Facade: Facade

by Ashley Suzanne

  “I like Billie Holiday,” he said gruffly.

  “I like you,” I said spontaneously because I always said stuff spontaneously. “Do you want some peanuts?”

  “Sure, kid,” he said, smiling. “I’d love some.”

  I poured the rest of my peanuts into his hand, and he popped them all into his mouth at the same time.

  “Eva!”

  I jumped at the sound of my uncle Joe’s voice. He was walking briskly across the room toward me. Once he reached the table, not only did Uncle Joe looked pissed off, but so did my two new friends.

  “You got a death wish?” Uncle Joe whispered to the old man. “Horsemen are in good with the Demons. Let’s fuckin’ keep it that way.”

  “Ah,” the old man said, looking back at me. “You must be Preacher’s little girl. He’s talked ’bout you. Proud as fuck, he is.”

  I nodded proudly. “I am Preacher’s little girl. And I’m gonna be just like him when I grow up. I’m gonna have a Fat Boy, but I want mine to be sparkly, and I want a pink helmet with skulls on it. And instead of being the club president, I’m gonna be the club queen ’cause I’m gonna marry the biggest, scariest biker in the whole world, and he’s gonna let me do whatever I want because he’s gonna love me like crazy.”

  My uncle Joe burst out laughing, and the old man shook his head, smiling. The beautiful man turned to face me and leaned forward.

  “I’m gonna hold you to that,” he whispered.

  I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. I was captivated by the intensity I saw in his bright blue-and-white-flecked eyes. They reminded me of a frosted-over lake. He had beautiful icy blue eyes that sucked me in to a warm, safe place that I wanted to stay inside of forever.

  He stuck out his hand, breaking the spell. “Name’s Deuce, sweetheart. My old man here is Reaper. It was nice talkin’ with ya.”

  I put my hand in his, and his big fingers closed around mine. “Eva,” I whispered. “That’s my name, and it was so, so great to meet you, too.”

  He smiled. And his eyes smiled, too. I got lost again in his pretty eyes.

  Then Uncle Joe picked me up and threw me over his shoulder. “Isn’t that fuckin’ expensive-as-hell private school teachin’ you ’bout talkin’ to strangers?” he said. “Gonna have a talk with those prissy fuckers. Gonna have a talk with my fist.”

  “Bye,” I yelled, waving frantically as I was marched away.

  Reaper gave me a two-handed handcuffed wave and a big smile.

  Deuce got to his feet grinning and gave me a two-finger salute. “Bye, darlin’.”

  Darlin’.

  It was official. I was head over heels in love.

  • • •

  Deuce watched One-Eyed Joe, Silver Demon lifer, stalk off with Preacher’s kid hanging over his shoulder, grinning and waving like a lunatic. He shook his head and smiled. When he could no longer see her, he lost his smile and turned back to his old man.

  His old man had lost his smile, too.

  “Cute kid,” Reaper grumbled. “Shoulda had a girl instead of you two fucks.”

  He stared at his old man. He had a moment of longing, watching him smile at that kid and talk to her the way he should have talked to his own kids but never had. He’d been too busy beating on him and his brother.

  Good times.

  “Preacher’s on the move,” Reaper growled. “Takin’ that fuckin’ deal with the Russians right out from under you. Why the motherfuck didn’t you snap that shit down when you had the chance?”

  And there it was. He was VP, and that’s all he was to his old man. Someone to pass the fucking gavel to when he finally—and it couldn’t come fast enough—kicked it.

  “Preacher’s road chief beat me to it. Snagged that shit ’fore I even heard about it.”

  Reaper’s expression went glacial. “You’re such a fuckin’ fuckup. Shoulda made Cas VP. Shoulda had that fuckin’ cunt of a whore get ridda ya.”

  His mother had been a whore—not a streetwalker but a club whore. She was sixteen when his father knocked her up, his old man nearly thirty. After he was born, his old man kicked her to the curb with nothing but the clothes on her back. All he’d ever had of his mother was a gritty picture of a very young girl sitting on his old man’s Harley; Olivia Martin was written on the back. He liked to think that she started a new life somewhere else with someone who was nothing like his old man. Found some peace and a family who loved her.

  His younger brother, Cas, was the product of another knocked-up whore. Same story, different day.

  For twenty-three years, he’d been putting up with his shit. He’d had enough. Pushing out of his chair he stood up, placed his palms on the table, and leaned forward.

  “Nobody—and when I say nobody, I mean fuckin’ everybody—gives two fucks about what happens to you, you miserable shit. The club respects their prez, but not one of your boys gives a fuck whether you live or die. You got life, old man, and I been runnin’ shit in your absence. And seein’ as I been runnin’ shit a fuck of a lot better than you, I don’t have to come here. But I do outta fuckin’ respect, and I just lost the last shred of respect I had left.”

