He felt his throat tighten. “That sounds like Maddy,” he said.
“The biggest thing — she never made me feel like she was doing me a favor. She wasn’t saving me. She was just giving me a hand, like it wasn’t a big deal. She said that it beat finding another roomie, which would be like ‘auditioning a freakshow’, but I knew the truth.” Thuy rubbed at her eyelashes, catching the droplets that had accumulated on them, and then laughed. “She’s the best friend I’ve ever had. She cared about me more than my own blood did, and she’s always been there for me. If she needs me, I’m there — no questions, no hesitation. I love her.”
They fell silent again. He stretched his arm out along the couch, resting it lightly against Thuy’s shoulders. He wanted to hug her, after her story, but felt weird about it. He was so damned emotional, was the problem. After the hospital, and now all Thuy’s stuff…
He cleared his throat. “My dad used to beat the shit out me,” he said, then stopped.
Where the hell did that come from?
Thuy made a sympathetic noise, curling into him a little more. He could feel her body heat, a comforting warmth. “I figured as much,” she admitted. “Maddy sort of hinted at it.”
“I wouldn’t have left if I thought he’d hit her,” Drill said quickly. “But if I stayed, I would’ve killed him. That wouldn’t have been good for anybody, especially not Maddy. And I know my Dad was an asshole to her, but she had food and a place to stay. And she was always good in school, and she loved softball, and he let her play. That was all that mattered.”
Thuy sighed. He felt her head rest against his shoulder, and he felt some of the tension drain out of his body. Tentatively, he put his arm around her, snuggling her a little closer.
“The club was my saving grace,” he said. “I thought it was my family. Now, I’m starting to wonder if they give a shit about me at all anymore. I feel like my life’s fucked. I don’t know what I should be doing.” He let out a low laugh. “And here I am, whining to you.”
“Don’t,” Thuy said. She tilted her head up, grabbing his jaw and forcing him to meet her eyes. “Don’t act like because you’re a guy, you’re not entitled to talk things through. You’re upset. You deserve someone who’ll let you vent. You don’t have to be alone.”
And there it was. He’d felt alone, even in the crush of the club, for too long.
He leaned down slowly, not going for her lips. Just resting his forehead against hers, his eyes closed.
“You’re a damned good woman, Thuy,” he said, his voice rough.
He sensed rather than saw her smile. “And you,” she said softly, “are a better man than you give yourself credit for.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Thuy was still feeling the aftereffects of her talk with Drill the previous night. It wasn’t like they’d done anything — he hadn’t even stayed that late, leaving before midnight. But she’d shared with him a secret she hadn’t even told Maddy. She’d trusted him with her past. All because he was wrestling with his own.
They were a fucked-up pair, she thought, as she shelved books. Families could be a special form of hell, leaving an indelible stamp on you. She’d spent enough time doing everything she could to pretend that she’d simply been born fully formed in college, to no family. But talking with Drill reminded her that she’d survived a lot.
And gotten out stronger.
She frowned, flitting through the cookbook section, putting away old, large volumes. She picked up a book on knitting patterns, and put it on the shelf behind her.
She hadn’t really thought about how the crazy, horrific stuff of her childhood had made her strong enough to withstand the rigors of life. Getting her MLIS online, while working two jobs to pay for it, had been nuts — but compared to what she’d gone through, it had been a cakewalk. Even Maddy would joke that living up to the expectations of her coaches and teachers was nothing after living with her perfectionist father. Maybe Drill’s time at the club was the same way.
Still, she’d had a refuge. She’d had the library. From the time she’d gone to school on, library time was her absolute favorite thing. The gorgeous picture books, even beat-up, torn and taped, were fascinating to her. She learned to read very early, and borrowed as many books as she could. When she’d gotten old enough to get out of the house by herself, she and her brother would wander to a nearby public library. Her brother tended to just play video games like Minecraft or try to watch porn on the computers. She, on the other hand, would go straight to the children’s section and read like crazy.
