Beard With Me: Winston Brothers

by Penny Reid

“Now that’s a tricky question.” Darrell rubbed his chin, eyeing me. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re offering, and we’ll start from there.”

  I looked between Darrell’s easy smile in front of me and Raymond King’s sinister one behind me before offering the entirety of my saving’s account. “How about five thousand dollars.”

  Darrell’s grin grew, like I was funny. “Five thousand? That’s it? That’s all those girls mean to you? You’ve already gone through a lot of trouble for them.”

  “It’s all I got,” I said honestly, refusing to feel ashamed of the offer.

  My father chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, it’s something. We’ll take it, but we’re gunna need something else. Betrayal ain’t in our vocabulary and those girls betrayed us, they betrayed their kin. You know something about that, don’t you?”

  I shook my head, wanting to raise my voice and scream at him, wanting to tell him that he’d been the one to betray us. But that’s what he wanted. He wanted me to lose my temper so I’d blame myself when they did take Scarlet, when they messed her up, he’d then say her pain was my fault because I couldn’t control my temper.

  And I’d believe him.

  So instead, I kept my voice carefully quiet. “You’ve always hated me.”

  “No. Not always, son.” He shook his head, giving me a put-on sad look. “And I do love you, so much—the obedient part, if there’s any of that left. No son, I love you. You and me, we’ve been square for a while now. But Scarlet? Carla? They got a debt, and it’s a big one.” He whistled low, shaking his head and smiling again. “Unless, that is, someone else wants to take on the punishment in their stead, someone stronger.” His gaze flickered over me. “Someone who might survive it.”

  Take on the punishment in their stead.

  I swallowed, this time against the sick rising in my throat, because I knew what he wanted and what I had to do.

  “Leave her be and do whatever you want to me. I won’t tell anyone and I won’t press charges. That’s what I’m offering.”

  “And your five thousand dollars?” the man at my father’s right side asked. “Don’t forget about that.”

  I nodded but didn’t trust myself to speak.

  My father stared at me, his grin growing smaller, more thoughtful. And then he abruptly straightened, his eyes focusing in a new way, like he was seeing me for the first time. “You love Scarlet, son?”

  I licked my dry lips, but I said nothing.

  He gave me a small, sympathetic smile. “You shouldn’t. That girl’s got no loyalty, she’s got no fight unless it’s looking after herself. She ain’t worthy of you.”

  “Do we have a deal?” I pushed, not wanting him to talk about her, not wanting him to ever say her name.

  Darrell cocked his head to the side, continuing to study me. “What if she comes back here?”

  “She won’t.”

  “If she ever shows up back at the Dragon, she’s staying. She won’t be punished—if you’re taking on her atonement—but she ain’t leaving again either.”

  “She won’t come back to Green Valley. She’s gone for good.” She’ll never be back. I’ll never see her again.

  Darrell nodded thoughtfully, his expression introspective. “Whatever I want?”

  “That goes for me too.” Cletus interrupted, crossing his arms.

  Goddammit! “Shut it, Cletus,” I said between gritted teeth, and then to the Wraiths who were holding him, “Get him inside.”

  “No way. You’re not doing this on your own.” Cletus took another half step forward, straining against the hold Gears and Raymond had on him. “Do whatever you want, take whatever you want. I’m making a deal for Carla, same as Billy’s.”

  My father’s blue gaze slid to my brother and darkened. Even in my panicked state I saw a shift in his expression, an intensity of dislike he reserved for Cletus. Only for Cletus.

  “You want to be a hero, Cletus? Just like Billy? He your role model?”

  Cletus, looking thoughtful and not an ounce afraid, scratched his jaw as best he could given the fact his arms were being held. “No, Darrell. You are my role model, obviously. It has always been my sincerest desire to be an aging impotent biker with dysentery and the laughingstock of East Tennessee. Teach me your ways, Diseased-Wang Kenobi. You’re my only hope.”

  I closed my eyes briefly, my lungs on fire with dread, unable to wrestle my frustration and despair. Cletus was so smart, so fucking smart, and yet so astonishingly stupid. This wasn’t poking a hornet’s nest, this was trying to have anal sex with a rabid raccoon.

