by Beth Flynn
“Okay, now what is it I’m not gonna like?”
“I found her.”
“You found who?”
“Jan. I found my boys.”
Grizz leaned back in the chair. He’d been leaning forward, his elbows on the desk. He cocked his head to one side, considering. “I knew you were still looking for your boys. What is it I’m not going to like?”
“I talked to her. I scared the shit out of her. She never thought she‘d be found. She said she would tell me everything and let me work my way back into the boys’ lives if I just left her alone.” Then he sneered, mostly to himself, “As if she has a choice.”
Grizz raised an eyebrow. “Tell you everything? What’s left to tell?”
Blue tossed an oversized envelope on the desk.
“These photos of Jan and the boys were taken by the P.I. I hired to find them.”
Grizz opened the envelope and flipped through the photos, scanning each one quickly without paying much attention. He stopped when he got to a certain one and asked without looking up, “Why is there an old picture of Grunt in here?”
Blue didn’t answer. Grizz looked up and asked again, “Why is Grunt in this picture?”
“It’s not Grunt.” Blue’s voice was toneless, but his eyes were hard. “It’s my youngest, Kevin. Apparently, you aren’t the only one whose woman Grunt fucked.”
Grizz recovered quickly from the surprise. He leaned forward again, tossed the pictures on the desk and rested the weight of his massive arms on his elbows. He motioned for Blue to continue.
“Jan said—she said it was Grunt who orchestrated your arrest, Grizz.“
There. It was out.
Grizz sat there a moment, let it sink in. Did he believe what Jan had told Blue? Possibly. Maybe. He already knew Grunt had manipulated him the night he took Kit’s virginity. The billy-club had been Grunt’s idea. Yes, looking back with perfect clarity he could see it all. The muscle in his jaw clenched.
Blue‘s voice had a dangerous edge. “That piss-ant little brother of yours has been the enemy all along. Not that Jan was an angel. That slut must have slept with him when he was just a kid. The whole time that bitch thought he was my little brother and she still did it!”
Grizz looked at Blue and sighed. He remembered how he’d insisted, on Grunt’s very first night at the motel, that Blue pretend to be his older brother. It was an order, and Blue took on the role willingly. Blue had always assumed Grizz was Grunt’s brother. He never questioned it.
“Fuck, Blue. There’s something I never told you. I guess you believed something and I let it ride. I didn’t think it really mattered, and I thought I was protecting the kid. It would‘ve come out in that bitch‘s article. Thanks to you, it won‘t, but you should still know.”
Grizz steeled himself. “Grunt is not my little brother.” A pause.
“He’s my son.”
November, 1966
The young biker had just pulled into the Mindy’s Market on Davie Boulevard. It was a privately owned convenience store similar to a 7-Eleven, but with more of a homey atmosphere. The kind of place you wouldn’t associate with a franchise, but with a family-owned business.
He had just turned off his Harley and put the kickstand down. He was studying the knuckles on his right hand, which was still on the handlebar. His knuckles were scraped raw, and large chunks of skin were missing. There was a lot of blood. After a few seconds he took the last Lucky Strike from its crumpled packet, tossed the empty packet to the ground and wondered whether it was too early for a beer. He lit the cigarette, which dangled from his mouth as he closely examined his hand again. It was possible that he broke it. He had just come from what would eventually be a long list of fights too numerous to count. He would use the convenience store bathroom to clean up and make a better assessment. But first, he would finish his cigarette.
That’s when he saw her. She had just come around the side of the store. There was no parking on the side because it was right up next to a sidewalk that paralleled the road. He didn’t see an adult. She must have walked there by herself. He thought she looked small to be walking around alone, and he wondered how close by she lived. She was a cute little thing. Long brown hair held up in a sloppy ponytail. Bangs almost covering her oversized brown eyes. She wore a wrinkled pink T-shirt and cut-off blue jean-shorts. Her knees were scraped but not bleeding, and their whiteness was in stark contrast to her tanned, bony legs.
She had on white sneakers with purple pom-poms tied to them.
Just then, a boy who looked to be a little older than her came barreling around the store. Good. She’s not alone. She has a big brother.
Before the biker could ponder why he would even care, the boy spoke. “Hey Gwinny, your mom is a hippie-whore-pothead.”
No, this wasn’t her brother. He was a bully. The biker wondered if he’d deliberately followed her.
Without turning around to the boy she replied, “And you, Curtith Armthrong, will be begging her to thell you her pot when you’re a teenager.” The reply was delivered in a very calm and even voice with a whopping lisp. The biker noticed then that she was missing her two front teeth.
Curtis Armstrong didn’t know what to say to that, so he just waved her off and turned and ran back around the side of the store. She went inside.
The biker caught himself smiling, something he rarely did. Spunky little thing. He was almost finished with his cigarette. He lifted his sunglasses and wiped his face with his arm. He was sweaty and grimy from the fight.
He’d just put his sunglasses back down when she came out. She walked straight toward him. She was carrying a small brown bag. He threw the last of his cigarette on the ground and stepped on it. He was still straddling his bike and crushing what was left of the cigarette with his heavy boot when she appeared at his side.
