After spending six years locked up in High Desert State Prison, I didn’t want to face what I’d left behind in Vegas so I made my way to California and busted my ass to get on my own two feet again. In hindsight, I was thankful my parole requests had been repeatedly denied and I was required to serve my entire sentence, at least with my full sentence served, I wasn’t subject to parole. I’d managed to keep myself out of trouble on the west coast, but I wasn’t so sure I’d have been able to say the same if I was forced to stay in Vegas. My home state hadn’t done anything but throw the book at me after seeing my juvenile criminal history, and frankly, I couldn’t blame them for it. On paper, I was a lost cause.
Son of a single mother straddling the poverty line, in and out of juvie since I was fifteen with a long list of behavioral issues—my rap sheet read like a how-to guide for career criminals. The story the list of charges and convictions didn’t tell was one of a kid just trying to survive in a world of impossible obstacles. But I wasn’t that kid anymore, I was coming home a man, hardened by the system and prepared to do whatever was necessary to make sure the people I loved were safe.
A giant knot had formed in my stomach while listening to Sawyer’s voicemail this morning and it hadn’t let up during the last eleven hours on the road. The room was spinning and my body ached from a night of heavy drinking and self-pity when I checked my messages, but my little brother’s frantic plea for help was more than enough to sober me. As soon as I heard him say her name, I was on my feet and stuffing clothes in a bag.
If anyone could drag me back to this shithole, it was Ellis James. She was my kryptonite. Had been since we were ten.
“Hey new girl,” I said, reaching over the back of the seat and tugging on one of her braids.
She slapped my hand away, but didn’t turn around.
Sawyer snickered next to me. “Oh burn!”
“Shut up,” I said, punching him hard in the thigh.
“Ow! I’m gonna tell mom!”
“Whatever, cry baby,” I said, turning my attention back to the girl. Her dark hair was parted down the middle, the two sides braided close to her head. I wanted her to talk to me, but I wasn’t exactly sure why.
Reaching over the seat once again, I tugged on the other braid. “Hey, I’m Nixon, what’s your name?” I asked.
“Leave me alone,” she said, swatting at my hand again.
She still hadn’t turned around, but at least she was talking. Her voice was pretty, soft and sweet even when she was being rude.
“I just wanna talk,” I said, getting on my knees so I could lean over her seat.
She crossed her arms over her chest and refused to look at me even though I was leaning halfway over her seat. “C’mon. Tell me your name,” I pressed, getting in her space.
I was waiting for her to stop ignoring me when the bus jerked to a stop and I almost fell into her lap.
“Nix, it’s our stop,” Sawyer hissed, stepping into the aisle.
Falling back into my seat, I searched for my backpack that had been at my feet before our sudden stop. Peering underneath the seats, I saw the red canvas bag two rows ahead and just out of reach. Popping back up, I was going to ask the girl if she could reach it, but she was gone.
“Nix, c’mon!” Sawyer called.
Looking up, I saw my brother was almost to the front of the bus, the girl with the braids just ahead of him. Darting out into the aisle, I stopped to snatch up my backpack from the floor before hustling to catch up with them.
“Hey!” I yelled, leaping onto the cracked sidewalk in front of our apartment complex. Sawyer waited for me, but the girl kept walking as if she hadn’t heard me.
I ran after her, intent on at least finding out her name. “I didn’t know you lived in our complex,” I huffed, reaching out and grabbing a handful of her pink backpack.
Without warning, she spun around and punched me right in the face. The hit surprised me and I lost my balance, unfortunately for the girl, I still had a hold on her backpack. We both crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs, scraping knees and elbows as we connected with the concrete.
Groaning, I pushed up into a sitting position, rubbing at the soreness in my jaw. “Ow, what was that for?” I asked, shooting a glare at the girl.
Glassy brown eyes stared up at me for a beat before she scrambled backward. “You scared me,” she whispered, her body frozen.
She reminded me of Mrs. Glenn’s cat Binky when Sawyer cornered her—like she was going to make a run for it at any second.
