Page 134 of Jackass

“I need to go talk to Derek,” I replied, and then walked out the door of the clubhouse to my bike.

Blade and Gunner followed without a word. We fired up our bikes and rolled through the gates.

The motel was quiet as usual. Derek must have heard the bikes, because as soon as we pulled up, the door to his room opened.

“To what do I owe the agony of this visit?” Derek asked.

“We need to talk,” I said, walking up to the door, shoulder checking him as I walked past and sat on the bed.

“I didn’t invite you in,” he grumbled.

“We didn’t ask for an invitation.”

Derek turned toward Gunner’s voice. I watched as his head tilted up and he visibly swallowed. Derek stepped out of the doorway, allowing Gunner to walk through it, followed by Blade.

“So, what do we need to talk about?” Derek asked.

I looked at Derek. We looked so much alike. It was no wonder Sammy chose me. I wondered what my parents looked like. I would need to ask Nav to find some pictures. At the very least, my father’s mug shot would be on record.

I looked at Gunner, and then Blade.

“Christ, I don’t even know where to start,” I said, sliding my hand down my face.

“Look, let me save you the trouble,” Derek said, walking over to the table and grabbing the stack of papers. He held them out to me.

“I signed the papers. All of them. The divorce papers and the affidavit saying there is no way I could be Charlotte’s father.”

“Charlie,” I corrected, looking through the pages.

“What?”

“We call her Charlie. Her name is Charlotte Jacqueline. Sammy named her Jacqueline after me. She didn’t know my name was Charles,” I informed, staring at his signature.

I looked up, and Derek stood there quietly.

“Did you know Marsha had your baby?” I asked.

He looked down at his feet. “She told me. I had told her I didn’t want kids, so I left. I made an appointment for a vasectomy and made sure it would never happen again,” he said, shrugging his shoulder.

I glared at the man I’d just learned was my brother. He lied to Sammy about their relationship. It was all a farce. But I wasn’t here for that.

“Did you know what she did?” I asked.

“Someone showed up at work a few years later and told me what Marsha did, and said the girl was going into the system unless I claimed her. I signed over my rights and let her get adopted by a family who would raise her right.”

I snorted at that.

“And you never met her? Never checked up on her?” I asked in disbelief.

“No.”

That was it.

No explanation, just one word.

“You’re a bastard, you know that?”

“Children learn what they live,” he stated, as if that excused it.