by April Lust
Blackbird let us into his living room, which attached to the kitchen and what looked to be a bedroom that had no door or wall separating it. In fact, the only doors in the place led to the bathroom or outside.
It really was a tiny piece of shit.
We sat on the couch while Blackbird sat across from us in the chair. He was eyeing me, even as the two older men spoke congenially. Finally, when there was a lull in the conversation, he addressed me. “So, you’re little Lucy’s boy toy, are you? What makes you think you got any right to her at all?”
The Preacher leaned forward as though to tell Blackbird he had overstepped his bounds—or hell, maybe he was going to tell Blackbird I was just a dumb kid and didn’t know my ass from my elbow yet—but I answered before they could exchange any words.
“I don’t,” I told him boldly, staring him right in the eyes. I noticed one of them was kind of milky white. “I don’t have any right to her at all. In fact, I think the only dumb thing she’s ever done in her entire life was decide to stick with me.”
Blackbird’s eyebrows rose in surprise at my answer.
I continued before he said anything in response. “But I hope to god she never wises up. ’Cause I love that damn girl and I’ll put my life on the line to make sure she’s got everything she wants.”
Blackbird held my gaze for what felt like forever. I could feel a prickle at my side indicating that the Preacher was looking at me now, too, a burning sensation that made me want to itch or run or at least look at him. But I held my gaze steady to match Blackbird’s.
After a moment that could have been an hour, Blackbird laughed. It was a booming sound that filled the little house and immediately broke the tension.
The Preacher didn’t join in with it, but his gaze left me and he sat back more comfortably in his seat.
Turning to the Preacher, Blackbird told him, “You know, I like him. He’s a moron, but maybe he’ll grow out of some of it anyway.”
I thought back on that day and wondered if things would have gone differently if my answer had been different. What if I’d said I deserved her? What if I’d said she chose me, so it was none of his damn business? I didn’t know. It was too late in the game to know one way or the other, but I could guess it wouldn’t have been as favorable of an outcome.
I’d won Blackbird over that day and the Preacher told me friends were important. I was counting on that now.
That night, I met Blackbird at a local restaurant that had seen better days. It had barely two people besides the two of us there and even the waitress looked like she was bored out of her damn mind.
Blackbird sat at a booth with nothing but a cup of coffee in front of him. I joined him, sliding onto the bench seat across from him. The waitress perked up at the idea of another customer, and she scurried over to me quickly, pad and pen in hand.
“What can I get you, sir?” she asked eagerly.
“Just coffee, please. And a refill for my friend.”
She looked a little disappointed that I wasn’t ordering anything else and said, “Are you sure? We’ve got some of the best damn pie in town.”
She looked so desperate, that I smiled at her and nodded. “Pie would be good, too. Bring us each a piece, please.”
Nodding with a grateful smile, she hurried off to fill our order. We didn’t say anything until she came back with the coffee carafe and two plates, each with a large slice of what looked like apple pie. It smelled good, at least, and she’d warmed it and added a lump of ice cream, too. No charge. I thanked her, and she disappeared again.
Finally, I turned to Blackbird. “How’ve you been?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Some old dogs never die, you know?” He took a sip of his refreshed coffee, then asked, “How’s Lucy doing these days?”
The question was more meaningful given the death of the Preacher, but I wasn’t going to get into it. She was in bad shape, no question, but she was tough. She would pull through. It was something I had to tell myself over and over again until I believed it, which meant there wasn’t much room for sharing my worries with someone else. “She’s hanging in there. Got her chin up.”
“Good. You give her my best. Closest thing I ever had to a kid.”
I nodded. “Listen, I gotta cut to the chase here. I didn’t stop by just to catch up.”
“I figured. What is it I can help you with, Max boy?”
Only Blackbird and the Preacher had ever called me that. “I need to know if you’ve heard of a club called the Slayers. Their leader’s name is—”
“Blade. I know. Bastard if god ever made one.”
“So you’ve heard of him?”
Blackbird nodded grimly. “Yeah. He’s not the kind of guy you wanna be messing with, Max. Is he calling you trouble?”
I shook my head, frowning. “The opposite, actually, which is what’s got me worried. We’re talking peace and he’s keeping up his end, but it doesn’t sit well with me. I wish I could say why, but—”
“Instinct,” Blackbird interrupted. “Instinct is why and that’s a damn good reason to trust it.”
I hesitated, because there was something else I wanted to bring up. Something more important. Something I wasn’t sure I wanted answered, but I wasn’t sure there was anyone else to ask about this. “You remember Bills, right?”
Blackbird sat back, nodding his head. His features smoothed at the mention of the familiar name and he looked a lot more comfortable than he had talking about Blade. “Yeah, sure. The Preacher’s right hand. Good man.”
