by Liz K. Lorde
His gray eyes, behind those black rimmed glasses, followed me as I shuffled a few steps closer. “This what constitutes as later?” The whip was in his voice, every word another lash against me. “MJ…”
Everything still felt floaty. I averted my eyes from his glare and put my hand on my wrist, “I got caught up.”
“Right,” he said, “come here and let me look at you,” Dad pushed himself from his recliner, the silvery wisps of his pushed back hair moving with him. When I didn’t immediately slink over to him for inspection, he violently growled: “Now, Madeline Jane. I know your ears work,” he fumed.
I wanted to get clean, wanted to find the peace I’d lost since Brandon…but the way Dad yelled at me just triggered something inside. Like salt on the wound, and the horrible urge to pick at a scab, I foolishly fought back. “Why?” I cried out, straightening out my back and pulling in a breath – I started to make my way for the stairs. “I was just having fun Dad, didn’t you ever do that? I wasn’t getting high so just leave me alone. Please.” Warmth pressed at the back of my neck.
Saying that was a mistake.
It only made him angrier. The lines of his face twisted into something dark. Most days, my father Cedric was good and caring and always one to listen. But when I acted the way that I did, and sometimes, once in a blue moon, even when I wasn’t being the way that I was, he would turn into something else. This frightening creature of a man. “Bullshit,” he spat and made angry strides to intercept me.
Felt like the world was one big hole that I just couldn’t stop from falling down. I shuffled backwards trying to keep him away from me; it was the shame that tore me apart, the guilt that I’d lied to him earlier – he already saw me as the villain, just like everyone else in my life. “Dad—“
“Come here,” his voice was a harsh whisper, and his hand shot out to grab my wrist. “Look at me,” he said, pulling hard and forcing me into place, “look at me. Look. See? God did you really think we weren’t going to notice?”
I tried to look away still, shaking my head as my ears picked up on the sound of a light turning on above us. “You’re hurting me,” I said, and when he eased his grip, I slipped my arm away.
His eyes became a shade softer, “Maddy…” he placed his hands on my shoulders while Mom crept down the stairs. “Why do this to yourself? I didn’t raise you to be like this, sweetheart.”
Everything started to go dead inside, and the greater part of me just wanted to crumple to the floor and be alone.
The stairs creaked in displeasure as Mom descended the last steps, her hand resting on the railing. “Cedric?” She asked, her sleepy voice tinged with worry, “Maddy. What’s going on?”
Dad looked to her, “Nothing, she just got home late,” he lied. Was it out of shame? Fresh stabs of it plunged into me. “Go ahead and go back to sleep,” he urged, and then sighed.
Of course Mom was never going to do that. So she stayed there at the mouth of the stairway, her brow raising. “Are you okay, Maddy?” Her voice was filled with genuine concern. She was wearing her blue nightgown, and her dark blond hair that fell just past her shoulders.
“Yes,” I replied, “I’m just tired,” that part wasn’t a fib, “can we all just go to bed?”
Mom’s blue eyes worked over me, no doubt trying to discern if she was dealing with sober me, or high me.
I tried to move past Dad, but he moved in front of me, “Hey we’re not done here young lady.”
My eyes slid between them, and I quietly pleaded with Dad to just drop it. Whisper soft, I told him, “Please Dad, I-I’m sorry okay?” Slipping my gaze down to my feet, I licked my lips, “I want to get better…I broke—“
“You need to get better, Madeline,” he scolded, cutting me off.
“Is she high, Cedric?” Mom asked.
Fire jumped in me, “I know! Okay?”
“Yeah well not from where I’m standing,” he placed his hands on his hips, and that darkened mask came back again.
“Cedric,” Mom urged, looking like she was almost ready to rip his head off if he didn’t talk to her.
“Ashley,” his voice was tinged with agitation, “go back to sleep. I’m handling this.” He looked at her.
The hurt sank into my bones, and the embarrassment was starting to drive me mad. “Dad, I’ll do it okay? I can do this,” I urged, “I want to try rehab again.”
