Page 6 of Lies Beneath Secrets
“Probably.” I pull off my bandana and stuff it into my pocket. “I want the beard gone and the hair cut down. The old man gestures for the barber chair and flings a cape over me before he gets to work.
* * *
“I knew there was a person under all that mess.” He chuckles at himself as he spins me around and takes off the cape. I stare at a man I haven’t seen in quite some time and almost regret the close shave.
“What do you think, Gabby?” I ask, turning to my daughter who has been sitting quietly, swinging her feet under the chair. She looks my way and wrinkles her nose. The barber chuckles at her.
“It will grow back,” he says. I pay the man, and we go over to the diner, definitely in need of food now.
“What can I get you two to start with?” a soft voice asks after we’ve been seated in a booth. I look up to see a coffeepot, then raise my gaze even higher, and the breath stalls in my chest for a moment. The woman standing at our table pushes a pair of glasses up her nose and looks down at me with a bright smile.
“C—” I croak, then clear my throat. “Coffee,” I finally get out, then look over at Gabby. “Apple juice?” I ask, and she nods.
“Great. Would you like to hear the specials? Or are you good with just the menu?” I look back up at our waitress, noticing her name tag says Lauren. Then I bring my eyes back up to her face, mainly her cheek. It’s slightly purple, causing my jaw to flex. “Menu is good,” I state, and she smiles, then walks away. I watch the slight sway of her hips and the flicking of the end of her ponytail as she heads toward what I assume to be the kitchen. This diner is in one of them actual diner cars, the authentic-looking ones from back in the day. It’s small, so when she’s back there, I catch the sound of laughter. At least two women are laughing. One of them I assume is her. I keep my gaze trained in the direction she went for far too long until she appears again. That’s when I jerk my head down to my menu.
“Have you decided yet?” Her voice breaks into my fake concentration of the menu.
“Ah, yeah. Do you know what you want, Gabbs?” I look over at my daughter, and she shakes her head no, her little body bouncing up and down with the sway to her feet. “French toast,” I tell her. “For the both of us,” I clarify. “Where’s your bathroom?” Lauren points toward the end of the small diner in the middle of writing on her little pad.
“Take a right, two doors down.” She looks up, smiles, and is off again.
“Come on.” I get up from the booth and lead Gabby to the bathroom. “You good by yourself?” Gabby nods, then goes inside. I stand there and wait for what seems like two damn hours. Just before I’m about ready to open the door and go inside, she comes back out and walks past me, back to the booth. Little Miss Independent, I guess. Not for the first time, I wonder what life was like with her mother. How she was treated. Gabby is so quiet, and sometimes I catch her flinching at sudden movements. I can’t determine if it’s from before or after she witnessed her mom being murdered. Even so, there are things that need to be addressed. Which reminds me, I need to schedule an appointment with the therapist Casandra recommended in this area.
We eat our breakfast in silence and I keep watch on our waitress.Lauren. The more I watch her the more I almost question if this is the same girl King almost killed a few days ago. She isn’t showing any signs of trauma except for the slight bruise on her cheek.
“Is there anything else I can get you?” Lauren comes back over to our table. She looks down at Gabby, who’s now coloring on some paper with crayons she had brought over. “You can take those with you if you want.” She gestures to the small package of crayons. “No one ever uses them. Kids are always on phones nowadays.” She lets out a light laugh and places down our check, then walks away.Again,I stare after her for far too long, then I take my wallet out, placing a fifty-dollar bill onto the thirty-dollar check.
“Okay, kid. I guess we should stop to get you something to color on now that you have crayons.” Gabby’s face lights up, and she packs up her new crayons into the little box they came in, then stuffs them inside her coat pocket. I notice it has a small tear on the sleeve, not for the first time, and make a mental note that I should get her some clothes. It hits me at that moment. I have a little human being to take care of now. All I’ve ever had to do was take care of myself, and I sure as hell don’t do a great job on that front at times. The countless instances that I’ve been shot at, hell, the time Igotshot is more than enough proof of that.
I look down at Gabby again and picture her all alone, living in some damn foster home with the kind of assholes I got placed with. I’ll be damned if I let that happen to her. I said that to Knox the day I drove to get her. She’s the only child I’ll ever have, and I’m going to give her everything I got.
“Let’s stop at the store to get you a few things too,” I say, opening up the door of the diner. She saunters off toward the truck and lets me open the door for her and help her in. In the distance, I catch the sound of a motorcycle rev and speed away. I look in the direction it came from but don’t do it in time to see who it was. There are other people in this town who own bikes, but something deep down leads me to believe that the owner came from our club. I shake off the feeling of being watched and get into the truck.
