Unsound

by Chantal Fernando

  “How’d you know it was Augustus?” Bobby interrupts, the words leaving his mouth before I could speak them.

  “I met the guy Babs’ niece was dating once. I knew he was one of Augustus’ boys by the green bandana,” Locks replies casually. I turn my head to the side and eye Locks. He knew Babs would not settle for not redeeming her niece’s honor, knew the trap she would walk into, the war the club would wander in. The ultimate fate of it all, killing the woman I love, and nearly killing my daughter in the process.

  “Anyway, I came to Augustus with a deal, and in return, I would be protected from his retaliation,” Locks continues, his tone as casual as can be. He made a deal? A deal behind my back?

  “What deal?” I ask, my eyes raised with tension. I can’t believe what the hell I’m hearing.

  “He gave me the location of every one of your girls,” Augustus informs. My nose flares with pent-up aggression. I’ll kill him. “In fact, if Lover Boy hadn’t shown up, your daughter might have died in that night club.” He looks at some guy standing beside him, the guy who Shadow said was harassing Dani at some party a ways back. “But Lover Boy was a blessing in disguise. If I had killed your daughter, I wouldn’t have been able to make this deal, now would I?” Augustus remarks. I turn and face Locks. He sold my daughter out, sold my club from under my feet. Why?

  “You betrayed me,” I growl.

  “You did it to yourself. You let club business come second when your daughter showed up, throwing everyone in jeopardy,” Locks spits, his face turning red from anger.

  “Either way, he has to be dealt with,” Augustus prompts, pulling a pistol from his suit jacket.

  He aims his weapon at Locks. I can’t decide if I like the idea that he is going to kill Locks, or if I’m pissed it’s not me ending his life.

  The gun fires, and in an instant, Locks pulls Shadow in front of him, protecting himself from the bullet. I rush forward to grab Shadow, even when I know there is no way I’ll reach him in time. Suddenly Shadow wipes out, falling to the ground before I can reach him. I look at Shadow, looking for any signs of pain or blood, when I hear a disgruntled cough. My head snaps to the side finding Bobby lying on the ground holding his side in obvious pain. Bobby knocked Shadow out of the way protecting him, and taking the bullet in the process. Fuck!

  Shadow crawls, stumbling to get to Bobby. He slowly lifts Bobby’s head and puts it in his lap.

  “What the fuck were you thinking, man?” Shadow asks, his tone dripping with fear and anger. I turn and look at Locks, who’s staring right back at me, not a glimpse of regret present. Any thoughts I may be irrational in wanting to kill him are gone. He just threw a brother in the line of fire to protect himself. He doesn’t care about this club, the term brother having no sentimental value to him. I wouldn’t put it past him to throw me in front of a bullet. I look down and notice Bobby bleeding uncontrollably, more blood than just a bullet to the arm would cause. I grab my phone and dial an ambulance. I am vague in my details. I tell an operator to just send an ambulance and the warehouse’s location, and hang up.

  “I called an ambulance. They’ll be here soon, son, hang in there,” I inform Bobby. I close my eyes, trying to think. What the hell has happened to my club? What has happened to me as a president to let so much shit slip under my eyes the last couple of months?

  “Think I’m pretty fucked up,” Bobby groans, grabbing my attention from my self-pity. His face clenches and blood seeps out beneath him. He doesn’t look good. I take my gaze from the man I watched grow from a child to Augustus. He’s rubbing his face with both his hands, his eyes carrying a regretful look as he eyes Bobby and Shadow. I look back down at Bobby, noticing the blood not letting up as Bobby moans in pain.

  “You can do this, brother,” Old Guy encourages Bobby.

  I kneel on the cold floor, the cement digging into my knees, and press my hand to his wound, trying to apply as much pressure as I can, but warm blood just seeps right past my fingers with no hesitation. I push harder, putting my whole body into it, slowing it down just a little bit.

  “I stopped it some, but it’s not going to help for long,” I say, looking at Bobby’s face. I literally see the life slipping from him. Where is that fucking ambulance? I look back at my hands, which are slipping on each other from the blood, and back up to Bobby. His eyes are closed and his mouth lax.