  “You little shit,” Reaper hissed. “You’re gonna pay—”

  “No. You’re gonna pay. Puttin’ the cash up for bids the minute I walk outta here.”

  Fear flashed through his old man’s eyes. He’d never seen anything sweeter.

  “Remember, you piece-of-shit fuck, when you’re bleedin’ out, that it was me who fuckin’ ordered it.”

  He turned away before his old man could say another word and strode through Rikers’ visiting room breathing hard, his heart pounding in his chest, determined to end that man.

  “Deuce!” a little voice squealed. He turned.

  Eva was gunning for him. Just before she reached him, she came skidding to a stop, breathing heavy, and thrust her hand out. “Didn’t get to share with you,” she said breathlessly.

  He bent down and closed his hand around a small bag of peanuts.

  His throat closed up.

  This kid, this little fucking kid who didn’t know him at all, had just given him his first gift with nothing expected in return, no favors, no stipulations, no nothing. He’d been wrong. There was something sweeter than seeing fear in his old man’s eyes. Eva was far sweeter. If he ever had a kid, he wanted a kid like this one.

  “Thanks, darlin’,” he said hoarsely.

  “Will I ever see you again?” She cocked her head to the side, wide-eyed, waiting for his response.

  He stared into her eyes, her phenomenal eyes that were too big for her face. Big and smoky gray like a thunderstorm. Fucking beautiful.

  He smiled. “Hope so, sweetheart.”

  She gave him a killer cute grin and bounced back to her old man and uncle—who were staring daggers at him—shaking those pigtails.

  After shoving the peanuts in his pocket, he left. First street pay phone he saw, he posted the hit. It took all of an hour, and he had a buyer. Three days later, his old man bled out in the showers.

  Coming Soon: Little Things by Madison Street

  This is an author to keep your eye on and I’m so proud of this fantastic author who’s going to make a splash come May 2014

  Prologue

  “Raya, come help us with the boxes. Bring them up into the spare room.”

  My mother is so organized and she can never have anything out of place. I groan loudly, bend down, and pick up a heavy ass box. “Yes, mother.” I make my way into the house and upstairs, only to trip on the steps. I hear the box crash onto the ground and the glasses inside make a cracking noise.

  Shit, I hope he didn’t hear that. I look around to see if Craig is nearby. Luckily, I don’t see him anywhere and breathe a sigh of relief. I get up to inspect the box; looks like a few of the picture frames cracked. Damn, I’ll need to hide them and replace them before Craig finds out. I make my way into my room and hide the broken frames in my dresser, underneath my folded shirts. I hurry over to t
he spare room and leave the box there. My mother can go through its contents and put them where they belong.

  I hate moving. This is our third move in two years. Our last location was Connecticut and apparently, Craig thinks that living in The Bronx will be better for us. The crowds will help him blend. My mom married Craig when I was ten, a few years after my dad died. Craig takes care of everything; the bills, the food, the location of where we live. He decides everything for us. My only free choice is my choice of appearance. I guess I can be grateful I get to pick out my own clothes.

  I head back downstairs to help my mom and Craig with the remaining boxes.

  “What took so long?” he asks as I pick up the final box.

  “Nothing, I was just looking around.”

  His dark eyes pierce into my soul as Craig tries to figure out if I’m lying or not. I feel his stare on me and cringe. He makes me so uncomfortable and my skin begins to crawl. I feel goose bumps and the hair on my arm sticks up. I quickly look away and make my way inside the house.

  “Raya, head upstairs and fix up your room. I’ll call you down for dinner when it’s ready.” Craig comes up from behind me, takes the box away, and has a sly look on his face.

  “Okay, sure. Just let me know.” I race up the stairs and shut my door. I bounce on top of my twin-size bed and stare at the ceiling. I can’t wait till I turn eighteen and move the hell out of this place. If I can, I’m taking my mother with me. Craig treats me like shit, but he treats my mother even worse. Everything has to be his way and if you have a problem with it; then he makes you see his way. He doesn’t deserve my mother and I know she’s too scared to leave. Throughout the years the occasional yelling turned into daily arguments, which escalated into fights and broken household items. I’m not even sure if she loves him anymore; I doubt it. How can she? Craig is a monster. He pulls off this facade that everything is fine. His peers and colleagues have no idea what happens at home.

  A shallow tear escapes the corner of my eye and trickles down the side of my face. One more year Raya. Just one more year. I coach myself to keep on hope, never give up faith that my mother and I can escape this prison. I turn over and lay on my side and close my eyes. I dream of a place where I can be free to do anything I desire. To have friends, go out on dates, heck; to even see a movie.

