"I'm already making this," Thayer said, waving at the bagel. I took this to mean that he wanted Joey's bagel order as well.
"Egg. But she likes one half with cream cheese and the other half with butter. And, ah, pile it on."
"She's all bones," Thayer muttered in response, and there was a warming sensation in my chest at the clear concern in his voice.
"Thank you," I told him, to which he shrugged it off.
With that, I made slow progress back toward the common room, carefully lowering myself down on the couch, sipping my coffee, enjoying the wash of painlessness and the fuzzy lightness in my head. I wasn't one for pain medicine because, well, my poor ass could never afford doctor visits, let alone prescriptions. Advil with a Tylenol chaser was my go-to for anything that a shot couldn't take away.
Feeling the way the pills were settling on me, I could suddenly understand how so many people started to get hooked. Feeling good was a hard sensation to find. It was something many spent their lives chasing. If they could afford the luxury of pursuing such an unnecessary thing.
"Oh, you're up," Joey said, snapping me out of my swirling thoughts. "How are you feeling?"
Her pupils were a little big, and her hands were fidgety, but she was still herself. Not lost under the heavy dose Doug would give her. She was clean, too. Freshly showered, fully dressed in her clothes, even wearing the sweater I had brought her a few weeks ago. She must have found wherever they had been stashed.
"I'm alright. I'll feel better when I have this coffee and a bagel in me. Thayer is getting you some food too."
She moved across the room, sitting down next to me, posture oddly formal, her hands pressing onto her knees. "Thayer seems like a good man."
"If such a thing actually exists, I think he might be one of them."
"He's really sweet with you. Soft."
"I don't need someone to be soft with me."
"Need? No. But that doesn't mean you can't enjoy it, Sera. Don't try to tell me you don't. I know you do. My heart squeezed each time he came in to check your temperature, brushing your hair out of the way, checking your wound, checking your pulse."
"You always liked the mush more than I did, sweetie."
"You just never let yourself like it. You were always too busy taking care of me. And the bills. And your job. You had to be tough to get through all of that. But that doesn't mean you can't let yourself like it now that you have it."
"I don't have it, Joey."
"Sure you do. He is definitely into you."
"It's more... complicated than that."
"You always like to say that even if it isn't always that complicated."
"He kidnapped me."
"He let you go," she shot back, smile curving up. "Remember when Dad used to say that you'd never have to worry about Stranger Danger because anyone who took you would happily give you back in a couple hours..."
"Shut up," I said, but I was smiling.
"What happened with you two?" she asked after chancing a look back at the kitchen, making sure he wasn't coming yet.
"Oh, you know. The usual. We plotted revenge and murder together. We had sex. We had a fight. And... that's it."
"Right. The usual," she agreed.
"Here you go," Thayer said, dropping the plates down on the coffee table. "You girls good? The guys could use a hand outside."
"We're fine."
"Thank you," Joey added a bit pointedly.
"She's the one with the manners," I informed Thayer.
"Color me fucking shocked, babe," he said, but his eyes were dancing a bit before he turned away, disappearing outside.
"Yeah, okay. Nothing is going on there. Nothing at all..." Joey said with an eye roll as she reached for her food, pulling the top off to inspect that he had done it right. He'd spread the butter and cream cheese ridiculously thick. "Why are you fighting it? He's totally your type. But as a bonus, has a job, a home, and isn't a complete and utter jerk."
"He's a drug dealer, Joey."
"Party drugs," she said, shrugging, but refusing to make eye contact, not liking the topic. It had maybe been a careless remark. I was looking down on him for dealing, so she likely thought I must have been looking down on her for using. Which couldn't have been further from the truth. Even if she had a choice in the matter - and I wasn't sure that she did - I couldn't blame her for turning to drugs, to numb all the ugly in her life with Doug. "Besides, there is Peaches too."
"I think the strip club technically belongs to Bea."
"Yeah, but I'm sure the brothers each get a cut too."
"You don't have a problem with him running a strip club?" I asked, reaching for my food.
"Why would I? It's an honest business that employs women who need to make money."
"Who get naked for slimy assholes."
"Topless," she corrected. "They serve liquor, so the dancers aren't fully nude. But, I mean, if the women are okay with the job, who are we to judge?"
This was a different Joey than the one I had known.
She had been idealistic in many ways, not quite turning her nose up at things like stripping and prostitution and drug dealing, but also not wanting to know anything about it, not wanting to think about it, preferring the prettier life I had enabled her to know, not wanting to think about the rougher lifestyle choices out there.
This Joey had known some of the roughest things in life. And while it gutted me to know some of the things she had gone through, I found I liked her ability to see the other side of things, to accept lifestyles other than her own.
"Have you been to Peaches?" I asked.
"Yeah, a couple times. It's actually nice inside. Not seedy like you'd expect. Though I'd imagine that was due to Thayer and his brothers not..." she trailed off at that, shaking her head. "Anyway... yeah, I think maybe you should try not to be close-minded about Thayer. Maybe just let things happen."
"He just spent two years in prison. I don't think he's looking for any kind of relationship or anything."
"He looks at you like he's nowhere near sick of you yet."
