Nine, the Tale of Kevin Clearwater

by T. M. Frazier

  He raises his eyebrows, causing the scar on the left side of his face to appear more prominent. “Oh yeah, then what the fuck do you call that look you just gave her?” Preppy asks knowingly. I look to my shoes to avoid the shit-eating grin I know is on his smug face right now. “Or maybe, what I caught you two doing after the whole explosion episode? Because working her is exactly how I would describe it.”

  I look to King and Bear. I’m my own man. I’m a leader, but being in the presence of the three men who run this town still has a way of making me feel like a kid again. A kid who has to prove himself at every turn.

  I hate that feeling.

  Preppy laughs. “I filled them both in on that juicy tidbit. You know me and gossip. It’s hard to keep that shit to myself.” He claps me on the back and plops next to me on the step. He wraps his arm around my shoulder in an affectionate, almost-strangle. “But just a tip from one stalker to another, jerking off outside of her bedroom window doesn’t make you a stalker, it makes you a peeping tom. Whole other ballgame and somewhat mildly to majorly frowned upon in the eyes of…well…” He cocks his head and looks to the sky before his eyes meet mine once more. “…everyone.”

  I reach for a beer that King hands me when I’m reminded of the pain in my arm.

  “You hurt?” King asks, never being much for words.

  “Just a scratch,” I say. “Can’t stay long. Ricci’s men could be anywhere. Gotta get Lenny out of here. Don’t need to put the family in the crosshairs.”

  “Yeah,” King says. “That’s a part of the reason we’re here.”

  “Part?” I raise an eyebrow.

  He leans his elbows onto his knees. “Yeah, part. I heard from one of Ricci’s men on the inside. It turns out that they’ve got proof that Lenny was in on Jared’s scheme. Her signature is on all of the transfer papers. They can’t find where the cash was transferred to, but they think she might know.”

  Lenny signed off? She knew?

  “That doesn’t make sense.” I tell them about the head of Jared’s business partner I found in her bed and about her eviction. “If she had a stockpile of money laying around somewhere, she wouldn’t have lost her business, her house, or her car. Jared wouldn’t have left her.”

  “Or she could just be really good at making people believe she doesn’t have a stockpile of money somewhere before she thinks it’s safe enough for her to skip town. I mean, not to brag, but I’m pretty fucking good at it myself.” Preppy chimes in. “Seriously, I’ve got cash everywhere.”

  Bear peels the label off his beer. “Or she was in on the scam, but Jared cut her out and left her high and dry before his plans to skip town were…interrupted.”

  “What do you believe?” King asks. He lights a joint and hands it to me. I take it and inhale deeply. When I exhale, the pain isn’t as sharp as before. “It’s not like you know the girl.”

  I sigh and scratch my head. “That’s the fucking thing.” I look up at the three of them. “I do know her.”

  “Bullshit, you just know you want in her pants,” Bear scoffs. “Felt the same way with my woman.” His smile widens as he realizes what he’s just said.

  “It’s more complicated than it looks,” I offer, with an exasperated sigh.

  “Have you met me? I’m the Emperor of motherfucking complicated land,” my brother says. “So, spill.”

  That is true. If Preppy didn’t already have a name complicated would be his first, middle and last.

  “Lenny isn’t just Jared’s ex-girlfriend. She’s also someone else.” I don’t even know how to begin to explain about Lenny and the few moments I knew her that changed the rest of my life.

  “She’s a man!” Preppy gasps. “That’s terrible. Unless you’re into that kind of thing, then good for fucking you, bro.” He gives me two thumbs up and the goofiest grin on the planet.

  I slap his thumbs down. “No, motherfucker. She’s not a man. She’s the girl from the fucking bridge.” My voice is louder than I intended. I turn around to make sure no one was listening. Thankfully, Lenny and Dre are still talking.

  “She’s…” Preppy says in disbelief, his jaw to the ground. “Oh, motherfucking holy shit of fucking fucks.”

  “Brother, for the first time and probably the last time ever, I’m going to tell you this.” I put my hand on his shoulder. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

  “So, wait…you and Jared’s girl?” Bear cocks his head and squints.

