by R. J. Lewis
“Ava,” he passively said, before turning to me. “You want a drink, dove?”
“She’s too young for alcohol,” Jem intervened, leering at me.
I fisted my hand and pressed my nails into my skin, shooting Jem a curt look.
“How young?” the old man demanded, leaning forward to take a closer look at me. “Why is she in a uniform? Is she a nurse?”
“Go grab a drink,” Megan cut in, suddenly looking exhausted. “I’ll sit Charlotte down, and you and Jem can have a word. There’s something he needs to talk to you about.”
Conor was busy gauging my emotions. His brows furrowed, but I smiled with ease in return. I wasn’t going to force him by me, even though I’d been in the house less than a minute and wanted to run for the hills. Jem seemed impatient, like he desperately needed to talk to him. I motioned him to go and he reluctantly did.
The second they disappeared down the hallway, Megan motioned to a sitting area by the window. There were two chairs and a small round table between them. I went to them, and she followed, making small chat to a few random faces along the way. I took a seat and she took the other.
“I’m sorry for being rude earlier,” she quietly said, surprising me. Her hard face had softened. “I’ve been entertaining for a couple hours now, and I’m about to load a shotgun and blast my head off.”
I blinked a few times, not expecting that. “It’s okay. I understand.”
“Truth is, the second Conor is out, everyone resurfaces.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “The same reason you waited all these months, I suppose. Look at my neighbour Tricia by my dad.” I glanced at the woman in the red dress. “She wears that same dress every single time he’s out, and she hopes each time he finally notices.”
I cracked a smile. “He hasn’t?”
“No.” Megan resignedly shook her head. “My son tends to spark hope where it shouldn’t exist. So, who knows, maybe once upon a time he gave her a compliment.”
I eyed Tricia. Her mirror was out again, and she was running her finger over her lips, smoothing out the lipstick.
“You like my son very much?” Megan suddenly asked.
I looked back at her. “I do.”
“Are you prepared for the wild ride in front of you?”
“I don’t know what you mean. I haven’t been here long enough to understand.”
“I know that. I heard what happened to your father. I know your mother and your stepfather. I’ve seen him come around the ER one too many times in need of stitches. I’ve treated her black eye and listened to the outrageous excuses she has for them. I’m sorry you had no choice who brought you into this world. Does Conor know anything about them?”
I felt too shaken to respond immediately. No one had ever had this conversation with me. No one had bothered to suspect.
I mustered a weak shrug. “I don’t believe so.”
“He wouldn’t,” Megan said, more to herself now. “Because if he knew, he’d get involved somehow.”
“Why would he do that?”
“My son waited eight months for you. He has never done that. He ditched us to see you first thing. He doesn’t get attached to women, ever. Whatever you did that night before he got taken away did something.” She shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t believe in this kind of bullshit, but I think I’m going to see it before my eyes. I think he’s found something, and I don’t know if it’s good for him.”
My breath hitched. “You don’t think I’m good for him?”
She studied me, her face softening further. “That’s not what I meant, darling. You can be the sweetest thing to ever grace his life. What I am saying is my son has no boundaries, and he doesn’t comprehend right from wrong. To him, it’s a blur with no distinguishable colours. He has always fought for what he believes in. He’s put himself through prison for the sake of his sister. He even beat his old man to the ground when he laid a finger on me, and it had only been one time. But” – she scoffed – “one time was too many, Conor said.”
I listened without interrupting. I’d witnessed Conor beat Ember’s boyfriend without warning. Had seen the vehemence in his eyes as he threw his punches down like thunder. I was aware in his head he felt justified, even though it was ludicrous to think you could solve everything with a violent swing.
“Thing is,” she said thoughtfully, looking at a spot on the floor with a faraway look, “I don’t know where he got it from. On paper, they’d say his father was the same. They’d say he learned from him. Alec was in prison many times, and he never seemed to learn either. But, if you were to put them side by side, the difference is night and day. Alec was wise, but he was a bully.”
