Thrash (30 page)
Authors: Kaylee Song
40
Emma looked up from where she was cleaning up one of Snake’s men. “I think almost everything has been taken care of, but talk to Desiree, she’ll know what to do.”
I nodded and looked over the sea of people for her. I spotted her scowling over a patient at the back of the room and hurried over.
“I knew this would happen,” she muttered, frustrated. “This is the way they work. Slash and burn. Then they call me over and ask me to patch them up. Half of them I don’t even know.” Desiree shook her head, and her mumbling died down as soon as she saw me.
“Hey, Nora. You here to help?” she asked, a tense smile on her mouth. I could tell by the way she was looking at me that she was trying to hold it together. The exhaustion in her eyes was thick.
“You just came from work, didn’t you?” I asked.
She nodded. “I had a double today.”
“Has that guy been bothering you?” I asked.
She chuckled. “No, he put in to move to a different shift. He was gone the next day. Never said a word to me. I don’t think he said anything about me, either.”
Maybe he was smarter than he seemed.
“Do you need some coffee? I don’t know much about patching men up, and I’ll be honest, I hate the sight of blood, but I can brew a mean pot of coffee.”
She gave me a weak smile. “Yeah, that would be nice. I bet we could all use a coffee or a whiskey, or both,” she said.
It was a good idea and I headed for the kitchen. I was trying so hard not to think about how they got into the state they were in, or what the other guys looked like. There had been a battle somewhere in Pittsburgh.
The thought was mind-boggling. I couldn’t even fathom how so many men could gun one another down without the police getting involved. But it happened, and according to Desiree, it happened a lot.
I grew up in such a different world. I didn’t know these men.
I started the pot and hunted around for cups. I found Styrofoam cups for the coffee and clear plastic short cups for the whisky and put them all out on the bar. I found a second coffee-pot, too. It was a little smaller and old, but it would do. While the coffee brewed, I scrubbed grime out of the second pot.
As I went back and forth with supplies, eyes started to travel to the promise of caffeine and booze.
I set up a coffee buffet of sorts. Sugar, cream, ancient packets of aspartame. A few packs of coke for the whiskey if anyone was feeling like a buzz…
When the coffee was done, I set it out and got the second pot started.
I was glad to be helping, and the men were grateful for my efforts. Desiree came by for a cup, and Emma downed a shot of the whisky. She stopped at one though. We had a long night ahead and she knew she needed to be able to put in stitches straight.
As the night wore on, I saw their exhaustion, their acceptance that this was just how things were. And that was when it hit me. I felt… weary. Jaded. A little sick. I wasn’t sure where it was coming from, but it was so real and so sudden and so awful, I had to ask one of the other women to bring the fresh pot out.
She didn’t think much of that, but she did it. And I tried to breathe and make sense of my own horror.
There were men in critical condition here, and people were behaving as though it was normal. This… This was not normal.
I was deeply shaken by it all and I was too tired to even understand why.
When Thrash came by and put a hand on my shoulder, I flinched with surprise. He beckoned me to come with him.
I sighed and followed him out. All that blood on his shirt. It hadn’t bothered me when I first saw him. There had been one thing I had wanted to know then, and that was whether he was alive and well.
The blood on his bandages was darker and had spread, but he just kept walking.
I knew he wanted to talk, but talking was the last thing I needed. All I wanted to do was close my eyes and cry and make it all go away...
41
I wanted to hold her, to tell her that it was all over. That everything would be okay. Instead, I was confronted with the same horror that had torn me down earlier that night. And I cringed inside.
So she had finally seen it. Seen the reality of my world. She didn’t even know what I had done. What I could do.
I held her arms and tried to steady her. I was worn out. I didn’t know what to do. I knew trying to fuck her wouldn’t help. Not where she was. I wasn’t even sure if I could kiss her, but I leaned towards her anyway.
She let me kiss her lips but she didn’t respond. Instead she turned her head slightly away after a moment, caught in her own thoughts.
“Nora?” I asked as I looked down at her. “Are you okay?”
She pursed her lips. “I’m fine.” Lie. It was a lie.
“Is it all over?” she asked.