  “She’s not Jared’s girl,” I correct again. I look over to my brother because he’s the only one besides Pike who knows about that night.

  “Uh, how? Thought that girl from the bridge was dead?” Preppy asks, his jaw on the floor. “She fell from the Causeway for fuck’s sake!”

  “I thought she was dead, but as you can see, she’s not because she’s inside your house talking to your wife.” I’m saying the words, but I still can’t believe my own words are actually true.

  She’s here.

  She’s alive.

  I killed her boyfriend.

  “Whoaaaaaaa,” Preppy says doing an explosion gesture with his hands on each side of his head. He quickly fills King and Bear in on the story as I chug my beer in an attempt to numb the pain in my arm that’s getting worse by the second.

  “Well, this puts a bullet in our plans to torture the information out of her,” Bear says. “But, just like in the MC, if you lay claim to her, she’s under your protection and that means she’s under ours, too. That’s your call, but remember that you don’t get to change your mind once it’s done.”

  King empties his beer and stands, tossing it into a metal trash can on the side of the deck. “Claiming her also means that if she turns out to be lying, we won’t touch her. It’ll be on you to make shit right if it turns out that she was the one responsible for fucking us over, and I don’t think I gotta explain to you what that means.”

  I nod my understanding. It means if she needs to be taken out, I’m the one that has to do the taking out.

  “So, what’ll it be, brother? She yours?” Bear asks, looking highly amused.

  I look through the sliding glass doors and catch a glimpse of Lenny’s long brown hair as she crouches down, talking to my twin nieces. They giggle at whatever it is she’s saying. A feeling inside me more powerful than any drug I’ve ever sampled takes hold.

  Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine to protect. Mine to…

  I don’t even have to finish the thought. I have my answer.

  “Yeah, she’s mine.”

  King looks into the house, a grin spread across his face. “The question is, does she know that?”

  Lenny picks up Miley and twirls her around.

  “No,” I stand and toss my beer in the trash. “but she’s going to find out.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  LENNY

  “For the love of all that is unholy, please tell me you have vodka in Breaking Bad two-point-o?” I point to Nine’s RV. It’s yellow on the outside, although I’m not sure if that was the original color or if it ended up that way over time. It’s around thirty feet long if I had to guess with brown and orange pin striping down the middle.

  “I might have some stashed somewhere,” he replies, leading me to the door with my backpack in hand. “But I’m not sure how I feel about you calling my RV a meth lab.”

  “Hence the two-point-o.” I explain. “Do you live here all the time or is this just where you take your victims? Like a dungeon on wheels. How modern and convenient.”

  He rubs his temple with his free hand. “I used to live with Preppy and Dre and their son Bo, but it got a little crowded when the twins were born. Figured it was time to give them some space. Here I can keep an eye on the fields, especially at night when the local kids get the bright idea to jump the fence in search of free weed.”

  The inside of the RV is different in the light of day. It’s older, with faux oak panels covering the walls and a thin dark carpet on the floor, but clean. Simple. Off white no-nonsense
flat cabinets hang above an open galley style kitchen with a two-burner stove and half-sized black refrigerator. A two person eat-in counter with cracked linoleum counters separate the kitchen from the tiny living area. A forest green built-in sofa sits to one side, a smaller than is trendy flat screen sits on top of a pile of books on the opposite wall. No pictures. No visible personal items of any kind besides the books, but they could just be here to prop up the TV. A door separates the small living area from what I think is probably the bedroom. It can’t be more than two hundred square feet but it has everything a bachelor could need.

  Nine ducks so he doesn’t hit his head on the low ceiling by the door.

  Everything except maybe head space.

  “Good, then point me in the direction of said vodka because I’m going to need a drink or twenty before we begin the torture and interrogation,” I announce.

  Nine shuts the door behind me, and I jump at the sound of the lock clicking into place. Unsure of what to do with myself and unsure of where the vodka is, I press my nails into my palms until it stings.

