by Delilah Hunt
“His name is Chase,” Larke answered quietly. “He’s also not a mystery man. You’ve seen him before.” She blew out an unsteady breath. “Remember that guy we saw in the bowling alley, the one at the counter when everyone got real quiet.”
Riva opened her mouth in shock. “Your mystery man is Davey, the clerk?”
Maybe at some other time she would’ve found that funny. “No, not him.”
Riva frowned. “The only other guy was that…” Her near jet black eyes widened into orbs. “Are you serious?”
“Don’t look like that,” Larke begged her friend. Her throat felt clogged fearing Riva would tell her she was a horrible person. Riva didn’t. She scooted over and placed her arm around Larke’s shoulder. “What happened? I won’t make any jokes. Talk to me.”
Larke did. She poured her heart out, excluding the intimate and personal details she knew Chase would not appreciate her sharing.
“Seeing that black guy in the library made you feel like a bad person?”
Larke nodded. “Do you think I am?”
“We both know you’re not a bad person. I’m not a psychologist, but I think anyone in your position would feel some form of guilt. You shouldn’t beat yourself up about it, especially since you and Chase have a history.”
“I wasn’t planning to,” Larke told her. “I couldn’t because whatever guilt I feel doesn’t compare at all to how hard I’m falling for Chase.”
Riva pursed her lips. “Do you think he’s in love with you?”
“I don’t know.” I hope so.
“I mean if the two of you were in love then none of this white supremacy stuff would be an issue anymore, right? He’d leave it all behind for you.” Riva eyed her carefully before adding. “Larke, he’d have to.”
All evening long after she had left her friend’s apartment, Larke thought back to what Riva said. He’d have to.
It was the obvious truth. Chase had to know this too. She hoped he did.
16
The first thing Chase noticed when he walked inside Trevor’s house was the pungent scent of cigarettes, vomit, and alcohol. He stepped over a couple empty cans of beer and made his way out to the back, where he could see wafts of smoke curling into the air. Chase glimpsed the kitchen table on his way out. Thankfully there was no sign of meth since it seemed Trevor was determined to spend his last days, weeks, months, whatever amount of time he had left in a haze of self-indulgence.
Chase wished he could spend more time doing as he pleased because all he wanted was to be with his girl right now instead of here. Sure he’d seen Larke regularly since coming back from Lake Walnut two weeks ago, but damn, even regularly wasn’t enough. Because that meant sometimes he’d go a day or two between seeing her.
He pushed the sliding doors apart and was soon outside, standing next to Trevor. His stepfather’s face was thinner than the last time Chase had seen him, which was three days ago. The skin appeared to droop over whatever flesh was left underneath.
Trevor took a draft of the cigarette and turned to him, a grin on his now ugly face. “Ain’t nothing like going out doing what a man loves best, huh?”
Chase forced a chuckle. “No females?” Sadly there were some in Antebellum Resistance who would still fuck Trevor, even in this condition.
“Like-minded, ain’t we son?” He threw the cigarette butt on the ground, beside an already growing pile. “You’ll soon learn that as capitán here, there’s always an unlimited supply of bitches willing to––”
Chase cut him off. “There’s only one female I got my eyes on,” he muttered, speaking the truth out of annoyance. “You got any news from the doctors how things are going?” he asked, changing the topic.
Trevor snorted. “Nope. Just waiting around to meet my Maker. And ready to hear you say you can handle the job hundred percent. Got the feeling you’re iffy about it all. Maybe I’m wrong. Hope I’m wrong,” he added with emphasis. “I’d sure hate to go through them pearly gates o’ Saint Peter’s and have to explain to Joe why his beloved grandson is too pussy to take over the greatest movement this side of the Mississippi.”
Chase stared at Trevor. The truth was, some days he wasn’t sure he believed in Heaven despite religion having been crammed down his throat as a boy. Instead of learning math and science he’d been learning how God created different races for a reason and that intermixing them was direct opposition and slap in the face of God’s will.