“Some would say the same about Conor.”
She smiled, as if surprised by my honesty. “Conor speaks his mind. He doesn’t play nice with those he dislikes.”
“Like Reid,” I whispered, remembering how poorly he treated him at the party.
She frowned. “Oh, now Reid’s vicious in his own right.”
My lips flattened as I recalled the last year of pure misery. “I know.”
“Conor will try and hurt him. If Jem told him, and I’m sure he has judging by your face, he’ll have a target on his cousin, and he’ll make sure he pays for your mistreatment. That’s what Conor does.”
“I’ll tell him not to.”
“It won’t be that easy. He’ll make your problems his own. Like with your parents.”
I didn’t see that ever happening. They didn’t give a shit if I was alive or dead.
“Are you understanding the point I’m trying to make?” she asked me, delicately. She looked like she had trespassed on private territory – and she had – but I appreciated the warning and believed her reasons were understandable.
“I’ll keep my family out of it,” I told her solemnly. “I try to stay as far away, anyway.”
Now she cornered me with a more serious look, and it made my heart jump. She hadn’t finished, I realized. We were only getting closer to the point.
“What do you make of your stepbrother?” Her voice dropped lower, resolute to keep this between us.
White dots clouded my vision. I felt like I was suddenly breathing through a tiny tube. I tried to maintain my composure, but images of my last encounter with him in the bedroom flitted through my memory. I hadn’t seen him since I fled the house a month after my break-up, and he seemed just as determined to steer clear. Maybe it was his shame, or maybe I had just done a good job of it. I wasn’t going to try and find the answer.
“He’s not a problem,” I muttered weakly.
But Megan looked at me deeply like I had just confessed all the sins I’d ever committed. So that was where Conor got the look from. She had the ability to make me feel like I was utterly transparent, and I was panicked, knowing if she pushed any further, I wouldn’t know what to say and maybe I’d say too much.
I was not going to re-open that wound. I stressed that to myself right then. I physically couldn’t express it without having a full reaction. My stepbrother was a topic that was strictly off-limits.
To my surprise, she nodded once and let the topic die.
*
I wandered the home after a while. Megan had moved along talking to Ember, and Tricia was still waiting patiently on the couch, staring at the hallway entrance with anticipation. Megan’s father checked her out non-stop, even poked her bare back with his cane, and she was too focused to care, lightly slapping it away every time.
I was staring at a young photo of Conor on the wall when I felt someone coming up from behind me.
“His first motorcycle,” a deep voice said.
I didn’t look over my shoulder. I knew it was Max Locke already. You don’t forget a voice like his.
“How old was he?” I asked, trying to be casual. Truth was, I needed to be interested in the photo or else I’d have to look at him. For some reason, I didn’t feel brave enough to do that. He made me feel unsettled.
“Fifteen.”
Conor certainly didn’t look fifteen in the photo. He looked years older, but the dimples in his cheeks as he smiled into the camera was boyish and a dead giveaway.
“Isn’t that too young for a bike that big?” I said, but honestly, I was just grasping for conversation. It would be better than dead silence.
He came up beside me now, his suit jacket lightly brushing against my shoulder. He had a rich cologne. Not subtle like Conor’s. I supposed it was a forewarning: there was nothing subtle about Locke.
Don’t look.
Don’t look.
“We stole the bike. He didn’t have it long.”
I looked.
He was staring at the picture, memories dancing behind his deep brown eyes. Well-groomed, his suit was blue, his dress-top grey and bold. He dripped money right down to his socks, I bet. He looked down at me, a hint of a smile on his lips. Had he caught me ogling him? It wasn’t for the reasons he was probably thinking.
“Did he get caught?” I wondered, ignoring his charm.
“Oh, yeah. He went on a police chase. It lasted three hours.”
I cringed. Fucking Conor.
Locke turned to face me, catching my reaction. “Surprised?”
