Charity For Nothing: The Virtues Book III

by A. J. Downey

  We had a low key dinner on the back patio of Cutter’s house, the three of us and their two men and I honestly called it a night early. The sunlight still peeking over the horizon despite the fact the sun had gone. I showered and dried my hair, taking the time to straighten it before going to bed. I clicked off the bedside light to the low rumble of thunder in the distance, sighing out into the night.

  A long day, but a good one…

  ***

  An exasperated sigh, “Son of a bitch,” a masculine voice, the words slurred around the edges. I sat up and listened to the rattle of glass and metal, somewhere close, right beside the bed.

  A flash of blue light illuminated a crown of dark hair, lank with the rainwater that lashed the window.

  “Nothing?” I asked softly and he looked up, in my direction, squinting in the dark. Thunder boomed and I jumped with a little girly yip, slapping my hand over my mouth. I reached over and clicked on the light. He put a hand up to shield his eyes and I took in the scene in front of me.

  The drawer on the bedside table was open in front of me, my pictures in their broken frames in a neat pile on the floor. Nothing sat cross legged in the middle of the cream carpet, a plastic grocery sack open next to him. He was fumbling with the back of a new frame, trying to slide the little clips aside and open the back.

  “Nothing, what are you doing?” I asked softly and pulled back the blankets, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed.

  “I broke it, I need to fix it,” he mumbled, or some iteration thereof. I knelt down beside him and could smell the alcohol.

  “Please tell me you didn’t drive here…”

  “Bike’s broke, Marlin has my cage, so I walked.” At least that was clear enough.

  “Can I help you?” I asked softly, putting my hands lightly over his, stilling his fumbling.

  He looked at me, his soft gray eyes meeting mine, filled with such sorrow, such pain, and he uttered clearly, “No one can help me.”

  It hit me in the center of the chest, and if it’d been a physical blow, it would have knocked the air clean out of me. I sighed out gently and tried my best to smile under the weight of his sadness.

  “Can I try?”

  He let me take the frames from his hands, one drifting up and cupping the side of my neck, thumb grazing gently along my jaw. He made eye contact with me and his eyes held so much.

  “Those eyes get me every time,” he murmured. “Can’t stop thinking about them. Like shadows on ice, not like hers, but the same. The same deal, same effect, you know?”

  “I don’t, I’m sorry,” his hand dropped away and he squeezed his eyes shut, pressing the heels of his hands deep into the sockets.

  “Hey, here, don’t do that. You were going to help me, remember?” I drew his hands away from his face with mine and he stared at them, my hands in his, his hands in mine.

  “I broke them, I fix them.”

  I smiled, “You don’t have to.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Okay, okay then; let me help you.”

  We sat on the floor of the bedroom, in the close, golden glow of the lamplight, the rain thrashing outside and re-framed my pictures. He’d chosen simple black frames and I liked them. I was never a fan of overly fancy things, preferring a less was more approach most of the time.

  “There, all fixed,” I said solemnly.

  Nothing nodded and I was almost afraid of just how inebriated he was. He staggered to his feet and I rose with him.

  “I broke them,” he said and the pain was raw on his face.

  “You fixed them,” I said and smiled and he looked down at the pictures in my hand. He shook his head back and forth.

  “I broke them, and you can’t fix people when they’re broken that badly,” he said cryptically.

  “Nothing, what do you mean?” I asked, a knot of fear taking up residence in the center of my chest.

  “What is it about you? Why are you different?” he asked abruptly.

  I was taken aback, “I… I don’t know.” We stood for several long drawn out moments, him blinking owlishly at me through his haze of drunk.

  “Sleep good, Charity,” he said abruptly and hooked a hand behind my head, I stiffened but he leaned forward when I wouldn’t bend and pressed a kiss to the top of my head, his hand a steel band around the back of my neck. Not hurting, just firm.

  “Nothing,” I started but he was gone, my bedroom door swinging wide. I stood, frozen and a moment later the front door gently opened, the roar of the beating rain growing louder before growing muffled again. I went to the window and watched Nothing stagger down the driveway and felt powerless.