But the innocent reporter his grandfather killed... That had to be the most blatant disregard for God’s will. He knew the Ten Commandments. Knew right from wrong. What was legal from illegal. Why had they chosen to obsess about race of all things? Why would murder be acceptable but treating other races with respect, not?
Chase couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Don’t you ever wonder if you, me, any of us, really, would actually get past those gates on the other side. I mean, we’re not complete saints, right?” His own silence about a horrible crime surely meant he was going to hell. Where his grandfather was and more than likely where Trevor was headed...if such a place existed.
Trevor let out a harsh laugh. “Since when you become a goddamn preacher?” He laughed again. “Fuck no, I ain’t never wondered no bullshit like that. Heaven was created for us, Chase. God knows we’re suffering some kinda hell down here and ZOG is the devil, tormenting white people. That’s why…”
Chase wasn’t sure when it happened but at some point, all the slurs, talks of a Zionist occupied government became like white noise. His mind was blocking it all out. Trevor’s voice remained in the background, like the low hum of a machine running. Chase was so tired of hearing the conspiracy theories and arguments about why non-whites were useless and a danger to society. Whether there was truth to any of it, somehow no longer seemed important or valid enough to center his entire life around.
When Trevor’s mouth finally stopped moving, he thought about reminding the man that at the end of the day, it was his own bad habits that led to his downfall––upcoming death. He, Trevor and no one else. But because of who he was, how he was raised, Chase kept quiet. No amount of talking would lure Trevor from his ‘truths’.
Also, like it or not. Chase knew he had a role to fulfill. One that had been chosen for him and no amount of pretending would change it.
The blood of his ancestors ran deep inside of him. He was a born and bred racist, an animal with a legacy to carry on. It wasn’t a matter of saying “Fuck it, I’m out” and walking away. Too many eyes were on him, expectations, hope, and goddamn trust that he would lead them. They were all waiting on him to stand between them and the threats from the Jewish controlled government and all the brown people who were beneath them.
It hurt even thinking that. Larke was so far from being beneath him. If anything, she was above him. He knew it and was positive she did too. She was his better half. Plain and simple. An asshole like Trevor would never understand that because he wouldn’t want to.
“If the doorbell rings, it’ll probable be one of them females you mentioned, coming over.”
Chase blinked, drawing himself out of his thoughts. He realized what Trevor was saying. “Serious?”
Trevor grinned. His yellowed teeth gleamed. “Not for me. Wish I could. Mind’s willing but the body just ain’t having it. It’s for you. Bet you thought I was joking when I said you needed a proper woman.”
“Who is she?”
“Haley. Heard she has a thing for you. She’s cute enough. Has some Italian blood in her but that ain’t an issue. I talked with her the other day. She wants you real bad, man.” He flicked a hand in the air. “ Go get that ass.”
Torn between disgust and amusement, Chase heard the doorbell ring exactly as Trevor had predicted.
Snorting, he looked behind at Trevor who had his eyes closed and another cigarette between his lips. Chase strode through the house to the front door. He opened it and sure enough, Haley was standing there. His gaze dropped from her face to her body. She was dresse
d nicely, wearing a red midriff that allowed him a view of her flat stomach and tiny waist along with white shorts, stopping just below her ass. If she’d dressed to entice him it wasn’t working. His dick was dead when it came to any female apart from his girl. Knew who it belonged to.
Haley’s red lips spread into a smile. “How’s it going?”
“It’s going. Same as always.”
She nodded slowly, her gaze coursing over him. “Can I come in? Trevor invited me over. He said maybe you and I should get to talking. He thinks we might have…things in common.”
“Trevor’s mistaken.”
She frowned. “Why do you say that? I don’t think I’ve made it a secret that I’m interested in you. I even saw that you called me back last month. I tried calling you a couple of times again, but I guess you were busy and we never found the right time.”
I’ve been ignoring you. For a second Chase thought about just telling her the plain truth. Him calling her that time had been a mistake. He’d been confused because of seeing Larke and finding himself attracted to her. All he’d wanted was to use the opportunity of easy sex that Haley would’ve offered, to try and erase Larke from his mind. It wouldn’t have worked and Chase was glad he’d hung up the phone before Haley had answered.
