by L. J. Woods
And out of my life.
“Get the fuck out, Rayne.”
“B-but—wait. I need you.” I can feel her behind me but I can’t look back. I won’t. “I really fucking need you.”
“Yeah, well I don’t need you.” The pain ripping through my chest makes me feel like I’m at death’s door. “Get out of my life. Out of Eden. And don't ever come back."
Twenty-Five
Christian
Black Sabbath blares from the speakers, smoke billowing through the skunk-stenched room.
Everything’s a blur. Has been for the last few days. No classes. No practice.
Just sheer fucking misery. And misery loves company.
“This shit is liiiit,” Isaac slurs beside me, handing me a glass straw. He chuckles, “I don’t know about you, but I haven’t been able to feel my face for the last fucking hour.” He means the last seventy-two hours.
The penthouse suite is far from sweet having been here for a few days. After handling shit with the police, and not mentioning Ray’s name once, it’s where I’ve been to hide from it all.
The pain. The agony.
The reality that my mother is gone and it’s all my fault.
All her fault.
“Welcome to the club, Perez.” A familiar voice comes from the door before the music changes to a Ramones classic.
I don’t have to look his way to know who it is. “You invited King?” I ask Isaac.
He shrugs, confirming it. “I’ve grieved over a dead girlfriend, but if anyone knows what it’s like to lose parents, it’s him.”
“Wouldn’t be back in this fucked up town otherwise.” He collapses into the leather seat next to Isaac, wearing his classic attire. Plain tee, skinny denim and black boots. A joint hangs off his lip as he kicks his foot on the silver coffee table. Pointing a finger at Isaac, his eyes narrow, passing me his joint. “And if you keep calling that cunt your girlfriend I’ll keep kicking your ass.”
As fucked up as it is, that makes me laugh, especially when I take a hit of King’s joint. Coughing out a huge puff of smoke I look back at it, “The fuck is this shit?”
“Death Star. Canadian.” King looks between us. “And with the way your jaws move, you two need it.”
Doing another line, I show King I don’t give a fuck. I’m not used to being the highest guy in the room, especially not between these two, but after losing my mom, and after ending things with Ray, this is all I want. All I need.
King sighs, reaching in the middle of the drug-littered table to uncork a fresh bottle. “Sorry about your mom, Perez.” He pours the scotch into an empty crystal glass on the tray. “Didn’t know your girl was Madame Saint Clair. That’s fucked up.”
“The fuck is Madame Saint Clair?” Isaac asks. "Is she hot?"
“More like dead. The famous gangster girl from Harlem?” King clarifies. “Early twentieth century? Prohibition?” He scoffs, pulling his glass to his lips. “Hard to believe I'm the drop-out here."
Isaac chuckles, not thrown by King’s attitude. “Man, you know we’re just at ERU for the pussy.”
King swings his gaze at me, muttering over the rim of his glass. “His stepsister’s pussy.”
Isaac throws his leather loafer at his head and that makes me laugh some more. I won’t admit it but it means a lot that these guys are here. A mess, but they're here.
“Three deaths between us,” Isaac sighs. “Fuck calling us Kings, they should call us the Grim Reapers. King Reapers.”
“That your new gang name, Perez?” King asks. “Considering you killed a guy and all. Welcome to the other club."
My eyes narrow at Isaac, skin heating at the memory. “What else you tell him, Johnson?”
King smirks. “That you got yourself into all this mess over a girl. Rayne Rose at that. You know I didn’t take her to be such a wild card.” Tipping the glass to his lips, he looks at me over the rim. “Kinda hot.”
“Don’t worry,” I reassure them both, pushing that day out of my mind. Pushing her out of my mind. “She’s a girl I don’t give a fuck about.” Even if that patter in my heart says different. Rayne is nothing but trouble. I always knew that.
King chuckles. “You didn’t get yourself in all this mess because you don’t care. Believe me. I know.”
