by Jessica Joy
“It’s ok Gage. Please, don’t stop. I’m not going anywhere,” she says, knowing that I need the nudge.
“Sal ended up having to head back to Italy for a few weeks and I was passed off to one of his lieutenants, Johnny Costa. I never liked Johnny, always so sure of himself and always using his family connections to get what he wanted whether he deserved it or not. But I was a good little toy soldier and I accepted the temporary inconvenience of having to do his bidding. Johnny sent me on a few jobs that were pretty normal, a few smashes, a couple beat ups, nothing out of the ordinary. Then, Johnny comes by the bar and says he’s got something special for me, Sal’s special request that I handle it. I don’t think much of it since it wouldn't be the first time Sal asked for me to handle something personally. I take the address and the details and make my way to the guy’s place.”
“The man’s name was Marcus Schneider. A name that I will never wipe clean from my conscience. He apparently owed a few hundred grand from a bad streak of gambling and had ditched the last few attempts to settle up. Seemed pretty standard so when I knocked on his door the last thing I expected was to have a fuckin’ kitchen knife flying at my face the moment the door opened. I slapped his arm aside and kicked him back into the shitty two bedroom apartment. Marcus grabs a bat and comes back swinging. I have nowhere to go in the narrow entry of the apartment so I charge him, knocking him backward and into one of the bedrooms. The man won’t stop, he keeps clawing, hitting, puching; it’s all I can do to keep him off me he’s so ferocious. I finally get my feet under me and throw him off. The bat is at my feet and I grab it, swinging upwards hard and catching him in the jaw. He falls backward and smashes his head into the hardwood dresser wedged in the corner of the room,” I pause there, the scene vivid in my mind. I’m almost there, I need to finish it.
“I collect myself and decide to go check on Marcus. I had assumed I had just knocked him out with the bat hit but as I round the bed I see the growing pool of blood on the carpet. I roll him onto his back and see the dent in his skull from the dresser. I check his pulse but I really don’t need to, the blood isn’t pumping from the wound and checking his neck just confirms it. He’s dead. As I’m leaning over the body I hear a thump from behind me and I whip around, ready for a fight. What I was not ready for was a scrawny ass thirteen year old boy standing in the doorway to the bedroom with his backpack on the floor. It’s then that I notice the room. It’s a kid’s room. Posters and action figures and shit all over. I… I froze. Just staring at the kid and having no idea what to do. The kid just says one word and it snaps me out of my reverie. He just asks, ‘Dad?’ and I knew I was fucked. I... ran.”
I cut off, emotion clogging my throat for a moment. Lexi’s hand comes to rest on my forearm, offering comfort. In this moment, reliving my darkest days, I feel something breaking free inside, something that feels foreign and familiar at the same time. I love this woman, and she has the ability to completely destroy me. But I want it. I want her, I need her. I want her to see the core of me, to see the darkness within me because deep down I know she can handle it, and maybe fix it. I collect myself to finish this mess.
“The next day I find out that the kid filed a police report about the whole thing but the Family squashes it. It wasn’t too hard since apparently seeing yer dad dead on yer bedroom floor is a little traumatizing and makes for a bad eyewitness report. Johnny says nothing about it to me or to DiMarco, he just disappears the whole thing like it never happened. But I knew, I knew what I did that night and I couldn’t get it out of my mind. Johnny starts to use me for the shit he doesn’t want to deal with and I know I can’t refuse him like I used to. Pretty soon I’m more than an enforcer, I’m a blunt instrument used to kill men whose only reason to be on a hit list is that they were inconvenient. Two years of this goes by and with each death I’m transported back to a kid’s bedroom and the quiet question of, ‘Dad?’ with each kill.”
“One night, I’m waiting for the L to go back to my apartment, having just been paid for my last job, when I feel a searing pain in my back,” I turn and lift up my shirt showing her the scar hidden in my ink over my shoulder blade. “I didn’t know what was happening, but someone just tried to stab me in the back and fucked it up. I spin, throwing a punch and quickly disarming the guy behind me in a black hoodie. He trips over his own feet and the hood falls back to reveal a teenage boy. I couldn’t forget that face, it was the Schneider boy.”