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” I mumbled, getting to my feet.
She followed suit, taking two steps backward like she didn’t trust me not to hit her back. I wouldn’t do that though, I knew better. You don’t hit girls, ever.
“You shouldn’t grab people like that, it’s not nice,” she said, taking another step away.
My gaze drifted to Sawyer who was watching us with wide eyes. Sighing, I brushed the gravel from my palms and offered the girl a small smile. “Sorry.”
Nodding once, she turned on her heel and quickly walked in the opposite direction from our building.
“Can’t believe you let a girl beat you up!” Sawyer snickered before she’d even gotten out of earshot.
“Shut up, butthead!” I said, punching him in the arm.
“Ow! You’re a butthead,” he complained.
“It’s Ellis,” a voice said above Sawyer’s whining. My head snapped up and I had to shield my eyes from the afternoon sun to see the girl had stopped by one of the carports.
“What?” I called back, confused.
“My name. It’s Ellis,” she yelled before immediately turning and running away again, her pink backpack bouncing with every step.
That’s all it took. A punch in the face when I was ten and Ellis James had owned me ever since. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t seen her in almost eight years, her hold on me was the same either way.
Reminiscing about the past had me so preoccupied, I barely noticed when the landscape started to change—manicured lawns and housing developments giving way to cluttered front lawns and crumbling apartment complexes. My old stomping grounds left much to be desired. The crime rate nearly tripled in the five-mile stretch of Savannah Heights compared to the rest of the city. It was a wonder any of us made it out alive.
I slowed, searching for the address Sawyer had given me. Half the house numbers were missing, but thanks to years of filth and grime, I could still make out the outline of where most of them had been under the dim street lights. Finding the right one, I pulled into the driveway of a tan house. A rusted-out Volkswagen bug on blocks decorated the front lawn, plastic sheeting covered the windows, and the stucco on the exterior of the home was cracked and deteriorating. All in all, it was a dump.
Cutting my engine, I walked to the front door, keeping one eye on my ride, just in case. I wasn’t about to leave my custom Harley in the driveway unattended. When there was no answer, I fished my phone out of my pocket and dialed my brother for the fiftieth time since I’d gotten his message. For the first time all day, he actually answered.
“Bro!” Sawyer shouted over the sound of thumping music.
I sighed, feeling the familiar headache I got whenever I had to deal with Sawyer’s bullshit starting to form behind my eyes. “Where the fuck are you?” I snapped. He didn’t sound scared and panicked like he had in the voicemail, instead, it sounded like he was at a fucking party.
Sawyer had been sparse on the details, and considering the fact that he wasn’t waiting for me, I was starting to wonder how urgent the situation with Ellis really was. The hours on the road suddenly weighed heavily on me.
“What? I can’t hear you,” Sawyer yelled into the phone. There was a rustling sound before the background music quieted and he spoke again. “Sorry about that, what’s up bro?”
“I’m at your fucking house. You left me a crazy ass voicemail and then didn’t answer your phone all day, where the fuck else would I be?” I di
dn’t have the patience for niceties, I was well on my way to skull-cracking pissed off. Not even an hour within the city limits and I was already itching to split town.
“Oh shit, my phone was dead,” Sawyer said on a nervous laugh.
“And you didn’t think to call me back when it was charged?” I asked, pulling out a pack of smokes from my jacket. I didn’t need to worry about carcinogens killing me, my brother would get the job done a hell of a lot faster.
“I just lost track of time, dude, chill. I had to see a guy about somethin’, I’ll be there in fifteen.”
“Fine,” I barked, ending the call.
Sometimes I wondered if we were really related. I was a shit when I was younger, but I fucking grew up, Sawyer clearly hadn’t figured that out yet. Lighting my cigarette, I walked back to the driveway, taking the opportunity to stretch my legs. Riding straight from Sacramento to Vegas while nursing a hangover from hell was not the way I planned to spend my Saturday.
