can do this. You are not a victim, you’re a survivor,” I remind myself. “Nobody has the capacity to make you feel like something you’re not.”

“You okay, Mama?” my angel asks from the backseat.

“I’m okay, baby. You know how I hate crowds,” I fib, but since this is a lie of omission that keeps her happy and innocent from the evils of this world, I’ll forgive myself for it.

“Come on, El. The Disney store is having a sale and we’re going to put a dent in their inventory.”

“What’s that? Inve… invatstory?”

“That’s the word stores use to keep track of how much clothes and toys they have,” I explain as I help her out of her booster seat.

“Can I get a Mickey Mouse shirt?” she asks, grabbing my hand.

“Absolutely,” I declare. “And I bet they have an Elsa top too!”

“What are you waiting for?” she gasps, tugging my hand. “Ineedall the shirts!”

Grinning down at her, I make sure the car is locked and we walk toward the mall. I can and will push through any anxiety that tries to rise up just to see my girl’s radiant smile.

CHAPTER

ONE

INDIANA

“Time for you to go,”I say, slapping the club girl’s ass to get her moving. We don’t have traditional clubwhores like most of the clubs do, we have hangarounds. We chose back in the day after voting on it that we didn’t want a house full of women who’ll chase us for our patches and get attached to the point where they become catty. There’s nothing worse than women being bitchy then thinking they can still charm a man into making her his old lady.

There’s a party nearly every night of the week where we open our doors for the women of the town to come and hang out. Friday and Saturday nights are when things are a bit wild and out of control. My brothers party harder than any frat boys and it shows the next day when nobody has the mental capacity to function until after noontime.

“It’s too early,” the bitch says, covering her face with my spare pillow.

“Don’t start your bitching,” I say through gritted teeth. “You already stayed overnight, and that was pushing it. Get the fuck dressed and out of my room before I grab you by the roots of your hair and toss you out.”

“You’re an asshole,” she humphs. Considering the number of orgasms I gave her the night before, she should shut her mouth and move the fuck on.

“Never said I wasn’t,” I contend. “Keep up your bullshit and I’ll have you banned.” Sliding out from beneath my sheets, my ass and dick on display, I saunter over to my dresser and pull out my standard attire. Jeans, socks, and boxers before heading into my closet and grabbing one of my black Henley shirts. “You better be gone by the time I get out of the shower.” I don’t wait to hear if she has anything to say, nothing that could come out of her mouth would be of any significance to me, and go into my attached bathroom, lock the door in case she has any bright ideas about joining me, and start heating up my shower.

“I’m getting too old for this,” I mumble to myself as I walk underneath the showerhead and let the water sluice over me. My shoulders hunch in on themselves as I hang my head, pouring over my life and contemplating why I damage my liver to the point where I begin to wonder if I’ll need a transplant in a few years when I indulge Renegade after he challenges me to a drinking contest. I know that fucker can drink me under the table, but I’ve never been one to back down so I always find myself accepting it.

Not wanting to prolong my day by hiding out in my bathroom, I quickly take care of business by washing my body and hair. Once those tasks are taken care of, I reach up and grab my toothbrush and squirt a dollop of paste onto it and brush my teeth. My brothers tease me about the fact that I keep those supplies in myshower instead of using the sink, but it’s easier to do everything at once.

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