Gage

by Jessica Joy

  “Go sit your sorry ass down at the table while I do this. I’ve got some things to talk through with you anyway,” Sawyer says.

  “Fuck yer bossy today,” I grumble as I grab my crutch and make my way to the table. Feeling useless grates on me more than anything else in this life. If there is one thing I have fought tooth and nail for my entire life, it’s to never feel useless, helpless, to never be a burden. It’s probably the only thing my father ever gave me worth appreciating.

  Fuck. Not going down that rabbit hole of awful. I don’t think my poor hungover brain… or liver… could handle the amount of binge drinking that always accompanies thoughts of my father. No, I have plenty of shame and pity party fodder with recent activities, I don’t need to go dredging up that history, thank you very much.

  It’s been close to two weeks since I woke up and this is the first time Sawyer’s come to me to talk about anything willingly. Sure, we’ve talked, but I’m always the one asking the questions, or it's just polite conversation over dinner with Tessa playing referee. Don’t think for a second I haven’t noticed the fact that none of us have phones at the moment, and there isn’t a single communication device in this goddamn flat. There’s somethin’ goin’ on, and if Sawyer doesn’t fill me in soon, I’m goin’ to lose my fuckin’ mind.

  After a few long minutes left alone with my thoughts, Sawyer comes over and sets a bowl of soup and a couple of slices of bread in front of me, settling into the chair across from me with his own bowl. Not sure what to say, I give him a chin lift of acknowledgement before tucking into the meal. We eat in semi-comfortable silence for a while until Sawyer finally clears his throat and starts in on whatever it is he needs to tell me.

  “Got a message from Tink today.”

  “Yeah? Whad’id Tinkerbell have te say?” I ask, trying to sound casual but I’m really fuckin’ excited to hear from someone other than my three bozo flat mates. I haven’t heard a word from anyone back home since I woke up, and it’s not sitting well with me to be honest. Two weeks is about one week, six days, and twenty-three hours too long for any of those nosey motherfuckers to stay quiet.

  Sawyer digs in his back pocket and pulls out a postcard, throwing it on the table between us. The picture is of a white sand beach and a lone palm tree with the words “Greetings from Tahiti” scrawled across the sky. I reach for the card and flip it over, inspecting the back. The postmark is from Riverside, Iowa, and the message reads “Why ya gotta be such a Rhodey to my Tony, Son?”

  Looking up at Sawyer I toss the card back on the table and give him a look of confusion. “What the fuck? And ye know this gibberish is from Tink how?” I ask.

  “Fuck if I know what any of it means, but one of DiMarco’s guys dropped it off this morning when he came to pick up the girls and little dude so they could go shopping, said it was from home. The message is some of Tinker’s nerd shit. I’ve been googling and I think it's something to do with Iron Man,” Sawyer grumbles in exasperation

  I stare at him for a moment, the name Iron Man clicking everything into place, but the look of complete confusion on Sawyer’s face is entirely too entertaining to let on so quickly. This should be fun. “Still haven’t watched anythin’ Marvel yet?” I ask, taking a bite as Sawyer rolls his eyes. “How long did that one take ye?”

  “Don’t wanna talk about it,” Sawyer mumbles as he shovels his meal into his face, avoiding my eyes.

  “So, beyond ye not knowing shit about pop culture, what’s Tinkerbell goin’ on about?”

  “Not sure yet. The fact he knew we were here and used a drop like this means shit hit the fan back home and he’s taking cover from the spray,” Sawyer says, his tone serious.

  “... ye still haven't figured out the Rhodey comment, have ye?” I laugh, taking another bite. This really is too easy.

  “You try googling “Rhodey and Tony nerd shit” and see what kind of useless crap you get!” he snaps incredulously.

  “Ah… did Spartan discover the deep dark world of fanfic?!” I chuckle.

  “Not sure which is worse… the shit I was subjected to today, or the fact YOU know all about it,” Sawyer says, thinking he has the upper hand again.

  “I mean, Iron Husbands is great and all, but I’m more of a Stucky guy meself,” I respond nonchalantly, enjoying the confused and slightly disgusted look on his face.

