by Deja Voss
“I hate you,” she begins to shout. “I hate every single one of you motherfuckers, and if I wasn’t at my place of work I’d say a lot worse.”
“’Nita!” My dad rushes over and grabs her, hugging her tight. “What happened, babe. You gotta tell us. I thought he was alright?”
I don’t think any of us know what to do, so we just stand there with our hands in our pockets, waiting for her. I’m sure only seconds have passed, but it feels like hours. Every moment not knowing what’s wrong with my uncle is torture.
“You all knew he was sick and you let him keep going at it. You let him keep doing this shit. Let him think he was invincible. A girl almost died today because of his stupid ass. Cops are gonna be all over our asses for the rest of our lives thanks to your carelessness. I did my part trying to be a good old lady all these years, but you assholes have taken everything I have. You took my son and you took my husband. You all still have each other, and I have fucking nothing. Nothing,” she wails.
“Aunt Anita, you have all us. Tell us what happened to Stoney,” I plead.
The doctor shows up, and his face looks somber. He keeps a distance from all of us, as if we were going to take whatever he told us and attack him. I know I don’t have any fight left in me right now. My aunt’s already broken my heart.
“Stoney’s gunshot injuries weren’t fatal,” he explains. “The wound was very clean, and there will be no long-term damage. Unfortunately, the anesthesia triggered another stroke. He has yet to wake up, but we aren’t seeing much brain activity from his CT scan. He will wake up, we just can’t say right now how functional he’ll be when he does.”
I sit down and drop my head into my hands.
I don’t hear the rest of what he’s saying because I’m just trying to hold down the sickness in my stomach. From what I gather, my uncle Stoney is gonna be a vegetable, and our talk on the ambulance ride on the way over was probably our last.
“I’m sorry, Driller.” My aunt takes a seat next to me and starts rubbing my back. “I’m sorry I said all that stuff. I just… I love him so much I hate him. Kid, too. These men, I’ve spent my whole life loving them with every fiber of my being, but it was never enough. They never knew when to stop. They just kept going until everything was in ruins. Now Kid gets to spend his life in solitary and Stoney gets his own kind of solace, and us… we all have to try and pick up the pieces.”
“He’s gonna wake up,” I insist. “And Kid’s gonna get out. I know it, Anita. I just know it.”
“And when they do, you better make damn sure, child, that both of them stay the fuck away from that woman of yours. If you love her, you’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe. You don’t ever let her feel the way I feel. You don’t ever give him the chance to hurt her again. I’m not gonna live with any more blood on my hands.”
My dad comes and sits next to her as well, taking her hands in his. “Anita, I’m sorry, babe. This is all fucking terrible. I don’t want to see you suffer like this. Wish it were me in his place.”
“That’s exactly what the fuck is wrong with you people. Old Nasty, you think your son should see you laid up in a hospital bed with wires coming out of your brains? You think he should have to bathe you for the rest of your life and make sure your feeding tube stays hooked up?”
“Not what I’m saying,” he growls.
“You owe everyone an apology on Stoney’s behalf. Everybody you and the old crew put in danger because of your willingness to support my husband’s stubbornness. Cubs, Romeo, I’m looking at you.”
“Anita, it’s fine,” I say. “We all love Stoney. None of us wanted to let him go.”
“You see the way that van went through the window of the shop? What if your woman had been on the other side of that? What if she’d went flying through the windshield? You’d sacrifice the woman you love so you didn’t hurt your uncle’s feelings? That’s fucked up.”
It’s super fucked up.
I haven’t even asked her what happened in the time her and Stoney were alone. I just assumed everything was okay. I stand up from my chair, and I think I’m finally just as pissed off as Anita must be.
“Let me see him,” I say to the doctor. “Just wanna pray with him. Then we’re all meeting in church tonight. Nine PM. No fucking excuses.”
I can’t even look my dad in the eye. Can’t even look Cubby in the eye. Don’t want to blame this shit on any of them; I know they’ve been trying, and I’ll always love them no matter what goes down.
Pearl has served as a welcome distraction from all the shit that needs to go down to get this club back on track, and now she’s going to be the reason why I step up and actually do what needs done.
“I don’t really think he needs visitors right now,” the doctor says.
“He’ll be fine, Doc,” Anita says. “I’ll come with him.”
We walk down the hallway, her cold frail hand squeezing mine the entire way.
“If you want to pull the plug, I understand,” she whispers in my ear as I toe the doorway.
“I’m not going to do that. I’m sorry, Anita. I love you. I love the club. I love Pearl. But I will always love Uncle Stoney, no matter where his mind is. If I know anything, it’s that Stoney is the most loyal man I’ve ever met. He’s the fucking epitome of what the Dead Rings MC is all about. He never did anything to try and hurt us. He did what he did because, in his mind, he thought he was doing right by his club. In a weird way, he thought he was doing right by Pearl. He was trying to save her life. We’re all safe now, and he has nothing but my respect.”
“I know, son,” she says, kissing my cheek.
“And you know, no matter what you’ve lost, you’ll always be one of us. You’ll never be alone a day in your life, Anita.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she says, and for a second she cracks a smile.
