Heart of a Savage

by Lashanta Charles

  “You’re not me, so don’t sit in my house telling me how to do shit I’m already doing.”

  Rory raises his hands in surrender and backs away until he’s well out of Nico’s reach. Then he turns and heads for the door. I’m starting to think Nico might not be a people person. With the exception of me and a select few, most people actually realize that up front.

  BAILEY HASN’T SAID a word since we woke up this morning. She’s given me small smiles, shakes and nods of her head, but no actual words. I don’t begrudge her the silence. Any second now we’ll be face to face with the one judge who never sides against biological mothers if it appears they’ve made an effort to improve their lives for the sake of their child. For all intents and purposes, Malia has done that. There is truly no way to prove otherwise. From my seat directly behind Bailey’s table, I watch as her leg bounces nonstop. One hand is raised in front of her face where I can’t see and the other is drumming a steady beat against the table. I wish I could touch her. Comfort her. Everything in me is stretching towards her, wanting to pull her into my arms and hold her there. Keep here there. Away from everything and everyone that could harm her.

  The bailiff announces the judge’s entrance and after everyone is seated again, Malia’s lawyer jumps right in and begins speaking. He paints a picture of a mother who struggled financially after being abandoned by the father of her child. She was barely able to provide enough food, shelter, and clothing for herself, let alone prepare for the arrival of a child. When she finally gave birth, she knew she couldn’t be the mother she needed to be. According to Malia, that was where Connor came in. He promised to take care of her son until she could get back on her feet. He told her that she could come for him at any time and he would hand him over, no questions asked. It’s almost as though they’re speaking of a puppy and not an actual child. They go on and on painting Malia in the best light possible, ending with Bailey essentially kidnapping Kaelen and her newly acquired criminal record.

  Bailey’s lawyer—only one of them this time—obviously explains the story differently. He tries to explain the fact that Bailey agreed to raise Kaelen, but as her own. She never agreed to hand him over at any point in time. He tells how Bailey thought Connor fathered the child and as his significant other she became a mother without question. The lawyer goes on to tell the judge how Bailey came home from work one evening and was basically ambushed by Malia’s presence in her home.

  I hadn’t heard this story in its entirety. As the lawyer speaks, I search the courtroom for Connor. When I find him near the back, I see that his eyes are locked on Bailey. I turn my focus back to the front and wait for the lawyers to finish speaking. No one is required to testify. This is strictly a decision-making hearing and after a while the judge focuses on Bailey instead of her lawyer.

  “Ms. Ross, from what I’ve read and what I’ve heard you have no maternal claim on this child. The plaintiff has submitted documentation that proves she is more than capable of providing for him now. She’s set up savings and checking accounts for him, a college fund. She’s researched and scheduled interviews for two of the top private institutes for him to begin Pre-K schooling. She has a home close to the same area you lived in so that he remains in relatively familiar surroundings. She has gone above and beyond in preparation for her son being with her. She’s the top candidate for his care and concern. You understand this, correct?”

  “Incorrect, your honor.”

  Bailey’s lawyer drops his chin to his chest and covers his face with one hand.

  “Excuse me?” the judge asks. He slides his glasses further down on his nose and looks at Bailey over the frame. Her lawyer places a hand on Bailey’s arm and she nods her head.

  “With all due respect, your honor, I disagree. Kaelen was two weeks old when I welcomed him into my home. I fed him. I clothed him. I gave him shelter. When he was colicky and up all night crying, I was there to soothe him. When he suffered from colds or fevers, I nursed him back to health. When he took his first step, it was toward me. When he said his first word, ‘ma-ma,’ it was to me. When he fell and got his first scraped knee, it was me who cleaned it and kissed it better. Biology may have nothing to do with it, but maternally, I’m the only one who can make those claims.”

  The judge stares at her thoughtfully as Malia’s lawyer tosses out an objection against Bailey’s words. The judge nods his head before speaking.

  “Overruled. The defendant is allowed to argue her case and be that as it may, my words still stand. The plaintiff is also able to provide food, clothing, and shelter. Her home is more than adequate. She is more than adequate to pick up where you’ve left off and raise her own child.”