“I shouldn’t be.”
“You’ll find morals very far from Thames’ agenda.” He gestured to me. “For instance, he should have let you go home with Reid that night. You’d still be the apple of your school’s eye. What gossip would you have been privy to? What dress would you have picked out for Prom while shopping with Debbie Sue from Cosmetology class? What parties would you have been invited to?”
I didn’t know if he was being serious.
My spine straightened. “That sounds very shallow.”
“Everyone needs to be shallow before they’re thrown into the real world. It’s nice to exist on a false sense of hope for a short while. It’s the last of your innocence before it gets stripped away.”
I eyed him. “You sound bitter.”
He was surprised, which I’d come to learn was a rarity. “How?”
“Your words. It’s like you would have re-written that part of your life. People tend to hash advice when they’ve been burned.”
He just stared at me, all poker-faced. Zero emotion trespassed him. I had to smile because the silence spoke volumes.
“I take it I’m right?” I queried.
His gaze zoned in on my smile. A dark look eclipsed his eyes. Something bad lurked beneath the surface. My smile immediately slid off me, and my skin prickled. I wanted to take a giant step back – or a leap better yet – but I held off.
“You’re worse than Conor, aren’t you?” I whispered without restraint.
He wouldn’t stop staring at my mouth. “That depends.”
“On?”
“How bad I want something.”
I immediately returned my focus to the picture, dismissing him. I wasn’t going to press the matter. On a deeper level, I knew he was toying with me and waiting for me to bite. I wouldn’t, though. Whatever test he was putting me through, I would happily pass with flying colours.
I pined for a different man. A man without a suit. A man with eyes that reminded me of tropical waters and blue opal.
“Your old flame’s come through the door,” he stated suddenly. “The drama never ceases in this town, does it?”
I heard the door swing open. I stole a glance in its direction and, sure enough, Reid came through. Megan went rigid at the look of him and gave Locke a knowing look.
They’d known he was coming.
“It’s been a nice chat, sweetheart, but you’ll have to excuse me.” Locke strode away in the direction of Reid. I watched them exchange some words before Reid followed Locke out of the room. I stared back at the photo, a slight tremble in my legs as I pretended not to notice him walking past me.
Thames
Thames didn’t understand why his mother hadn’t re-done the basement. He’d thrown enough money at her over the years, enough she’d never have to work again. So, why did the basement look like a fucking medieval torture chamber?
He wasn’t being dramatic either. The concrete walls had claw marks on them. There were even holes in places, like there’d been shackles in them once upon a time. It was eerie and damp, windowless and below ground.
Legit, people had died here.
He was convinced it was part of a movie set. Maybe Quentin Tarantino was hiding behind a lens somewhere.
As they sat around the ancient table, he looked up at the swinging bulb over them. Every time someone walked over it, it flickered and swayed. He could have sworn elephants were fucking right above them.
“You listening to me?” Jem pressed, sounding annoyed.
Thames pointed to the ceiling. “I’m hard of hearing.”
“Serious?”
“I’m sensitive about it, Jem.”
“You got ADHD?”
Jesus Christ. “Where’s your fucking humour?”
“Are we going to knuckle down and start the shop up again, Thames? Yes or no.”
Thames leaned back in his rickety chair. It stressed so bad, it nearly gave out. He sat up again because fuck it.
“I just got out of prison,” he returned. “I’m dog fucking tired, Jem.”
“The only reason I ask is because I just got word that Dave’s been pushing hard all of a sudden.”
What was this fucking obsession with his uncle?
“Dave’s a novice,” he retorted. “He pays derelicts pennies to boost cars from rich neighbourhoods and then he dumps them in car yards thinking he’s doing it on the sly. That shit is not going to go unnoticed. Why the fuck you looking so surprised?”
“How’d you know that? I never said that this morning.”
