It was August of that summer before Jack found me. Actually I think he’d been away for a while, out West somewhere someone said, though I really didn’t try to keep track of his whereabouts. Especially when I knew he was out of town, and I didn’t have to try and dodge his judgmental eye.
When some guy rode up on the Harley that night, I didn’t make anything of it, since there were always bikes coming and going from Shelley’s place. But when I saw it was Jack striding up to the front porch where I was smoking a joint, I had this little tremor go through me. Strange, it was almost like I was happy to see him, like I wanted to throw my freedom in his face. Let him suffer a little. But then that’s not what happened at all.
“Your mama know what you’re doing?” Jack asked me in his nastiest tone
