Redeemed Love

by M. S. Brannon

  However, one of my favorite parts about my mother’s beauty was her long, thick black hair. During the day, it was always neatly pulled up into a bun, but in the evening, we’d lie on her bed or sit on the couch and she’d let her hair down. I was fascinated and couldn’t help but touch it. It felt like the finest silk under my fingertips. There was something very comforting about being held in your mother’s arms. When I was in her lap, I’d twist her black strands around my finger.

  Now, my mother’s hair is stringy and falling out. It’s always dirty, full of knots, and greasy to the touch because she doesn’t care what she looks like anymore. Once my brother died, she lost all direction in life. The best parts of her died right along with him.

  I would never want to live in my mother’s shoes, even when her life was full of joy, because it always seemed she’s had to overcome something. First, my grandfather’s sudden death when she was a teenager, followed by my grandmother a year later. But it’s when she lost my father that she started to slowly not care about life anymore. Then, after Ricardo died, she was done. Her heart couldn’t possibly break anymore, and she checked out. My mother now drinks heavily every day. When she is awake, the bottle is in her hand as she tries to wash away all her pain.

  The drinking started when Uncle Matt came to our house, explaining my father’s murder. She hates him more than I’ve ever seen any one hate another person. She blames my uncle for allowing my father to work for him when we moved from California. She blames my uncle for my father falling in his evil plan and making him a part of his crew.

  I was young when we moved to Michigan, but from what my mother says, my Uncle Matt lured our family into the drug underworld. He promised money, elegance, and an easier way of life. Subsequently, not too long after we arrived, my father couldn’t survive the drug world and was killed.

  I will never forget when he came over to our house to tell my mother about his death. He wasn’t allowed inside our house, and when my mother stepped out onto the back walkway, she knew. She knew my father was dead. I had peered through the kitchen window, watching my mother pound her fists into Matt’s chest, screaming her pure hatred for him over and over as she sobbed.

  My mother fell to pieces that day, and to numb her sorrow from my dad’s death, she picked up the bottle. From that day forward, she constantly reminded me to stay away from him, to never accept anything from him because then, we would owe him.

  “We’ve already paid enough,” she’d say as she’d tip the bottle up and guzzle.

  At first, it was only a couple of times a week, but as time went on and after my brother died, the bottle never left her hand. She even stopped going to church, losing her faith in God altogether. It breaks my heart that a woman I looked up to, a woman who I would gladly say was my role model, could be brought down by the bottle.

  My father’s death had been traumatizing, yet she had found the strength to keep going in life when she looked at her kids. When Ricardo died, it was like she didn’t have any children anymore because she lost all her faith that day. God was no longer someone she worshipped; He was someone she hated. The thought was unimaginable to accept, considering she’d been religious her entire life. So, essentially, the day my brother died, she lost both her kids and the ability to believe again. This is where God and I have something in common. We’ve never really existed in my mother’s life since Ricardo’s death.

  I think Uncle Matt recognized that. He knew how my mother felt about him, but when he got a glimpse at her emotional state at my brother’s funeral, he could immediately tell I was no longer a part of her life. At that point, I was too afraid to ask for his help, however as she detached herself from me and others around her, I became lonely and missed having family around. Uncle Matt was my only family left, and after my brother’s funeral, he told me I could visit him anytime. And that’s why I go there; just to escape and feel a little bit of comfort. He still offers me money, but I refuse to take it. I know my mother will find out, and I don’t want her to hurt anymore.

  Tank and Victor act as though they are my uncle’s brothers, but they are really just close friends. They met on the streets when Matt was taking over leadership and they all became close. So close, they both changed their last name to Ryker. Not many people know that; in fact, I don’t even think Jeremy is even aware of it. I suppose they did it because my uncle doesn’t have any real family besides me. Maybe this is why I keep him in my life. I’m his blood and it’s my way of showing allegiance to him.