“I’ll never forget what he said to me that night.”
“You! Give me back my knife! Fight me!” he shouts, tears starting to stain his face.
“Go home kid, ye don’t know what ye’re doing,” I sneer, tossing the knife off the platform. The kid gets to his feet and stands his ground.
“You… You ruined my life!” he screams, his body shaking in rage. “You are worse than those fucking needle pushers on 8th. At least they have the decency to peddle some pleasure before they destroy homes and lives.”
I’m reeling with the violence this kid is throwing off. He’s clearly got something to say but I don’t know that I want to hear it. “What the fuck are ye going on about kid?”
“You… You killed my father, but you should have just killed me that day too!” he shouts.
“What’re ye going on about?” I slip my hand into my jacket pocket and grab the derringer I carry just for moments like these.
“He sucked, my dad, but he at least paid the bills. But the moment you killed him you ended my life too. Mom’s never home now, she works eighteen hours a day just to put food on the table. I had to drop out and pick up shifts at the gas station to make a little cash on the side to buy clothes. The moment you killed him was the moment you ended both our lives, as shitty as they were,” the kids says, revving down but now crying fully. “You killed him for what? Some money? Why!? What the fuck did he do to deserve that? Play some fucking cards? You goddamn low life piece of shit. Who are you to say who dies? Or are you just doing the bidding of some other asshole?” The accusation causes me to start and take a step back. The kid doesn’t know how close he’s come to the mark to my dark mood after another job. My palms are slick with the sweat of pain and adrenaline, not all of it coming from my bleeding back.
“That’s it, isn’t it. You are just some petty thug working for men who tell you what to do. No! You’re worse than that, you… you… you fucking lap dog! I bet they pet you and tell you ‘good boy’ and you just wag your tail and go fuck up someone else’s life don’t you!?”
The accusation hits me like a truck and I let go of the pistol grip in my pocket and feel the roll of cash sitting next to it, the payment for tonight's bloody work. It’s soaking wet with my sweat but I swear it must be blood. The blood of violence they sent me to do, the blood of every knee I smashed, of every finger cut off, the pool of blood from every head bashed in… I could feel it soaking into my jeans, into my soul. I had to get rid of it, the thirty pieces of silver for another Schneiderman killed tonight. I need to leave, I can’t do this anymore.
“Kid, ye don’t know what yer talkin’ about,” I say, the fight draining from my voice. He just stands there, waiting for something to happen. “Just, feckin’ take this and go home before ye get yerself hurt.” I say, tossing the wad of bills to him. It’ll never be worth what I took from him, but it’s the best I can do right now. He catches the roll and examines it in the weak light.
“Why?”
“Because it’s the best I can do. Git,” I say as I shoo him off.
He takes off running into the night and I’m left standing on the platform, slowly bleeding from the cut on my back and now broke as fuck.
“I ran back to the apartment that night and all I could see was blood. Blood drenching every stitch of fancy clothing, every piece of furniture, every inch of that apartment. It was all bought with the blood that I spilled and I didn’t want anything to do with it ever again. But I knew that I needed to never forget my purpose, never forget what I left so I needed a reminder to never let it h
appen again. I stood in the apartment and just stared at all my things until it hit me. Silver. DiMarco loves fancy things and insisted that I have the best if I was going to work for him. He gave me a set of silver cutlery and I knew that was it. I packed my bags, grabbed the box of silver and never looked back. Once I got some distance, I had that silver melted down and minted myself thirty pieces of silver. The family crest on one side, the DiMarco business logo on the other. They’re in a velvet pouch back at the compound and they remind me to never again take money for blood. I will never again be that man who kills the innocent for another.”
