Arrow of Time (Marauders)

by Andersson, Lina

  “Because... I'd like you to have my ink.”

  “Be your Old Lady?” She said with creased eyebrows and a small smile on her lips.

  He knew she wasn't crazy about the entire 'Old Lady thing,' as she often referred to it. She liked the club, got along with the other guys, and the fact that she'd just started to help with gunshot wounds had impressed more than one of the members. Although the subject most often discussed regarding her and that lockdown was that she fucked up the chicken salad. What she had a problem with on occasion was how women were treated in general and the drama between the women.

  “Babe, I know this is... an idea you're not crazy about, but it would mean a lot to me. I'd offer to do some ink for you, but I'm pretty sure you'd just say that it wouldn't be noticed anyway.”

  “That is what I would say,” she agreed.

  “I won't put it out there, for everyone. I was thinking on your shoulder or hip. Or above your ass.”

  “Yeah, you're not doing any ass antlers on me. That's just not gonna happen.”

  “Ass antlers?”

  “Tramp stamp, ho tag or whatever you wanna call it. I'm not getting one.”

  He started laughing and reeled her in for a kiss. “Okay, not above your ass. My point is, I know it's not that big of a thing for you, but it is for me. This is what I grew up with instead of a diamond ring.”

  “I don't want a diamond ring,” she mumbled and straddled his lap, holding his cheeks, and when she was nose to nose with him she closed her eyes. “So tell me.”

  “Tell you?”

  “What you needed to tell me.”

  “A gang wanted in on our pot trade and thought we grew our own, that it was just us doing the business. They had a stripper plant a bomb at the club. We found them and they're gone.”

  “You killed them?”

  “Not all of them, but some of them, and we killed the leader, the one who gave the order.”

  “Okay,” she stroked his nose. She still seemed okay with it, but she was smart. She'd probably had some idea of what they'd done. “And who else was it, if it wasn't just you, and if you're not growing your own?”

  “We mule pot and diamonds for a Mexican cartel. We get it on this side of the border and move it up north.”

  She froze, sat perfectly still until she scrambled to her feet and stared at him while she started to back up.

  “Diamonds?”

  “Yes?” He wasn't really sure what just happened.

  “As in conflict diamonds?”

  She looked absolutely horrified, and he stood up, still extremely fucking confused. It was as if she was looking at a... monster or complete psycho or... a thing.

  “Baby, what's wrong?”

  “What's wrong?” She yelled. “You kill children. People get kidnapped, Togba, he...” She seemed to have slipped and bit off around the rest of that sentence. “They're forced to... and the money is used by guerrillas who...”

  She was backing up while talking. He hadn't missed it, though. This wasn't about a nameless mass of people.

  “Baby, who's Togba?”

  “I need you to leave.”

  “What?” Was she fucking serious? “Honey, is this about the diamonds? Because it's the same as the pot and cartels, and that didn't seem to set you off. The diamonds are personal to you.” It had to be, there was no other explanation for her horror. She kept backing up, shaking her head, eyes wide, and the first tear ran down her cheek. “Edie...” He started.

  “I need you to leave. I need to... think about this, I need to be alone.” And then she said that sentence he'd started to hate viciously. “I need some time.”

  He couldn't fucking believe it. It didn't compute in his brain. She was okay with muling pot, working with cartels and killing people, but this was her limit? He was also fed up with her never actually fighting. She just screamed and then left, or in this case threw him out.

  “I'm not leaving.”

  “Get out!”

  “No,” he said and crossed his arms over his chest. “I'm not.”

  “You said that this was my apartment, and I want you to get. The. Fuck. Out! Now!”

  He stomped up to her, and when she flinched as if he might hit her or something, like he all of a sudden was that fucking horrible, he was furious. He glared at her.

  “Fine! But you stay on this fucking continent, and we are not done!”

  She didn't answer and he left, slammed the door behind him and sat up on his bike.

