Gwen and I stand outside in the lot as the three men pull down the driveway and leave the compound, two prospects closing the gates behind them. Gwen and I join hands and hold them tight as we just stand there for a moment, watching the sunrise casting orange light and warmth over us. I’m reminded of Shine, of her warmth, a warmth that’s cruelly been extinguished, and my heart sinks.
“How do we go on?” Gwen asks. “I mean, Owen can’t take of Maven. He’s barely gonna be able to take care of himself,” she says.
“That’s why we’re here. Shine always knew this would happen, that she’d leave us early. Now it’s our time to show her that her life wasn’t in vain. Maven will remember her and live on for her. It’ll be fine,” I tell Gwen, but in my heart, I don’t believe my words. We stand there for a few more minutes in the silence and the peace, because I know when we go inside it will be mayhem again and I think she does too.
“Missy?” someone calls out softly, “Dornan’s awake.”
I give Gwen’s hand a little squeeze before I let it go and walk into the clubhouse. Dornan’s cuddled up against Boo-Boo’s chest, sucking his thumb and holding his blanket under the other arm. Dornan lifts his head as he sees me and I’m thankful coveralls were brought to Gwen and me to wear as we cleaned Shine and my son doesn’t have to see me covered in blood. Boo hands over my son and I take him in my arms, his little body clinging to mine and I kiss his shoulder as I hug him. We begin walking toward the apartments, making it around the first corner before the tears begin to fall. I sob knowing Shine and Maven won’t ever have this again, for how thankful I am that I still do, but also for how sad I am too.
The next few days are a blur. Shine was taken out to the state park and everyone went to mourn and celebrate. I didn’t go, I couldn’t. I didn’t want to see my friend as ashes. She had been too colorful and vibrant to end as some gray soot. Seeing her dead was one thing, but that I couldn’t do. I knew everyone would get wasted and pretend they knew her and the ones who truly loved her would maybe reminisce and tell a story or two. I wasn’t knocking them for being strong enough for that.
Rather, I stayed at the clubhouse with the kids, Kendall helping me as we played games and tried to keep them entertained. Every time I saw Maven smiling, God, Maven’s little smile reminded me so much of her mom that it practically shredded my heart into tatters. That night as I waited for everyone to come back and the kids were sleeping, Maven woke up crying, mumbling “Mama” and I scooped her into my arms. I sat us on the floor in the moonlight, rocking her and softly singing Fleetwood Mac’s “Landslide.” Shine’s favorite band popped into my head, she always requested I sing them at the tavern with the band, and the song was so fitting for the moment. It was my tribute to her as I looked down at her baby and cried. It’s also then I remove my shell necklace, holding it in my palm before tossing it in the garbage. That phase of my life was over now and the symbol the necklace held, no longer represented who I would be anymore, the part of my life with Shine was gone.
Sven came back earlier than everyone else and we shared a silent exchange, a brief connection with our eyes that told me it was done.
The days that followed Shine’s death were mainly the men leaving at first light, on the hunt for Jasper, while the rest of us remained on lockdown at the clubhouse. The businesses owned and operated by the club were temporarily closed, and life seemed to pause. I didn’t care about much other than making sure everyone was safe.
One week later, I was woken up from a restless sleep. I thought I heard loud voices, shouting in the distance, inside the clubhouse and not outside. Rising slowly, I make sure not to jostle the kids. I’m only in one of Sven’s t-shirts, but I don’t care what I look like. Something’s telling me to go and see. Padding in my bare feet down the apartment hallway, the voices becoming louder once I come to the main area of the clubhouse, I look for Sven. The men are clustered around a doorway that leads to an attached garage of sorts, basically a large enclosed area they use to work on bikes.
“Missy,” Boo-Boo says, stepping in front of me.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“They found Jasper.”
“Who did?” I rush out, “Where was he?”
“Some motel,” he shrugs. “Here now.”
My body jolts, like an instant shot of adrenaline or something. It’s more like shock. “He’s here?” and with my question, I finally recognize what the men are saying.
“Kill him!”
“Fucking gut him like a pig!”
“Strangle him with my bare hands!”