“For now.”
“For now?”
I nodded. “This is a hard life, Nora. I can’t make any promises this won’t happen again.”
“You never can.” I heard the exasperation in her voice, and it made me wince.
“No, I can’t. Not where the club is concerned.” It was the honest truth. I was a part of it, and when it needed me, when something happened, I would always be there to defend it.
She furrowed her brow.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I said, my insides clenching. “I never lied to you. And you said you understood.”
“I know.” She said, slowly. “I just didn’t realize what that meant.”
I could feel her slipping away from me. I watched as she wavered between me and the clubhouse, looking at us both.
She didn’t have to say it. I knew what was coming. When she spoke, her voice was like an echo. “I – I think I need some time.”
I bowed my head. I wasn’t going to fight her on it, not now. Not when I barely had any fight left him me. “I understand... Figure out what you can handle…”
I wanted to add,
please come back
, but it wouldn’t come. I couldn’t give anymore.
She reached up and caressed my face. “I do love you, DeMarcus.”
I let her touch me. My insides were screaming and writhing, but I let her touch me, desperate for any way to feel her again. I didn’t dare touch her. I didn’t know what I would do.
“I know,” a man with my voice said.
And that was it. She turned and walked away. I watched her hop into my truck and drive off, leaving me with nothing but a view of the tail-lights.
I’d probably be mad about the truck. I should be mad about the truck. But right then, all I felt was hollow, like something in me had died.
I felt like my life had just walked away, and nothing I did was going to fix it.
The only person who could do a damned thing was Nora, and she had to figure that out for herself. If she didn’t…
I sat back on the steps and leaned on my knees, and rode the pain shuddering through me, trying to contain it, keep it private. I fought not to howl at the parking lot full of vehicles.
Live or die, succeed or fail, sometimes there was nothing to do but face the beast.
42
I stared at the ceiling of the apartment in a daze. I’d asked for space. It was a reasonable request, but it didn’t feel reasonable at all. It felt awful. Like my insides were boiling and my heart was going to burst out of my chest.
Seeing them all like that had made me understand just how fragile all of their lives were. Our lives: his and mine. If he died, I didn’t know what I would do. I didn’t know if I could stand it. There was no way I could understand it.
I needed to breathe. To make sense of what I had just seen.
Walking away had hurt. It scared me, made me wonder whether he would forgive me. Whether he would understand.
He couldn’t read my mind, and he was under so much stress… But so was I. I had to deal with my own problems if I wanted to be able to handle anything, much less help him.
I’d made the right decision, even if it hurt.
Still, I was using his truck and staying at his apartment. I couldn’t keep doing that, could I? It was selfish and silly. But I couldn’t go back to the collective either.
They had all but told me that I wasn’t welcome there this morning. I’d come in with a new set of paintings, they took one look at them and told me that they were not going to be showcasing them. That they didn’t fit the “vision” of the place, whatever that meant.
I sighed. I definitely couldn’t avoid Fire and Steel’s mural. I’d have to go back. I needed the money if nothing else. But I needed to finish it, too. It would bother me if I didn’t…
The conference room was almost done. In a weird way, I was glad it wasn’t done. Avoiding Thrash for a while would be hard, but when something bothered me this deeply, it helped me if I had something to perfect and finish. Untangling one problem and setting it right helped me figure out how to solve others.
The mural gave me a clear path, a real goal. I was truly grateful for that. Maybe once I was done with it I would know how to adjust. At the very least, I would have a better idea about whether to stay or leave.
I sat down and rubbed my forehead with both hands.
I already knew who I wanted to be with. I just didn’t know if I could handle the cost of it. Really handle it.
I could make a thousand promises, but they were all lies if I couldn’t actually do it. I had meant it when I said I loved him. There was no doubt there. Love could make a person brave, but it didn’t make things easier. And sometimes things just… didn’t work.
Tears welled up in my eyes and pain tightened my throat. I wanted us to work out. I wanted us to work out! I just didn’t know how to do it!
