Heart-On: Turf Wars #2 Bella Jewel (books for 10th graders .txt) 📖

Seems like a dangerous idea for a career path, but who am I to judge. She can do whatever she needs to do, I haven’t lived her life. I’m not here to decide what road she travels. Still, it does seem like she’s picking the rougher part. You can’t help but wonder what has happened in her life for her to decide this is the best option.

Poppy grins. “That’s just a step in the door. You make this shit, and you sell it for triple what you make. One good load and I’m set. Then I can go and do whatever I want. Drugs are slow earners. Weapons are much the same. This...this is a game-changer.”

Poppy is scarily intelligent.

She’s done her research. That much is certain.

She holds herself like a true champ.

She seems like she isn’t afraid of anything.

“You done with that shit yet?” Beckett asks, appearing from around the side of the clubhouse.

“Keep your shirt on, big guy. It’s a process,” Poppy murmurs, leaning down and squinting at the liquid. “You don’t get this right, it’s all over.”

“Then get it fuckin’ right,” Beckett growls.

Poppy straightens and looks at him. “You’d want to start using your manners, biker. I could toss you in this liquid, and it would peel your skin off in a matter of hours. Satisfying for me, not so much for you.”

I smother another laugh.

“Keep your trap shut and just do as I’m askin’,” Beckett warns.

Poppy rolls her eyes. “Yes sir, boss sir.”

She salutes and then gets back to work.

“You should be nicer to her,” Eve says to Beckett, a grin on her face. “I think she could quite possibly murder you in your sleep.”

“Nobody would find the body either, I assure you,” Poppy murmurs, squinting at something inside the barrel.

Beckett turns and walks off.

We all laugh.

Well, this is going to be fun.

“WELL,” I SAY, STARING at the woman standing at my front door. “Hello, mother.”

My mother stands, a suitcase in her hand, looking like she’s just rolled in off the street after starving for an entire month and smoking as many drugs as she can possibly get her hands on. Her hair is ratty, her eyes are dull, and she’s pale as all fuck. She looks at me with a pitying expression, as if that’ll make me want to help her anymore.

Because she wants help or she wouldn’t be here.

She’s the type who will show up, just like she has now, when everything else in her life has failed. When she has hit rock bottom and has nowhere else to go, she’ll turn to the one person she treated the worst and hope she can make amends. The problem is, I’m not stupid. I don’t have the kind of heart most people do. I’m not going to open my door and forgive her for all the bad things she has done, no matter how much she promises to change.

Will I help her get clean? Maybe.

But it won’t be here.

“I know you probably don’t want to see me,” she says in a scratchy voice, “but I have nowhere else to go.”

So you came here. Just as predicted.

How wonderful.

I cross my arms. “What happened to Devin? You know, the one you let torment me my entire life. Did he finally give you the flick?”

She glares at me. “Devin kicked me to the curb if you must know. The second he sold the house and got the money, we were done. I know you have no pity for me, Ramona, but I am your mother and I have nowhere to go.”

Oh, she wants pity now.

“Might I remind you that you, not once in your life, have worried about what I want or need. You kept me from my father, you let my step-brother torment me, and now you want me to feel sorry for you and just take you in?”

“I’m your mother.”

“Yes, you are my mother. You’ve told me that a few times now. That doesn’t mean I have to help you. Just because you’re blood doesn’t mean you’re worthy of my time. It takes a hell of a lot more than that to get me to want you anywhere near me.”

“I have nothing,” She throws her hands up. “Nowhere to live, no food, no water and no money. I know I’m pathetic, but you’re the only thing I have left.”

“I bet you’ve got drugs, though,” I say, crossing my arms.

She shakes her head in disgust. “What do you think I am?”

“You want me to help you? Open your bag, show me everything that’s inside. If you’re not on drugs, I’ll consider it.”

She looks nervous. “I’m not opening my bag. Those are my private things.”

I shake my head in disgust. “This is why I don’t bother. You’re a liar, and you’re an addict. Do you want help, mom? Go to rehab, clean yourself up, and I might consider talking to you.”

She scowls with disgust. “So you’ll let your mother go back to the streets?”

“No,” I say, matter of factly. “No, I’ll take you to a nearby rehab center. That’s what I’ll do for you. Anything else is asking too much.”

“I have no home!”

“You did that to yourself,” I say calmly. “You chose this path. You could have gone a thousand other ways and we wouldn’t be standing here right now, but you didn’t. You chose yourself over absolutely everything else including your daughter, and now you’re paying for it.”

Her eyes flash, wild and dangerous. “You stole my husband, you filthy little whore. You’re the reason I have nothing. It’s all your fault.”

“Whoa,” Adan’s voice comes from behind me. “You do not come in here and speak to her like that.”

Her eyes swing to him as he falls in beside me. She scrunches up her nose in disgust, as if she actually has a right to judge him.

“Oh, so you two are a thing, are you?” Mom says, her head bobbling around as she speaks. “Well, how fucking wonderful.