“Where’s Owen, does he know?” I ask.
“He’s in there now, with Sven and Chain, I mean, Joseph,” Boo tells me.
Joseph, had over the years gotten the nickname Chain, something to do with a fight that occurred on a run. My mind flashes to visions of the three brothers confronting the man they grew up with, a man they considered one of them not so long ago, who now couldn’t be more hated. By everyone. Then, Owen’s voice is in my ears.
“I can’t,” he says defeatedly, and Boo moves aside for me to see Owen pushing his way through the crowd, blood covering his hands.
He walks past me and Boo leaves me to go to him. The crowd’s been broken up by Owen leaving and I sneak through the men and inside through the heavy door. Slowly, I close it, my back to the sounds of flesh being hit, grunts and groans. I close the door quietly so I can observe and maybe they won’t notice me watching. Looking over my shoulder, I see Jasper, bloody and looking pummeled. Sven and Joseph are both shirtless, covered in blood and sweat and circling Jasper like sharks in the water. Jasper’s held up on some sort of metal rigging I assume is for bike work, looking like Jesus on the cross, arms secured up, legs tied together. The room is dark, aside from two huge lights on either side of Jasper, shining on him and the carnage. I haven’t seen him in years and he looks different. Aside from the bloody mess, his hair and beard are longer, he looks more skinny than lean and clearly still a drug user by his appearance.
“Lookey, lookey,” he says, raising his head. It takes me a long moment, and both Sven and Joseph looking at me, to realize his words are directed toward me.
“Missy,” Sven says.
“Look at you…” Jasper coughs out before spitting a mouthful of blood on the concrete floor before him. “I should’ve taken you before Shine, gotten that piece of ass finally-”
His words stop with a punch from Sven to his mouth. He spits again, this time ejecting a tooth.
“Oh, come on, you knew everyone wanted to fuck her. I didn’t, fuck her I mean, I should’ve…but Sven, you were more of a brother to me then Owen ever was.”
I watch as the two men wordlessly share a look, Sven’s chest heaving, his hands balled into tight fists. For years, I’ve wondered if I’d ever had sex with Jasper, a memory lost in the abyss. To hear we never did, gives me some small amount of relief. But with that, memories of the past flood my mind. How he beat Shine, how he threatened me, how he deliberately made me a drug addict, how that vindictive action became the main cause of Kendall hating me, how Shine suffered, how Maven will never know her mom. Rage. Pure, unadulterated rage fills my heart. I lost a year of my life to this man, Shine lost her actual life to this man, and Maven’s life has been forever altered because of this man. I know none of that can change now, but I want to own this feeling, I want to own it and show him that he can’t take anything more from us ever again.
“How’s Sweetie? I miss her…she’s gotta be, what, seventeen? I saw her, walking home from school a few weeks ago…looks just like you, Missy. Gonna be a hot one she is.”
I rush toward him, grabbing the handle of the knife sticking out from Sven’s belt and lunging at Jasper.
“Stop! He’s just trying to fuck with you!” Sven says, one arm hooking around my mid-section, the other gripping my wrist raised in the air.
Jasper and I lock eyes. I’m only inches away, Sven’s hold tight on me as Joseph stands beside Jasper with his hand gripped in h
is hair and yanking his head.
“Shine fought like hell, stupid bitch,” he sneers. “Her little bitch baby cried, just like her mom. She fuckin’ pleaded with me the whole way to the desert. When I beat her, when I cut her, when I fucked her, she cried for her bastard baby and fuckin’ Owen. After all these years, she still took a hit like a dumb bitch…fucking weak, like you. It was so easy to keep you fucked up, watching you crave it, getting you to do anything for another hit. I controlled you, fucked with you. I loved. Every. Minute. Of. It. I told you, Sven, you needed to control your bitch. Since you didn’t know how, I decided to do it for you.”
Sven’s hands loosen, and I lower my arm.
“I’m not controlling her now,” Sven says over my shoulder with a hardness to his voice that has the hairs on the back of my neck standing.
With my eyes still on Jasper, I raise the knife and in one swift move, slowly drag the blade across his throat.
