by Nikki Wild
After that, it was pure, simple, golden victory. Shark and I, we sat back and watched. I have a terrible confession about the whole thing, though. My brother took a hit or two before Shark’s boys got into the fray, and I didn’t feel too bad about it. Served him right. I get that the withdrawals were beating him up already, but it never hurts to have a little additional negative reinforcement.
Sal was no real threat. He was known around the county as a two-bit dealer, and his two-bit crew were nothing compared to Shark’s boys. They had them down on the ground in a minute flat and nobody had to pull a gun. Nice and tidy. When Sal himself was on his knees, I nodded to Shark and got out of the car. Activity paused as I strode up to the scene; Trick was huddling on the ground, hands over his head, a nasty welt already rising around his eye. I came to a stop right in front of Sal, and took a squat.
“Hey,” I said. “I hear you think my brother owes you money?”
Sal was a big guy, but it was mostly fluff. He looked like a big cream-filled donut. Pale blonde hair and red cheeks and a nose built for smushing. He scowled at me through a cut lip and nodded.
“I’m gonna let you live to see tomorrow, and you’re gonna forget that debt ever existed,” I said. “Alright?”
“Fuckin’ assfuck fuckwad fucker!”
“Okay,” I said. “I can see you’re angry, but you need to listen close. I know where you live. I know the corners your little crew runs. Anything happens to me or my brother, and these boys here are gonna end you. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”
“Fuck you!”
“Put a thesaurus on your letter to Santa this year,” I said and reached out, patting his chubby cheek. He recoiled, then tried to bite my hand.
“Seems like I’m not getting through do you,” I said with a bit more meance in my voice. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. It was the last of what Misty could pull together. I threw it down at Sal’s feet.
“That’s three large.”
“He owes me ten,” Sal spit.
I reached down again, tilting his chin up toward me.
“Three grand makes you whole on your cut-up product. You’ll take this money and forget this debt, or maybe I can find a cheaper solution. Do you know what a fucking bullet costs?”
He was quiet for a couple seconds, but the sound of Shark working the slide on his Glock 19 was enough to get him talking about.
“Fine. We call it even,” Sal finally said, a tinge of fear starting to finally show itself in his voice. “But you keep that tweaker brother away from me. If I ever see him buying product on my side of town, it’ll be the last time.”
I laughed, and it felt good to laugh right in his face. But my work was done, and I wanted out. I wanted this to be done with. I did my part for my brother’s safety. No one could ever say I didn’t.
I rose and snapped my fingers at Trick. He looked dazed, but he followed me at a brisk trot until we were back at the car. Shark’s boys cleaned up their mess - as in, they kicked Sal and his men back towards their own car before heading to the van parked behind the Church’s. We let them leave first, then put that parking lot behind us.
“Thanks again, Shark,” I said. And I meant it.
“No problem,” he said. “Tu familia es mi familia.”
I saw Shark lean in to look in the rearview mirror. He gave Trick a long, open look.
“But I ain’t doing this shit for him again,” he finally said. I looked back at my brother. He looked like death warmed over. My heart did a little bit of lurching.
“Yeah,” I said. “Alright, Shark. Alright.”
We didn’t talk for the rest of the drive to Shark’s personal car. I didn’t feel right bringing up my almost-accusations, not after he basically saved my brothers’ life. But they were there between us, anyway. Pulling up to the car, Shark unbuckled his belt and turned all the way in his seat so he could face me fully.
“You keep her safe, alright?” he said, voice low and eyes steady.
“Yeah,” I said, jaw clicking as it clenched. I wasn’t the one putting her in danger by keeping secrets. But I was sure as shit gonna keep her safe. Shark regarded me for a while more, nodded, and that was that. He drove towards Sorghum Bend, Trick got into the passenger seat, and we made for the safe house. We didn’t talk, either. What was there to say?
We weren’t much good as brothers, it’s true.
But at the end of the day, the word itself meant something. And I had Misty to thank for reminding me of that.
