by K. S. Adkins
“Morning,” she says, stretching.
“After breakfast we’ll grab your car,” I tell her, and when she nods I go about making her an omelet while she watches me.
“My husband is a good cook,” she says. “Another thing I didn’t know.”
“Growing up, Hank wasn’t around much,” I tell her. “But the help was. Fuck, I hate those words, the help. They were people, and the only friends I had. Anita, our cook, was pretty much the sweetest woman ever. She taught me to read recipes, cook good food, and how to set the table, because one day my wife would appreciate the skill.”
“She was right, I do,” she says. “You miss your mom?”
“I don’t remember her enough to miss her,” I tell her. “But to tolerate Hank, she had to have been a saint or highly medicated.”
“I’d bet money he wasn’t like that back then,” she says. “I think maybe back then he was a family man, and losing her broke something inside of him. I remember him always comparing my mother to yours. It pissed mine off to no end, but I think the loss of your mom changed him.”
“He’s a controlling asshole, Blue,” I tell her. “I don’t remember a time when he wasn’t.”
“You had a mother that loved you, Max,” she says, sipping her coffee. “Don’t forget that.”
“Do you remember any good times with your mom?”
“No,” she says. “None of my memories of her were good. But it is what it is.”
“I’m sorry for all this,” I tell her. “Had I known—”
“What?” she asks. “You wouldn’t have married me?”
“Fuck no,” I tell her. “I wouldn’t have taken his fucking money and opened up that god damned club.”
“If it wasn’t Lush it would have been something else. Your father would have used you in another way, and you know it. Let’s be real here, the real issue here is me, Max. You met me, the product of trash and trash herself.”
“Don’t you fucking say that!”
“It’s only offensive to you, Max,” she tells me. “I think I turned out okay, given my upbringing. I don’t have a problem with it. I just wonder why you do?”
“Because you are not and never have been trash, Blue,” I say. “You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met. You didn’t let your past mold you; you became more, and you don’t see it. I see it, and I’m fucking proud of you.”
“You know what’s funny? Is that essentially we have the same circumstances. You had money, but what good is money when you’re miserable? I didn’t have it, and was miserable anyway. You became more too, Max, and I wish you could see it. I’m fucking proud of you too, you know.”
“Jesus,” I say, pulling her to me. “Let’s go get your car.”
“Yes, sir,” she says, hugging me back.
The ride to the MGM was spent making movie references and her filling me in on her team. She gave me names and backgrounds. Duffy was a Marine, Bishop was Army like her, Saint was Navy, and Jumbo had been a Seal. My little, red-haired wife was in charge of these men. That blows my mind, but then again, not really. You can’t measure strength in size. She’s tiny but powerful, yet I’m big and generally passive. So yeah, I get it.
Pulling up to her spot in the garage she fishes the keys out of her pocket and pulls my face toward hers. “I’ll be back as quick as I can,” she says.
“Safe,” I growl. “I want you safe.”
Grabbing my hand, she runs it down her right side and then her left. Feeling the weapons there she smiles at me and whispers, “I’m always safe, husband.” Then she kisses me and exits the car, heading for her own. Watching her start it up, back out, and drive away, I’m tempted to follow her, but I don’t. She knows what she’s doing, and I have to trust that.
I decide to head to the club, get some paperwork done, and get back before she does. But then my phone rings and puts a big fucking damper on my plans. I know it’s Hank before I even look at the screen. “What?” I ask.
“Hello, son,” he says, laughing. “I’m doing well, and how are you? Divorced yet?”
“I’m not divorcing her,” I grate. “What do you want?”
“I wanted you to see reason, and since when she’s around that’s impossible, then I’m afraid I’m going to have to take away your plaything.”
“You fucking touch her—”
“The club, Maxwell,” he laughs. “Jesus, but you’re high-strung these days. I gave you an opportunity here, and I’ll even be a gentleman and give you until tomorrow for an answer. It’s her or the club. Until then,” he says, disconnecting.