Dad brought his face back to me, “I don’t believe you, Maddy. Really,” he snorted and then gave a dark, chuckled amusement that made my guts wrench. “I just don’t anymore. The way you dress was one thing, the way you – you coast through life—“
“Cedric,” Mom was trying to soften the edge in his voice.
He kept going, “I’ve lost my little girl. We lost our boy, and you know – he’d just be so ashamed, Madeline. We’ve lost you.”
The next words out of my mouth came out in a bitter legato: “Maybe he wouldn’t have offed himself if you hadn’t kept pushing.”
Mom gasped, and Dad’s face contorted into this horrible mask of disgust and disdain. When the back of his hand moved, to me it only looked like a blur. It struck me hard, and I bellowed as I fell to the floor.
She called out his name, flew over to him and pushed at his chest before moving to me.
The pain throbbed hard in my cheek, and I sniffled as I looked up at them.
Mom tried to help me up, asking if I was okay. Dad looked horrified at what he’d done, and he slowly tried to approach us with outstretched hands – apologizing over and over.
With the help of my mother, I picked myself up and squeezed out a hot tear. I couldn’t look at them a second longer, so I dashed over to the door and tried to ignore them calling out for me as I disappeared into what remained of the night.
8
Gabriel
It was already past midday and I’d been lucky enough to get some time off of reconnaissance duty. So I was sitting my happy ass down on the blue, behemoth of a couch, located in the front lounge. Word around the way, was that Sexton had gone off with a few prospects to scope out one of the clubs that the Steel Knights owns. Guess it was intended that he talk, or more likely in his case, fuck, some intel out of the girls on just what our old, wayward brotherhood was up to. Shit had been quiet, except as of the last four weeks. More and more people were letting us know that the New Knights were being called ‘posers’ or ‘gash owned piss-boys.’
Made my blood boil to hear them tear us down like that, after all that we’d done and worked for.
Ignited an itch that I couldn’t scratch, to bust a few heads and let them know what was what. Couldn’t imagine how Luke kept such a cool head about it. Guess that’s what he runs this show and not me – I sipped my beer, sinking back further into the comfort of the couch. Never was one to lead up front, anyway. Controlling things from the shadows was more my style.
There was a noise behind me of the door being opened. Haymitch and our newest golden boy Prospect, Madwild, walked on through the clubhouse’s front doors. Craned my head to look over at ‘em and sipped my Steel Reserve. “You guys look like dog shit,” I said, a cocky smile spreading on my face. They were dressed up in their blue mechanic uniforms; a few splotches of sweat had dampened their clothes, and I could make out a thin layer of sweat covering their heads – stains of oil were evident, all along their fingers.
Just recently patched, Haymitch Patchwork Pondarose shot a glare my way, “Yeah well while you’re sitting around getting your drink on, we’re busting ass.” Haymitch strode over towards the bar, running a hand through his dampened, dark brown hair. He had a thick head full of it, and typically it was parted hard to the left with some hemp styling gel.
“Being Vice President has benefits, Patch.” And it had plenty of its downsides too, my mind went back to that ambush – the sound of hellfire roaring through the tight, little café that was crowded with civilians. The kiss of bullets, and the sickly warmth that had flooded me; I remember falling to my knees and
being filled with so much hate, so much anger.
Pulling me from the moment, Madwild walked on over to the back of the couch, a tight smirk on his lips as he looked at me with his purple eyes. Not that they were natural in any way; those were all the contacts that he had to wear. He told us that before he was even six-fucking-teen, that he couldn’t see the menus anymore at Taco Bell.
Jethro Madwild Constantine, then placed his big ass hands – which were more like fucking bear claws – on top of the couch, and swung himself over it – plopping down beside me. The man extended a hand to me, and we clasped, giving one another a brotherly nod. “I’m dying over here,” the man called out in his baritone voice. He then went straight for the icy, sixteen ounce Steel Reserve in my hand.
We battled over it briefly, before the man finally conceded. Thirsty or no, like hell he was gonna get at my brew. There was a bright smile on Mad’s face, and he lurched back into his side of the couch. He looked over to Haymitch, “Get me a cold one, ‘Mitch,” Madwild’s eyes slid over to me then, and he rumbled.
