Mayhem: A Twisted Hearts Love Story Book 2

by Autumn Sand

  “Already spoke to Magnum earlier today,” I explain as we wait at a red light.

  “Good.” He closes the folder he was reading, waiting for me to fill him in.

  “Magnum’s afraid Jay and Wheeler aren’t completely on board.”

  When Tony took over Ignacio’s business and announced things were going to change from illegal to legal dealings, we were led to believe Jay and Wheeler weren’t with the idea and wanted to stick with their shady ways.

  “Jay is just Wheeler’s flunky. Wheeler’s a nasty fucker. But I’ve got a feeling he’s biding his time,” Manny says from the backseat.

  Tony turns slightly to face him. “What makes you think that?”

  Shrugging and exhaling with an exaggerated breath, he says, “Just do. He hasn’t struck yet. But word on the street isn’t good. I’m telling you, this guy lives and breathes the streets. No way he’s with going legit. He’s playing along for now. Mark my words.” He flicks cigarette ash out of the car window.

  Tony turns to face me with a serious expression. “What’s your take on this?”

  “I agree. Thing is, we can’t risk reacting prematurely. So I’d rather just keep a close eye on him. Magnum has been giving us updates on Wheeler too.”

  Sitting back into his seat, Tony closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “All right, I expect the two of you to be all over this. I’m not missing the deadline that I promised Angel.” Angel is the nickname he’s given his wife, Anaya. He’s the only one allowed to call her that. Once, one of our boys made the mistake of referring to her as Angel… let’s just say he was breathing through his mouth only for the next month. Now, everyone knows never to make that mistake.

  “Got it, boss.” We both say in unison. Pulling into the warehouse parking lot, Manny and I get out of the car. We scan the area quickly to make sure there isn’t any impending danger. Manny gives me the thumbs up and I give the nod, signaling the all-clear to Tony who gets out of the car.

  A year ago, Tony and some of our men were in a warehouse similar to this one. Ignacio, had kidnapped Anaya and was going to kill both her and Tony that day. Rheda, Ignacio’s lawyer and lover, ended up killing him instead. It was just a bad situation all the way around.

  Magnum is inside near the entrance. Out of all of Ignacio’s former captains, Magnum stands at 6’9”, stocky, shaved head with tribal tattoos on the side of his face and around his bald head, and piercings on various parts of his face. He’s proven to be valuable to us in the transition. He’s our eyes and ears, and he’s loyal to Tony. Magnum strides over to us and nods. “Jay and Wheeler aren’t here yet.”

  Tony’s eyes narrow; he gives a quick nod in my direction before heading off to talk to one of the other captains. I turn my attention back to Magnum. “ETA?”

  Crossing his arms over his chest, he leans on one leg. “They said fifteen to twenty.”

  I rub the back of my neck, inhaling deeply. “Tony doesn’t have time to waste. We’ll start without them.” I nod to Manny, who’s off to the side, to give the signal that we’re going to start.

  “I’ll send them a text and let them know.” He grabs his phone from his pocket.

  As expected, Jay and Wheeler arrive late. A fact not lost on anyone. Two hours later, the meeting wraps up. In a rush to get to his next appointment at the club, Tony exits the door without so much as a backward glance.

  “Yo, give me the keys. I’ll drive us back.” Manny has his hand out, waiting for my key fob. I start to bust his balls a bit, but decide to let him drive. Hell, why not let him fight traffic. Once I toss him the keys, which he catches in midair, he turns on his heels to follow Tony, stopping briefly to shake hands with Magnum.

  I get Magnum’s attention. “Hey, stop by later. Tony wants Manny and me to go over some more details with you.”

  He stops in front of me. “Yeah sure. I’ll stop by later tonight. Gotta wrap up some stuff around here first.” Jay and Wheeler are talking to each other off to the side. We both note the two of them as they huddle together in deep conversation.

  “All right. Hit me up when you’re on your way. I might be getting my dick sucked and I don’t want the interruption.”

  Holding up his hands and laughing, he says, “Wouldn’t dream of doing that. It would be a crime against nature.” Magnum backs away, his eyes still alight with amusement.