  Nine sets down my backpack on the counter. He’s a large man, but looks even more massive in this space. Like a giant crashing in a home belonging to elves.

  He takes two strides, and he’s in the kitchen. He opens the cabinet above the refrigerator and takes out two paper cups and a full bottle of vodka. He pours one drink and sets it on the counter, pushing it toward me.

  I bypass the cup and round the counter, plucking the bottle out of his hands. “Thanks,” I offer, I plop down on the stiff green sofa. I feel his eyes on me as I take several burning swallows. When I’m done, I don’t set the bottle down but rather I cradle it like a baby in my arms. “I’m ready,” I announce. “Commence with the torture.”

  Nine drains his cup and sets it down on the counter, not even cracking a smile at my attempt to lighten the potentially murderous situation. He makes his way toward the couch, but remains standing, towering over me.

  “Were you involved in Jared’s scheme to rip off the cartel, the MC, and my friends?”

  “No,” I answer.

  He looks to be thinking.

  “Did you sign as a witness on any of the documentation forms for the transfers from our accounts to himself?”

  “No! I’ve never signed anything with Jared. I have nothing to do with his company or whatever it is you think he stole. Why don’t you find him and ask him? I think that might be a better use of your time. I’m just saying.”

  I take a big swig from Baby Vodka.

  “Is this the part where you taze me or rip out one of my teeth?” I ask.

  Nine’s serious façade breaks with the slightest upward turn of the corner of his mouth. “Not just yet.”

  “Okay, saving the excitement for later. Delayed gratification.” I wink. “Got ya. Like your tactic. Draw out the torture. Make me mentally suffer before I physically suffer.” I take another swig from the bottle. “Okay, next.”

  He frowns. “Do you know where Jared hid the money he stole or where it is now?”

  I hold his gaze, unblinking. “Nope. But I was kind of wondering where the money is that he stole from me as well, or better yet, why he would steal my money when he’d already stolen all this cash from you guys. How much was it by the way?”

  “Millions,” Nine offers.

  I’m so surprised by the amount that I accidentally spit vodka all over Nine’s jeans. He doesn’t so much as flinch. He just stares at me, gauging my every reaction.

  I bet he didn’t see that reaction coming.

  “Shit, and here I was pissed about sixty-grand.” I say.

  Nine’s only response is a hard stare.

  I sigh. “Alright, is this when you get out the tools? Show me how sharp and pointy they are?”

  He wrinkles his forehead. “No, I had something else in mind.” His eyes darken, and my stomach flutters. I don’t know if it’s fear or the vodka that makes my body suddenly feel too hot for my skin.

  “And…what is that?” I ask.

  Nine leans down, his lips are a breath away from mine.

  I smell mint on his breath. I close my eyes, not sure what to expect, but it sure isn’t, “Food.”

  “Food?” I open my eyes to find that he’s already across the room in the small kitchen. He opens the refrigerator and gets out lunch meats, breads, and paper plates.

  “Food?” I repeat the question.

  “Yes, food. I can hear your stomach growling from here.”

  “Oh, that’s just my stomach processing the vodka,” I lie. “I can’t remember the last time I actually ate and I hadn’t even heard my stomach growing until he pointed it out and now it’s all I can hear.

  I stand with my bottle and walk to the small counter. I take a seat at the bar and set the bottle down without releasing it.

  Nine raises his eyebrows. “It’s yours. I’m not going to take it. You can let it go.”

  Reluctantly, I let it go, and he pushes a large sandwich in front of me.

  “Eat,” he orders.

  My stomach growls again; my mouth waters at the sight.

  Apparently, I’m not the only one who’s hungry. I’m not even halfway done with my sandwich when I look up and Nine’s already finished with his first and working on making a second.

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve eaten with anyone,” I admit, chugging the glass of water he pushes to me followed by more vodka. “Well, maybe Yuli, but she’s on a plane to Africa by now.”

  “You had a boyfriend. That you lived with. How is that possible?” Nine asks, taking another bite.

  I think for a moment, squinting as if the reason why could only be seen through tiny slits in my eyes.