  “What the… do I even want to know?” he asks in horror.

  “It’s called bonding with the Brothers. Ye should try it sometime. Tinkerbell and I have had our fair share of movie marathons and late-night Call of Duty tournaments,” I supply, ripping off a chunk of bread to dip into my soup.

  Sawyer looks back at me like I’ve grown a second head. “Who are you and what have you done with my best friend? The coma fucked with your head more than we thought man.”

  “Oi, none of that ye bastard. I’m allowed to have interests outside of chasing after yer sorry ass and cleaning up yer messes.”

  “Well fine, Nerd Whisperer, what am I missing?” he asks with an eye roll. He really hates not knowing things, it’s so fun to fuck with him over it.

  “Rhodey betrays Iron Man in the second movie. Rhodey stabs Tony in the back by taking his suit and turning it over to the military. I can already see yer eyes glazing over so I’ll keep it short. If Tink has his panties in a twist, and thinks we pulled a Rhodey on the Sons, safe to guess someone thinks we fucked the Sons over,” I explain, leaning back in my chair.

  “Well fuck. I hate being right,” he mumbles.

  “Just because Tink is being dramatic doesn’t mean ye were right,” I counter, not willing to even entertain the notion that he was right.

  “If nothing were up, he would have just fuckin’ called. Something’s not right,” Sawyer snaps.

  “I don’t have the patience to play detective Sawyer. Just spell it out for me, whatcha thinkin’?”

  “We need to find out what is goin’ on back at the Club, but if Tink went through the trouble of routing a note like this, it means we can’t just call or reach out through the normal channels. We need to find another way, need to use a middleman,” Sawyer explains, and I know exactly where his train of thought is going.

  “No. No fuckin’ way. I know that look and it aint happenin’ Brother,” I say firmly. No fuckin’ way am I going down that path any farther than he’s already shoved us.

  “We aren’t using one of the girls, and we’re already here. Why not use the resources at our disposal?” Sawyer asks evenly.

  “We’re only here because ye went behind my back and called the fuckin’ MOB! Out of everyone on the planet, the DiMarco’s are the last people I ever want to get tied up with again, let alone owe a fuckin’ favor. I’m pissed enough at ye for calling Sal in the first place asshole, don’t push it now!” I rant, ready to chuck my soup bowl at the fucker’s head in frustration.

  “Sal has done nothing but help us since I called. Do you have any idea how much money he is shelling out for your medical bills?”

  “I don’t bloody feckin’ care! All’s I see is another debt he can call in when he fancies it. He’s the mob Sawyer. He ain’t helpin’ us outta the kindness o’ his heart. This WILL come due one day; I know that better than anyone,” I state firmly, pretty sure there is smoke coming out of my ears as I do.

  “You got history with them; I know. And one of these days you’re gonna tell me about it. For now, though, I don’t see what other choice we have. We’re already in his debt, what could one more thing on top do?” Sawyer asks, his calm and reasoned tone setting my teeth on edge. The ding of the elevator sounds just as I push up from the table, settling onto my crutch and looking down at him.

  “For someone so smart, ye really are an unbelievable moron, Spartan,” I snipe. “I hope ye know what yer gettin’ us into, cuz when this comes back around, and it will, I hope ye can afford the price he’s gonna expect ye to pay.”

  Chapter 8

  Lexi

  I love my sister. Wait, correction- I lov
e my sister Bethany; I’m not entirely sure about this Tessa person. I know that may sound harsh, and most people wouldn’t understand it, but she really is a completely different person from the sister I knew back home. She’s not a bad person now by any means; she’s strong, confident, caring- all words I never would have associated with her while we were growing up. It’s amazing to see how far she has come into her life as a mother and an Ol’ Lady in the Club, especially having heard everything that happened before she ran away from that bastard David and she disappeared from my life. Honestly, now that I think about it, I lost Beth- Tessa even before she ran away to the Sons. I’m pretty sure the last time I saw her before the Sons 'rescued’ us had been our parents' funeral years before. I heard through the grapevine that she and David had gotten married, but I had no idea she had gotten pregnant, much less actually had the baby.

