Red

by Kim Jones

  I’ve been fighting with my body, battling with my demons, and playing fucking rugby with my mind to keep me focused as soon as I regain consciousness. Today is day three of operation ‘Red Fights Back’ and it is working. Something in my gut tells me that today will be the day, and I am more than ready for it.

  Above the stove are two cabinets that are never used for anything. Today, they house a small bag I’ve packed with a few days’ worth of supplies. I only need a change of clothes, my cash stash, cigarettes and some Oreos. And I packed a can of Ravioli’s too. I’m such a fat ass.

  I don’t know when Chip will show up, but I have everything in place for when he does. Clothes lay scattered on the bathroom floor, but they only appear that way. They are laid out perfectly for me to just throw on in case I get a chance to run. I’ve practiced for hours and am thankful that no one was around to watch. My tennis shoes are just outside the bathroom door with a towel thrown over them. I’ve thought of everything- or at least everything I can in my current state.

  Today, I’m not a junkie. I’m not some washed up stripper who is just gonna lay down and die. Today, I am a fighter. I will scratch, hit, bite, pinch, pull hair and do anything else crazy bitches do when they’ve had enough. And I’ve had enough of Chip.

  ***

  “Hey gorgeous!” Chip says, looking entirely too fucking happy on a…whatever damn day this is. “Did you miss me?”

  “Like the plague,” I mutter, uninterested in his sweet talk. “Just give me my shit and go.” I always say the same words, but it never works. Hell, it was worth the try.

  “Well, I missed you.” He doesn’t even acknowledge my smartass remark, and I’m slightly offended. That was a good one. “You know, I’m going to break you one day, Red. One day, you’re not gonna have that spark.” Prior to today, if I had a spark, I wasn’t aware of it. I was like striking a lighter that had been submerged in water for hours. Hey- that was a good one. I need to write that down.

  “Reckon you could get me some crossword puzzles or a video game or something? I’m getting a little bored around here.” He laughs at my requests, taking a seat on the couch across from me. Ninety percent of my time is spent in this recliner, wearing Regg’s shirt and forcing food down my throat. No way was I going back to looking like a starved model. I’d die first. Hey- that’s not a bad idea. If this doesn’t work out, early death by starvation would be a good way to go. I need to write that one down too.

  “If only I could trust you, Red. I would be able to offer you a life like you could never imagine.”

  “Yeah, well if grandma would’ve had a dick, she would have been grandpa.” This earns me another round of laughter, and I roll my eyes. “Glad I can amuse you.”

  As always, pumping me full of dope is a challenge. When you shoot up daily, veins become weak and tend to collapse. Sometimes, it can be a bloody mess, and I mean that literally- not as a bit of Australian slang. This time is no different. I’m used as a pin cushion until the only vein that can be found is between my toes. I don’t know why Chip doesn’t give me powder, but I guess it’s because he likes to torture. Fine. Whatever makes him happy.

  Seconds after the heroin is flowing through my blood stream, I feel that familiar sense of warmth engulf me. My eyes roll to the back of my head, and I become relaxed and forced into a state of delirium. It may be bad for me. It may be the worse form of hell I’ve ever experienced. But this shit feels amazing. I’m falling through the air with nothing to hold on to, and I pray like hell that at some point, I finally hit bottom.

  I land, and the thud I hear isn’t me hitting bottom, it’s the sound of the door closing. This is where Chip has fucked up. This is the silent message his bouncer has been giving me. Every time a needle is put in me, I guess they all go out for celebration. The man who usually guards my door, leaves and doesn’t return for about an hour.

  I’ve been building up a resistance to the drug since I found this out. Considering I only found out three days ago, I’m not sure I’m ready for this. But, the fear of staying here longer outweighs the fear I have of trying.

  I’m fucked up. My body is struggling against the feeling of euphoria that is pumping its way through my system with every beat of my heart. But, like I said, today I’m a fighter. I want to give up when I see that Wheel of Fortune is coming on; it’s the highlight of my day. I dig deep and find the will to get my sorry ass out of the recliner. I don’t have much time.

