Page 36 of Stripping Keys
Not with the kids that are coming into my brothers’ lives. Storm and Blow have the triplets. Chelsea and Lucky just had Sterling. Now, Meadow and Nines were expecting, along with Marley and Griz. The club was filling up with the next generation.
The image of Marla carrying my kid pops into my head once again. I knew she wasn’t pregnant, but the thought of it, fuck . . . I don’t know.
With the way my childhood was, I don’t know if I could do it. I want her. I want to be able to give her the world, but could I give her a kid? I know I would never do anything to a child of mine. I knew that deep down. Regardless, it doesn’t change the fear that it could end up happening.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. Sighing, I pull it out to find a text from Blow. Opening it to see what he needs.
Blow: Where the fuck are you?
I don’t want to tell him, but if I don’t, he’ll question me even more.
Me: Out. Had to think about shit.
I couldn’t tell him where I was exactly. Not without him asking a hell of a lot of questions.
A moment later, my phone rings. Sighing, I answer it. “Yeah?”
“Where the fuck are you, Keys?” Blow demands.
“Had to go for a ride to clear my head,” I answer.
“Where?”
“Why does it matter where?”
“Because shit’s gone down and you’re out there with your ass swinging and no brother to have your back.”
Straightening, I glance around my surroundings, seeing nothing but the dust caking the room. “What do you mean shit’s gone down?”
“They made a move, Keys. Now, where the fuck are you?”
Gritting my teeth, I squeezed my eyes shut and gave him his answer. “I’m at the place I grew up.”
Blow is silent for a moment before he responds. “Right, we’ll come to you.” He hangs up before he can get the address. It wouldn’t be hard for him to do. He knows the program I have to track our locations. He could’ve used it to begin with. Instead, he calls me to ask me.
Now, he’s on his way here. How the fuck do I explain this shit to him? To any of them? They’ll have questions, I’m sure of it. I don’t talk about my past. I never have.
I’ll have to come up with some bullshit to explain away this place.
Moving through the room, though, I stop in front of one of the dressers and open the top drawer. Inside it, all the toys were still there. Id hated them. Hated when they were used on me. When I had to use them on one of the clients.
Fuck.
Slamming the drawer closed, I grip the back of the dresser and slam it forward. I didn’t have to look in the rest of the drawers to know what they held. It would be everything that could and would have been used on me. Pills. Oils. Condoms. Straps. You name it. It was in this room.
Tearing the room apart, I shout and rage, letting it consume me. Letting it out. All the pain I felt at the hands of those in this very room, I release.
Releasing a ragged breath, my chest heavy, hands stinging, knuckles red and bleeding. Looking around the room, I take in the damage I caused. No longer did it look like a memory frozen in time. It was destroyed.
I step out of the room and start down the hall to head back downstairs. The door to my old room catches my eye once again, and instead of heading downstairs, I go back to my childhood room. I move to the dresser under the barred window. Squatting down, I reach beneath the dresser and grab the items I always hidden beneath.
Sitting down on the musty carpet, I don’t let the smell bother me as I look at the notebook. Age had changed it. I’d forgotten about it until now. I hadn’t thought about it and its contents in so long.
Opening to the middle, I pull out the picture. It was of a man I knew. I hadn’t thought about it then. Hadn’t thought about it ever, to be honest. But I knew the man in the picture. He’d never really been in my life. Not until . . . I never even really thought about it before.
Why?
Did he know?
