Shattered Chances: A Breaking Black Companion Novel (3 page)

5.

Randy

I got the girl, and now the girl was trying to kill me.

My stomach tightened into knots as we entered the fair grounds. The bright lights and the sadistic circus music made me feel like an express train that was going off the rails. The fair was lit up as effectively as the Vegas Strip, and the rides, the same old dilapidated rides that show up year after year, make me want to puke my guts up just thinking about them.

Let’s get a few things straight… If a clown comes near me, I will punch its lights out. I’m not kidding. Bam! I don’t do rollercoasters. I especially don’t do the Flying Trapeze swings, but somehow, Cheyenne got me to come to the happiest place in Oakeley. Kill me now.

I am about to make a total ass out of myself.

“C’mon Randy!” Cheyenne called as she pulled me closer and closer to the place that turned me into a total chicken shit.

We went on the Himalaya first, which wasn’t horrible. I didn’t puke, so that’s a plus. No heights, no clowns and the rock and roll music disguised my screams. Next, we went on the scrambled eggs. Again, not bad. No swinging basket high in the air, tempting death, giving the grim reaper pointers on how to collect my soul. I was beginning to feel like I had the hang of the fair. I got this! But it was all a big set up.

The peanut butter and jelly sandwich that I ate for lunch threatened to hurl all over my beautiful date’s lap.

Get it together, man!

“C’mon Randy! This one’s my favorite!” Cheyenne said with a squeal as she ran towards another ride.

She is going to be the death of me.

I followed her reluctantly, but when I saw where she was leading me, my heart sunk.

No. Not the fucking swings. No no no no no no no no no no! FUCK!

“C’mon Randy! You’re not afraid are you?!

I scoffed, “Me, scared?! Yeah right!”

I’m a chump
, I thought as I watched a little girl with pigtails get off the ride with a giggle.

A fucking giggle.

We waited in line for what seemed like forever. She didn’t seem nervous at all. Maybe she’d be good for me. Calm my crazy ass down. Yeah, right. That’d take a miracle.

The line started to move and I felt like I was walking to the gallows. All I could think was,
Thank God the swings were single seats so Cheyenne doesn’t have to see me cry like a bitch.

We gave our tickets to the gatekeeper, I mean the ticket collector, and we approached the chariot of terror.

The shit I do for people.

I stepped onto the platform as my skin broke out into a cold sweat. I sat down onto the rickety seat and my thoughts were on fire. Cheyenne swung playfully from her swing, rocking back and forth as she waited for the ride to begin.

What the fuck am I thinking?! Let me off… Let me off!

But it was too late. The ride attendant pulled the safety bar down over my lap and gave me a goofy smile.

Jackass
!

The ride started to move.

Fuck
.

The lights went on, illuminating the top and shining down upon us so everyone could see better. Thanks for that. Now everyone can see Randy Ford: Grid Iron tough guy crying like a little girl.

In a blink, the ride flung us into the air and as Cheyenne squealed screams of delight, I screamed bloody murder. I closed my eyes hoping that would help but the swing just went higher, throwing my eyelids open, forcing me to watch! Never, in all my life, did three minutes take so father frigging long to pass! My weight slid to the left side of the seat and it felt like I was going to fall out.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!”

A blood curdling scream erupted into the air. Jesus, Mary and the Baby Jesus! Who brought a baby onto this devil ride?! But then I realized, it wasn’t a baby. It’s me. I’m the baby! I’m never going to live this down. That’s when I see my brother Tim staring up at me from the group, my sister Averi has this amused look on her face and Colt, who is standing a few feet behind them, took a picture with a disposable camera.

FLASH!

“Fart Sniffer!” I screamed at him.

As I screamed in terror, Cheyenne cried out a jubilant, “Woohoo!”

***

“See Randy… I told you it’d be fun! I wonder who was screaming like that?!” Cheyenne said playfully. Playing it off, I grabbed her hand as we made our way to get some food from the food court. After all my suffering I deserved some brisket. As we maneuvered through the crowd, I made a mental note to confiscate Colt’s camera if I saw him again.

6.

Cheyenne

Poor Randy! Pretending he wasn’t scared out of his brain on that ride. I like him. A lot. Scared shitless, but still crazy enough to say eff you to his fears. I like that in a man.

We grabbed some brisket and Coke in the food court, got two bags of cotton candy and started to head to the parking lot. It was getting dark so Randy offered to walk me home. As we were approaching the gate, we got our wrist bands cut off. I never expected what came next. A clown with big white polka dot pants, a rainbow wig and a big red nose approached Randy and tapped him twice on his shoulder. The clown acting like he was boxing and pretended to jab Randy in the shoulder. Randy, in a knee-jerk reaction, sent his fist flying at the clown. Randy’s face was an angry shade of red as his fist connected with the clown’s nose – it honked loudly as Randy’s knuckles scraped against it. The nose popped off and the rainbow wig flew clear off the clown’s head. It was funny, honestly, because the clown was fighting back, taking a swipe at Randy’s left eye.

It was funny until Trent Myers came out of the shadow.

“You…” Randy said, giving Trent a loathsome glare.

“Ford. What the fuck! Beating up clowns now?!”

“Nope. Just checking out the sights.”

Trent reached out and pushed Randy in his chest.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” Randy yelled at Trent giving him a stern warning.

Trent’s black hair fell past his shoulders. He stared at me with hooded eyes. Even with the shadow of his hood, I could tell how ridiculously good looking he was. He also appeared to be a total jerk.

“Who’s your friend?” Trent asked Randy, pointing back at me. He had an intense look about him, dressed in black from head to two. I tugged on Randy’s arm tighter. Something about Trent made me uncomfortable.