She reached into her brown bag and pulled out a box of bandages. She handed it to him and said, “Here, thethe are for you. Your hand lookths hurt real bad.”
He didn’t know what to say or do, so he found himself taking the box from her tiny hand. He was shocked by her observation. He’d been watching her when she first showed up and couldn’t remember her looking back at him. How had she noticed his hand?
Before he could reply, she bent down and picked up the discarded and crinkly cigarette packet he had so carelessly thrown down earlier. She turned around and walked toward the corner of the store where she’d first appeared. She tossed the litter into a garbage can. Then she stopped and looked back at him.
“You thouldn’t thmoke. You could get lung canther.” Then after a brief pause, “And nobody likeths litterbugths.”
And with that she was gone.
He couldn’t help himself. He smiled again. He got off the bike and walked around the corner of the convenience store. He saw her walking, ponytail swaying with each step. He didn’t see any sign of Curtis Armstrong so he turned around and went into the store. He walked up to the clerk at the cash register. He wanted to ask about the little girl, but he didn’t want the guy behind the counter to think he was a pervert.
“Just saw some bigger kid picking on that little girl that walked out of here. Looks like she handled herself pretty good for such a small thing.” He waited to see if the guy would say something. He did.
“Yeah, that was Gwinny. She walks here every day by herself to buy her mom cigarettes. She’s a sweet little girl. Smart, too. It was probably Curtis, and I’m sure she gave him a piece of her mind. He’s always picking on her.”
“I hope she lives close by.” And then after thinking about how that sounded, he quickly added, “If she has a long walk it’s more opportunity for the kid to bully her.”
“She lives down the street right here,” he said pointing to the side of the store where Gwinny had first appeared. “But I’m not sure how far. Did you want something?”
“Yeah, pack of Lucky’s.”
The clerk rang up his purchase without taking notice of the biker’s hand. At least
if he did notice, he didn’t show it. The biker paid for his smokes and walked out the door. He tossed his newly purchased cigarettes into the garbage can. He’d been smoking since he was twelve. Maybe it was time to quit.
He’d forgotten all about the pain in his hand. He got on his bike and started it up. He rounded the store on the side where Gwinny went. He looked up at the street sign. S.W. 23rd Avenue. He idled as he looked down the street and noted it was a nice block with small houses on each side. He could see her far off in the distance. She obviously hadn’t arrived at her house yet or turned off any side streets.
When she turned a slight curve and was no longer in his line of sight, he slowly drove the distance to the curve. He cautiously rounded it. He didn’t want to scare her if she heard the bike and thought she was being followed, which she was. But it didn’t matter. She was no longer there. She must have gone into one of the houses.
He wasn’t real familiar with this neighborhood and figured that instead of turning around he would just follow the street and see where it came out.
Unfortunately, he came upon a dead end. The houses at the end of Gwinny’s block were fancier. A little more upscale. He could see through some of the backyards that these homes were on the water—hence, the reason for the dead end. He turned the bike around in the small cul-de-sac and headed back the way he came.
That’s when he saw her. He caught a flash of color on his right. She was on the side of a house trying to lift an oversized watering can to water some hanging plants. She was struggling under the weight of it. If she noticed him, she didn’t show it.
He found he wanted to watch her, but couldn’t. It wouldn’t look right and might scare her, or alert someone in the neighborhood to his presence.
He didn’t gun the bike until he was past the curve and out of view from anyone who may have seen him pass Gwinny’s house. He couldn’t help but wonder if her hippie-whore-pothead mother took care of her. He couldn’t fathom why he cared. Then it occurred to him.
The bandage offering was the first time in his life that someone actually did something for him. Never once had there ever been even a suggestion of someone who gave a damn about him. No one. This little moppet was the first.
He knew then what he was feeling was a brotherly protectiveness toward her.
He vowed then and there to keep an eye on the little girl. He could go unnoticed in the background and just keep tabs on her. Make sure she was okay. And that’s what he did. For the next nine years.
He had no way of knowing then that the brotherly care and concern for a child would turn into love. That she would become his obsession and the one true love of his life. That she would eventually be the reason for his death.
Even if he did know it then, he wouldn’t have changed a thing.
An Excerpt from Book Two in this Series
Out of Time
1976
Grunt leaned his head against the wall and sighed. He was sitting on his bed trying to concentrate on his homework, but he couldn’t. He closed his eyes and immediately saw her. Kit. She was laughing at something he’d said during one of their chess lessons. Well, they used to be lessons, but she was smart and could almost beat him. He’d thought more than once about letting her win, but that wasn’t Kit’s way. She would have to beat him fair and square. Maybe one day she would.
Kit was the girl who lived a few units down from him. Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t really call her a girl. She had been living with the gang since she was fifteen and was married to their leader. She was now sixteen and had experienced more in the last year than some grown women would in a lifetime. No, Kit was definitely no longer a girl. She was a woman. And she was the woman he had been in love with for a very long time. Even before she came to the motel.