  My uncle is a violent man, who’s done horrible things, but he is the only family I have left, besides my mother. So, as expected, my uncle is very protective of me and loves me like I am his own. Perhaps that’s why I feel comfortable there; he cares for me like a father would care for a daughter.

  I was young when we moved to Butler, and I always knew my dad was involved in something dangerous, yet it never bothered me. In fact, to this day, hanging around men who are involved in the same criminal activity still doesn’t concern me. Initially, I was too young to understand, but then it just became normal. Drugs, guns, violence; it all became something common. In a sense, I’ve always been attracted to it. This leads me to Jeremy, my best friend and a person I’ve worked so hard to understand. He’s a part of this underworld, though it’s for very different reasons than most men his age. He’s looking to the future and preparing for a life outside of the violence. And, in order for him to do that, he needs to be violent himself.

  I was raised with faith being a strong cornerstone of my family’s values, although we seemed to move away from it at times. So, the night Jeremy rescued me, I knew he was sent from somewhere. It was someone’s plan to put Jeremy in my life and vice versa. I never have been so sure of anything in my life. He is my dark and mysterious angel who’s been sent to this earth to protect me. My life would be impossible without him.

  I know he’s heavily involved in my uncle’s business, but Jeremy didn’t do it to shove his money in people’s face or because he had nothing better to do. Jeremy got involved because he needed to save his family. And while he’s been working hard to save them, he’s saved me in the process.

  I do love him. No matter where Jeremy goes in life or what happens to him, I will always love him. However, I sense his distance from me. He will be open with me one minute, then closed off and quiet the next. I know he is working something over in his mind, but what? What has him so confused and withdrawn? Maybe, if I boldly tell him how I feel, Jeremy will finally allow himself to feel the love he deserves to have.

  My thoughts are circling in a continuous loop around my brain. I lay my head back against the couch and fall asleep on the floor, holding my intoxicated mother and dreaming of a love I may never have. Dreaming of a love that would be impossible to live without.

  I roll into the parking lot of The Slab to meet Ronnie. We have a big shipment coming to town in the next couple of days, and Matt has lined up new clients for the dealers to distribute to.

  When I round the corner, I’m relieved to see the bar is dead. I have successfully evaded Jake after ditching him at the races for the last month. I’ve done this by disappearing. I will sleep at Ronnie’s or in my car to avoid going home and answering my brother’s questions. Up until our weird encounter in Cami’s room a month ago, I was perfectly comfortable sleeping over at her house. It was nothing for me to rap on her window where she would lean over and unlatch the lock, inviting me in. In fact, I was too comfortable.

  I don’t have time right now in my life to think about what might have been. I will never be able to get involved with Cami and that is something I’ve accepted—mentally at least. However, physically, that’s an entirely different story.

  I walk into the bar and find Reggie behind the counter, staring at the baseball game on the television. I don’t bother saying anything to him; I haven’t really talked to him lately, and now that my double life has taken on an existence of its own, I don’t talk to anyone anymore because the underworld
is taking over. I can’t risk anyone knowing what I do when I’m gone, so I have to withdraw myself.

  I used to care about sports—I used to care about a lot of things—and I was just as crazy about sports as my brothers, but the only thing I have passion for now is making money. Making enough money to save all of us from the horrors of Sulfur Heights before it’s too late.

  Ronnie is already sitting at our designated table, texting on his phone, when I approach.

  “Hey,” I say as I pull a stool out and join him. I then pull my own phone from my pocket and set it down on the table top, ready to discuss business.

  Ronnie raises his head and appears visibly annoyed. He shakes his head at the message he’s reading. “Fucking Carter,” he says then lifts his glass of beer to his lips.

  Carter has always been a douche bag in my opinion, but lately, his behavior has become more and more questionable. He was supposed to help us move product from our California supplier to Butler, but in his wasted state, he could hardly function. His mind was on a whole other planet, rambling on and on about his new girlfriend. It’s common sense you keep your private life out of your work life as much as possible, so I was finding it strange that all of a sudden he’s talking up his girlfriend.