“I hope you rot in hell,” I grit out through my clenched jaw.
The blood pours out from the wound, his eyes widen as he chokes and spits blood on Sven and me. Sven’s hand covers mine once more as I still grip the knife, pulling it back and lodging it in Jasper’s stomach, our hands both holding the handle. Jasper groans and his head falls forward, he’s suffering and slowly dying, and it’s less than what he deserves.
Leaving the blade in Jasper’s torso, Sven steps us back and the hands once holding the knife now link together as he continues to give us distance from Jasper. My feet shuffle as Sven leads us out of the room, pulling me by the hand past the men still standing there, all conversations stopping as they see us. Sven moves quickly past them, my eyes focused on the blood on our linked hands. We enter an apartment, not Sven’s because this one’s empty of the children. I stand there as he turns the water on for the shower, stripping me of his shirt and tossing it to the ground. Red. The once white fabric is now red. His jeans hit the floor and a tug of my arm has me in the shower and under the warm water. Red streams down our bodies, pooling at our feet as it flows like a river before disappearing down the drain. Strong hands bring my head up, and my dazed eyes go to Sven’s mouth before they close. He covers my skin and hair with soap, scrubbing my face and neck, my hands, and torso hard to remove the blood that soaked through the shirt. I stand there as he does the same to himself. It’s then I notice how raw and torn open the flesh of his knuckles are and I take them into my hands, running them under the warm water and cleaning them. Once we’re free of the carnage from moments ago, the water turns off and Sven hugs me, his touch bringing me back and centering me. I hold him just as tightly, and we say nothing, letting what happened sink in and allowing that part of our story to end.
PART THREE
32
Missy
We never spoke of those days ever again. The day Shine died, and the day we killed Jasper. For the first time in years, I found myself going to church over my sin, the sin of murder. Not for confession or anything, just looking for guidance. I’ve committed so many sins, but what happened with Jasper was the one that had me struggling. I didn’t feel bad. I didn’t regret it. I didn’t wish someone else had done it. I thought those feelings meant I was a terrible person, that I was changed in such a massive way that I’d never be me again. I’d go through waves, sometimes I didn’t think about it while other times it was overwhelming. But no matter what, I’d see Maven and know that what happened was right and justified. Was warranted for all the suffering she’s been through and will continue to go through for the rest of her life, without Shine.
Sven’s grown distant, and…cold. I think so much happened with Shine dying, seeing Owen fall apart before his eyes and what we did to Jasper. It conjured up a lot for him, so much to think about and fear and maybe it also again brought up feelings from Vietnam, ones he thought he’d already worked through.
He’s been at the club a lot and I know he’s been trying to help Owen get through all this by staying with him at night while Maven stays with me. I’d hoped once the dust settled and a little time passed that Owen would find the strength to come get Maven, but he wasn’t there yet. I can’t imagine the pain for him. But Maven doesn’t understand. We haven’t told her that Shine is dead, she’s too young to even understand what that means and we’ve been waiting to see what Owen wants to tell her. However, he’s finding solace and comfort in the bottle and needles full of drugs.
Maven goes between our house and her grandparents’, but it’s always the same- she wants to know where her parents are. Most of the time, she’s easily distracted and accepts the answer that they’ll be back. But at night, usually before bed or in the middle of the night, she cries for her mama. Her screams and tears break my heart and even though I comfort her back to sleep, I’m not Shine. I cursed the greater power who decided she would be taken, and begged that same being for guidance on what to do for the child left behind.
Everything feels so…off without Shine here. Again, I keep waiting for time to somehow heal the wound and ease the sting, but it hasn’t. I can’t help but feel like I’m neglecting Kendall and Dornan, since every time Maven’s with us, I’m hovering over her and making sure she’s okay. I know this, I’m aware of it, and I try to be fair and share myself with my children. But Kendall’s still unhappy and with me. I don’t blame her, I definitely won’t be winning any mother awards for how I raised her. I try to think of what I’ll say to her when she’s older, older and hopefully not so angry with me. That we grew up together, that I did what I thought was right for us, that I clearly didn’t know what I was doing, that I love her.
