My eyebrows rise when she looks up from wiping the bar and blushes then looks back down.
“Sorry. You said only talk of Ben. I’m…”
“No.” I step forward, feeling anxiety kick up in my chest. Suddenly, I want to know the rest. I want to know everything anyone can tell me. “No, continue. What’d King say? That’s not gonna be a problem, is it? If it’s a matter of security, we have a few extra men.” I glance at Dreads, but he shakes his head.
“Not now, brother. Come on, Jackie boy. You and I need to talk before we discuss anything further where Vagabond is concerned with King and Phil. You and me. Your office. Now would be good.” He opens the door I just slammed five minutes ago and takes a mixed drink from Lynette before handing it to me. “Drink this. I’m not sure where you were hoping this shit would end up. But you had to know it wouldn’t be good. We’ll discuss having Slim follow me down there. But, first, I gotta find out where your head’s at, brother.”
Once I’ve been ushered back down the stairs and we’ve made our way into my office in the back of the garage, I sit behind my desk, take a long swig off the cold drink in my hand, and lean back.
“I just want you to tell me she’s happy and healthy,” I say. “If she wants a fucking hair salon, I want her to have it. She’s the mother of my child—” My hand comes to my chest and I rub at the ache. “That can’t be too much to ask, bro. And I refuse to let it be. She should never have to ask me for shit. Not after the hell I’ve put her through. What’d she say about my letter? Hell, what’d she say about everything?” I growl, sit up, drain the rest of the drink’s contents, slam it on my desk, and lean back. Then I pin his light-brown eyes with mine, trying to decide if I should go ahead and pop some Zantac now.
“What do you want me to tell you, Jacques?” He narrows his eyes tighter. “You want the truth? No, when I saw her last Tuesday, she wasn’t happy. She was a wreck. She wanted that time with you. She needed it, I would even wager to say. She fucking needed it, brother, and you didn’t give it to her. But, then again, she’s needed a lot from you and you wouldn’t give it to her. Whether because you couldn’t or wouldn’t—it doesn’t matter. She didn’t get what she needed, and now, because of it, she’s hurting. Something wicked, our little Pipsqueak is hurting. And there’s not a damn thing we can do to fix it.”
He shakes his head, and I’m fairly certain the last of my heart crumbles to chunks when he tells me what I already know.
“After a girl like her takes so much, she reaches a point. My dad used to tell me about how my sister was like a diamond when she was a little girl. Loralei was much younger than I was, but she never seemed that way. She always seemed so much older. Almost older than the adults, somehow. She’d had cancer from the time she was a baby. I think her first words were spoken when she was getting blood drawn at one of the special hospitals for kids. Anyway, my dad always said there were people out there, and the only ones he’d ever met were women, but they were all special in some way. And you knew this because they could take so much. Whatever life threw at them, they either took or dodged, and no matter what, over and over, they came out on top smiling. Not weakened, but slowly strengthened. He said his ma was like her too. A diamond. And they could just take and take until they couldn’t take anymore.
“And then, when the coal and the ore broke away, what you were left with was the transformation all that shit and all that pressure put on her...and in the end, when you look back, you realize she was a diamond all along. That’s what your Vagabond is, Jackie boy. And I’m telling you you just fucked it all up. That butterfly won’t be where you left her when you’re ready for her to come back. I know that shit. In the marrow of my bones, brother. I know that shit.”
He turns to leave, and as I try to muddle my way through all the shit he just spout at me, I come up short on the fucking answer I wanted to the goddamn question I specifically remember just asking.
“And the letter?! What the fuck did she say about the goddamn letter, bro?!”
Dreads doesn’t turn around as he leaves. He just throws his words at me. And I know a fucking grenade when I see one. Even when it’s as close as it is to the remains of my heart…
“She fucking didn’t, you idiot. My only guess is she’s tired of the riddles you keep trying to leave behind. She tore it up before reading it, bro. I’m heading out. I still gotta pack. I’ll text before I leave. Night.”