  “Raya, time for dinner. Get down here now!” My eyes shoot open at the sound of Craig’s demand. I look outside and see it has gotten darker. Shit, I must have fallen asleep. I jump off my bed, race to the bathroom and wash my face. I can’t look like I’ve napped without permission. I quickly grab a towel and dry my face. I glance in the mirror and do a quick inspection of my appearance. My long brown hair has curls touching my mid-back and I comb my fingers through it to take out the frizz. My blue eyes look heavy and glassy; like I’ve just woken up. Shit! I glance down to see my light blue shirt wrinkled. Fuck! I race to my dresser, pull out a new shirt, and quickly change. I inspect myself in the mirror one more time and have to pray this is good enough.

  I race out of the room and downstairs to meet them in the dining room. The table is already set and Craig is sitting at the end. My mother is patiently waiting to eat in the seat next to him.

  “Well, what took you so long this time?” Craig asks. He folds his arms across his chest and I could practically see his face turn a dark red.

  I look down at the table and talk with a low and feeble voice. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to take so long. It won’t happen again.”

  “What were you doing in your room?” He insists on getting to the bottom of this.

  “Craig, please let’s just eat. The food is getting cold.” My mother pleads with him and touches his arm, offering a kind gesture. I head over to sit next to her and stare at Craig who is glaring at my mother.

  “Genna, I didn’t ask you to say anything. Your daughter is not responding to my question and frankly, I want to know why.” He glares at me and I still with fear. I can’t get the words out as my throat begins to close and I feel the tears building.

  He quickly retreats out of his chair and heads up the stairs towards my room. My mother and I race behind him. Craig enters my room and as I enter behind him, I notice my dresser drawer is open. Craig notices the open drawer and heads towards it. My breathing stops as I begin to panic. The broken frames are in there. Shit. I turn to my mom and plead for her to make him stop. She gives me a look, nods and grabs hold of my hand; she’s on my side.

  Craig dives into the open drawer and starts tossing around the folded shirts.

  “Craig sweetie, let’s go eat dinner. Raya will clean this up afterwards okay?” She lets go of my hand and walks up behind Craig and places her hand on his shoulder.

  “Genna, shut the fuck up or I will make you!” he growls as he reaches a broken frame. He stops digging and takes out the shattered glass. It’s a picture of him and my mother at Atlantic City.

  “What happened Raya?” he barks at me.

  I gain the last shred of courage I have and respond, “I tripped on the stairs with the boxes earlier. I plan on fixing the frames; honestly.” He takes the frame and throws it across the room shattering it against the wall. The glass sprays all across the floor as I jump from the noise.

  “Craig, it was an accident. Raya will pay for the other frames. Let’s just forget about this.” My mother pleads with Craig as he stalks towards me. She gets in between us and puts her hands up to him.

  “Craig, stop! It was an accident!”

  I begin to cry because I know what’s coming for me. Suddenly, he stops walking towards me. He then looks at my mother and slaps her across the face, causing her to fall on the floor onto the broken glass.

  “I told you to shut the fuck up woman! How dare you defy me?”

  I race towards my mom and help her get up. “Mom, are you okay?” She glances at me and I notice blood dripping down the side of her cheeks and her hand is cut.

  “I’m fine honey; promise.”

  No, this is not fine. I stare at Craig who is chuckling with evil laughter. “How dare you touch her? You have no right to hit a woman. I’m calling the police!” I let go of my mother and get my cellphone out of my jeans pocket.

  Craig snatches the phone and snarls into my ear, “You call the police and I will hurt her for real next time.”

  My body is frozen with shock and fear. I glance up into his eyes and realize he is not lying. He will hurt her if I call for help. I can’t be the reason for my mother’s pain; I will not cause it. I can’t live without my mother and I will do everything I can to help her.

  “Okay, I won’t call them,” I surrender. I head towards my mother and assist her off the floor. She needs to get cleaned up before the blood dries up. “Come on, let’s go clean you up.” I begin to lead her into my bathroom, until Craig grabs her from me.

  “Actually, I’m not done with your mother.”

  My heart stops and my jaw drops. “What! You said you wouldn’t hurt her!”

  He grabs a hold of my hair and tosses me onto the bed. “Don’t worry Raya, I don’t plan on hurting her”.

  He chuckles as he exits the room with my mother in his grasp and shuts the door. I race to the door and try to pull it open, but it’s locked. I pull and pull but it doesn’t budge open. Shit. He must have added locks when I was asleep.

  I start banging on the door, “Mom! Mom!!”

  My screams echo throughout the room and the only response to my plea is silence.