  “No, Bobby!” Shadow yells when he notices Bobby’s eyes are closed. He gives Bobby a shake, but Bobby doesn’t respond. I pull my bloody hands from his belly, my knees soaked with blood. Bobby is gone. I close my eyes, the ache of losing Bobby twisting itself deep in my chest. Shadow whimpers, trying to wake Bobby, but it’s no use.

  Shadow stands, wipes his face with a bloody hand, and looks at Augustus. Before I can stop him, he grabs the gun from his waist and points it at Augustus. Men all around pull their guns out, pointing them at us.

  “You killed my family,” Shadow says calmly, his tone scaring the shit out of me. He won’t take Bobby’s death without someone paying. The term brother between Shadow and Bobby is nothing short of family, beyond the club and deeper than blood.

  “He jumped in front of my bullet meant for a traitor,” Augustus informs casually. “He killed your brother,” Augustus says, pointing behind us. I turn around and find Locks, who is nothing short of calm.

  This is all his fault. He killed Babs. He got Dani hit, and used another brother for a fucking shield instead of protecting them. Within a second, Shadow switches his aim from Augustus to Locks. My body tenses, waiting for the fire of his weapon. He pulls the trigger, the bullet lodging right in Locks’ chest. The corners of Locks’ eyes grow wrinkles as he looks down at the blood spilling from his chest. I look up at the ceiling, silently praying to Babs, and then grab my gun just as Shadow raises his to take the final shot. Before I let him take the last breath from Locks, I raise my gun and aim at Locks.

  “This is for Babs,” I whisper and pull the trigger. A bullet implants itself right into Locks’ throat.

  Locks falls to the ground, landing on his back. I can’t look away. I need to know he is suffering, like Babs suffered, like he made everyone suffer. Blood splutters from the bullet hole in his throat; he is drowning in blood, much like the blood he shed from his betrayal.

  “Now that’s over, are we done here?” Augustus says, hearing sirens near.

  “Not quite,” Shadow snarls. My eyes widen when I see him point his gun at one of Augustus’ men. He is going to get everyone of us killed. I grip my gun tighter, ready to protect anyone of my men, when I realize Shadow is about to kill the man who chased down Babs and Dani. A loud bang echoes through the building as Shadow fires a bullet at the guy, causing him to fall down the stairs. My hand feathers the trigger, ready to fire if Augustus retaliates. Augustus looks at us and back at George.

  “I was going to get rid of him anyway; he can’t follow orders. Call it insurance for our new business transaction,” Augustus states, shrugging. My eyes widen with surprise as I look at Shadow, who is staring down at Bobby with grief. I need to get him out of here before he kills everyone in this shithole.

  “I’ll call you with the details, Bull,” Augustus hollers, walking out of the building with his thugs in tow.

  “We should have killed him,” Shadow says, watching Augustus walk away. I wanted to kill him too, wanted to make him pay for the orders he gave his men. But in retrospect, I would have ordered the same if a bunch of women came on my turf and hurt my family.

  “If we touch him, his men would kill every one of us and everyone we know,” I remark. Besides, this all lands on Locks. I walk up to Locks’ body, his face and neck stained in a thick layer of blood. How well do you really know a person? I thought I knew Locks; I grew up with him. Where did it all go wrong? He killed the love of my life. Hell gave me a second chance at having a family, and Locks took it all away.

  “Lust like a saint, trust like a sinner,” I whisper. Words I preach by, but can’t seem to follow myself.
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br />   It’s been a year since Babs’ death, since the club was turned upside down by a man I considered a friend, more than that really, he was family. As much as he deserved to die, I miss the fucker. More than anything, I miss Babs. She brought something out of me, something I thought I lost with Dani’s mother. Sure, I could have any bitch around here, but they just don’t measure up to Babs. So to say I have fallen as far as Hell can go, is an understatement. I can’t bring myself away from the bottle long enough to take care of myself, let alone run this club. Thankfully, Shadow has taken charge in my absence. I can’t help it. I can’t stop myself from waking up and instantly wanting to numb the pain slicing through my soul. I know I did this to myself, created this never-ending abandonment, probably more than anyone. If I had taken Babs under my wing, told the club about us, she would have come to me with her problems. I would have handled her niece’s attack, keeping her out of danger.