  “Four walls and a roof do not make a home, your honor. And I can guarantee you that is all she can provide. She is not capable of providing the love and care that he needs. She’s a surrogate at best. She isn’t capable of being a real mother. I’m his mother. He is my son.”

  “Careful, Ms. Ross. I’ll not tolerate insults in my courtroom.”

  “My words aren’t meant to insult, your honor, only to point out facts. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with being a surrogate.”

  “That’s enough, Ms. Ross.”

  “No. It’s not enough. What will it take to make you see reason? She’s not even caring for him as she should be.”

  “”I suppose you have proof of that?”

  “We submitted the proof to you. We gave the court all of the pictures she’s sent me of him. She’s neglectful and abusive towards him.”

  “Objection, your honor, improper characterization. Is the court really going to allow this woman to continue to slander my client?” Malia’s lawyer asks as he stands.

  “Sustained. Those pictures prove nothing, Ms. Ross. Do you have any real evidence?”

  Bailey turns in her chair and scans the crowd until she finds Connor. Her eyes are pleading; begging him to speak up, to do something. Anything. I look back at him and his gaze meets mine for a split second before going back to Bailey. He stares stone-faced and unmoving. She covers her mouth with her hand and blinks back the tears threatening to fall, then turns to face the judge again.

  “Your, honor, I don’t understand what more proof you could possibly need? He is mine. My baby. She doesn’t even want him. She’s being spiteful just to try and hurt me.”

  “Then that’s very unfortunate for you, Ms. Ross. I’ve heard more than enough.”

  “And yet you refuse to actually listen.”

  From anyone else her words might have been considered disrespectful or challenging. The sincerity in her voice shows that she’s just a mother fighting for her child. The judge doesn’t see it that way though. He snatches his glasses from his face and points his gavel in Bailey’s direction.

  “I said that’s enough! Another word from you and I’ll hold you in contempt,” he threatens.

  My hackles raise. It’s almost as though he has something against Bailey. She shakes her head at him, but doesn’t bite her tongue.

  “I’m losing the one person that means more than anything to me. You really think your contempt charge holds sway to that?”

  The judge’s face turns red with anger and he opens his mouth to speak. Bailey’s lawyer quickly intercedes.

  “Your honor, what my client is trying to convey is that she’s very distraught at the thought of losing her child. I assure you, she means no disrespect to you or the court. This is a very difficult situation for her to face. Kaelen is the only family she has left.”

  Not true. She has me. She has Petra. She has Cade. East. Law. Van. Jax. She has more family than she’ll ever know what to do with.

  “I’ll accept that counselor, but I’ll also stress that the child is not hers. His mother sits there, not ten feet away from her.”

  He glares at Bailey, waiting for her to disagree with him and she doesn’t disappoint.

  “He is mine,” she whispers.

  “Counselor, control your client or I’ll do it for you
!”

  Her lawyer nods his head and places his hand over Bailey’s. Her shoulders slump and she lowers her head. I can only imagine the look on her face and it kills me that there’s nothing I can do to fix this for her. A bribe has crossed my mind, but from the looks of this judge either someone beat me to it or he’s too uptight to consider it.

  “I’ve made my decision,” he declares. “The child’s birth mother will retain custody permanently.”

  Protests erupt around me. Petra is by far the loudest. The judge bangs his gavel and calls for order in the court. When that yields no results, he threatens to hold everyone in contempt and place them in jail. That quiets them down, but the murmurs don’t cease completely.

  “In an effort to allow the child to fully adjust to his new surroundings and effectively settle into his new home, Ms. Ross will not be allowed visitation.”

  Bailey’s entire body is wracked with uncontrollable, agonizing sobs as she repeatedly moans the words ‘no,’ ‘please,’ and ‘don’t.’ I fist the railing that separates us, narrowly avoiding vaulting myself over it to get to her.

  “Court adjourned,” the judge declares as he bangs his gavel.