The door slams, leaving me alone with a shit-ton of information and answers that, I have to be honest and tell you, I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do with.
I’ve never been here before. I’ve never cared enough before. And, the one time I did, there wasn’t a kid in the picture. And I know where the fuck Ben is. I’ve got to, to keep not only her safe, but my kid now too. I don’t know how to tell you this shit, but I don’t think I’m the fucking man for this job anymore. I thought I would be; I thought I could do it.
I thought maybe…
But then the reality of the situation clears. And the further Ben falls down the rabbit hole, the more distance he puts between me and him, the more his escape seems inevitable.
And what if I can’t get him? Just because I know his whereabouts doesn’t mean I’ve got this shit locked in the bag. What happens if I mess up? Again?
As a man whose club that can be so tightly tied to countless missing young women and girls…I have no right overseeing the care of not only the woman I love, but the little girl we made.
None whatso-fucking-ever. And I’m sorry if you don’t understand that. I’m sorry if you hate me for the decisions I’ve had to make. But Eve’s a bright girl, as I’ve said before. She and Apple will be better without me in the picture. Eve will figure it out, and had I not known that, it would have hindered me from moving forward.
Instead, one week after my daughter’s birth, I make further peace with what my life has and will continue to become. What my father’s always should have been, had he not fought the loneliness so hard with substitutes for what he had with my mother…
I now know the difference between men like me and men like King, and it doesn’t have a damn thing to do with money, like Ben always used to say. Well, like all the men in my family used to say. It has to do with what it takes to be a good enough father. It has to do with knowing when it’s time to bow out. Something my father never learned to do. And something Ben hasn’t been smart enough to figure out.
There’s a vast difference in being a man and being a man who’s responsible enough to run an MC. And what my father and his brother never realized—though my father, I think, knew it someplace deep—is that you can’t let things like greed and need push your actions when you’re in charge of others’ lives. It makes things too confusing; it blurs the lines too much. The lines between what’s right and wrong, what’s for family and what’s for the good of it. And the difference between good and bad on a fundamental level. Knowing that just because something feels right doesn’t mean it is.
And, hopefully, one day, I’ll get a second chance with Apple. I know I’ll never get it with her mom. I know I’ve lost the only last chance I had with my Vagabond. And I’ve made peace with it.
I just pray to Christ I’m half the man Apple needs as a father when she comes looking for me. And, if she’s anything like her mother, she’ll be too curious. And she’ll come a lookin’. If I know the two people who made her, and I do, then I know it’s only a matter of time.
I straighten my cut and stand, not at all prepared but lying to myself about being ready for it. I’m about to look into Renee ‘King’s’ face and lie. But I’m cutting my limb off to spite my heart, so please forgive me when my words get caught in my throat as I answer King’s call from the steeple.
I cough twice. “This is Jacques. Headed your way, old man.”
“Good. We’re downstairs in the steeple as planned. Eve’s just boarded her plane with Dr. Lily. They should land before midnight. My cher bebe. God bless her and the tiny bebe. I ca
n’t wait till she’s back where she belongs.”
Me and you both, Renee.
“Dreads is heading out with us, correct?” he asks.
“Yes. Dreads is heading out. I’m not sure if he’s told you or not, but if Slim or Nails are needed, they’re at your disposal. Whatever we can do, King. I’m—” FUCK! I choke on my words.
“This isn’t your fault, son. I hope you know, if your pops were here, he’d tell you that. The shit your unc did, the shit Ben’s done to me and mine—those aren’t your sins, son. You understand that, yeah? You need to forgive yourself. No one else will if you won’t.”
His words raise the hair on my arms, and I squeeze my eyelids closed then blow out a breath.
“Yes, sir,” I say. “I believe my father told me that same shit. Repeatedly in the few months before his death, if I remember correctly. But that damn memory of mine. It’s fucking riddled with holes. I’m just attending this meeting to square away our shit. Make sure any water under the bridge is just that. Water. No blood. And, after Ben’s gone, there won’t be anyone else’s blood? Right?” I focus on the point before moving on to the next. The one that’ll need an entire meet-and-greet between the three of us to get around.
