Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 45135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Her father, that worthless asshole, was drunk more times than not, and as soon as Allie graduated high school, she had told herself she’d leave. Well, she had, but it had been into the arms of an abusive man that took from her more than she was willing to give.
Now at twenty-three she was tired of the shitty life she’d always thrown herself into and wanted a fresh start.
She hoped she found that here, or at least had her mother’s support and help in getting there.
Grabbing the handle of the front door she pulled it open. The music was the first thing that slammed into her, followed by the scent of cigarette and weed smoke. But Allie was used to this type of scene.
Her father had been the partying type for as long as she could remember. Allie had just been used to locking herself in the basement and cranking her own music up, drowning out the sounds above her.
She waited for her vision to adjust, and then glanced around the clubhouse. It was clearly a party scene, but it was surprisingly clean. Leather couches were on one side, pool and foosball tables on the other.
A full bar was up against the wall across from her, and there was a hallway next to that. Some closed doors were scattered around, and pictures of men on motorcycles and women half-dressed hung from the ceiling along with a half dismembered Harley.
It was quite a scene.
“Hey, honey, I think you’re in the wrong place.”
Allie looked over at the woman who spoke. She was drunk, or at least smelled like a brewery. She also had on a tube top that was pulled down so one of her tits was hanging out.
Her skirt wasn’t much better, not with the damn thing pulled down low and nearly showing off her pussy.
“No, I’m in the right spot. I’m looking for Barbie.” Allie didn’t know if her mother was going by that name or not, especially since she was at the clubhouse. But given the way the woman looked confused, Allie had to assume she either wasn’t here, or she didn’t go by Barbie.
The woman turned and faced the people milling around. “Hey, anyone know a Barbie?”
There was a rush of murmurs, some people shaking their heads. Allie started to get discouraged that maybe her mother had bailed on this location, as well.
But she’d just spoken to her a month ago—and before that it had been going on a year since they’d talked. Her mother wasn’t exactly the winner of Mother of the Year.
And then there she was, coming out of the hallway, her focus on her skirt as she pulled it down. A big guy in leather followed behind, buttoning up his pants and fixing his belt.
Nice.
“Anyone know a Barbie?” the woman hollered out again.
Allie’s mother snapped her head up, and their gazes clashed.
Yeah, Mom, it’s really me.
Her mother walked up to her, stared at Allie for long seconds, and then pulled her in for a hug. She smelled like cigarettes and sex, a scent that had Allie wrinkling her nose.
“Who the hell is Barbie?” the drunk woman said from behind them, and Allie pulled away from her mom to look at the woman. She had her hand braced on the wall and swayed slightly.
“I am,” Allie’s mother said.
The drunken woman blinked. “I thought you were Trixie.”
Allie looked at her mom, a brow lifted. Her mother shrugged and smiled.
“Barbie is my real name.”
The drunken lady nodded, still looked confused, and then turned and left.
“What are you doing here?” Allie’s mother asked.
She didn’t answer right away, didn’t want to admit that she’d allowed herself to get involved with an asshole that verbally abused her and slapped her around.
It was humiliating, because what stupid fucking woman—who knew better, which she did—allowed herself to be treated like that?
Allie’s mom had left because her father had been a prick to her, and she had her own issues. But there was still a part of Allie that was so angry with her mom for leaving her there, for abandoning her even if she sent money and called.
How many times had Allie asked her mother to come get her, to take her away?
Drugs, depression, and being bipolar will do that to a person.
But her mom looked clean and healthy. “You look good,” Allie said.
Her mother smiled. “Thanks, hun. I’ve been sober for a while now, and just got back on my meds. Things are going well.”
Yet you still only called me once a year unless I tracked you down.
Don’t go down that path.
You’re here now, need her help, and she looks well.
“As glad as I am to see you, I am surprised you’re here. Everything good?”
Allie wasn’t going to beat around the bush. She’d traveled too far and left what little she had in order to start new.