The Rage

by Jaci J.

  Kash won’t be a whole lot of help, but if shit goes down, he can still shoot a gun. He’ll be better off there, keeping an eye on the family and getting the rest he needs, than being here in a fight.

  We get that shit locked down and get down to business. We discuss how to handle our little buddies. We figure some shit out and we hammer out a plan.

  “We gotta be careful. Those fuckers play dirty. Been avoidin’ this shit for years now, but since Rampage decided to throw down, we’re throwin’ down.” Tank says.

  Don’t know why that fucker is acting like that wasn’t exactly what he would have done if it would have been Sis. That asshole would have shot every last one of them. He’s crazy that way.

  “Stop fuckin’ throwin’ accusations my way. Didn’t do shit you wouldn’t have done. Let’s not forget, he wasn’t flyin’ his colors. I wanted to kill Ryan, but I knew he was into them for a shitload of money, so I’m pissed that I didn’t just shoot them all and be done with it.”

  “Calm your panties, asshole.”

  “My panties. I’ll show you panties, asshole,” I mutter under my breath. Tank throws his head back and laughs like an insane idiot. Slamming down the gavel, he shoves away from the table and announces loudly, “This shit’s done. We kill ‘em when we see ‘em. Now, let’s get the fuck outta here. I need some pussy.”

  ****

  Tonight is the night. Told Lala I’d take her to my place, so that’s what I’m doing. We’ve been held up at the club and it’ll only be getting worse here soon. I’m guessing she needs that space thing woman are always bitching about. Figured I’d bring her here before she starts complaining. When I told her, she got all excited. Don’t know what she’s excited about. My house ain’t nothing to get excited about. She’s going to be disappointed if she thinks she’s getting Sis and Tank’s place, or Gin and Peaches, but Lala wants that shit, so like everything else, imma give it to her.

  “You ready, baby?” She smiles at me and nods. She’s pretty damn good with this whole riding on the back of my bike thing. I get on and she’s right there behind me, pressing that perfect body up against mine, hands around my waist. It never fails to make my dick hard. Thinking I’m gonna fuck her on the bike real fuckin’ soon. Leaning into me, I know she’s ready when her weight rests on me. Starting my bike up, we pull out.

  Kicking the front door open with my foot, I let Lala in first. This place was my grandma’s. She died before I was born and left it to my mom. When my mom died, it became mine. Not much of a place, but it has a roof, walls, and a foundation. It took me two years after mom died to come back here. Still don’t spend much time here.

  The day I turned eighteen, I cleared out the entire house, throwing every single fucking piece of furniture, plates, pots, and pictures, out. I have two things that were my mom’s; a photo album and a ring, and those things aren’t even here. They’re stored in the safe at the club. Other than that, I have nothing from my shit childhood. I fucking like it that way. No need to hold onto that shit.

  “This is the front room.” Not that you could tell with its lack of non-existent furniture. Not a single piece of furniture in this room. No need, there’s no use for it.

  “Where do you sit? Where do you relax?” She asks. Looking around, she seems confused.

  “I don’t.”

  “So you sit on the floor?” she retorts. Fucking smart-ass.

  “Sure the fuck don’t, Lala.”

  “You stand in here then?” She does this shit just to fuck with me, because that smile gives her away.

  “Yeah, baby. I just lean up against the wall ‘n stare out the fuckin’ window.” Her laugh is soft, almost musical. It’s that laugh that gets to me. It’s so fucking hard not to stop and listen to her. I enjoy that shit.

  “Sounds comfortable.”

  “Fuckin’ smart-ass” Her eyes widen as her hands fly to her chest. A dramatic gasp leaves those lips, and I can’t help but wonder why is it that Lala can make me smile. I’ve got shit running through my head. I’m plotting deaths and shit, but here I am, laughing and smiling with her.

  “Me?” she laughs.

  “Yes, you.” Women. Never understood them, but I think I’m getting the hang of this one. Fuck, I hope so, at least.

  “This is the bedroom.”

  “Never would have known that, considering the bed is the only thing in here.”

