Chapter 20 – Oske
Chapter Twenty
Oske
Iam going to kill myself if I hear the censored version of Kesha’s Timber one more time.
While I find rapping white children very adorable and enjoy the way they refuse to keep the rhythm of the song…
For seven hours? Brinley totally has a handle on keeping Isaac’s wild kids distracted from the fact that we soft-kidnapped them, but at what cost?
She won’t let me vape around them and the absence of nicotine grates on my nerves like there’s a cat digging its nails into the front of my brain.
“We’re almost there!” Brinley says with all the enthusiasm of a camp counselor. “What song do you guys want next?”
The kids that can talk scream together, “TIMBER!”
The smallest one is immune to their screeching.
I get scared that she doesn’t wake up enough, but Brinley seems to have everything under control and she’s better than any of the Barbarians who would have fallen fast asleep instead of helping me out with Tylee’s hungry-looking kids.
Selma isn’t a fit parent, frankly. But then again, neither is Tylee.
I don’t know how she let things get to her the way they did.
I’ve been telling her for years that she might be better off stopping production on the whole Sinclair baby thing and looking after herself but…
Some people just do whatever the hell they want.
Hey, I’ve been that person sometimes. The kids are off-key.
They get through another round of Timber when Max waits for the song to settle into silence and asks, “Are we really going to see daddy or are you a wicked human trafficker going to behead us and feed us to the skin walker.”
Kids can be dark. I forgot that. But what kind of five year old knows about human traffickers and wendigos and creepy stuff like that.
“We’re going to see Isaac, I promise.”
“Daddy says you tell lies because a lot of Indians tell lies and mommy says that’s racist.”
“Your mom is right,” Brinley says. “That is racist. Everybody tells lies sometimes, but we’re telling the truth.”
“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 off the 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 watch cartoons 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 become my problem.
“Great. We have a problem.”
“We do?” 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.”
“There’s no one out here, we have a nice big car… Do you know if Tylee has back up?”
“Yes. Ex-immigration. A bunch of guys with contacts in the government formed a new gang fucking shit up for us. Tylee has lost her fucking mind, Oske. I swear.”
“I know. But there’s nothing we can do about it, Wyatt. She has a mind of her own.”
“She has three children. Obligations. A responsibility to this family that she has never fulfilled.”
I can feel his emotions rising. Like most men, his temper is quick and he takes offense pretty easily.
I’m not justifying any of Tylee’s actions.
But his sister has revealed herself in little ways over the years – the situation with Damara being the biggest where she paid Zebulon Blackwood money in efforts to scheme money out of the Sinclairs.
Dipping her toe into the dark side is unfortunate, but not entirely surprising.
You run that risk when you ride that you fall off and land somewhere terrifying.
Look at where Vickie Shaw came from. Or Zayna Blackwood.
Even Joslin Sinclair came from a dark place.
All hope might not be lost for Tylee, but for now… We just have to stay safe.
“Don’t send anyone. That might attract attention if there are people watching. We’ll bring the kids to Ethan and Amanda’s. Are you going to be there?”
“In two days,” Wyatt says. “We’re tracking the ex-DHS rogues, and before the next club meeting… I want heads.”
There’s a slight chill down my spine. A biker gang war. Just what we need. My mind immediately jumps to my brothers who are stupid enough to get dragged into the action and definitely stupid enough to die. I don’t like the idea of war.
“I hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“It’s too late, Oske,” Wyatt says. “The good thing is, you and your folks will be safe in Oklahoma – as long as you stay there.”
I look over at Brinley. And what happens to her after all this?
“I’ll let you know when I’m at Ethan’s.”
“Stay safe.”
He’s like the older brother I never had, as strange as our relationship might seem from the outside.
A better man than his father. A better man than most bikers.
If there were going to be a war, I can’t think of a better side to be on than theirs…
But truthfully, I would rather us have no war at all.
Once I get off the phone with Wyatt, I take initiative to distract the kids with my idea of a good time – Aaliyah.
I used to love her music growing up and I definitely had a crush on her.
They like the beat, and stumble through the words of Try Again the way kids do when they’re trying to learn a song.
It’s cute… and we jam to R&B all the way to Ethan’s house.