Pawn (The Pawn Duet, Book Two): A King Series Spinoff

by T. M. Frazier

  “And you didn’t buy it?” I ask.

  Percy raises his eyebrows. “No, the old man is getting sloppy in his lies. Has been ever since your old man…well, you know. Pike’s around my age, and he’s a bad motherfucker, don’t get me wrong, I know that, but even the baddest motherfuckers among us wasn’t out on the streets murdering women for no fucking reason at all when they’re in second grade. Even if he could have done it, Pike isn’t that kind of guy. He was a dick to me, for sure, but I deserved it, and I respect that he lives by a code. He ain’t no rat and won’t ever be no rat. Besides, half of the shit I told him in juvie when I was running my mouth wasn’t what came up in the FED’s report. That was some inside shit that only a few people knew, but Pike, he wasn’t one of them.”

  “Do you know who ratted?” I ask, sheepishly, needing to know exactly how much Percy knows and how much of a surprise what I’m about to tell him is going to be.

  “Yeah, and it wasn’t no rat.” Percy chuckles. “Turns out, it was a mouse.”

  “A mouse?” I scrunch my nose.

  He smiles. “A Mickey Mouse.”

  Shit.

  “You knew?” I ask, leaping off the bed.

  “Of course, I fucking did. You came to visit me in prison. You looked fucking terrified. I never saw you like that before. You were always so strong, so leveled-headed. You were on the other side of that fucking glass thing shaking like you were naked in a snow storm. I could see you didn’t want to be there, and at first, I thought, of course she doesn’t want to be here, neither do I, it’s fucking prison. Not only that, but you asked me about all sorts of shit you would never have asked me about before. Matter of fact, we did more talking that day then we had since we were fucking kids.”

  Guilt creeps through my brain causing my body to go cold.

  I slowly approach the bed and sit down again, nervously tugging at the hem of my shorts. “What I did, did it have anything to do with why my family is dead?”

  Percy takes a drag of his cigarette. “No, Darius never knew it was you. I didn’t tell him after I figured it out. He assumed it was Pike the whole time because Pike was transferred out of the detention center shortly after the FBI submitted their evidence to try me as an adult. And I knew, but you gotta know that even monsters have limits. I would never have touched you or your family. I would rather have rotted in that place than hurt you or your sisters. Your moms was cool as fuck, too, always bringing me that bread she made. What kind was it?” He snaps his fingers while he thinks.

  “Banana bread,” I offer.

  “That’s it. That was some good shit.”

  “Then, why?”

  “Your father wanted out. That’s why he was killed. Shit was getting violent, and that’s something your pops never agreed to. Your old man wanted to build a brotherhood to study how loyalty is built outside of a family structure.”

  Learned Loyaly. An in-depth analysis of loyalty outside of the family structure.

  It makes sense now. It was the title of one of my dad’s papers. I remember reading it when I was about nine years old. “How do you know that?”

  “I found it recently in a drawer in Darius’s office. He’s got a bunch of his shit in there.”

  “I know. I found them to,” I admit.

  “What the fuck did I tell you about poking around?” he says, raising his voice in frustration.

  “I know. I know. I couldn’t help it,” I reply. “But, why are my father’s journals in Darius’s office in the first place?”

  Percy shrugs. “My guess is that Darius raided your house and your father’s possessions shortly after his death to get rid of any evidence that this was all just a fucking joke. Your dad was in it for the knowledge and Darius wanted an army for his drug operation. When your old man told Darius he wanted out, Darius made a big show of telling him that he was free to go and that he wished him the best of luck, but to Darius, it was a betrayal he couldn’t live with. He wasn’t about to let your father live with it either. He knew too much that could take it all down.” His face falls. “I told him not to. I tried to warn you. I even went as far as to send men to the beach house to warn you, but it was already too late.”

  “But why kill my entire family?” I ask, my chest heavy. “All of us? Why not just my dad?”

