by Evelyn Glass
It’s not the quick, dramatic start I had thought it would be, but the speed dial moves quickly up the loop. 20 miles an hour. 30. 40… 50… 60… 70… It maxes out at 80 just in time to smash through the metal. The sound of the chiming music and the crunching chainlink stuck to the front rims screeches into the night sky. If they didn’t know I was here, they certainly did now. I press down on the break, causing my speed to dim down before spinning out in a huge circle like a high schooler doing figure eights in the supermarket parking lot.
Finally, I come to a stop and head towards the back of the truck. I don’t know what to expect now. With Amy in charge, I have no idea who is on my side and who isn’t. I have to go on gut instinct, and that pit in my stomach is practically screaming at me to run. But I stay put. I wait until I hear the voices of my former men surrounding the truck. They peer in at me from the front windows and slowly make their way to the back.
Against the metal doors, a man whispers urgently, “Boss. Open up. Quick.” I recognize the voice instantly. It’s Perry, one of the newer members of the club who has always looked up to me. I check myself before I let him in. No hair is standing up. There’s no feeling like I need to keep my gun close to me. This is about as good as it is going to get for me. I open the doors quickly so only he can pass through.
Perry stumbles into the truck with his arms held high. The poor kid is only eighteen, but he looks as if he’s been through hell and back with me. I almost feel some pity. No pledge signs on for this sort of political, petty shit. I lower my gun slowly, still keeping my finger on the trigger for assurance. “I’m sorry, Liam. She just showed up with these guys, and we didn’t know what to do. We didn’t know where the hell you were, and --”
“Slow down. Start from the beginning. Tell me what exactly happened and what’s going on now.” I need to keep the kid calm, but the group outside is picking up. I half expect to see Amy standing there with a gun pointed at the truck.
“We were doing normal business when Amy and the Black Mafia stormed in with Mateo and his boys. There were about forty of them. She said surrender or be killed. Winston got popped right in the head. No one can find Jason. They left and then came back with that girl you go with. She’s inside in the main office with Mateo. Amy’s inside waiting for you -- something about some gems or something… I don’t know. It’s crazy!”
“Who is outside? Are they with Amy or are they with me still?”
He peeks over his shoulder, staring out at some of the faces. He takes a moment before he confidently says, “I’m pretty sure they are with you, boss. Amy’s gone nuts. Her taking down Winston changed a lot of minds back to you.”
I grab onto his shoulder as I say, “Here’s what I need you to do…” I lay out my plan for him as simply as possible. All I need from him is a way to get me inside. Those loyal to me would take the outside. The boy nods his head before grabbing my hand, shaking it firmly, and then heading back outside.
He yells out loudly, drawing attention from the group. “Why are we listening to Amy? What the hell has she done for this club…” His voice rises as a crowd begins to gather from the front of the truck to the back. I grab my gun, holding it tight to my chest as I bound out the front passenger side and round the corner of the truck’s engine. No one seems to pay any bit of attention to me. Luckily, they’re too invested in arguing through Perry’s speech.
I sprint towards the door, constantly checking my back as I go. I manage to slip an arm in, grabbing a hat from a rack before boldly putting my entire body inside. With no one around, I charge my way inside like a bull towards red. All around me, Amy’s voice echoes around me as she screams commands to unknown people floors above. At least I knew she wasn’t going to win any fans like that. None of these guys respond to being told what to do, let alone by a woman.
The offices are a few feet from me, easy enough for me to sneak straight to the first one, opening the door just a peak. Nothing. The second room is dark from the look of the space along the bottom. But from the third door, I hear it. There are two hushed voices inside anxiously talking back and forth. I lean my ear against the door, careful that the rest of my body is up against the wall, away from any possible fire.
“What the hell are we going to do? She’s going to come back and find him here… oh shit. I can’t believe it… oh shit!”
Jason’s voice pops in as I realize that he fulfilled his mission. He found Alana. “I need you to stay calm, Alana. We’re going to get the fuck out of here. You heard that music too. Liam is coming for us. He’ll know what to do with the body.”
“Amy is going to have them kill my dad when she sees him. Then she’s going to kill us both. I need you to tell me what to d--”
There’s nothing more I want to do but storm into the damn room and play the motherfucking hero, but the sound of heels on the stairs above makes me retreat to the empty room next door. I close it shut just enough to see the shadow of Amy’s skirt swish against the wall. She adjusts her top and puffs up her hair before walking in, a wide and red smile across her face.
I bound out of the room knowing I don’t have any time to waste. Whatever happened in that room between Alana and Jason meant there were seconds between life and death, and I couldn’t sit back and listen to it happen. There’s a rush of wind as I throw open the door, my gun raised and pointed outwards.
A shot is fired. The blast smacks against something in my body as I fly back towards the door. I open my eyes just in time to see Alana run for me, my name on her lips as she screams a sound I’ve never heard. Jason stands behind her looking more shocked than terrified. He pushes Alana by the shoulders and charges straight towards Amy. Another shot is fired as I watch helplessly as my friend tumbles down with his hands gripping around his stomach.