  Lady, another one of my failures, I should have ran after her when we were younger and she left. Maybe then she wouldn’t have hated me so much and I would have been there for Dani growing up. Locks, the man I grew up with. I messed with his ol’ lady and he died by my hand. I sigh and pull the near empty bottle of whiskey to my lips and down what’s left of it. Why can’t I numb myself? Why can’t I protect my club? Why can’t I do a lot of things right? I grew up watching my dad handle this club with ease, but it seems all I am doing is destroying it, breaking it in pieces, much like myself. I stumble down the hall and fall into a warm body.

  “Damn, Prez, you okay?” Bobby asks, concerned, holding me up. I pull from his grip and look into those blue eyes that look like they belong to a woman.

  “I’m fine!” I slur, my attempt to yell lacking. I look back at him and feel regretful for yelling at him. He went through Hell taking a bullet for Shadow; he is truly a brother of this club. After Bobby returned from the hospital, I made Shadow my vice president, and Bobby is always at his side in decision making.

  I slide against the wall until my ass hits the floor. I love this club, but it has taken two loves and a best friend from me. I deserve the right to drink myself into oblivion. I’m too old for this shit anymore.

  “You don’t look so well, man.”

  I look up and see Bobby standing over me. He’s still here?

  “Fuck off,” I mumble, lifting the bottle for a drink, only to find an empty bottle. Shit, I already drank it all.

  I close my eyes, slump sideways, and blackness follows.

  *****

  “Bull.” I hear a sweet voice sound from within the darkness claiming my eyes.

  “Bull, wakeup.” Babs? Is that Babs? I see her red hair, her green eyes smiling back at me. A sob escapes my mouth.

  “I miss you so much. I fucking love you. I should have done everything so different,” I wail, my words slurred with sleep.

  “Bull!”

  My eyes dart open to nothing but bright lights and blurry vision.

  “Bull can you hear me?” Doc asks, shining a bright fucking light in my face.

  “Yes, get the hell off me!” I yell, pushing her hand away holding a flashlight.

  “How much have you had drink?” she asks, picking up the empty bottle next to me.

  “I’m not drinking anymore,” I slur, my head pounding and mouth dry. I smirk and look at Doc’s concerned face. “Then again, I ain’t drinking any less,” I laugh, still drunk.

  She purses her lips and scowls. “I need to get an IV in him,” she informs someone. Who, I don’t fucking know. I can’t even see past her.

  “Yeah, you do what you need to, doll,” I mutter and succumb to darkness.

  *****

  I wake up in my bed, my body feeling sore as hell, and the feeling to throw up overbearing.

  I smell a faint tone of soap, causing me to look around for the source. I pull my shirt to my nose and sniff, noticing clean clothes. I run my hands through my hair to find it has been washed and combed.

  “Did someone fucking bathe and dress me?” I question in disbelief, growing angry. I’m a grown man; I don’t need dressing and bathing.

  “You smelled really bad, and your penis isn’t that impressive, so don’t worry, I didn’t fondle it.” I look up and see Doc walking into the room with her medical bag, her blonde hair down, wearing blue scrubs.

  I snort. “Don’t act like I don’t have a bull’s dick,” I remark, staring at her.

  “I see your sense of humor is still with you,” she says with a smile.

  She sits on the bed and looks at me with furrowed brows.

  “I’m worried about you, Bull,” she informs gravely. I remember when she came to the club in shitty shape years back, knocking on death’s door with a little blonde-haired girl at her knees. If it wasn’t for me, she’d be as good as dead. Both of them.

  “How’s your daughter?” I ask, changing the subject. She looks away. She doesn’t like to talk about her daughter, doesn’t bring her to the club either. She is a protective mother, a good mother.

  “Don’t worry about me, darlin’,” I inform her, trying to sit up. She nods and looks back at me with serious eyes.

  “Bull, have you thought about therapy?”

  I can’t help the laugh that escapes me. “What do you think I’ve been doing?” I ask.

  “Booze and drugs are not a form of therapy,” she clips, her face scrunched in anger.

  “So you say,” I snarl.

  She looks away and huffs. “I think I know why they call you Bull; you’re bull headed,” she mutters, making me laugh.

