by D. R. Graham
I stood and clasped Lincoln’s elbow to make her stand. “Sorry, Gayle. We have to go.”
“We’re not done,” Lincoln said with indignation.
“Yeah, you are.” I dropped cash on the table, then clutched her arm tightly to guide her toward the door. We stepped out under the awning, and people pushed to get close to Lincoln. I strained to see over the crowd of heads. Flashes from cameras went off and created a disorienting strobe effect. “Where’s the SUV?” I asked and pulled her by the hand toward the curb.
“I have to text the driver.” She typed on her phone with one hand.
I shoved a few fans who jostled her. “Tell him to hurry.” A flash went off right in my face and temporarily blinded me. Lincoln got bumped off balance and screamed. I lunged toward her and tucked her into my chest. “Back off!” I yelled and pushed the photographers to give us some room. It was claustrophobic, and the strobes disoriented me.
It seemed to be taking forever for the driver to show up, and a nauseous feeling bubbled up in my gut when I felt the vibration in my feet. Windows rattled and car alarms went off. I knew right away that it was the sound of more Harleys coming. Everyone else paused and turned to figure out what was causing the rumbling sound. I took advantage of their distraction to weave Lincoln through the crowd and down the sidewalk. Twenty bikers riding together rolled down the street. There wasn’t one person on the sidewalk who didn’t turn to look. Little kids pressed their hands against their ears. The reverberation of the engines bounced around in my chest and drowned out my heartbeat.
Even if the member I’d been searching for was with the approaching group of bikers, there was nothing I could do about it. Especially not with Lincoln right next to me. My urgency to get her out of the situation ramped up to a panic level. Lincoln watched as the bikes slowed and parked in front of the bar. Then she spun and looked at me.
The SUV pulled up to the curb and nearly hit us. I swung the back door open and jumped in after her. “Go,” I said to the driver and checked over my shoulder.
Lincoln studied my expression. “Those guys had different patches on their jackets than your roommates.”
I raised my left eyebrow and sat back against the leather seat, relieved that we got out of there, but still tense. Skipping town was definitely necessary if she and I were going to be hanging out together. I didn’t want them anywhere near her. “Did they?”
“Yes. Who are the Boomslangs? Do you know them?”
“I don’t think so.”
Not buying the lie, she frowned and spun around to peer out the back window until we turned the corner. She could obviously tell I was rattled, because she was quiet for the rest of the drive.
When we arrived at the studio, she waited for the driver to get out before she asked, “What was that all about?”
I shook my head to play it down, slid out, and held the door open for her.
“Why did you make me leave? Did you know they were coming?”
“I just didn’t want you to be late for the photo shoot.”
She frowned again as if she wanted to ask more, but realized it was futile to wait for me to answer. She reluctantly followed me inside the studio.
A team of five people surrounded her for an hour of hair, makeup, and wardrobe. While she posed for the photo shoot, I sat on a leather couch at the back of the studio thinking about what might have happened if any of them had spotted me. I was the only witness scheduled to testify against the two who were already in prison awaiting trial, and besides Liv and Huck, I was the only one who could ID the third one. We called him Fireball since I only knew what he looked like, not who he was.
It was the first time since I’d arrived in Los Angeles that I had seen that many Boomslangs together at once. I got antsy thinking about what the Noir et Bleu would do if they found the guy. I hadn’t wanted it to go down their way because I promised Huck I wouldn’t turn into one of them, but the Noir et Bleu way of doing things was faster and more permanent than the judicial system. The photo shoot was taking forever, and I was feeling adrenalized, so I stood and paced.
“Are you okay?” Lincoln appeared beside me and rested her hand on my back.
“I think I need some water.”
“Water!” she shouted and guided me to sit back on the couch. “What’s wrong?”
I rested my elbows on my knees and rubbed my temples. “It’s complicated.” An assistant showed up with water and opened the cap for me. I drank the entire bottle at once.
Lincoln waved the assistant away and watched me. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. I’m fine. You can go back to work.”
“There’s no rush.” She bit at her lip nervously for a second, then said, “Sorry I was acting immature at the restaurant.”
“That didn’t bother me.” To lighten the mood, I teased, “I’m used to it. I’ve got a little sister who can be a brat sometimes.”
The teasing didn’t lighten anything. She was dead serious when she asked, “Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”
Her sincerity was sweet, but I really didn’t want her to be pulled into my problems, so I said, “I’m fine. Go back to work so we can get out of here.”
After a minute, she frowned with concern, then stood and walked back to the set. I debated about whether I should call Digger to find out if he already knew that almost the entire Boomslangs chapter was out at a public place. It wasn’t going to happen again anytime soon. If the guy was there, it wasn’t like they could walk up and kill him in front of everyone. They wouldn’t even be able to get close enough to kidnap him with his whole crew around. That was assuming he was even there.
Fuck.
I had no choice. Digger was the only person who would know how to handle the situation. I pulled out my phone and called Cisco. He was my contact person whenever Digger wanted to get a hold of me.
He answered with, “What?”
“There’s a bar called Mallory’s on Sunset you might be interested in.”