“Fuck!” I yell, throwing my phone. Sitting there, I want to tear shit apart. I want to hit things, I want to shoot things, I want to remove his limbs from his body. He’ll do it, I remind myself, he will sell me out. Just once I’d like to teach his ass a lesson. Then it hits me.
Oh fuck yes! Genius! Grabbing my phone from the floor I dial the one number guaranteed to secure my stake in the club and hopefully nail his balls to the fucking wall.
“Yo.”
“I have an offer to make you,”
“I’m listening.”
“I want to give you Lush.”
“Give it to me as in?”
“I’ll sign my ownership over to you, no money exchanges hands. You’d be doing this for me as a favor. If anyone could pull this off, it’s you. When this shit is over and you want to give it back? Fine. If not, you can keep it.”
“Does this have anything to do with your wife?”
“It has everything to do with my wife,” I reply.
“I’m in.”
The breath I am holding flies out of me, the tension in my body draining away. “Thank you,” I say. “I’ll handle the paperwork right now. Can you come in and sign?”
“When?”
“An hour?”
“See you in an hour, then.” Click.
Finally, something working in my favor.
“You the boss?”
“Do I look like a boss?” I ask, grabbing a towel to wipe my face. He follows me over to the free weights and just stares. “Can I help you with something?”
“Heard about you,” he says, grabbing weights that weigh more than I do. “Heard you might be headin’ a team. Just lettin’ you know I plan to be on it.”
“You gotta name?”
“Duffy,” he says, dropping the weight to shake my hand.
“Jules,” I say, shaking it.
“I’ll be seeing you around, Boss.”
“It’s Jules!” I call after him, but he just ignores me and keeps right on going.
Pulling up to the Mercury Bar I park in the back lot, hand the attendant three bucks, take a deep breath, and head in to meet Duffy. I spot him by the window, pull out a chair, and then I wait for it.
“You’re late,” he says. “I had to order one of everything waiting for you, and given that I have gluten issues, I’m going to be cursing your name in about two hours.”
“But it was good, wasn’t it?”
“Not the point,” he says, smirking. “I just want to know why.”
“Why?”
“From the beginning, Red,” he says, losing the smirk. “Why you called in those favors, why you brought your sidekick in and no one else, and why you fucking lied about it.”
“Because I love him,” I say. “Because those favors saved a friend’s life, and because Bishop would have followed me anyway.”
“You went rogue,” he says. “That’s not how we do shit. We ain’t mercenaries.”
“I didn’t go rogue. Bishop knew the score, Duffy,” I explain. “Had he said no I would have understood.”
“You asked him because you knew he doesn’t have the fucking ability to say no to you.”
“True.”
“Was it worth it?” he asks. “All the risk for a guy you never see? A guy who, according to Bishop, left you behind?”
“Yes,” I say. “It was worth it.”
“I’m here,” he says
, throwing his hands up. “I’m guessing you want me to watch his back? He’s a fucking civvie, for Christ’s sake.”
“Yes,” I say. “I need to get to Hank without him nearby. He may not have love for the guy, but watching me work his father over won’t be easy for him, so I need him out of the way. He’s also really fucking capable for a civvie.”
“When are you taking Hank on?”
“Soon,” I tell him. “I need to put this to rest.”
“After?”
“I take my punishment that’s due, and find another job if I have to.”
“You’re asking a lot of me, of your team, who by the way wants to be here.”
“Look,” I say, leaning forward. “I’ll do this without you. I don’t want your hands dirty, Duffy; just keep him busy and I’ll do the rest. When it all comes out in the wash I’ll take full responsibility like I should. I deserve it, but he deserves happiness.”
“Happiness without you?” he asks. “How do you see him taking that?”
“If he’s alive and not in prison, then my hope is one day he’ll find his happiness, even if it’s not with me.”
“You’re sacrificing everything for him,” he says. “Everything, Jules.”
“He’d do the same for me.”