  That’s it. Coming up behind her, I scoop her ass up by the hips and toss her smart-assed mouth onto the bed, “Still feel like givin’ lip, babe?”

  “Kinda like the no furniture look. I can decorate it.”

  Whoa, whoa. Back the fuck up. This is not turning into that. Looking all excited and enthusiastic about the idea, I don’t tell her no, but she starts bringing in curtains and shit, I’m putting a fucking stop to it.

  ****

  Lying in bed, Lala’s got her leg thrown over mine and her head propped up on my shoulder. We got the TV on, I got a smoke in my hand and a drink in the other. She fed me, and now we’re just relaxin’, watching shit TV.

  “Rampage?”

  “Lala,” I counter. She hesitates for a second. That brief hesitation’s never good.

  “Why are you taking care of me?” Taking care of her? She’s not a fucking infant.

  “I’m not.”

  “You are. You’re helping me. You gave me a car and a place to stay. Why?”

  “Why?”

  “Yes, why? Is it because we’re having sex?”

  Not even fucking close. Sex is not a good enough reason to go through all of this shit. Sex with Lala is good shit, the best shit I’ve ever had, but it wouldn’t be the reason I do this shit. I started doing this shit before I fucked her, anyway. I’m not sure why though. It’s not like she’s broken or lost. I know she can take care of herself. Maybe for the first time in my life, I feel like I’ve got some sort of purpose, other than hurting people. Feels good to have someone need me, and I like that she really wants me. I’ve got a reason to do good shit for someone. For once in my life, I give a fuck about someone other than myself and it’s nice.

  “Don’t know, Lala.”

  “Well I hope you know I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” Wrapping an arm around my stomach, she tugs me close to her and sighs. Never in my life have words and a touch from someone hit a nerve. I’ve been called terrible shit. Bitches have told me they love me. I’ve been fucked over. I’ve had people do nice shit for me. None of it did shit for me. Lala says one thing, one goddamn thing, and that shit settles in my heart.

  Lala

  “Got shit to handle, baby.”

  Rampage is tense. Sitting on the edge of the bed at the club, I watch him tug on his jeans. Throwing on a gray shirt, he sits down next to me to slip on his boots.

  “You stay here, you hear me? Not a foot outside. Got some shit goin’ down so we’re on lockdown, baby.”

  “Lockdown?” Narrowing his eyes, his face morphs into hard and serious when I ask.

  “Yeah, Lala. Lockdown. Means your ass stays in this club. Not a single part of your body steps foot out this motherfucker, you got me?” Nodding, I feel a trickle of fear settle in. “No, baby. I need those juicy lips letting me know you got me.”

  “I understand, Rampage.”

  “I want your ass alive when I get back here.”

  Following Rampage back into common area, I hear a woman hollering. Looking over his shoulder at me, Rampage groans and mutters, “Peaches.” I’m starting to learn that just her name means trouble.

  Peaches is in the middle of the room hollering at Gin, hands flying all over the place, “I ain’t goin’ nowhere. What the fuck you tryin’ to get rid of me for?” Gin looks bored and tired. His head hangs down and his shoulders are slumped.

  Scrubbing a hand down his face, he sighs and looks over at Tank, “Help me out here because I wanna smack her.”

  “Peaches, you’re goin’ whether you like it or not. You get no say. When you wake up tomorrow, alive, you
’ll thank us, but right now, you need to shut the fuck up. I need you to help take care of my boy, so pack a bag and get in the goddamn car.”

  Whipping her head around, she shoots daggers at Gin, “I’ll do this for Ty, but when I get back, I’m gonna kill you,” she hollers and stomps off.

  I’m free to roam about the club. It’s big, but not nearly big enough to keep me occupied for longer than a few hours. It’s going on eight hours now since they left. Rampage and the majority of the guys left at 7 this morning. I’ve never seen them get up so early. It’s now four in the afternoon, and I’m feeling cabin fever set in. Only when someone tells you you can’t do something is when you want to do it. I really want to get out and do something.

  “This is pretty boring.”