“Do they serve Fireball whiskey?” He asked it that way because all the Noir et Bleu were paranoid of wiretaps and avoided divulging too much in phone conversations.
“I didn’t actually see that, but I’m sure you could ask the twenty guys who are there.”
“All right. I’ll check it out next time I’m in town.” He hung up.
I listened to the silence, already regretting it. At least they didn’t know who they were looking for. I really didn’t want to be responsible for someone’s death, so I convinced myself if they found him, I could call the police. All the Noir et Bleu knew was he had dark hair and a scar on his face, which wasn’t all that helpful when dealing with bikers. Even if Digger did send a team to Mallory’s and find someone matching Fireball’s description, they would need to get me to positively identify him. It made me feel a little better, but not great since they might act first and ask questions after.
Lincoln finished the photo shoot around six-thirty, and we drove straight to her mom’s mansion. The SUV stopped out front. “Are you feeling better?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said and avoided eye contact with the hope that she would let it go.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I shook my head. “I’m fine. Your mom is waiting. We should go inside.”
She rested her hand on my leg and squeezed it a little. “Prepare yourself. Everything you’ve seen so far is going to seem completely normal compared to meeting my mom.”
I laughed at the irony she was unaware of. “Great. I can’t wait.”
“Just keep reminding yourself that you’re getting paid ten thousand dollars a day.”
“That’s how I got this far.”
“Ha ha. Seriously, I’m apologizing in advance.”
“I don’t see how meeting your mom could possibly be any worse than babysitting you all day.”
She smiled and shoved my shoulder. “You’re an asshole.”
“So you keep telling me.”
She inhaled and let the breath out slowly. “All right, let’s get this over with. Then maybe later you can tell me why you made me run away right as a bunch of bikers showed up, and what that had to do with you having a freak-out attack at the studio.”
Chapter Seven
“Tessa.” Lincoln’s mom hugged her for a long time. “I wasn’t sure if you would show up,” she whispered as if she didn’t want anyone but Lincoln to hear.
“Have I ever not shown up?” She pushed her mom’s shoulders to end the hug, but her mom didn’t let go.
“I never know when they’re going to get you, baby.”
Lincoln used more force, and her mom stepped back. “Nobody’s going to get me.”
Her mom peered out the door into the front yard and then slammed the door, locked the three deadbolts, pressed her finger to her lips, and whispered, “Shh. They’ll hear you. Don’t let them hear you. It’s basically an invitation to abduct you if they hear. Who’s this? Is he one of them?”
Lincoln tilted her head at me in an apologetic way. “No, Mom, this is Cain. He works for me.”
“How do you know he’s not one of them?”
“I had his DNA analyzed.”
Lincoln walked down the hall. Her mom placed her hand on my cheek and moved my head to look in my ears. Then she pulled my chin down to look in my mouth. There were black circles under her eyes, and her cheeks were hollow from being too thin, but it was obvious that she had once been beautiful. She thrust a ball of tinfoil into my palm. “Hold this at all times. If they’re sending messages, this will allow you to hear them.”
“Uh, okay.”
She took two steps and poked her head into an empty living room area. There was no furniture, just boxes covered in tinfoil. She leapt past the entry as if she expected that someone was in the room waiting to shower her with bullets. Her nervousness actually made me feel like I should be afraid of something, too. She slid along the wall and checked in each room like a cop before she leapt past the entryway.
Eventually, we made our way to an open concept living room and kitchen where Lincoln sat on a wooden chair, texting. “Tessa! Don’t use that without this.” She dug another ball of tinfoil out of the pocket of her robe and gave it to Lincoln.
“Thanks, Mom.”
She glanced at me, maybe to see how I was reacting. I probably didn’t have a readable expression on my face because I was still taking it all in. The drywall was punched out in a pattern of lines, and the holes were filled with tinfoil. The kitchen was clean except the dishes were stacked up in towers on the counter, and there was a ball of tinfoil on top of each tower. The wooden furniture was covered in handwritten messages carved in part English mixed with gibberish. Dark sheets were tacked up over the windows, and I counted six cats, but it smelled like there were way more. I stood near the entry, too shocked to move.
“I made dinner,” her mom said as she bounced around transferring various dishes to the dining table—a bowl of walnuts, a coconut, and a plateful of crab. She smiled at me. “I hope you like things with hard shells. It’s the only way to be completely certain that the food hasn’t been tampered with.”
I didn’t answer because I had no idea how to respond to something like that.
“Uh, Mom, when was the last time you went to see Dr. Peterson?”
“I can’t go there anymore.” She lowered her voice, “His secretary has the place bugged, and she’s selling the private information of the patients.”
“I’ll get Dr. Peterson to come here.”
“No. He’ll be wearing a wire.”
“You could still take your medicine. You don’t have to visit him to take the medication.”
“No. He’s trying to control my mind. If I take the medication, he’ll be able to brainwash me.”
Lincoln’s eyelids drooped with the exhaustion of rationalizing with someone who was irrational. “I’ll have the medicine tested to make sure it’s not brainwashing medicine. Will you take it if I get it tested?”