  “I refuse to believe this is it for you, Bull. You look so broken and unhappy,” she mumbles, sliding her hand up and down my arm in sympathy. I am broken and unhappy. I can’t keep my club safe, failing as a president, and I lost the woman I love. I loved Babs, still do. I blame myself for my fucked-up life. I should have told everyone about me and Babs, dealt with the blowback. I caused my unhappiness, paved my road of misery.

  “There is no happily ever after for Bull, darlin’,” I say gravely, being honest.

  Doc’s head whips in my direction, her sweet round face scowling with disapproval. “I refuse to believe that,” she snaps. “Everyone said Babs and the girls did what they did because of some niece,” she says, looking at me for confirmation.

  “Yeah, so?” My tone urging her to get on with what she’s getting at.

  “So have you tried to connect with her? If she has a niece, she has to have a brother or sister. Have you talked to them?” she asks, her tone laced with sincerity. At Babs’ funeral, it was just the club, no family had arrived, and nobody knew how to contact any.

  “I don’t know how to get ahold of any of them,” I inform her.

  “Yeah, the only person on her emergency list was Locks,” Doc informs. I look at her, an idea popping in my head.

  “What about her niece’s contact list, who is on that?” I ask, my face lighting up with hope.

  “Babs was on the list, but it was just updated not too long ago. I don’t have access to previous files,” she says, a frown on her face.

  “So, find out how to get them,” I suggest, shrugging.

  Her face twists in thought before she finally smiles. “You mean pull a Devil’s Dust and work my way in, pay people off?” she says with humor.

  “Exactly,” I reply seriously.

  Her face goes from a smile to serious. “What?” she says, confused.

  “Pay off whoever you need. I’ll give you the damn money. Do whatever needs to be done to get to those files,” I pause. “I am fucking this club up left and right. It has taken its toll on me breaking me, as much as I have broken it. I need something to hope for, doll,” I say, my tone nothing but desperate and needy.

  She looks away and lowers her head, running her hand through her long blonde hair before looking at me. “I’ll do it. For you, Bull. Maybe you can find some kind of closure to all this,” she remarks.

  That’s highly unlikely.

  *****


  Three Weeks Later

  I sit behind the wheel of my black SUV staring at a three-story house. The paint is chipping and worn to the nub. The window at the top of the house broken and is boarded up shitty. Sitting on the front porch is a broken down flannel couch with a lopsided table sitting beside it. I groan, run my hands through my hair, and look at the paper in my hands with the address. It took Doc three weeks to get me anything I could use to find Babs’ niece or sister. The first try cost me five grand for Doc to pay off someone to get into old records. I got a few phone numbers off Babs’ sisters contact list, but they all were disconnected, so that came up empty handed. Last week, Doc came to me and told me she had one last piece of information she could find, Babs’ niece Scarlett’s medical records. It showed several visits of drug overdose; she is a junky. I looked at her information for hours. The folder said she had red hair, green eyes, weighed one hundred and four pounds, and was five feet three inches tall, and she has just turned twenty-one. With that information, I put feelers out for a redheaded young woman hitting up drug dealers or crack houses. I was given several locations, but they all ended up in a dead end.

  I look away from the paper in my hand and back at the shitty house. This is the last place in California that Scarlett could be; the last house I was given. I grab my gun, put it in my waistband, and get out of the car. It’s time to see what curse of Hell life has handed me this time.

  I walk up the shitty stairs. Every step of my boots, every step I take, the boards creak and moan, warning it may break at any moment. I walk up to the door and stop. What if she isn’t in here? What do I do to try and move forward? The wind blows and a rancid smell crosses my path. It smells toxic, like plastic burning, crack. I run my hands through my hair anxiously as I pull the handle and push the door open.

  The soft sound of Johnny Cash singing “Hurt” greets me along with that rancid smell. The smell so strong it makes me cough and my eyes water. I cover my face with the crook of my arm and head in. The lighting is dim and smoky, making it hard to see. Looking over, I see a scratched up table full of spoons, pipes, bongs, and lighters. A couch placed behind it with two naked females and one older male in-between, all passed out. None of the girls are redheads, one a blonde and one with purple hair. I move to the opposite side of the house, looking for Scarlett. I trip, my hands catching my fall on a stair. Looking down at what the hell I tripped on, I see it is someone wearing a beanie and sleeping on the ground wrapped up in a sleeping bag.