I frowned. “Good man, yeah. So you trust him?”
Blackbird raised a single eyebrow in question. “Of course. Never had a reason not to. Not for one damn second. Why do you ask?”
Hesitating for just a second longer, I spilled the thing that had been really bugging me. “I saw him the other day. He was meeting with some guys. I’d called him, but he wouldn’t answer. I wouldn’t have thought anything of it, except the guys he was meeting with were Slayers.”
Blackbird stilled instantly. “Well, in that case, I think you’d better have a conversation with your lieutenant.”
# # #
When I got back, Lucy was relieved. I thought she honestly considered the idea that I wouldn’t come back. We fucked until the night was over and, at three a.m., I left the bed and a sleeping Lucy to make a call. I got his answering machine, but I didn’t care. I’d leave a message and he’d get it or he wouldn’t, but if he didn’t show, things would go hard on him.
“Bills. It’s Max. Meet me tomorrow. Bastion’s at six. Don’t be late.”
Then I hung up and spent the rest of the very early morning checking my piece over and over again, worried I’d have cause to use it later that day.
# # #
Normally, I’d sit at the bar, but tonight I wanted room. The bar was more public, but I wanted a place where I could not only talk, but where I could push back and make a break for cover if I had to. Bills wasn’t the kind of man to mess with and not be prepared. It had never been a problem before, since he’d always been on my side, but I couldn’t help the sinking suspicion that things were different now.
Everything was different now.
I picked a table off to the side along the wall, but not tucked away in the corner. We’d be able to talk freely, but I could make it to the door easily and if he wanted to get to me, there were other people he’d have to climb over to do it.
It was five ’til six when Bills walked into the room. He looked bad tonight, pale and nervous, his shaved head shiny with sweat. His eyes scanned the bar first, then the dining room, finally spotting me at the table. Swiping his hand over his head, he made his way over to me.
“Boss,” he said, his voice strained. Up close, he looked worse. Nervous, yes, fidgeting and sweaty, but also tired. There were deep bruise-colored bags beneath his eyes and his skin was a pale, sickly color.
He knew what was coming. He sensed something from the tone of my voice, the tenor of that mes
sage, that I knew something was wrong. We were sitting here about to approach a subject that both of us knew was coming and now it terrified him.
I gave him credit where credit was due: at least he had the guts to show.
I motioned for him to take the seat across from me. He took a deep breath and did so.
“I think it’s time we had a conversation, don’t you?” I asked him. There was a beer warming in my hand. I spun the glass just a little, leaving behind wet semi circles behind on the wood table, but I didn’t take a drink. I wanted to be sober and ready for this.
Bills let out a whoosh of air. He nodded. “You’re right. I thought I could handle this, but you’re right. It’s time we talked.”
I frowned a little. Handle this? “I saw you last week,” I told him bluntly. “At the railyard. With the Slayer boys.”
He swallowed a lump in his throat and let out a shaky laugh. “I’m not sure you’re going to believe this, boss, but I never wanted any of this to go down like it has.”
“What the fuck did you think would happen when you went behind my back to work for Blade?” I demanded, working hard to keep my anger contained and my voice even. It sounded easier than it was.
He shook his head. “You don’t understand, I didn’t have a choice! Blade—Blade had something on me. Something…I couldn’t let it get out.”
“What? He had something on you? Are you trying to say he blackmailed you into betraying me?”
Bills hung his head and, for the first time, I realized the man in front of me was a hollow shell of his former self. And I realized he wasn’t the piece of shit I’d worked him out to be. “What did he have?”
Bills shook his head, but after a moment he answered. “I fucked up. It was years ago, but I fucked up. I was just a kid and I was running scared, too stupid to know the difference between a firm hand and a lick of anger that ate you up inside. I killed a man, boss. I didn’t mean to, but I killed him. Not ’cause he did anything to me, but because I was a dumb kid and I didn’t know what to do with the rage inside. The man had a family. The man had kids.
“I took off, but the cops weren’t going to let it go. Maybe they never would have, but the Preacher found me. He made it disappear. I still don’t know how he did it. I’ve done a lot of things, boss, bad things. I’ve killed people since then, but that first one…That man should be alive right now. He deserved to be, and I took that away. The Preacher taught me that there are righteous kills and then there are murders. I don’t ever want to be a murderer again.”
For a long moment, we were both silence, his story filling the space between us. It wasn’t the answer I’d been expecting, but the sincerity in his eyes, that same haunted look I found in Lucy’s these days, told me it was truth.
Taking a deep breath, I nodded once. “All right. Fine. What’s Blade up to?”
Relieved to change the topic, Bills answered, “Not the kind of stuff we need to be into, boss.”
“What kind of stuff?”
Shaking his head, Bills said, “He’s stealing girls, boss. Don’t care much about their ages or where they’re from. He snags them off the street or steals them outright if the catch is worth it.”
