Page 11 of Wire
“Oh My God, Wire. Are you okay? Are you safe?” she fires off.
“Carrie girl, I’m okay. I’m at the Devils Reapers compound for a visit. They are a support club in Dyersburg.”
“I’m glad you’re safe, Wire. I’m so fucking angry at Joker.”
“I can tell. You called him Joker.”
“I don’t know what has gotten into him, acting like that toward you. He is not the man I love.”
“Now, Carrie girl, do not let what is going on between the club and me affect your relationship. Please, Carrie.”
Jesus, I don’t want this to ruin her and Joker’s relationship. They love each other so much. Carrie has been through so much shit. Both Beau and her deserve happiness. Joker kept looking for her for so long. It really broke him when he found out what had been happening to her.
“Wire, you still there?” Carrie calls, pulling me out of my head.
“Sorry, Carrie girl. I’m here.”
“When are you coming home?” she asks in a small, slightly scared voice.
“I don’t know,” I honestly say.
“But you’re going to come home at some point? Right?”
How do I answer that? Can I forgive them for how they treated me? Can it really be that simple of go back, hash it out with them and move on? Or just move on without them? Yes, Joker’s behavior was out of character for him, but maybe being Prez now has gone to his head. I honestly don’t have the answer for her.
“I’m sorry, Carrie, but I don’t have an answer for you. I honestly just don’t know,” I say, deciding to be truthful is for the best.
The sniff from down the line breaks my heart.
“I’m sorry.”
After ending the call with Carrie, I stay a few more days with The Reapers. They have been great, and it has been awesome catching up with everyone.
Saying my goodbyes, I head off out onto the open road and just see where the wind and road take me.
CHAPTERFIVE
Tallulah
Shit, I hate going into town. Madison is a small town in central Texas. So small that everyone knows your business, has an opinion on said business, and will happily tell you their opinion, whether it was asked for or not. Why they think they know best is beyond me. They do not know what’s best, not by a long shot. This is why I tend to stay to myself and not get involved.
I live out on the family ranch outside of town with my three brothers. Carter is the oldest, then Tyler, the middle brother, and finally Weston, the baby. I was not such a happy surprise about 10 years after Weston was born. My folks weren’t the greatest. Momma tried, but Daddy had other ideas. He didn’t know what to do with a girl, so I was more boy than a girl.
My brothers have given me the nickname Calamity, after the Doris Day film Calamity Jane. I’m a more country, redneck woman than a Texas beauty. Which is fine by me!
I have long blonde hair and eyes as blue as the ocean. A smattering of freckles across my nose and full lips. My lips are also not the long full thing on me. My breasts are a little more than a handful, and as old Mrs. Kernish says, I have childbearing hips. I have no idea if this is a compliment or an insult, to be fair.
I have helped my brothers run the family ranch since our folks passed away. Momma died when I was young from pneumonia, and Daddy had an accident on the ranch a few years ago. They were never neglectful or abusive, but nor were they loving either. Daddy never told me he was proud of me or that he loved me. Just muttered why couldn’t I be a boy? Well, considering it’s the sperm that dictates the child’s gender, I say he only has himself to blame.
Pulling the old truck into a spot outside the general store, I hop out and head inside to pick up our grocery order. Something shiny catches my eye outside the diner. The only diner in town, told you it was small. Parked outside the diner is a shiny blue motorcycle. I step a little closer to get a better look. I have always loved bikes, but my brothers won’t let me ride as they say I’m too clumsy, and also, none of them want me on the back of theirs. All three of them ride. Trust me when I say my brothers are not being nasty to me.
Carter being the eldest, decided he was the one to take me for my first ride. I put my foot on the peg, and I was way too excited, so I put too much weight down, threw my leg over way too violently, and managed to topple the bike over onto my brother, breaking his leg. After that, they decided there was no way they were taking me again. Can’t really say I blame them. If you looked clumsy up in the dictionary, you would find a picture of me.
Stepping back from the magnificent beast, I head into the store to collect the groceries we ordered.
“Hey, Mr. Heck,” I call out as I enter the store.
Mr. Heck owns the general store, and his daughter helps run it. Mr. Heck must be in his eighty’s now, and Bex Heck, his daughter, is in her forties. Never married, just happy living at home with her dad and running the store. She is what the older women around town call a true spinster.
