BABY FOR A PRICE: Marino Crime Family

by Kathryn Thomas

  When the music is completely off, Gavin begins, “When we get back to your house, you’re not to go in there. You hear me?”

  I turn my head back towards him as I reply. “I hear you just fine, but there is no way you’re going alone. That is my house, my parents, and I am going in there come hell or high water. Do you hear me?”

  “You didn’t listen to me with Martin when I told you to stay in the car. Now I need you to listen to me. Whatever is going down back home, you shouldn’t see it.”

  “If you know I didn’t listen to you with Martin, why in the hell would you believe I was going to listen to you now? It doesn’t matter what I am going to see. I’ve seen enough as it is to last me a lifetime. Whatever is waiting there for me isn’t going to be any worse than what I’m picturing now.”

  “Vanessa…” He tries to argue further, but instead he lets out a long, grumble of a moan that causes him to wrap his fingers around the seat and bite down hard on the collar of his shirt. I can’t imagine the pain of a gunshot. The idea of something so hard being fired out of a weapon and crossing through all those parts inside of you is beyond me.

  I’ve dealt with gunshot wounds once before though. A dog came into the vet school clinic one evening while I was working in the lab. We occasionally took in walk-ins during weekends when the emergency vets in town charged an arm and a leg, but it was for routine things like a dog with an upset stomach or a cat with a broken paw. We weren’t ready for a poor, defenseless beagle that had been shot in the stomach by an angry neighbor.

  As I quickly shaved the dog around the wound spot to prep for surgery, I got a glimpse of what that bullet could do. Infections can set in within seconds and small fragments can travel throughout to places in the body completely naked to the human eye. The dog died that day, right there on the operating table while its owners sobbed in the makeshift waiting room with a few of the other unsuspecting vet assistants. Gavin’s wound looks just like that dog’s.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, knowing the answer to my own question. “Do you want me to pull over. There’s a hospital at the next exit. We can go there.”

  “No!” His yell suddenly fills up the silent car, causing me to look back down on the road, away from him as he settled himself back down. “I’m sorry, Vanessa. I’m sorry. I just --- We need to do this for you, for me, for the club. I’m not going out tonight until I see that you’re completely safe.”

  “Gavin, you’re not going anywhere. Not without me at least.”

  “You know what I mean, Vanessa.” His eyes flash up to the mirrors, catching my glance. Those blue pools soak in every bit of my emotions whenever I see them shine.

  “I know what you mean but not tonight. You got me? Not tonight?”

  He doesn’t respond. He just lays back and lets me drive the rest of the way back home in complete silence. The highway passes by in an instant as I start to dread coming up to the neighborhood. I wonder if I could take the long way and him not notice, but I don’t dare.

  I just drive down the subdivision, occasionally glancing at the few bedroom lights that are still on. In those houses, there are the civilians totally unaware of the hell that is brewing just a few blocks from their own, private spaces. Or maybe they know. After all those years living in that house, I suspect that at least some of our neighbors knew what kind of life we led, what kind of husband and father Jonah Barber was. Still, they turn a blind eye when they themselves are offered protection from the unknown evils of the world.

  When I pull up to the driveway, the first thing that catches my eye is that the lights are on. Not just one hallway light or the light to my parents’ bedroom. Every light is on and shining brightly through the curtains. My stomach lurches into my throat as I try to think of all the reasons why either my mom or my dad felt the need. Gavin too must have noticed the offputting scene as he pulled himself slowly forward.

  “Do you still have that gun, Vanessa?”

  “My brother’s? Yeah.” After the fight, I had thrown it into the front seat of the car, trying my best to forget about it. I hand it back to Gavin as he quickly figures out the custom safety feature. It makes a load, forewarning click as it goes live.

  “There’s probably not many bullets left in there, but you should hold on to it. You need to use it, you don’t hesitate this time.” Gavin gives me one last glance in the rearview mirror, his eyes softening as we both breath in time. Then, he opens the door, kicking at it with his foot and slides himself out. His body tumbles onto the concrete ground, but he manages to pick himself up. I steal one look to the backseat as I close the door behind him. The stain of blood is as big as the entire middle seat.

  Gavin limps as he walks, his body not allowing him to walk in a straight line. And though he’s moving fast, he trips over his feet, causing him to spin in place. I walk behind him, my hands outstretched to catch him when I need him. But he keeps his face forward except for one long glance at something across the street right before he opens the door to the house.

  My childhood home has always had this familiar, comforting smell. Most childhood homes do. But mine smells just like my mom’s perfume mixed with motor oil and freshly made bread. The two energies of my parents lingered in everything from the couches in the living room to the hallway carpet and up to the welcome mat Gavin dried his feet off with as he slowly closed the door behind me.

  I can’t smell that smell. Well, I can’t smell the perfume. That pungent motor oil is there and stronger than ever. But my mom’s trace is nowhere to be found. It’s as if she has been completely wiped out of her own home, her own story. All there is is my father. My father. My father.