  -o0o-

  Brick had moved into the clubhouse, but that was as far as he'd gotten. Bucket hadn't come out of the office, and he was starting to suspect that his wife was holding him hostage until the day was over or the AC was working properly again.

  The door slammed open, and Dawg walked inside looking furious, grabbed a bottle of whiskey and continued towards the dorms.

  “Think I'll hold off on calling Sami,” Bear mumbled.

  “Yup,” Bull said, but Brick got up and followed in Dawg's tracks and knocked on his door.

  “Not a good time!” Dawg yelled, and Bear didn't give a fuck. He went inside anyway. “What?”

  “Since I get shit from my wife when you get shit from your woman, I wanna know what I'm gonna get shit for.”

  It wasn't the entire truth. Dawg had looked a bit worse than usual, and he wanted to make sure it wasn't as bad as it seemed.

  “Turns out my woman, or possibly ex-woman, has a huge problem with blood diamonds. Or conflict diamonds, as she called them just before she threw me out.”

  That rang a bell in the back of Brick's head. “What did she call them?”

  “Conflict diamonds,” Dawg muttered as he threw himself down in his armchair.

  “Mel said that Edie'd started treating shot wounds, during the lockdown. She'd been worried that she'd freak out, but she'd just started helping with them. When she asked where she'd learned, Edie just said she'd been in conflict areas.”

  “Yeah, it's something personal to her. I don't know, she threw me out. As usual we don't actually argue, she tells me what an ass I am and then she runs.”

  “She threw you out, she didn't run.”

  “She's running,” Dawg said into the bottle before taking long swallow from it. “Just gotta cross my fingers and hope that she doesn't go to Africa to start saving victims of conflict diamonds to make up for fucking a guy who's smuggling them.”

  Brick leaned against the dresser and tried to contain a laugh. “That is an actual risk, isn't it?”

  “You know, the fact that I've actually killed people, like shoot-in-the-head kill, or that I also mule pot, that didn't get to her at all.”

  “Shoes,” Brick said with a nod while he was thinking about something completely different.

  “What?!”

  “Shoes,” he shrugged. “Women get weird obsessions. They focus on one thing, and that's extremely fucking important to them. Mel has a thing about shoes. I don't fight it because they're sexy shoes.”

  “Obsessing about shoes isn't like throwing a guy out for smuggling diamonds. Don't think her shoe obsession is gonna cause her to throw you out at all.”

  “No, not really,” Brick agreed. “My point with Mel is that she obsesses about other, more sane, things, but others just fly by her. I don't get it. She says it's like men only seeing tits when they see a naked woman, while women look at the entire body. I think she might be right.” Dawg nodded while once again drinking out of the bottle. “Mind if I go and talk to her?”

  “Knock yourself out,” Dawg said with a big, phony smile and held up the bottle. “I'm gonna empty this and then I'm gonna pass out.”

  “Have fun!” He stood up and went for the door, then turned around. “She's not your ex-woman, by the way. So don't do anything stupid.”

  “Wasn't planning to.”

  Brick went to Mel's office. She glared when he opened the door, and he saw a very stressed out Bucket, still fiddling around with the AC. It didn't look as if he knew what he
was doing, so Brick decided to give the guy a break.

  “Bucket, get out. I'll buy a new one tomorrow.”

  “Sure thing, prez,” Bucket said and was visibly relieved as he ran towards the door.

  “I'm gonna go and talk to Edie,” he said as the door closed. “She's... they're fighting, I think it's bad.”

  “How bad?”

  “Dawg is in his room emptying a bottle of whiskey with the plan to pass out on his bed while hoping that she's not on her way to Africa.”

  “What did he do?”

  “He told her what we're doing. She had a hard time processing parts of it. I'm gonna go and have a talk to her. See if I can do a better job at it. Since she doesn't hold that pussy power over me, I might be able to do a better job than he did.”

  Mel smiled at him. “You're a good man.”

  “Not really. I like my Old Lady in a good mood. Keeping her sister in a good mood helps. I like my men on top of their game and she's currently totally mindfucking one of them.”