Her mom’s eyebrows angled together as she considered her answer. “Only if you personally watch as they test it to make sure that they don’t switch the bottles or something.”
“Sure. I’ll do that tomorrow.” Lincoln rolled her eyes at me in an exasperated way.
“Shh.” Her mom ran over to the window and pulled the dark sheet to the side. “Did you hear that?”
“No, Mom.”
“Did you hear that?” she asked me.
“No.” I glanced at Lincoln. She wasn’t kidding when she’d warned me. I watched her mom, wondering if she was always so crazy.
“There’s a black truck in the driveway,” she whispered.
“That’s my driver,” Lincoln mumbled. “I had his DNA tested. You can trust him.”
“What if they got to him?”
“Um, Mom. I’m going on tour for six weeks, so I won’t be able to visit for a while. If you don’t take your medicine, they’ll probably make you stay at the hospital again.”
“I’ll take my medicine.” She peered out the window. “Make sure you carry your transmitter so they won’t get you.”
Lincoln held up the tinfoil ball. “I’ve got it right here.” She stood and sighed. “I’m going to send the safe medicine over tomorrow with a courier. Don’t accept it unless it comes from the courier.”
“How will I know if he’s the real courier or an impostor?”
Lincoln pressed her fingers to her lips briefly, then pointed to a word scratched into the seat of the chair. “He will say this secret word.”
“Okay.”
“I’m going to send the cleaning lady and the cook, and they will all say the secret word so you know it’s really them, okay?”
“I only eat things that come from shells.”
“Okay. I’ll let him know.” Lincoln walked back toward the hallway. “Bye, Mom.”
I followed Lincoln outside. Her mom latched all the deadbolts behind us. We didn’t talk during the ride back to the hotel. She leaned against the door and stared out the window. When we got to her suite, she threw her tinfoil ball in the trash basket and went into the bathroom to take a shower. I ordered us food from room service. I didn’t bother to ask her what she wanted. When she came out of the bathroom, she was wearing a fluffy robe, and her hair was wrapped in a towel. She walked directly to the bed and crawled under the sheets.
“You should eat something,” I said.
“I’m not hungry.”
If she was going to sleep, there was no reason for me to be there. I finished my dinner, then stood. “I should get going.”
She shot up, almost panicked. “No. Please stay.”
“I’ve got stuff to do.”
“Please.”
I stared at her for a while and then sighed. “If you eat something, I’ll stay until you’re finished.”
“That’s bribery.”
“Take it or leave it.”
“Fine. I’ll eat all night.” She hopped out of bed and stuck her tongue out like a bratty kid as she walked over to the dining table.
I laughed. “Go at it. I bet you barf by midnight.”
She sat down and lifted the lid off the room service meal with an uncertain look on her face. “Is this what you had?”
“No. I had the beef. Try the chicken. You’ll like it.”
She started eating really slowly, so I moved to the couch and turned the TV on. “What do you like to watch?”
“I don’t know. What do you like?” She poked her fork into one pea and ate it.
“I don’t watch much TV.”
“Let’s rent a movie,” she suggested before she popped a steamed carrot in her mouth.
“You wouldn’t be trying to get me to stay longer, would you?”
She pointed the knife at me. “You know I am, so pick a movie that you want to see while I order more food.”
Outside the windows was a million dollar penthouse view of the Los Angeles skyline. It was impressive,
and along with all the other perks of a five-star hotel room, it didn’t take much to convince me to hang out a little longer before heading back to a biker rooming house that smelled like a puke bucket. “You don’t have to eat all night. I’ll stay for a while.” I stretched my legs out and rested my feet on the coffee table.
“Until I fall asleep?”
“Maybe.”
She smiled and ate a few more forkfuls at a normal pace. “Why does your sister live with your grandparents?”
“How do you know that?”
“I heard you on the phone. You asked her if your grandpa was going to take her to visit your mom.”
I stared at her for a while, then I did something that surprised me. Maybe it was because she had trusted me enough to let me meet her mom, or because she deserved to know everything about me before we spent the next six weeks together, but I told her the truth. “My dad was murdered, and the guys who did it doused my mom in gasoline and set her on fire.”
Lincoln gasped and blinked repeatedly as if she wasn’t sure she heard me right. “She survived?”
“She’s still in the hospital. Huck lives with my grandparents.”
“Oh my God.” She dropped her fork. “I’m so sorry, Cain.” She let it sink in for a minute before she stood and walked over to sit on the arm of the couch. Her hand slid across my shoulder, and I let her pull me in for a hug.
“Is that why you have Southpaw and a date on your tattoo? Was that your dad?”
I nodded and clenched my fists. “Yeah. Southpaw was his nickname.”
“Are the guys who did it in prison?”
“Two of them are. The trial’s coming up in six months. We haven’t found the third one yet.”
“Yet, as in you’re trying to find him?”
I shrugged because it felt weird to talk about it with someone I hardly knew.
“What are you going to do if you find him?”
“Call the police.”
“Why did you have a mini spaz after we saw those bikers this afternoon? Were they related to the murder?”
I stared at my knees for a long time before I answered. “It was members of the Boomslangs who did it.”