And I had some ideas on how I might thank her.
Chapter 24
Misty
I wasn’t waiting at the window so that I could watch for them. It just happened to be a nice day to sit at the window and read. Purrloin curled on my lap, purring. She was transitioning remarkably well to these new surroundings. Better than me. I missed my home. Things being where I’d put them. Things I’d chosen to surround myself with. They were all just things, of course. But they were my things. I missed them.
This was my first time being alone in the house. Before I settled down at the window, I roamed the halls and rooms, trailing my finger along dusty shelves, looking for signs of Rev’s childhood. There weren’t many; the house was decorated in a hodgepodge of styles, as though, like my adopted wardrobe, twenty different people had contributed to the final effect. And none of those people seemed to have been particularly attached to the Daly brothers, because there were almost no childhood knickknacks or pictures or photos or anything.
My father’s house was a shrine to my younger years. It was cute and annoying at the same time. He kept all my crayon drawings, the walls were littered with school photos, every clay ashtray and poorly-sewn finger puppet stored in some corner or another. He even kept the fairy house we built in a hole in an old tree.
That was something I never stopped appreciating though; I could have done without the finger-painted butterflies, but the fairy house was my favorite. A pizza-box triangle was the table. Thimbles made chairs around it. A tiny cow sat beside the table, and a miniature bear twice the size of the cow stood overlooking the scene. My father and I collected dozens of tiny things and spent hours planning it out, discarding objects after serious discussions about their efficacy in attracting fairies. When he came home with the tea set - no bigger than his pinkie, I literally screamed.
And through season after season, year after year, those little totems stayed nestled in the safety of the tree. My father created a squirrel barrier out of chicken wire and a latch. For all I knew, it was still there.
I guess boys wouldn’t have such tender or charming childhood mementos to display. But there should have been something. A low, hollow sadness filled my heart when I thought about it, so eventually I stopped looking and settled down to not-wait.
Nothing had changed since Rev and I acted on our baser instincts, three days before.
Except, perhaps, the stress between us had evaporated. We were nowhere near being out of the woods, but we might as well have stopped to pick berries and frolic with the little woodland critters.
Three days of crazy, non-stop sex will do that to you. Every time I thought for sure that I’d driven him into a post-sex coma, he rolled me over and proved me wrong. He’d grab my wrists, hold me down, and lick me into a fever until he was ready for round two… or three…
There wasn’t a room in the two-story house that went untouched by our parade of orgasms. He’d taken me in the shower, bent over the kitchen sink, in every bed. Even the living room wasn’t safe. Trick took a ride down to the gas station for cigarettes and Rev has me pushed up against the bookshelf before he’d even started his bike. He lifted me up against his chest and fucked me until the books came raining down on us.
Trick didn’t seem to care that his brother was hosting a non-stop sexfest in their childhood hideout. He certainly wasn’t pining for any quality time with Rev. They barely spoke. Trick was going through the worst of his withdrawals, spending most of his time hiding u
p in his room. I normally would have felt self-conscious about the whole thing, but I was too damn loved-up to care.
I’d never been crazy for a man, period. Rev made me feel like I should be committed. He couldn’t walk past me, smelling like he did, without my body heating up. He’d come up behind me, lift his hands like birds, and let his fingers barely graze my neck. Seconds later, I’d be kissing him like the first time and last time, wrapping my legs around his waist and pushing him onto the bed.
We were having sex like it was our last days on Earth…
That morning, before he left, it had been different.
Rolling over, I’d found him at my side, as usual. But he was awake, and it seemed like he had been for some time. He was leaning up on an elbow, looking down at me. I licked my lips, blinked my way into the morning, and hummed.
“What?” I asked, rolling closer, trying to melt into his heat. “What’re you looking at?”
“The light,” he said. “From the window.”
Confused, I looked over my shoulder. Yup. There was a window, alright. And there was light, too. It all checked out. I turned back to him, one eyebrow raised.