On the outskirts of town near the freeway is a large supermarket. It’s got everything in it. Clothes, food, household shit. You can even drop off your car for an oil change. A catch-all place that I stay the hell away from, but this is the only place I know of to get Gabby what she needs.
“I know you aren’t a hand holder, Gab, but do your dad a favor and hold it in the parking lot, will ya?” I extend my hand, and she takes it. I’d pick her up and carry her, but I’m still not sure how that will be received. We’re still getting to know each other, and I don’t want to do anything to push her away. This is her first full day with me after all, and I sure as shit don’t know anything about kids.
The place is of course busy as hell when we get inside. I grab a cart and do my best to push it and keep Gabby in my sight, already stressed to beat all hell. We walk further into the store, the hum of people talking and the squeaking of the wheel on my cart filling my ears. I do my best to tune it all out and find where the kids clothes are. “Well, let’s find something that will fit you.” I don’t remember the last time I went shopping for clothes. Most of my stuff comes from the club girls. Whenever they get sick of seeing the same tee shirts, they get me a new one to throw in the rotation, and my old ones disappear. Or if I really need something, I give them a list and some cash. They have it for me the next day. Seems to be a great system. This shit right here is very foreign to me.
I find a rack with some coats on it and point at them. “How about this one?” Gabby wrinkles her nose and shakes her head, so I go to the next one. These are light blue with a fuzzy collar on them. “This?” I ask, pulling one from the rack. Again, she shakes her head, then walks over to a large box with a horse on it. I follow her and look at the price. “Jesus, could get you a real horse for that amount,” I mutter. “Not today, okay, Gabbs. We need to get you a coat. Yours has a rip in it,” I say and try to get her attention away from the horse. She stomps her foot and points at the box. “Not today,” I repeat, and you would think that I kicked the damn horse in the box. One second, my daughter is this cute little girl wanting a large toy pony; the next, she turns into something from that damn Exorcist movie.
“I want this!” The first words I hear come from her mouth, she shouts for the whole store to hear. I stand there completely shocked and honestly happy she spoke, but it’s dashed away in the next second when I reach toward her hand to steer her away from the fucking horse in a damn box that’s about to ruin my day. And hers too apparently.
“I said no, Gabby,” I state as calm as I can, not knowing what to do at all. I glance around to find so many customers looking our way. “Shit,” I hiss and watch as my daughter drops down to the floor in tears. “Come on, Gabbs.” I reach down and try to pick her up, but her little body wiggles and kicks when I do, getting more stares.
“Is everything okay here?” A woman with a shopping cart stops next to us. I glance over at her. She’s got a dog sitting in her shopping cart next to her massive purse.
“Yeah. She’s fine. Just wants to get the horse.” I point at the box, then try to pick Gabby up again. “Come on, kid.” She kicks and wiggles again, but I’ll be damned if we’re going to stay in this place any longer. I keep her in my grip the best I can and haul her over my shoulder, keeping her feet from kicking me in the face. She smacks my back with each step we take toward the front of the store and out to the truck. I do my best to get her in the backseat and strapped into the little booster I was given when I picked her up yesterday.
She has calmed down a little bit by now but still has tears in her eyes and keeps sucking in quick little breaths. “That went well, didn’t it?” I say mainly to myself because I know she won’t answer me. I shut the back door of the truck, then climb into the front, behind the wheel. Before starting the truck, I take a deep breath and look at Gabby in the rearview mirror. Her breathing has calmed down a little bit, and her eyes are drooping shut. “Tuckered her right the fuck out,” I mumble to myself and pull out of the parking lot. By the time I get onto the highway, she’s completely asleep.
CHAPTERFIVE
Con
After the epic pony meltdown, I drive to Knox’s place. He’s got a large house that used to be a warehouse of some kind. On the outside, it seems to be abandoned. Maybe that’s the way he likes it. The front of the building has two large bay doors leading into the shop his brother Kaleb runs. Neither are open today. So, when I park and get Gabby out of her car seat, we go to the small door on the edge of the building. It lets out a creek when I pull it open that must do the trick of waking Gabby because her eyes shoot open wide. “Hey,” I say to her. I have her little body against my chest with her head on my shoulder. Much different than how I carried her out of the store. “We’re at Knox’s house,” I tell her, “Do you want me to put you down?” She shakes her head and rubs her eyes. “Okay.” I close the door behind us and walk up the metal stairs leading to the living quarters. Instead of knocking, I go right in and wind up right in the middle of another meltdown.
“This is absolute bullshit,” Kendra yells.