  When I opened my eyes, I sent my brother a warning look, pleading with him to say nothing else. He didn’t see me. He was too busy locking eyes with our father, a mild smile of satisfaction giving his mouth the slightest curve. I struggled to stay focused on the next minute, and the one after that, and the one after that. No matter what, I’d get through this, and Scarlet would be safe, and my family would be safe . . . as long as Cletus keeps his mouth shut.

  Darrell’s eyes had narrowed, shone bright with malice, and his smile had worn thin. The way my father was looking at my brother, it was a good thing none of his men had laughed at Cletus’s words. If they had, I was pretty sure they would’ve never found Cletus’s body.

  Taking a deep breath, Darrell shook his head. “No deal, Cletus.”

  “What was that?” Cletus turned his head slightly, like he hadn’t heard our father.

  “No deal. What I’m looking for is an even trade. And beating on a simpleton”—Darrell shrugged—“Well, where’s the sport in that?”

  “Then what do you want, Darrell?” Grit entered my brother’s voice, frustration. “You always want something.”

  Our father stroked his chin, his insidious stare moving over my brother and then stopping, seeming to snag on the animal at Cletus’s feet.

  “Whose dog is that?” Darrell lifted a finger, pointing at Lea.

  Cletus became very still, saying nothing.

  Darrell turned to me. “Whose dog is that?”

  Cletus’s gaze shifted to me, pleading, finally a spark of fear.

  I said nothing.

  “Billy, you tell me whose dog that is, or the deal is off, and I know Razor has been itching to make his mark on Scarlet’s pretty face, so—”

  “Lea is Cletus’s dog,” I blurted, and immediately felt like a traitor and a coward, the force of my betrayal knocking the wind from my lungs.

  A flash of confusion ignited behind Cletus’s eyes, like he couldn’t believe what I’d said or that I’d said it, but before he could speak, our father strolled forward. “Gears, give me that dog.”

  “Wait, wait, what’re you doing?” Finally, real fear entered Cletus’s voice.

  “Now, now, Cletus. You said whatever we want.” Darrell grinned at my brother, his eyes alight with sinister delight as he walked past me, leading Cletus’s dog to the truck. “Get in, girl. Come on now, Lea,” he said, coaxing the animal. “You’re gunna die today.”

  I stared at my brother, willing him to look at me and not Darrell, not at Lea. He was breathing hard, his eyes crazy as I’d ever seen them, glazed over with something more than rage. Clearly lost to madness, he took a step forward but was held back by the Wraiths.

  “Deals a deal, boy.” Raymond yanked him back. “You want that traitor Carla safe from what she deserves? We get the dog.”

  Finally, finally, Cletus’s gaze found mine, pleading with me to help, to do something. But then, abruptly, it sobered, as though the full weight of what was happening finally registered.

  “What are you going to do to Billy?” Cletus’s voice was choked, full of fear. Finally. “What are you going to do to my brother? You better not—”

  “That’s none of your concern, boy.” Darrell laughed gleefully, placing his hand on my shoulder, his grip painful. I kept my jaw tight, determined to make no sound. I would make no sound. I would take it gladly, all of it, if it meant Scarlet was safe.

  Think
of Scarlet.

  “Your deal’s been struck, sweet, stupid, simple Cletus,” Darrell mocked, his tone now menacing as he shoved me toward the truck. “And so has Billy’s.”

  Epilogue

  *Billy*: *Weeks later*

  “’Hide them all, then. Keep her – them – safe. Please.'

  ‘And what will you give me in return, Severus?'

  ‘In – in return? Anything.’”

  J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

  “You want more to drink?” I felt my sister’s fingers lightly thread into my hair, brushing at it so very, very gently, a whisper of a touch. “Doctor said they’re moving you to a regular room today. So that’s good.”

  I shook my head as much as I was able, my gaze lifting to hers. I wanted to give her a smile, but my jaw was wired shut.

  They’d broken it first thing, but then Darrell had stopped the guy who’d done it, saying, “Not the face. I like his face. I like that it looks just like mine. Don’t touch it.”