My mind flashed to all those bodies, shattered bones and blood and split open skin, and I had to lean over and hug my thighs to keep from throwing up. That could happen to Thrash. Realistically, it probably would, too. All those graves…
I inhaled breath after breath trying to understand why this was the way the world was, but I just couldn’t. I was a dreamer. It was a strength and a weakness at once. Dreaming helped me deal with so much, but I always had a hard time when I had to face the ugly in life. I liked to study how life worked, break it down gently and then recast it, improve it, hope for more from it.
The reality that some things just couldn’t be fixed horrified me.
That was my real fear. There were things in my past that I couldn’t fix. That I had to run away in order to survive as who I was. I didn’t think I could handle doing that with Thrash. Not if things got any deeper. I had become a part of his club, his family. I was in love. My soul cried out for that man, even now.
I wouldn’t be able to recover if I had to run away from his life. It would break me.
It seemed easier to find a way to walk away now, slowly extricate myself. Finish the mural and then stroll out, a beautiful memory waving goodbye over her shoulder with sad eyes…
It was a romantic idea.
It was also bullshit. It was an excuse. A distraction from the real problem.
How was I going to handle my own fear? Would I stay or leave? I wanted DeMarcus, but was I the best person for him? Could I really live his life?
I needed to figure that out.
I took a deep breath in and laid back to stare at the orange walls. He had collected so much. All these paintings… All vibrant. All pensive and analytical and so incredibly passionate. So sensual. It was like looking at the life of a man captured in stills: in acrylics and oil pastels, and even a few watercolors…
I fell asleep on the carpet, curled up in a ball, surrounding by beautiful pieces of DeMarcus’ soul.
43
We never died of old age, not one of us. We all just gave our lives to something.
I searched the crowd until I saw her. Nora. She was standing with the other women, whispering as they eyed Crowe’s coffin. Were they soothing her? Were they telling her about me? Was she saying her goodbyes?
She never once looked at me.
I tried to block it out of my brain and focus on the coffin I was carrying. How many times in the last year had I done this? I’d do it as many times as necessary. These were my brothers. They deserved to be carried to their rest with honor.
Father O’Brien sent his soul off with the same words he always said for us. They had become like a mantra in my mind, verses set aside for our deaths. He knew what it was to be our priest. To live in this area. He was never surprised when the ladies called him.
Those weary eyes said it all as we set yet another coffin before him said it all. But he never spit on it. He took our confessions, and he buried our men.
There was no rain today, no. The sun shone fiercely, bringing with it the last warmth of summer. The warm breeze flitted through the trees, easing my grief. Fall was almost here, the trees’ leaves turning their oranges, reds, and purples.
Change… Everything changed. When I fought it, it hurt me. When I looked it in the eye, I might actually be able to watch our backs.
I took my place among the mourners. Fuck, if it wasn’t hard sometimes.
I stared at Nora, willed her to look at me, to acknowledge me. But she stood there, fixated on the casket while Fire and Steel formed a wall of bodies around here.
I boiled. All her promises, all the things she said she would do, all the things she said didn’t matter to her, they were a lie. It was all a lie. I bit back my anger and looked her over, regret overwhelming me.
Or maybe now she understood the price we paid. Could I blame her? What had she ever seen that would prepare her for this? Ours was a high price, one I wouldn’t wish on anyone. Why had I brought her into this mess?
Something stirred inside of me, reminded me that she hadn’t said she didn’t want me.
I think I need some time…
I wanted to scream. I needed her to work with me. I didn’t know how to fix this. I couldn’t change this life. And damn it, when I got right down to it, I resented her for wanting me to. This was my life.
She had said she understood that.
I could run off with her. I knew the stories. But running away from life never ended well.
I had grown up dreaming of slaying dragons and rescuing the princess. I had always imagined that maybe the girl would do something interesting after she kissed me. That maybe we could play together. Or that she might like my books too and share her own with me.
It had been a stupid dream. A child’s need for friendship and love.
When I had hit puberty, I’d realized there was a fuck-ton more to it. I’d learned I had other needs. They felt great when I got it right, and hurt like hell when I got it wrong.
