The Perversion Trilogy: Perversion, Possession & Permission

by T. M. Frazier

  I raise my eyebrows. “I’m not on your side of town. I'm in the park. Neutral territory. Remember?”

  “I assume you're not here to help with the lunch today,” she says, in her strong yet smooth-sounding British accent.

  “To listen to you talk in that accent of yours, of course,” I say, lighting a joint.

  “Cut the shit, Grim, or I’ll make you deal with Damon.”

  Damon is Margaret’s son. If you ask anyone in town who leads the Immortals, they’ll say Damon. It’s a front. Margaret is the one calling the shots. She just lets everyone believe Damon is the one in charge.

  Including Damon.

  It’s a great cover. Even if she is using her own son as a shield in a way.

  “Not today,” I tell her. I pull the envelope from my back pocket and hand it to her. She looks around to see if anyone is looking before tucking it into the large front pocket of her long flowing skirt. She looks up at me, waiting for an explanation. “That’s your cut. We’re going into a new business venture, and I’d appreciate the support.”

  “The whorehouse?”

  “Strip club and gentleman’s retreat,” I correct her. “And how the fuck did you know?”

  She smacks me with the envelope. “Boy, I’ve been riding Chief David’s dick since before he decided he was suddenly a tribesman. You should know by now. I know everything.”

  I cough on my smoke. “You and Chief David?”

  She nods, throwing my words back at me. “You know, neutral territory and all.”

  “Touché. I’m all about keeping the peace.”

  She narrows her eyes at me.

  “To a certain extent.”

  Margaret sighs. “I’m afraid that extent might be ending and soon. I got the feeling that the second the wind shifts and Marco gets an ingrown hair in his ass, he’ll make moves to take the Immortals and Bedlam out. Don’t think he’ll wait out the month. And if he does, there’s no doubt in my mind he’ll burn down the entire fucking town in the process. He’s getting careless. Reckless. A leader like that is more dangerous to his own people than we are.” She looks up at me with her lips pressed together. Her shoulders sink. “I’ve lost a lot of my boys over the past few years. I don’t want to lose anymore. Not if I can help it.”

  “Belly recently said the same thing,” I say, truthfully. “And hopefully, we won’t have to.”

  “You think Marco’s gonna cause trouble when he catches wind of your new venture?”

  “I’m not sure yet. That’s half the reason I’m here. To schedule a sit-down and talk to you before it happens. The question I want to know right now is, will you be causing trouble?”

  She shakes her head. “I got enough shit to deal with in my territory, Grim. You posting up on the res to service gentleman callers from the casino isn’t high on my list of priorities.” She pats the envelope. “But I appreciate the consideration.” She holds it out.

  “That’s yours.”

  “I don’t want your money, Grim. I want to know that when the town catches fire, you understand that it won’t just be Bedlam caught in the blaze.”

  I nod. “Keep it. I understand. I got your back as long as you’ve got mine, Margaret. Besides, I like talking to you, and I honestly can’t say that about a lot of people.”

  “Boy, save that charm for some unlucky lady who will actually fall for it.”

  I laugh as one particular lady comes to mind. My smile fades.

  Margaret peers reflectively up to the sky. “How’s your old man holding up? I heard Belly’s had some problems.”

  I take a drag. “He says he’s doing alright. The docs over at Lacking Memorial fixed him up, put him on some meds. Hopefully, the old man will be around to groan and grumble for many years to come.”

  Yet, he just about gave me a reading of his will last night and may know something I don’t.

  Margaret’s smile returns. This time, it’s genuine. “Good to hear. I’ve always liked Belly, even when we were trying to kill each other, I’ve always had respect for a man who knew the meaning of loyalty and family. We’re a lot alike in that way.”

  “Except in the looks department,” I point out. “You got him there. Speaking of family, how’s your man-child doing these days?”

  She blows out a breath and shakes her head. “Damon is… a good kid,” she says like she’s trying to convince herself more than me.