“Correct. No one’s but Ben’s.”
“And after... You’ll keep me informed? At any time, I’ll need full access to any pertinent information where Eve or Apple is concerned. You said it was my right, old man. One that was taken from you—one you wouldn’t ever take away from anyone else. Even from your own worst enemy. I need both of us to maintain the lines of communication if I’m gonna get through this without them. Tell me you understand me, King.”
His laugh did nothing to help my rattled nerves. “Their names fall off your tongue already so easily. I’m not sure which should alarm me more.” His chuckle turns into what I can only explain as the strongest fear-eliciting sound I’ve ever heard. “The fact that you expect me to grant your request …Your family? You said, son? I believe they are MY family. But that matter will be further discussed in our meeting. What I lost was taken. You’ve given your prize away. With both hands, you handed me my cher bebe, yeah?” His words cease for a moment. Then he says, “Five minutes, Jacques. I told my boys we were heading out in ten.”
Renee ends the call.
After I’ve buttoned my cut I run my hands over it’s soft leather. And then I head towards the steeple where this come to Jesus meeting is about to commence between my daughter’s grandfather and I.
It seems like the older I get, the faster my life goes by. Almost to the point that, while I’m conversing with someone or in the middle of doing anything—you name it, even jacking off—my train of thought bounces from one end of the broad spectrum to an entirely different one. With nothing more than a tick of the second hand. It’s like colors changing in a prism. The goddamn thoughts ping around in my head so fast. And the closer King and his men get, the more unstable I feel. I can hardly keep up with the pace these days.
Not with these scattering thoughts. And not with my constant frustration of having to deal with all of these motherfucking imbeciles my father called his “men.” I shudder as Gordy, the current pussy in front of me, whines again as he explains why I should stop the sale of his five-year-old niece to the Russian club’s auction next Saturday.
“I’ll find her. I’ll drive to fucking New Orleans if I have to and get the damn O’Malley girl back. I’m sorry, Bentley. I swore I could trust the guy my brother knew at the coroner. He said he looked at the paperwork. He said it was fucking Rox. I didn’t know the kid didn’t have a fucking clue what he was talking about!”
I cocked the gun before shaking my head back and forth. “No. That’s not going to work. You and what army, you fucking moron! There’s not enough of us! I told you to hand over the BIKES, Gordy! Not our fucking men! We’re down to what?” I grip the hair on the top of his head as I shove, walking him backwards towards the living room wall by the front door of the old barn house. “That puts us at three men now? Four including me?! And I can’t fucking go down there. I can hardly get on the main highways without a cop or a gang of bikes circling my shit. They’re everywhere! If it’s not the law, it’s the fucking outlaws! I can’t breathe, Gordy, and YOU are supposed to be my eyes and ears!” I stab at his forehead with the barrel of my gun. “But the info you’re giving me ain’t worth shit. And that makes you, worth shit.”
I press the gun harder against his skull and wink. It’s all threats at this point though, but he doesn’t know that. He doesn’t know I can’t afford to lose another man. And, if he does, he doesn’t show it.
What he does do is piss, which leaves a growing wet stain running down the front of his jeans.
I shove him the rest of the way away against the wall. “Get the fuck out of here.” I jerk my head at the door. “You’re not welcome back. I don’t give a shit if this was your pops’ land. It’s mine now. All of it is.”
“N-no! No! Fine! You can have it! Don’t kill me though, brother. Let’s get that shit in writing. Okay? Come on. Logic and reason. Let’s start there. I’ll leave. Quietly, I’ll leave,” he sputters before coming up onto his knees and placing his hands together as though he’s praying. “Please.” His eyes squeeze shut, and I roll mine before lowering the gun.