  Running… or skipping, maybe moon-walking, but in all reality- crawling, I make my way to the bathroom. Putting my clothes on comes as a challenge even though I practiced it to perfection. I pull on my tennis shoes, grab the bag above the stove, and slip out the front door of my apartment.

  Now, I could run to a neighbors. I could call the police, or Regg or Luke, but I don’t know who is on Chip’s payroll and I refuse to blow this. If I’m caught, he might kill me this time. So, I do the only thing I’m can- I run.

  Well, I don’t run. I can’t. I’m still too fucked up and everything I see makes me smile. It’s so beautiful outside, and I have a desire to touch everything. Somehow, I make it to the parking lot, but I’m stopped by a black Lincoln town car that I recognize as one of Chip’s. I open my mouth to scream. At this point, all I can hope for is that someone will hear me and come to my rescue.

  The passenger door flies open and my angel, Chip’s body guard, comes into view. He’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

  “Get in the car, Red!” he’s yelling at me, and I take a moment to put my finger over my lips. Grabbing my arm, he jerks me inside. “Dammit, Red.”

  “What?” I ask, as he speeds through the parking lot and out into the street.

  “I shit faster than you walk.” What the fuck?

  “Yeah? Well, what does that tell you about your digestive system? Sounds like you need to get that shit checked.”

  “Look, I’m taking you to a rehab place. You can check in anonymously, then call your family from there.” Yeah, that isn’t gonna happen. After Chip told me he wouldn’t do anything to Todd or Regg anyway, there is no need for me to contact them. No way was I calling them in the state I am in. I would get clean first, then I’d go home, maybe. I’d call first. If Regg wasn’t with anyone, then I’d go crawling back and beg for his forgiveness. But, I’ll never tell him anything. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would still hunt Chip down and kill him. I wasn’t gonna let that happen. Not after everything I’ve been through.

  “Thank you for this,” I say, looking into his bright blue eyes. He’s cute, in a scary way. He has a long, black beard, is built like a tank, covered in tattoos and his ears are pierced. He looks more like a biker than a body guard. “By the way, I didn’t catch your name.” He gives me a look, like he’s deciding whether he should tell me who he is or not.

  “Just call me Shark.” Shark. I like that name. A word that would send most people running away in fear, yet here I am running away with him.

  “Well Shark, I’m Red. It’s nice to meet you.” He gives me a smile, showing me his huge white teeth that are sharp and pointy- or maybe they’re just normal. I don’t know. I’m still fucked up.

  “I know exactly who you are.” Well, okay then.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Guns, Blood and Sock Puppets

  Regg

  “Where the fuck is she?” I roar into the face of the infamous Chip. This motherfucker looks nothing like a notorious drug dealer, he looks like a high school principal.

  “I-I don’t know!” I push the barrel of my stolen piece into the side of his neck a little harder. I’m not sure, but I think he just pissed his pants. His goons stand around the room, arms behind their heads as my guys hold them at gunpoint. A local support chapter hooked us up with some heat, and we are definitely using it to our advantage. “She left a week ago. I haven’t seen her.”

  “If you don’t have her, and you don’t know where she is, then I guess we don’t need you anymore.” I back away f
rom him, aiming the barrel of my nine straight at his chest. I see the worried look in Luke’s eyes, but I ignore him. This asshole is fixing to talk, and he doesn’t need his kneecaps to do it.

  “Wait! I have a guy. He used to work for me. He’s gone. MIA since the day Red went missing.” Keeping one hand out in front of him for protection, he reaches over with the other and pulls a card from his desk, knocking shit over in the process. “His name is Shawn. He doesn’t live far from here.” I look down at the card that lists his name, his title as head of security and a phone number.

  “If he don’t answer, you’re dead.” I watch Chip’s eyes grow in fear at my promise. I’ll kill him and there isn’t a Devil in the room that can stop me.

  I dial the number, keeping my eyes trained on Chip while it rings once, twice…

  “Yeah?”

  “Is this Shawn?” I growl into the phone, daring the motherfucker to have my woman.

  “Who is this?”

