by Naomi West
I was so furious I was shaking. “Where is that useless sack of flesh that’s supposed to be watching you?”
Josh rolled his eyes, digging at the bottom of the bag for more chip fragments. “She was easy to get away from; her boyfriend came over and they went into her bedroom. So I just left.”
Bax laughed again, slapping his hand against his knee before going to dig around in the fridge. It was empty except for two half-full bottles of ketchup and a case of beer. Pulling out two beers, he tossed one to me. I caught it, busting it open and taking a good, long sip. The icy cold liquid spilled down my throat, settling in my belly. I sighed, my shoulders relaxing the moment the sweet taste of hops slipped past my lips.
Is there no one around here that is useful?
“I told you Josh wouldn’t stay with the sitter. He always slips away, don’t you, kid?” Bax ruffled his hair before downing an entire beer in two huge gulps and tossing the can aside, grabbing for his second before I’d even taken a second sip of mine.
Josh jumped one last time before slamming down onto the bed with his butt, scattering chip pieces all over the room. “Yup!” His little chest was puffed up with pride. “That bitch ain’t never going to keep me; she sucks at her job and deserves to be fired.”
Shaking my head, I slammed the beer down on the side table next to the bed. Josh’s eyes darted to me. “You can’t just hang out here alone all day, you little brat,” I said, my voice a deadly whisper. It was the only thing Josh responded to anymore, and he turned to me with too-wide eyes. “If you won’t stay with the sitters, I guess I’ll just have to buy you a dog cage to stay in while I’m away.”
Josh wrinkled his nose. “Yeah right.”
I wanted to slap him; Josh was all sass like his damned, crackhead momma. A bitch I’d regretting banging every day for the past eight years. Ever since she dropped off this little bundle of joy on my doorstep and disappeared. There was nothing I could do with him, nothing he would take seriously. It was impossible to tame him. The little jerk just did whatever he wanted, and I couldn’t be around enough to make sure he did what he was supposed to.
How on earth was he ever going to get out of the gang life his idiot father was stuck in if he didn’t go to school?
“Ivy’s a nice lady; she bought me these chips!” Josh said excitedly as he dumped the rest of the crumbs into his mouth and all over the bed. “They were so good; that stupid bitch you left me with didn’t feed me because she hates me.”
I rolled my eyes, glancing at the crumbs all over my sheets. “I’m sure Ivy’s a real nice lady,” I said frowning. “I bet she doesn’t eat chips in other people’s beds.”
But Josh just grinned at me, his little face and hands covered in greasy salt. “Well, where’s the fun in that?”
Chapter Three
Ivy
I have to press my forehead to the cold metal of the railing to wake myself up. I’m not sure how I’m standing after all of that nonsense at work. Cynthia cut out of work again today without calling in, leaving me with an eleven-hour shift and an incredible ache in my back. My spine groaned again as the bus shifted, and I had to fight to keep myself upright. The old lady I’d given up my bus seat for smiled at me with her toothless grin, her ancient, lined hands quaking like she was having a seizure.
I bet no one else on this damned bus would have given up their seat, why did I? But I knew why; it wasn’t because I felt good afterward. It was because helping people was the way I was built. I mostly did this kind of thing out of habit. It was what my father would have done. It didn’t matter than not a single asshole on this whole line would give up their seat to someone who was practically asleep on her feet.
Cursing myself, I took a long, deep breath of the rancid air inside of the bus. It woke me a little, enough to take a look around at the people in the seats around me. I was the only one standing. None of the others on the bus would even look in my direction.
Most likely they don’t want to have to feel sorry for me so they can keep their seat. If they pretend I don’t exist, their conscience stays clear. Bastards. I glanced out of the windows, watching as the muddy, dirty streets passed by in a blur of grays and browns.
Working at the diner wouldn’t be so bad if the assholes who ate there weren’t so grabby. I frowned. As a pretty waitress, flirting with the customers always got me a little more consideration come tip time, but it was a fine line. If I ended up being too heavy-handed at it or flirted with the wrong guys, I could end up with handsy assholes that spend my whole shift trying to put their hands down my pants.
The bus stopped in front of my place after an eternity or two. My feet dragged as I stepped off the stairs into the wet, dripping streets. There wasn’t really any drainage down here, so the streets just kind of filled up with water like kiddy pools that festered with mosquitoes and other vermin. I stepped over what I could and walked around what I couldn’t, unable to even bear the stink of the sitting water. And I only have one pair of shoes, so it’s best to keep them as clean and dry as possible for work tomorrow. I nearly growled at that thought. If Cynthia calls out tomorrow, I’m going to break one of my fingers on purpose and bail.
I climbed the million stairs to my shitty motel room, each one harder than the last. My feet felt like lead in my shoes, and I was having a hard time not weaving all over the stairs in my wariness. I probably looked pretty drunk to anyone else who was around. Get to your room quick, before someone thinks you look like a target and takes your tips again. After the first time, I’d learned to hide my tip money a little more creatively, shoving some in my shoes and even sewing a couple of secret pockets in my uniform.