“Fine. Stand the fuck up. Finish telling me what the fuck you were saying before you fell the hell apart and cried and pissed yourself. I’m hungry. And horny. And I’m ready for you to leave. Stuttering Shawn just brought in a new stripper who needs an attitude adjustment. Nothing my eight inches and a branding iron won’t fix.” I chuckle, rubbing my hands together after holstering my gun under my cut. “Now.” I kick his knee, and his weight buckles before he can catch it, but he doesn’t fall. “You were saying about Rox? Is she alive? Or isn’t she?”
I don’t think I can accurately describe to you how vital his answer is. I need Rox to be okay. I need her to be safe and just unusually silent as of late. She’s the one who’s been with me. This entire time. She’s the one who helped me that first night when I ran into Pops in this same house, in those same basement quarters we kept Eve in all those months ago, for all that time. The same room where I found out my father wasn’t just as bad as Satan—that he was the man incarnate himself.
I’ll never forget how afraid I was that night. I’d fallen asleep in the back of my father’s old pickup truck. It couldn’t have been more than a week after those guys outside the compound had roughed me up while looking for my old man. The ones with the van? I’m not sure why, but other than kicking the shit out of me, something must have scared them off, because I heard Clutch and some of the older men holler, and a beat of time later, I was coughing up the dust as their van sped away.
I told Jacques about it, but he thought I was lying. Then the same shit happened the very next weekend. Except, this time, Aunt Jacqueline was so bad off that they admitted her to the hospital. And that’s when I wandered outside to make sure Jacques got into his father’s truck safe and sound and his pops came and picked him up. But, that night, when the van came screeching to a halt in the parking lot of the boneyard, I didn’t hit the bushes—that night, I hit the back of my father’s truck. And lay as still as I could for what felt like forever.
I didn’t move a muscle. Hell, I fell asleep! And I didn’t wake up until hours later, when the sun was coming up around the back side of this barn house.
I slowly crept inside the old house, slowly as I possibly freaking could. Never having been inside before, I didn’t know who or what I’d see first, but I knew one thing for sure: I didn’t want to be seen until I was ready.
And, at first, I suppose I saw exactly what I was supposed to see. Nothing. From the outside looking in, it just looked like a vacant house. One that had been abandoned if not for years then surely months. Only it didn’t smell abandoned, which I remember thinking was odd. Actually, if I recall...I think that’s the reason my feet carried me over the threshold even though I was scared t
o death.
I cleared the first floor and checked the second, and I was on my way out the way I had come in when the sound of a small child crying stopped me. Then I heard my father growl before he muttered something in a low voice from what seemed to be behind the old-timey fridge. When the broken board moved and revealed the light below, I hesitantly stepped forward. And the sight I saw... Even now, it causes bile to rise in my throat. The shit I saw my father doing to that poor little blond-headed girl crying, begging to know where her mother was... I still have a hard time believing it took me as long as it did to make him pay for the shit I saw him do to Eden that night.
That was before though. Before Rox and I had the boards removed and replaced with a hidden door that led to the basement. The very perfectly situated basement, too. As it’s come into use many times since. As it had been used many more times before that night by my old man.
The fear was different then. I guess it should have been, however. Things like learning you’re the spawn of Satan seem to lessen such unnecessary things as fear. And I knew that night, when I first met that little girl, that she’d be important. I just didn’t know how so. And, in the end, in her end...I guess she was important. However, I had a hard time realizing it at first. Until Rox found me crying behind the house. Her boyfriend had seen me slip into the back of the truck and was laughing at me back at the club with all the other wannabe prospects who hung around the MC when Archer Cain wasn’t around. And she came to check on me all the way out here, in upstate New York. She somehow knew where my father would be, where his truck would be, and she saved me.
That’s how deep my devotion to Roxy Bell runs, if it’s any unit of measure to you and yours. That’s how long I’ve owed Rox. Since I was that fucking young. Since Eden was that fucking young.
And, now, the least I can do is find out if she’s fucking dead or alive. It’s the least I can freaking do.
Before I Wake: A Kimber S. Dawn MC Novel Page 17