In Too Deep

by Fox, Harley

  I smile at her. “Of course I remember.”

  The toaster pops and Trista walks over to it.

  “You know, I think that was the moment I first realized that I loved you,” she says, taking down two plates and putting the toast onto one. She rifles through the bag for another two slices.

  “Me too,” I tell her, not a lie this time. “That was when I first realized it too.”

  Trista smiles back at me, then goes to the fridge to take the margarine out. I pour the scrambled eggs into the pan, hearing them sizzle against the hot metal. I grab a spatula and begin stirring them, making sure they don’t stick. Soon enough the toaster pops again and the eggs are ready, and once our food is divvied out we carry the plates and cups of coffee out to the dining table.

  We sit down and begin to eat, me scooping up egg into my mouth, Trista munching on a piece of toast.

  “Do you think Will Silver’s going to come by today?” she asks me. I look up at her from my meal and then put down my fork, fishing into my pocket for my cell phone. I bring the display up and navigate to my texts with Will. There hasn’t been anything since yesterday.

  “He hasn’t said anything yet,” I tell her. “Maybe. It would be nice if he did come by.”

  “Yeah, it would,” she agrees. “He hasn’t sent anything? Doesn’t he usually send the jobs by six or something?”

  I check my phone again. “Yeah, nothing since yesterday. Maybe he’s busy.”

  “Hmm,” she says. I put my phone away.

  I sent Will a text after killing Maddox, telling him what happened. He sent me one back that said, “Congratulations. I’ll be by to go over things with you ASAP,” which I thought meant he was going to come by later that day. It would have made things go much more smoothly than they have been.

  But he didn’t come by. Instead he sent me a text later in the day saying he’s swamped with the collaboration between PharmaChem and the police force, but he’ll be by as soon as he can. In the meantime, here are some jobs he’d like done.

  And that’s how it’s been every day for the past three days. Will sends me a text early in the morning—at around six—saying that he’s too busy to come in today but he’d like these jobs done. They’re all menial things—one-person jobs like picking up a package, relaying a message, threatening some teen cook—so I delegate them to everyone, sending them out on their errands. But so far Will hasn’t sent anything today. Which means he might actually be coming by.

  As though reading my thoughts, Trista says, “So when he does come to the warehouse, we need to make it quick so he doesn’t have a chance to escape.”

  “I know,” I say to her. We’ve talked about this before.

  But she goes on. “In the office would be the best,” she says. “But if it’s got to be out in the open then so be it. And if the others are around—and without jobs today they might be—I can distract them.”

  “I know,” I say again. I pick up my mug of coffee and take a drink. “Have you heard anything from the police captain?” I ask, changing the subject.

  Trista furrows her brow. “No, I haven’t. You’d think there would be some sort of follow-up to quitting out of the blue, but I haven’t heard anything.”

  “Maybe she never got your note,” I suggest, and Trista smiles.

  “Oh God, can you imagine? She thinks I still work there and is just fuming, waiting for me to come in so she can yell at me. Hell, maybe I should’ve actually done that, then she would fire me and I’d get a severance check. Right now I’m just going on my savings.” Trista takes a bite of food. “Has Will wired you any money yet for the jobs?”

  “No, nothing yet,” I tell her. “He said he’s going to do that by the end of next week. Again, busy with the police.”

  We finish our breakfast and take our dishes to the kitchen, quickly tidying them up. As we get ready to leave I check my phone again. Still no text from Will. I put my phone away and we head out, going down to the parking lot where our bikes are parked side by side. We climb on and kick them into life, then head out to our final stop before going to the warehouse. It’s way out of the way, but we’ve got to go.

  I’ve only been to Trista’s apartment a couple of times, and although it’s a nice place it’s kind of … strange. Quiet, and stuck in place, like a museum. Plus seeing her police uniform just hanging on her closet door, so casually like that, almost made Trista seem like a different person. I knew she was a cop—she told me—but just being told something and seeing the evidence of it are two different things.

  And her mom. That’s another part of the apartment that’s strange. It’s amazing how Trista ever found the time to work a full-time job, infiltrate the Bullets, and take care of her sick mom, but part of me wonders if the woman wouldn’t be better off in a home somewhere where she’d get proper treatment. I mean, I get that Trista loves her but … anyway.

  Eventually we arrive at Trista’s apartment and dismount our bikes. Trista unlocks the door and we go in, walking up the stairs to the apartment. Trista heads for her mom’s room and I follow, stopping in the doorway. Her mom is lying in bed, her eyes open, staring out the window on the opposite side of the room.

  “Morning, Mom,” Trista says to the lifeless woman. “Flynn is here, do you remember him?”

  No reaction. Regardless I smile and lift a hand.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Pearson,” I say to her.

