Lawless

by T. M. Frazier

  This seemed to go on for hours.

  We wailed on each other ferociously, mercilessly. Rolling around on the soft wet ground, I tried to spit the mud out as soon as it entered my mouth so I could catch my breath.

  King straightened his arm and punched the heel of his hand against my face, sending my head sailing backward. A rippling pain shot down the bridge of my nose and vibrated against my cheekbones. Blood dripped from my nostrils into the seam of my lips, sending copper flavored warmth into my mouth.

  It was the third time my nose had been broken.

  A loud shriek tore through the air. King and I both whipped our heads around toward the direction of the sound to see Preppy, who was looking down at his crisp white shirt in absolute horror. His already pale face seemed to get even more pale. “What the fuck?” he screamed, jumping down from the log. He pulled one suspender down to his elbow, revealing the small spec of mud splattered directly above his chest pocket.

  I barely registered that King and I had stopped fighting. His hands were still firmly around my neck, my knee was tightly pressed into his stomach. Preppy slowly looked up from the spot on his shirt and back to us. His cheeks reddened, his fists clenched at his sides. Before I could register what the fuck was wrong with the kid he’d launched himself into the air with a yell that could rival the fucking Braveheart call to arms, and landed himself right between King and me, knocking the wind out of my lungs, sending King falling backward into the mud. Preppy then proceeded to come at the both of us with all he had, but since the kid was built of elbows and knees…

  It wasn’t much.

  “You motherfuckers!” he screamed, his pubescent voice cracked over the vowels as he tried his damnedest to inflict pain on us for dirtying up his clothes.

  King and I burst into laughter and after Preppy had given all the fight he had to give he collapsed onto his back and laughed with us. The three of us spent the rest of the day getting high on top of the water tower. That was the night Preppy drew the giant dick on the water tower.

  I learned that day that Preppy had been responsible for all the dicks that had been spray painted on stop signs and light poles throughout the town. “I use special paint, too. Shit’s never gonna come off. When I’m long gone my beautiful big black cocks will still be everywhere in this shit town.”

  “Oh you like big black cocks?” I asked, nudging him in his bony ribs with my elbow.

  “Only my own,” Preppy said, grabbing his dick through his khakis.

  King rolled his eyes. “You’re not fucking black, asshole.”

  “I am from the waist down, motherfucker, have you seen the size of my fucking cock?” Preppy reached for his belt.

  “Preppy, if you pull your fucking cock out again I’m throwing you off the water tower,” King warned.

  “It’s your loss.” He shrugged, taking his hand off his belt. He sat back down between me and King and leaned over the railing looking down at the scattered lights below. “We’re gonna own this fucking town.”

  Big. Thick. Black.

  The Logan’s Beach water tower came into view. The outline of the spray painted dick around the letter L was still visible, even though the city had attempted to cover it up several times with cheap thin paint. The smell of the salty air mixed with sunscreen and fish permeated the air through the open window and with the smell of home came the memory…I hoped to fuck the city never invested in decent paint, because I’d climb the motherfucker in the middle of the night and recreate Preppy’s dick pics all over again.

  When I pulled down the long dirt driveway that led up to King’s house, an odd feeling swept over me. It used to feel like home.

  Now it was the last place I wanted to be.

  A sense of dread lingered inside my chest, growing larger with each roll of the tires propelling me forward.

  Get rid of the girl and get the fuck out as soon as possible.

  The three-story stilt home to my right was the main house, but that’s not where I was going. Passing the fire pit in the backyard made me want to throw up, but I shook that image from my head and instead chose to remember the time Preppy was so high he convinced everyone he could walk over the burning coals.

  We were all on board. His feet though?

  Second-degree burns.

  King stood outside his newly rebuilt garage with his arms crossed over his chest. He was a man of few words and never spoke before he thought it out, which was the opposite of his girl, who was always spouting out the first thing that came to mind. King was always a big motherfucker, but when he was released from prison last year he’d come out even bigger, like he’d skipped being someone’s bitch in exchange for doing non-stop sit ups. His hair was short and dark and he had an even darker look in his eyes.

  He looked the same as he always had, but there was something about him that seemed …different, although I couldn’t figure out what it was.

  King lifted the cover off of a key panel on the side of the garage that wasn’t there before I’d left, and punched in a code. The right side of his neck was covered with gauze. The garage door opened automatically, disappearing overhead. King waved me inside and I drove into the darkened space. As my eyes adjusted I was careful not to hit any of the classic bikes and cars in different stages of repair that I knew were hidden under the multitude of dusty tarps.

  I killed the engine and hopped out.

  “Do you own anything besides black t-shirts and dark jeans?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood and avoid any heavy conversation he might feel like having.

  “This coming from the guy who doesn’t own a fucking shirt.”

  “That’s what’s been bugging me.” I said, pulling the black tank top over my head and tossing it back into the truck. “Much fucking better.”