  I wanted to do something to heal that raw, naked, hurt in his eyes but I didn’t know how. I wanted to stop him from leaving, but I didn’t know how to do that either.

  I looked down at the photo of my two sisters and my mom, smiling on the distant California shore, the Pacific behind us and wanted so badly to fix some of Nothing’s broken. I think I decided that I would do just that, I just needed to figure out how.

  Chapter 6

  Nothing

  The pounding in my head was made way heavier than it needed to be by the pounding on my front door.

  “Nothing!” someone shouted, “C’mon man, it’s almost noon! Open the fuckin’ door!”

  I rolled off my couch onto all fours and shook my head before pushing up onto my feet. I staggered for the front door and shouted, “Alright; alright, alright!” in a vain attempt to get the fucking renewed pounding to stop.

  I threw open the door and squinted into the blinding light, throwing up a hand to ward off the bright.

  “Jesus Christ, man. What the fuck?” Marlin pushed past me and into my entry way.

  “The fuck do you want?” I mumbled.

  “Some respect for one, I ain’t fuckin’ Radar, I’m your VP,” Marlin glowered at me and shoved me into the wall. I slid down it onto my ass and put my head into my hands.

  “Sorry,” I grumbled.

  “Yeah, well, you gotta get up. We gotta start battening down the hatches. Storm switched track, it’s comin’ this way and should make landfall in five to seven days. We’re operating on the whole ‘five’ to be safe. Some of the boys and me are here to help board your house first since you never leave it.”

  “Shouldn’t you be yanking your boats out of the water?”

  “Captain has that arranged, the Scarlett Ann’s in his hands. I agreed to take land based action. Supplies, that sort of thing.”

  “Why you starting here, again?”

  “Because I fuckin’ said so, now get your hungover ass up off the floor and let’s do this.” He kicked my booted foot which rattled all the way up into my brainpan and I suppressed a groan.

  “Fuckin’ great,” I grumbled, but I hauled my ass up.

  “Girls are spending time together, so I want to get this done before they are so I can be there with my girl.”

  “Fuck man, Charity’s been here a whole day and we’re getting ready for a hurricane? Welcome to Florida,” I groused. Marlin gave me a bizarre look, like I was out of my fucking mind.

  “What?” I demanded.

  “You been in here pickling your fuckin’ self,” he shook his head, “Get in the fucking shower.”

  “What?” I demanded again, frowning, and he gave me a shove in the direction of my bedroom.

  “Charity’s been here more ‘n two fuckin’ days, bro. You’ve just been too fuckin’ drunk to notice or answer your fuckin’ phone. What gives, brother?”

  More than two days?

  “Nothin’, I’ll get changed.”

  “Shower!” Marlin practically bellowed at my back and I raised a hand, waving him off back over my shoulder. I ached from head to toe and no wonder, after a however many day fucking bender.

  I stayed under the spray until the water started to run cold before I got out, and when I did, it was to tapping and banging out front and the rattle and clink of bottles and cans in my kitchen. I
threw on some jeans and a faded tee shirt and stepped into the main living area, rubbing a towel over my hair.

  “Man, you didn’t fuckin’ drive like this did you?” Trike asked from my kitchen and I simply stopped and stared at him. He stared back at me until the light went off behind his eyes and he said, “Ah! Yeah, sorry man…”

  “Couldn’t fuckin’ drive anyways if I wanted to. Marlin has my fuckin’ car and my keys.”

  “Good thing, too. Still don’t know how the hell you got into the Captain’s house.”

  “What?” I asked, blinking at him blearily.

  “Charity said she woke up to your drunk ass fixing her picture frames, told her sister, Hope about it. We aren’t supposed to know, but Hope is more ‘n a little pissed about it.”

  “You serious?” I asked. I didn’t remember doing it.

  “When she heard I was heading over she said to give you this, she’s acting like nothin’s weird like she’s afraid we’d whoop your ass for being both a creep and a dumbass and she’s not wrong. If it wouldn’t get Hope busted we probably would go toe to toe. Man, what the fuck were you thinking!?” he held out a wad of bills to me and I frowned.