He had accompanied Grizz many times over the years to keep an eye on the young girl, who was then called Gwinny. He didn’t know why Grizz took him along. Maybe people were less suspicious of a man who had a kid with him. He was sure they assumed he was Grizz’s younger brother or son. It didn’t matter. He always looked forward to the times he would be able to watch her. He didn’t remember the exact moment it became love. There had been too many times to count how often he’d observed her do something over the years that melted his heart.
He remembered her first night at the motel. It was last May. He didn’t know Grizz was going to bring her here. He had secretly hoped maybe Grizz would step aside and let her find her own destiny. If that was the case, Grunt was certain he could insert himself into her life. He’d imagined it a thousand times—casually running into her somewhere. Making small talk. Making her laugh. Hell, he’d even thought about enrolling in her school, but that charade would be too difficult to maintain. Especially since he was already in college, and he had no doubt that Grizz wouldn’t have allowed it.
He laughed to himself at the memory. People in love are willing to do desperate things, he thought. He’d never imagined Grizz was falling for her, too. He knew about the obsession, but couldn’t remember when it became more than that for Grizz. He was too busy wrapping himself in his own fantasies of a life with her. A future. Unfortunately, as long as Grizz was around, no other man would ever have a chance with Kit, let alone a future.
Her first night at the motel was seared in his memory. He had been leaning back in a lawn chair staring into the fire. Willow and Chicky were arguing about something. Monster pulled up on his motorcycle. He could tell there was a female on the back. He’s certain he gasped when he noticed it was her, and Monster was walking her toward the pit. What the fuck?
He half listened as Willow argued with Monster about the girl being a “thank you gift.” Bullshit. He knew better. She was only fifteen and probably scared to death. But if she was scared, she certainly wasn’t showing it. He watched her as she calmly observed the exchange between Willow and Monster. He knew she hadn’t seen Grizz when he walked up next to her. What would her reaction be to him? He watched as she noticed Grizz for the first time, her eyes slowly moving up his body until they reached his face. She showed no emotion that he could detect. When Willow lunged for her and Grizz intervened, she never even flinched. He couldn’t believe how brave she was that night. The dying campfire cast an almost angelic glow on her face. The face he had loved for a long time. And now she was here, and she belonged to Grizz.
He’d watched that first night as Moe led her to number four, listened as Grizz told the gang they were never to discuss her. They weren’t to look at her, speak to her or address her presence at the motel. Ever. He then watched Grizz turn around and go inside.
It was only a few minutes before Moe came out. She was walking toward the pit with her head down. Grunt jumped up and walked quickly toward her. He gently took her arm and led her to his unit. He heard some laughter from the pit. Let them think what they wanted. Once inside, he asked her, “Is she okay? Was she crying or anything?”
Moe looked up at him with an odd expression on her face. She nodded. Shit. Which question was she answering? He grabbed a piece of notebook paper and a pencil and handed it to Moe.
“Let’s start over. Is she okay?”
Moe nodded yes.
“Please don’t make me ask you, Moe. Just tell me what’s going on inside number four.”
Moe wrote, “Seems okay. Not crying. Not afraid of him.”
He was relieved. “Good. What else?”
Moe retrieved something from her pocket. It was a wallet. She laid it on his bed and wrote something else on the paper. “Have to burn it.”
He looked at her without saying anything. Seconds ticked by.
“Will you keep it? Will you hide it? Will you do that for me, Moe?”
She nodded yes.
He took the paper she had been writing on and crumpled it up. He would take it out to the pit and toss it in the fire. He left Moe standing in his room. He ignored the whistles and lewd catcalls concerning his and Moe’s time together. Assholes.
If he had taken
even a moment to stop and look back at Moe before he left the room, he would have seen an expression on her face he hadn’t seen before. The look of a woman who loved someone who could never be hers. It wasn’t just the age difference that would have stopped it. Moe had the look of a woman who just realized the man she loves is in love with somebody else.
It was the look of despair.
Grunt was jolted back to the present by a loud commotion outside. He got up and went to his window. He shook his head as he watched the scene. Typical—some guys had lured a young couple back to the motel and were tormenting them. Grizz commanded the dogs to be quiet, but he ignored what was going on just a few feet away from him. He was talking to Chico, who was probably setting up some of kind delivery. It didn’t matter. Whatever it was, it was certainly illegal.
Just then, Grunt noticed movement to the left. Kit. She was walking purposefully toward Grizz. She said something to him that Grunt couldn’t hear. Grizz replied to her, but apparently it didn’t satisfy her because she didn’t go away. He saw Grizz nod to Chico, and Chico said something to one of the other guys. Grunt saw her flinch when the couple was executed.
She turned around and started back toward number four. He could see her face clearly. She was upset, but trying to control it. Good. This would work out for him. He wouldn’t have to come up with a plan to lure Kit away from Grizz. Grizz’s ruthlessness would push her away. He would wait. He needed some time anyway. He would graduate college, make something of himself and be able to offer her a life away from this band of criminals. It would just take some time. He would let Grizz continue to show her what a bastard he truly was. Chess was Grunt’s game, and he was the best. This wasn’t chess, but it would be the most serious and important game he’d ever played in his life. Each move would have to be painstakingly calculated.
He smiled as he watched Grizz striding toward number four. The game was on and Grunt hadn’t lost one yet.
