by Trent Jordan
“The hell’s going on up in Springsville? Saw the attack on Brewskis.”
It wasn’t a message directly pitching me on joining them. But it wasn’t hard to read between the lines and see how it easily could become that. All he had to do after this text was say something about how the Hovas were now more stable, and if I came to him, I wouldn’t have to worry about shit like that.
And you know what?
After what Butch had said to me, I was a little bit more willing to see him.
“I have to admit, this is a pleasant surprise,” Jerome said as he met me outside his house, shaking my hand. “I ask that you keep it quiet, though. The lady is upstairs and trying to sleep.”
“Of course,” I said. “It’ll be nice to be around someone who is married and mature.”
Jerome chuckled, but I could see confusion starting to take form on his face. It was like he thought something might be up.
“So what the hell happened in Springsville, man?” he said. “I just looked up from the news and saw the bar got attacked.”
“Shit, if I knew, I wouldn’t be here right now, I’d be down the throat of the Fallen Saints,” I said. “We know they did it, but I don’t know the details. Nor, for that matter, do I particularly care. I’m much more invested in killing all of them with my bare hands.”
“Well, you know we’re here to help if you need it,” he said. “We got riled up from the attack last time, and we want to keep contributing, you know what I’m saying?”
I nodded.
“But that doesn’t explain why you wanted to meet up,” he said. “I know you ain’t come down here to deliver me news that I can read on my phone. So, what’s up?”
Just say it out loud.
“You were right,” I said. “You were right. The Reapers aren’t really my people. You guys are.”
Jerome looked at me wide-eyed.
“What the hell happened?”
“Not important,” I said. “What is important is I want to go to a club that values me and isn’t going to say shit like ‘your kind.’”
“Bro, the fuck…” Jerome said, his voice trailing off.
“I know that I was allowed to leave the Hovas before on the condition that we became allies,” I said. “And maybe we can stay allies. I don’t know. But I do know that I’m not interested in sticking around there.”
“You’re hot right now, aren’t you?”
“Hell yeah, I’m fucking hot!” I said.
I probably wasn’t making a great case for myself. But then again, I didn’t really think I needed to. I was being recruited, not asking to join. But do you really think Jerome will just take you on blind like this?
“Look, man, you’ve recruited me for a while now. I don’t understand what the huge deal is. Just bring me on.”
“Okay, hold up, man,” Jerome said. “First of all, I know you’re hot, and just like you don’t need a reason to strike the Saints, I don’t need a reason to see why. But, with that said, I ain’t asking you to come work the fast-food line at Wendy’s. I’m asking you to join a club that you already left once. You’re my friend, and that’s a big reason why it worked before. But, man... how bad you want in?”
Finally.
“I want to get the fuck in, man,” I said. “Let me join.”
But at that, Jerome did something unexpected.
“It ain’t that easy,” he said. “Of course, I’ve recruited you. I recruit everyone I can. I wanna make us as strong as possible. But that doesn’t mean anyone can just walk in.”
The fuck is this?
“Axle—or LeCharles, if we’re not using your club name—you did a lot of good shit for us back then. But if you’re going to join us, I need to know you’re really in. I need you to quit the Reapers for a month.”
“Okay, and?”
“And then we’ll decide.”
Jesus.
“You’re just doing this to weaken us, aren’t you?” I said.
Jerome shrugged.
“My job is to make this club as strong as it can,” he said. “I’m not going to hurt any of y’all, and I’m not going to become your enemy. But it’s no secret the Reapers are stronger than us right now. If we can get stronger, terms become more favorable to us. Catch my drift? It’s just business, man.”
I shook my head. This wasn’t what I signed up for. Who the fuck was this Jerome before me?
“I thought it’d be easier than this,” I said.
“Yeah, well, you ain’t get to be President of the club without making things hard,” he said. “Tell you what. I know I got a relationship with you, and I know you’re a good guy. Get back to me by Sunday night.”
“Sunday?”
“I usually make people decide on the spot,” Jerome said. “People usually show their true intentions under pressure. I’m giving you time, man. Don’t make me regret it.”
What... is going the fuck on?
I didn’t say a word more. I had gotten burned so much by conversations going too long and things getting too ugly the last twenty-four hours or so, if it happened one more time, I didn’t know what the fuck I would do.
Instead, I left, wondering if I really had any allies left or just people who pretended to be my friend. First Rose, then Butch, and now Jerome? Shit, who the hell did I have left if not them? Anyone?
The question wasn’t worth pondering. I needed to get home, get some rest, and pick up the pieces.
Maybe this was the feeling Rose was having when she felt she’d hit rock bottom.
Maybe I’d get the feeling she got of picking herself back up.
Maybe...
Rose
Monday Evening
“Alright, I think you’ve got the hang of it!”
Isaac clapped his hands before me and looked over my shoulder.
“Six o’clock, gotta get going. I think you’ve got it. Oh, and the closing procedures are in the manual in the office. Call me if you have any questions!”