I always learned my lesson the first time something went wrong. It was a shame I didn’t learn about how people can betray so easily before I lost my whole life to my ex-best friend Janice.
Taking a deep breath as I walked by Josh’s place, I tiptoed past that too-quiet door. I didn’t want Josh’s father to come out and see me; the way he looked at me made me feel ill. So I slid past that door and unlocked mine as quickly as I could. As soon as the door was closed, I shot the bolt home and took a deep, steadying breath.
Pulling little wads of money out of my various pockets, I threw the bills down onto the bed, my hands trembling as I counted the meager earnings. “Pathetic,” I whispered out loud, glaring down at the weak looking total before me. It would take years to save any amount of money with this weak haul. And after a double shift today, too…
I counted up the money I had saved up after I’d taken out everything I’d needed for food and necessities. There was a little more than three hundred dollars in my aluminum lunch box, not even enough to make rent for a month if I ended up without a job or ill. It was mostly just the leftover money I had from selling all of my possessions when I’d realized I would no longer be able to afford to live in my old place anymore. There wasn’t much left inside of that sad little box, but it was my whole life. I had to swallow hard to get rid of the tears threatening the edges of my eyes.
Setting the money back into the lunchbox, I wrapped the whole thing in a plastic bag and resealed it. There were a loose couple of tiles on the bathroom floor that I pulled up, shoving the lunchbox inside to hide it from potential thieves. It was the safest place in the whole building, I’d wager. If a thief found this haul, they’d deserve the paycheck they’d get.
I changed out of my work clothing, rubbing out the worst of the stains and spraying it with a little perfume. I couldn’t afford to wash it again until tomorrow, not with the lousy haul I’d ended up with. Not like I have the energy to walk down to the laundromat right now anyway, I suppose.
Pulling a brush through my hair, I sat down on the bed and closed my eyes. I wanted to pretend, and when I closed my eyes, I felt like I was back at home. My father’s voice floated up the stairs from his office. “Pumpkin, it’s time for bed. Let me brush your hair out,” he’d say. And I’d grin like an idiot before running down the stairs with my brushes.
But who doesn’t like having their hair brushed?
When I opened my eyes, however, my father wasn’t there. There’s only a crappy motel room, rife with wide brown spots of mold on the ceilings and an itchy carpet that I was afraid to walk barefoot over. There’s the rickety bathroom, filled with broken tiles and a leaky sink. The only part of my room that I liked was the view, a view I’d had to scrub the windows with white vinegar and newspapers for several minutes to see.
Even though it was partially obscured by the wooden replacement for the one broken panel in the window, the view was spectacular. From here, I could overlook the river that ran through the middle of town without having to smell it. There were a couple of robust looking trees and I could see the tops of many of the buildings around. Being on the fourth floor did have some perks; along with not having many drunks pass out in front of my door, I got to see the view of the city that I had always wanted.
Even if this isn’t how I wanted to get it.
I pulled out a box of baking soda I’d stolen from work and sprinkled it around the edges of the carpets and around the edges of the bathroom walls. It wouldn’t keep the bugs out entirely, but it would help. It was all I could do since I couldn’t afford the bug spray I’d need to really create a barrier for them. After sprinkling the windowsill, I sat down on my bed and stared out of the window into the night skyline, admiring the glittering gold and silver lights that lit up the streets.
Throwing my blankets off of the bed, I study the undersides in search of bugs or worse, but find nothing. Perhaps keeping my room as food- and bug-free as possible was working out. I kept all of my food and pans and plates in the fridge; it seemed to be the only place the bugs couldn’t get into. It meant the roaches abandoned my place for homes that were less clean and less covered in baking soda.
After turning off all of the lights but the lamp by my bed, I crawled in, pulling the covers up around my head. I stared at the dirty popcorn ceiling, my eyes tracing the little outlines of the bits of plaster.
My eyes started to droop a little as the sounds of the city lulled me into a kind of trance, and I slowly started to fall asleep. I hoped I would dream of the old days before I ended up here. Perhaps if I couldn’t live that life for real, maybe I could live it at night.
But those thoughts were quickly interrupted by the sounds of very loud gunfire.
I bolted upright, my eyes wide and clutching the sheets to my chest. It took me several second to realize that A) no one was shooting at me, and B) the sounds were actually just coming from the TV next door. The sound shuddered through the paper-thin walls making the wooden headboard of my bed quiver with the sound. Frowning, I banged on the wall, but Josh didn’t seem to hear me.
I guess I get to sit here and wait until his father gets home and turns the damned volume down. I sighed, grinding my teeth together as the rowdy sounds of TV violence continued to spill into my room. The boy’s a spoiled brat, thanks to his shitty, no-good father. His incredibly sexy, no-good dad.
I could remember every inch of him behind my closed eyes. The soft, blonde hair hanging in dirty locks to his shoulders with the sides closely shaved. The carefully-kept beard tinged with red. Those amazing smoky gray eyes that were as hard as steel and just as icy cold.
