The Rampage MC #3: Atlas and Joy

Chapter 4 (Joy): Leave

"Wish I didn't know now what I didn't know then." ~Against the Wind, Bob Seger

For the fifth time in ten minutes, Kit's phone rang four times before I was kicked to his voicemail.

For the fifth time in ten minutes, I left a message. Then I texted him. Twice. My ratio was two texts for every voicemail.

Come on, Kit, Answer. I really need a ride home.

I'd known he would be busy with the always-mysterious club business all day -- he'd had to beg off helping me move my little brother into his new apartment because something had come up with the club -- but now club business was apparently extending into the night. 

Kit had promised if we could get the little stuff moved in during the day, he'd help at night with the big ticket items like my brother's couch and bed and so on. I'd been counting on Kit's muscles to help with the heavy lifting, but when he hadn't shown up at the agreed-upon time and hadn't answered my calls or texts, my brother and I had no choice but to move everything else ourselves. Since we'd been expecting Kit, my brother had told his friends they weren't needed, and they were all now busy and couldn't help.

"Just like old times," I said to Kilian as we struggled to get his couch onto the  MC truck Beard said I could use for the move. 

"You know it," he said with a grin. "Just you and me handling shit. Together."

We got into the truck and drove the ten minutes to his new apartment. "You go up the stairs first with the couch," he said.

We hurried as best we could because he had to be at work in an hour. He was a bartender and was paying his way through school, with me helping when I had a little extra. Kilian's new apartment was tiny, much smaller than his old one, but much cheaper.

Our parents had been pretty useless growing up, and as a result, I'd been mothering my brother since he was born. Despite our six-year age difference, we were close. I'd taken babysitting jobs to earn money for food -- in our neighborhood, having a responsible ten-year-old watching your children was better than leaving them alone. I'd taken my little brother with me to get him out of the house, and that allowed me to keep watch over him. I learned to cook like a goddess with the little I had, and seeing the appreciation on Kilian's face made it worth it. When I got a little older and started making meals for the people I babysat for, they'd complimented me and began paying me a little extra to have dinner waiting for them when they got home.

My brother grinned at me as we returned to the truck for the last piece of furniture. "Cutting it close!" he sang out. "I've got half an hour to get to work."

Maybe we were hurrying to get the heavy coffee table in place, but I tripped and rolled my ankle and immediately went down to the ground. My eyes filled from the pain of it and I held my ankle in my hands. 

"Oh, shit, Joy. OK, let me change," my brother said, planning. "I can drop you at the hospital but then I have to get to work. I'm the only bartender on tonight."

"No problem," I gasped, understanding. Losing his job would be disastrous.

In no time, I was at the ER, a nurse took over from my brother, and he took off with an apologetic kiss to my head as soon as I was in a wheelchair.

A mild tear to my Achilles tendon, a boot, an admonition to stay off of it as much as possible for the next few weeks and I groaned inwardly. When I'd explained my job to them, the nurse had told me about knee scooters. "Get one at a medical supply store tomorrow. It's easier than crutches and will be better for your job."

The sixth time I'd called Kit, a woman had answered. "Is Kit there?" I asked.

"Well, No One, he's busy dancing with my sister right now and probably doesn't want to be bothered by No One right now since he just did body shots off her tits and is trying to get lucky," she said, and I knew that bitchy tone. This was Trixie, and I knew her little sister, Brandie, was the one she was referring to. "But you sound really familiar. Want me to have him call you?"