I was so stunned at how quickly Isaac just got up and left that I could scarcely believe he had even hired me for the position. My first shift, scheduled to go from five to nine p.m., was supposed to be a full day of training. Even though using a register was the type of thing anyone who had basic math skills could use—actually, even more basic than that since the computer could handle much of the calculations—I figured I would get a more in-depth training than what I received. There were the different bottles, the different types of beers, vendors we worked with… all those details would have been nice to know.
But instead, Isaac seemed to believe I could just figure it out on my own and left the store. I didn’t know whether to be complemented by some presumed faith in my abilities or insulted at the notion that he was too lazy to train me. I at least knew he had taken my driver’s license and a blank check for payment purposes, so at least I’d be getting paid.
When Isaac left, I sat back on a stool behind the cashier, sighed, and took a deep breath. There was no one else in the store. In fact, only one person had come in from the time we had opened. I supposed part of the reason people didn’t want to work these hours was that no one who would tip came in at that time. But it wasn’t like we were a bar—besides completing purchases, we just gave people advice on drinks and then let them take it home or outside. I was getting paid my hourly wage whether or not anyone tipped.
And you know what? I liked that there was no one else in the store. I liked that I was earning money in a serene environment.
I needed it after the feelings of regret and stress had built up in the previous couple of days. After everything that had happened with LeCharles and Brewskis, I just stayed in the entire weekend. I could have foreseen many things going wrong, but I didn’t think my quaint hometown of Springsville would suddenly turn into a crime-infested town with rival gangs causing collateral damage. I also didn’t think LeCharles and I would briefly “reunite” as much as we had, only for things to then descend straight into hell again.
The roller coaster ride had me thinking maybe I just needed to go somewhere else nearby. I had the fortune of having a commute under ten minutes right now, but what if I could increase it to thirty in return for being away from the crime and drama?
Not like I had anything to lose with LeCharles or anyone else.
The bell rang, but I didn’t look up at first. I was just relishing being alone and being quiet. And in any case, someone entering meant the presence of a customer who would want information about beer that I didn’t really know about. It wouldn’t be the greatest of looks if an employee couldn’t differentiate two stouts or two IPAs.
But eventually, curiosity got the better of me, and I turned to the direction of the sound. And…
LeCharles…
The hell?
Does he know I’m working here?
But he wasn’t looking at me. In fact, I couldn’t even see his eyes. It was as if he was scooting backward along the shelves of beer, the better to avoid having to look at me whenever possible.
It was either a massive coincidence that he was here, or he really did know I’d be here, and he’d wanted to make conversation with me. Did he know Isaac? Was that why Isaac had just abruptly left so early?
It seemed too implausible for me. Isaac seemed like a hippie who would have been scared by the noise of motorcycles. LeCharles was the type of rugged, badass individual who didn’t give a shit what you thought about him. Unless you’re me, and unless you drive him further and further into the ground.
My mouth opened to offer him help. But the words caught in my mouth. He still had not turned around. It was like he was playing a game of only allowing me to see his ass and back, and though he had a nice ass, that most certainly wasn’t my desired focus.
He couldn’t keep up the game forever, though. Eventually, perhaps recognizing that he just needed to face me and talk, he brought up a six-pack of some stouts.
And boy, when I finally saw his face, I was shocked at how haggard he looked. The bags on his eyes were more like inflated bean bags. His eyelids could barely support themselves to stay up, and he walked in a hunched over fashion like Quasimodo.
And, on top of that, in the brief moment that I made eye contact with him, I saw far too much pain to merely attribute it to my presence. It felt like there was something much deeper going on.
“Hey,” I said.
It came out weak. I wanted to say more. LeCharles muttered something that sounded like “hey” back, but it sounded more like a hitch in the throat than an actual word. I didn’t see any point in trying to make sense of it, so I just continued to go through the motions of scanning the six-pack and ringing it up on the register.
“Anything else?” I said, more on autopilot than to be polite.
LeCharles didn’t say anything. He didn’t even shake his head. I told him it cost a little over fourteen dollars, and though he briefly looked up at me in surprise, like he couldn’t believe a six-pack would cost that much, his eyes went right back down. This is not the LeCharles I know. Even the beaten-down LeCharles still had fire to him. What the hell is going on?
He quickly produced fifteen dollars in cash, which I counted out and handed him the change. Without looking at me, he slid the coins down into the tip jar and started to leave. I was this close to just letting him go without saying a word.
But then I recognized the look he had.
It was the look I had had during my rock bottom. He may not have cried as I did, but that didn’t mean there weren’t some serious issues going on that he was struggling to deal with. And no one, not even the man who had made my life hell on Thursday and ten years ago, not even the man I had fought with so badly, not even the man who had been my ex, deserved to go through a period as rough and cruel as this.
“LeCharles,” I said, raising my voice loud enough for him to hear it.
It stopped him at the front entrance of the store. But he wasn’t ready to look back at me.
“Is everything okay?”