I wish for Sven to come to me, to come home and check on us, make sure we’re fairing fine. Because he’d see we’re not, we need him too. Yes, Owen is struggling and that’s his brother; and I guess we don’t compare. I’m not saying this from spite or jealousy. But I’m not his wife, Kendall and Maven aren’t his blood, Dornan’s the only one. I’m just messed up. Overwhelmed. It would be nice to lean on someone and have them support me. All this is daily, constant, no escape.
So, to say when I answered the door one Friday afternoon to see Gaye standing there with some guy shocked me, is an understatement. Maven, Dornan, and Joey are playing in the backyard and Kendall is in her room. I’d been cleaning, handkerchief tied in my hair, jeans, t-shirt and no bra, I stood there stunned as I looked at her. She was wearing a polyester pant suit, huge sunglasses covering her blue eyes, cigarette between in her long pink fingernails, just looking at me. The guy behind her is larger than her, dressed in a similar men’s suit, his brown hair combed over his otherwise balding head.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” she asks.
I close my mouth and step aside. They both walk in and Gaye flips her sunglasses off, folding them in her palm as she scans the interior of the house.
“Good lord, Faye, are you running an orphanage?” she scoffs as the three little ones come running through the foyer.
“What are you doing here?”
She looks over my shoulder, up at the top of the steps. “You ready?”
I follow her gaze to see Kendall coming down the stairs, suitcases in each hand.
“What are you doing?” I ask her, stopping her with my hand on her arm.
“She’s coming with me for the summer,” Gaye replies.
“Excuse me?” I question. “How the hell do you-”
“Ida helped me find her,” Kendall informs me.
I face her, completely shocked.
“You’ve been talking to her without me knowing?” I question.
“Well, I know you hate her so…I’m seventeen, you can’t tell me what to do.”
“Like hell I can’t, you’re not going anywhere.”
“Faye, stop acting like you want to be a mom now. I’ve told you since the moment you gave birth, you could never handle being a mother and clearly, I was right.”
“Get out of my house,” I growl, stepping closer and hoping it will prompt them to leave.
> “Come on, Kendall-”
“I said, get the fuck out of my house.”
The man with Gaye steps up like he’s going to defend her and I put my hands on my hips.
“Who the fuck is this anyway?” I ask, looking up at him.
“Nice language for a lady,” Gaye tisks and I narrow my eyes.
“I’m Preston Douglas III. I’m your mom’s husband.”
“Grandpa divorced Grandma ten years ago. You’d know that if you ever talked to her,” Kendall says behind me.
“Your dad’s dead, he had a heart attack six months ago,” Gaye informs me.
“You have no idea what happened between your grandparents and us, so don’t act like you do. And don’t be so blind to think that this woman would ever tell you the truth about anything,” I say facing Kendall. “A woman who hates someone she’d do anything to ‘win’ back. The thing she wants most is to just piss me off. That’s what kind of person she is. She doesn’t want you Kendall, you’re just a pawn in her game.”
When I’m done, I realize how harsh my words are. She doesn’t want you. And I see the instant they wound.
“Fuck you!” Kendall yells, dropping her bags on the floor with a thud as she stomps her way back up the steps.
“Nice, real nice, Faye. I can see what kind of heathen you’ve raised. I should’ve fought you for her-”
“That would’ve required some effort, Gaye, something we both know you have zero experience with.”
Her brows pinch, her nose rising in the air.
“I can see by all the toddlers running wild in here that you’re still a dirty slut. I remember you lusting after your father like some cat in heat. Did I ever tell you that, Preston? The relationship those two had was just…” she stops and shakes her head a little, making a disgusted facial expression. “Did you ever find out why your dad left you this house? He was in debt with his law firm, had to liquidate all his assets so no one could come after him. It wasn’t because he loved you, he used you to solve a problem. Just like he used you to get under my skin. Everything with that man was scheming and scamming, nothing was ever genuine. You can keep looking at me like that, but tell me, when was the last time you talked to him? Not since he left I bet. Exactly. He didn’t need you for anything anymore.”
Free Bird Page 29