  “Collateral damage,” I suppose. At least, I suspect that’s how Darius sees things.” Percy shakes his head. “He also wasn’t supposed to tell you guys that this was an experiment, but he did. If he couldn’t let your pops live with that knowledge, then he probably couldn’t his family live with it either.”

  Collateral damage. My sisters and mother died because my dad took us with him instead of running alone. The thought makes me hate my father even more. “What about Gutter? What was he? That happened after you were released,” I say, needing an explanation. Not just for myself, but for Pike.

  Percy frowns, staring at his feet. “I didn’t go that day with the rest of the group. I wasn’t there when Gutter was killed. But, I knew what was going down. I knew an innocent man was going to die as revenge for killing my mom, back when I briefly believed that was true.” He scratches his eyebrow with his hand holding his cigarette. “It sounds even more ridiculous that I’m about to say this aloud, but I thought that by not being there, not participating in it, it would somehow save me from the guilt of his death.” He blows out a long plume of smoke. “It turns out that I didn’t need to be the one to deal the deadly blow for Gutter’s blood to show up on my hands.” He takes another drag. His eyebrows knit together in a deep V. “Everything I’ve ever done has been for this cause…a cause that doesn’t even fucking exist. It’s as made up as that purple dinosaur in a kid’s cartoon. A cause not meant to do anything but hurt, and in the end, I deserve to feel every bit of that guilt because I fed into it. I fed it to others!”

  I want to say something that will make him feel better, so I search my memory, my research. “Guilt is a learned emotion. It’s relation to past mistakes, and its existence when previously absent, suggest evolution. Progress. You learned what is right and wrong, and the guilt you feel is proof of your progress.”

  Percy scoffs. “Now, you’re just making shit up.”

  “I don’t make shit up, and I’ll have you know that I don’t joke when it comes to psychological facts. These are finite facts. They can’t be argued with.” I say, triumphantly. “But guilt can also keep a person from having fulfilling relationships. It shows that you’ve made progress, but you won’t be able to move on until you let it go. You’re not a bad person anymore.”

  He looks at me with sad eyes. “Oh, yeah? Is that what you’re doing? Letting go of the guilt so you can move on?”

  I rub my hands up and down my arms, suddenly feeling a chill although it can’t be less than eighty degrees in this room. “Just because I have the knowledge of how guilt works, it doesn’t mean that I’ve made use of that knowledge as of yet.”

  He holds my gaze. “Answer something for me. What makes someone a good person?” he asks, slowly, curiously. “How do we fix this shit?”

  “I have an idea or two,” I admit with a small smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. “And it’s never too late to try.”

  “What’s going on in that brain of yours, Mickey Mouse?” Percy asks.

  There’s a knock at the door. “Come in,” Percy shouts.

  Rage walks in. The girl who placed the fake house arrest bracelet on my wrist at Pike’s house.

  My recruit.

  Of course, it’s her. Her looks alone could gain her access anywhere without much question. Beautiful and innocent-looking. You wouldn’t know what actually lurks beneath all that blonde hair and tan, clear skin.

  Rage’s shiny ponytail is long and smooth, reaching her waist. her blue eyes are bright and yet dull all at the same time. Full lips and high cheekbones, she’s a picture of real-life Barbie-doll perfection. She’s wearing tiny white shorts and a bright pink crop top that reads “Feelin’ cute, might cut you.�
�� White bikini strings poke out from underneath, tied together at the nape of her neck.

  Rage plops down her light blue cheerleading tote bag onto the bed and looks around the room with her nose scrunched up in disgust. “You have cobwebs,” she points out. “Cobwebs are abandoned spider webs, collecting dust and holding the decaying carcasses of other insects. There’s also rat droppings in the courtyard. Rats carry diseases, including but not limited to: hantavirus, leptospirosis, lymphocytic choriomeningitis, Tularemia, and Salmonella. Clean your shit, and get rid of the rodents before you even think about calling me next time. I didn’t come here to be a vessel for the plague.” She takes out a bottle of hand sanitizer from her bag and slathers it onto her hands before tossing it back in. She places her hands on her hips. “Okay?”