But the thing was, Haley wasn’t necessarily a bad person. She, like the rest girls who grew up here, was like him. They’d all grown up hearing the same stories, told what their duties were, where their loyalty rested. She barely knew him to have any real feelings for him, apart from wanting a nice hard fuck.
And now, with Trevor about to die, she knew he was next in line to lead one of the biggest neo-Confederate groups in North Carolina and wanted to be his girl. Yeah. No. Just no to fucking all of it.
Chase pinned her with a hard stare. “Listen. I know you think what you’re doing is good. Thing is, there’s not gonna be anything between us. I don’t care what Trevor told you. As a matter of fact, he’s right around back. You probably hear the coughing, so I’m sure he’ll need your attention more than I do.”
“I didn’t come here to see Trevor,” Haley argued. She titled her head to the side and raised her hand to touch him. The look on his face must have been warning enough because she immediately lowered it. “Well what do I say to Trevor?” she asked fearfully.
Chase raised his brows. This was insane. “Tell him I was an ass to you. As a matter of fact, you don’t need to tell him shit. Trevor can’t do anything and he doesn’t control you or any of us.”
She shifted her leg. “I-I guess you’re right. He is dying.”
Afterward, Chase shook his head as he climbed into his truck and watched Haley leave. It wasn’t normal that any of them should feel so controlled. Himself included. He then drove the short distance to his house. Inside the room he had set up as a work area of sorts, Chase tried and failed to concentrate on what exactly he wanted to do with the pieces of wood laid out in front of him. He set the chisel aside and glanced at all the items he’d carved in the past months. He’d never shown any of it to anyone. Not since he was a kid and his grandfather had found him with his chisel attempting to carve a deer. The old man had taken the piece and smashed it against the wall. “You ain’t no goddamn fairy. Don’t let me see you sitting here making pretty toys. You like deer, go out and fucking kill one.”
Chase pushed the memory aside. He still didn’t get what carving had to do with being soft or homosexual. That’s why he’d continued doing it as a kid, in secrecy, hiding the items he’d crafted in the back of his closet as he’d done with the necklace Larke had given him.
Now it’s Larke I’m hiding. Shame and nausea roiled in his gut. When his phone rang, Chase reached for it. It was Larke. For a second he contemplated not answering, afraid she would somehow be able to read his thoughts, hear the shame and guilt when he spoke. But of course. He answered, because fuck. It was Larke and he wanted to hear her voice so much and see her even more.
She was on her way home from running errands, so Chase suggested they meet somewhere in between. Both agreed on the plaza a couple of miles away. Right away after reaching the square, he spotted her dark green sedan in the parking lot and pulled up in the spot next to hers, which was in front of a hunting store. She’d texted him minutes before that she wanted to check out the place while waiting for him.
Chase smiled to himself as he pushed through the door. It made him feel good knowing how serious she’d been about wanting to hunt with him next season. The place was almost empty with no cashier in sight. He wasn’t surprised. Although this wasn’t the hunting store he’d worked at some years ago, he’d visited this one before and knew it was filled with lazy ass workers who were never around when anyone needed them. He strode toward the back of the store, lightly skimming the walls for anything interesting while keeping an eye out for Larke.
He didn’t see her right away but he did hear a voice––McNair’s. Immediately, Chase remembered McNair was also a big hunter. Still, there was no way he could’ve expected the other man to be here today. Now.
“What do you need help finding?” McNair asked. He was leaning against the wall mere inches from Larke, a smug grin on his face.
“I don’t need help,” she said. “All I want is for you to give me some space.”
Chase moved closer, anger simmering in his blood at the look on McNair’s face. It was the same taunting look he’d had on his face that night in the parking lot, when he’d toyed with Larke despite knowing she was afraid.
Chase saw the exact moment Larke glanced across the aisle and became aware of his presence. Her gaze caught his, yet she made no attempt to speak or go to him. She glanced at McNair again, mainly at his bare shoulder, which bore the same Confederate flag standing tall amid the fire and ashes tattoo. She was now looking between the two of them. A bite to the lip. Chase could swear he saw the pulse in her neck racing.