I kept my head on a swivel as I waited, tagging the three guys in hoodies at the corner. They couldn’t have been more than eighteen, just kids really. They weren’t even trying to hide the fact that they were dealing. I couldn’t judge too harshly though, I’d been there once, hustling just to get by.
Life wasn’t easy on the poverty stricken anywhere, and Vegas was no exception. Our story was as old as time. Dad split when I was barely a year old and before Sawyer was even born, and Mom had to figure out how to keep her head above water with a toddler and a newborn in tow. It was hard, but she made it work. Our clothes weren’t new, and birthday parties were a rarity, but there was food in the fridge and a roof over our heads. Of course, in order to provide us with those things, Mom had to work three jobs which meant Sawyer and I were on our own more often than not.
By the time I was twelve, I’d started selling dime bags for a local dealer named Marco—it wasn’t a lot, but it lined my pockets enough to buy the things I wanted. When my mom asked about the new gaming system and clothes, I told her I’d been mowing lawns after school. She knew I was full of shit, but it’s not like she was around enough to actually stop me.
Ellis was in the same boat, daughter of a single mother just trying to make ends meet. Naturally, without sufficient adult supervision, the three of us became a unit, we did everything together. As I got older and started pulling in more weight for Marco, Ellis and Sawyer acted as my lookouts and I split my cut with them. I never let them deal or even hold product, if anyone was going to get popped it was going to be me.
Which is exactly what happened, multiple times. I’d been in and out of Juvie since I was fifteen for everything from possession to assault. I wouldn’t be surprised if my picture was listed under the word delinquent in the dictionary. I tried to clean up my act, or at least be more careful after my last stint at seventeen, but it didn’t last long.
The fucked up part was that they threw the book at me on a bogus charge—at least, technically. I’d been sentenced to six years for assault with a deadly weapon, and sure, I’d beaten the fuck out of the guy, but I had a reason. Of course, given my history, my word meant next to nothing in court, and the evidence was enough to convince a judge.
I didn’t regret the beat down, the fucker deserved it for laying hands on Ellis, but I did regret putting her in the situation in the first place. As much as I tried to protect her, being in my orbit put her in danger. Everything I touched turned to shit, but she deserved better. It’s why I left town as soon as I could after my release.
It wasn’t easy to up and leave everything I’d ever known, but something in my gut told me I had to go. Vegas had a way of sucking people dry and leaving them for dead, if I stayed, I’d end up another statistic. Running in the same circles, getting up to the same old shit, and dragging everyone within reach down with me. It was safer for everyone if I stayed away. Especially Ellis. At least that’s what I thought, but given what Sawyer had said in his message, Ellis had found a way to buy trouble all on her own.
The longer I waited, the more I started to wonder if Ellis wasn’t the only one in trouble. I knew my brother well enough to know his M.O. Sawyer had a knack for getting himself into sticky situations, always had. I hadn’t seen him since last year when we’d visited Mom in Colorado for Christmas. She met Clark, a podiatrist from Denver, a few years ago and within six months they were married. He was a nice enough guy, and treated her well which was more than I could say for most of her past relationships.
Fifteen minutes turned into an hour and I was about to find some fleabag hotel to crash in when I saw headlights heading my way. Sawyer pulled the same shitty Cadillac he’d had since high school into the driveway next to my bike.
“Bro! Long time no see,” he said, climbing from the hooptie.
“Still just as ugly as ever,” I said, pulling him in for a back-slapping hug.
I wanted to enjoy our reunion, but I couldn’t stop myself from noticing he’d lost weight since the last time I’d seen him. I hoped to hell he wasn’t using.
“Got room for my bike in the garage?” I asked, pulling away and taking him in. Dark circles hung heavy beneath his eyes and he was paler than usual, making him look like a zombie version of himself.
“Uh, yeah. For sure, man,” he said, patting his pockets until he found his keys. Unlocking the padlock that secured the garage door, he opened it up and kicked a few boxes out of the way to make room.