  “This is Devil’s Renegades Regg. We need to talk.”

  There’s no point in meeting Shawn, because he tells me exactly what I need to know over the phone before I even ask him to. Apparently, he helped Red get away from Chip and drove her to a private rehab facility. The mention of the word ‘rehab’ has me training my gun on Chip once again. I’m given the address and a promise of help if we need anything else.

  I’m torn between killing Chip and leaving to go get Red. I want to do both, but I know that once I pull the trigger, I won’t be the only man that kills someone tonight. My brothers will react on impulse and shoot any witnesses left standing in the room. The music is loud, but I don’t know if it’s loud enough to cover six gunshots. We aren’t really incognito either. Even though we all wore black, there is no denying that we’re a gang or brotherhood of some sort. Too many eyes witnessed us coming into the club. After several minutes of thinking, I know that Chip has to die- it just won’t be tonight.

  “I’m asking you to let me handle this,” Luke practically begs. I know his version of handling it. He gives Charlie Lott a call, Lott takes out Chip and in return, he inherits his enterprise. Everybody wins.

  “I’m telling you to let Luke handle it,” Ronnie says, coming to stand beside me. Well, I have my orders. I will not disobey my president. It isn’t in me to deny this man the respect he deserves. He didn’t get where he is not knowing what in the hell he is doing.

  I lower my gun, handing it off to Ronnie.

  “I only need a few minutes.” Ronnie knows what I’m asking, and at the nod of his head, I get the few minutes that’s due to me. This is for my brother. This is for my club. This is for my Red -the woman he tried to destroy. Everything fades to black. I let my desire to kill fuel me as I give this man not even half of what he’s put my woman through.

  The sound of my fists meeting his flesh is the only sound in the room. Lucky for him, he is unconscious by the second blow, but I don’t stop. By the time they pull me off of him, he’s almost unrecognizable. Charlie Lott won’t have a hard time figuring out who the man that needs a bullet is. All he’ll have to do is find the one that has a face that looks like it’s been put through a meat grinder.

  Luke makes the call and before we leave a team of men show up to takeover. I don’t know what this will cost the club, but the favor is one we will be more than happy to repay. We’ll be leaving Vegas in less than twenty-four hours. Our club will be whole, free and Red will be with us.

  ***

  Green Acres is a weird fucking name for a rehab facility, and I’m surprised to not find the song playing over the loud speaker when I walk in. The place looks like a resort, and I’m sure Red is taking full advantage of it. Shawn agreed to meet us here and now stands with me and my brothers on our mission.

  I’m nervous to see her, but more anxious to have her in my arms. The sweet girl at the front desk nearly falls over when all of us walk through the door. When I ask for Denny Deen, she frowns and shakes her head, telling me that no one by that name is here. Shawn has me asking under the name ‘Mary West’. When that brings me another round of bad news, I become impatient with our friend Shawn. He then tells me that she probably went in anonymously to prevent Chip from finding her. This leaves me at a dead end.

  “If she checked in under another name, I can’t tell you. We take the privacy act very seriously.” I offer her my best smile, she doesn’t budge. Luke steps in and offers his, she doesn’t budge. When Possum’s up, she caves a little, but doesn’t tell us shit. I’m ready to choke the life outta this bitch. I bet she’d tell me then. Ronnie is on board with me, ready to get the hell out of Vegas and back home to real food. Priorities.

  Just as I’m ready to hold her at gunpoint, laughter fills the lobby in front of us. It’s a laugh I know all too well and one I’ve missed too fucking much. My beautiful redheaded woman is standing in the lobby less than fifteen feet from me. She looks amazing, her smile is genuine and on her hand is a sock puppet- go fucking figure. But, it’s the shirt she wears that has me frozen. It’s not just the way it clings to her great tits or the way the neck is cut out giving me a view of her amazing fucking cleavage-it’s the words inscribed on the front in orange, glittery shit. PROPERTY OF REGG. My girl might have been through hell, but her Devil was here to save her, and she hadn’t given up on me coming.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Making Memories

  Red

  Green Acres. What kind of fucking name is that? I’ve played the damn song in my head a million times, but haven’t heard it once. It’s so aggravating forgetting song lyrics and not having any way of researching them. Green Acres thrives on being a technology forbidden place, so there is no T.V., radio or computers. Some of the girls have stooped low enough to make sock puppets to entertain them with. I am one of those girls. I know it sounds stupid, but exercising our creative minds is one step closer in the healing process. Or, that’s what in the hell the counselor keeps telling us.