  Gavin takes his hand off of his wound and begins to step lightly into the entryway and towards the living room. His toes roll up, a trick I’m sure is supposed to keep others from hearing him coming or from stepping on old floor boards that might give him away. As he goes, he touches little objects -- a fashion magazine still opened to an article on a celebrity’s affair, a glass of watery colored whiskey, my mother’s unzipped white leather purse. His fingers leave little bloody prints like breadcrumbs as we then head to the kitchen.

  It’s there where we spot the first sign -- blood. Lots of it. It’s almost unreal how much blood there is. Even in movies, crime scenes like this weren’t so graphic. Sure, there would be specks of blood, maybe a splatter that looked like a paint smear, but this was almost like a puddle that never ended. It trailed through the kitchen towards the back entrance to the house, stopping at the small guest bathroom near the door.

  We followed it quickly, neither of us wanting to stop to guess who the blood belonged to. Whomever was behind the bathroom door, they were in bad shape, hopefully too bad to attack us. Gavin put his hand on my chest and pushed me to the side as he lifted his leg slowly, placing it on the frame of the door. With a huff of breath, his foot shot through, making a hole right where he made contact.

  A muffled cry came through, and I ran past Gavin towards the door. My hand reached through and unlocked it from the outside, flinging it open. Just like the kitchen, the bathroom was covered in blood. Handprints around the sink and along the mirror belonging to my mother showed how much she struggled just to get to where she laid -- tattered and torn in the bathtub.

  “Mom!” I cried out as I ran towards the tub. My feet sink to the floor as my arms wrap around her. I cry back towards Gavin to grab me some towels from under the sink, but I have no idea where to begin. Her body is sliced, a road map of my father’s anger. There’s puncture wounds along her arms, chest, and even legs. Her face and neck are the only places that managed to stay clear, but they are a shocking shade of white as her lips tremble at seeing me.

  “Call the police! Call someone!” I scream to Gavin as he stands upright and firm in the doorway, looking towards the backdoor. “Gavin!” I shout again, trying to get his attention. “She needs help!”

  My mother’s hand reaches up to touch my face as she mouths quietly, “Oh Vanessa. I love yo
u, but you have to run.”

  “Run? Where’s dad? Is he here?”

  “Run!” She coughs, a small trace of blood spitting out.

  Gavin grabs my shoulders and spins me around towards the bathroom door and back towards the hallway leading outside. Standing in the doorway is my father. His hand waves the same piece of glass my mother stabbed him with earlier. His bare chest is wrapped in the sheet she had torn from the bed, evidently putting pressure on the wound she had caused. Clutched in his hand was a rifle and a nearly empty bottle of Jim Beam.

  “It’s no use, Vanessa. Your mama isn’t going to make it -- at least when I’m done with y’all.” He lifts the gun and points it straight up and out, but in his state, it doesn’t point at either of us. It just leans to and fro as he tries to steady himself. He looks back at Gavin as he says, “You managed to get past my boy, did you? I knew you were a clever son-of-a-bitch, but I didn’t think you had those nine lives either.”

  “Martin’s dead. We killed him. And you’re next if you don’t play your cards right, Barber.” Gavin’s voice has suddenly grown stronger as he pushes himself against a wall for support. “The whole club knows about your plans with the Senators and their coming. Even if you kill us three, you’ll be chased and hunted down and given a traitor’s goodbye. You surrender now, and maybe I’ll put in a good word for you.”

  “You’re bluffing.” My father replies as he looks back to me. “You set him to say this shit, didn’t you? You were always the smart little girl, my perfect angel. I should have known that one day you would turn on me like this. But at least I know you’re not going to get that happily ever after with a bastard of your own.”

  He pulls the gun back up to his eyes again and places his finger on the trigger. The gun aims at Gavin as he laughs, “Say goodbye Vanessa! Can’t say I’ll miss him!”

  They say that a mother has this innate power to protect its family when in danger. You hear these stories about women who move cars off of their babies that have been run over or mothers who walk thousands of miles in the desert for water during famines. For me, it’s shooting my father.

  As he cocks the gun back to his shoulder, I move in speeds I’ve never thought possible. The gun I set on the counter of the bathroom finds its way to my hand and, unlike when I had to use it with Martin, the trigger pulls back. The force of the gun sends me back up against the side of the wall to where Gavin is standing, but I don’t stop. I fire it again. And again. And again. Three bullets each hitting their mark directly into the center of my father’s chest. They make bulletholes he’ll never recover from as his body falls to the ground in a loud, unearthly thud that seems to shake the entire home.

  So many things happen in the moments that follow. My mother cries out as if something is being physically released from her body. It’s not sorrow, pain, or guilt. It’s a release that takes all of her remaining energy from her. As I look towards her, I feel Gavin’s weight press down on me, his body giving in finally. He falls ontop of me, giving me just enough time to set the still warm gun down on the ground next to where I lay him, in a puddle of my mom or dad’s blood. I don’t even know now.

  And as I think there could be possibly no way out of it, as I look to that gun for some relief, Gavin’s threat to my father comes true. The front door slams open followed by the sound of boots -- Bloody Pagan boots. At least 15 or 20 men I don’t instantly recognize outside their club color jackets storm into the kitchen, each stopping in their tracks as they spot the carnage. They look to me kneeling with Gavin’s head in my lap for how to approach.