I walked my bike into the space he’d cleared and noticed a stack of computer boxes haphazardly covered with a towel. Whoever had stashed them there, had done a shit job of hiding the contraband. A sinking feeling weighed in my stomach, it was becoming increasingly clearer that Ellis wasn’t the only one in hot water.
We locked up the garage and Sawyer led me into the house. The smell of garbage and something sour hit me in the face as soon as he opened the door. The place didn’t look like it’d been updated since the house was built, the walls were stained with dirty fingerprints and accented with more than a few fist-sized holes.
I made note of the giant flat screen and expensive-looking sound system as Sawyer tried to straighten up. He picked up an overturned ashtray off the couch and swept the ashes onto the floor, using his foot to rub the mess further into the carpet.
“Sorry about that,” Sawyer said, snatching up a stray T-shirt. “Take a load off.”
Too tired to give a shit about cleanliness, I sat my ass on the floral monstrosity of a couch, only briefly wondering if he’d conned an old lady out of it somehow. For as dense as he was sometimes, my brother had the gift of gab. He could talk himself out of just about anything, which made me wonder what the hell he was involved in.
Relaxing as much as I could into the uncomfortable piece of furniture, I watched my brother dart around the room, tossing dirty clothes into the corner and shoving garbage into a stray McDonald’s bag. He looked like he was tweaking, but I prayed I was wrong.
“You on something?” I asked suddenly, refusing to ignore the elephant in the room.
Sawyer stopped rushing around, tossing the bag of trash at his feet and slumping into a brown recliner. “No. I mean, yeah, but it’s not what you think. I took a couple Adderall so I could get my head strait, I’m just stressed,” he said, taking off his hat and running a hand through his dark hair.
It wasn’t meth, but popping pills wasn’t exactly innocent. “How long have you been doin’ that shit?”
He groaned and scrubbed at his face. “C’mon man, it’s not even like that.”
Fishing my cigarettes from my pocket, I stuck one between my teeth and lit it. “Then what is it like, Sawyer? Because you were pissing your pants about some shit with Ellis when you left that message and then when I get here you’re nowhere to be found. And when you do show up, you’re strung the fuck out. What am I supposed to think?” I asked, balancing an ashtray on the arm of the couch.
Sawyer slumped back into the chair, his fingers still drumming out an unsteady beat on his knee. “Shit’s compl
icated, man.”
My brother might be able to bullshit with the best of them, but he could never pull the wool with me. I knew him too well. “Then explain it to me.”
“I made a bad bet,” he said, raking his hand through his hair. “A couple bad bets, actually.”
I sighed on an exhale, watching the smoke dissipate into the stagnate air like the last hopes I had for keeping my hands clean. To be fair I never actually expected to live a life completely on the up and up—but I had hoped to avoid going to prison again. “I take it these bets weren’t made legally?”
Sawyer shook his head, but didn’t try to make excuses.
“How much?” I asked, bracing myself for the shoe to drop.
“I’ve got it figured out—”
“How much?” I demanded.
His tongue darted out to lick his lower lip and he scratched at the stubble on his chin. “Fifty.”
I exploded, there’s no other way to explain it. I jumped up from the couch and started pacing. “Fifty thousand? What were you thinking?”
He wasn’t thinking, and you weren’t here to keep him in line.
He leaned forward, elbows on knees as he watched me prowl around the filthy living room. “Look, I fucked up—”
Pausing mid-stride, I cut my eyes to my younger brother. “Yeah, I’d say you fucked up pretty fuckin’ bad. How the hell do you get to be fifty Gs in the hole?”
“Like I said, man. I made some bad bets. I thought I had a sure thing, but shit went south and now they want their money.”
Something about the way he said it gave me pause. “What do you mean a sure thing?”
Sawyer’s shoulders sank and I could already tell I wasn’t going to like the answer. “I had a deal with one of the underground fighters. He was supposed to throw the match, but as soon as he took one to the jaw he lost his shit and pummeled the guy. His head hit the concrete so hard, I thought the fucker was dead,” he added as if it made any difference to the situation.
Blackout: A Romance Anthology Page 85