A trickle of warmth lit up my thighs as I remembered over details of the beautiful biker with the wild child. The colorful lines of his flame tattoos coming up over his collarbones to wrap around his muscled neck. Those wide shoulders filled with enough strength to lift me from the ground and--
You’re not seriously daydreaming about the crazy next door neighbor, are you? I admonished myself, surprised at this little turn of events. I mean, he was handsome, well-built, and dangerous as hell. And every single one of those things looked like something I wanted pressed between my legs. There’s no harm in daydreams, I guess.
But those thoughts too were cut short as the TV volume suddenly plummeted, signaling the return of the man next door. The revving of wild engines circled the parking lot, the scream of a motorcycle engines cutting through the sudden silence like a knife.
I pressed my pillow down over my ears, closing my eyes as tightly as I could, trying to drown out reality. This is not where I’m supposed to be. I’m not supposed to be in the poorest part of town, surrounded by bugs, lowlifes, and crazed bikers.
I’m not supposed to be here, dammit. Tears slipped past my eyes, squeezed shut so hard they hurt.
I wanted my life back. A hole cracked open in my chest. I didn’t want that man next door and his kid to hear me crying through the thin walls. So I buried my face in the pillow and sobbed as silently as I could manage until I finally fell into a dreamless sleep.
Chapter Four
Creed
“And what is the most important thing to remember while I’m away?” I asked Josh again as he fidgeted and swirled around the room.
He stopped for a second, staring at me with his huge brown eyes. Little brat was lucky he was adorable. “Don’t open the door for nobody. No matter what. Not even the pizza man or Jerry Springer.” He resumed his bouncing, climbing over the bed and running around the back of it.
“And why is it important not to open the door for anyone no matter what?” I asked, my eyes locked on his little face. I needed to make sure he was taking my warnings seriously. Luckily for me, his brows were furrowed like he was actually thinking his answer through.
Josh bounced off of the edge of the bed and back to his feet over and over, his sticky fingers in his mouth. “Because the last guy I let into our house burned it to the ground, and that’s how we ended up here in this shitty motel.” My kid paused in his jumping for a second, his eyes tracing some invisible pattern on the ceiling. “Did you ever get the guys that did it, Dad? Did you ever go after the men who burnt down our house?”
I wish I could have, Josh. I would have if the Boss would have let me. But he would not, so my hands are tied. I growled something non-committal in response and handed Josh a sandwich I’d bought for him at 7-11. “Here’s your dinner, brat. Try to stay out of trouble, okay? No loud music or TV. Don’t let anyone know you’re home, no matter how nice they look. I mean it.”
Josh nodded as he bounced around, taking the sandwich between his paws and spinning in place. I hated that he did that, hated that the brat couldn’t hold still for even a second to talk to me. But I also knew he couldn’t focus until he was moving and wouldn’t remember a damn word I’d said if I made him hold still. Grunting, I got to my feet and walked out of the motel room, my eyes scanning the world around me for potential hazards. I locked the door behind myself, reset my traps, and started towards the steps.
Rivals are getting really gutsy, attacking us at our homes. It’s no surprise, with the direction the Boss is taking the Devil’s Edge. The feel of the heat from the flames across my skin was burned into my memory. I’d thought Josh died in the blaze that day. If he hadn’t been big enough to pick up a chair from the kitchen and throw it through the window, he probably wouldn’t be here today. And as uncomplicated as that would have made my life, losing Josh wasn’t an option. I’d never forgive myself.
It was all because of the Devil’s Edge and the plans the Boss had for us. No matter how we were attacked, no matter who we lost, the Boss had no interest in being second place. He would do whatever he needed to do to be number one. I tried my best to remain the impartial little soldier serving the Boss, but it was difficult when his choices recently had been so volatile. The whisperings behind his back had become more frequent and open, and he seemed completely oblivious to all of it. There was more crazy in his eyes and less thoughtful expressions on his face. I winced to think about it.
Something is going on, and I have a feeling none of us are going to like it. I have a feeling it involves the drug cartel that we’ve been courting from the south. A drug cartel on our shared territory would be enough to provoke the attacks we’d been experiencing from the other two gangs; it wasn’t only my hou
se that had burnt to the ground in these last few weeks.
Sighing, I swung around the corner from my shitty room, nearly running into the very pretty face of my next door neighbor. She was short, her tiny body seemed to get smaller as she recognized who she’d almost collided with. Her eyes were the color of black coffee. Her gold-touched mocha hair fell in big, winding waves from the crown of her head to nearly the middle of her back. Long lashes slid down over her eyes, her pretty, tanned skin paling a little at the sight of me. Good, she’s scared. As she should be. What did Josh call her? Ivy?
Ivy tried to sidestep around me, ducking her head in a sign of respect. But I stepped in front of her path again, keeping her from moving past me. “Do you think this is some sort of playground, Ivy?” I hissed through my teeth.
The woman looked up at me, her pupils dilating in fear as she took a step back. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. She looked like a fish pulled out of the water to suffocate. Good, that fear is healthy. Perhaps she’ll learn her lesson now instead of me having to rough her up later.