by W. Winters
I just want it to stay in the corner by the lamp where she read the newspaper and gossiped on the phone to Esme, another waitress from the diner.
Breathing out a tired sigh, I push off from the door and stare down at the bills in my hand. Grandma had plenty of them. And they keep coming.
I should sell this place, pay off the debts, and move in with Seth. At least that’s what he says. But that’s a little too much like moving on from the only person who was a constant in my life and putting all my faith in a man. A man who won’t even tell me he loves me. Even if I love him, he scares me. All of this scares me.
The sound of the door creaking open startles me and I reward the newcomer with wide eyes and taking the Lord’s name in vain.
It’s only Cami.
“Shit,” she says and cringes when she sees my hand over my chest. “Didn’t mean to freak you out.” She ducks her head a little with a grin as she shuts the door and says beneath her breath, “My bad.”
“You could have knocked,” I tell her and toss the stack of envelopes onto the side table at the entrance. It’s butted up against the stairs that lead to the second floor. The hard maple side table has been there for years. When I was a kid, I thought about jumping off the balcony on the second floor and landing on the table. A neighborhood friend was chasing me when we were playing tag. I was a reckless and stupid girl. Hell, I’m still lacking in that department.
“Since when do I knock?” Cami walks right past me down the narrow hall and I follow her then stop when she gets to the kitchen. Leaning against the threshold and crossing my arms, I watch her open the fridge and take out a can of cola.
“You kinda look like hell,” Cami comments with a wrinkled nose and then adds, “and you need to go grocery shopping.”
“And to think… you’re the bright light in my world,” I say to mock my closest friend and her constant peppy tone.
She laughs as she cracks open the can, drinking soda at 9:00 in the morning. Her long blonde hair is a mess; it’s obvious she hasn’t brushed it yet, and she’s still in her pajamas.
“You’re looking rough yourself.”
“Long night,” she says cryptically and takes another sip, but she can’t disguise the devilish smile she’s hiding.
Her grin is infectious, and I join her at the small oak table in the kitchen.
“Shut up,” I say then gasp as my eyes go wide. “Derrick?” I question her, feeling all those ooey gooey and excited emotions racing inside of me.
“Mm-hmm.” She can’t even speak as she nods her head. Beaming, her full lips are upturned as her cheeks turn red.
“Did you guys…?”
She shakes her head quickly and shoves the can of soda a few inches in front of her, looking at it and then me. “Not yet. I just don’t want it to be a one-time thing, you know?” She talks quickly when she’s nervous. Not even taking a breath, she continues. “He came over and we watched a movie. It was awful.” She looks past me and shakes her head. “Like truly awful. I don’t know why I let him pick.” She breathes in for the first time, deep and easing the tension through her shoulders as she adds, “But it doesn’t matter, because he pulled me in all close.” She gets up and goes around the table. “Like this, you know,” she tells me as she wraps her arm around my shoulders and makes me laugh.
“And then…” I draw out the last word, waiting for her to tell me the good stuff.
She shrugs, strutting back to her seat and taking a drink while she makes me wait.
“You’re insufferable.”
“And you love me.”
I pull my lips into a grimace for half a second but then add, “I do love you.”
“I love you too… and I loved it when he kissed me.” She can’t contain her giddiness as she practically dances in her seat. “Not even just once, but five times.”
“Any makeout sessions?” I question and she nods as she replies, “Yup.” The P pops as she says it. “Twice.”
“So the yearlong crush is finally becoming something,” I say then smile as I get up and search for coffee. I listen to Cami regale me with the details of last night, putting the grounds in the top and pushing the button to start the coffee maker.
“Slow and steady,” Cami says, then downs the last of her soda and gets up to grab another one. “Not like you two,” she adds.
The coffee machine hisses, and I couldn’t agree more.
“Different strokes and all that,” I half-heartedly reply. We did go too fast. It’s hard to come back from all of that. We were both tumbling downhill, and there’s no going slow when your life is free-falling. Better to fall fast together than apart.
“Any update on that matter?” she asks.
“Well since you’re making out with his best friend…” I trail off and exhale heavily while I stir sugar into my coffee and the spoon clinks against the ceramic mug. “...you should know,” I conclude before looking her in the eye.
Sitting back in her seat at the table, she asks me, “Seriously. You going to be okay?” Both of her hands are wrapped around the Coke can as she leans forward.
“You’re so intense sometimes.” I try to shake it off like Seth does, but Cami sees through me.
“Have you told him?” she asks.
I run my nail along one of the gouges in the wooden table as she talks. This table’s been through a lot, but it’s another thing I’ll never get rid of. Grandma said it belonged to her mom. So, really, it’s the only heirloom I’ve got. I’ve sat here and celebrated; cried and mourned. I sat here as I studied… even if I didn’t do so well in school. The first kiss I ever had was in the kitchen threshold and shortly after that, Seth took me on this table.
Yeah, I’m never getting rid of this table.
“It’s okay if you didn’t.”
I confess, “He knows.”
“And?”
“And he was all… you know, as good as he could be about it.” It hurts. Everything hurts, so I drink my coffee like it’ll wash all these bad feelings down.
