Counting Paths

Chapter 3.

A few days later...
"What is you talking 'bout? Let's go!" Joe shouts, jumping off the couch. There are about a dozen of the guys here. We're all in the den, four of us playing a game on the bigger flat screen tv, and the rest are standing around with a beer in our hands.

I'm leaning against the back of the couch, actually enjoying the game when Kevin moves beside me. His large form is rigid and he has his hands folded together in front of him; his business pose, and I groan, bring my beer to my lips. "We have everything sorted," I say before taking a sip.

"I'm only asking for permission."

I turn my body to face his. "Permission for what?"

"I asked Lip to keep me updated and he said the girl was arrested."

Lip is the guy who keeps an eye on the feds, just in case any of my guys get arrested and decide to become a ran. He was given the name Lip for all the times he busted his lip open. He eventually had to get surgery to fix all the times they sowed up his lips.

"What girl?" Mick finishes rolling his blunt on the couch, and I smack the back of his head when he pulls out a lighter. "How many times do I have to tell y'all, idiots? Take that shit outside," I tell him. I actually don't mind smoking inside, but too many of us smoke and it's always more than one blunt. I don't want that smell permanently stuck in my house.

"Sorry, boss," Mick mutters. He gets up and leaves.

"The girl!" Kevin says with more urgency to catch my attention.

"What girl?"

"The girl we took from Ryan."

"Oh!" I remember who he's talking about. "What was...Star...it was Star something-Sterling. Her name was Sterling. What about her again?"

"She was arrested and I wanted to know if I have permission to bail her out."

"Let her parents deal with her."

"She's been there for almost twenty-four hours."

"What is your deal with this damn kid?" I growl, growing more irritated by the second.

"Exactly that, she's a kid. I think she's in trouble. She was with Ryan only a few days ago now she was arrested for stealing food and her parents ain't looking for her."

I sigh and scratch my forehead. "Okay, I'll deal with it." I hand him my beer. "And you have to leave this alone. She's not your kid-for fuck's sake you only saw for a slipt second and she was knocked out."

"And that means we should just abandon her?"

"She's not our problem."

# # #

Being in a police station is the last place I thought I'd ever be, especially for a kid who purposely throws herself into trouble because she doesn't care about shit. It's always the ones who have nothing to lose that are the scariest.

I get questionable looks from damn near every cop I pass, following this guy to the holding cells. "Are you even allowed to hold kids so young?" I ask the guy but I already know the answer. I was one of those kids, but I thought they would've changed some rules around here.

"There's no one we can hand her over to. Good thing you showed up, actually."

"Yeah, I would've come sooner or called but rushing sixteen hours on the road didn't give me many opposites to make phone calls." I stay with the lie I gave them at the front desk.

"Um, do you happen to know about her bruise? The kid will not talk to us."

Bruise? As in singular? "Yeah, she got in a couple of fights at school before the year ended. Her skin is sensitive so the bruise must still look fresh." Lie. Lie. Lie. I don't know shit about this girl. But the guy seems to be believing it.