Tilting my beer back and having a drink, I said, “You know, my dad wouldn’t even let me get something to drink when I was a kid. When I was sweating my ass off.” In actuality, it was Mr. Death that tried to have me killed from dehydration. Something about being a pussy, and that it’d build up my character – felt my teeth clench together just at remembering that sick bastard’s voice.
Madwild grumbled, “Fascinating.”
“Oh,” I replied, giving a single, unimpressed chuckle. “Sorry that I bored you with my socializing,” I scooped up the TV remote, looked him dead in the eye, and turned the volume up as loud as it would go. An amused smirk walked along the lines of the man’s face, just as Haymitch was coming over with a cooler of drinks.
I threw the controller at Madwild’s chest, and he clumsily caught it against his chest. Satisfied with myself, I kicked my feet up onto the black, wooden table. Haymitch settled the cooler at the foot of the couch beside Madwild, and after setting down a couple of beers for each of us – and a bottle of water for himself, he then plunked himself down between us. Some MMA fight blasted from the TV until Haymitch robbed the controller from Madwild and turned it down.
When Madwild downed a beer in one go, he won another notch of respect from me – and a second notch when he, without hesitation, went for another.
Haymitch kicked up his legs and slung his arms over both of us, pulling us all in for a sort of hug. He sighed, “Come on now, can’t we all just get along?” He was always one to go from sunshine and rainbows, to shouting and cursing like a sailor. Moody son f’ bitch. Me and Wild were smiling, but also trying to pull away. “You know,” Haymitch continued, “Just sit back, get pissed and watch these professionals beat each other’s head into a bloody pulp.”
Slipping from the dude’s grasp, I said, “’Bout ready to beat your head in.”
That was when the phone rang.
It was just off the side of the bar, hanging from the wall. I looked over to Haymitch, who took a moment as the phone rang before looking at me. Then I said, “All you, bro.”
“Really?” He said, and Madwild kept an arm draped over Haymitch’s shoulder. “You’re closer,” he said, “you go and get it, VP.”
I pointed to where my title would be on my chest and smirked, “Consider it an order,” I said with an air of playfulness to my voice. “We all do our part, and grunt work humbles us.”
Madwild laughed at that, and then sipped from his beer.
Haymitch rolled his eyes, “Don’t believe you,” he grunted, before pushing himself from the couch and striding over to the phone. I scratched at my stubble idly while he spoke on the phone, and he said: “Yeah. Yeah he’s here, you need to speak with him? Alright. We cleared out the last car in the shop, just waiting on printing out the invoice.” Haymitch’s eyes slid over to me, and he motioned for me to come over.
Moving to him, he shoved the corded landline into my chest and before walking away, whispered, “It’s the Prez.”
I nodded and thanked Patchwork, bringing the phone to my ear. “Sir, always a pleasure to hear from you, sir,” I joked, hopping up onto the counter.
“Cut it with that shit,” Luke clipped. “I’m just getting out of a meet. Need you to come and see me, got something to ask of you – and I know you’re not gonna like it.”
“Anything to get me out of the clubhouse,” I said, “I’ll take whatever.”
Luke let out a stifled laugh, “Your words, brother. I’m heading up from the State Park, so meet me on our trail by Whitefeather.”
“Understood,” I hung up and adjusted my cut, swaggering across the room to the front door and called out to my brothers: “I’ll be back. Don’t have too much fun without me.”
The two of them waved me off without looking back at me or saying a word.
***
After a quick drive to hit up our meet, I’d parked my on the shoulder of the road by Luke’s FX-50. Cutting through the lush, Cypress trees, I made my way down the dirt path until I came across Luke sitting on an overturned log. The log itself was covered in moss, and Luke was resting with his elbows on his knees.
He turned his head when he noticed me, and a crooked smile walked along the lines of his face. “Telling you now, you’re not gonna like this.”
I stretched out my arms, “Oh well? I’m here now, aren’t I?”
“Yep,” Luke said, and then tapped a spot beside himself, “come and sit, brother.”