  “Sheriff James was here, when you were asleep.” My sister’s voice was carefully light. “I told him you still couldn’t answer any questions. He said they’d stop by once you get your jaw unwired or you can use your—” She cleared her throat, like there was something big and heavy in it. “Your hand again.”

  I watched her face as she said this. Even with all the pain drugs they had me on, I didn’t miss how watery her voice was or how her chin had wobbled.

  But then she sniffed, quickly dabbed at her nose with a tissue, and cleared her throat again. “Anyway. Your coach also came by with a few of your teammates. They left you a card; I thought that was nice. Also, Dolly Payton.” Ashley smiled at me, like she had some good news to share. “Turns out they were just about to promote you before . . . things. When you’re all healed up, you’re moving up to shift supervisor. She was just waiting until you turned seventeen. I thought you’d like that, youngest manager at the mill.”

  I tried to convey gratitude with my eyes. Ashley had been here with me every day. Seeing her had been the highlight of my day. She liked to ask the nurses questions, helped them whenever they’d let her with my care, and hadn’t shied away from any of my breaks and bruises. I was impressed.

  But then, I shouldn’t have been. Thank God for Ashley.

  “Ashley,” a voice said from somewhere near the door, someone I couldn’t see. “He’s got a visitor. Says her name is Samantha Cooper.”

  Sam. She’d come by a few times. Or maybe just once. I couldn’t quite remember. But she’d been soft-spoken, her eyes concerned, sweet. She’d been kind, reading messages to me from kids at our school who hoped I got better soon. She’d sat with me for a long time. I remember that.

  “Oh! Sam is his girlfriend.” Ashley turned to me, a question in her eyes. “Do you want me to . . .?”

  I nodded—best as I could—and she smiled warmly. “I’ll give y’all a half hour, okay? Don’t let her wear you out.”

  Placing a gentle kiss on my forehead, one I didn’t quite feel, Ashley left. I closed my eyes. Immediately, as soon as I did so, I was back in that room in the Dragon. I squeezed my eyes tighter.

  Prince King’s face in mine, smiling. He’d been one of the ones to hold me down when Razor carved into my shoulder with a big knife he’d kept in a cabinet full of blades. Prince kept saying, “You want to cry? You gunna cry?”

  I didn’t.

  As far as I remember, I didn’t make a single sound. I thought of Scarlet and all those lines on her back, the fresh slashes marring her spine. Scarlet had borne it and so could I.

  Think of Scarlet.

  The memories came and went, didn’t matter if I was awake or asleep. I remember them killing Lea. I remember them beating me, breaking my legs, I remember Razor and his knife. I passed out, I think, after that. And then I was here.

  I didn’t fight against the memories or hide from them. I’d done what I had to do, and that was that. Maybe I’d feel differently once these meds wore off and I actually felt something. I hoped not, but if I did, I’d deal with it.

  When I opened my eyes, Sam was there, looking down at me. But her eyes weren’t soft and concerned like they’d been before. They were red, sad. She’d been crying.

  “Billy,” she said, biting her bottom lip. “I came as soon as I could.”

  She came as soon as she could? What day was it? Was this a memory? Something that already happened?

  A sound of a chair scraping against the floor had my eyes focusing. Sam was still there, and she looked so sad.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Billy. The reason I haven’t been here is because I lost the baby.” Her head dropped to her hands. She held a tissue in them, or a few tissues, and she cried openly. “I wanted you to know as soon as possible. I just—I just wish you were well. I hate so much what happened to you, I think I made myself sick. I shouldn’t have let that happen. It’s my fault.”

  I tried to shake my head, a spike of frustration cutting through the fog. I remembered this from the last time my father sent me to the hospital, the frustration of helplessness, how my body failed me. The baby . . .

  My momma had made a similar bargain when I’d been twelve: you and your Wraiths stay away from my kids, and I won’t press charges. He’d kept his promise for years. Until just now. The baby.

  Suddenly, it was night and my first thoughts were of Sam and the baby, her sad eyes. I looked for her, she wasn’t there, but my mother was. She was asleep in the hospital cot.