  A couple of nights ago, Ronnie and I caught Carter actually shooting up. A little coke is one thing, but he was full on jabbing a needle into his arm. You know a dealer is a true junkie when they start tripping heavily off their own stash. My mother taught me this. She was a whore for her drugs and sold it so she could use. Although I was young, you never forget shit like that. Carter was beyond fucked up and his head was far away from the game.

  I roll my eyes. Knowing how much I can’t stand that prick, I regrettably ask, “Why, what’s he done this time?”

  “Oh, nothing unless you call practically decapitating a random dealer a big fucking deal.” Ronnie pulls up his phone. On the screen is a bloody man. Looking over my shoulder to see if anyone is around then back to Ronnie, I pull his phone closer to my face. On the screen is a picture of our newest member. His neck is sliced from ear to ear. “That stupid fucker just messaged this to me.”

  Carter disgusts me.

  I clear the picture off the screen and pass it back to Ronnie then I connect my eyes with his small, blue ones, letting him know how serious I really am. “He’s getting really careless and is going to get one of us locked up or worse. We need to talk to Matt about him. I mean, what if he does this shit on a job? We are meeting up with some pretty big distribut—”

  “Talk to Matt about what?” Ronnie interrupts. “That Carter has totally lost his mind? He won’t give a shit. Matt loves his insanity. Besides, he will think we’re pussies and might get rid of us.” Ronnie’s eyes are intense and commanding. He rarely raises his voice, however I can tell he’s trying extremely hard to keep it under control.

  My face begins to ignite in anger. Is he not hearing what I’m saying to him? Carter is a loose cannon and his idiocy will get us in trouble. I would rather take my chances with the Rykers than go to prison. The way Carter’s acting, that’s exactly where we all will be going, too.

  “What the fuck is your issue, exactly? You wanna keep working with someone who’s a big liability? Do you want to risk going to prison for that fucker? ‘Cause I’ll be honest, Ronnie, you won’t last a fucking week in a penitentiary.”

  My freaking twin sonar has kicked in just as the person I’ve been avoiding slams his hands down on the table top.

  “Well, hi there, brother. Long time, no see.” His attitude exudes prick and the typical snarky Jake Evans tone is in full swing.

  The hair on the back of my neck rises as my back lifts up. I’m completely consumed by my alter ego, sucked into the role of my double life, so the sight of my brother here angers me. “What do you want, Jake?” My voice is low yet laced with fury.

  “That’s a great question because I was just about to tell you exactly what I want.” Jake glares at Ronnie, who instantly looks scared. Jake’s a loose cannon and will blow up on anyone, especially when the bottle is in his hand. He takes a long drink and resumes his line of questioning. “I want to know what the fuck is going on with you.”

  I can feel rage boiling under the surface. The heat is taking over and sweat is now forming a slick layer over my skin. The familiar adrenaline I use when Matt sends me on those special jobs is now one hundred percent in my body and I try my best to control it.

  “Don’t worry about where I’ve been.”

  “Now, you see, you’re mistaken. When my twin brother sneaks off at night, ditches on his obligations, and disappears for weeks at a time, I begin to make it my business. Now, tell me what’s going on with you.” Jake lets out a slight burp as he wipes a drop of whiskey from his chin. This is Jake’s prepping process prior to a fight. He is getting the fuel he needs from booze.

  When he flashes me his trademark smirk, the anger I’ve been trying so hard to control ignites. I stand, pushing the stool away from the table, my eyes meeting my twin’s. Jake slams the bottle down and turns to face me—squaring me up as his opponent—and I mimic his stance. We are standing nose to nose and it will be a matter of seconds before I snap.

  I give my brother one last warning, not recognizing the menacing voice coming from my mouth. “I tell you now, Jake, stay out of it. What I’m doing doesn’t concern you. Now drop it.”

  “Jeremy.” He clears his throat and some of his anger begins to wash away, however I stay poised for battle. “Look, I don’t want to fight you, but you have to tell me what’s going on.”