I spoke with genuine sincerity and concern. I hoped nothing I said sounded like it was mocking him.
When he looked back at me, I knew the image I saw of him would haunt me for a long, long time. It was the image of someone who had seemingly had their soul ripped in half, an image of profound suffering.
“I finally know what you felt the night of Brewskis,” he said.
His gaze lingered a little longer. I believed him. The man before me looked like a man who had come back from war and had no one to welcome him home, no one to comfort him. What sort of wars had he fought since Thursday in his own head—or perhaps even here in Springsville—that had dragged him down so much so quickly? What had defeated him like this?
And then he left.
“No, LeCharles—”
But this time, my voice could not stop him.
“LeCharles…”
You’re going to let a man that beaten down just leave? You’re going to let someone suffering like him leave without letting him know you’re in his corner? Even if things ended as badly as they did, you want anyone to feel like you felt?
With no one else in the store, I left my post behind the cash register and rushed out. LeCharles had swung his case of beer over the handlebars and was already kicking his leg over.
“LeCharles!”
He stopped and looked at me. I didn’t think I was going to say anything profound that would make him happy, and I wasn’t even sure I wanted to do anything more than make sure he was okay. But I had to say something.
“Whatever you’re about to do, please don’t do anything stupid, okay?” I said. “Don’t make the mistake I did and nearly ruin your life. Don’t be that person. Just... go home.”
LeCharles stared at me for a long, long time before a very small smile formed on his face.
“I am,” he said with a heavy voice. “No one else will have me right now.”
He feels so alone. I know the feeling all too well.
“I’m sorry, LeCharles,” I said. “I get off at nine if you want some company.”
It didn’t need to be said that I wasn’t saying that in any sexual or romantic sense. I was only speaking as a compassionate human being, one who needed to make clear that I cared for another human being’s state of mind. LeCharles nodded.
But he didn’t say anything else, and seconds later, he was backing up his bike, pushing it out of the parking lot, and heading home. Or, at least, what I hoped was home.
“Really hope you’re not going to do anything stupid,” I said. “I don’t want... ”
... to lose you because you did something fatal. I didn’t think the man was that close to suicide, but I’d never seen him look like this. At the very least, he needed attention.
For now, though, I just had a couple more hours of overseeing the store and keeping an eye on it to make sure nothing happened. I went back inside, sat on the stool, and wondered how I would kill time. It was nice to be earning money that would give me a cushion, but there had to be a more productive way to spend my time here. Maybe I could bring study guides. Maybe I could think about my career path. Maybe...
The door opened. I glanced up.
And my heart sunk.
“Holy shit, Rick, would you look at this.”
The two assholes who wanted to rape me at Brewskis.
Now I really wished that LeCharles had stuck around. Aside from some security cameras, there wasn’t any form of defense here, and in any case, I didn’t exactly have a lot of faith that cameras would stop these two Fallen Saints.
“Goddamn, Parker, it’s the bitch that got rescued by her boyfriend,” he said with her snicker. “Her boyfriend, who we’re going to fucking kill.”
Parker and Rick shared a bullying laugh, high-fiving each other. I crossed my arms, trying to hide my fear. I was determined to at least fight back more than I had at Brewskis. I didn’t have much of a choice, really, considering that there was no way I could rely on LeCharles to return. It was t
hat or just let whatever they wanted to do happen.
“Can I help you?” I said in the fakest polite tone I could manage.
“Oh, can you?” Rick said. “You could help us by letting us inside... you.”
He and Parker laughed again like two teenage boys who had just dared each other to say something awful.
“That is not going to happen,” I said. “If you want alcohol from here, we are happy to provide that to you. Otherwise, I would ask you to leave.”
“And if we don’t?” Parker said, leaning forward on the table. “Please, tell us, bitch, what’ll happen?”
“I’ll have the cops called.”
It was an instinctive reply borne out of my time in the medical field, both for humans and for animals. In this town and with these guys, though, it didn’t really work.
In fact, not only did it not work, it seemed to provoke them further because their laughter only increased in their taunts.
“The police!” Rick said, slapping the table. “Hey, Parker, cuff me! Oh, wait, that’s her job!”
“Oh, shit, like those pigs can do anything,” Parker said. “And she’s the one that would get cuffed, not us! You crazy!”
“Hey man, why don’t we cuff her feet and her legs!”
“I could also get the Black Reapers on you.”
And just like that, the magic two words shut the two assholes up so fast it was like someone had sewn their mouths shut. Their eyes still looked upon me with utter hatred and venom, and there was still the significant and likely chance of violence, but at least I had hit them where it hurt.
“For now, your boyfriend might be able to protect you,” Rick finally said, his lips curling in hatred. “But after tomorrow night, there won’t be any Reapers left to protect you. And when that happens, we’re going to come here. We’re going to drag you from this store. And we’re going to fucking take you to our place and do whatever the fuck we want with you.”
“You’ll be begging for death,” Parker said. “But, you’ll still have some use to us, even in death.”