  My mother.

  She was terrified. Furious and frantic, and she slept here every night as far as I could tell. I swallowed, or tried to, and my eyes drifted shut.

  I had a dream Ben McClure came, stood over me with sympathetic eyes. “I misjudged you, Billy,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’ve been blind, about a lot of things. You’ll be in our prayers.”

  What about Scarlet? I wanted to ask. Where is she?

  “He’ll feel better, recuperate faster once we unwire his jaw. Folks really start to improve when they can eat. You’ll be surprised by the difference,” a woman said.

  I was asleep again. Or, I had been asleep. Was Ben here?

  The woman’s voice was one I didn’t recognize but that sounded familiar.

  “And you’re doing that tomorrow?” This question was my sister, I recognized her voice, so steady. “What do we need to do to prepare? Will he be sore? Should we make him eat anyway if he’s sore?”

  The baby. Sam lost the baby, I reminded myself. I found I was still drifting, so I thought of Scarlet shutting that truck door in my face and driving away, of never seeing her again, and I used that hurt to stay awake. It was the only thing that made me feel anything but fuzzy. I focused on it, a wave of mournfulness rising up, helping me open my eyes.

  The other woman was speaking. She said something about me being stable, out of the woods, I’d be in a lot of pain when they decreased my meds. I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I fell asleep again, not hearing it all.

  And then, I was awake and in pain. Everywhere.

  My eyes shot open and I looked around. God, it hurt. It hurt. I clamped my jaw against it and that was a mistake. A crippling bolt of pain shot up both sides of my face, almost making me pass out.

  “No. No. Relax. Check his heart.” A nurse was over me, his big brown eyes staring into mine. “Billy? Hey there. Don’t bite down, relax if you can. Okay, okay. We’ll increase your meds, okay? We wanted to see how much you needed. It’ll all be fine. You’ve been on a lot and it’s not good for you. But it’s okay now, we found your threshold. Go back to sleep.”

  Go back to sleep? Was he fucking kidding me? Short of passing out from the agony—seemingly everywhere in my body—there was no way I was going to be sleeping anytime soon.

  I did the only thing I could to communicate the extreme nature of my frustration. I glared.

  He flinched back, saying, “Yikes,” under his breath.

  A woman took his place and she placed her cool
palm on my cheek, her gaze steady. “Billy, I’m Dr. Williams. I’m in charge of your case now that you’re out of the ICU. We have to decrease your pain meds. Someone did it too fast, and now here we are. You’ve been on a large dose for a long time. They shouldn’t have been stopped, but we can only taper them so slowly from here on out. We’re still going to give you some, but you’re probably going to feel like shit for a few days. It’s going to hurt really bad for another twenty minutes. Do you think you can handle twenty minutes?”

  I nodded, best I could, appreciating her straightforward approach.

  I closed my eyes. I breathed in. I breathed out.

  I could do this.

  Think of Scarlet.

  I thought of Scarlet and her smile and my heart slowed.

  I thought of Scarlet and her voice and I let the pain go.

  I thought of Scarlet and her jokes and her laughter and her spirit.

  I thought of Scarlet.

  *Months Later*

  “Billy.”

  I blinked, pulling my eyes from the parking lot beyond the window and to the door of my room. I blinked again.

  “Jet,” I said, my voice monotone, not really surprised by the absence of response within me.

  The shrink they had me seeing told me I was in shock, even now, all these months after. Cletus also saw the same doctor, just a few times; my brother said the shrink had told him the same thing; apparently, we were both in shock.

  Whatever.

  I didn’t care about the why or the reason for this perpetual calm, I was grateful for it.

  Jethro seemed surprised by—or maybe distrustful of—my lack of emotion. He also seemed reluctant to say anything, so we just looked at each other. He wasn’t wearing his MC jacket and his hair was combed. He wore a long-sleeved button-down shirt tucked into jeans. And a belt.

  Half in, half out of my rehab room, he finally spoke. “I was in the area.”

  I turned back to the window. He must’ve been warm. The weather had been hot this week.

  “Ash and Beau say you’re making good progress, healing up fine.”