I take a deep breath before I walk into the room.
I go to his bedside, trying to be brave, in spite of my mixed emotions. Change has been in the air for so long, but I wish I would’ve stepped up sooner. I wish we could’ve had this conversation when it was less than one-sided.
“I don’t know if you’re in there or not, Uncle Stoney,” I say. “I’m praying you pull through. If you can hear me, I hope you know I’m sorry. I failed you. We all failed you. We saw you slipping a long time ago, and we were all too big of pussies to do anything about it.”
The steady sound of the ventilator whooshing, punctuated with the beeping of the monitor, is almost soothing, like a soundtrack to the hardest conversation I’ve ever had to have in my life.
“I want to thank you for taking care of my woman all these years. I don’t know what you and Vinnie had to do to keep her safe, and I’m sure that’s something you two can talk about one of these days up in the sky, but I’m glad you did. You gave me the greatest gift anybody’s ever given to me. I’m not real thrilled you tried to take her away from me today, though. Probably gonna have to talk about that when you wake up.”
I touch his arm. It feels so warm, so alive, but I know it’s not real. All these machines are keeping him this way. My uncle left us a long time ago, even though he’s still on this earth. I don’t know if I want him to wake up. This life’s already hard enough without the extra layer of not having your mind all there. How sad he must’ve felt. How afraid. How he tried to do it on his own. It guts me.
“I love you, Stoney. You’ll always be my Prez,” I say, squeezing his hand.
“I’m sorry,” a little voice whispers from the doorway. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
My face lights up at the sight of Pearl. I mean, I can physically feel it every time we are in the same room, every time she comes anywhere near me. It’s like being a jack-o-lantern or some shit, and she’s the match to my candle. Cheesy, but it’s a feeling I never had before. Definitely wouldn’t tell the guys that.
“Come here, babe,” I tell her, motioning her by my side. I wrap my arm around her and press my nose to
her hair, smelling her, feeling her, squeezing her. “I’m sorry Stoney tried to kill you today.”
“Listen, one day out of thirty-five years is a hell of a record,” she says with a laugh. “That’s a lot of fucking days. He’s a good man, Driller. He and my dad were just doing the best they could with what they were given.”
“You’re not scared?” I ask.
“I’m so scared, baby. I’m scared of how much I love you. I’m scared the club is going to take you away from me. I’m scared I might hate the only living relative I have. I’m scared everything everyone ever told me about my ability to run a tattoo shop is true, and that with my dad gone, I’ll never be able to do the work I love again. I’m fucking horrified, but I’d rather face all my fears bang on with you by my side and suffer the worst.”
“So what you’re saying is, you’re down for a life of suffering with me? That’s really romantic, Pearl.”
She brushes Uncle Stoney’s hair out of his face and kisses him on the forehead.
I reach down and hug him the best I can without getting tangled up in the wires. “We’ll see you when it’s time, old man. You ready to go home?”
“Please,” she pleads. “What are the odds we can just lock ourselves in your room for the next week?”
“Pretty good if you wanna stop at the grocery store on the way there,” I say with a wink. I slide my hand into the pocket of her jeans and squeeze her a little closer than usual. All this shit we need to face, I don’t even care about. It can wait. Right now it’s all about Pearl and I until she decides otherwise. We can hole up for the rest of our lives for all I care.
“You need anything, Aunt Anita?” I ask as we pass her in the hallway.
“I need to hug this beautiful woman,” she says, grabbing Pearl in her arms. “You do look a lot like your mama did, but I can tell you’re nothing like her.”
“You knew my mom?”
“I knew her very well. Someday we can talk about it, but I think today both of our hearts have had enough.”
“I’m sorry about your husband.” She squeezes Anita, and Anita hugs her back, and nothing else needs to be said. Pearl’s one of us now.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Three Months Later:
Pearl
“I gotta do this,” I say. “For my mental health and yours.”
I double-check the contents of my backpack, making sure I have the bare necessities. Toothpaste, check. Sports bra, check. Art kit with backup pencil sharpeners and markers galore, check.
“I know, love,” he says with his sexy grin. “That’s why I booked the beach house for you.”
“I’m just saying it out loud, hoping I believe it.”
Ever since everything went down, I’ve been a little more than on edge. The guys have been working tirelessly to get the shop back in shape, but my capacity for doing anything but milling around the room and clinging to Driller like any minute I’m going to lose him is entirely too slim. I haven’t drawn. I haven’t written. Hell, I’ve barely gone outside except for the occasional bike ride. Even then, I’ve clung to him the entire time, living in this strange reality that every minute with him could be my last.
I’m not depressed, just tired of losing. My dad dying, Stoney being sent to an assisted care home, finding out I have a sister but not really having the emotional capacity to figure out what kind of relationship we need to have, setting boundaries with Riley finally… there’s been so much loss in my life jammed in such a short period of time, I feel like every day I’m waiting for something else to go.
My one big gain, my one big win, him… it’s not like me at all. And he knows it.
“The girls are really looking forward to spending some time with you outside of here.” He sits down on the bed next to me and wraps his arm around my shoulder.
“The guys are probably really looking forward to us going away.”