"What a huge compliment. Someone who isn't sick of me... yet," I laughed.
"You know what I mean. Sometimes, you are too much for some guys. That doesn't mean you need to be less, you just need to find someone who can handle all that you have to offer. Thayer, well, he seems to have some pretty big hands. That's all I am saying. Maybe give him a fair chance. See where it goes. He might have a lot to offer you."
The thing was, I knew she was right.
Thayer did have a lot to offer. And so what if his lifestyle was a little alternative? So what if he had killed people? Honestly, if Joey had been safe, and I had a gun, I would have done some killing the night before myself. Some people shouldn't be breathing. It wasn't like he was some serial killer just going around and killing people randomly. He'd had a good reason. In my opinion, everyone - every last person - was capable of murder with the right motivator. Taking his club, his legacy, his freedom, his sister, shooting his brothers, yeah, that was enough of a motivator for him. I didn't judge him for that.
I liked him. Maybe more than I should have, given the situation. I enjoyed the way he seemed to get me. I appreciated his ability not to let my occasional snapping to heart, letting it instead roll off his back.
That said, I didn't particularly want to talk about those things. I didn't want to get my hopes up. If I have learned anything about life, it was that it was nothing like TV, like the movies, like the story books we read as kids. It was stupid to think happily-ever-afters were possible.
"Speaking of what Thayer has to offer," I started instead, deciding to get onto a topic that would make both of us a little uncomfortable, but it was something that needed to be discussed. "We kind of had a talk this morning."
"About?"
"About you. In a way. You know... about rehab," I told her, waiting for a grimace, but finding none.
"Right. We need to talk about that. I need to go, obviously. I'm
... I'm detoxing if I don't get something twice a day. It's... awful. And I don't want to live like this. I never wanted to live like this. I want to get back to normal. I want to start over."
"Good. I'm happy to hear that. I figured you would say that. And, well, we both know that I am kind of strapped all the time. And that the state places are hellholes. So, Thayer offered me a generous solution."
"He's going to loan us the money."
Me.
He was going to loan me the money.
But I knew she didn't want to hear that. I knew that once she got home after rehab, she would insist on trying to help pay it back. I wasn't going to let her, of course. I wanted her to focus on getting back to school, starting a new life, a better life. She couldn't do that while desperately trying to pay back money. I, on the other hand, was used to it. It would be nothing new for me. It was fine. But that was something to discuss when she was better, when she wasn't quite so vulnerable.
"Yeah. He wants you to get to a good place. So do I. And he said he doesn't need the money, that it won't hurt his bottom line. I decided to take him up on it. What?"
"Nothing. I maybe like the idea of you being indebted to him is all."
"This is not one of those books you like, hon. Real life doesn't work that way. Strike that, my life doesn't work that way."
"Mmhmm, we'll see," she said, licking some butter off her thumb.
"When we're done eating, you want to look around at some places online? I'm sure there is a laptop around here that we can use."
"Yeah. I'm excited to get back to normal. Move on."
There was a darkness in her eyes as she said it, and I couldn't help but wonder if it would be possible for her to do that. Fully. Without a huge chunk of her missing or some form of PTSD. There would be therapy at rehab, I knew. But would that even be enough?
I guess only time would tell.
"Hey," Thayer's voice called, making me falter a step as I was about to go return our dishes to the sink. "Get your pretty ass back on that couch," he demanded at my raised brow. "You're not supposed to be moving around much. Give me those."
Then he took the dishes from me.
And washed them.
I'd literally never seen a man wash a dish before.
It was quite a sight to see.
"Is it so fucking hard to take it easy for a day?" he asked, brushing past on his way back outside. "Christ."
Alright, I decided as I watched him leave, finding my lips curled up in a goofy smile, maybe I liked the idea of being indebted to him a little bit too.
NINE
Thayer
I thought she would pitch more of a fit about it.
Fighting seemed to be a big part of her nature. Which I found oddly charming. Women who others might call 'difficult' were just my type. A challenge rather than a sure thing. I could be a bit of a bulldozer; I didn't want a woman who would let me run her over.
So when I told her I thought she and Joey should stay at the clubhouse, I thought she would start yelling, arguing. Instead, she studied my face for a long moment, then said she thought it was a good idea.
I wasn't sure why she agreed.
Maybe it was because she was hurt, and needed help, and knew I would force her to take it easy whereas Joey - who through no fault of her own, since Sera had been the one to convince her - would allow her to go too hard if Sera said she could handle it.
Or it could have been that she knew we were handling Joey's dosage until she could get into detox in two days.
Then, of course, there was also the fear factor of Doug's still being at-large. I knew that Joey was anxious about the fact, jumping, stiffening anytime a door opened or voices got louder. I was sure Sera was terrified of going home and possibly having him show up, take Joey, disappear with her again. Or rape and kill them both.
She was safer in the clubhouse, and I was sure she knew that. She had watched us go over the place with a fine-tooth comb, making sure there was no possible way anyone could breach the building once we locked it down. The cameras were changed out. The lights were all working. We'd barred the windows. The front and back doors got ripped off, replaced with sheet steel doors with metal channel locks, as well as an upgraded security system. The place was a fucking fortress. Short of shooting the place up with a really powerful gun, we were as safe as we could possibly be.
