by A. J. Downey
“Honestly, none. Just what’s in the apartment and what’s in my storage cage down below it. There was a bunch of shit left behind in the garage at the new house. It would be nice to get that cleared out, so I have a place to secure the bike before making the move. Think I can borrow you and your truck next time I’m off to deal with that?” I asked Blaze.
“Sure!”
“Might need to have a look at the garage’s roof, it’s sagging in a couple places. Might need to redo it – I don’t know how much that would take though.”
“I can run by and have a look at it once you get it cleared out, any idea when you’ll get the keys?”
“The place was unoccupied, I actually pick up the keys tomorrow.”
“Nice!” Youngblood took a drink out of the bottle he’d been nursing.
“You’re really doing it.” Golden gave me a crooked smile and with a wink said, “I’m proud of you, kid.”
I chuckled. “Thanks. Saylor found some kind of weird paint with glitter in it and is begging to do one wall in it. I’m not sure what to do with that.”
“Pick a room and paint the damn wall in glitter,” Reflash said dryly and the guys laughed with me.
We sat around shooting the shit and making plans in between, and it was good to know they had my back. No one was trying to talk me out of shit, and no one damn sure had anything negative to say about Saylor and I knew her, I knew she would never give them a reason to.
All was right in my world.
“Right, so we’ll call this good and get out there and enjoy some time with the girls before we gotta call this a night, what do you say, boys? Adjourned?”
“Adjourned!” we all enthusiastically agreed.
I got up along with a lot of the other guys to go out to see our women. Blaze got up with me and followed me out to thread through the tables in the bar area out on to the street to collect Saylor and her new lute.
There was nobody out on the sidewalk when we emerged, so she simply cut playing and smiled at us saying, “Hey, you guys. Done already?”
“What do you mean ‘already?’” Blaze asked. “I thought that shit was never gonna end.”
Saylor laughed lightly and pulled her lute off over her head, coming around to the front of her case and laying it reverently inside.
“No luck out here tonight, huh?” I asked, noting how empty the case was.
“Nope, not tonight. That’s just the way the cookie crumbles.” She gave a gusty sigh that plumed the frozen air.
“I hear you guys get to pick up the keys tomorrow,” Blaze said.
“Mm-hmm, I’m excited.”
“I’m off, why don’t we ding out the garage then?” he asked.
“Yeah?” I asked.
“Yeah. Let’s get it done.”
“Alright!” Saylor enthusiastically agreed.
“You ready to head home?” I asked.
“Ready when you are,” she stated and picked up her case, rising gracefully to her feet and stretching her back.
“Aw, man, I was hoping for at least one round of pool or darts or something, but yeah. Best get her out of the cold. I’ll be by in my truck say around nine o’clock?” Blaze asked.
“Nine it is,” I agreed.
“Cool, cool.”
“You know, we can stay for one more drink if you want,” Saylor said and I smiled.
“Nah, I want to get you home and warmed through,” I said as she shivered on the sidewalk.
“Okay.” She smiled, easy going either way.
“Dress warm for tomorrow,” Blaze said. “We’ll get your keys and get shit handled.”
“Get it done,” I agreed and clasped hands with my best friend. We knocked shoulders and Blaze grinned.
“See you tomorrow, Saylor.”
“See you tomorrow!” she quipped back cheerfully.
I took her back to our apartment, selfishly, greedy for just her company and to have her body writhing under me.
When we got through the door, she apparently had the same idea and I don’t think I had ever been happier in my life.
22
Saylor…
Blaze came over early, like nine o’clock as promised, and gave us both a ride in his pickup to the realtor’s office for our appointment to pick up our keys. That done, it was an immediate ride with barely suppressed excitement to our new house.
The three of us worked all day and took three loads of trash out of the garage to take to the nearest dump. It was a lot, but it was worth it. It was a little daunting with how much the roof sagged over our heads as we worked, and once the debris was cleared, and the few treasures we’d found were carefully set aside, we all stood staring at the deepening night sky through the hole in the roof.