  It can’t.

  “I’m not sure. We had charity dinners and things like that, but nothing where it was just him and me. We both worked really late and never ate together and he left really early so no breakfast together either. There always had to be a reason for why we ate together, an event. It was never because we wanted to spend time together, probably because we didn’t.”

  Nine scratches his jaw. “So, you’re telling me that you guys have never been out on a real date? Isn’t that what couples do? Dates and shit like that?”

  “I wouldn’t know. It was my first and only relationship, but if you haven’t guessed it already by the word vomit and tendency to make jokes in the face of death, I’m an anxious person. Jared never knew how I’d react to certain things, and he never understood it. So maybe, he was just trying to avoid—”

  “Having to deal with it?” he interrupts.

  My shoulders fall as the realization sets in. Nine’s right. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “What a fucking shit,” he mutters, crumpling up his napkin.

  “Understatement of the fucking year,” I mutter to Baby Vodka, my hand back around its neck.

  We finish our food, and Nine goes to take a shower.

  “Don’t go anywhere,” he warns, heading into the other room. “I’ve got cameras and alarms everywhere.”

  I wipe the crumbs from the counter into my hand and shake them off in the trash. “Ha ha. Jokes on you, buddy, because it’s not like I have anywhere to go,” I say to myself.

  A few moments later, Nine comes back from the other room. He’s wearing tight white tank top and grey sweatpants. His hair is wet and slicked back. There’s a large tattoo on his chest, but I can only see what looks like black feathers peeking out from his shirt, stretching to his shoulders and down his biceps. Wings that I can rule out as angel wings since they’re black and Nine is obviously no angel. His hazel eyes shine in the dim room. His large body takes up so much space in the room I can feel him next to me even though he’s not.

  For the first time in hours, I’m at a complete loss for words.

  I’ve never seen someone so effortlessly good-looking before. Jared was always pudgy around the middle and, even though he wouldn’t ever admit it, he used tinted face moisturizer, which is practically
man-makeup.

  Nine catches me staring, “Like what you see?”

  I tear my eyes from him and look to my nails, trying my best not to sound affected. “You? No, you’re nothing special to look at. In fact, I think you could probably stand to bulk up. Switching up your fitness routine could work. You know, a change from torture and maiming to, perhaps, ax throwing or lumberjacking.”

  He chuckles, and the sound washes over me as if he’s touched me with his words. “You’re cute when you ramble.”

  “I am, actually. Thanks for noticing. ‘Bout time someone did.”

  “Shower’s in there,” he jerks his chin to the room behind him.

  I grab my backpack and Baby Vodka and squeeze past Nine’s body as I make my way through the door, assaulted with his smell and the heat of his nearness, as head to the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. I release a long held breath and lean onto the counter for support. I look up and wipe away the steam clouding the mirror at my weary reflection.

  My makeup from the night before, or two nights before, or whenever it was that this entire shit show started, is smeared down my face. My hair is a nest of a nest. Worst of all, is that I’m too sober because if I were drunk, then I wouldn’t even realize how much of a hot mess is currently staring back at me.

  The bathroom is rather large for an RV. Full-sized shower and sink.

  I run the shower. The bathroom smells like his soap. Light and masculine.

  Before I get in, I pluck my phone from my backpack to see if Yuli has texted me from the plane like she promised, but I have zero bars. I hit the speed dial with her number, and sure enough the message on the other end tells me that my service has been disconnected.

  I toss it back in the bag with a frustrated growl and step into the shower.

  I find a washcloth and locate the body wash on the ledge. I take my time, soaping up my body from head to toe and shampooing my hair. When I’m done, I grab my toiletries bag from inside my backpack and brush my teeth twice. I comb my hair and search the few items of clothing I’d shoved inside. I pull on a pair of navy blue lace panties and realize I didn’t bring any pajamas or really anything that could be considered pajamas at all. What I shoved in my bag in my delirious state is one crumpled business suit that I was going to have tailored because the seam in the back is ripped up the ass and a red pleather skirt I wore for Halloween one year when I dressed up as the devil.