I frowned, trying to understand what he was saying. “Stealing girls? For what?” I asked, but as soon as the question was out of my mouth I knew the answer. I winced as I heard Bills confirm it.
“Prostitution, porn. Twisted fucking stuff, boss. The kind of shit that—” Bills shuddered, looking away. “He hasn’t picked up any lately. At least, he hasn’t told me if he has, but I’ve seen some of the footage. They cry, Max. They cry and fight back and struggle, but they never win. Sometimes they’re drugged; sometimes they’re awake. And they’re young. So fucking young. If they’re eighteen, I’m fucking ancient.”
A cold rush of fear washed through me. His words painted a picture so grotesque that all I wanted to do was pour bleach across my mind and scrape away the memories. But I knew wasn’t possible. The thoughts would be there forever.
Anger surged through me and I wanted suddenly to destroy something. Preferably Blade’s face, but I’d take just about anything at that point. It took everything I had in me to shove the urge down and continue to look at Bills.
This was the one thing I never wanted to do. Fuck the rest. Gun running, drug dealing, boosting cars. All of it was minor things compared to this one great evil. Human trafficking. I’d suspected the Slayers of it, heard the rumors, but I’d never really let myself think about it. I told myself this wasn’t the thing I’d get involved with, but I’d been lying. I’d convinced myself it was them, not me, but there was no damn difference.
None at all.
“Damnit!” I said, slamming my hand down on the table and spilling some of my beer.
Bills started to say something, but before he could get it out a fit of coughing overtook him. I gave him a minute to compose himself, but realized quickly he was in a bad way. He used a napkin to cover his mouth, but after a moment, he pulled it away to reveal the napkin was covered in blood.
“What’s going on?” I asked him, and this time I wasn’t talking about Blade.
With a heavy sigh he said, “I’ve got cancer, Max. I’m…I’m dying. The doctor gave me three months.”
I told him we would deal with that later, as friends, but there was something inside me that told me there wouldn’t be anything to deal with. I had a feeling Bills was dead, no matter what I did.
Chapter 17
Lucy
Max was gone for a week and I spent all of it stressing out about him. Would he come back? Would he be alive? Would someone hurt him? He hadn’t told me what he was doing, but I knew it was business related.
I couldn’t spend my week worrying about it, though; that would eat me up. So instead I spent it with Becky and with my mom.
My mom wasn’t doing so well these days. Her health was deteriorating quickly, no matter what we seemed to do. Her leg was worse, but that wasn’t all of it. There were other things going on—something with her breathing, something with her aches and pains, something going on inside that we just couldn’t see—so we went to the doctor again.
He saw a lot of her these days.
Ultimately, he gave me a little hope in a couple of different ways. Get her some fresh air. Move her out of the city; it’s eating her up.
Those words were my salvation, not just because they might save my mom, but because they might save me, too. I could get her out of the city and, by extension, have a damn good reason to take myself out of it, too.
After all, she couldn’t go alone, right?
There was only one problem with the brilliant plan: my mom. She wouldn’t do it.
“I like it here,” she told me firmly for the millionth time that week. Max would be home tomorrow and if I wanted to ask him for the cabin—because what was the point of living out in the woods if you didn’t have a cabin?— I’d need to have a solid reason to be convincing.
I rolled my eyes at her. “You’re being ridiculous,” I told her again. “You heard what the doctor said.”
She waved me off. “Nonsense. I’ve lived in this city my whole damn life! I’m not giving it up now over some stupid doctor.”
“Right. Don’t listen to the PhD.”
She only glared at me and didn’t answer.
I sighed. “What if I moved out there?” I asked suddenly, a plan forming in my mind. “Then you could keep your place in the city, but you could come up on weekends. The fresh air would be good for you, but you wouldn’t have to give anything up.”
My mother studied me suspiciously. She knew there was something going on, but couldn’t quite figure out what. Which was good; I didn’t want her to know the thoughts I’d been having about leaving lately. I knew she didn’t want to go; this was her home.
“What’s your angle?” she demanded with narrowed eyes.
I rolled my eyes again. “No angle. I get a vacation from all…this,” I gestured to the house, “an
d you get a little taste of good health.”
She frowned at me, not entirely convinced, but, ultimately, she agreed to it. She couldn’t think of why she shouldn’t.
When Max got home the next day, I asked him.
“Sure. I’ve got the money.”
I didn’t ask how much or where the money had come from, because I needed this to work. It had to.
Chapter 18
Max
If I’d known how eager Lucy was for a cabin, I’d have bought her one years ago. We had the money. Maybe it had been tighter than usual lately, but my money wasn’t all tied up in the club. I had my own set aside and I’d been saving it for a rainy day.