  “I wasn’t, I was drunk as fuck and don’t remember a fuckin’ thing about it; I swear it. What’s that for?” I asked jerking my chin in the direction of the bills in his hand and immediately regretting the decision to do so.

  “The bedding and the replacement frames, she insisted.”

  “Fuck that, I get the frames but how’d she know about the rest?” I looked at Trike, “I told you not to say shit, man!”

  “I didn’t!” he exclaimed and Marlin, who’d come in from outside, smirked.

  “You’re the only Dominic Shepard the fuckin’ club’s got. Next time, take the receipt with you. The girl’s smarter ‘n Hope. Captain’s already named her ‘Trouble.’” Marlin took the money from Trike and stuffed it in the front pocket on my tee shirt; I glowered at him.

  “I need fucking coffee for this shit,” I grumbled.

  “You need a hell of a lot more than that.”

  I scrubbed my face and groaned, “Okay fine, tell me, tell me what I need oh great one,” I bit sarcastically in his direction.

  “Well, since you asked oh so nice, for one, you need to admit Char’s struck a chord with you somehow.”

  “She hasn’t,” I denied.

  “Right, that’s why you’re fuckin’ putting away her crap and buying her things like a Grade A number one stalker head case.”

  “Dude, I was drunk as fuck, I don’t remember –“

  “Exactly my point,” he cut me off, “You know what they say about drunks and the truth.”

  I shut my damn mouth. Marlin sighed, “I think I’ve picked on you enough for one day, brother. Let’s get your house buttoned up, get your supplies, and get on over to Hossler’s next.”

  “She weathering the storm at her place?” I asked a little surprised.

  “Her power goes out, she says she bags up all them snakes and sleeps with ‘em to keep ‘em warm.”

  “Oh, fuck that shit! You serious?” Trike asked dropping an empty bottle into the garbage sack he was quickly filling, wandering around my kitchen.

  “You got a better incubator idea?” I asked.

  “That’s fucked up,” he said and looked a little green. He hefted a full garbage sack over his shoulder and went out the front door. The window above the kitchen sink went dark as a thick ass chunk of plywood went over it.

  “Today, Nothing… we want to get the houses kitted out as fast as possible, you know once it comes to the bigger boats coming out of the water it’s gonna be all hands on deck.”

  “Yeah, man, sorry, let me get my boots on…”

  We spent the better part of the day both cleaning and boarding up my place only to head out and do it all again over at Hossler’s. The Captain’s house is typically where everyone weathered the bad storms, but his place was easy. He had state of the art rolling storm shutters that just needed padlocking to the ground and to heavily bolted in strips at the bottom of the second floor windows.

  The boats went into dry dock at a facility nearby the marina. They’d take the live-aboard boats first, The Scarlett Ann and the Mysteria Avenge. Then they would spend a couple of days getting the Reclaimer, Cutter’s salvage boat, out of the water. That was all them. It was my duty, along with whatever prospects we had, and Lightning, to get our bikes to safety in a stout, cinderblock, storage unit about a half hour away.

  My bike wouldn’t be going. I had discovered a significant enough oil leak that required practically a full engine tear down, so that was the plan for me during the storm. I wanted to get it fixed as soon as possible, so I figured I’d drive the crash truck and the guys back from the storage facility. That would be tomorrow or the next day’s project.

  With such a full day, of boarding up and supplying two houses today, I was surprised to find that we wrapped it up while there was still sun in the sky. The plan, as I heard it for tomorrow, was for the The Locker to come out of the water, so I was off the hook. That was all Marlin, the Captain, and Pyro. Some of the other guys with more maritime experience were expected to pitch in; I would be on hand here in town in case of any accidents.

  With nothing better to do for the rest of the afternoon, I found myself on the beach, sitting in the sand and staring out over the water, some wraparound, dark sunglasses covering my eyes to bring my light sensitive hangover down to a dull roar. Movement on my left had me flinching just as Faith sat down beside me, except it wasn’t Faith, it was Faith-lite… Charity.

