“Edge? Whisper be okay?” The old lady sounds surprised and frightened at the same time as she stares at Edge. Her eyes are as big as saucers as a hidden meaning passes between the two of them to her question.
“Not now, Miss C. Later. She’s safe and sound.” He gives her a reassuring smile. “It appears you are now safe and sound, too.”
The one I shot is kneeling on the floor, holding his hand, and sobbing.
“Shut the fuck up, pussy,” I order. “You wanted to be a big motherfucker with defenseless women, so stop crying like a little bitch now.”
The music volume is making it hard to talk over.
“You… Blondie, over by Cry Baby,” Edge commands the other motherfucker. “Make me ask twice and I’ll give you a purple heart.”
Miss Catherine means a lot to Edge. He keeps glancing over at her making sure she is doing okay.
“Edge, I got these two, I can’t hear a fucker speak clearly.” He understands and goes and turns the music down, and comes back over while stocky guy pleads his case.
“Look, man, we didn’t mean no harm,” the fucker says as he follows Edge’s instructions. “We just wanted to make a quick buck. We were going to let them go once you sent us what we were gonna ask for. Honest.”
“You’re a fucking liar.” Edge beats me to the punch.
“After your initial contact, I didn’t hear any more from you,” I remind them.
“We had to get them under control,” he tells us, staring at me with a plea in his eyes. Sweat is starting to bead his flushed skin.
The shot motherfucker is sniffling.
“Under fucking control?” Edge growls like a bear in disbelief while shaking his head. “You make one move and my friend here will see that as a threat,” he warns, sidling to Pearllene and Miss Catherine and stuffing his gun in his waistband. He reveals a knife, and proceeds to cut the tape from the wrists and ankles of both women before holstering it again.
One of Pearllene’s eyes is swollen shut. Blood drips from her nose and her busted lip. I notice her left hand is all puffy.
“How you doing, Pearllene? I’m Edge.” He gives her a soft smile. It’s not even a question really, because he can see how she’s doing.
“I’ll survive.” Pearllene is strong like Roxy.
He turns his attention to Miss Catherine who isn’t as beat up as Pearllene, but she’s suffered all the same. Edge gently touches Miss Catherine’s old, wrinkled, and battered face, his anger on full display at the bruises shadowing her dark skin as he wipes the blood from her cheek. She is talking quietly to Edge who dwarfs her, while he rubs a hand gently up and down her back comforting her, cementing how important she is to him. She’s a survivor, too.
“I’m going to get you out of here as soon as I can, Pearllene,” I say, regretting my inability to go to her, because I’m watching these two motherfuckers.
She spots her cane, leans over on a grunt, and slides it closer to her. “He took my ring, Mortician,” she says hoarsely. Fatigue laces her voice. She doesn’t at all sound like the feisty old bitch that I know.
“Who?” I demand.
“Otis,” she says, pointing to the skinny motherfucker.
“You’re going to get it back,” I promise. Whether I take it from his live body or dead one, I haven’t decided.
Then, it happens. Both Edge and I are distracted with the ladies, so the two motherfuckers see this as an opportunity to strike. Stocky Dude lunges for Edge, and Lanky Motherfucker dives for me. Pearllene and Miss Catherine yell as my ass crashes to the ground with Otis straddling me.
As I wrestle to keep possession of my gun, I hear a loud thwack!
“Pluck his eyes, Miss Catherine,” Pearllene puffs out.
A yelp. “Fuck, lady, stop hitting me with that fucking cane.”
“Would you two ladies get out of my way?” Edge grunts through the mayhem.
My gun discharges, the loud bang momentarily deafening. Otis loosens his grip on my hand and reaches down. That’s the small opening I need. Striking fast, I elbow the motherfucker in the nose, then grab the hand with the hole in it and twist.
“Move again and I shoot the fuck out of you,” Edge says in a steely tone, inches above me.
I shove Otis off me and get to my feet. Edge’s attacker is knocked out cold. Pearllene clutches her cane, glaring at the unconscious fucker. Her injuries must not be so bad if she’s whipped some ass.