  Damon is twenty-four, hardly a kid, but I get that she’ll always see him that way. He’s her son.

  He’s also a fuck-up of epic proportions.

  She shakes her head and closes her eyes. She presses her lips together. “But I swear to Christ if he brings one more pregnant skank over to the house, I’m sterilizing him in his sleep. Don’t get me wrong, I love my grand-babies, but I have a hard time keeping track of which mother is in jail, which one is out on parole, which one’s skipped town, and which one is coming after him with a razor blade.”

  “Quantity over quality?” I joke.

  “Something like that.” Someone calls her name, and she turns back to the table and holds up her finger, letting them know she’ll be there in a second.

  “Gotta run, let me know about that sit-down.”

  “Always a pleasure, Margaret.”

  She turns to leave, and I see out of the corner of my eye a black van rolling by the park. “Wait, you or anyone on your crew had the task force up your ass lately?”

  Her eyes follow mine to the van. Her smooth voice turns annoyed in a flash. “They got Damon a few days ago. Detained him for sixteen hours.”

  “Got me last week. Spent a while there myself under the care of Captain Lemming. They had Sandy for a while, too.”

  “You think they’re going to cause problems?” She places a hand on her jutted hip as the van makes a U-turn and slowly drives by just inches from where we’re standing.

  “I sure as shit hope not, or they’re in for a rude fuckin’ awakening that Lacking ain’t like other towns.” I wave at the van and so does Margaret.

  “No, no it sure isn’t,” she murmurs.

  “If they took Damon in and not you, then at least they don’t know who’s really running the show. At least, not yet. Means they don’t know as much as they want us to believe they do.”

  “True, so let’s keep it that way, shall we?” she says.

  I raise my chin in agreement. “I won’t give them shit about anything. You’ve got my word.”

  “The word of a criminal,” she laughs, “How comforting.”

  “Out of the mouth of one criminal and into the ears of another,” I point out. “And if anyone asks you about me, tell them the truth, that I’m just a sexy law-abiding citizen being unjustly harassed by the law.”

  “And I’m the Virgin Bloody Mary,” she retorts. Her face turns serious. Her shiny eyes go flat. “I mean it about losing people, Grim. I’m not willing to go to war again. I don’t want to go back to a time when I have to send my daughters away so they don’t get caught in the crossfire or a time I when I can’t stand in the park talking to an arrogant white boy from the other side of town without bullets flying from one side or the other. If the task force plays us against each other, they might unwittingly light Marco’s fucking match before he has a chance to light it himself.”

  I stub out my cigarette and light another one. “I lost a brother. As much as I like killing Los Muertos members, I like keeping my family alive more. Not sure Marco can say the same thing when it comes to us.”

  “And I’m sure he can’t.” I’m tucking my lighter into my back pocket when something catches my attention over her shoulder.

  Not something. Someone.

  She’s wearing a white tank top with a red anarchy symbol across the front. Her long brown hair is tied up in a tight ponytail. She’s making her way through the park with her backpack slung over her shoulder. She stops to tie her shoe next to a picnic basket, and when she starts walking again, she’s crunching on an apple she didn’t have before.

>   “You know anything about her?” I ask, pointing my cigarette over Margaret’s shoulder. I steady my urge to run to her, sling her over my shoulder, and drag her somewhere she can’t escape until she answers every single one of my burning questions.

  She turns her head and scoffs. “Yeah, I know about her. Enough to stay the fuck away from her. Let’s just say she’s got something I don’t want to catch.”

  “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

  “A gigantic case of trouble.” Margaret looks up at me and shields her eyes from the sun. “Let me know when you want to do the sit-down with Los Muertos. I’ll be there.”

  “I’ll wear my party dress.”

  Margaret calls over her shoulder. “You might want to wear church clothes. ‘Cause I have a feeling we’re gonna be doing a lot of prayin’.”

  Sixteen

  In a town full of graffiti and violence so thick you can see it rising off the broken asphalt like heavy fog, there’s only one place where I can temporarily feel like I’m not choking on it. The park. When my brain feels muddied, it’s where I come to think. To read, write.

