Page 38 of Grace's Redemption
I sat on the bed until my brain stopped swirling. I held my stomach, as if protecting my child from all of the shit in the world. Protecting him from the mess.
Mess.
I was on my own. It was time for plan B.
No way in hell would I raise a baby in the gang environment.
My father used to say. If you don’t like your current circumstance, change it.
I would never get rid of my baby, but I had to make them believe I had, before it was too late.
* * *
Mattie was laidto rest in true biker style. All the pomp and circumstance of a Presidential funeral with clubs from all over the east coast coming by to pay their respects.
Sadly, like when Mase left, things went back to normal pretty quickly.
To put my plan in motion, I had to disappear for a few days.
No one questioned it. We were all in mourning, hurting for Mattie.
The day after the funeral, I drove to a clinic in New York City. It was just across the bay, but a completely different world. I went in and filled out all the paperwork. I had to make it look like I went through with it in case Papa Scott had me followed. I even paid for it with his credit card.
When they were ready to take me back, I told the nurse I had changed my mind.
I checked into a hotel. I had a fake id. It said I was twenty-five. I paid for the hotel with the credit card.
Two days later, I turned my phone back on and watched the missed calls and text messages from Papa Scott, Mase, and Greta. I didn’t answer when they continued to call.
I sat in the hotel room for two days and didn’t step foot outside.
On the third day, I climbed back in the truck and drove back to Jersey City. I drove home and went up to my room.
Greta knocked on my door a minute later.
“Where have you been?” she asked.
“I just needed to get out of town.” I said. “Needed some time to myself.”
“How you feeling?” She reached for my stomach. I stepped away.
“I’m fine.”
“Papa wants to see you.” She lowered her head. “He wants you at the clubhouse now.”
“I’m really tired.” I crawled into bed and held my stomach.”
“I’ll tell him you’re resting.”
“Thank you.”
Greta left without another word.
I sat up and took out my phone.
I sent Mase a text message.
Grace: I need to tell you something. I hope you will understand.