  “Hey,” she smiled at me and shaded those light blue eyes from the glare of the sun.

  “You should get a pair of sunglasses.”

  She laughed a little, the sound light and soothing, carried away on the wind into the crashing surf, “I had a pair, they broke.”

  I pulled her money out of my shirt pocket and held it out to her, “Here, go buy a new pair.”

  “I can’t let you pay for my bedding, or for the picture frames, or for my sunglasses. Thank you, though.” She closed delicate fingers over my own and pushed my hand back towards me.

  “They were a ‘welcome to Ft. Royal’ gift, and ‘you break, you cry, I break, I buy’ on the picture frames. Take it, or you might hurt my feelings… all one of ‘em that’s left.” I said and tried a smile to soften the harshness of my tone. I was angry, but not at her, just at myself for being so messed up.

  She nodded silently and took the money from my fingertips, tucking the bills into her white bikini top. It took a second to register I was staring, but I think the glasses hid it. To be fair on my end, it’d been a long time, and she was something else in just her white bikini and long, gauzy, see through, blue and aqua wrap that sat low on her hips.

  “Thanks,” she said, voice low and careful, and I could almost detect a faint blush on her cheeks. I propped the glasses up on my head, and sure enough, there it was. I couldn’t explain the tight feeling in my chest that the sight caused.

  “Don’t mention it.”

  We sat in silence for a time, and she sighed, “You want to talk about it?” she asked.

  “Talk about what?”

  “I kind of figured you wouldn’t remember,” she said and she sounded a bit chagrined.

  “Remember what?” I asked, careful not to let on that the boys had told me full well of my asinine behavior.

  “I woke up and you were on my bedroom floor, trying to put my pictures into unbroken frames night before last, you don’t remember?”

  “Fuck, you serious?” I asked and tried to sound surprised. Her face held no lie, “Shit, I’m sorry.” The embarrassment I felt now I didn’t bother to hide.

  “So, where you been?” she asked, changing the subject for me so I didn’t have to.

  “Stuck around the house, working on my bike. The boys showed up this morning to help me board up and get ready for the storm. ”

  “I see, is it really that seri
ous?”

  “The hurricane coming? Yeah,” I shrugged, “It’s a hurricane.”

  “We don’t have storms like that in California.”

  “Yeah, I guess not… What’re you doing out here?” I asked, changing the subject again when the silence went too long.

  “Needed to go for a walk. Hope and Faith opted for an afternoon nap, but I was feeling a little restless.”

  I got up, probably a little abruptly, but this feeling I had buzzing through my veins… I just wanted it to quit. I covered up my eyes with my glasses and held a hand down to her. She smiled up at me and grasped my hand and I hauled her lightly to her feet. She dusted off her shapely ass and I forced myself to look away from her and out to the water. I’d intended to walk with her some, but that’s when I saw it and the emergency medical professional in me leapt out to the surface.

  “Oh, god!” I heard Charity exclaim and she was right on my heels as we ran full tilt down the beach and onto the wet sand. A woman was struggling onto the shore with her child in her arms, limp… arms and legs flopping, likely not breathing.

  Fucking shit.

  Charity didn’t miss a beat as I snatched the little boy from the screaming and crying lady and laid him out on the sand. She knelt by him, ear to his chest, and shook her head.

  “Begin chest compressions,” I snapped out and she assumed the trademark position and began her count. Bones and cartilage crackled and popped beneath her hands as they worked to pump life back through the kid’s veins. This shit was real, and nothing at all like in the movies, but Charity the nurse was in the house and I was suitably impressed.

  “Breathe!” she called and I bent, sealing my mouth over the boy’s. Tilting his head back and pinching his nose.

  “Again,” I said and she began her count. We were a team, the two of us melded into a working unit and I was surprised at how seamlessly. She’d had some good training, and me? I’d kept up with my certifications, mostly for the club and for the odd emergency like this one.

  The kid coughed and choked, my mouth filling with sea water and I sat up, spitting it off to the side. Charity rolled the kid into the recovery position and helped him choke it all up. His color started to return from the sickly blue purple he’d come out of the water with, and he started to cry.