Still, I was shocked she'd agreed the night before when, over Chinese, I had suggested it.
I had to admit, I was happy about it. There was no use pretending to deny that. Roux wasn't exactly wrong, I was into her. The more I was around her, the more I felt that way. And, sure, an argument could be made for the fact that she was really the only woman I'd been around since spending three years in a cell, but I had been lucky enough to have spent a lot of my life around more than my fair share of women. So I knew better than anyone that this wasn't simply the promise of ass.
Besides, I wasn't even getting any ass.
I was even okay with that.
I just liked her being around.
"If this was a cartoon, you'd have heart-shaped pupils springing out of your eyes," Bea's voice declared from behind me, making me jolt a bit. Aside from trips out to grab food, she'd been holed up in her room, refusing to let any of us in, not wanting to come out and talk.
"The fuck are you talking about?" I asked, turning, brows drawn together.
"Oh, please. I'm not a little girl anymore, Thayer. You are staring at that woman."
"I wasn't staring at anyone."
"Bullshit."
"I barely know her."
"Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?"
She had me there.
"What? You come out of your room finally just to bullshit about who I do - or don't - want to fuck?"
She looked better than she had when we had finally been reunited with her. Her skin didn't seem so sallow, her eyes weren't as broken. There wasn't a weight pressing down on her shoulders. If anything, there was a calm sort of confidence about her.
"I came out to talk business with you."
"To talk... business with me?" I repeated, feeling my lips twitch.
"Don't," she snapped. "Don't laugh at me. I'm not being silly. This is not funny."
"Alright, alright. What business, Bee?"
Her eyes went a little soft at the nickname, but she quickly pushed it away, lifting her chin a bit. "My business."
"Your... you mean Peaches?" I asked.
"Yes, Peaches. It is in my name, so it is - by definition - my business."
"Bea, you know Pops left it to you with the understanding that you let us run it unless we are dead or locked up. He actually has that in writing. It is meant to help provide for you even if we aren't around to do it."
"That's just it. I don't want - nor need - any of you to provide for me. I am an adult. I own the business. That is what I want to talk about."
I took a breath, trying to steady myself for whatever possibly asinine idea she might have in mind. Cutting us out, refusing to let us sell at the club, turning it into a fucking cat cafe or some shit. "Go on."
"I am going to be in on it. I am going to go over the papers, figure out the payroll. I will decide my cut of the profits, then choose your cuts from there."
It was humbling, I had to admit, to have my little sister as my boss suddenly. That said, I understood her side of it. She'd been used for years, had been under someone's thumb, someone who had nothing but bad intentions for her. She wanted to make sure no one could do that to her again, make her feel weak and vulnerable.
I got that.
She wasn't wrong either.
It was her business. Even if I did want to fight her on it - and I really didn't see how it would be necessary to do so - she would win. It was in paper for years. The business was hers. Our childhood home was hers. The clubhouse was hers. But, currently, she had more to her name than I did.
"Okay. Well, I called Lissa this morning to tell her we were shutting down
for the day, to call the other girls. We need to give Peaches the same treatment we gave this place. Doug had too much access to it. Everything needs to get locked down tight and security systems need to be changed, safes, everything. That was what was on our list today. If that's alright with you, Boss."
To that, her lips curved up a bit tentatively.
"I don't want that bastard anywhere near anything of mine ever again."
"I'm right there with you. It's still going to be a bit nerve-racking for a while. It's just me, Cal, Hatch, and Roux now. It's not nearly enough men to really cover one place, let alone both of them. So we need to be extra careful. I am going to drop some serious money in it to get it to the point where even just the four of us could take care of it."
"I will pay you back as soon as I have access to the money. If Doug didn't already clear it out."
"Well, you can owe me, kid," I suggested, shrugging it off. "Don't worry about the money. I had quite a bit stashed away. It's enough to get us all up and running again. Even with all the new updates."
"Do you think we should look into hiring some more people? For the club," she specified. "Just until you can find some new men here. Outsource a little."
"That's not a bad idea."
And it wasn't.
My pride didn't like the idea of not being able to handle it all in-house. I also knew, though, that I had to do this slow, smart. I couldn't just find the first halfway capable guy, offer him a prospect badge, then move on to the next until our numbers were back up. I needed to really vet everyone, make sure they couldn't be flipped, that they were loyal only to us. That shit took time and patience, things the club might not have if we ended up needing more staff.
We could hire out.
For a while.
It was the smart thing to do.
"I also want to have a sit-down with all the dancers. From the sound of things, Doug was letting them run wild. Turning tricks on the side. Or even in the back rooms. Using."
"How do you know that?"
"I was locked in a basement for two years. I had literally nothing to do but stew. And listen. I listened to everything. I moved Dad's old work table up under a vent, so I could climb up and listen better. Not much went on that I didn't know about. Even if I couldn't see it all. That was how I knew Hatcher and Calloway got shot. With no details about if they were dead or alive. For three days. Before Roux finally agreed to tell me anything."
Revenge - Reckless Renegades 1 Page 13