  King rolled his eyes but I could see the hint of a smile. Not on his lips but in his everything. He was a hard man to read but I’d figured his ass out. Just took me almost fifteen years.

  “Garage looks better than last time I saw it,” I said, following King to the back. The actual main garage area was twice as big as it was before Eli crumbled it to the ground. “You get in a fight with a vampire?” I asked, pointing to the gauze on his neck.

  “New tat,” he said, opening a door that was in the same place my former crash pad used to be.

  “Who did it?” I asked. King had done all of mine and they ranged from chicken scratch looking bullshit from when he first started, to my right sleeve which was not a picture, but a portrait of the causeway during sunset, a bike on the top of the bridge.

  “Ray,” he said and that time he did smile.

  “Holy shit you let your bitch tat you?” I asked reaching for the gauze.

  “Fuck off. You call her a bitch again I’m drowning you in the fucking bay.”

  We entered an apartment but it didn’t look like the makeshift area I’d used before as my apartment. This was a legit living space. The Beach Bastards decor I had pinned to the walls were gone and those walls were now bare. The smell of fresh paint lingered in the air.

  A newer looking couch and TV made up the living room area. A small kitchenette sat to my left. And unlike the studio I had before, this area had an additional door which I realized probably lead to an actual bedroom when it opened and Doe came out.

  A small smile crept onto her face. “Bear,” she said, her eyes sparkling, her white blonde hair a lot longer than I remembered.

  “Doe,” I said, unsure of how to greet her anymore. It felt awkward. She was the only girl who I ever thought I could make mine. It wasn’t that I was in love with her, it was that she was the only girl I’d even considered spending more time with than the time it took to come. For me? That was a lot.

  Doe looked like Doe but also different. Where King’s change was something I couldn’t put my finger on, Doe’s was much easier to spot. She wore bright colored shorts and a black tank and flip flops, her signature style, but this top was looser around the middle than what I was used to seeing he
r wear and flowed as she walked toward me. When she wrapped around my neck to bring me in for a hug I couldn’t help but look down at her ample cleavage. Cleavage that certainly wasn’t there before.

  “She goes by Ray,” King said. I was such a fucking idiot. I’d heard King say Ray but it hadn’t registered.

  “Ray,” I corrected. I wasn’t as perceptive as King when he caught me staring at her.

  “Stop staring at her fucking tits,” King growled. Ray let out a small laugh.

  I held her for a beat longer after she tried to pull away and she swatted my shoulder playfully and laughed again before I finally let her go. I missed her voice. Her laugh. It was even nice to have King growling next to me again.

  It was all so… normal.

  “You get your tits done, beautiful?” I asked mostly to piss off King, I knew they weren’t fake because of how they felt smashed up against my chest when she’d hugged me. “Cause I’ll tell ya they were always pretty fucking fantastic.”

  “Bear,” King warned and I wondered how far I could push it until he drew his gun.

  “Oh come on, Bear, you seriously don’t know why?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.

  King tugged on her arm, pulling her against his chest.

  My chest tightened.

  I looked Ray over again, and she was right, they were soft and yet looked like they were about to explode out the top of her shirt. The rest of her was curvier too, her thighs a bit thicker. Even her face had filled out. And yes, her ass had gotten bigger but hot damn was that a good thing.

  Fifteen or so pounds didn’t look good on her. It looked great on her.

  “You seriously don’t remember?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest which made them pop out of her top even more. King reached out and uncrossed them, and that’s when I noticed it through the fabric of her shirt. A slightly rounded belly. Like she’d recently… “Fuck, I’m a dumb shit,” I admitted, finally realizing what I’d forgotten. “Congrats, guys, I mean it,” I said, pulling Ray in for another hug that was rewarded with yet another growl from King.

  Now my chest hurt for an entirely new reason. My friends, closer to me than any family, had a baby while I was away and I hadn’t even remembered Ray was pregnant.

  A shrill scream came from the other room and then stopped just as fast as it had started.

  “She’s been doing that every few minutes since Gus brought her here,” Ray said, pulling away from King. “Sally, who runs one of the Granny Growhouses. She’s a retired nurse. She just left a few minutes ago. She cleaned and bandaged her up best she could where the girl would let her, but every time she tried to take off her shorts to inspect the damage the girl kicks and screams. Whatever happened, I think it was brutal to say the least.”

  Kings eyes darted to mine and I knew what he was thinking. He was the only one who knew what Eli and his group of cunts did to me and he was searching my face for any sort of reaction. I wasn’t a chump. I wasn’t some chick whose virginity was stolen. It was torture. Plain and simple. Did we kill every last one of those motherfuckers?

  Yes, we did.

  “Great of you guys to take her in, but you ever think she might be on their payroll? That she’s not a victim but out to get info?”