  I don’t begrudge my sister an ounce of the happiness she has found. She deserves all the happiness in the world, and so much more. I really am proud of her, yet, she isn’t my sister anymore. Tessa cares about me, is an amazing mother, loves her man, and loves the Club… but I don’t know the woman she has become. As much as I would love to be able to pick up right where we left off all those years ago, there is just too much between us and we’re both too different now. We’ve both tried to talk, or just spend time together, but it always ends the same way; with horribly awkward, crushing silence.

  So that’s how we find ourselves; Tessa, Evan, and I, riding the elevator back up to the loft in painfully awkward silence. You know it’s bad when even the ten-month-old who normally never stops babbling is quiet and the only sounds are the whir of the elevator and the wet sucking of a pacifier. Tessa came to me earlier this afternoon saying she wanted to take Evan out for a bit and was wondering if I wanted to join them. While being cooped up for weeks on end should have made me jump at the chance to go out with someone other than a bodyguard and myself, I wasn’t up for the real reason Tessa wanted me to come out.

  Ever since we got to Minnesota, she’s been trying to get me to open up and talk to her about what happened with Darrin, his accident, and everything that went down with the Pikesmen. She keeps pressing, insisting that it ‘isn’t healthy for me to keep it all bottled up inside,’ and how ‘opening up about it will help me move on, help me heal.’ The thing she doesn’t realize is, I have opened up… or at least I had.

  Tessa wants so badly to be there for me, to be my older sister again, but even though her heart is in the right place, she’s never looked past her intention to see what I really need. Gage. I had Gage. From that first night in the motel after he saved me, he’s been there for me. He’s never pushed, never judged, never pressed for more than I was willing to give. He’s just always there for me. We spent so many nights staying up talking, and the nights that I didn’t want to talk, he made me laugh. His dumb, jokey self could disarm an Irish car bomb at a bachelorette party. But most of all, he let me talk at my own pace and he would listen as it all tumbled out. All the stress and hurt from losing Darrin so suddenly, the pain of getting sucked into Tessa’s shitstorm, reliving the loss of our parents with the sudden reappearance of Tessa with her own little family. Gage was the shield to all those feelings that I just wasn’t ready to deal with, and now I lost that safety net too.

  I know she means well, and deep down I’m appreciative, but I’m currently on the “I-hate-you-please-go-away-and-leave-me-alone-forever” anti-big sister kick, and I just want my man back. I don’t need to open up to Tessa, at least not like she is hoping I will. I’m just not ready to accept this new life she has made for me, which admittedly is a little weird, but I can’t say I hate it. I’ll never tell her that though, can’t let her think that I’ve gone soft and let go of that time she froze my last clean bra before my freshman dance back in high school. No, I still have yet to repay her for that travesty of a joke.

  Regardless, my attempts at being strategically unavailable have failed miserably today. At one point, while we were walking through a store on the Miracle Mile, I resorted to using Evan as a buffer. He’s in that grabby “I’m gonna shove anything and everything in my mouth” phase, so whenever Tessa would start asking questions or attempt to steer the conversation toward topics I would rather avoid, I would lean Evan just a little closer to a display and let him knock something over or grab something and shove it in his face. Not my best move, I admit, but it worked enough to get me to now, in this wet sounding, sucking, slow ass elevator with the tension still building.

  I had hoped after we made a mess at the makeup counter things would settle down and the car ride back would be in peace, but again the universe proved she has me solidly on her shit list. If there is one thing I’m grateful to DiMarco for, other than setting us up in the loft and covering Gage’s treatments, it’s the fact he gave us Leo. Leonardo Bianchi, Big Leo, Slippery L, L.B… Yeah... Leo is one of Sal’s men and has been assigned to the five of us since we landed here in Chicago. He acts as our driver and bodyguard whenever we leave the loft, and in general helps out wherever he can without being too in the way.