Clasping hands with the President, I gave him a brief embrace before seating myself on the log. “How’d it go with guy?” I asked, and then snapped my fingers trying to remember the man’s name, “with uh…Fenris?”
“Went good,” Luke nodded, “he’s willing to give us three good men. Well equipped, too. Just need to lock down when we do this.”
If it sent fire through my veins at the way the Los Demonios treated Jasmine Giuseppe, I couldn’t imagine the rage that Luke must have felt. “Excellent.”
“Now about this one, little thing…” Luke’s eyes glinted with mischief. “My old lady had a phone call last night, woke us up from a dead sleep.” He cracked his knuckles, and I could just tell I wasn’t going to like this special assignment. “There’s this girl,” Luke started, his jaw dropping an inch, “real pretty, bottled lightning kind of creature. Jasmine’s got this thing for her, I guess because she ripped her from the jaws of death or some shit.”
“She does tend to do that,” I added.
Luke smiled, “F’you shut your mouth for like five seconds, this’ll go a lot quicker.” I put my hands up in acknowledgement, and he continued: “So apparently this girl OD’d. Supposed to have a nasty habit, and she doesn’t have anyone to turn to. Jasmine’s still got a bunch on her plate…” That was when it hit me. He was going to have me babysit this druggie.
“Luke,” I said. “The next words out of your mouth—“
That damn smile came back on his lips, and I hated him for it. “Are ones that you’re not going to like. I told you this. You’ve got room at your place—“
“I don’t have time to play daddy to some spoiled little girl,” I felt my jaw tighten as I looked away from the Prez.
“Yeah,” he said, “well maybe you’ve earned a break. Even before all of this shit I’d been working you too hard, since that fuckin’ incident.” Chills ran through me; instantly I was brought back to that horrible moment, that moment where I thought everything was going to come to an end. “Help get her through this, Gabriel.”
I brought myself off of the log and slowly paced a few steps forward, my boots pressing against the blades of grass and dirt. Turning to face Luke, I put my hands on my hips and tilted my head, “I won’t like it.”
“Not asking you too.”
“She won’t like me, either. You think some junkie’s gonna want a Lifer to order her around?”
“The girl needs help,” Luke looked me dead in the eye, “everyone needs it now and a
gain. She’ll listen to you, and despite whatever you think or say – I know you’ve got a softer spot than most. You were always more country and charm, bro. Try and use it.”
I exhaled a hard breath through my nose. “Why not have her go to rehab?”
“She’s tried that, she says. Or at least that’s what Jasmine told me in bed last night. Listen, I need you on board for this – the hell’s wrong with you anyway, man?”
I looked my brother up and down, studying his face. “What?”
Luke pushed himself off of the log, the birds hanging out in the trees chirping along some jaunty tune. He walked over to me, “I mean you’ve got too much pride. You’re embarrassed to be taking care of a junkie, but you don’t have problems with pushing product?” I clicked my tongue and sighed. “We’re not on the straight and narrow, Gabe. We won’t be for years. I’m asking you, man to man, help this girl learn to live.”
Learning to live. Not much of a harder thing to do in this world. I was quiet for a moment, continuing to look my Prez in the eye; his baby blue and chocolate eyes locking with mine. “Alright,” I finally conceded, in something of a low, angry roar. I brought my hands from my hips and crossed them over my chest, “alright. I’ll do it. But I’m telling you, Luke. Jasmine can kiss my fucking ass if she thinks I’m going to baby this girl. It’s my way, or it’s not happening.”
Luke placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed, his lips curling into an amused smile. “Always our way, brother. Always.”
Little did we know, it wasn’t our way things were going down. It was fates.
9
Madeline
No matter how much I scrubbed and I scrubbed, the stupid dishes just never seemed to come clean. I’d finished serving the customers up front at Alicia’s, and being the dutiful employee that I tried to be – decided that I’d help Robert, our dishwashing employee, with his workload. I heard the door open behind me, and I craned my head as the water rushed from the faucet; Robert took a final drag of his cigarette, and then stamped it out on the wall.
He looked over towards me, his smile covered by a bushy orange beard, “Thanks, MJ.”