Somewhere along the way, I had become a man. I had kept reading. I had kept picking at old ideas. And I had realized intellectually that a man and a woman should be able to love each other and depend upon one another. And that they should be able to be friends, too. But I had a hard time finding examples in my life to study.
My father had died before I could understand how my parents’ relationship worked. My mother had resented his way of life while he was alive and she had never let me forget it, even when he died for it.
Bones had been a father figure, but he and his wife had never gotten along well. Their fights had never gotten resolved. They had just fought and fucked, snapping and snarling like dogs until finally she left him.
When Rage and Layla had gotten together, I had been happy for them. I had tried to stay out of it. But I had been skeptical that it would work out. Watching them work through their problems in their own way had surprised me. I had been glad for them, but that was their life, not mine.
Then Wrath had come along. He had earned his place, earned our trust. When he brought his girl in, I thought he was an idiot. They seemed too alike. Too volatile. And they did fight, but not like Bones and his wife had. They didn’t tear each other down.
Wrath had a mouth, and he occasionally shot it off like a dumbass, but I’d never seen Emma put up with it. The woman was ferociously proud, but she wasn’t vicious. From what I had seen, she fought back, but honorably. She drew a line in the sand and she didn’t back down. In the end, Emma grieved, Wrath brooded; they sorted it out and fucked like rabbits. That was just how they did it.
I celebrated for my friends, but I didn’t want exactly what they had.
It was when I understood what I didn’t want that I had stumbled on what I did want. I had found Nora. And by then, I had started to believe it might be possible for me.
Studying her art, I had… recognized her. When she spoke to me, I had felt my body come alive. All of it. My skin had tingled. My muscles had clenched. My cock had stirred. And my mind had crackled like a sparkler.
I had felt so alive…
I had been sure it was a rare thing, but I hadn’t expected it to last. When it did, I had trusted her. I had let myself love her, really love her.
Now, part of me hated her for being afraid. For backing out.
Taking time
.
I needed her. I really needed her, and I needed her to come back.
Figure out what you can handle, I’d managed to say.
I remembered it, but I was amazed I’d been able to say anything. All I had wanted to do was rip the sky down and shred it around me, even if it scared her worse. Especially if it scared her worse. Because it was a lot easier to destroy things than it was to trust another person with something like this.
With all of me.
It wasn’t over yet; I could still get her to see me, to love me. I had time.
“DeMarcus?”
The familiar voice brought me out of my trance, made me realize I had been staring into space for who knew how long. The service was over.
I had been so lost inside myself that I almost didn’t recognize her.
“Mom.” I was surprised she had come. The sad smile on her face told me she hadn’t come to support my life decisions. Crowe had been part of the old crowd. She had probably come to see him off.
“I always liked Crowe,” she said softly. “He had a soft spot for you kids. I wish he had gotten out.” He couldn’t have been more than forty. That was old for us.
There was no getting out. You fought to protect your area. If you chose to leave the club, retire as it were, everyone still knew who you were. Your enemies would look for you, and you would be on your own. Fire and Steel would come, of course, but living away from it meant it would take some time for them to get to you.
Crowe could have lived on his own, but he probably would have died sooner. Bones would have picked him off. And staying at the clubhouse – he couldn’t just sit back and let us do the work. The man could still fight. Still do patrols. Still work.
That was the life.
Mick only stayed behind because he would have been a walking bomb with that tank. That was how dedicated we were.
My mother had to focus on the end, as if all the work we did along the way to our graves meant nothing. As if the logistics of Braddock would magically go away if we all pretended the gangs weren’t real, that drugs would never come, that teenagers never got into trouble, and on and on. That was a whole lot of lies to swallow, and none of them would end well if we followed them.
Life didn’t bow to our rules. We bowed to life and found a way to make things work. We didn’t bow to anyone else, though.
I looked over at my mother, with her good intentions and waspish tongue, and noticed the wet paths staining her round cheeks. Her sadness was real. She did care. She was just looking at it all from a different angle. She couldn’t see why I had made my decisions.
It didn’t matter. I knew what I had to do. And I’d try to respect her while I did it, because she was my mother. But that didn’t mean I liked these conversations.
“Did you bring Desiree with you?” I asked.