  I made a friend. Sherrie, or Chi Chi as I refer to her, was once a known affiliate in the club industry too. She wasn’t a stripper, but she was a bad ass bartender who’d been able to use her skills to bring life to the terrible fucking kool-aid they served us in the cafeteria. She is also a victim of the sock puppet game that has become the highlight of our lives.

  I’m clean. My withdrawals from the heroin were a hell of a lot easier to deal with here than they were at Regg’s. They weaned me off of it slowly instead of forcing me to quit cold turkey. It cost me every dime I had, but the place was really nice with a pool, a workout room and a basketball gym that I use to dance. Of course, I have to make up the lyrics in my head, but I found myself and my spirit once again. And I’m pretty good at exotic dancing to the Green Acres theme song.

  In my state of depression that always seems to come with the lack of drugs in my system, I find myself missing Regg more than ever. I’ve gone as far as daydreaming that I am his property and that his name is proudly worn on my back. During crafts one day, I even made a property shirt out of one of his old t-shirts. It is now my favorite and I wear it every day.

  I’m walking through the lobby on my way to my support group meeting, sock puppet in hand and wearing my handmade t-shirt. Chi Chi is with me, proudly sporting her own sock puppet that has now just become a stab at the counselors and their boring talk. If they want to treat us like children, then why not act like children? They are making enough money that they shouldn’t give a shit either way.

  We’re laughing about something stupid, as always, when I hear Chi Chi take in a sharp breath. Turning, I see that she has stopped walking and her eyes are focused on the front doors of the lobby. I turn to see what holds her attention and nearly faint.

  Six members of the Devil’s Renegades stand tall at the front desk, along with Shark who only has eyes for Chi Chi- unless he’s looking at me like that, which I’m sure he’s not because I hold the eyes of everyone else. One set of soft brown eyes pulls me in and almost has me floating across the room. />
  In all of his soft cut, blonde haired, brown eyed, six foot glory, stands the unmistakable Regg-my Regg. His fingers move with the urge to touch something. I’m sure it’s me. He looks like he’s fighting some kind of internal battle, and I know the moment it’s won and which side is the victor. Closing the distance in only a few strides, I’m taken into arms I never thought I’d feel hold me again.

  He takes a moment to just hold me, smell me and run his big, calloused hands through my hair. When he takes my face between his hands, everything that needs to be said isn’t done verbally. I can see the relief in his eyes along with passion, victory and love. Unable to keep my lips from his, I claim his mouth-letting everyone know that this one belongs to me.

  His taste is powerful, awakening something inside of me that I thought had died. We can’t get enough of each other as we make out like two teenagers in a movie theatre- nothing but tongues and lips and horny passion. I want to fuck him right here in the lobby of Green Acres-theme song be damned.

  After the sound of cleared throats starts to sound like the sounds of a ten year old dog with heart worms, he breaks the kiss, but keeps his face so close to mine that our noses touch.

  “I love you, Red. And I’m here to take you home.” I close my eyes at his words. Home. I’m finally going home. A place where Regg and I can pick up where we left off. A place that has been void of any woman other than me. “Tell me, Red,” he demands, and I know the words that he longs wants to hear. But, I still owe him one from a long time ago. And today, I finally get a chance at payback.

  “What in the hell took you so long?”

  ***

  The best part about a ride is the gas station stop. When everyone gets off their bikes, lights up a smoke, cracks open a Mountain Dew and talks about the shit that happened while on the road. During that time, other shit always seems to happen to make life long memories with. I guess a ride, doesn’t matter if it’s by bike, car or plane, has the potential to make some pretty damn great memories. Ours started in the taxi ride to the airport.