“Nothing,” he grinned. “It just looked pretty on you.”
Something in my chest winced, folded, and felt like it was melting. I bit my lip, torn between wanting to keep the moment like it was, pure and sweet and simple, and ending it. Because pure and sweet and simple as it was, it was also uncomfortable. It was one thing to fuck like animals. It was another thing entirely to like each other while we did it. I didn’t need the complication of liking Rev.
Just trusting him was enough of a struggle.
“C’mon,” I’d finally said, adding a fake giggle. “Don’t.”
It was all I needed to say. He knew.
“Okay,” he said, and promptly rolled over on top of me, spreading my naked thighs with his knees. “I won’t.”
He entered me quickly, groaning, swallowing my gasp with his lips. Everything burned beautifully. I lifted my hips for him. Took him deeper. Closed my eyes. Let him take me, asked him to, begged him to. Ignored the little piece of my heart that couldn’t stop thinking of his eyes when he looked at me in the light. That told me I couldn’t stop it, no matter how hard I tried.
I was going to end up loving this man, whether I wanted to or not.
And love, my daddy used to tell me, was the kind of thing that ended up getting people killed.
Chapter 25
Misty
I had to push all this away, my mind drifting to dangerous places as I sat by the window. Dusk and hunger were both setting in. I went to the kitchen, thinking that I’d have dinner ready whenever they got back. How domestic of me.
The pasta still had five minutes to cook when I heard car doors slamming outside. Panic came first; it might not be Rev and Trick. It might be them. Whoever was after me. I could hear voices, and even through the walls I recognized Rev’s. And damn if there wasn’t a little flutter in my stomach when I did. I went to the front door, but something compelled me not to open it yet. Instead, I looked out the long, thin window that ran parallel to the door. Purrloin snaked herself around my legs. She was probably hungry, too.
Outside, Rev and his brother stood face-to-face. Trick pointed to his bike. Rev didn’t say anything. Trick’s mouth moved, but the words were too muffled for me to hear. Rev nodded, said something, and looked at the house. My heart jolted and I sprang back from the window. I told myself I wasn’t spying, since they were just standing outside and it wasn’t exactly the most private of places.
I was wondering what was so interesting they decided to discuss it in the growing darkness. Trick’s hands moved in a gesture I couldn’t read. Rev kicked a clod of dirt from the ground, nodding along. And then Trick stuck his hand out. Rev looked at it for a minute, took it, and then yanked his brother into an awkward, one-armed hug. They parted quickly and Rev turned around, heading towards the front door. I pranced away from it, nearly tripping over Purrloin’s slinking body. I made it into the kitchen before he opened the door. A second later, I heard a motorcycle start.
“Hey,” Rev’s voice filled the kitchen. I tried very hard to pretend like I hadn’t seen what I’d just seen. I stood at the stove, stirring the pasta with shaking hands and a rapidly beating heart.
“Hey,” I said, not trusting myself to turn around yet. “How’d it go?”
“Fine. I don’t think it’ll be a problem anymore. He’s through the worst of it.”
“Good,” I said. And finally looked over my shoulder. I wanted to ask were Trick was. But would I be asking that if I hadn’t just seen them say goodbye?
“I heard Trick’s bike,” I said, feeling that was safe. Rev gave me a crooked grin.
“Yeah, and you saw the only moment of brotherly love we’ve shared since I was 14,” he said. My cheeks flamed up.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know what you were doing out there and…”
“It’s fine,” Rev said.
I busied myself with draining the pasta, waiting for him to fill me in with the details. He didn’t seem very eager to do so.
“So, he’s gone?’ I replied, finally, stepping away from the rising steam. “What about his stuff? Where’s he going?”
“What stuff?” Rev said, gesturing to the door leading from the kitchen to the living room. I glanced at Trick’s couch-bed, and saw what Rev meant. He really didn’t have anything worth taking. Just sweat-stained shirts and one pair of dirty jeans.