Libraries inspired her, gave her a place to escape. That was why she’d gone into library science in the first place.
There was such a renaissance in YA literature at this point, too, she thought as she put away some biographies. It was really a pity that the Green Valley library didn’t have a bigger selection. She knew that it was hard, especially when you were cash-strapped. Still, there was obviously a need.
It was only her second day on the job, and she didn’t want to pressure Julianne about it too much, especially since she’d need to take some time off in the new year to pack up the apartment she’d shared with Maddy in Oakland and get it moved out to Tennessee. But she did promise Kevin she’d talk to the woman about the time limits on computer usage. Maybe she could bring up the YA books as well.
Squaring her shoulders, she pushed her now empty library cart into the back room. She passed Naomi working at the circulation desk, about to finish her shift. She glanced back to see Julianne going over some correspondence at her desk.
Thuy knocked gingerly at the doorframe. “Do you have a second?”
Julianne nodded stiffly. “Is there a problem?”
“No. Well, not exactly.” Thuy cleared her throat. “I wanted to ask — is there any way to extend the computer usage time?”
Julianne’s expression grew pinched, like she’d just eaten a sour kumquat. “I think an hour is more than sufficient for anyone’s needs,” she said primly.
“Yes, well…” Thuy bit her lip, trying to think of how to word it. “Maybe we could extend it a bit on special occasions — like teen night? You’ve got a few gamers here, and…”
“I don’t want people using the computers for games. Especially not violent ones,” Julianne said immediately, rearing back a little. “They’re meant for research, or helping people who need internet access.”
“I’m not saying they should only be used for gaming, by any stretch,” Thuy quickly agreed. “I’m just saying — it’s a nice thing for the kids who don’t have internet access readily available at home. They see their friends playing on phones or hear about the ones who do have access to playing, and they feel left out.” At least, that was the impression she got from Kevin. “Besides, there are worse things that kids could be doing with their time.”
She thought of Drill, what he’d been doing at sixteen. Hell, what her brother had been doing, at a younger age.
There are a lot worse things than video games.
“It could also be a good way to reel in more teenagers to teen night,” Thuy said, warming up to the idea. “I was also wondering if we could… well, I don’t know what the budget is, but our YA section seems a bit slim.”
Julianne had shifted from looking irritated to looking angry. “We have had a skeleton budget for years,” she said.
“I can only imagine,” Thuy said with feeling. “I’ve seen how libraries all over the country are dealing with cuts, and I know that rural communities especially have suffered the worst.”
That seemed to mollify her a bit. “As a result, YA hasn’t been the top of our priorities,” Julianne said. “There also hasn’t been a huge demand there. The teens here tend to lose interest after middle grade. A lot of them are either working on farms, pursuing sports, hanging out with their friends, or… I don’t know. I suppose they move on to adult books.”
Maybe that’s because there’s not a large enough selection! Thuy wanted to protest, but she did
n’t want to piss the older woman off more than she already seemed to be doing. There had to be a solution to this problem.
“We still accept outside donations, right?”
Julianne looked surprised at her seeming change of topic. “We do, yes. Although mostly we get old books, cookbooks — not a lot of recent or relevant things.”
“Thanks,” Thuy said, smiling as some of the tightness left her chest. “I’ll get back to work.”
“Fine.” Julianne looked at her suspiciously, then turned back to her desk.
Thuy grinned. She’d seen a Twitter campaign that a woman in California had done, requesting books for the antiquated selection in her rural hometown’s school library. She knew that the YA author community was incredibly generous. She’d see if maybe she could set up a wishlist. It made her smile, to think about introducing Kevin, Ginny, and Jeremy to some great new reads. Hell, she’d recommend a lot of it to adult readers, as well. There was some great stuff out there.