Blaze and Poe were taking pictures with their phones.
“What do you think? A whole new roof?” Poe asked.
“Yeah, but it looks like all the support beams are okay. We’re talking just plywood, tar paper, shingles… the house’s roof looks good, so I think it’s just going to be out here.”
“How long you think it’ll take?”
“What, like is this a weeklong or a weekend project?”
“Exactly.”
“Backdraft will have to weigh in with a final answer but I’m cautiously optimistic and will say ‘weekend’ for now. Roofs aren’t my usual thing. I’m more interior finishing work.”
Both of their phones went off at once and they traded a look and looked at their screens.
“What?” I asked. When they both frowned heavily, I reiterated the question. “What is it?”
“Trouble,” Poe said.
“Glad you brought your guitar. We have to head to the 10-13 like right now.” Blaze and Poe started moving.
“What’s wrong?” I asked again.
“Officer involved shooting,” Poe said and I gasped.
“Oh my God! Who? Are they alright?”
“Driller, and I think he’s okay. No word on the specifics yet, that’s why we need to go in.”
I helped them lock up, rushing around and securing the house doors and windows while Blaze secured the tailgate on his truck against the last load of trash which I guess was going with us.
“Come on, baby, up you go.” Poe helped me into the back seat of the truck where my granddad’s guitar waited. I didn’t know why, I just had wanted it with me today instead of my lute. Even though I didn’t intend on playing anywhere, I was glad I had it with me now. Sounded like we were going to be at the 10-13 for a while.
“You guys okay?” I ventured, as we carefully but as quickly as possible navigated icy side streets.
Blaze did his best to keep his truck from meandering sideways through a turn and said through a clenched jaw and gritted teeth, “Ask me again after the emergency church meeting.”
“You got it,” I uttered quietly, and Poe reached back to squeeze my hand. I squeezed back and smiled at him, but the worry wouldn’t leave his eyes and for that I could not blame him. I was worried, too. I liked Driller, Narcos, and Everleigh.
We got lucky and found parking right up the block from the 10-13, and even though it was dicey parallel parking on an icy street over the berm of dirty snow left by plow trucks, Blaze had the know-how and the four-wheel drive to make it happen.
“Country boy in the city has some uses, huh?” Poe asked.
“Damn straight,” Blaze agreed.
We got out of the truck, Poe taking my granddad’s guitar and passing it off to Blaze to help me down even though he didn’t need to. I loved that about him, though. That he was always a gentleman.
“Thanks,” I murmured, and Blaze held out my guitar to me and said ‘Welcome’ with a wink. I rolled my eyes and tucked myself into Poe’s side as we walked the dreaded walk to the waiting doors of the 10-13 to find out what had become of our friend.
23
Poe…
“Thanks, man,” I said as Reflash held open the door to the 10-13 for the three of us to step throug
h.
“Is Driller okay?” Saylor asked of him before even a greeting could cross her lips and I loved her for that.
“Physically? Yeah. Yeah, he’ll be alright. His vest took it and he’s bruised but it ain’t a bullet he’s gotta worry about with this one.”
“Okay, babe. Looks like you’re the only ol’ lady here. Get yourself a hot drink and I’ll see you when I can.” I kissed her forehead and she nodded.
“I love you,” she said impulsively, and it made me smile. Usually, she saves the ‘I love yous’ for when it was just her and me, alone together. It meant a lot, her calling it out like that in front of Reflash and Blaze.
“I love you, too. Be back as soon as I can.” Her hand lingered in mine and she smiled at me, letting her fingers slip and dropping her arm to her side as I trailed after Reflash, Blaze bringing up the rear. Looked like we were the last to arrive.
When we got into the fishbowl, Skids was looking dour. Not surprisingly, we were missing Driller and Narcos.
“Somebody catch us up, all we know is what we got in the text to be here,” I said.
“It’s not good. Media is turning it into a shitstorm. White cop shoots unarmed black teen.”