Thames smirked. “Because I’ve been around low-level idiots the past two years. Because in the last eight months, I’ve had a bunch of fucking morons tell me they’ve been caught boosting in Blackwater, and they don’t know the name of the guy they’re boosting for. On that note, there’s a fucking granny farm I need to jack.”
Jem gave him a look. “A farm?”
Thames raised a hand and shook his head at Jem in warning. “It’s not something I want to talk about, Jem. I just need to jack this fucking farm.”
“That can wait.”
But he really wanted to silence those sissy bitches in prison.
Thames went to lean back, and the chair screeched in plastic agony. He sat up again. Fucker. “I was happy to cover for you. I spent eight months in prison confident we weren’t going to be found out. I was fucking pumped when I walked out of the gates and you told the shop was set up. I’m willing to go back to the shop, but we have to lay low for a while. If what you’re saying is true, my uncle’s going to be making a mess out of whatever shit he’s brewing, and the cops will be knuckling down hard. We have to wait for Dave to fuck up or give up.”
“What if neither happens?”
“We’ll play dirty.”
“I can’t run my name through the mud, Conor. Half of us already have a rap sheet longer than my arm. The banks won’t touch me with a dirty name.”
“That’s why I deal with cash.”
“That’s not an option for me.” Jem sighed and, letting his guard down, he leaned his full weight back in his rickety chair and it snapped. Losing balance, he yelped and fell, slamming into the ground, half the chair flying with him.
Thames laughed. “The fucking look on your face, Jem. It’s like you saw Jesus.”
“Fuck off,” Jem roared, scrambling up to his feet. He stood over the broken chair and spread his arms wide. “Why does your mother have these cheap ass fucking chairs, Thames? This is a fucking set-up.”
Thames couldn’t respond. He pressed a hand against his face, laughing hard into it. Jem choked back a laugh, attempting to suppress it but failing.
“This is fucking stupid,” he cursed, trying to be serious. “We’re talking secrets in a
fucking basement on plastic fucking chairs. I feel like an eight-year-old girl whispering secrets on the corners of Blackwater elementary.”
“You’re referring to Patty Newman?”
“She spread rumours I was an assassin.”
“Fuck Patty and her bullshit.”
“Nobody played with me for a whole year.”
“I did.”
“Because you were a reject, like me.”
“Look, this is on you, man. I just came here to see all my friends.”
Jem looked disgusted. “Fuck off, your friends my ass. You wouldn’t have come here if your mother didn’t show up at your place.”
“Are you to blame for the cockblock?”
“I’m not that cold. That was your mom through and through.”
“Shouldn’t have let her slip past you.”
“She blinded me with her apple pie.”
Megan Thames acting like a domestic goddess. It was like watching the evil queen play nice. Thames could have had a field day with this utter bullshittery. Instead, he let it pass.
The door opened and heavy steps descended the staircase.
Thoroughly cringing, Jem huffed. “Aw, great, Locke’s here now.”
Thames dropped his hand to look. Locke strode to them with…Was that…Was that fucking Reid? Locke’s lips curved up, reading Thames’ amusement.
Now this was unpredictable.
Thames liked a bit of spontaneous fun.
“Well, shit,” Thames whistled, looking his fuckboy cousin over. “Your ears burning, Reid? We were just talking about your old man.”
Reid stopped in front of him. He looked less afraid this time around. Adorable little cunt grew an extra inch on his spine, it seemed. That was fine. Thames would snap it, play a fiddle with it too, and then shove it up his fucking ass.
“My dad sent me,” he declared. “He wants to talk to you, extend a peace offering.”
“Peace?” Thames repeated, brows up. “I wasn’t aware we were at war, sweet cousin of mine.”
Reid glanced over his shoulder at Jem and Locke, standing a few feet behind him. Did the pussy think they were going to jump his ass? That wasn’t Thames’ style. He wouldn’t send someone else to do his dirty work. He found it more amusing Reid would jump to conclusions like that. Kind of like he knew he deserved a good beating, or knew what he did to deserve it.