Spotting duct tape amongst a pile of trash, I shove my gun away and make quick work of restraining Otis, then I hand Edge the tape so he can do the same to the other motherfucker. Makes me wonder if this duct tape has been used before to bind these two fuckers prey.
At the club, we protect our women from what we do to motherfuckers. No fucking way am I subjecting these old ladies to what’s about to go down.
“Rip his eyeballs out and shove them up his ass,” Pearllene cries.
“I tried aimin’ at a penis once and although I be missin’ the mark, I still be hittin’ his body. If you be needin’ help…”
Edge rolls his eyes. “Miss Catherine, we’ve got this.”
Blood thirsty old wenches, aren’t they?
“Don’t just beat them,” Pearllene insists. “Bury them.”
“Fuck, man. You as bad as Roxanne,” I tell her.
She’s starting to shiver and wraps one of her arms around her waist. My guess is her puffy hand is hurting too bad to move it.
I grab a handful of Otis’ hair and drag him over the dirty floor, throwing him against the wall, and searching him. The first thing I find is Pearllene’s ring.
Holding it up, I bare my teeth at him. He visibly swallows. For now, I’ll keep possession of the jewelry. Once Pearllene is safe in her house, I’ll return it. I continue searching him, but don’t find what I’m looking for.
“I need the keys to that Benz and this fucker doesn’t have them,” I say to Edge. I nod toward the still-unconscious motherfucker.
Edge searches the motherfucker’s second pocket, he hits the jackpot and comes up with the keys, throwing them to me.
“Save a motherfucker for me, while I get Pearllene and Miss Catherine to their houses.”
“I be livin’ in Connard,” she tells me. “Just take me to Pearllene’s ’til Edge be ready to be bringin’ me back to my house.” She looks at Edge. “The car I be usin’ to get to lunch, still be parked at Cake Café. It’s Evelyn’s.”
Edge nods in understanding. “I’ll get it sorted later.” He gives her a hug. “You go with Mortician now and stay safe until I come for you. I don’t want to be chasing you down.” He looks her dead in the eye. “Got me?” He waits for her head to bob up and down. “I fucking mean it, Miss C.”
“I be doin’ as you say.” She looks tired and there’s not a lot of fight left in her.
Once I load both old ladies in the back seat, I go back inside, finding him slapping the face of Stocky Dude. Otis now has tape over his mouth and his eyes are wide with terror at the sight of Edge so close to him.
“Wakey, wakey, Sunshine,” he says in a singsong voice, which sounds just a little on the creepy side.
“I’m hitting the road,” I announce. “I’ll be back soon.”
He glances over his shoulder. “I’ll be here with my two new best friends.”
“Remember, one motherfucker mine,” I remind Edge.
He points to Otis. “All trussed up and ready to be accountable for his sins.”
I snicker, then bring my ass back to the car to get Pearllene and Miss Catherine to safety, leaving Edge to his fun and games.
Pearllene
Control
I’ve never been so glad to see somebody the way I was when Mortician stormed in with his friend. My grandson-in-law is so fine, but the young man with him…if I was just three hours younger—and single—I’d go after him myself. Edge’s gunmetal gray eyes hold an intensity that must make women swoon at his feet. Even my old ass, abused and terrorized, felt a little twitch. His l
ight brown hair is long at the top and shaved on the sides, kind of like that Travis Fimmel fellow from the show Vikings, with just as fine a build. He has tattoos on the top of his hands that suggest they would travel up his arms, but they are hidden by his leather jacket. The close shaved scruff on Edge’s face works well. Out of my one good eye, I noted he has three or four inches on Mort, who’s a good six feet.
Miss Catherine grabs my hand. After I told Mort how we ended up kidnapped, we’ve been lost in our own thoughts. He’s driving like wings have sprouted on the car. He don’t even have the radio on. Anger is just seething from the boy.
“We be fine, Pearllene,” Miss Catherine says.
I squeeze her hand, ignoring how all the wounds I received are hurting. From head-to-toe, my body burns in pain. The hand Otis ground beneath his foot is swollen and throbbing. Thank Jesus, the asshole didn’t mess up my right hand, the dominant one.