“Unarmed? I thought Driller caught one in the vest?” Blaze and I took our seats, but he took the words right out of my mouth.
“He did,” Youngblood said. “Guy that shot him took off; he managed to get up and pursue.”
“How the hell did he pull that off?” I demanded.
“He’s one tough son of a bitch,” Golden grunted.
Catching one to the vest was a lot like taking a charge from a rhino. It wasn’t easy to get your wind back let alone pursue. His adrenaline must have been running buck wild.
“They’re talking charges,” Yale declared. “I’ve already recused myself.”
“Charges!? What? Why?” Oz looked pissed.
“The kid he shot wasn’t the suspect. I shouldn’t even be talking to you about this –”
“Wait, he literally did shoot an unarmed kid?” Backdraft’s mouth dropped open.
“Looks like it, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t think it was the kid. It’s complicated,” Skids declared, sighing out.
“The optics are a shitshow,” Reflash declared.
“Hence, why I called you all in here.” Skids didn’t look happy.
“We’re standing by him,” Golden snapped.
“Now, I didn’t say that we weren’t.” Skids raised his hands to ward off whatever G. was going to say next.
“Sure as fuck sounded like you were.” Oz scowled at him.
“This is a lot different from what happened to you over the summer,” Reflash declared.
“I know that,” Oz said harshly.
“Look,” Youngblood said coolly. “I think this meeting was called to see how we could best support Driller through this.”
“Exactly,” Skids said, his tone both chastising and inviting no argument.
“So what do we need to do?” I asked. Like everyone else, I was eager to pitch in.
“First off, fuck the media,” Oz declared and there were grunts of agreement around the table.
“Agreed,” Skids said. “We all know if it bleeds it leads. We don’t need to feed into the sensationalized bullshit surrounding this.”
“No comment is the rule of the day,” Yale said, and his dark eyes were cold, flicking from one face to the next.
“He going to need a defense fund?” I asked and the table went quiet and grim.
“Probably.” Yale nodded.
“Should we start lookin’ for a lawyer?” Golden asked and Angel, who was sitting across from his brother, looked grim.
“Can Chrissy take it?” Youngblood asked.
“No, too big of a conflict of interest. She can’t take on something like this if she wants to stay employed in the prosecutor’s office.”
“How sure are we that this is even going to go to trial?” Oz demanded. “I mean, it just happened so –”
“With the current narrative nationwide, the prosecutor’s office of Indigo City is not trying to seem either corrupt or weak. The fact of the matter is, the boy Driller shot was unarmed and was not the boy that shot Driller.”
“Driller is not a racist ass motherfucker,” Oz declared.
“No, he is not,” Skids said with a sigh.
“He’s really in a lot of trouble, isn’t he?” Blaze asked, dismayed.
“We won’t know for a bit, but yeah… I think worst-case scenario is in play here.” Yale shook his head with a sigh.
“Hey!”
Something crashed out in the bar and we all turned our heads.
“God fucking damn it,” Skids growled and got up. The rest of us getting up with him. “This ain’t that kind of a place and tonight is not the night.”
I was at the back of the line so I didn’t see what was up, but gathered quickly it was a dude that’d had too much and it was time for him to fucking go.
I looked for Saylor and saw her out the front window, to the side of the front door, singing and playing her heart out.
The guy who’d started the ruckus had backed into Coco who was trying to mop up her tray of drinks and broken glass as the dude kept trying to drunkenly help and apologize.
“That’s enough, my dude. You’ve got to go!” Golden barked at him and the guy stood up, looking at my brother blearily with his hands up.
“Awright! You ain’t gotta be such a dick about it.” He shuffled off in the direction of the front door mumbling and we all stood by watching to see what he would do or where he would go and I swear to God, it was the biggest fucking mistake of my life.
He pushed through the door outside and wobbled slightly on his feet. I started forward when he turned to Saylor and it was like the whole world slowed down to show me my folly in high-definition.