  Manny drives us to the club and drops Tony off for his meeting. I then drop Manny off to get his haircut, and head to Westchester to see my godson. Tony bought Anaya her dream house just before they got married. She was a foster kid who was bounced around from family to family and had always wanted a home of her own, even going as far as painting a picture of it and hanging it in her office while daydreaming of having a family one day. It’s typical suburbia life. At first, it took Tony some time to adjust, but now he loves it. Becoming a family man has calmed the demons inside him.

  Pulling into Tony and Anaya’s driveway, I hop out of the car and grab my godson’s gift from the trunk. I can’t help but buy the little guy a gift every time I know I’ll see him. Guess in my own way, these are the gifts I would have given my son had I gotten the chance. Anaya constantly complains that I’m spoiling him. I keep reminding her, as the godfather, I have the right to do that. Gift in hand, I open the front door and call out, “Lucy, I’m home.”

  “Upstairs. Changing Xavier’s diaper.”

  Hmm, if he pissed in his diaper, all is safe, but if this kid took a shit, it could bring tears to the eyes! I opt to stay downstairs and wait for her to finish. A few minutes later, Anaya comes down the stairs with Xavier in her arms. Noticing me instantly, he tries to leap from her arms to get to me. Me and this kid have a special connection, one that I would’ve had with my own son perhaps. I take him from Anaya’s arms and give her a quick kiss on the cheek. Tossing Xavier up in the air, he giggles with delight and says my name. Well, at least I think it’s my name. He calls me “Twick.” I don’t care; he can call me whatever the hell he wants.

  “You eat already?” Anaya’s voice comes from the kitchen.

  “Not yet,” I say as I take a seat on the couch and bounce my godson on my knee.

  “I have some leftover lasagna.”

  “Sold.” Most of us would kill for her famous lasagna. An evil thought passes through my head. I’m going to take a picture of the lasagna and send it to Manny. Teach that fucker to complain about my driving.

  Standing by the kitchen’s entryway, Anaya stares at me as I play with little guy. I‘ve already given him his toy and he’s doing his best to tear the stuffed animal apart. “You’re spoiling him.”

  “Nah.” Holding him up, he wiggles and kicks his feet in delight. “You’re not spoiled, right, champ?” Xavier drools on me in response. I’ll take that answer as a no. “He says no.”

  Rolling her eyes at me, she sits across from the two of us. “When are you going to settle down? When’s the last time you took a woman out on a date?”

  “I don’t do dates.” I bounce Xavier on my knee and he giggles some more, dropping his toy on the floor.

  Standing, she walks over and bends down to pick up the toy and hands it back to her son. “Well, find yourself a nice woman.” The two of us became close to each other after Ignacio’s death. Anaya was dealing with emotional issues from being raped by him. I became that shoulder she needed to cry on when she had bad days and wasn’t coping well. Tony, instead of being jealous of our connection, was relieved by it. He was afraid she would’ve become a shell of her former self if she didn’t have me to talk to.

  “I do find nice women. It’s just that the following day, I find another nice woman to replace the one from the night before.” I grin at her as I think back to Cyma. Somehow, I don’t think I would be interested in replacing her. Anaya and I always have the same conversation because she constantly worries about me and wishes I would settle down.

  “You know what I meant.” She places her hands on her hips and glares before sitting back do
wn.

  “Stop worrying. I’m good.”

  Her brows crease. “Why didn’t you want me to go with you to the cemetery?”

  Exhaling and closing my eyes briefly, I try to find the right words to say. Xavier giggles and I bounce him on my knee to keep him happy. “I really didn’t want anyone to go. It’s still hard.”

  “I know. Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Nope.” I smile at my godson, who’s now gumming on my finger. “I’m fine. I’m not going to say it’s easier, because every day I think about her and it still hurts, but it’s becoming bearable.” Memories of going to their gravesite in Upstate New York a few days ago come back to me. I placed flowers on her grave and a teddy bear on my son’s, as my mom and dad stood behind me. I held myself together while all along wanting to fall apart. Afraid that I would have to lean on them for support, I placed what has become my mask on my face and put my best foot forward.