  “Uh…okay,” Percy says.

  It’s obvious to me now, when it wasn’t the first time we met, although I was a little preoccupied with being held against my will and getting a bomb strapped to my leg than I was trying to figure out Rage’s quirks.

  “Now, I get it,” I practically sing. “You’re a germaphobe. And I’m thinking that in your case, it’s a symptom of your obsessive-compulsive disorder.”

  “Accurate,” Rage says, not looking even the least bit offended. “And I get that you’re super book smart, but, like, to point out people’s flaws because although you have a high IQ, you doubt your ability to truly understand or connect with people and therefore have to show them your big swinging dick of a brain in a faux polite way in order to make people understand that you’re smart and therefore making them feel inferior and growing your gigantic dick brain that you tuck back in your pants, so you swing it at the next inferior mind you cross paths with?”

  Percy laughs, and I shoot him a scathing look. Backstabber.

  “I mean,” he corrects, clearing his throat. “I wouldn’t go that far, but she’s not wrong either.”

  Unsure of what to say to defend myself, mostly because I’m not sure that she’s entirely wrong, I stick my tongue out at Percy and go with the classic pout.

  “So, this is the new recruit?” Darius drawls, entering the room. “Very nice,” he says, appraising Rage with his eyes. “And what’s your name?”

  “Regina,” she says with a smile. “Regina George.”

  It takes everything I have not to roll my eyes. Regina George is a character from the movie Mean Girls.

  Darius extends his hand to Rage. She keeps the fake smile plastered across her face but takes a large step back. “Sorry, germaphobe. I don’t shake hands, but I can give you a solute or a thumbs up as a replacement.”

  Darius laughs and focuses his eyes on her chest. “Well, done Michaela. Regina can help you get ready for tonight.”

  “Tonight?” Percy asks. “For the barbecue?”

  Darius smiles, showing off his jagged chipped front tooth. “It’s not going to be a barbecue, exactly.”

  “It’s not?” I ask, cocking my head and wondering what Darius is hiding behind his mischievous, evil grin.

  “No, I have something else planned for tonight,” he announces. “You two have waited long enough. The Reich needs you. The members need to know that our leadership is solid and that the next generation is ready to take their rightful places at the head of the table when the time comes. Tonight, we solidify that leadership. Tonight, we join you two together and ensure the future of The Reich.”

  “Excuse you me?” Rage asks, with a hand on her hip.

  Percy and I exchange glances. We don’t have to ask what Darius means. We know exactly what he has planned for tonight. An event he’s been talking about and planning for our entire lives.

  Our wedding.

  11

  Mickey

  Outside in the courtyard, the breeze blows hot against my face. My skin feels tight like I’ve been wrapped in packaging tape.

  The smell of burning wood and liquor mixes with the smell of the surrounding pine trees in what would make a gag-worthy cologne.

  White satin from my simple slip dress clings to my damp thighs as I walk down the aisle, escorted by Hoppy, whose own sweat smells like vodka and potato chips as it drips from the crook of his arm, drenching mine.

  Weddings in the Reich aren’t legally binding, since the Reich doesn’t believe in legal anything. However, they do believe in a medieval ritual about the wedding night that has my pulse racing and my stomach filled with dread as I hold Percy’s clammy hands and prepare to recite false promises. I feel both numb and enraged, if that’s even possible. I use every drop of anger flowing through my blood to fuel my purpose. Every word dripping from my mouth is said with reverence and sincerity that makes me nauseous and eager to see Darius’ blood pooling at my feet. This is just a play. This isn’t something that can’t be undone, and yet it feels like a betrayal.

  My stomach rolls.

  Rage stands beside me, wearing the same pink shirt and white shorts she wore earlier in the day. Her duties tonight include reluctant bridesmaid and witness. She looks bored, checking her nails and shuffling from one foot to the other.