  Mel stood up, came over and threw her arms around his neck, beaming up at him, and every fucking time she did that his heart skipped a beat.

  “You love her. I know you do.”

  “Actually, I do. Love you more, though.”

  “You better,” Mel mumbled.

  He grabbed her ass and gave her a wet kiss. “You okay with picking up Eliza?”

  “I am, and if you really buy me a new AC tomorrow, I'll get down on my knees in front of it, and if your glorious cock is anywhere near, I'll blow it.”

  “My cock will be here,” he said and swatted her behind. “And I'll pay back in kind.”

  “Good,” Mel took a step back. “Tell Edie that... if she needs to talk to me for the female perspective, or something, I'm here.”

  “She knows that, baby.”

  Since that talk, when Edie told Mel she needed to forgive herself, they'd slowly started to connect as sisters. So he had no doubt Edie knew Mel would be there for her. At the moment he wasn't sure she had her head screwed on right, and when women didn't, they ran blind.

  -o0o-

  I wasn't sure how to handle this, I wasn't sure I was even trying. It felt like I was only panicking without even trying to... understand anything or dealing with it. Dealing with them muling conflict diamonds because all I could think about was Togba's beaten, skinny and amputated body as I watched him die. I had never used regular jewelry since. I just couldn't. Most precious stones and just... all of it. I couldn't make the distinction between the good and the bad, so I stayed away from all of it. The jewelry I had was polished wood, some made out of bone and with very few exceptions I had watched them being made.

  The bile rose in my throat when I realized that the jewelry I'd borrowed from Lanie probably was real diamonds, conflict diamonds, and I hadn't even thought about it.

  Logically, I understood his reasoning. Dawg's. That pot wasn't all that much better, drugs in general where as horrible as conflict diamonds, but it wasn't the same to me.

  My eyes fell on the bookshelves, the table, the sofa. All of it paid for by him. With money he'd made by muling those fucking diamonds.

  I needed to get out. Get away to be able to make some sense of where my head was taking me at the moment. I packed my backpack, and in record time I was out the door and on my way to the truck. Somewhere in the back of my head I knew this wasn't the solution, but I ignored that feeling.

  When I unlocked the truck, I heard the gruff male voice behind me.

  “Hey there, girl.” I turned around and saw Brick leaning on his bike. “Running?”

  “I...” I stared at him and finally settled on just telling him the truth. “Yes.”

  “Mind if we have a word before you take off?”

  I did mind. Quite a lot, but the past year had taught me that if he wanted a word, he got his word, so I nodded.

  “Can we go inside?”

  “No...” I kept staring at him and then finally admitted it. “I put the key in the mail box.” He looked at me with a smile and a raised eyebrow. I realized that I had most of my things in there and to get those back I would have to get Dawg's key. I sighed. “Yeah, I didn't think that through, did I?”

  “Not really,” he laughed. “I know a place. Get in the truck and I'll take you there.”

  He drove my truck out into the desert. It wasn't until he parked the car that it hit me that I would have to drive back into Greenville to drop him off before I went anyway, and I didn't have to ask him if that was planned. Of course it was planned. We went outside and sat down on the ground. But he didn't say anything, just lit a joint and handed me another one. Finally I spoke up first, and that had probably been his plan all along. There wasn't much he didn't plan. I knew why he was here, why he'd come for me. He'd talked to Dawg, so he knew that I knew.

  “How do you defend it?” I asked.

  “The same way I defend smuggling pot, aiding Mexican cartels, using gasoline, drinking Coke and buying shoes and clothes made in China by underpaid children. I don't even try, because I can't. It's a fucked up world. I'm just trying to live in it, making sure that the people closest to me are having a good life.”

  It sounded so simple when he put it like that, and it made me angry. Because it wasn't that simple. I couldn't agree with it, you couldn't reason like that. Just put yourself apart from the rest of the world and take care of your own bubble.

  “Really fucking convenient, just saying 'fuck it all as long as me and my family are having a good life'.”