“Maybe,” he says. “You pull this off he loses nothing except maybe you; you lose everything including him. That seems fair to you? Because from where I’m sitting, it ain’t fair.”
“Duffy,” I whisper. “Are you with me?”
“Fuck,” he says, grabbing my hands. “You know I am, but I don’t have to like it.”
“Thank you,” I say, removing my hands from his and throwing money on the table. “Talk soon.”
Walking out the back door I can feel his eyes on me. He’s not happy about it, but he has my back, Max’s back, and at the end of the day that’s what’s important. I left feeling weird about the entire thing. He has my back too easily. No riot act, no bullshit, and that’s not Duffy. He’s a master at manipulation. I feel like I missed something. I went to this meeting hoping to get control back, but I left feeling like I was just conned. Too easy is what keeps playing in my head. Waving to the attendant I climb in the rental, back it out, and make my way back to Max to enjoy tonight together. Turning right back onto Michigan Avenue pretty much one block from the bar I just left, a pickup truck that I don’t see until the grill is pushing into the side of my rental hits me on the driver’s side.
All I can hear is scraping. All I can feel is the jarring of it, the impact of a massive pickup hitting my tiny rental car. Covering my head in case of another hit, the truck moves back enough for the driver to get out, open the passenger door, issue his threat, and then leave before I can do anything about it.
Suddenly Duffy is there pulling me from the car. Looking me over I assure him I’m just shook up, that I have no real injuries, but knowing I’ll be fucking sore tomorrow. When the cops show, which I’ll admit took forever, he waits with me. Before I convince him to leave because being seen with me would not be a good thing, I look him in his eyes and say one word. “Max.”
“I got Max,” he says. “Who the fuck’s got you?”
Turning away I answer it silently. I’ve got me. Like I’ve done since the beginning. I can fend for myself, I take care of me, and now is no different.
But that uniform’s threat is still ringing in my ears. “He’s next,” was all he said. I got it. I totally fucking got it. And when I am finished with Hank that motherfucker would be getting it, too.
“I have this friend her names Jules,” she says smiling, in a rare moment of letting her guard down. “You’d love her; everyone does.”
“Yeah?” I ask, handing her the inventory list, pretending I have no idea who she’s talking about. “Why would I love her?”
“She’s funny, sweet, and a super badass military chick,” she says with pride. “All the guys wanted a piece of her growing up but, back then she didn’t bother with any of them.”
“And now?”
“I don’t really know,” she says, thinking on it, then gets sad. “I don’t talk to her like I used to, but I’m telling you, Max. If met her, you’d love her.”
When Duffy called me to tell me Jules was just T-boned on Michigan Avenue and threatened again, I lost it. Knowing she’s headed home, I have to dial it down before I get there, because she doesn’t know that I know. Needless to say, Duffy agreed that I need to do this now. He also said that she should be spared, deserved to be, and I agreed. Now that someone came at her again she would dig deeper, fight harder, and I can’t let her do that. He also told me that if anything happened to her he’d kill me himself, and he wasn’t kidding. So he told me what to do, when to do it. That left me with the how to do it.
I know how.
I just can’t believe I am going to do it this soon. I’m not ready.
Sending her a text I let her know I have some things to tie up at Lush, and that I’d see her after. She responds back with a “sounds good,” making no mention of the accident. Getting to the club, I draw up several documents handing ownership over, and once it’s signed it will get sent to the attorney.
Once that is done I sit there alone and reflect. I am about to do the unforgivable. Yes, it is to keep her safe, but that doesn’t do shit to make me feel better about it. Jules has kept every promise she’s ever made to me. She’s always been faithful, she’s always been honest, and even when we weren’t together she was always mine. Even with distance, I knew that. I knew that and I counted on it.
So when my office door opens I hope I’ll feel relief. But I don’t. I feel like an asshole.
“Jules know about this?”
“No,” I explain. “And she doesn’t need to, either. You know how things are run here anyway, and I’ll still be around, at least until this blows over and she’s clear.”