  “I’m going to get you your breakfast,” Trista says, leaning down and kissing her mom on the forehead. She leaves the bed and I have to move aside to let her through the doorway, leaving me alone in the room with her mom.

  I glance around the room—it’s empty save for the two of us, and hardly furnished. I gingerly step over to the side of the bed where this red-haired woman is lying, completely motionless, staring out at nothing. I stop beside her and look down, studying her. I haven’t had much opportunity to get this close to her before.

  So this is Sal Pearson’s mom.

  It’s strange, seeing the woman who gave birth to the man who was technically your enemy. This is the woman who raised him. This is the woman who made him into who he was, who he would be today, if he were still alive.

  I get why Trista is doing all of this. Sal must’ve meant the world to her, and he was taken away because of some stupid, petty argument. The worst is that she couldn’t attend his funeral, for fear of being associated with him. If I wasn’t able to attend Elizabeth’s funeral I don’t know what I’d do. Maybe try to kill whoever did that to her. Maybe something like what Trista’s doing. Or trying to do.

  Speak of the devil, Trista appears back in the room carrying a bowl of yogurt and some pills.

  “Hey you,” she says as I turn around. She’s smiling. “Having a nice chat?”

  I smile too. “Just saying hello,” I tell her as I step aside for Trista to take over.

  Soon enough Trista’s finished feeding her mom and we leave the room while Trista washes up the bowl and puts it in the rack to dry. I check my phone again but, still, no text from Will. Maybe he is going to come by today, and that’s why he hasn’t sent anything. I’ll find out in either case.

  We leave her apartment and get back on the bikes, now ready to ride over to the warehouse and start the day. The ride is long, and the day is getting hotter as we arrive. There are some bikes already parked outside—not all of them, but most. Trista and I park our bikes at the end of the line and get off, walking in through the front door.

  The difference in light makes everything seem dark for a moment, but I blink to adjust my vision. I can see the silhouettes of people standing around, some leaning. They were having a conversation but it stops as Trista and I walk in.

  “Morning everybody!” I shout. Only a few of them respond. As I get closer I see Alyssa, Chloe, Matthias, and Jackie. Kendal, Chris, and Tyrone aren’t here yet. “How’s everyone doing today?”

  A few mutters. No one really answers. There’s a jolt in my stomach but I ignore it. I see the stac
k of pallets and part of me wants to jump up onto it, sit there like I used to. But I can’t do that now. I need to maintain a sense of authority. So I sit down in the chair at the table instead, facing the group.

  The conversations start up again as I remain silent. I watch Trista join the others, trying to get in on the conversation. But even she’s having a hard time. Everyone else seems to ignore her.

  I don’t like how this turned out. The plan was that I would be leader and Trista would stay a normal member, so that way we have the best of both worlds. But their reactions to what happened to Maddox were stronger than I’d anticipated. Now they’re basically shunning Trista, and they only respond to me whenever I initiate it, and even then as though I’m some new boss, not one of the guys who’s been here for years. I’m not used to it. I miss the way things used to be.

  The others start trickling in and they join the group, essentially ignoring me. I pull out my phone and check it for texts from Will. Still nothing. I debate sending him a message but decide against it. I don’t want to run the risk of pissing him off, especially if I need to keep him calm when he’s here. I think about what needs to be done. It’ll be hard—killing Maddox wasn’t easy either, and I certainly didn’t anticipate how I’d feel about it. But after Will’s gone that’ll be it. Smooth sailing from there on out.

  Once everybody’s arrived I stand up from my chair and come over to the group. They notice me and the conversation dies away, until there’s just silence and the sound of my footsteps. I stop at the edge of the circle.

  “Morning everybody,” I say to them. “How’re we all feeling?”

  Nobody responds. Some of them, like Chloe and Matthias, aren’t even looking at me. That’s fine. They’ll all appreciate it in the end. It’s fine.

  “So I haven’t gotten a text from Will yet today about what we’re all doing. I expect he’ll send me something—I know he’s been busy getting things set up with the cops so he might’ve just forgotten. He might also come by later, so we can look forward to that. But until then I guess we can just hang tight and wait to hear what he has to say.”

  “Why are you just waiting to hear from Will?” Chloe pipes up, lifting her head to look at me. She looks angry. “Why don’t you text or call him, tell him he’s forgotten to text you?”

  Everyone turns from her to me, waiting for a response.

  “Well I didn’t want to piss him off or anything,” I tell her. “I mean, he’s been really busy lately—”

  “But isn’t this exactly what you said Maddox was doing wrong?” she asks. “You said that he was just being a puppet for Will, that he wasn’t being a good leader. That’s why you killed him. And now you’re doing the same thing.”

  Matthias puts a hand on her arm.