  “You need to stop blaming yourself. The accident wasn’t your fault.”

  I feel the blood pump through my veins, the very thing that gives me life I watched spill from Kayla, taking hers away. I can still see her in her wedding dress covered with blood lying on the ground. I’ve been momentarily transported back in time. And she says the same thing everyone says. That I need to stop blaming myself. I read once you go through five emotions of grieving: denial, pain, anger, depression and acceptance. Somehow I got stuck on depression and I don’t know how to move forward.

  “I know, but it doesn’t mean I don’t feel responsible. I feel like I didn’t protect her.” My father’s words repeat in my ear from years and years of drilling it in me. “You always protect your family, son. It’ll be your responsibility to keep them safe.”

  “Dante, you have to stop thinking it’s up to you to protect everyone else. Who’s going to protect you? She would want you to find someone to be happy with.”

  Inhaling deeply and slowly breathing out, my jaw tightens as I try to force out the lie. “I’m happy.”

  “Are you really?”

  I shrug, my eyes meeting her troubled ones. “I’m as happy as I guess I deserve.”

  “You are deserving. You deserve all the happiness life has to offer.”

  If only I can believe her words.

  Chapter 3

  Say Something ~ Drake ft. Timbaland

  Cyma

  Shit, I’m going to be late. He hates it when I’m late. Can’t this bus go any faster? I glance at my watch again and my stomach begins to bubble with fear. If I don’t get to Wheeler in ten minutes to make my monthly payment, he’ll either hit me or slap more interest on my loan. I can barely afford the interest as it is. My stomach does a flip-flop and I want to throw up. I ring for the bus to stop. It’ll be faster if I just get out and run the rest of the way.

  Horns are honking everywhere. The sound effects of the Manhattan traffic during rush hour. The bus pulls over at the next stop, and I jump off and sprint down the streets. Making it to Wheeler’s bar with two minutes to spare, I wipe sweat from my brow with the back of my hand. The bartender, who’s used to seeing me around this time of the month, acknowledges me with a nod, signaling for me to go to the back office. Panting, I pass by various men who ogle me. Most men either gawk or try to touch, and I’m used to both. Quite frankly, I’ve grown a thick skin to it and barely notice anymore.

  I lift my hand to knock on the door, hesitating momentarily, unsure of what lies on the other side. Straightening my back, I will myself to do a soft whisper of a knock. Silence engulfs me as I lean in to listen for Wheeler to give me the okay to open the door. He yells for me to enter, startling me, causing me to jump back. I straighten my skirt and open the door, plastering on my best fake smile. Wheeler licks his lips as he stares at me from top to bottom, and my stomach drops.

  “You’re appetizing, as usual.” He stands from behind a desk that has seen better days and saunters over to me, his eyes feasting on my breasts; I instinctively bring my hand to my bosom.

  “Umm, I have your monthly payment.” I open up my pocketbook and fumble for the envelope. Handing it over to him with trembling hands, I wait for him to take it. He reaches out and caresses my wrist with his calloused fingers. I flinch at his touch.

  Giving me a toothy grin, he suddenly snatches the envelope from my hand, which would have been enough to pay my rent and some back bills had I not been forced to give it all to him. “All there?” He’s quick to get right back to business.

  “Yes...” My voice hitches as my heart pounds feeling like it’s going to jump out of my chest. I swallow hard to steady my nerves. “Yes, of course.” Not wanting to make any eye contact with him, I turn my head.

  He flips through the contents of the envelope, counting it quickly as I see visions of my endless amount of bills piling up in my head. “Nice doing business with you.” The sarcasm oozes in his tone.

  I inhale deeply for courage. Okay, it’s now or never. “Umm, Wheeler, do you think I can get a break on the interest? I’m falling behind in my rent and bills.”

  His eyes turn to steel. “Do I look like a fucking charity to you? You want sympathy, go to church! I’m a business man.”

  Fuck! I should’ve known better, but I really do need a break. If he could just lower it slightly, I can get back on track with rent at least. I take in another deep breath and speak quickly. “I… I understand that.” Fuck, my voice is trembling. “You’re right,” I manage to say. “It’s just that if I don’t pay some of my back rent, I’ll be out on the street.” I’m already dodging my landlord when I enter and exit my apartment.