McNair broke the silence, turning to face him. “Hey Hudson. Lookie what I got here. Haven’t seen one of them in here in a long time. You?”
Chase ground his teeth, forcing himself to remain calm. “Can’t say that I have.”
Larke jerked her head up, staring at him, her eyes bleary with uncertainty. Remaining quiet, she tried to brush past McNair. Before Chase could take another step, the other man reached out, clamping his hand around her wrist. “Not so fast. See, my buddy and I ain’t ready for you to leave just yet.”
She peered up at him, her eyes wide with fear. His blood turned to ice. It wasn’t just McNair who had her scared. She was afraid of him too, unsure how he’d treat her when in the presence of his own kind. Chase shifted his gaze from her, ignoring the searing pain of the knife blade twisting inside him again. Always, when it came to Larke.
“Get your hands off her.”
“Don’t worry, man. I’ll wash my hands later.”
“No,” Chase bit out, his tone chilly. “You don’t understand.” He pointed a finger at McNair as he stormed over to them. “You need to get your nasty hands off her. Not the other way around.”
McNair went still. His eyes bulged and his lips curved into an ugly grin. Nodding slowly, he loosened his grip on Larke’s wrist, his gaze switching back and forth between them.
A long moment passed before McNair shook his head. He gestured at Larke with his thumb. “This your girl, Hudson? Was she waiting on you? Is that why she’s in here?” Chase clenched his jaw, allowing the man to finish his rant while taking note of Larke rubbing her wrist.
McNair gaped at him then let out a harsh chuckle. “Well fuck me. This is your goddamn female.”
Chase marched right up in his face, snarling at the shorter man. “She’s not a this. Her name isn’t any of your business, either. All you need to know is, she’s mine and there’s not a goddamn thing you, Trevor or anyone else can do about it.” He narrowed his eyes on McNair. “Matter of fact, that look on your face got me wondering if you’re disappointed I didn’t choose you. Are you a jealous, cunt? No? Then stop acting li
ke one and move the fuck on without worrying about who I’m fucking.”
McNair pushed away from him and snorted. “Jealous cunt. That’s a good one, Hudson. But tell me, what do you really think is gonna happen when everyone finds out our soon-to-be leader, is a nasty, dirty, motherfucking race traitor who’s been dipping his dick in an inkwell for God only knows how long.” McNair tsked and wagged a finger in the air. “That don’t sound too good to me.”
The urge to launch himself at McNair and rip out his throat was so strong. Chase was a second shy of doing just that when he felt Larke’s hand, gently touching him. “Please don’t, someone might come.” She said this softly, for his ears only.
He clenched his teeth, never taking his eyes off the other man. “Go back to the car,” he ordered her. She stared at him in confusion as Chase continued. “I want you to go outside, drive home and wait for me. I’ll come soon. Don’t worry.” Trust me.
She wrinkled her brows then gave a firm nod, looking over her shoulder while heading for the exit.
McNair whistled low. “Got that bitch trained too, huh?”
Chase zeroed in on the man he’d despised since childhood. “Shut your goddamn trap for a minute and answer me this. This time try to use your head before you open your mouth again. On a scale of one to ten, how dumb do you think I am?”
McNair curled his lips and sneered, “What the hell that got to do with you and your negro mistress? Or what’s gonna happen to you and the bitch when I let everyone know.”
Chase stepped up in McNair’s face, bearing down on him. “Cut the bullshit. You’re not scaring anyone.” His tone grew serious. “You see that girl who was in here. I’m gonna be honest with you. I care about her. Enough that I thought I could try and be a better person. That’s the only reason we’re standing here talking, as opposed to my fist down your throat. You remember the last time. So right now, you got two choices. You’re gonna keep your mouth real quiet about me and my girl until I’m goddamn good and ready to let everyone know. Or, we’re gonna discuss why you’ve suddenly developed a craving for tacos and burritos, when you can barely stand to look at a fucking Mexican.”