  And breathe, without feeling like I’m being crushed to death under rules and threats.

  The patch of brown grass beneath me scratches at the backs of my legs. I’m sitting against a tall pine tree with my notebook open on my lap and my pen pushed against the corner of my mouth. The bus tickets are inside, tucked away in the pages. I haven’t told Gabby about them yet. I need to wait for the perfect time. Marco has business with someone in Miami and will be gone for a few days next week. We will have to make our escape then.

  If it’s not too late.

  You could be queen someday.

  My chest tightens, but I refuse to let Marco get to me. Not here. This is my place. The air is warm and smells faintly like manure from the nearby pasture. There’s a black and white dairy cow with swollen utters grazing near the fence. She pushes against the wire with her nose, trying and failing to get to the small patch of green grass just out of reach.

  “I feel ya, girl,” I mutter. “Everything I want is just out of reach, too.”

  Gabby and I can roam free. But, our situation is a lot like the cow in the pasture. Our freedom is an illusion.

  I look down at my notebook and start to write, escaping into my fictional world of fairytales.

  For the hundredth time today, I reach for the locket at my neck and remember it’s not there. Before the disappointment sinks in, I remind myself, yet again, that it wasn’t mine to keep.

  Neither is Grim.

  It’s both a terror and a comfort, knowing that I’ll never see either my locket or Grim again.

  I turn back to my notebook and pick up where I left off. An evil sorcerer has just cast a spell on the princess and the prince when a shadow falls over me. I slowly glance up at the man standing before me.

  Memo. Marco’s right-hand man.

  “What do you want?” I mutter, continuing to scribble away, acting disinterested.

  “Marco wanted me to find you.”

  “Well, you found me. Congratulations.” I give him a thumbs up. “And no, he didn’t. If Marco wanted to find me he’d just text me from the very convenient phone he gave me, which only allows calls to and from Gabby and Marco. What do you really want?”

  “Can’t a guy just come say hi?”

  “Yeah, but you can’t.”

  Memo adjusts his sagging pants. “Watch your mouth, gringa. You forget who you’re talking to,” he growls. Reaching down, he tugs me up by my arm. My notebook falls to the grass.

  “I know exactly who I’m talking to,” I answer, staring him directly in his eyes.

  “You’ve got an attitude problem.” He pushes me back against the tree, and my head collides with the bark. “I don’t normally like girls with such mouths.” He runs his thumb over the corner of my lip, and I jerk my head away. “But, for some reason, your attitude turns me on.”

  “Let me go,” I growl. “Marco’s not going to like it when I tell him you roughed me up in the park.”

  Because Marco is the only one allowed to rough me up.

  Memo chuckles. “Marco’s the only reason why I haven’t treated you like every other piece of pussy around here. But, your time is up, princessa. Soon, Marco will either take you as his, or he’ll pass you off to the next in line.” He smirks. “Which is me.”

  My skin crawls. He smells like liquor and body odor. Memo runs his hand along my arm, and I turn my head away and push down the instinct to bite his god damned finger off. He trails his hands down the side of my body, grazing my breasts with his fingertips before helping himself to a handful of my ass.

  “And that time is soon.”

  I lift my leg and send my knee sailing into his balls. He jumps back and grabs his crotch. “You puta! You’re gonna pay for that!”

  He raises his hand. The smack falls on my face with a brutal sting so sharp it makes bark from the tree beside my head explode.

  Wait, his slap just made the tree trunk …I don’t have a chance to finish my thought. Memo releases me and runs for cover, I manage to shove my notebook back into my backpack.

  Just as the bullets begin to fly.

  Seventeen

  Screams echo all around me, shattering the serenity as people scatter and take cover. I scan the area to see where the bullets are coming from. All I see are terrified faces and people’s backs as they run for cover. There are no bodies on the ground.

  Yet.

  Another set of shots ring out.

  I look for Tricks, but I haven’t seen her since she darted behind a thick tree.