I try to speak, but the air is sucked straight out of me. All I can muster is, “No… no… no,” as Amy turns towards the only person without a bullet in them. I watch as Alana’s eyes peel open, those beautiful blue pools becoming as stormy as the sea itself. Flecks of light flicker as tears form around the corners. She pleads desperately for her life, but Amy just laughs the way she does with her head cocked back and her mouth wide open.
The gun lifts again pointed straight at Alana’s head. Alana’s eyes close as she begins to count. In the distance, I can hear the signs of my backup. But it is too late. We are done. I manage to cry out “Alana -- I love you!” I want her to hear it, to know it. We’ll meet again soon in a place where we would never have to worry about these dangers again.
Her eyes pop open again at my shout, just quick enough for her to see me dart towards Amy with my arms outstretched. Amy’s thin body collapses underneath me as I can feel us both falling fast towards the hard cement floor. Amy screams, and there is a crack coming from her knee locked between my thighs. The pain is too much for her as the gun drops out of her hand.
“Alana! Now!” Alana leaps into the action, kicking the gun from Amy’s reach. She leans down as I roll Amy face up to me. Alana places the sharp, blood-covered blade of a pair of rusted metal scissors to Amy’s neck. There’s a long pause when no one moves. It’s as if all three of us have taken a timeout to check ourselves, to catch a breath.
Alana begins to sob; her hands shake as she looks up at me with quivering eyes. “I… I can’t do it, Liam. I can’t kill her.”
“Shh. No. You don’t have to do anything Alana.” With my arm still pressed deep into Amy’s bare breastbone, I place my hand upon Alana’s. She lets go of the scissors, letting me take over. “Go check on Jason, and tell me if he’s dead or not. Can you do that?” She scoots backward on her hands as she wipes away a few tears that have stained her cheeks.
“How sad…” Amy finally spits out. “You’re with a chick who can’t even stand a little bloodshed. Trust me, Liam, you’re going to grow real old of that little whiny bitch sooner rather than later. Don’t make the worst mistake of your life.”
Alana turns back around on her heels and walks over
to my side. Grabbing the scissors from my hands, she places the tip of them into Amy’s neck so that a small sliver of skin parts under the tip of the blade. Amy gulps and her hands curl. With one, long breath, Alana drops the scissors and lands a fist straight into Amy’s face, causing the side of her head to reverb back into the tiles with a smash. Alana drops the scissors next to me and stands slowly back on two feet and walks towards Jason as if nothing has happened.
Underneath me, Amy is silent. Her eyes are closed, but I can still feel the shallow breaths beneath my arms. I grab a line of extension cord that’s been covered in smears of blood to wrap around her chest, arms, and legs. It would have to do for now. I can hear the sirens growing louder in the distance. The rest of the building seems to have come alive with men streaming out of their hiding spaces and heading out towards the doors for a getaway. No one even pays attention to us.
“Liam…” Alana grabs my shoulders and pulls me back towards Jason’s cowering body.
He’s pale but still moving slowly. His lips have gone dry, and when he speaks, it’s as if it comes from the deepest part of his body, “You gotta get out of here, Liam. Take the girl with you. I’ll be okay.”
Alana looks back at me, her face completely conflicted. She wants to follow Jason’s order. If Mateo’s butchered body is anything, it looks as if she may have some real blood, outside of Amy’s, on her hands as well. But as I grab her hand, entwining her fingers with mine, that whole look of desperation washes away.
“No. We’re not going anywhere. Hang in there. Help is on its way.”
Alana leans her head onto my shoulder as we wait.
Chapter 27
NINE MONTHS LATER
“Alana, darling, we need to talk… there’s an offer on the table. Better than the rest. Best you’ll probably get. This is money that could make heads spin!” As much as I love my agent, Cathy, she has a tendency to overreact, especially as of late when the contracts have been rolling in.
“Can we do this another day? It’s really not the best ti--”
“No, Alana. We need to decide today. The offer from Griffin Studios expires tomorrow, and the newest one from Energy Films wants an answer in 48 hours. Time doesn’t stop because of your big day!”
I let out a long, anguished sigh as I hold up a hand to Jana, asking her to wait just a little bit longer on the hot curling iron. I step out of the living room and into my bedroom. Though, from all the stacked boxes and piles of papers and pictures, it’s hard to believe that this will ever become a master bedroom.
I push aside a portfolio laid atop of the messy bed and lie back on the sheets. Staring straight up at the newly painted ceiling, I let myself ask, “Okay? What is this one going to give me if I say yes?”
“$1.9 million, control of the script, executive producer title, and a 1% cut of ticket and redistribution. That alone could net you another ten million easily if the film does well!”