  “Not my fucking problem.” His eyes narrow as he speaks.

  Definitely not going the way I’d hoped, but I have to try one last time. If he doesn’t give me a break, I don’t know what I’ll do. “You’re right.” I look down, trying to steady my nerves and bite at my lower lip, searching for words. “H-How about a break for two months.” The last word of my sentence is a squeak. Swallowing hard, I look up but not into his eyes. “Th-that would help me greatly. I’d appreciate any help you can give.” I’m on the verge of getting on my hands and knees to beg him at this point.

  Stepping in closer to me, he places his face inches from my own. I smell the booze and garlic from his lunch on his breath, and I want to gag at the smell. I close my eyes, and my lips begin to quiver. He reaches under my skirt and places his hand on my crotch area, and my eyes suddenly, shocked.

  “Want a break? Want me to help you? How about you help me? Get on your knees and suck me off. When I bust my load in your mouth, you swallow like the good little whore you are.”

  “I, umm, I… ugh. I can’t do that.” My heart pounds in my chest and my body begins to tremble.

  “You fucking ask me for a favor but won’t give anything in return!” He yells the words into my face and a lone tear falls down my cheek. “You always act like you’re too good for me. Too good to even be in my presence! I offered you once before to spread your legs for me and I’d make the debt you owe disappear!” He snaps his fingers in the air. “You fucking bitch, you ain’t better than nobody!” He balls his fist and punches me in the stomach. I fall to the floor, the wind knocked out of me. Standing over me, he glares down at me. “Now get the fuck out of my office. Just because you’re a fucking cunt, your interest just went up by two percent.”

  Gasping for air on the ground, I try to stand on shaky legs. Clasping my purse to me, I’m finally able to stand up straight. Anger is radiating off of him and I flinch again when my eyes make contact with his. When I turn to leave, he says, “By the way, I’m throwing a party in a few days. I expect you to be the entertainment. I’ll text you the details later.”

  I freeze at his words as my trembling hand opens the door to leave. Running out of the bar without so much as a backward glance, I try to put as much distance between me and him as possible. Stopping by a light pole, I grab a hold of it and puke. Pedestrians avoid me as I lose my lunch all over the street. My body breaks o
ut in a cold sweat and I place my forehead on the pole, the coolness of it brings shivers up my body.

  Replaying the conversation in my head, the only conclusion I’ve come up with is I shouldn’t have asked him for the break. Now he has raised my interest by 2 percent, and that puts me further in the hole! I clutch my stomach as I swallow back the bile that is threatening to come up again. What am I going to do? How are we going to survive? My pulse quickens as I try to gather my thoughts, and I have to steady myself on the light pole. Various people on the crowded street bump into me.

  I regret the day that I cried to my boss, Peter, from the strip club, about my money problems. Ignacio De Luca was alive then, and he and his boys were regulars there. Peter told me Wheeler was in the business of giving out loans to people. I’d been so desperate at the time, I’d jumped on it. I gave Wheeler a lap dance one night because I needed the extra cash and he hired me to sit with him and his boys for the rest of that night. Peter urged me to talk to Wheeler, and I did. Oh, he was too happy to help me and my “dear little girl.” I borrowed a few thousand here and there while keeping up with my payments. But things changed dramatically when Ignacio was killed. He went up on my payments and I ended up having to borrow more, and here I am now, standing on a street corner in Manhattan puking my guts out.

  I glance at my watch. Oh my God! I’m late again! My heart pounds as I run for the bus stop. The bus arrives after a twenty minute wait. Once I’m in the hospital, I wave hello to some of the nurses I’m more familiar with. They are all used to me by now. I hate the sympathy in their eyes, the pity that most days I can’t stomach. They can keep their pity if it’ll make my daughter healthy again. Pausing at my four-year-old daughter's door, I try to compose myself before going inside. I must be strong for both of us. I open the door and step inside to the sound of the beeping monitors. She lays in bed, asleep. Taking a seat next to her bed, I lean my head on her bedside railing.