  With my weapon in hand, I raise the hood underneath my leather jacket. I’m not thinking, only reacting as I dart through the now eerie silence of the park while bullets wiz through the air all around me. The dirt explodes like mini bombs around my feet. I round the tree to where I last saw Emma Jean. I find her curled up in a ball on the ground with her hands over her head.

  She doesn’t see me coming as I pick her up from behind, throw her over my shoulder, and make a run toward the pasture. She screams, thrashing and punching my back.

  “Let me go, asshole! I’m not going anywhere with you. I’d rather stay and be shot. If you force me, I’ll tell…”

  “Tricks,” I warn.

  My blood heats with adrenaline and a newfound need to murder whoever the fuck she thinks I am. I’m in a full sprint as I head toward the fence, using a tangle of overgrown roots to leap to the other side where a cow is lazily grazing as if he’s immune to the sound of bullets.

  She stills. “It’s you,” she whispers. “Guess you figured it out.”

  “Yeah, we gotta talk,” I grind out. The sound of the bullets grows distant as I make my way through the tall grass and into the thickness of the woods.

  “Uh…why? You gonna tie me up again?”

  I chuckle at her use of sarcasm after just escaping a rain of bullets. “I won’t be making that mistake again, we both know you can find your way out of restraints easily…Tricks.”

  Emma Jean

  Tricks. His use of my nickname both soothes and disturbs me. I’ve waited so long so hear him say it, but it’s a double-edged sword of epic fucking proportions.

  “Now talk,” Grim says, hauling me off his shoulder and plopping me into a plastic chair. We’re in some sort of marine stadium under a bridge overlooking the bay. It’s rusted and abandoned and, of course, covered in graffiti. I never even knew it existed.

  “What is this place?” I ask, taking in my surroundings.

  Grim looks around as if he’s just now noticing where we are. “It used to be some sort of concert venue and boat show stadium. Hasn’t been used since the 80’s.”

  “What a shame,” I say. “I bet it was beautiful.”

  “It’s not the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Grim quickly averts his gaze when my head snaps up. “And we are talking.”

  I shake my head. “No, we’re not.” I cross my arms over my ch
est.

  “You say that like you have a fucking choice,” he growls.

  “Yes, I do, Tristan.”

  “It’s Grim now.”

  “Yeah, so I’ve learned. But we’re still not talking. I don’t have anything to say to you.”

  He leans in close with both hands on the chair above my shoulders. “You don’t have anything to say to me?” He chuckles and closes his eyes in disbelief. When he opens them again, they’re glowing with anger. “I wouldn’t recommend pushing me too hard, Tricks. My tolerance is pretty fucking short these days, and if you haven’t noticed, I’m not the same kid anymore. You can’t con your way out of this one.”

  He closes in on me. I’m surrounded by his strong masculine scent. The sizzling in the air zaps all around us.

  “What do you want from me?” I yell, pushing against his solid chest. I stand, but there’s nowhere to go. I fall back down on the seat. He hovers over me, golden eyes shining in the moonlight.

  “I want to know what the fuck happened to you five years ago!”

  “WHY?” I scream. “Why do you—”

  “Because I need to know what happened to the girl who with one fucking touch and an accidental kiss fucking fixed me!”

  Holy Shit. I fixed him? I know he said he felt a change in him that day because of his letter, but I didn’t know…all these years? He thinks I somehow fixed him. I’m not worthy of that statement. Of any of this. The warming of my heart makes this all so much more complicated.

  “I…I didn’t fix you. Just because I like magic doesn’t mean I am magic. It was a fluke. Coincidental timing. You fixed yourself.”

  “I don’t think you have magical powers, but I know what I felt when you touched me. I wasn’t just imagining it because I felt it again in the alley and in my room.” He lowers his voice. “I feel it now.”

  I swallow hard. I don’t know what to say, but as much as I want to tell him the truth, it’s too dangerous for both of us. I know it now more than ever as the wind shifts all around us like it’s pushing us together.