  Before the bailiff can call for everyone to rise, I’m moving towards Bailey. Her lawyer informs the judge that they’ll be filing an appeal, but he only waves his hand dismissively before disappearing through a side door. I pull Bailey into my arms, holding her up when it’s obvious she doesn’t have the strength to stand on her own. Within seconds her sobs turn into hyperventilating. Her nails bite into my arms as she turns panicked eyes to me. “Get help,” I yell as I sit her back in her chair and take her face into my hands. “You’re fine. You’re perfectly fine. You just need to breathe, little mouse.” Her nails dig deeper as she frantically shakes her head. I tighten my grip to still her and move my face closer to hers. “Yes. You can do this. You do this all day, every day. You’ve been breathing your entire life, there’s nothing stopping you from doing it now. Just like me.” I take a few deep breaths, willing her to do the same. “Just like me, little mouse. Breathe for me.” A few more breaths and the panic begins to leave her eyes, her breathing slowly returning to normal. “That’s it, just like that.”

  “They took him,” she breathes.

  I nod my head, not knowing what to say.

  “I can’t even see him, Nico. Why would he do that? What did I do to make him go that far?”

  I know this isn’t her fault, just like I know she won’t be receptive to me saying that, right now.

  “Can we talk, Lee?” Connor stands in front of the table, hands stuffed into his pockets as he speaks. He glances at me, but quickly looks away.

  “Talk?”

  She looks at him as though he asked her to commit a homicide instead of exchanging words.

  “You ruined my life, Connor. I gave you everything you could possibly ever need and this is what you did,” she says with a wave of her hand indicating the courtroom.

  “I tried ta reason with ya, Lee! Ya refused ta give me what I wanted most! Tis been years and ya wouldna relent!”

  Until this point I felt no need to rise from my kneeling position in front of Bailey. Some men find being in a lowered position demeaning or beneath them when another man is standing over them. I was perfectly fine with my position, but then he had to go and yell. Before Bailey can form a response I’m up and grabbing him by that pansy ass ponytail he’s wearing. I push his head down, smashing his head into the table. Using his ponytail again, I yank him back up intending to make him apologize, but then I remember the initial reason for me ever meeting Bailey. I slam his nose into the table and quickly follow it with his head again. A sharp whistle catches my attention and I glance up to see the bailiff.

  “I think he gets it now, but an autograph might get me to ignore the violence I’m witnessing,” he says.

  Fucking vultures. I guess it’s better than guaranteed jail. This is a courtroom. So I nod my head before looking back to Connor. I release his ponytail from my grip and he sinks to the floor.

  “We good?” Jax asks as I squat next to Connor’s limp form.

  “You don’t get to “talk” to her anymore. You don’t get the privilege of being associated with her in any way anymore. That includes all the money you owe to your counterparts. They’ve accepted that you have no ties to her. They know she won’t cover your debt for you or your father. They’re coming for you, not her.” I think I see a few tears as I rise and grab Bailey’s hand. Pussy.

  I can see the questions in Bailey’s eyes as we leave. I know they’re on the tip of her tongue. I also know she won’t ask. For that I’m grateful. I have no wishes to tell her that all it took to take care of it was a direct call to the head of The Cartel. I have no desire to tell her that we’re on a first name basis and that before my cousin, Kalil, took over for my dad the two of us handled 90% of The Cartel’s drug shipments in and out of the country. I won’t tell her that when Kalil wanted out the first person they expected to take over was me. I won’t tell her that a part of me still hungers for it and that that part of me is what makes me such a good fighter. I won’t use words tonight at all. Instead I’ll use our bodies. I’ll take her home and give her so much pleasure, she won’t remember the level of pain she’s in right now.

  “YOU SURE YOU don’t want to come with me?” Nico asks for the third time this morning.

  “Jesus, Nico. When did you become such an irritating little bastard?” I ask. He barks out a laugh and I know he’ll believe I’m fine enough to be left alone. “Why don’t you just take all of my shoestrings and belts? Lock me in a padded cell?” It’s been three weeks since I lost Kaelen. Three weeks since I’ve seen a picture of him. Malia has sent me no pictures to antagonize me nor has she called to harass me about her having him. It hurts something awful, but it’s also made it easier to deal with it all. The first two weeks were the worst and even now, I feel as though it will never get any better.