“It’s a lot to go through at once.”
“His solution is for me to move in with him, and he’ll just take care of everything,” I say as I toss my hand in the air and then stare down at my coffee through glossy eyes.
I won’t tell her how he still didn’t say it. He still didn’t say that he loves me. It’s so stupid, but with everything going on, it means so much to me that Cami’s the only one in my life who will say it. She may be the only one to ever tell me those words again.
“Don’t cry.” Cami’s voice is consoling. “You’re going through a lot,” she repeats.
“I’m not crying,” I tell her a little too sternly and calm myself down, shaking out my hands. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. And that’s okay.” Ever positive and nurturing. I love her, but she doesn’t get it. We may both be in our early twenties, but she hasn’t gone through an ounce of what I’ve seen in the last three years. Let alone my childhood.
“What am I going to do?” I ask her, not knowing myself.
“You think too much,” she tells me after a long moment of silence.
“You don’t think enough.”
“That’s not the first time you’ve said that,” she jokes, and I let a puff of laughter leave me.
“First things first. You’re going to study while I go through the bills. We have more than enough to pay the minimum on all of them…” She pauses as she hesitates but adds what I already know she’s going to say, “I still think you should tell Seth. He would pay them off.”
“And I’d be in debt to him and he’d have more of a reason for me to sell it all and give it all away.”
She stares at me for a moment, not saying what’s on her mind. Straightening in her seat, she drinks the rest of her second can of soda, making me even more jealous of how skinny she is. “You study, we pay the bills, and then we meet up with our men who are oh so bad for us and have a damn good time.” She ends with a smile and the one I
give her back is genuine.
“Yeah,” I answer her, taking a sip of the much-needed coffee. “You’re right. That’s a good plan.”
She gets up to toss her can in the recycling bin, but she stops where she is and turns to me with a serious expression. “I’m happy you told him.”
I swallow the bitter coffee, not knowing what to say. Happy and that moment don’t belong together.
Seth
“What’s up with this girly shit?” Derrick’s voice bellows from behind me. He’s not even through the front doors of this place and he’s already being a prick.
I give it a moment, letting my eyes settle on his pale pink button-up paired with dark jeans. “You talking about that shirt you’re wearing?”
It looks ridiculous. Derrick is jacked. He works out constantly and he was already built to be a big man.
He grunts a laugh and says, “The girl I’m seeing likes it. Fuck off.” My chuckle is deep and short lived.
“Must really like this one,” I comment. I’ve never known him to settle down or even remember the names of the different chicks he’s with every week. Not until now. Times are changing, though. For all of us.
Standing in the middle of all this construction, of what will soon be my club, change is all I can think about.
“Girlfriend material?” I ask him.
“Something like that,” he says, keeping his answer cryptic. Landing a hand on my shoulder, Derrick gives me a squeeze and adds, “Finally coming together, brother.”
“That it is.”
He squeezes again, commenting that the couch in the corner is too fucking girly for our club, as if he has any taste at all, and heads past me to the bar. It’s not stocked yet, but the guys keep a stash on hand in the fridge. Drills are going, the TVs are being mounted, and the furniture is set in place now that the floors are down. The crew we hired is fast and on point.
Laura picked out the furniture, well most of it, including the sofa Derrick’s not a fan of. It’ll all come together. She shares my vision, and the guys will get on board.
Cracking open a bottle and tossing the cap into the bin with a clink, Derrick’s voice echoes as he asks, “Where are the fights going to be?”
Selling guns is how we got this far, old business that was set in stone when we took over, but the fighting and betting? That’s a steady flow of cash I didn’t know was possible. A bar to push the dirty money through is the cherry on top.
“It’s called underground for a reason,” I answer him and steal his beer before he takes his first swig.
“Fucker,” he comments when I tell him thanks.
“Grab yours and follow me,” I tell him just as Connor comes in. He’s got his sleeve rolled up and I can see the shamrock tat on the inside of his forearm. He’s Irish through and through. He even gave me shit about having Mexican beer in the bar. What Irish pub carries Dos Equis? Ours does, because it’s damn good beer.
I’ve got five guys in my crew. We started this shit together; we’ll always be together. Growing up in this town, we saw how things were run. It took one too many blows but now it’s ours. Simple as that. Connor’s got a scar on the left side of his jaw to prove it. He’s the shortest of us, the leanest too, but he’s the one I’d pick in a knife fight. Ten out of ten times. The Irish in him, that crazy bastard side, gives him the edge he needs.
Together, the five of us own this town. And this bar is going to be the crowning jewel of our empire.
Connor takes a look around and I watch him, waiting for his reaction. He moves the pack of beer in his right hand to his left and then back again.
“What do you think?” I ask.
“Legit cash flow in the bar, fight club downstairs. It’s perfect.”
“You like that girly-ass sofa? A fucking sofa in a bar?” Derrick says and regards Connor, who looks in his eyes and then at his shirt.
“What the hell are you wearing?” Connor asks.
“Screw both of you,” Derrick says and shoves his beer into Connor’s chest then starts unbuttoning his shirt. He tosses it on the back of a sleek steel barstool, its seat lined with cobalt velvet.