  The guilt of my secret and the longing to be close to my brother again starts to destroy my alter ego. I look down to my feet then back into Jake’s eyes. This is my brother, my twin, and I cannot lie to him. I’ve remained secretive about my dark life, but I’ve never lied to him. And I cannot lie to him now. Jake is the other half of me, my flesh and blood. Of all my brothers, it’s Jake who will truly understand what I’m doing. He sees right through me, right into the evilness that’s lurking within me and ripping apart my vault of secrets.

  With genuine concern coming from his eyes, I begin to cave. “Look… it’s just—”

  Ronnie stops me from speaking another word when he grabs my arm then shakes his head, telling me to stop talking. Ronnie is right. The more people who know about my other life, the more opportunities there will be for someone to get hurt. I shut my mouth completely and nod back to Ronnie, assuring him I won’t say another word.

  “You better take your hand off my brother and step the fuck away from our conversation before I hand you your balls. Got it?” Jake seethes to Ronnie.

  “Look, Jake, this is really none of your busi—”

  “Were you about to say this is none of my business? Please tell me I’m mistaken because you will be drinking your meals through a straw if you say otherwise.” Jake is livid. I’ve never seen him so angry in all my life. He turns his body fully to Ronnie and begins to square up with him.

  I stand to my feet, knowing Jake can level him with a single punch. Ronnie is an excellent negotiator; fighter, not so much.

  “What?” Drake’s voice booms through the bar as he starts running toward the front door.

  As Reggie’s eyes connect with Jake then me, he motions for us to go to the back room.

  “I’ve got to see to this, Ronnie.” I abandon him at the table and follow my brothers into the back office.

  When we step inside, Darcie is sitting in the chair, hands in her hair. She’s been crying. This never happens, and I know immediately something horrible has happened. I can’t help thinking something happened to Mia and I instantly feel bad. I’ve rarely seen my niece since she was born, and I doubt she would recognize me now.

  Reggie comes around to the front of his desk and leans against it, pondering He clears his throat, preparing himself to say the right words. “Darcie, Drake and Delilah found out today what’s been going on with Presley.” He crosses his arms again and my stomac
h sinks.

  Presley? What’s happening with Presley? I haven’t seen her in a month or so. Well, not since she had Mia really. Now I feel like a fucking douche bag. She’s going through some stuff, and I haven’t been there to help her, my niece or my brother.

  Then the ball is dropped and nothing—and I do mean nothing—could prepare me for what Reggie says.

  “She’s using heroin.”

  My double life starts to merge with my private life.

  She’s using what? I’m dumbfounded. This is impossible. Why didn’t I know about this? If she’s using heroin, then it’s a ninety-nine percent chance she got it from the Rykers, and as a distributor, that means I singlehandedly put the drugs within her reach. I am a part of this life, and now it’s a part of my family’s.

  I’m trying to think of something to say. Something to make sense out of this. I don’t want this to really be happening. I need this to not to be true more than I need food or water. I need this not to be occurring right now.

  “How do you know?”

  “You mean, other than her shitty attitude?” Darcie snaps.

  Reggie runs his hands through her hair and kisses the top of her head. He’s distraught over this. The concern is masked all over his face as he tries to remain strong for Darcie.

  “She’s got major track marks on her arms and…” Darcie breaths in deeply and then shatters my world. “Carter Brown brought her home last night.”

  Anger and hate consume me. The double life as I know it falls out from underneath me. The alter ego I’ve been trying so incredibly hard to keep separate from my family is full-on and present in the room. The sadistic douche bag has been feeding Presley heroin? She couldn’t be the girl he’s been talking about, could she? No, Presley wouldn’t do that to Drake; she loves him way too much. But I have to ask. Before I seek revenge on Carter, I need to be sure he was with her and the reason for her current state.

  “Are you sure?”

  Just as Darcie is about to disclose her answer, Jake’s cell phone starts blaring and breaks up everyone’s train of thought. The sound is piecing, but nothing is worse than hearing Delilah screaming on the other end and Mia wailing in the background.