“Ain’t that the truth.” Isaac racks up another fat line. “If I never fucked around with Marion, I’d never have that grief still sitting in my heart.”
“Oh no, Johnson, that’s guilt for fucking my aunt twice your age,” King corrects.
“What was I supposed to do?” Isaac protests. “Ignore my desires? You and Jo are the definition of toxic and you guys worked out.”
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Isaac looks at the door. King cocks a brow.
I smirk. If drugs and alcohol can’t help keep everything off my mind, there’s one other thing that can.
When Johnson opens the door, Natasha stands there in something that tells me she’s definitely down to fuck. A skimpy little red dress, her ass damn near hanging out. It doesn’t turn me on as much as Ray but things’ll get going once my cock's in her mouth.
“Well, aren’t you a brave little thing?” Isaac greets. “This another one of your surprises, King?”
I clear my throat. “Uh, can you gentlemen give us the room?”
When she looks at me she smiles. I don’t.
“How long you need, like, five minutes?” Johnson teases. He’s not at all interested in Natasha because I’m pretty sure we’ve all streamed down that canal before.
King stays seated, his eyes narrowing into mine. “Rayne doesn’t look like the type that’ll like you locked in a hotel room with Slut Barbie.”
“I know,” I say, beckoning Tash with a crook of my finger. I need to cut Ray off. I need her out of my head. In what world does the girl responsible for getting your mom killed stay rent-free in your mind? Naked. “That’s exactly why I’m doing this.”
Twenty-Six
Rayne
Staring at the photo on my phone makes me feel as sick as it did the first time.
King sent this to me a couple of days ago and while I know Natasha is a basic bitch, it still makes my stomach roll.
Not as bad as seeing Christian’s mom splayed on the floor.
Not as bad as when he said he never wants to see me again.
Flopping back on the dusty old mattress, I stare at the stained ceiling before my phone lights up in my hand.
A pang hits my chest, the way it always does when there’s a notification. I always expect it to be him.
Dad: Bringing you some soup from Anita’s.
But again, it’s not.
I’ve been “sick” for the past five days. Dad thinks it’s a stomach virus but he’d reel if he knew the real reason I’ve been avoiding the outdoors.
Ace.
Christian.
Death.
Heartbreak.
Until I can figure out what to do, staying out of everyone’s way is my safest bet.
While August is making himself scarce too, his buddies still hang out in the garage. At least it’s a little protection, especially knowing they have the Spade’s weaponry.
That reminds me that Ace likely thinks I have something to do with it. I thought August was smart enough to take something small like I did but the motherfucker’s even prettier than I am. If August cared enough to protect me instead of his own fucking emotions, there’d be one less person dead right now.
Scrolling through my phone, I’m looking for a distraction but burying my feelings doesn’t help. Christian comes into my mind way too easily. Especially since he’s the one to give me the very phone I’m on. If it’s not a tabloid post about the loss of his mother, or his dad going off the rails again, it’s something else. The Bruins. Hockey. Emeralds. Green. Fuck, even my dad’s equipment reminds me of him.
Staying in this room for as long as I have might be a bad idea.
Pulling a hoodie over my messy hair, my gr
own-out bangs, I can smell my pits when I do. It’s been three days since I’ve showered. Eight since I’ve slept. I fit into this town now more than I ever have.
Owl lifts his chin when I leave the front door. Not sure if that’s a ‘hello’ or an acknowledgment of my existence, but I give him a tight smile before taking a walk down the street.
I’m not stupid, I know not to go too far away from the house, but the air feels good on my skin. At the end of the street, I take a deep breath, the crisp air entering my nose.
Christian has the right idea. To stay away.
I’ve only been back for a couple of months and I’ve already created enough drama for a telenovela. Killed a man. Saw the death of his mom.
This shit is too much to come back from.
He’s right. We’re better off apart.
So why does my chest feel like there’s a big gaping hole in it?
After a quick lap around the block, the garage looks more full than when I left it. August’s bike sits in the driveway and my jaw clenches. He’s as responsible for the blood on the Perez floor as I am.
