“So you’re not a crazy blue-haired liberal?” Max asks.
“Where did you get that from?” I ask, because I hate that they’re attacking Brinley for her hair color when she gets enough shit from the bikers.
“Jake Paul.”
I genuinely have no idea who that is, but I’m guessing it’s a character on one of those weird kiddie shows like Barney or that show with the police officer chihuahua. I didn’t know kids' shows were already talking about politics, though.
“She’s not crazy. Women aren’t crazy. People with blue hair aren’t crazy. Liberals aren’t crazy either.”
“Whatever.”
The kids go back to singing. Brinley offers me a weak half-smile. I’m not good with kids and I’m not sure that when they’re gone that Brinley will stay with me. We have to stop in Ohio to sleep for the night, but don’t want to attract any unwanted attention with the kids, so we have to stay at a motel forty minutes offthe highway.
Brinley helps with the changing and necessary feeding, but I can tell that the kids are scared and want to see their dad soon. Despite their exhaustion and grouchiness, food makes them happy and I let them watch cartoons until they fall asleep so this feels more like a sleepover than it is. The hotel room only has two beds and we’re able to get a little crib for Aimee.
What the hell was Tylee thinking leaving Aimee alone? Brinley and I share a bed. Nothing happens between us, not even cuddling. Not because she doesn’t try. I’m the restless one all night. I can’t help it. It’s not just the kids and getting them back to Isaac safely, but the way that Brinley stumbled into my life.
Could I let her go again? Yes, in the sense that I can always let people go. But I don’t want to – I really don’t. She’s the one who has a little bit of Barbarian in her. They don’t see it because she’s a girl who likes girls, but the edgy eyeliner, the blue hair, and definitely all the leather as well as her unwillingness to settle down…
I love The Fire Spot. I need to be close to the rez now more than ever with Nokose and Chitto working for Wyatt and occasionally needing my help. Brinley will always want to get on that damned bike. Eventually, I fall asleep, but I don’t stay asleep for long. From the years I spent in captivity, my sleep habits have never been the same.
It comes in handy when I have to stay late cleaning the bar or getting some overnight job done for Wyatt. Brinley is fast asleep when I wake up. I wash my face and check on the baby, who miraculously didn’t cry throughout the night. Aimee can’t wipe the discomfort off her face when I hold her, and she doesn’t relax until I prepare some of the formula the way Brinley showed me.
The other kids wake up before Brinley and I let them have orange juice that I grab from downstairs while they watchcartoons on mute until she wakes up. It’s pretty early, so I figure we can let them relax a bit before we haul them the rest of the way to Boston. After three episodes of some Cartoon Network show with three hipster bears, and then a switch to something I recognize – Spongebob Squarepants re-runs on Nickelodeon – Brinley awakens with a loud, dramatic yawn.
“Are we there yet?”
The kids go crazy once she’s awake. She’s the fun one. Plus, I said that we had to wait for her to get up so we could get showered and get some breakfast. Brinley grabs the suitcase of items that seemed like the kids we took from Selma’s house and sets out clothing for all the kids. I help them all take baths together which is very chaotic, gets the entire bathroom wet and makes me very grateful that I don’t have any children of my own.
They have a great time, though, and I’m starting to smile a little more around the little gremlins. Aimee reminds me of a quieter version of Tylee, and I swear her hair color is turning just a little strawberry. Brinley helps me get the kids dressed once they’re clean and we abandon our motel room for the first McDonald’s we can find. We get drive thru meals because I don’t want to waste more valuable travel time and the kids are just as happy to make a mess of the car.
By the time we get to Boston, we’ve been on the road three days together. I follow Wyatt’s instructions not to call anyone and lay low until we cross from New York onto the Mass Turnpike and we’re two hours outside of the city. When I call him, Wyatt sounds at peace for once, making me oddly suspicious.
“You sound calm.”
“Why wouldn’t I be calm?” Edge returns to his voice. That man would be totally insufferable if he didn’t have Anna Shaw to keep him in line.
“You’re not gambling or anything…”
“No, Oske. I told you to call when you got to Massachusetts. I haven’t heard from you in over sixty-seven hours… I’m assuming the best for once.”
“I have the kids. We’re two hours outside of Boston.” I hope that’s going to reassure him, but it doesn’t work. Isaac’s voice still comes back tense, which means there’s still some problem which hopefully doesn’t becomemyproblem.
“Great. We have a problem.”
“Wedo?” I try to emphasize the “we”.
“Tylee might have escaped.”
I can’t believe it doesn’t feel like the right response because I can definitely believe that one of the Rebel Barbarians screwed up a job. They don’t screw up all the time, but they make enough mistakes that I know it’s a possibility. I keep self-defense in mind – always.
Letting Tylee escape is beyond stupid. The kind of revelation that I hope ends up being a joke, even if I know that’s pretty unlikely.
“Are you serious?” I know he’s serious. But I don’t want to believe that the Barbarians screwed up their one job. By now, Selma might have called Tylee. She might have figured out that we took the kids and retraced our route by now. Every hour we slept, watched cartoons or showered the kids, we inadvertently put them at risk…
My hands grip around the steering wheel.
“You’re two hours out. Nobody knows where you are. If you want, I’ll send someone to meet you halfway.”