  And I can only cry, “Help. Please help.”

  Epilogue: Together

  I stand up, wedging my feet into my new pair of heels. The leather backs rubs up against my skin, and I wonder why I didn’t take all that advice about breaking them in before wearing them. No one wants to be in pain on their wedding day, especially while walking down the aisle to the man of their dreams.

  “Are you ready?” Alice asks as she holds my white gown up above her head. “We’re already running late.”

  “I know, I know. I just want to hold my baby one last time before I get in there. I’d really like to avoid messy fingerprints all over my gown.” I walk over to my mom who has been sitting quietly in her wheelchair, my baby girl in her arms. She smiles down at her as she hands her back to me.

  When Hazel was born, I was a mess, a total wreck. It had been seven months since the night my entire life changed, and I was still feeling the weight of it on me almost every day and night. My life was full of nightmares and daydreams of bodies on the ground, Gavin falling into my arms, the sound of my mother’s scream. But as soon as I heard Hazel’s cry, I knew that my life would never be the same. It would be more than my past or who I was brought up to be. It would be about her, about our family.

  And now, it’s going to become official: Mrs. Gavin Wren. We could all three have the same name. I could burst just thinking about it as I stare down at my tiny redheaded baby with those almond eyes that belong to me and the rest that was all her daddy. With those eyes, she would get to witness her parents finally becoming one. What more could a girl like me ask for?

  After a few kisses and hugs, I place my baby back in my mother’s arms and allow Alice to slip my dress over my head. It’s nothing too formal. Just a lacey white dress with cap sleeves. Everyone was telling me to go for something beaded and bedazzled, but that’s just not my style. I also couldn’t imagine Gavin looking at me covered in fake jewels and sparkles. I instead got something timeless, practical, simple.

  When I spin around to face my friend and mom, I know I’ve made the right choice in dresses. Their eyes light up when they see me with my veil in place. “You look amazing -- everything I dreamed you would look like on this day, Vanessa.” My mom wheels herself to my side and takes my hand in hers. Even though it’s been nearly a year since I found her cut up in the bathroom, she’s still much weaker than I could remember. Still, her hand presses into mine as she adds. “I couldn’t be more proud of you than I am right now.”

  I choke back the tears that are forming in my eyes as I look over towards the large clock in Gavin’s and my new house. We just closed the deal on it last month, and I’ve already spent countless hours painting and priming everything, including overseeing him build the in-law suite for my mother to be as close to us as possible. It was the least I could do given all that she sacrificed for me.

  “Oh man,” I say, overwhelmed by my own thoughts, “It’s time to go. The guys are waiting for us.”

  Alice walks outside, baby in her arms, and flags down the limo driver. He helps my mother into the car while Alice puts Hazel into a car seat. I hang out in the back. I wasn’t going to be riding with them. I had other plans today -- a surprise fit for Gavin. I watch as the limo turns off our road and down towards the wedding chapel.

  When it’s all clear, I carefully hike the skirt of my dress up and exchange my heels for a pair of brown, dusty cowgirl boots. My bike, a vintage Harley painted in a flashy pearl white, is waiting for me all polished and ready to go. For the last few months, while Gavin’s overseeing official Bloody Pagans business and managing the merger between them and the Senators, I’ve been taking riding lessons with Thad, Alice’s new boyfriend. Once I was comfortable, I put in the order for two new matching bikes -- one in the black on black Gavin loved and this white one for me. A “bride and groom” pair, the dealer noted as I smiled happily.

  I head out towards the chapel slowly, enjoying the ride and even the curious stares from the few gawkers out on the main roads. The California sun beats down on my skin and the wind whips through my curled hair, but I don’t mind it. I’ve never felt so alive in my entire life. This is what I have been missing out on for all those years locked up in my bedroom, dreaming of what life would be like when I was finally set free. Who knew my savior would have been a man on a motorcycle.

  I turn into the church, parking just outside the doors. From just outside, I can hear
the music starting and I get a glimpse of Alice carrying Hazel in her arms down the aisle. I put the bike in park and wait for Gavin to hear the engine rev over and over again. A few heads turn before the entire congregation is staring out at the woman on the bike. Thad grabs Gavin’s arm and drags him outdoors, pointing at me as I come into view.

  “Vanessa?” He says as he places his hands over his mouth in complete shock. “What the hell is this?” His tuxedoed arms stretch out towards me as he gestures to the bike.

  “You like it?” I smile over to the crowd of onlookers staring at me in total disbelief. Not many MC women ride bikes. Then again, most of them aren’t like me.

  “I love it,” He stammers as he walks out towards me. I place the bike in park and dismount as he asks the million dollar question, “But how? How did you do this?”

  “Well, it’s not just this bike… it’s that one too.” Thad reappears from around the chapel wheeling the matching bike towards him. I wait for him to speak, but Gavin just stares at me completely dumbfounded. I explain quickly, fearing the worst, “I just wanted you to know that I will always ride with you. No matter what life puts us through, no matter what roads it takes us down, you will always have me as your partner. Forever.”