There was always a lot of yelling, a lot of fighting and a lot of drinking. These sorts of meets usually lasted a couple of days the adults stayed inside and the kids outside. When your father and his cohorts were involved in illegal dealings and needed to meet privately, criminal gatherings at pumpkin farms were more frequent than one would think. On the back of Frankie’s bike I left Manhattan, Northern Illinois destined, our first stop: A pumpkin farm. When it came to Frankie, my father was a total pushover. When he found out I wouldn’t be going he threw a violent fit until my father caved. Two weeks after my twelfth birthday my father decided it was time for Frankie to tag along on an MC run. ![]() He slept soundly for the first time since he'd moved in with us and he’s been in my bed ever since. ![]() One night, when my father was out on a run, Frankie snuck into my room and slipped in bed with me.
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