“Our boys done come for us,” Miss Catherine says, relief and awe in her voice. “I thought Edge be in Alaska.”
Tears prick my eyes. Like me, she must’ve thought we were done for. “They did,” I say quietly, just as amazed that those two young men stormed the place like avenging angels.
Our captors were going to kill us. Otis told me so as he was beating me. They thought it would give them bragging rights if they called some little pathetic motorcycle man and play with him. Make Mortician think he had a chance to save us, while being outsmarted by them.
They weren’t doing it for a lot of money. They were doing it for the thrill. My ring would’ve gotten them a pretty penny, so that was enough.
The enormity of the danger hits me, and a shiver travels through my body.
“Pearllene, you be strong. Keep it together. This be over and we be safe.” Miss Catherine draws in a breath. “We be safe.”
We hug each other tight. “I’m so sorry, Miss Catherine,” I tell her. “If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have gotten in this mess.”
She pats my back. “Don’t you be worryin’ none. This just be a snaggle in the road. It be over,” she repeats.
Releasing her, I nod and fall silent again.
Mortician is waiting at the stop light where St. Bernard Avenue intersects with N. Claiborne. I’m expecting him to make a turn onto St. Bernard. Instead, when the light changes to green, he keeps straight.
“I want to go home,” I tell him.
“You and Miss Catherine need a doctor,” he grumbles in frustration. “I can’t let you two fucking suffer. I just got to think of a story to give to the nosy motherfuckers in ER.”
“You be takin’ us, but that don’t mean I be gettin’ out,” Miss Catherine says. “I don’t be needin’ no doctor but my own, Dr. Evelyn Castille.”
“Is she here?” Mortician demands.
Miss Catherine sniffs. “She be in Alaska.”
“Unless you got a genie that can summon her ass here to New Orleans, she won’t do us any good, Miss Catherine,” Mortician responds.
“Mortician, you know you can’t take us to a goddamn hospital,” I snap. “It’s policy to report suspicious injuries. As beat up as we are, there’s no story you can make up that satisfies the doctors and nurses. Cops will be called.”
He drives in silence, until he gets to Basin Street, where he turns. Once he U-turns, he slides into an empty space behind Our Lady of Guadalupe Church, where an international shrine to St. Jude is located and allows the car to idle.
Flipping on the lights, he leans toward the console and turns his head toward us. “I’ve been doing this a long time. I think I can come up with a story. If I found you in some alleyway, they can report it all the fuck they want. You. Need. A. Fucking. Doctor.”
I glare at him. “Don’t cuss at me, boy. I’m twice your age and then some. Keep it up and you’re going to need a fucking ambulance.”
His glower doesn’t intimidate me in the least. This boy considers me his family. He might huff and puff, but he gives respect where respect is due.
“If you don’t take me and Miss Catherine to my house, I’m calling Roxanne and telling her just what the fuck you’ve been doing.”
“How do you know she don’t already know?”
He thinks he’s so smart hitting me with that one. “My baby would’ve been here ramming my cane up Otis’ ass and cutting a bitch.”
A grin curves his mouth. The boy is just too beautiful for words. “You’d rat me out like that?”
“I sure would.”
He snatches something from the console and holds it up. “Don’t you need a phone to do that?”
“Where’d you get that?” I say on a gasp.
“Under the seat. It must’ve fallen out at some point.”
My phone disappears right before my eyes.
“Any other argument?” he asks smugly.
“None,” I say sweetly. “I’m just going to have to ask those nice people in ER to contact my next of kin. Remember? You just a stranger who came upon us. I wonder what Bailey’s going to do when she sees her momma so upset. Pity you won’t be there to see.”
He levels such an angry glare at me, I should shrivel up and die on the spot. Worry flickers in his eyes and I relent.
“Listen, baby, I’ve been in some horrendous relationships. Forty years ago, a man I was dating beat me to a pulp and dared me to go to a hospital. I healed up okay. I’ll be fine this time around.”
“That was forty years ago,” he throws at me. “You don’t heal as easy when you’re older.”