“My girl is none of your business,” Randy said with a bite.

His girl
. I’m liking this guy more and more. Crazy, funny and protective.

Trent continued to stare, ignoring Randy’s statement.

“Hey girl, what’s your name?” Trent persisted.

I stood behind Randy, not sure if I should answer him. A moment later, Randy answered for me.

“Her name is none of your fucking business! Now back off!” Randy spouted.

Randy’s voice had a sharp edge to it. He meant business. There was something about this guy that put him on edge. Cutting his glare off Trent, Randy grabbed my hand and led me away from Trent’s prying gaze. As we walked away, Trent did not take his eyes off me.

“Who was that, Randy?”

Randy said with a weary tone to his voice, “Trouble.”

7.

Randy

I replayed the look on Trent’s face as he stared at Cheyenne on an endless loop in my brain. It made me sick the way he looked at her. Like a piece of raw meat. She was a porterhouse steak he wanted to devour. Not on my watch. The fact that Cheyenne seemed afraid of Trent wasn’t lost on me. She was right to be scared. Trent Myers had more than just a few screws loose. Shit, he made me look downright boring. All jokes aside, the dude has a reputation for hurting girls, in more ways than one. I wasn’t about to let him get close to her if I could help it. I didn’t even know if she was my girl yet, but as usual, when I get pissed off, the contents of my mind spill out of my mouth like a fountain. She didn’t protest, either… so I guess she was my girl.

I got lost in my thoughts as I waited for Cheyenne outside the restrooms which were situated in the parking lot of the fair grounds. Where was she? She’d gone in at least ten minutes ago…

That is when I heard the scream.

It wasn’t a frantic scream. She wasn’t screaming for help. She was cursing somebody out!

My sneakers beat hard on the dirt path that led to the side of the building, running to the source of the notice. Fury swirled in my stomach. Trent Myers towered over her, his black hair hanging down over their faces. He wore black from head to toe, looking like the Reaper himself, and that bastard had my girl pinned to the wall. He held his hand at her collarbone with his fingers pressing into her neck. Blood oozed from his lip.

Well. Nice to know she wasn’t afraid to bite back.

Trent glared at me, his hair falling over his eyes. A sick grin fell over his face before he turned his attention back to Cheyenne. She was just waiting for the opportune moment when Trent would face her and she got it, delivering a vicious sucker punch that sent his jaw flying up.

I didn’t have to run. She had herself taken care of… but I would still need to send this asshole a message. Twisting my fingers into his greasy hair, I pulled Trent to my face just an inch from my bared teeth. Spitting through my teeth, I demanded, “Why are you bothering her?!”

Trent didn’t respond.

Cheyenne outed him, “Tried to sell me this,” she said as she picked up a small plastic bag containing fine white powder inside.

One look is all it took for my rage to boil over. With my fist still holding his hair in a ball, I rammed his head into the concrete wall. Cheyenne screamed as she circled behind me.

“Who is this creep?!” she asked nervously.

I turned to face her.

“You want to know who he is? This will tell you everything you need to know.”

I ripped Trent’s sleeve on his right arm and exposed the Seventy Devils brand on his forearm.

“In this town, if you see this brand, you run. They
will
hurt you.”

Cheyenne peered at me in shock, her blue eyes wide and understanding.

“I’m not trying to scare you. I’m trying to protect you.”

The second I let go of Trent’s arm, he ran off, careening out of sight. Cheyenne led the way over to the picnic table. She slumped down wrapping her legs in front of her. I expected her to look scared. Put off. But she wasn’t. She took it in stride.

“Where are you from, Chey?”

“I grew up just outside of Omaha… and before you ask, Oakeley, Texas, does not own the trademark on crazy. There are crazy folks everywhere.”

“Good to know,” I reply, sounding more relieved than I probably should have.

“So what’s the story?”

“I’m sorry?”

“If I’m going to be your girl, I need to know your story, just like you need to know mine. So what is it?”

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

“You’ll need a psychiatrist afterward.”

“Start with the brand… What did that club do to you?”

“Walk and talk?”

“Nah. My dad’s on his way to pick us up. He’s going to give you a drive home.”

“Your dad?”

Oh, hell.

“Yeah, I was calling him at the payphone when Trent grabbed me.”

“Sorry about him.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”

After a pause, Cheyenne spoke again.

“So dish… What’s the deal?”

“The brand on Trent’s arm… That’s the mark of the Seventy Devils. They are a motorcycle club that likes to stir up trouble around here.”

“Who is Black Horse?”

The question surprised me.

“How’d you hear about him?”

“A couple of guys on the team were harassing Colt about him. Who is he?”

“Colt’s father… Black Horse has torn apart a lot of families in Oakeley, including my own.”

Cheyenne had a pained expression on her face. I wasn’t sure how much I should tell her. I didn’t want to scare her. Realizing the expression on my face, she touched my own, pushing me to go on.

“Black Horse is a psychopath. He murdered my mom, dad and my older brother.”

Cheyenne didn’t say a word. Her eyes did the talking for her. She had seen pain in this lifetime. She knew something about life and death situations. Her eyes told me everything I needed to know.

“I don’t like talking about it.”

She reached her left hand to my shoulder, and with her other hand, she gently cupped my chin.

“We’ve all got stories, Randy. We don’t have to wear them on our sleeves.”

“Habit of mine… My grandmother says that my filter is busted. What’s your story?”

“Well, I told you I’m from Nebraska. I’m the only kid left in my house, but I left a lot of cousins back home who might as well have been my sisters. I miss them.”