Page 21 of Wolf

“How could you afford all of that, anyway?” Julia sits on the couch nearby, watching me work on the crooked side table in her living room, adjusting the legs and testing for stability. Artie crouches right beside me on his hands and knees, observing me instead of watching the cartoons on the TV. He has a very important job, holding the Allen wrench for me when I’m not using it.

She’s referring to the groceries I brought when I showed up out of the blue earlier today, the day after that scumbag paid her a visit. She wouldn’t tell me all that he did, or said, and maybe that’s for the best because I might have had to go hunt him down right away. That didn’t happen, but it solidified my resolve to spend more time here. I said I would help her and fuck, I’m going to.

“You think I can’t afford groceries?” I retort.

“For yourself, you can. For us, though? And how did you get that stuff here on your bike? I didn’t see a basket or anything.”

“Carefully, that’s how I got it here.”

“I hope that doesn’t mean you did anything dangerous.”

“Doin’ a grocery run is hardly livin’ on the edge, baby.”

She pinches the bridge of her nose, but she’s smiling.

“I hope I got some good stuff, at least,” I say. “I don’t know what kids like. I just got stuff I always wanted when I was his age.”

“I get the cookies and cakes.” She spells out the key words with a glance at Artie. “But when you were a kid, you wanted baby carrots and apples?”

I swallow, suddenly uncomfortable. I set the table upright and it’s steady, no wobble. “Thanks for the help, bud.” I give Artie’s hair a ruffle and he giggles and wriggles around before pulling away. “Take a break from workin’ and go watch cartoons for a bit. I’ll let you know when I need my helper again.”

“Okay!” Artie jumps up and goes to sit in front of the TV. He immediately goes still, like he’s in a trance. I’ve never really cared for the idiot box. I know I’m in the minority on that. Even in prison, all these grown men would flock to the TV in the recreation area and goggle at it.

It’s cute though, when it’s a kid and not some tattooed creep. All of his focus is on the screen, his eyes wide, mind open, absorbing everything given to him.

I move to sit beside Julia on the couch, taking any and every opportunity to get nearer to her. She has one leg drawn up on the cushion like a barrier, which she lowers when I sit down. She’s showing me yet again, whether she realizes it or not, that the door between us is open.

“I guess I never really did ever tell you much about what life was like for Baby Wolf.” I keep my voice low, to avoid catching Artie’s attention if the trance he’s in starts to fade.

“I believe I asked once and was told to mind my own business.”

“I don’t remember that.”

Julia rolls her eyes at me. “What do men remember?”

More than you know, I think. If I had the time and the breath, I’d tell her everything I do remember. Her favorite food back then, what high school was like for her, how she always wanted a cat despite being the most allergic person alive. I’d tell her every single detail of when I saw her at the cemetery, how I couldn’t look away. And I’d describe for her every beautiful, agonizing second of sensation from when she was jerking me off the other night.

I remember a lot. But not enough. No matter how much of her I’d had before, and would have of her now, it’d never be enough.

“I got dropped off at the fire station when I was a week old. My momma tried it out, decided she didn’t like it, and handed me off to be someone else’s problem.”

Julia looks from me to Artie with a fierce frown, one that I want to kiss until it turns into a smile. I figure she’s imagining herself doing the same thing and not liking it. But clearly all women aren’t meant to be mothers.

“I went into the foster system,” I tell her. “Lots of good can come from that system. Lots of bad, too. I mostly saw the bad. Foster parents would play favorites, and I was never a favorite. I never got anything good to eat unless I stole it. I guess I was trouble from the start.”

“The people who were supposed to take care of you caused you to do that,” Julia argues. Fire snaps in her eyes, a ferocity for the injustices I faced as a kid.

“Little bit of both, maybe.” I shrug. “Bad seed and bad fosters. Eventually, I figured I’d had enough. I’d made enough money workin’ odd jobs instead of going to school, so I got myself a junker of a bike, hopped on one night, and rode. I was down in the Miami-Fort Lauderdale area so I headed north.”

She hangs on my every word like I’m telling a scary story from across a campfire. It probably is a scary story, to her. I know it was a frightening time to be me, just a boy all on his own for the first time.

“I didn’t handle my money right. I had trouble with food and gas.” I shift in my seat and scratch at my beard. “I turned into one of those people sittin’ outside at gas stations askin’ for a buck or two. Got by on the kindness of strangers. Wasn’t much kindness, but there was enough for me to get all the way to Helena. I guess they saw me comin’ because Steel was waitin’ by the town sign for me to ride up on my sorry-ass little bike.”

Julia puts a finger to her lips and points at Artie. It takes me a moment to realize I swore. The kid’s not paying any attention, at least.

“I was half-starved by that point. Not makin’ any sense. The club surrounded me and guided me to the clubhouse. Spent the next couple days eatin’ and sleepin’.” I chuckle. “When I was awake for longer than a few minutes, Steel came to talk to me. Offered me help. Told him I was a lone wolf and didn’t need no help.”

A smile plays over Julia’s plump, kissable lips. “I’m guessing that’s how you got your name.”