  Leo and I have a great relationship going, basically he’s my only friend right now, much like that stranger sitting next to you on a six hour flight. I can usually count on him acting as a buffer in situations like today. As I said though, the universe hates me today and Leo was in a foul mood from the moment I texted him this morning to say we wanted to head out. The little bit of information I was able to drag out of him on the elevator ride down sounded like a classic case of girl trouble. I wish he would have told me more, but something was clearly wrong and I’m pretty sure he just wanted to shoot something, so I chose to let it lie. When we got back in the town car after our shopping trip, I had been planning on asking him how his afternoon was and if anything had gotten resolved, but he simply turned around to check if we were settled and then raised the partition between the front and back seats.

  Which brings us to now, still in the elevator, with Evan attempting to suck that stupid pacifier into the unknown. The deafening cadence of him chomping away is broken and I’m pulled from my thoughts when Tessa heaves a sigh and turns toward me, Evan propped on her hip giving me a dead eyed stare of a baby that clearly is ready for a nap. “I know you’re going to run off as soon as the doors open, so I’ll just say this Lexi; it’s been months since everything happened and I really just wish you would open up and talk to someone. You’ve been so quiet since coming home.”

  Home. What the hell does that even mean anymore? “I did talk to someone and he’s forgotten every fuckin’ word I ever said to him, on top of who I am.” I say flatly. Tessa just blankly stares back at me, clearly not sure what to say. “I don’t have a home, this isn’t my home,” I say, gesturing out the opening doors of the elevator. “I know this is what you want, but I can’t be the person you want me to be right now so please, just let me be.”

  The SUV pulls up to a large wrought iron gate set in a tall classic Chicago red brick wall. A young guy is stationed at the gate, pulling it open for our little caravan to pass through. He shuts and locks it again quickly once all three vehicles are through.

  “Welcome home Al, to the Forsaken Sons Clubhouse,” Gage says proudly, sounding like a damn Disney park tour guide as he gestures out the window.

  I’ve managed to keep mostly silent the last three days on our journey here from Seattle but something inside me snaps when I hear the word ‘home.’ Without thinking, I shove the car door open and stumble out into the parking lot, not caring that we haven’t fully parked. As I attempt to make my escape, I lose my footing on the gravel and stumble a bit, but quickly regain my balance and storm off toward the gate. All I can think of right now is the need to be anywhere but here.

  Home. He called it home. It’s not, it's not my home, it doesn’t even look like a home, but apparently it’s his. It’s theirs. It’s hers. Not mine. I have no home, not anymore. I was supposed to have a home with Darrin, to finally have a place I could feel safe
and call my own, but that was ripped away from me the day those assholes kicked in my door, snatched me from the couch, brought me to that shit ass garage, and told me, “Your little boy toy took a tumble and won’t be comin’ to save you, sweet cheeks.”

  Hot tears sting the back of my eyes as I near the gate and I grit my teeth to keep them from falling, refusing to let myself show any weakness around these men. I just need to leave, to be somewhere on my own before I let any of these feelings out. I can feel them coming, have felt it for days now. My entire world is teetering on the edge, ready to come crashing down around my ears as soon as I let my guard down.

  A firm hand grips my shoulder and pulls me up short, turning me around to face a fuming Gage staring down at me. God he’s tall.

  “Just where in the hell do ye think ye’re goin’ Al?” he snaps.

  I growl in frustration and shrug out of his hold. “Stop calling me that! I’m leaving,” I turn on my heel and take all of two steps closer to the gate before his arm comes around my shoulders and he guides me back toward the doors of the Clubhouse. I dig my heels in and try to spin from his hold, but he merely tightens his grip on me and keeps walking.

  “Now why would ye want to be leavin’ us Al? We just got home! Surely ye'd at least like a proper rest and some food before ye go stormin’ off into the sunset,” he quips, and I can hear the teasing smile in his voice as he guides me closer to the massive ironbound wood doors. There’s that fucking word again! Every muscle in my body tenses as he says it and I dig my heels in even harder, forcing him to stop as I try to duck under his arm and turn from him again.

  “This isn’t my home!” I yell through clenched teeth, my anger seeping into every syllable of my words. Gage’s steps falter for the barest of moments at my outburst, clearly not expecting it before he quickly recovers and pulls me back into his side, directing us toward the clubhouse again.