by Voss, Deja
“Why did you let him do that to you, Sloan? This isn’t just some kinky sex thing.”
“You think this is my fault? That I let him do this?”
She lets out a hard sigh.
“I really don’t know. I’m trying to be a good friend here, but I don’t know how to help you. You are so fucking smart, Sloan. What would you do if you were in my shoes?”
I know exactly what I’d do. I’d kidnap her. I’d stab whoever was hurting her. I’d call the police. I’d do anything I could so she wouldn’t have to endure this life I was putting myself through.
“Just trust me,” I say. She is not me, and I would never want her wedged in this situation. Arthur is dangerous. Arthur kills people. This isn’t her problem. “I have a plan, I promise.”
She looks sad, deflated, and confused. I grab her hand and squeeze it.
“Seriously, Ollie. I’m working on it. Sometimes it has to get worse before it gets better.”
“What’s worse than this? Or the last time? When he puts you in the hospital? When he puts you in the fucking morgue? I can’t believe how ridiculous you’re acting!”
“He just got carried away. I swear. It’s not what it looks like.” I can’t believe I’m defending him. I knew exactly what his intention was as he tied me up and bit me all over. There was nothing sexy about it. It was his way of showing me and the world that I was his property.
“Please, I’m begging you, Sloan. Why don’t we just get you packed up and moved out while he’s gone? You can come stay with me. We’ll go to the cops. I’ll help you do whatever it takes.”
“I wish it was that simple, but it won’t work.”
“Is it because you love him?”
Partially, yes. As fucked up as the situation is, I do love him. I do think things will get better. He’s just really stressed out right now. I stay silent, not wanting to admit to her how I feel because I know it’s going to come out as crazy.
“Is it the money?” She’s angry now. She’s gripping the steering wheel but staring over at me, her forehead wrinkled up tight. “That’s even worse. I never pegged you as a whore, but if you’re trading your body for a mansion and a Maserati, then I guess you are.”
“Get the fuck off it, Olive.”
She hit the nail on the head and stabbed me with a million knives simultaneously.But she’s right.
I am a whore.
And instead of thinking rationally and trying to move forward with my life, the only thing I’m concerned about is if I will be able to afford to keep going to school.
I’m bawling, and as she leans in to hug me, I slap her hand away.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I didn’t mean that.”
“Just take me to the movies, Olive. I want to sit in the dark and rot my brain for a couple hours.”
“All right,” she says sadly. “Let’s do that.”
Chapter 10
Gavin:
“Where the fuck is he?” I say, barnstorming the clubhouse, looking for my father.
The mansion looks exactly the same as it did the last time I was home. Like an oversized hunting lodge swimming with spandex-clad dirty birdies who will do anything for a chance at becoming an old lady.
My father always thought of himself as the playboy of the mountains. This clubhouse was an homage to that. It’s nice, but it definitely doesn’t fit our Mountain Misfit persona.
I have my brother over my shoulder. His dope sickness is coming to a full head, and I don’t know how we made it back in one piece. He’s quaking in my arms, and I don’t think he has anything left in him to throw up.
We should be at a hospital right now. We should be working with the cops. We don’t tend to do the things we’re supposed to do around here.
“Oh my God, Goob,” Trixie says, running over to us. “I’m going to go get Patch.”
“Aunt Trixie!” Even in his condition, he’s happy to see the woman who always seemed to hold things together around here. “Gavin took me on his motorcycle!”
She brushes his hair out of his face and plants a big kiss on his head. Built like a linebacker, there was something strangely comforting about this woman.
“That’s awesome, bud. You look like you need a nap, though. How about we put you down on that couch over there. Do you want some juice?”
“I think I need my medicine. Mom says I’m sick and she pokes me with a needle and then I get better.”
I lay him down on the couch, his skin cold and clammy. Morgan comes over with a wet cloth and a cup of juice and kneels next to him, baby-talking him. These dirty birdies don’t look like they have a maternal bone in their silicone-enhanced bodies, but when it comes to protecting the kids in the club, they go from hoe to housewife in seconds flat. I forgot that no matter how dysfunctional a family we might be, we’re fiercely loyal. We might be at each other’s throats in one breath, but at the end of the day, everyone here would lay down their lives for each other.
“Holy shit, Gavin.” Trixie pulls me aside as she heads for the door. “If you didn’t kill her, you better tell me where she is right now so I can.”
“Go get Patch,” I say. “I’ll tell you about it later.”
Patch is our resident doctor. A founding member of the club, he used to practice in town down below until his retirement. He’s the only one we can trust to clean up after our messes and keep the police out of things.
My father emerges from the basement stairway. He’s holding a big cardboard box.
“My son!” He smiles, his voice deep as gravel. He sets the box on the floor and comes running at me. “I’m so glad to have you home, boy.”
He wraps me in a giant bear hug. His touch makes me cringe. I push him off.
We are caught in a stare-off. I see myself in those dark eyes of his, assuring everything my mother said to me is true. Everything about him, besides the gray in his beard and the angry wrinkle lines carved in his forehead, is a reflection of me. I’m sure one day I’ll have those too. It comes with the territory.