I trail off at this point. Not wanting to scare her any more than I have. She must sense the change and instead of pressing further she reaches out and turns my chin toward her, forcing me to look at her. She studies me for a moment, I’m not sure what she is seeking but she must find it, because she gives an almost imperceptible nod before leaning in and pressing her lips to mine. It's a sweet, unhurried kiss, but it hits me square in my aching chest, soothing the hurt. There is more behind this kiss than any other I have ever experienced. There is understanding and acceptance in this kiss. Familiarity and comfort. I pull back and rest my forehead against hers, breathing the same air for a moment.
“Go raibh maith agat Mo chuisle”
“What does that mean?” she says with a soft smile, but not pulling away.
“Thank ye, my pulse.”
“Thank you? For what?” she asks, sitting up straighter but not pulling her hand from mine.
“For not running. For not being afraid of me after hearing all that,” I explain, finally looking up again.
“Gage, your past made you who you are. And who you are, is pretty amazing. I would be an idiot to let that go, to not see you for who you are now. You are more than your past,” she says with such conviction, so much sincerity it steals my breath.
I fuckin’ love this woman. That thought should terrify me but instead I tag the back of her neck and pull her to me for another kiss.
Chapter 26
Gage
Well fuck. Apparently bearing your soul and digging through years of repressed bullshit can cause insomnia. So here I am, naked with a goddess on my arm, unable to find the sleep that I really need after something so draining. I glance over at the clock and a glowing red 5:00 AM is staring back at me. Fine.
With a quiet groan I pull my arm from under the waves of red hair and settle the blanket back over Lexi. Making my way to the little dresser, I pull on enough clothes to be decent and make my way down the hall to Sawyer and Tessa’s room. Sneaking in, I go to Sawyer’s side of the bed and marvel at the string of drool coming from the grumbling snore machine. I give him a little tap in the center of his forehead and his eyes snap open. He’s on edge enough to know not to move until he figures out what’s up, trying to keep as much initiative as possible, when he locks eyes with me.
“Omelet Time,” I say quietly. He gives a slight glance at the clock and narrows his eyes at me, clearly unhappy. I just stare back at him until he gives the slightest nod and I make my way out of the room and to the kitchen. I get out the pans and ingredients as Sawyer comes stomping out to flop on a bar stool at the counter to stare me down.
“Why the fuck are we having omelets on a Thursday at 5:00 AM Gage?” he mumbles, trying to wipe the sleep from his face. I pour him a glass of OJ and go back to my cooking.
“For the same reason we always have omelets, te gossip about the women folk,” I say, shooting a smile over my shoulder and earning a groan from him.
“Gage… I do NOT need to hear about you boning Lexi. Again. I’m glad you’re feeling up to the task Brother, but now doesn’t really seem like the time,” he groans, scrubbing his hands over his face.
“Nah, ye got it all wrong Sawyer. A gentleman never kisses and tells,” I prod, earning a snort and a chuckle. There we go, got to get him warmed up enough before I unload. I keep stirring and then folding the eggs in front of me, getting them to the right shape and falling into the familiar physical rhythm. It feels nice to have things that come easily that are just there with the few gaps still floating around in my mind.
“Gage, spill. You don’t call ‘omelet time’ without a specific purpose. Whatcha need?”
Damn, guess he was more awake than I thought. “I… wanted te talk about Lexi,” I manage to say, trying to find the right way to begin untangling this mess of thoughts in my head.
“You mean your little potato? Yeah dude, I get it. You like her and it’s cool with me and Tessa. Frankly we were waiting for you to catch up with the rest of the crew,” he says, taking a swig of the juice and leaning back in the chair, challenging me to contradict him.
Pulling the first omelet off the pan and onto a plate a push it in front of him, maybe it’ll shut him up. I turn back to the stove and start making the second.
“It’s more than that ye dolt,” I say, talking to the wall. “I… I’m pretty damn sure I love the lass.” I hear his fork hit the plate and a slow clap starts to come from him.
“Finally, there it is. Gage, Brother, I’m glad you can finally admit what’s been plain as day to the rest of us for way too fuckin’ long,” he says, smiling back at me with that shit eating grin of his. Okay, maybe I’m not saying this right.