“Right,” I said. “Where’s he going, though?”
“I don’t know.”
Rev didn’t elaborate further. He just stared at a wall like I wasn’t even in the room. I didn’t really understand. A few days ago he was ready to kick his brother out on his ass, and now he was acting like he’d just been punched in the gut…
“Well, I’m glad it worked out for him,” I offered. Whatever was said between them, whatever happened, whatever was still happening in Rev’s cold and unknowable heart…it was none of my business. If he ever wanted to share it, he could. But I wasn’t going to press him. “Hungry?”
“No,” Rev replied quietly. He was upset about his brother. That was all. Right? That’s what I kept telling myself. And what did I care if he was acting weird?
But he hadn’t touched me yet. That, more than anything, felt wrong. Rev could barely enter a room I was in without making some kind of physical contact. Now, he couldn’t even look at me. And he didn’t even want to help his brother in the first place, so what was so bad about Trick leaving?
“Is something wrong?” I asked, hating myself for asking it. That was the kind of question girlfriends ask. One minute I was vowing not to press him, the next minute I was offering a shoulder he didn’t want to cry on.
“I solved one problem, but I’m in deep shit. Still gotta deal with you.”
I knew what he meant. Trust me, I knew. But nothing could stop me from taking it the wrong way, and making a big deal about it. Sometimes you beat the stereotype, and sometimes the stereotype beats you.
“What does that mean? Since when am I something to deal with?”
“Don’t give me that,” he snapped. “You know what I meant.”
Yes, yes I did. If he’d left it at that, things might have gone differently.
“But to answer your question, you’ve been something to deal with ever since you signed your name on the visitor’s chart at Guvcheck, and dumped Daddy’s little nightmare on my lap.”
The pasta was getting cold in the colander. If I picked it up, the heat of my anger would fix that problem. He looked me right in the eye, daring me to take his bait. I didn’t know why he wanted to fight me. I didn’t know what I’d done wrong. But I did know that I wasn’t taking it. Not from him. Not now. Not ever.
“All I ever asked you to do was talk to me,” I seethed. “It was your idea to get involved. And you know what? If you don’t want to deal with it anymore, then don’t. I can take care of myself
.”
“If you could take care of yourself, you wouldn’t be standing in my kitchen wearing clothes I gave you. If you could take care of yourself, I wouldn’t have a bullet wound on my bicep. Take care of yourself? You can’t even take care of a cat. If it weren’t for me, that furball of yours would be shitting in the great big litterbox in the sky.”
Oh no.
“Keys,” I said. “Give me the keys.”
“Where are you gonna go? Back to the Bend? They’ll have you buried in an hour.”
“Keys, Rev.”
He got up, slamming his fist on the table. The way he was looking at me, it was like I’d stabbed him. That angry, painful rage you feel when someone you trust betrays you. But I never betrayed his macho ass. So what the fuck was happening?
“I promised a lot of people I’d keep you safe,” he growled. “I plan on keeping my promise. But I’m done playing house with you. It was fun for a while, dollface. You’re one hell of a distraction. But let’s face it. You only need me until this is over, and I don’t need you at all. Once we fix this mess you’re in, you go right and I go left. From now until then, we’re going back to the way it should be. Understand?”
No, I didn’t get it. I didn’t care how torn up Rev was over his brother. His brother might be dead if I hadn’t convinced him to help. Whatever was bothering him, whatever hell was happening in his brain, he wasn’t going to take it out on me.
“In that case, you’re fucking fired,” I said. “Give me the keys so we can end this.”
I wasn’t going to cry. I didn’t want to cry. But shit, I was going to cry. Fat, hot, angry tears. Tears of rage, followed by tears of shame, because I let him see me cry. He watched me, shaking, with my hand out, every ounce of anger in my heart reflected on his face. One salty drop made its way down my cheek.
And like watching a train crash, I watched something inside him shatter. I can’t tell you what it was like. You have to see something like it yourself. There aren’t words for this sort of thing.