“What’s your deal?” he asks. “Too good for your old man now that you have a fancy piece of paper?”
“I just fucking rode ninety miles with your heroin-addicted ten-year-old son on the back of my bike.”
“Why didn’t you call me? I could’ve brought the truck.”
Of course he’s going to pin this on me. Never mind what led us to this road to begin with.
“What were you thinking, Dad? You know that woman is nothing but a junkie.”
“She came in here throwing paperwork in my face, making a scene. He wanted to go. What was I supposed to do?”
“Keep me in the fucking loop.”
“I didn’t realize you were entitled to that right. Maybe you should’ve been here.”
Maybe I should have.
Definitely I should have.
This club is my life. This is my family. Anything else is just a selfish pipe dream. That diploma means shit in terms of who I’m meant to be.
“I cleaned out Micah’s apartment for you,” he says, motioning to the box. “Figured you should have your own space now that you’re grown.”
“Where’s he supposed to stay when he comes back?” My older brother Micah left abruptly while I was away at school. Joined the Marines and we haven’t heard from him since. Nobody’s talking, so I’m assuming whatever went down was really bad. Or else he just came to his fucking senses and realized that fighting for our country is smarter than fighting whatever battles our father thought were appropriate on any given day.
“Fuck him,” he laughs. There’s more to the story, I’m sure. When it comes to Moses Boden, there’s always more to the story. “We can unpack the moving van tomorrow. Tonight, I just want to enjoy my family together under the same roof.”
There wasn’t going to be anything enjoyable about this night.
Chapter 11
Sloan:
Something had changed in Arthur in the time that he was gone on business.
While
the reminders of our last encounter lingered on my skin, spending a few days with my best friend was good for my soul. She didn’t judge me, just let me pour my heart out while we binge-watched shitty reality shows and ate pizza and drank wine from the cellar that we couldn’t even pronounce.
She helped me put makeup on my arms so I could wear my scrubs to clinical without drawing too much attention. I’m so close to finishing this round of medical school, so close to beginning my fellowship so I can start training to become a surgeon, I don’t need something like this holding me back. I’ve spent my whole life hearing people talk about me behind my back, calling me white trash, judging me by the fact that my parents couldn’t afford to clothe me or feed me properly. I am happy to be out from under those whispers. This would just start the process all over again.
When he gets home from his trip, he doesn’t even say so much as hello, just heads right upstairs, straight to the shower.
I follow behind him, peeking my head in the bathroom.
“Art, hey, how was your trip? I missed you.”
“Yeah,” he says, his voice tired.
“What’s wrong, babe? Do you want me to come in there with you?”
“I’m sorry, Sloan. I’m really tired. Can we talk in the morning?”
It wasn’t like him to act like this. Usually, if he was gone longer than a day, the first thing he’d do is pick me up and carry me to the bedroom.
His suitcase is hanging open on the bed. I go to pull out his dirty laundry so I can throw it in the hamper and two used needles fall out. I don’t want to touch them. I don’t know who he’s shared these with or what they had inside them. As long as I’d known Arthur, he swore up and down that he’d never do drugs.
Buy them wholesale, sure. Sell them, obviously.
The thought of him shooting up makes me want to crawl out of my skin. How long had he been doing it? Was I going to get a disease? I make a mental note to figure out a way to get tested discreetly as soon as possible.
I leave everything there. I know he’ll notice that I saw his stash, but I don’t care. If this is the hill I die on, so be it. I sit on the edge of the bed and wait for him.
As he stands in the bathroom doorway, I feel like I’m going to be sick. Just the way he looks is so off. Wearing nothing but a towel draped around his waist, I notice how slender he’s getting and wonder how long I’ve been able to turn a blind eye to this. This isn’t some one-time experimentation project.
His eyes meet mine, and for a second, I think he looks ashamed, but that quickly gets replaced with anger.
“Why are you going through my stuff?” he barks.
“I was going to do your laundry. What is all this, Arthur?” I say, motioning to his paraphernalia. “Are you using?”
“I’m working with a new client. I had no one to test the product and I wasn’t going to just buy blind. I had to be sure it was good.”
“How could you be so stupid, Arthur? You don’t know if that stuff was laced with anything. You could’ve died!”
“So what’s better?” he asks. “That I let one of my men test it out and possibly die? That I let your dad try it out? Tell me what you prefer, Sloan, since you have all the answers.”
“Why does anyone need to?” I cry. “Why does this even need to be a thing? I thought this was just some sort of side hustle. Why don’t you just drop it?”
He’s picking up his needles and cautiously wrapping them back up in the little towel they must have been nestled in.
“Why don’t you just drop out of school?”
“Don’t pin this on me, Arthur. I used to be employed. I never once asked you for anything.”
“But you took it. You took everything I have to offer. You’re bleeding me dry, Sloan.”
“You OFFERED it. That’s what people who love each other do. They give, with no expectation of anything in return but love.”