“I’m thinking your heart is in the right place, but I have to ask where your head is, Max. You love this place, she knows that. Isn’t that why she came back? When she finds out what you’ve done and that you did it for her, she’s going to go berserk. Speaking of berserk, how’s old Hank going to take this?”
“If I know Hank, he’ll explode,” I say. “I just need her away from him when he does it. He gave me until tomorrow to either file or lose the club. This way, I win.”
“You don’t think he’s going to blame her for this? He blames her for everything; this is no different. What happens if he goes after her?”
“I won’t let that happen.”
“Explain that to me.”
“He won’t have time to react, because if he goes anywhere near her, I’ll kill him. Regardless, I’ve got Hank covered.”
“This is risky business, Max. I sure hope you know what the fuck you’re doing.”
Pushing the papers forward and setting the pen next to it, I continue. “Just sign it. I’ll send it to the attorney, and you can be on your way.”
“You can’t keep carrying this guilt around; what happened in the past wasn’t your fault. We are all involved in some fucked-up business. Each of us knows the risk. You can’t protect everyone.”
“All this bullshit is because of him, Venessa,” I start. “Right underneath my god damned nose. I stayed away from my wife to protect her, and even then he had people fucking with her, and I didn’t know. I didn’t protect you, Macy, or my wife, and if I can help put an end to this, I will. Rogan’s cool with you doing this?”
“He gets it,” she says, signing her name. “He also has your back, just like the rest of us, you just have to ask. I don’t want the club, Max. When this is over, it’s yours, no questions asked. But we’re friends, and friends help each other out. When shit gets deep, pick up the fucking phone and ask for help, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Any word from Tony?”
“None,” I say, scanning the paperwork in to send out. “Wherever he is, whatever he’s doing, he isn’t sharing.”
“Well, th
is just gets better and better.”
“Should I be worried about him? Turning on me, that is?”
“No,” she says, standing up. “Tony isn’t turning on you, but if you don’t play your cards right, there’s a good chance Jules will. Women don’t like being played Max, any more than you do.”
With that, she exits. Watching the feed I see Rogan escort her to his truck and drive off. Leaning back in my chair after hitting send I feel good about my decision. Well as good as I can feel about lying to my wife. I suspect by the end of the day Hank will have been notified, and Hank was going to be pissed.
Pulling out my phone I see her text telling me she’s home and asking if I want her to make dinner. Clenching my jaw I want to say yes, that I would love for my wife to cook for me, but I don’t. I respond letting her know we’ll decide when I get there and shut down my office. Driving home I debate on circling the block or not going home at all, but the only way this will work is if I do it in person. Walking in the door I see her on the couch with her hair pulled up messy on top her head, eyes glued to her laptop until she hears me. She looks up and her entire face fucking lights up for me. When she starts to get up to come to me I stop her.
I have to do this now or I never will.
“Everything okay at the club?” she asks, making room for me next to her but I don’t join her. Sitting across from her instead, I cross my arms over my chest and get the courage up to get this done.
“Club’s good,” I tell her bluntly. “I need to talk to you, Jules.”
“I’m listening,”
“I’ve had to do a lot of thinking since you showed up, and it’s only fair that I’m up front with you,” I start. “I didn’t ask you to come here; you did that on your own. You’ve known about shit for years, and kept it from me; I don’t appreciate that. What you did for Rafe and Macy was good, but what you’re doing to me isn’t. Since you’ve been back, shit’s gone from bad to worse, and that’s because of you.”
“Max,” she says, getting up. “Why are you—”
“Sit down and stay over there, Jules,” I order her, and when she sits back down I find myself pissed at her for listening to me. “I used to think being with you was where I belonged, but it was being without you that I figured out who I was. I should have never married you. I was impulsive, and you we’re right, I did it to piss my father off. Now that I know what’s happening at the club, I’ve hired people to take care of it. I don’t need you anymore.”