“That’s not what this is all about,” he assures me. “Not even a little bit.” He traces his hand up my neck and cups my chin in his hand. “It’s about setting you free again, Pearl. You know I love being with you every minute, but this is not the life I want for you. I know you’re mine, but I never wanted me and this life to dull your shine, babe.”
“So you think I’m just some dusty piece of coal?” I pout my lips and cross my eyes. “I’m just a useless lump, huh?”
“No, but you’re an artist, and a businesswoman, and the most creative person I know. The only thing you’ve created in the last three months is about six different organization systems for my closet. You gotta get out a little, babe.”
I know he’s right, and the fact that he sees it as much as I do is just one of the many reasons why I fall more in love with him each passing day.
There’s a soft knock on the door, and I gulp. That’s my ride. It’s time for me to go. I grip my fingernails into the comforter on the bed and try to choke back my anxiety.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he insists.
“I know.” I rest my head on his shoulder for another minute. “This is so kind of you.”
“I just want you to be happy. I want you to be whole. Now, grab your sunscreen and get up out of here,” he says, throwing my bag over his shoulder. He slaps my ass as we walk to the door and winks at me. He peeks down in my bag and raises his eyebrow at the black satin bag I keep my vibrator in. He plucks it out and tosses it on the bed. “That stays here. I’ll give ya this weekend, but I want you so ready for me when you get back you can’t even function.”
“I still got my fingers.”
“Use ’em for something productive. Like drawing shit.”
I pout my lips and he takes my face in his hands and gives me one of those long hot goodbye kisses that makes me want to leave more often.
The girls are all waiting out in the barroom; Betty, Gwen, Ashley, and even Anita got the weekend off from the hospital to come with me to the beach house for the weekend.
“Get off your phone!” Ashley says to Betty. “We’re not doing that this weekend!”
“I’m just making sure the strippers are all lined up.”
Anita gives her a high five and Driller rolls his eyes.
“I’m just kidding,” she insists. “This is a dick-free weekend. All hoes, no bros. I’m just making sure Decker is on his way with the stuff.”
I can only imagine what kind of party supplies they want for this weekend. Driller assured me I at least have my own room, so if they get out of control I can at least go up there and hide out. I don’t know how much art I’ll be able to make if I have to spend the whole weekend worrying about who took what drugs and how they interact.
Decker comes through the front door with my black travel bag dragging behind him. “Is this what you wanted?” he asks, handing it to me.
I raise my eyebrows and look at Betty. I open up the rolling case and inside is the equipment I take with me when I do road shows, plus gloves, ink, and a couple markers.
“I didn’t ask for this.”
“Oh come on,” Ashley says. “You told me you wanted to do my underboob for me!”
“We’ll see,” I say. It’s been so long I’m beginning to even question my ability, but just looking inside that suitcase makes me more excited than I’ve been in a long time.
“Let’s get this show on the road!” Betty says, slinging her bag over her shoulder.
I linger for a minute, pressing my head to Driller’s chest. This can only be good, right? The only time we’ve spent apart since I came back to town was the day of my dad’s funeral. A little space will probably do the both of us good.
“Be good.” I give him one last kiss and he picks me up off the ground so my legs wrap around his waist.
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Anita says with a giggle. “We’re going to be six miles up the damn road.”
Six miles further than I want to be. But this is good. This is great. This is going to be fun. This is going to be just what I need. Nothing bad is going to happen.
“Come on!” Gwen says, prying me off of him.
I blow him a kiss and we run out the door and pile into Ashley’s SUV. Anita and Betty are already cracking open beers before we even pull out of the parking lot, and Gwen puts on some old ZZ Top song and rolls open the sunroof, shrieking as she lights up a cig.
Something inside of me shifts. My heart lifts. Driller was right. This is exactly what I need. I sing along in the backseat as we make the short drive up the road.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The beach house is really nice. Apparently the club holds their annual rally here, and the rest of the year they rent it out to guys and their families from other chapters of the Dead Ringers. It’s a big old powder blue monstrosity with direct access to the shore. There’s a fire pit out back, and the porch wraps all the way around the place. The artist inside me starts to wake up and sing when I think about sitting outside on the deck, listening to the tide kiss the shore as I play in my sketchbook. It’s been too long.
Betty and Ashley busy themselves unpacking the coolers they brought. We have enough margarita mix to last at least a few weeks, and tons of snack food. I wander through the house to try and figure out what bedroom I want to claim as mine. I keep walking up flight after flight of stairs until I reach the attic, which is basically an entire loft room with a view to die for. The windows overlook the lake, and I can clearly see the lighthouse. I bet at night this place is beautiful.
I often forget how one side of my town varies from the next. Even though my dad rarely took me to the lake when I was a kid, some of my best memories were the days we spent walking in the sand and playing in the water, eating ice cream and digging for sand crabs. Everywhere I go there’s another reminder of him.
I wonder if he didn’t take me out in public more often because he was afraid the men my mother was going to sell me to would try and pick me up. I guess I’ll never know. So many unanswered questions that hadn’t even existed prior to his death haunt me everywhere I go. Even in this perfect beautiful beach house.