  “Crossed my mind. Don’t say shit around her just in case. But I’ll tell you something. If her beat down was all for show, it’s a pretty impressive act,” King said.

  “You should go in and check on her. If she starts to shake or anything, Sally said to put her in the warm shower,” Ray said.

  “Fuck!” I said, running my hands through my hair. “Shock? What if this is real? What the fuck did they do to her?”

  “Ray’s been with her all night and she’s been either sleeping or screaming, but hasn’t said anything about what happened,” King said.

  “She’s just a fucking kid!” I yelled. “You don’t think that he would…” But I answered my own question. “He would. He totally would. And not just him either…” I trailed off. I walked over to the couch and sat down feeling my stomach turn over and over again when I thought of Chop raping a little girl and then letting the sick fucks, and there were several in the club, have at her.

  “How did she get your ring?” King asked.

  “I was a dumb kid and I gave it to a little girl because she didn’t call the cops when Skid held her at gunpoint at a gas station. I never expected to see her again. I told her a story. A lie. Told her if she ever needed anything to come find me and give me the ring and I had to do whatever she asked of me. Thought she’d forget all about it.”

  “You should go in and see her,” Ray said. “If she really did come to you to seek some sort of help from you, seeing you, knowing that you’re here, might do her some good.”

  “Why?” I asked. “She doesn’t know me. I haven’t seen her since I gave her the ring years ago.” I sprang off the couch. “Chop wanted to send me a message by beating on and possibly raping a little girl. What I’m going to do is sneak back into the clubhouse and slit my old man’s throat and then hit the road again. This shit shouldn’t be at your doorstep. I won’t let it happen again. I’ll put her in the van and drop her at the hospital. We’ll both be gone by morning.”

  “Don’t you think that if you take her to the hospital you run the risk of ruining whatever it was she needed your help for?” Ray asked.

  “Never thought I’d hear you suggest a hospital,” King said.

  “It was a lie! A joke. I was a dumb fucking kid!” I dropped my head in my hands.

  And now you’re a dumb fuck pushing thirty, Ghost Preppy chimed in.

  “Go in there and you tell me if the girl in there looks like a fucking joke.”

  “I’ll take care of it. I’m not a Bastard anymore. I’m not worried about hospitals or getting caught. Besides, if she’s a fucking rat what the fuck does it matter? I’ll drop her and be on my way.”

  “Where?” Ray asked.

  “Wherever that’s not here,” I said.

  “That hurts you know,” Ray said, disentangling herself from King.

  “You can’t run forever man,” King said.

  “I’m not running from those fuckers!” I yelled. Ray’s eyes darted to the closed door, I lowered my voice again.

  No, but you’re running from yourself.

  “I have to go check on the baby,” Ray said, stepping toward the door. She picked up a radio looking thing off the table on her way out. “Baby monitor,” she said, holding it up with a tight smile on her face. The last thing I wanted was to hurt her, but I didn’t know how to fix it. I just needed to leave. To be on my own. To figure out my fucking life.

  Why didn’t they get that?

  “What’s the baby’s name?” I called out to her, but it was too late. Ray was already gone.

  King lifted the gauze from the side of his neck revealing an intricate new tat in grey and black lettering that read NICOLE GRACE.

  “You named your kid after the whore who shot at your girl?” I asked.

  “There was more to that and you know it. Besides, Nicole Grace is a lot better than what Sammy and Max wanted to name her.”

  “And what was that?

  “Baby Pancakes,” King said, rolling his eyes and smiling.

  “Maybe a little better. But holy shit on the tat man. Ray did that? That’s good fucking work.”

  King ripped the rest of the gauze off and chucked it into a nearby trash bin. “And yeah, it is. She gets better every day. You should see some of the shit she sketches.”

  “What’s HER name?” King asked, jerking his chin at the closed door.

  “Thia,” I said. “Her mom calls her Cindy, but she hates it,” I said, remembering her words to me from all those years ago. “If this is a ploy by Chop, and she’s in on it, you best believe that I don’t give a shit how old she is. I’m sending her back to the MC in a fucking body bag.”

  “Agreed,” King said. “But how long has it been since you’ve seen her?”
r />   “Six years, maybe seven?” I answered scratching the hair under my nose. “Why?”

  “Cause that girl in there? She’s young. But she’s no fucking kid.” As the last word left his mouth, another shrill scream pierced through the air.

  “I’ll go get Ray,” King said.

  “No, let her be with the baby, I’ll go in. Better I figure out what the fuck is going on sooner rather than later.”

  King nodded but then he stopped, again searching my face for something I already knew wasn’t there. “You sure you’re good man?”

  “Yeah man, I’m sure. Go. Get some sleep,” I said, waving him off.

  King went to leave but turned back around. “Sit on the ‘going to slit your old man’s throat’ plan for the night. We’ll talk it out in the morning. Whatever you need. I’m in.”

  That’s when I realized what was different about King. The