Now, she just had to get the word out — and get the donations.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
It was early, like seven in the morning, and brisk as hell when Drill went out to meet Catfish at Hank Weller’s boat. They were going after muskies, so he’d brought the proper gear, but for the first time in a long time, his heart wasn’t in it. He usually enjoyed the hell out of fishing, and he and Catfish and Hank, and sometimes Beau Winston, had gone out on Hank’s boat a lot over the years.
But last night, after he’d talked to Thuy, he hadn’t slept a wink. He was shaken at how forthright he’d been with her. He hadn’t talked with anybody like that in — he frowned, doing some calculations — ever. He’d never been that open, with anyone.
He’d left at midnight. He wanted to talk to her more, but he was feeling sort of raw and vulnerable. Also, holding her in his arms, just snuggling with her, had been a welcome and unexpected soft place he didn’t know he needed. Or craved. He got the feeling if he’d stayed longer, he would’ve pushed his luck, and he didn’t want to fuck up the nice moment that they’d had. And if that doesn’t sound like a chick, he scowled at himself, I don’t know what does.
So, he’d gone home, but he’d been too wired to sleep. He’d tried watching some TV, even jerking off, but he wound up awake and bored. Instead, he’d taken Thuy’s advice, gotten a reading app for his phone, and bought the book she mentioned.
He only meant to read a few pages, to see if it would even be comfortable on the little screen. How the hell was he supposed to know he’d get hooked by the first chapter? He kept meaning to shut the damned thing off, even when it had run low on batteries and he’d plugged it in nearby, so he could continue reading. When his alarm went off, telling him it was time to get ready to meet Catfish, he felt sandy-eyed and wrung out.
He was nowhere near the end of the story, and he was dying to see how it would shake out. Which was a weird new experience for him.
Catfish was already waiting for him by the boat launch when Drill rolled up. Drill sighed, knowing he’d probably fall asleep on the boat.
“Where’s Hank?” Drill asked, rubbing his hand over his face after he put the helmet on the seat of his bike.
“Hank’s not coming. What happened to you?” Catfish responded, his expression amused. “You look like shit.”
“Thanks,” Drill drawled. He grabbed his tackle kit from a side bag. He always borrowed everything else from Hank — hard to travel on a motorcycle with a fishing rod.
“What, did you finally hook up with someone?” Catfish asked, with a hoot of laughter. “Jesus. I was starting to think you’d turned into a monk.”
Drill shrugged, adding a noncommittal grunt. The less Catfish knew about Thuy, the better.
“She any good?” Catfish pressed.
“Townie. You know how it is.” He definitely didn’t want Catfish to dig any deeper.
“Must’ve been decent. You look wrung the fuck out.” Catfish laughed again. “Good. It’s about time we lightened up a little. I know how hard the past six months have been.”
“Why isn’t Hank coming?” Drill asked, wanting to change the subject.
Now Catfish’s expression turned somber. “Yeah. I wanted to talk to you, just us. No Hank, no Dave.”
Ah, shit. Drill made a big show of climbing onto the big boat. He’d let Catfish do the driving.
Catfish took the boat out on the lake. Drill fell asleep for a while, the monotonous sound of the engine knocking him out. He woke when Catfish shook his shoulder; they’d stopped. Without a word, the two of them gathered up their rods, put on their spinning lures, and cast out into the water. Catfish started reeling the cast back in with slow, easy motions, not really paying attention to what he was doing.
“We need more order in the Wraiths,” Catfish said, without preamble.
Drill didn’t even pretend he was trying to fish. He let his lure just dangle there in the water. “Okay,” he said, unsure what Catfish meant.
“I’ve stepped up as president. I think everybody’s on board with that now — and if they weren’t, then we’ve made sure they know they’re not welcome.”
Drill grunted again. Since he’d personally beaten the shit out of the naysayers and made sure they were shown the door if they didn’t sign on, he was well aware of this.
“But that’s not enough,” Catfish said, and for the first time, Drill saw not only exhaustion but uncertainty cross his friend’s face. “Dave wants to be co-president. Or at least vice president.”
“Okay,” Drill repeated.
