Data…

“Was wondering when you was gonna get around to callin’ in,” Dragon’s gravelly smoker’s voice came heavy over the airwaves.

“Yeah, well, we needed to sleep.”

“Hm.” I pictured him taking a long, slow, drag off of one of his cancer sticks. His slow sigh all but confirmed it and he sucked in a breath and said, “Boys and I been talkin’ it over. It ain’t our usual hospitality but we can’t be havin’ her anywhere near the clubhouse. Not with all the women and children. If this had been a couple a years ago it wouldn’t be no thing, but now?”

“No, I feel you D. I just… shit. I just don’t know where to go.”

“Well that’s easy, you go nowhere.” I paused, brow furrowing and then I got it. The lightbulb went off and I nodded slowly.

“Right, off to points unknown,” I said. It was a careful ploy, one that I knew Dragon would know. Going nowhere and responding with the word point just confirmed that we were on the same page. He wanted me to head straight for Point Nowhere. The club’s back-up and last-resort safe house and body dump.

“Safe travels, brother,” he ground into the phone and I pictured him stubbing out his cigarette at his favorite table in the club’s common room.

“Thanks, P.”

“Keep the dirty side down.”

“You know it.”

The line went dead, my phone giving the disconnect tone in my ear. I lowered it and wondered what the boys were going to put together out at Point Nowhere for us. The place wasn’t exactly made for habitation for any kind of extended period of time.

I let out a pent-up breath and racked my neck back and forth. I was going to need to go back in there with Mali and throw on some real clothes. She needed more than what she had and there was a Ross down the road. I was planning on picking her up a few things but it would be better if I went myself. She needed to stay out of sight.

I went back in and she straightened up, staring at me plaintively from where she sat on the foot of the bed.

“What’d your buddies say?” she asked, but her voice was neutral, tone careful. I couldn’t tell if she was trying to hide how she was feeling or what. Her eyes weren’t exactly giving anything away, either.

“They’re on it, setting up a place for us to crash-land,” I answered.

“When do we leave?”

“Tomorrow. I need to go out and get you some things. You’re going to need more than what you’ve got on.”

“I hate shopping,” she said.

“Yeah, well, you’re off the hook on that score. Write down your sizes for me.”

“You’re going shopping for me?”

I hung my head and let out a harsh breath, “The less you’re seen the better off we are until a time we can figure a few things out. Just write down your sizes, some of the shit you like to wear, and I’ll do my best.”

Her shoulders dropped and she put on a wry grin, “I was always a pain in your ass, why should now be any different?” she asked and I put my hands on my hips and shook my head.

“You were a lot of things, Amalia… a pain in my ass isn’t even close to the top of my list.”

Her self-deprecating smile dissolved into an expression of surprise and she dragged her messenger bag from the floor to the bed. She rifled through it, pulled out the newest looking sketchbook and opened it to the back.

“Need something to write with?” I asked gently and she shook her head and pulled out a roll of light purple paisley-printed material secured with darker purple ribbons. She untied it and rolled it out just enough to slip a drawing pencil out from the pocket sewn into it.

“It is so weird you buying me bras and underwear,” she muttered and started writing.

“Better than tampons, but I’ll buy you those too if you need ‘em.”

She snorted a laugh and it made me smile. She scratched out her sizes and measurements haphazardly across the thick white page and then started whipping out some quick sketches underneath. I didn’t say anything, patiently waiting her out, and truthfully, actually pretty appreciative of the visual aids she was rendering. I didn’t want to get her shit she wouldn’t like.

She sighed finally, coming out of her little zone that she went into when she drew and carefully tore the page out of the book, holding it out to me.

“Thanks,” I murmured and let my eyes graze the sizes and the little sketches she’d done, calculating how much room I had on the bike to store the extra shit. I had some leeway; I could strap a bag to the fender rack and sissy bar behind Mali. Should be able to get her straight for about a week’s worth of clothes. I nodded and creased the paper into four quadrants and set it by the television.

“Right, I’ll be back in a minute.” I went into the bathroom and put on some real clothes and my riding gear. When I came out, she was still sitting on the end of the bed, feet up, crossed at the ankle, arms loose around her knees; folded up like a lotus blossom. She’d always sat that way when we were kids and it was as alluring now as I’d found it when we were teenagers. I just didn’t know what it was about it that got me, but then again, some of the strangest things about her did.

“What am I supposed to do while you’re gone?” she asked.

I shrugged and pulled the remote off of the dresser the television was on and handed to her. She rolled her eyes at me and made an ‘ugh’ noise; I smiled. I couldn’t blame her, hotel TV pretty much sucked.

“You could draw,” I suggested and she looked down wistfully at her sketch book, now missing a page.

“Don’t think I’m in the frame of mind to pull off anything artistic at the moment.”

“Don’t say I can blame you,” I answered, shoving her measurements into my back pocket.

She hesitated with whatever she was about to say next and I stilled, waiting her out. Finally, she spoke and what came out surprised me. She said, “Don’t take too long, ‘k?”

“Back in a flash,” I said and tried to sound both nonchalant and reassuring at the same time. Mali had never been one to display any sort of weakness or vulnerability and her softer tone along with her hesitation was an unexpected crack in the hard exoskeleton of confidence she typically had on.

We still hadn’t really talked about things. Bits and pieces that I was slowly putting together into a mosaic depicting a timeline, but I didn’t want to push too hard. Not yet, not right now. There would be a time for that later when the buck would stop and she’d have to spill but in the interest of not piling on more frustration of her having to repeat herself ad nauseam, I let myself grow nauseous with dying to know everything in minute detail.

Mali gave me a nod and I returned it, scooping up my helmet and leaving the room, heading out to grab some items for her that would get her out of my underwear, because fuck, while I had self-control, it wasn’t endless and I didn’t want to push my luck by making a wrong move, you know? I didn’t want to be ‘that guy’ and so she needed some extra things. Things that I could provide. I honestly needed to occupy my time during the hurry up and wait. I needed to be doing something so I didn’t explode.