Wearing just his white t-shirt on top, he leaves the button-up where it is and snags back his beer.
“Don’t feel peer pressured now,” I quip and make my way to the back left of the large open space, past the bathrooms that are being renovated and I head down a narrow hall. The sound of construction dims until it’s nonexistent as we hustle down the steel stairs. It’s nothing but luxury on the first floor, or at least it will be, but down here, it’s raw and primitive.
With a flick of the switch, the lights come on; thin rails of white light form stripes along the ceiling. They go from wall to wall so nothing will be missed. Spotlights will be installed next. Everything’s on schedule.
“Ring in the center. Stage at the back for security to watch over everything. We’ll be here at the head, calling the shots.” I can see it all play out. It’s only cement floors and drywall with spackle at the moment, but I can already hear the bell going off, the cheering, the crunch of bone.
“Vale Tudo,” Connor says as he makes his way around the back of the basement. It’s nearly a two-hundred-foot square.
“What the hell does that mean?” Derrick asks; he has to speak up as Connor’s halfway down the room and Derrick’s coming up beside me. He’s my right-hand man. My best friend. I wouldn’t be here without him. He wouldn’t be here either. And we both know it.
“Anything goes… It’s Portuguese fighting.”
My answer comes without a second thought, “Oh, fuck that.”
“Eye gouging and nut kicking… No, sir,” Derrick comments.
Connor laughs and bellows from the back of the room, “Pussies.”
“Seriously, though,” Derrick says and holds up his beer as if he’s toasting, “it’s going to be killer.” Derrick looks around even though I hadn’t broken eye contact with him and I take him in. It’s been a long damn time since he’s been like this. Carefree and relaxed.
“Things are finally looking up,” he comments as he looks around the room and Connor makes his way to us.
“You need a beer,” he tells me, taking out a beer for me and then cracking one open for himself. It fizzes and he curses as he sucks the head from the top of the beer to keep it from spilling.
Derrick laughs at him and I take a moment to open mine carefully so I don’t suffer the same fate.
“This is it, boys. We have the legit business from the bar, but this gets us in deeper, so we know what’s going on and we have the cash to stay in the thick of it.”
“That it is,” Derrick says and then asks me, “Speaking of the thick of it. You hear from Wright?”
“That’s why I wanted you two here, away from the construction crew upstairs.”
“Figured as much,” Connor comments.
My shoulders feel tighter as I lift the beer to my mouth but stop short of taking a sip. “He said Mathews is storing everything at the docks.”
“All of it’s there?” Derrick asks just beneath his breath.
“All but the cash. That he keeps in a safe in his house.”
“We don’t need to go for the cash, right?” Connor clarifies.
“Right. Just his drugs. He’s growing too quickly, taking up too much territory and getting too close for comfort.”
“Time for him to take a hit,” Derrick says.
“And then another,” I add.
“Where in the docks?” Connor questions.
“Roman staked it out last night. He knows right where it is. He said two men stayed there all night. A pair of dogs too.”
“Fuck, not dogs,” Derrick groans and grimaces. He got his leg torn up pretty good by a dog a few years back.
“It’ll be taken care of. Don’t worry,” I reassure him. “In and out. We grab the haul and go.”
“You think he’ll know it was us?”
“Nah, we’re throwing it out. We don’t need his
shit supply. It’s laced up and cut so much it’s hardly worth a dime. He’s going to be looking for someone selling.”
“Good,” Connor says.
“When are we going?”
I look at Derrick to answer his question. “Tonight. Let the girls come here and we’ll have Roman keep an eye on them. We’ll go out and take care of it. Come back when we’re done and no one will be the wiser.”
All three of us grew up in this life. All three of our fathers died going against the men who took over. Men who didn’t belong here and didn’t give a damn about the people who live here. It was only a matter of time before we took this place back.
Revenge was sweet, but cleaning out this place the last two years has been hard as hell. People like Mathews need to stay back and this is how that happens. They inch closer, we steal their shit, wreck their warehouses, kill their men. We make it unprofitable and violent. We do whatever we have to in order to never go back to what used to be.
“No one owns Tremont but us,” Derrick declares.
“Damn right,” I tell him and clink my beer with his.
Connor lifts his beer and Derrick and I follow suit as he starts our toast. “Here’s to the money, the dirty and the clean.”
Derrick goes next. “Here’s to the women, the ones who please us and the ones who make us scream.”
I finish it out. “And here’s to chaos, may we make that bitch our queen.”
Laura
“Three hundred is left over,” Cami tells me and points to the spreadsheet on her computer. Her chipped pink nails are a sign of the stress I know she’s feeling right now. She put it all together, accounting for every cent of the money coming and going.
With my shoulders relaxed, I play off every bit of anxiousness that’s been pulling me down, hoping to give her a little lift up. She doesn’t need to carry my burdens. Damn do I love her for doing it though.
“So that’s three hundred for the next two weeks to live off of after all the bills. That seems good, right?”
“After gas and food… that’s tight, but it’s workable,” she confirms.