My eyes land on something familiar in a pile of stuff in front of the garage.
My notebook. Mom’s backpack. Christian’s t-shirt.
Matter of fact, it looks like all my stuff is piled up and ready to go. “The fuck?” I mutter. When I approach, August has a shit-eating grin on his face before I can even say anything. “What the fuck is this?” I demand.
“Been seeing your face all over the news," August says, arms crossed. "Photos of you and Pretty Boy at fancy NHL events. Since you’re getting pretty close, you don’t belong here anymore. So why don’t you go back across the tracks if you want their life so bad?”
“Fuck you, August!” I’m so tired of his shit. He’s supposed to be my older brother. Someone I can look up to, but all I want to do is punch him in the face. “You’re so fucking petty you got his mom killed!” His brows furrow so I lay in. “Yeah, that’s right. You failed to have my back so guess who showed up guns blazing? Not Crow! Not the big shot in town you think you are, huh?"
August isn’t the only reason I’m mad. There are so many things fluttering in my head.
“Bullshit, Ray," he laughs. It only makes me clench my fists. “You got yourself into this.”
A growl comes out of me before my hands come to his chest. He’s way too bulky to have me push him but it feels good pounding on it. Taking my anger out. “Fuck you! We’re family!”
He holds my wrist in his, stopping my attack. “You betrayed me long before I betrayed you, sis.”
“Hey! Hey!” Dad comes between us before I even realize his headlights shining in the driveway. “Cut this out! What is going on with you two?” He looks between us, completely baffled.
“He’s mad I’m dating someone who’s nothing like him.” Was. Was dating, but seeing his eyes narrow makes me feel better.
“All this about Perez?” Dad looks at August. “I understand your apprehension, August, but Perez is a good boy. He’s proven that. He’s doing better than …” He gestures behind him and Gull just lifts a beer. “Than whatever you’ve been doing with your life.”
August lets out a loud laugh. “A good boy?” He claps. “That … that’s rich. Ask little Rayne-Bow the real reason she’s dating him and you’ll be fucking surprised to know it’s not money.”
“August," I warn, teeth clenched.
“I’ll fill you in.” A grin spreads across my brother's stupid face.
When I lunge for him, my dad pushes me back. “Rayne!”
“She was dealing drugs and he caught her,” August hardly hesitates. He had this gun loaded and he happily pulled the trigger.
Dad looks at me as my eyes blur. “Rayne is that true?”
“Like it wasn’t the drugs you stole from Eden.” My body shakes, trying to step in his face again but Dad keeps me back.
August continues, “And know what Perez thought? He thought hey, Coach hates me, so I'm gonna date his fucking daughter. All so I don’t have to take responsibility for my shit, but not only that, I’m gonna blackmail the poor girl with a poor family so she thinks she has no way out of it. And she’ll be too stupid to see otherwise.”
My dad looks at me. With that look. The same one he gives August. The same one he gives his team when they let him down. And I know I’ve done just that.
Let him down.
Let my brother down.
I let Christian down too.
Letting people down comes naturally apparently.
“Ray, is that true?” Dad finally asks. “And August, you stole drugs from Eden Gardens? What the hell is wrong with you? You two have some explaining to do and I need to hear it. Now.”
As if the tears streaming down my face didn’t solidify it. I nod. Owning up to my shit. “Yeah, okay, that happened. But Christian and I turned into so much—”
My dad holds a hand up, cutting me off. “I—I can’t deal with this right now.” He shakes his head like he’s lost in thought before he heads for the door.
“Dad!” August and I both call out.
The door slams.
“Need a box?” August tilts his head to the pile of clothes and in what world does my drug-dealing brother get to stay in the house and I don’t?
“Fuck you, August.” Turning on my heels I don’t let him see the tears streaming down my face. “Fuck you straight to hell.”
Pulling out my phone, I text one of the only people I can.
Rayne: Hey, u around?