  “If I didn’t worry you’d be calling me an ‘asshole,’” Nico counters.

  This is true, but I need him gone. He’s gotten worse since they took Kaelen. Almost as if he thinks I’ll leave now. Normally I’d just go with him and he wouldn’t have to worry, but I need today to myself. As anxious as I am, I know he’ll never leave if I don’t force myself to stay calm. “You say that as though it really matters.”

  “I’ll be back in a few hours. I’m not staying that long,” he says as he slips a hoodie over his head. Always in a hoodie. The man makes athletic wear look ruggedly classy.

  “Okay. I’ll call if I need you. I promise.” I kiss him and push him toward the door, knowing that he’s letting me do it. If he didn’t want to be moved, he wouldn’t be. I pace the living room for at least twenty minutes just to make sure he’s gone. When I’m satisfied that he’s not coming back, I rush to the bedroom closet and grab the box that I stashed there last night. When I had him stop at the corner store for some more flour, I happened to pass the feminine products aisle. With a jolt I realized that I hadn’t had to buy any since I’ve been living with Nico. I’ve never been regular, but there’s always at least a little spotting every month. Google said that stressing or the increase in my physical activities could be the cause of it all, but it also strongly suggested that I take a pregnancy test.

  Making my way into the bathroom I rip the box open and take the test. I’m thoroughly fascinated with watching the line of wetness slowly spread across the window until it reveals two pink lines. I stare at it in confusion trying to decide if I really want to read the directions or if I want to use common sense. I check the box and see a thick wad of paper. Common sense it is. One is a negative number, so one line would mean negative results. Two is a positive number, so two means positive results. Positive means yes. Yes, I’m pregnant. Pregnant. Holy shit, I’m pregnant. My free hand goes to the implant in my arm and I rub as hard as I can just to make sure it’s really there. The nearly two-inch rod is definitely there. So how in the fuck am
I pregnant? How is this even possible? Before I can properly freak out—because shit, this deserves a good freak out, right—the doorbell chimes three times in a row. Impatient little pricks. I grab my phone to call Nico and ask if he’s expecting anyone, but realize I can’t talk to him without risking him realizing something else is wrong. Forcing myself to breathe deeply, I make my way to the door and open it.

  “Did he tell you we had a daughter?”

  I blink at Janae, not fully comprehending her words. Or why she’s here. Again. After I told her never to show her face.

  “I bet he didn’t tell you that. I know all of his secrets. How much has he told you?

  Her words finally penetrate the fog of my brain and I zone in on that one word. Daughter? For one insane moment I think she’s talking about my baby. Then I remember that I literally just found out. I’m the only one who knows. For the first time in weeks, I feel a migraine brewing. I grip the back of my neck and force myself to listen to her words, considering she hasn’t stopped speaking this entire time.

  “He refused to speak to him because he wanted to be the one in charge. He wanted to be the one they called when they needed their drugs trafficked into the country. His dad wanted him to focus on fighting instead. He knew Nico would be good at it. He didn’t want to burden him with that, but Nico wanted it more than anything. He’s not the saint you think he is. Deep inside he’s evil. He’s all darkness. And when it’s too late for you to leave him, you’ll realize it.”

  She pauses and must see the confusion on my face.

  “Yes, your Savage Prince really is a savage at heart. It’s not just a name. I found that out the hard way. Did he tell you why I left? Did he tell you it was his fault? That he’s an alcoholic?”

  That can’t be true. I’ve never seen Nico drink anything with alcohol. He’s always the designated driver. That doesn’t stop my curiosity though. I’ve never heard the whole story of why she left. Every now and then there’s a reference to it, but never any details. So even though I know this will be bad, especially considering the source, I shake my head. It’s like seeing two trains headed full speed toward each other. I know the collision will be horrendous, but I can’t make myself look away. I have to see it through. Her eyes glaze over and she stares right through me. I can’t tell if it’s because she’s making this up or if it’s because she’s reliving the memory. Either way her words turn my body to ice.