“Shut the fuck up,” I snap, earning me a hurt look of pure pathetic. “Seriously, Sawyer. I just opened up te her in a way tha’ I never have te another person. Including yer sorry ass,” I close, pointing the spatula at him before going back to my omelet and sliding it to my plate.
“Is this about that business in your past you want to tell me about?” he asks, joking nature sliding away.
“Yes, but no. I don’t want te talk about it yet, but she knows me better than any now, including ye.”
“You know you can trust me Brother, no need for the secrets. God knows we’ve got plenty of that shit flying around all of us right now,” Sawyer says, giving me a look.
“Yeah, I know. It’s just not the right time. I’ll tell ye Brother, just, just give me some time there now the djinn’s out o’ the bottle.”
“Gage. Lexi’s had a hard go of it, and for some godforsaken reason she thinks you’re good for her. If you think she’s ‘yer little potato’ then all I can do is say, good luck.” he sticks his hand out for a shake which I grasp and squeeze. “But Brother, I need to know you’re with me. I need to know you don’t have any other secrets that can fuck us or the Sons over.”
“Sawyer, ye know that even without me memories I’d ride by yer side. But planning what we’re planning. Are ye sure ye want this? Are ye sure ye want the murder of Brothers on yer soul?” I hold tight with his grip, looking him in the eyes to make sure he truly means whatever he is about to say.
“With everything that I am, I will do whatever is necessary to restore the Sons to what they were under King. I would kill them all personally if it was the only way to solve the problem. I have the death of more than one brother already on my soul,” he says touching his chest where his bumblebee tattoo sits, “I will bear any burden, pay any cost for this Club, for my Brothers. I ran once before, never again. I will fight each and every one of these fuckers until they are dead, or I am.” His stare drills back to me, full of fire and fury. This is what I needed to see. To know that the man in front of me was committed to the end, whichever that end turns out to be.
“Gage, are you with me?” he asks, “Are you with me through the fire and blood coming?”
“Always Brother, Always.”
Chapter 27
Lexi
“Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck,” I stutter, trying to focus. I can’t believe I’m in this and I can’t believe Tessa agreed to help. Do you know what it’s like to drive in rush hour traffic in the Chicago suburbs? It’s insanity and I never want to do this again.
“There, that’s the exit,” says Tessa, pointing to the next road sign. We’re almost late, but I think we’ll make it if the GPS is any good indication. A few minutes later w
e’re pulling into a quiet but well-kept strip mall with a few big stores on each end and a bunch of smaller ones in the middle. The shop in the middle is our destination, Namaste Yoga and Pilates Studio. Yes, we’re going to Yoga.
We’ve been cooped up in the house that murder built for a week since the plan was set and things are starting to move. I wish we could say that we were just going out for a stretch but to Gage’s credit, we’re on a mission critical to ‘Concerto Number Two.’ I have no idea how the idiot brigade comes up with this shit but they insist on calling the murder plan that. If it keeps them happy and from each other’s throats, I’ll play along.
I pull the car into a parking spot and look over at Tessa, “You sure you want to do this?” I ask, not quite convinced that momma Tessa really wants to have a part in this crazy scheme.
“I’m here aren’t I?” she says annoyed. I’ve probably asked her that twenty times since Gage asked me to do this part, but I’m still not convinced.
“Tess, you can just stay with Evan and stay out of the way. Keep him safe and just wait out the storm,” I push, thinking I’ll be able to get her to back down finally and to stay in the car.
“Lexi, I love you, but shut the fuck up. Love the man, love the club. Whether they say it or not, we are just as important to this plan and just as deep in the shit as they are. Grab the fucking bags, we’re late.” she pops the door putting an end to the conversation. Guess that settles that.
I pop the trunk and grab the two big duffels, handing one to Tessa, and we make our way into the studio. It’s one of those smaller affairs that is narrow but deep. The lady at the counter looks up at us in our mismatched outfits and barely hides her sneer at how not put together we look. It’s tough to come up with a cute workout outfit when you are piecing a look together from things that were left behind by a string of mistresses and hook ups. At least the washer worked and everything was clean.