I don’t have much patience to begin with and his new argument annoys me. “Look, boy, we’re talking about my ass. If I don’t heal up quickly, that’s on me. Understand?”
“Miss Catherine…” Mortician begins.
“I don’t be listenin’, boy. You be drivin’ us where you be wantin’. Don’t mean we be followin’ your orders and goin’ in.” Her arms are crossed tightly like she’s preparing for a sit in.
“I can go inside and summon a doctor or nurse to the car,” he argues.
“I can be drivin’ off when you leave us,” Miss Catherine retorts.
“Not if I have the key,” Mortician counters.
“Hot wirin’ is not out of the question.”
“You wouldn’t,” he challenges, unable to hide how amused he is.
“Why don’t you be tryin’ me and findin’ out?” Sassy is her middle name.
I chuckle at Miss Catherine’s question and Mortician’s frustration as it dawns on him he won’t win this argument.
He turns around, shifts the gear into drive and screeches off.
Mortician
Sense and Sensibilities
By the time I halt the Mercedes in Pearllene’s driveway, I’m over my outrage that Pearllene and Miss Catherine refused medical care. I couldn’t win with those two, but I’m not going to take no for an answer on looking over their injuries myself. In my years of destroying bodies, I’ve learned how to patch them up, too.
As much as I want to fuck those two motherfuckers up, taking care of these ladies is more important.
The front door of Pearllene’s house swings open and two girls dressed in robes rush out onto the lit porch. My sisters-in-law, Carissa and Alexia, stare at me with rounded eyes. I’m going to have to impress upon the Gossip Twins to shut the fuck up about my presence until I return to Hortensia. Bailey would be madder than a motherfucker that I lied to her. Christmas is just several days away. I don’t want it ruined with an argument.
My plans are to wait until after the club’s New Year’s Eve party to sit Bailey and Roxanne down and explain to them what took place.
Sighing, I open the door and step out of the car, opening the back passenger side door. I lean in and scoop Pearllene up in my arms.
Alexia flies down the steps, her blonde braids swinging. “Mortician, what are you doing here?” she asks as Carissa screams, “MeMe!”
“Alexia, stay with Miss Catherine, Pearllene’s friend,” I instruct, brushing past Carissa a
nd going into the warmth of the house.
An older gentleman is standing in the living room. When he sees Pearllene, he hurries to my side. I don’t stop, continuing on toward the staircase. I know the lay of the place because this was once Roxanne’s house and Bailey stayed here for a few weeks.
In Pearllene’s bedroom, I lay her down. “Get me some towels, warm water, whatever antiseptic you have and bandages,” I tell the older dude, not bothering with names. “I have to get her friend.”
Just as my boot hits the first floor, I see Alexia and Carissa on each side of Miss Catherine, helping her in. “Miss Catherine!” I say in exasperation. “You shouldn’t be walking.”
“As long as I be havin’ legs, I be havin’ a means to walk.”
These two are working my last fucking nerve. I stomp forward and lift her into my arms, cradling her against me and ignoring her scowl. Admiration overtakes my annoyance. They are independent women and I can respect that.
In silence, I bring her to Bailey’s old bedroom. It’s been redecorated in neon pink and purple. Immediately, I know whose room this is. “Alexia, I’m commandeering your room,” I tell her as I gently lay Miss Catherine on the bed, then give my sisters-in-law the same instructions I gave the dude.
Carissa grabs my arm. “What happened? Duke called and said MeMe went to Creighton’s looking for him, then was going to lunch. That was hours ago. We’ve been worried sick. We called Hamish and he’s sat with us.”
Hamish? “That’s the old motherfucker?”
Alexia returns with towels and a small first-aid kit. “Hamish is MeMe’s boyfriend.”
I don’t even want to think about what that entails, so I don’t comment.
They don’t question why I didn’t take them to the hospital. They know the score. The club handles things with the people on our payroll. They trust my decision. I’m not about to admit that two old ladies bossed me around and blackmailed me into not taking them to a hospital.
“Edge not gonna be waitin’ forever for you to punish that man,” Miss Catherine says, eyeing me.
When Clubs Collide Page 36