As I storm down the street, August’s laugh taunts me in the background but the reply doesn’t take too long.
Lexi: At Bianca’s funeral. Are you coming? Christian looks like shit. He could use you.
Staring at her text, I’m a mix of emotions. Would being there really make it better?
Looking back at the house, my shoulders drop, my nose burns. I rather stay with her than stay in my house with a psychotic brother and depressed dad another night.
Rayne: If I come, I’ll need a place to stay. Can I stay with u?
Lexi: Of course! See you soon. :) xoxo
Is going to Christian’s mom’s funeral the best decision I can make right now?
No. But it’s also not the worst.
With my hoodie on and a grip on my knife, I head towards the tracks.
Christian
Of all the news I could get today, this is far from what I expect.
“I’m sorry to do this, Christian, but I can’t have someone with your morals and your behaviour on the team.”
It’s Coach. I don’t even have to ask what he’s talking about.
I imagine this is Ray getting her retaliation but there’s no way she spilled what happened without outing herself.
I start to wonder how she’s dealing with it all, something I orchestrated, but I refuse to think about her anymore. Every time I do, it feels like I can't breathe. Thinking about Rayne comes with nothing but pain.
With a photo of my mom staring at me in her foyer, it’s hard to come up with a proper response. So all I can say is, “Whatever.”
Straightening my black tie, I look around the room. All the right people. All the right things. Pink and purple camellias decorate the space and that only reminds me of the tattoo decorating Ray’s arm.
Fuck Rayne.
Inviting Tash to the hotel was a mistake. Couldn’t even get it up. She’s like a virus I can’t get out of my system.
My mom’s dead. Her family blames me for her death and still, she’s on my fucking mind. I’m pathetic. Especially when it’s all her fault.
Walking through the room, I keep an eye out for Dad. Didn’t see him this morning. Don’t see him now and that alone is enough for me to grab another glass of port, my mom’s favourite.
“Christian.” A curly-haired woman in a red dress approaches me and I need security to be tighter. “My condolences.”
“Violet. If that were true, you wouldn’t be here.” With a long glug, I turn aw
ay but she follows. “I guess with all the shit you write on us, you might as well be family.”
My eyes land on a woman in a plain black dress. Her glare alone is enough to tell me she’s from Mom’s side of the family. In a room full of diamonds and designer duds, she stands out as badly as Rayne does in a dress that looks like it’s from an outlet.
Taking another glug, my grip tightens on the glass.
Fuck Rayne.
“This must be extra hard on you.” Violet Graham reminds me she’s still there and that makes my muscles tense. “Especially when everyone thinks you have something to do with your mother’s murder.”
My jaw tightens and I need to bite my tongue.
We buried my mom this morning and sports journalists are already fishing for an angle. I’m tempted to tell Violet to shove her question up her ass but that won’t look good in print.
“We all know the gangs in The Grove will stop at nothing for an extra dollar.” I turn to her when I speak. “This was nothing but a show of cowardice to get a pretty penny. Put that in your article, Violet.”
She smirks. “Speaking of The Grove, Rayne Rose, your current girlfriend … if you’re not involved with this, does that mean she is?”
My jaw tightens at the mention of her name. I can’t fucking get away from it. And what the fuck did she mean by “current”? She enunciates that like what Ray and I had was anything but real.
“Perez.” Novak interrupts and I’ve never been more grateful for my dad’s former teammate than I am now. He glances at Violet with a knowing look and part of me thinks he knows he’s saving my life. “My condolences. Are you busy?”
Looking at Violet I nod. “Excuse me.”
Novak pulls me aside, his fitted black designer suit making him fit in with Eden royalty. “I know this is hard for you,” he says, his Czech accent thick. “But you are doing great.”
That’s not as reassuring as he thinks. With my dad and my sister out of sight, I’ve been manning this thing on my own. Allie made it to the funeral, but with as many times as she excused herself to stand outside with her girlfriend, she might as well have stayed in New York.