I know that, as my agent, her job is to be totally focused on the money, but I only care about one thing and one thing only -- my story. Ever since the news station helicopters began swarming Steel Saints compound, as Liam and I exited arm and arm via police escort, there hasn’t been a day in which I haven’t been offered some kind of money to get the true story out there.
First, Liam agreed to do the talk show rounds. The public relations manager his coach hired for him, basically told him it was a must. Sure, he got to walk free by agreeing to turn in information about his club and the whereabouts of Amy and other Black Flag Mafia members, but it didn’t make him look any less innocent. In fact, Amy’s website hack had made it even worse for him by basically pinning him to crime after crime.
So, for two long weeks, we traveled back and forth from New York, LA, Chicago, and Dallas. We sat on every soundstage, every fake living room set, every high news desk they could find, and we repeated the same rehearsed story over and over again -- just as we had practiced on the plane like two actors rehearsing our lines.
We were made out to be this massive love story between a goody college girl just fighting to keep her dad alive and a rising boxing star caught up in the criminal world he longed to get out of. But over the course of those two weeks, we became so much more than headlines to one another.
Liam became my comforter as he held my hand almost every second we were together. At night, he would rock me to sleep in the wide expanse of his arms so that I could fall asleep to the sound of his heart still beating as I traced the scar from where the bullet just missed hitting an artery. And, for my part, I promised to let him lead the way, trusting him with every call and decision, even if it meant letting go of my pride and fear to let him back into my heart.
A month after the interviews were done and the news cameras had all but disappeared (except for the sports paps who still followed Liam around as he worked to regain his spot in the pros), my life went back to normal, as normal as it could be. I opened the new and improved ice cream truck back up thanks to the money from my blog and spent my nights finalizing my thesis presentations for my final semester at grad school.
Whenever I had a free moment away from it all, Jana and I would revive the blog. My anonymity was long gone, but to my surprise, my readers weren’t. In fact, they seemed even more intrigued by Graduate-Level Ice Cream than before, and the Bad Boy Chronicles became this outlet where girls would get together for advice and wisdom from others who went through the same situations.
My first offer was to host a talk show. I was so not interested. It meant moving to LA and leaving behind Liam and my dad, who had become fast friends. Plus, I’m certainly not camera ready. No matter how many times Liam whispers to me about my “luscious legs” or “fantastic piece of ass,” I was not going to give up the gun on that one.
But the studios wouldn’t take no for an answer. They brought me back a million other little ideas, each with higher and higher paychecks. Eventually, Jana and I sat down and began researching talent agents for writers and producers. Cathy was top in her game, the highest recommend out there. She worked with everyone, it seemed, and she was a closer. Liam loved her during our first meeting when she basically told him he was getting paid crap under his contract with his talent agency.
No offer Cathy has brought to me has been like this one before. Having control of a script meant I could make it as real as I wanted to be. I could show the true story behind Amy, the ice cream truck, Liam, my dad… I could flip it around and make it a comedy about a girl wrapped up in boxing and jewelry theft. I could even write about today, my wedding day, and all the strange and horrible roads that led up to our happy ever after.
I sit up straight in bed and reach across one of the side tables for a framed photo of Liam and I. I know I shouldn’t love a photo taken by a news reporter, but it was caught in just the right moment. We were inside the police station’s waiting area right after Liam had been released from the hospital. I had gone to show support, to help him get through his deposition with the DA, but I was just, if not more, nervous than he was. A journalist with a cell camera caught me leaning into his shoulder, my forehead pressed deep into the fabrics of his jacket as he kisses my forehead.
What this photo doesn’t catch is what Liam said next, “No matter what happens, nothing is going to break us, Alana. You and me, we’re in this together forever.”
And he meant every single word. It was only a week later when he surprised me with a diamond with a cluster of rubies and emeralds surrounding it in a halo. It sparkles and shines just like his eyes in the moonlight of our new bedroom window. I was speechless as he pulled me into the empty ring of the MGM hotel, but I managed to say yes over and over again until he scooped me up and spun me around like a champion with their prize.
Today was the day we would finally seal that promise forever. Jana was in the next room sulking with a curling iron as I was pushing the time envelope, and my dad was somewhere out back, decorating the ice cream truck with a “Just Married” sign. Liam spent the night at his
grandmother’s home, preparing the restaurant for the after party. Besides the three witnesses and the county judge, we wanted our wedding day to be just us.
Cathy grows impatient with me as she breaks all the thoughts running through my head, “Alana, I know you’re busy and that this isn’t the best time to talk to you about this, but this is show business, and it doesn’t wait around for anyone.”
“I get that. And I’m leaning towards saying yes. You know that having the writing credit is all that I want. Just do me a favor and ask the lawyers if I can still write the novel. If they let me have that, I’ll say yes, and you can bring the paperwork to the party tonight for me to sign.”
Cathy squeals loudly into the receiver, “Oh Alana! This is so exciting! This is what writers like you always dream of, but you’re one of the few that can say it happened! We’re going to make you and that new husband of yours rich!”