“Maybe in your world. In my world, I expect more than just love in return from you. Not everyone gets to live a life like this, you know. I’m sure in the trailer park things are a little different.”
Go ahead, throw my upbringing in my face. I know I come from trash, but I’ve worked hard to escape that. Before Arthur came along, everything I had was a result of my own hard work. I couldn’t ask anyone for help.
“Let’s see, the man I care about more than anyone in the world is putting needles in his arm and acting shady. Sounds pretty trailer park to me.”
“What’s this attitude all of a sudden? I should’ve never let Olive stay here while I was gone. She’s a bad influence on you.”
Of course she is. She’s the only voice of reason I have in this madhouse, and she will likely be my salvation. He knows it. She’s the only person he has left to isolate me from. If I lose her, I’m completely his. And I’ll never let that happen.
“I don’t want to fight with you, Art. You’ve had a long trip and I have studying to do. Why don’t you just go to sleep?”
“Whatever,” he says. “Get your books and come back up here. I missed you so much, I don’t want to let you out of my sight.”
Sure that’s why. He missed me so much.
Even he thinks I’m smart enough to leave. Why can’t I convince myself?
Chapter 12
Gavin:
Who moves up on top of this mountain, into this perfect wilderness, to live in a shitty glorified underground bunker?
I see why my father constructed the house like this, with underground apartments locked behind steel doors, but if I have to live the rest of my life in this dungeon, I’ll probably go insane. At least there was natural light in my old house on campus. Just the sound of the hissing fluorescent overhead light is already giving me a headache.
The bedroom is clinical, cool, minimalist. No traces of Micah are left behind. Our housekeeper has already made the bed up tight and there are fresh towels hanging on the bathroom door. I don’t know if I feel like I’m in a hotel or some sort of white-collar jail.
We got a twin bed for Goob and set it up on the other side of the room and he’s just lying there, watching cartoons. Patch is helping him detox, and I’m doing my best to keep him as close as possible. I brought him back into this mess and now he’s my responsibility.
“Hey, Gav,” Brooks says, standing in the doorway. “Need a hand?”
“I’m about done. What are you getting into?”
“When’s the last time we went hunting together?”
I really can’t recall. The two of us grew up in the woods together and we were shooting guns and skinning animals from the day we had the upper body strength to be able to handle a rifle. We were survivalists before we even knew what the word meant. This boughie act my dad was putting on was nothing like the club we grew up in.
“It’s been too long, bro. What’s even in season right now?”
We might not be law-abiding citizens in every sense of the word, but preserving the wildlife is something the club takes seriously. We don’t poach out of season.
“Whole lotta nothing,” he laughs. “Skunk and possum.”
“I don’t want to leave the kid by himself.”
“I got it,” Trixie says, barging through the doorway. “You don’t worry about him. You’ve done enough.”
If it was anyone else, I’d probably say no, but Trixie genuinely enjoyed taking care of us. She was never considered old lady material and definitely doesn’t look like your typical dirty birdie, but she has a heart of gold and would do anything for the club.
“You sure?”
“I missed having you kids around. Let me spend some time with the little guy.”
“Fuck it.” I shrug. “Let’s just take the four-wheelers out for a spin. If you shoot a skunk though, you’re sleeping outside.”
We stop at the bar upstairs.
“How about some roadies, Esther?” I ask my sister. She pulls out some flasks from behind the bar and begins to funnel some of our family moonshine into them.
“We can be your roadies, Gavin!” Morgan giggles, bellying up to the bar next to me. She has on a hot green tube top that leaves nothing to the imagination, her huge tits swaying as she walks. Her hair is bleached blonde and her makeup is heavy. I have nothing against the girl, she’s just never been my type.
It’s never stopped me from showing her a good time, but I’m sure she’s probably had enough other good times between now and the time I left for school to make me think twice about jumping on that ever again. There’s probably not enough moonshine on the mountain to get me back in the sack with Morgan.
All these dirty birdies are the same, hanging around hoping that one day they’ll have a chance to become an old lady.
Unfortunately for them, they normally end up just old.
Occasionally, one finds herself knocked up, but that’s usually a calculated risk. They’re not stupid, just desperate. I don’t have any disrespect for them; they really do help keep the guys acting at least slightly personable. But these days, they have lost their appeal to me.
“Come on, Gav, what do you say?” Stacy, the token redhead, asks. “We’re just as sweet and refreshing as any moonshine.”
“Stacy, you’re like a gallon of milk left out in the sun,” Brooks chuckles. She punches him in the arm jokingly.
“Asshole.”
“Oh, definitely. This is a man trip, though.”
We barnstorm the front door and head out to the garage.
Chapter 13
“Wanna take the side by side?” I suggest.
There are trails cut all over this mountain and I used to know every single one of them. Now that I’ve been out of practice for a while, I’m sure I’m pretty rusty. Brooks has been here the whole time I’ve been gone, and I trust him to drive.
Sure, I had friends in school, but when you grow up in a club surrounded by brothers, it’s a totally different thing. I’d kill for this man. I’d be killed for this man. I still feel that way after all these years.