  “Hey, Chloe, calm down,” he says in a low voice. Chloe snaps her head from me to him. I can see the fire in her eyes.

  “Don’t tell me to calm down,” she snarls. “You said yourself—”

  “I know what I said,” he tells her, his eyes darting to me for a moment. “But later, okay?” Turning to me, “Sorry, we were up all night talking. We’re both just tired.”

  Chloe’s breathing heavily but Matthias’s hand moves down her hand and his fingers link with hers.

  “Later, okay?” he says to her. “We can talk to him later.”

  People are now either watching Chloe and Matthias or glaring at me. Even Trista seems unsure of what to do as she glances around at the others. I need to put a stop to this.

  “All right,” I announce, and everyone looks at me. “I think we need to have a conversation. About what happened last week with me and Maddox.”

  Nobody says anything. The entire room is silent. I take a breath and let it out.

  “Yes, I killed Maddox. You all saw it happen. Well, most of you. And yeah, maybe it wasn’t the right way of doing it, but it had to be done. Maddox had it coming. He was getting soft and he needed to be taken out, all right? And besides that, he was getting crazy. Like that plan to massacre the Chains. Seriously? Who here really wanted to do that? Show of hands.”

  I look around and nobody raises their hand. A few seconds pass.

  “Exactly,” I go on. “Somebody like that needed to be taken out, for the good of the gang. Because who knows what he might have done next? Who knows who he might have tried to kill?”

  “So why didn’t you talk to him about it?” Chloe says, still holding onto Matthias’s hand. “Why didn’t you tell him this instead of just shooting him in cold blood?”

  “Yeah,” Alyssa adds. “You’re saying, who knows who he might have tried to kill next? Well, who knows who you might try to kill next? Huh? What’s to say that any of us are safe around you?”

  “You never talked to us about it, man,” Tyrone says, a look of disappointment in his eyes. “It was just you and your woman. You didn’t include us in any of it.”

  “And why her?” Kendal asks, pointing at Trista. “Why not any of the rest of us? Don’t we mean anything to you?”

  “You’ve only known her for a month,” Chris points out. “How do you know you can trust her?”

  “Hey, everybody leave Trista out of this,” I warn them. “Killing Maddox was my idea. I’m the one who did it. And yes, I trust Trista. That should be enough for anybody.”

  “It’s not,” Chloe says. “You might trust Trista, but I don’t. All I know is she waltzed in here a month ago, and in that time you’ve been more distant around us and now Maddox is dead. Because of her.”

  “None of us are safe,” Kendal says. “Not while she’s around.”

  “What are you saying?” I ask them, starting to get angry. “Just what in the fuck are you trying to say?”

  But before anyone can answer the front door of the warehouse bangs open. We all turn our heads at the sound. Inside my anger-addled mind my first thought is that it’s Will, finally come to discuss things. But it’s not. A bunch of people pour in instead.

  “Hello there, you fucking Bullets!” shouts a voice.

  My stomach feels like ice has just dropped into it. Leather jackets. Guns in every hand. And the guy in front, over six feet tall with jet black hair, holding a shotgun in both hands. Jake Hawksley. The Chains.

  My group is hesitant for only a minute, but soon everybody scrambles, spreading out. Guns get taken out of holsters. People move behind shelves for safety. The only person who hasn’t moved is Trista. She looks like she’s frozen in place.

  “Whoa whoa whoa!” I shout as people yell, guns cock, and feet scuff against the ground. “Wait! Just wait!”

  Jake raises a hand and the Chains behind him stop in place, all spread out. There are half a dozen of them, just a couple shorter than our number. But they’ve come prepared, and they’ve got the drop on us. My heart is racing. I need to stop this before it starts.

  “What’s this about, Jake?” I ask him. He cocks his head to the side and gives me a strange look for a second.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” he says. “You fuckers attacked us. In the middle of a truce!”

  The guns rustle and I can feel the tension in the air. I take a step closer to Trista, who’s still rooted to the spot.

  “Don’t move!” Jake yells.

  “Okay!” I shout back, stopping in place.

  “That was unforgivable, what you all did,” Jake tells me.

  “It wasn’t our idea,” I decide to try. “It was Will’s. He was the one who wanted to break the truce. He wanted to fuck you over, not us! We were just following orders.”

  “Yeah?” Jake says. “Well this is my idea. And my Chains here? They’re just following orders too.”

  Their guns all raise, and I can feel the guns on our side raise too. Jake racks his shotgun, a horrible sound.

  “Wait, Jake!” I shout. My heart is pounding in my chest. I just want to go home. “We have to talk! We … I have a plan!”

  “The time for talk is over,” he says, his voice sounding oddly calm. “See you in hell.”
>
  I make a dive for Trista.

  Jake pulls the trigger.

  And it begins.

  THE END

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