  Darius is wearing a dark blue suit jacket, jeans and a big, shit-eating grin. When he asks if we are ready, he sounds as if he’s asking us if we are ready for our coronation as the King and Queen of this shithole.

  Percy and I nod and exchange knowing glances. Darius had shuffled him from the trailer earlier, and since then, we’ve had no time to talk about the ceremony or plan for what’s to come.

  Escape wasn’t an option either. I’m sure that the reason why several high-ranking Reich members were trailing me and pulling me one way or another today was not because they wanted to help me with the dress and my bouquet, but because Darius wanted to ensure that tonight would go forward without a hitch and remind me that cold feet were not an option.

  Percy recites his vows, and although I assumed he would act the part and be more enthusiastic, his voice is almost monotone. “I promise to hold order in my household and to be accountable for my wife. I promise to uphold the teachings of the Reich, and I vow to uphold the distinctions between races as our supreme being intended when he created the white man in his image.”

  I tune out in order to hold my shit together and prevent my hands from trembling in Percy’s. The middle finger on my right-hand spasms, and Percy doesn’t draw attention to it. He simply holds it tighter in order to still the tremors.

  “Are you ready, Michaela?” Darius asks.

  I nod and force a smile. Darius states the words I am to repeat, and I do so without cringing outwardly, but only because I’ve practiced not cringing. It took hours of reciting the words until they became empty ones and my food stopped threatening to make a reappearance.

  The vows are based on the original creed of the Klanswomen used by the KKK and the women of the KKK otherwise known as the WKKK. The Fourth Reich broke off from them because the KKK recruited women in the 1920’s by promoting this radical idea of female equality, and that was just too much for some of the men who generally didn’t like anyone being equal to them. Boom. The Fourth Reich was born. Or non-aborted.

  Either way, here we are.

  “I believe in the American home and understand that I’m the vessel for my husband. The one who will carry our children and ensure our family and the future of the Reich.”

  Deep breath. No bile. So far, so good.

  “I believe in the mission of the woman and my role in the Reich. I stand with my husband equally and therefore agree to submit myself to him and his knowledge for the benefit of our family and the benefit of the American republic and will dutifully fulfill my role as wife and servant.”

  “I promise to protect our institutions the Reich supports and the institution of a supreme white America.”

  After the last words leave my mouth, I bow my head. It looks as if it’s out of respect and being truly humbled, but in actuality, it’s because the bile has risen and I’m trying not to spew all over my dress because puking at your wedding is an all too obv
ious sign that something isn’t right. I’ve worked too fucking hard for my fragile system to give me away and give them reasons to ask questions I’m already trying to make answers up for just in case it comes to that.

  I don’t even hear the bullshit Darius finishes the ceremony with. By the time I’m sure I’ve willed everything back into my stomach where it belongs, I raise my head and Percy lifts my vail. He plants a quick kiss on my lips before stepping back and allowing the crowd to clap and holler as he tugs me down the aisle. I guess it’s over. I’m both relieved and utterly terrified because the night is far from over.

  I look to Percy who is shaking his father’s hand and accepting a congratulatory pat on the back.

  Whatever relief I’m feeling is short lived. Again, I swallow down the bile threatening to make its presence known in all too dramatic fashion.

  Percy tugs me down the long line of people waiting to offer their congratulations. I’m numb as I accept them, responding to empty words with only a smile and a nod and the occasional thank you, too preoccupied with what’s to come. The ceremony might be over, but the night is far from finished.

  Because tonight is my wedding night.

  Rage disappeared shortly after the ceremony, no doubt to tell Pike what just took place. I feel even more nauseous at what his reaction is going to be as I enter Percy’s trailer.

  I’m glad my family isn’t appearing to me right now because even ghosts shouldn’t have to bear witness for what is about to happen in this room. The Ceremony, as it’s called.

  Summed up, it’s a sick ritual where all future leaders of the Reich require witnesses to their union. In layman’s terms, they want to watch us fuck.