He turned to Saylor and said something, his breath pluming the air, but she didn’t stop playing or singing, she simply smiled slightly around her vocals and the guy said something else. He lurched in her direction and I started forward. Golden was in front of me muttering, “God fucking damn it,” when the guy cocked back and let fly.
He punched her. He punched her hard and I suddenly didn’t care who I had to leap over to get to her.
She sprawled back against the glass and slid down it, and I screamed out, “Angel!”
We poured out of the bar en masse and Golden and Oz took the motherfucker on, full-on brawling with him and taking him to the ground. My eyes were on Saylor who was lying crumpled against the edge of the building, below the windows, out cold.
“Angel!” I screamed and he was striding for me and Saylor.
“Saylor, baby, come on wake up,” I muttered as Angel stopped my hands from reaching for her.
“Hang on, he caught her in the temple, I need to make sure her c-spine isn’t compromised.”
“Fuck,” I whispered.
“Somebody call a bus!” Angel shouted and I turned, Blaze nodding at me, his cell pressed to his ear.
Oz was riding the dude’s back holding him in a choke hold while Golden rubbed his jaw.
“I can’t fuckin’ breathe!” the dude wheezed.
“I don’t fuckin’ care!” Oz shot back.
“You talkin’ ain’t ‘cha? You can breathe just fine,” Golden growled.
“Guys, we need that bus, we need a hospital right now,” Angel shouted, and I was back to Saylor. “Help me get this off of her,” he demanded, and I went for the strap on her guitar. Backdraft was helping Angel, while I handed her guitar off to Coco who slid her case out of the way and saw to it that it was put away safe.
“What’s wrong?” I demanded.
“Head trauma, bad, might be brain swelling.”
“Ambulance is on its way, two minutes!” Blaze called out.
I stared helpless as Saylor lay there prone, Angel stabilizing her head, Backdraft taking her vitals and she just wouldn’t wake up.
“Ple
ase, God, let her wake up,” I muttered.
“How is she?”
I looked up from where I sat beside her hospital bed, eyes red rimmed as much from lack of sleep as from crying.
“Same, man.”
Skids came more fully into the room.
“She’ll come out of it, man. Just give it some time.”
“She went down two nights ago, Chief. I don’t know… I just don’t know.”
I broke down again, I couldn’t stop myself. I was beside myself with worry. My club’s president came over and stood sentinel, squeezing my shoulder, giving me silent strength and I was grateful for it.
“What’s the doctor say?” he asked.
“That her, uh, scans look good. That the swelling is coming down and to just be patient.”
“Then that’s all you can do, Son.”
I nodded, but it was the last thing I wanted to hear. What I wanted to hear was Saylor’s voice. What I wanted to see was her open those beautifully mismatched eyes even through the swelling and bruising on one side.
He’d hit her so hard, right in the temple. The emergency doctor had said she was lucky she hadn’t broken anything. Her x-rays ruled out a busted orbital socket. Still, there was a lot of bruising, a lot of swelling, and that drunk ass motherfucker was up on a whole host of charges that, frustratingly, would either get plead down or dismissed altogether.
It was times like these it was clear as day just how fundamentally broken the system was.
Driller could go to prison for life for trying to protect these streets and this guy would probably walk with barely a fine for being a menace to them.
Driller killed a kid… even if he didn’t mean to. Drunk guy hurt Saylor, and thank God, she’s still here. The thoughts did nothing to comfort me. None at all.
“You want me to stay awhile?” Skids asked and I nodded, mutely.
“You got it,” he murmured and pulled up a chair of his own next to mine to stand watch with me.
“Wake up, baby,” I whispered, silent tears tracking down my cheeks. “Please, wake up.”
If she could hear me, feel me smooth her hair lightly back from her forehead, she made no movement to acknowledge it. It killed me, worrying about her. Facing the monstrous thought that this could be it. That there was a possibility that she would never wake up. It was too hard to tell. All the doctors could and would say was that things looked good and she would come to on her own time and I hated that.