  “Maybe,” he chuckled. “It's how I keep myself sane. The way I see it, all that shit is gonna happen either way, and I know that it's not enough for you to hear that or how you see it, but that's how I see it, and that's what you asked for. But if you take off, leave all this behind again, we're still gonna be in this business tomorrow. You'll just not be here The other option is to stick around, be with him, and try to change the world in other ways.”

  “I can't change the world, but I'd like to be able to live with myself and my part in it. And... standing by him and just... living off of that blood money. I don't know.” I looked at the joint in my hand. “I know it's hypocritical. That I care about diamonds and don't give a shit about the pot.”

  Another of those wonderful laughs rose in his chest, and he shook his head, put an arm around my shoulders and kissed the top of my head.

  “It's not hypocritical, it human. We don't have an objective way to view the world. It's very subjective and based on our experiences and knowledge. It's obviously something that means a lot to you, and that's why it matters. What we see and experience shape our opinions and determinations. If we try to care about everything we'll go insane.”

  I leaned my head against him and closed my eyes. It was like being back with Vasco, and he'd made me feel better. About a lot of things. It never ceased to amaze me how much these people just accepted other people’s failings. Maybe it was because they had so many flaws themselves. And then I just opened my mouth and I told him about it. About Togba.

  “I spent a few months in a small village in west Ghana. They were really nice people, they weren't poor, but definitely not rich. I tried to be of as much use as possible, to not exploit their kindness, and they put me on the duty the kids had, collecting bugs for food.”

  “Bugs for food?”

  “Yes,” I nodded. “Insects are nutritious, lots of protein. It's good food and good for the environment. The kids who were gonna show me thought it was hilarious since I was a grown up. It wasn't usually a job for grown ups. I... I wasn't crazy about bugs and I thought it was kind of disgusting, but I did it. They taught me.”

  The first insect I ever managed to catch was a palm weevil. When I stood with it in my hand, desperately trying to not throw up, they all laughed and cheered. Their big black eyes gleamed, and they looked so proud. The bug, that looked like a big red beetle, didn't taste all that bad when fried, but I never ate them raw the way some of the kids happily did. Stink bugs w
ere another ugly thing we collected. And they had earned their name. They were roasted, sometimes soaked in water. The soaked water was saved by the women and used to keep termites away from the house. That was one thing that always fascinated me with the people I met in villages just like that one: nothing was ever wasted.

  I felt Brick squeezing me, and I realized that I'd been quiet for quite some time. Just remembering those kids’ faces. I'd spent so much time with them. And their parents, the proud, kind people who refused my money. They said they were good, they had food, shelter and good family. If I wanted to stay, I could stay. If I wanted to help, I could work, but that was it. I cleared my throat to continue.

  “I went back about two years later and...” I wasn't sure how to continue. “Some of them were gone. Quite a few of them. They had been kidnapped. It didn't take me long to find out that they had been brought to the Ivory Coast to work as slaves, mining diamonds. I found a camp set up by UN and there I found... one of the children.”

  It was Togba. Instead of the laughing kid with gleaming eyes, he was an empty shell. His eyes hollow, when he saw me he grabbed my hand, with the only hand he still had left. They'd cut off the other one. I had no idea why, but the staff working in the camp said it was something they saw often.

  “What did he tell you?”

  “Nothing. He couldn't speak, but when I asked him if anyone of the others were still... he shook his head.” I dried my cheeks. “He didn't make it either.”

  “You sat with him until he died.” He didn't ask. He was just confirming what he already knew, and I felt fresh tears falling down my cheeks.

  “Yes.”

  “Honey...” he started and hugged me. “I don't know what to say. I'm so sorry.”

  “I went to South America after that, and a few months later, that's when I came here. I was done, it really felt like that was it. It didn't matter what I did, things could always happen that turned everything to shit again.” I leaned out of his arms, dried my cheeks and sat up. “I don't know how to be a part of this and live with those memories at the same time.”