My mother shook her head. “She refused to come. Said that she couldn’t handle anymore right now. Have you been asking her for help again?”
I didn’t answer.
If there was one thing that would set my mother off, it was having both of her children involved in club business. I knew this. Desiree knew it. If I hadn’t been so tired, I wouldn’t have asked.
“Your sister needs her own life,” she reminded me grimly.
I just stared straight ahead and kept my voice steady. “I don’t want to get into this here.”
She was silent for a moment before she spoke again. “You are both adults, now. You can do what you want. I just worry about you. Both of you.” She laid her hand on my arm. “Come on now. Hot coffee and food will help.”
I followed her back to the lot and we headed out, me on my bike, her in her Chevy. It was a fucking ugly car, but she liked it.
When we reached the clubhouse, I expected her to head for the door. I set my helmet on the saddlebag and leaned onto the console, trying to get it together.
She might wait for me, we might part ways. Whatever. She parked quickly, though, and made sure to come to me before I could head inside.
I sat back up and forced a smile.
She hesitated, then said, “I don’t mean to pry.”
Of course she meant to pry. She was my mother. That’s what mothers did.
“I noticed your lady friend was here today, but she didn’t talk to you. … Is everything okay?”
I shrugged. I didn’t want to talk about it. “Just what I deserve.”
“I don’t know about that.” My mother gave me that look, the knowing one that made me crazy. She added, “She stayed behind for a while. I think she wanted to speak with you –”
I felt my insides twitch, relieved and unhappy at once.
My mother went on, “I asked her if I could have some time. I wanted to check up on you, see how you are. And I had a feeling that you didn’t want to talk. Not just then.” She tilted my chin up to her, one brief gesture from my childhood. It made my chest hurt. I let her look at me a moment, then pulled away.
She sighed. “You are so much like your father. He would get that same look on his face, and I knew, I knew he just needed to be left alone…” She trailed off.
“Yeah. Thanks, mom.” My mother was right. I hadn’t wanted to talk. I still didn’t want to. If Nora had tried to speak to me, she probably would not have liked the result.
“She’s a pretty girl, nice,” my mother nudged gently. “And she loves you. … You deserve a love like that, DeMarcus. You hear me? I held you in my arms when you were a baby. When you were a little boy… I raised you. I know you. You are a good man. You just think yourself into a box sometimes. Don’t let a girl who is willing to put up with all of this get away. You hear me?”
“Maybe she isn’t willing to put up with all of this.”
She shook her head. “If that were true, she would’ve taken off already. Remember, I’ve already done this. I know how it works. You aren’t us, though. You’ll know how to make her happy. And I believe she will be happy with you.”
That eased the knot in my chest, let me breathe finally, as if she had just unlocked the door and let the stale air out.
Before it could get too mushy, she pointed to the clubhouse and the soft note in her voice died away, replaced by her usual grit.
“Go on. Get in there. You’re the Vice President of the club, and you need to start acting like it.” She shooed me along. “They need you.”
I nodded and climbed off the bike. At the door, I turned back and gave my mother a small wave. I felt like I was ten again, like I was being dropped off at school or something.
She smiled at me, blew a kiss like she used to and walked back to the truck. She didn’t even look back. Didn’t matter if she agreed with me or not. She’d always be there for me, for as long as she could.
She’d always be my mother.
* * *
I went in the back way and stopped by my room first to make sure I had my shit together.
As I headed out, though, I caught sight of Nora. She stood there at the end of the hall, as though she had seen me come in and froze. She was holding her arms and looking directly at me. I could tell at once she was worried.
She was so beautiful like that. Sweet and kind, and a little scared. I didn’t want to move or say anything or even breathe the wrong way. Nora was so fragile to me at that moment that I didn’t want to scare her away. I wanted to take her in my arms and never let her go.
But I wasn’t welcome there. Not right now.
I just need some time…
I just looked at her and said, “Hey.”
“Hi. I, um, I’m sorry, Thrash.” She shifted from foot to foot, awkward and elegant at once. “I’m sorry about what I said. I was angry, and I was scared, and I don’t always know what I am doing.”