Catfish let out a long, irritated exhalation. “And I don’t trust that sonofabitch.”
Drill chuckled. “Of course not,” he said. Anybody who knew Dave knew that much was obvious.
“He knows too much about our money, and he’s good with it. We need him. I don’t care if he’s skimming as long as he keeps it within bounds,” Catfish said, pulling the lure out and casting again. “We need a VP, though. Promote a few more guys to captain — without Repo, there’s definitely a lack of leadership. And we’ll want an enforcer, or sergeant at arms. Somebody who’ll lay down the law. Somebody who everybody knows will lay down the law.”
Drill stiffened, trying not to look at Catfish. He got the feeling he knew where this conversation was going… and what job he was being offered.
“I was thinking of making Tim King the enforcer.”
“What?” Drill turned, shocked. “Are you kidding me? The guy who put Frank Helms in the hospital?”
“Yeah. I mean, that was stupid, but I give him points for enthusiasm,” Catfish said, smirking and shaking his head. “And if somebody’s breaking the rules of the club, then that’s the kind of response I want, you know?”
Drill was flabbergasted. He thought that Catfish was setting him up to take over the official role of enforcer — which wouldn’t be a stretch, considering it was what he’d essentially been doing for years. “Fucking Timothy King,” Drill said, shaking his head.
“Did you think I was cutting you out?” Catfish stopped reeling, surveying Drill seriously. “Nah. You’ve been my brother through all of this. I only patched in a few years earlier than you. We basically came up together.” He paused, grinning a little. “Remember when we both got drunk, back when you were seventeen?”
Drill rolled his eyes. “Shit, yes. You puked on that stripper.”
“And you passed out and woke up with a dick drawn on each cheek, and one down your nose. It was hilarious.”
Drill laughed, and for a second, it was like old times — back when he and Catfish were badasses, fresh recruits. When it looked like the coolest thing in the world, to join the Wraiths.
“I want you to be vice president.”
Drill stared at Catfish.
Oh, God. That’s the last thing I want.
He swallowed, trying to think of some way to say no. Bad enough he still couldn’t think of how to get out of the club and still protect Maddy and Thuy. But to sign on as VP? Hell, no.
“You’re smarter than you let on,” Catfish said dismissively. “Besides, it’s you taking cues from me, and I’ve relied on you for years. It’ll be fine.”
“Can I think about it?”
Catfish’s eyes narrowed. “What’s to fucking think about?”
“I’ve just been a lieutenant, or a captain at best.” Drill shook his head. “I don’t want to be promoted higher than that.”
“You know what your problem is?” Catfish scowled, shaking his head. “You lack vision. You still think you’re just this small-town hick thug.”
“Thanks,” Drill said.
“I’m serious,” Catfish snapped. “I’ve got big plans for the Wraiths — and they don’t involve getting patched over by another club, losing turf, and getting swallowed up. We’re not going to be small-time hustlers, throwing their weight around a town like Green Valley. I think we could build up to be one of the biggest players in Tennessee. Hell, in the South.”
Catfish’s eyes burned with ambition. Drill knew his friend had drive, but now Catfish was in the driver’s seat. He was in a position to put those dreams into action.
Drill suddenly felt nervous about his friend.
“Fine. Be a pussy. ‘Think’ about it,” Catfish said. “But you’re gonna need to give me an answer soon. Otherwise, I’m going to think you’re chickening out on me for real, and we’re gonna have problems.”
Drill gritted his teeth and slowly pulled his lure in. He felt like a rabbit in a snare — one that was drawing, slowly and inevitably, tighter around his neck.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Thuy got back to the farmhouse at 9:40, after ending her shift at the library at nine. She’d eaten some leftovers on her break. She hung out with Maddy for about an hour, until Maddy fell asleep on the couch as they watched an old DVD she’d checked out — The Fifth Element, one of her favorite cheesy sci-fi classics. When Maddy went off to bed, she found herself restless.
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