  “This is nothin’. We’ve had lockdowns for days, weeks even.” Weeks? Nothing about that sounds fun or exciting. I really like being here, but I don’t think I like it that much.

  “That’s insane.”

  “You’ve no fucking clue. Insane doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

  “You girls whine to goddamn much,” Stitch grumbles. Him, Blade, and Happy stayed back with us. Some guys took off and some rode out to the mountains to get the kids somewhere safe, just in case. Stitch, Happy and Blade look as bored as we do.

  We worked on schoolwork, we played pool, cooked some food, even baked a few batches of brownies and chocolate chip cookies. We painted our nails, drank some shots and had a dance off that ended in hysterical laughter. Now we’re all lying around watching scary movies. We’re all bored. I was surprised that Lil stayed instead of going with Ty. She said that she trusted the girls with his life, and she needed to be here for Tank, too. She felt a lot better when she got the call that they made it safely, and that everything went exactly how they had planned it.

  Walking down the long hallway to Rampage’s room, I’m headed for the bathroom when I hear a loud bang that makes me jump, then silence. I stop and listen, but I don’t hear anything else, so figuring it’s nothing, I keep walking. I make it a few more steps and I hear it again, but this time it’s louder, followed by another pop. I don’t have time to process because suddenly, all hell breaks loose.

  The lights cut out and I can’t see anything. My heart leaps into my throat and adrenaline starts to pump through my blood. My eyes fight to adjust to the sudden darkness, and I try to decide if I should go back into the main room, or go to Rampage’s room when gun shots ring out. I don’t have time to make a decision, I hear a woman scream and men shouting, so I creep my way back toward the main room. I watch for everything around me, adjusting my eyes the best that I can, keeping my senses keen and ready. I listen and pay attention, trying my hardest to make sense of what’s happening. My hand and body stay flat to the wall as I move slowly. The closer I draw to the main room, the louder everything becomes.

  People are yelling, shit’s breaking and I hear more gun shots. In the darkness, the sounds are coming from every direction. Without being able to see, the noise and my unfamiliarity of the club makes it disorienting and hard to focus, but my feet keep propelling me on. My hands find the end of the wall and I know this is it. I can’t turn back now.

  Peeking my head around the corner, I can’t see much. I know the basic layout of the room. I know faces, but silhouettes are unreadable to me. I see shadowed bodies, but none I can recognize, some standing, some crawling, and others moving about.

  Two deafening pops are followed by flashes of light, illuminating everything for a brief moment before darkness falls again. Two big bodies hit the ground in the middle of the room. I have no time to process.

  Over by the bar, I look hard and see that Stitch is on the ground. I hear Lil’s frantic and disembodied voice, and something clicks. I’m not scared. I’m not sad. I’m surviving. I’m moving on instinct now.

  Stepping around the wall to a pool table, I crouch down behind it. Looking around a leg, I see Lil leaning over Stitch behind the bar. Looking up at me, her eyes are wide and wild when they lock onto mine. She starts to shake her head no frantically and pointing back to the hall, but it’s too late. I’m not leaving her here alone. Taking a deep breath, I dart over to her.

  Her hand is pressed to Stitch’s thigh, and blood is all over her shaky hands.

  “Lala? It’s alright,” Her voice shakes, but she’s okay. “He’s bleeding, though…” She says, but her eyes go wide when she speaks, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she pants. I don’t have time to respond. Someone rips on my shirt.

  The neck on my shirt compresses to my neck, cutting of my air supply. I wiggle around, still crouched down while the person stands over me, tugging on my shirt, trying to pull me up to my feet.

  “Up bitch!” Lifting up my arms, by some miracle, I manage to slip out of my shirt. I grab onto the barstool next to me for support, but I still land on my ass as my head connects with the bar. A dull thud and ache rattle about, but I can breathe. I scramble away on my ass, scooting along the floor behind the bar, trying to get away.

  “Knew you’d be here, Lailah,” a deep voice says. It’s not a voice I recognize, but they know my name. “Lala,” Lil whispers, trying to find me.

  “I’m takin’ you with me,” another says. He raises his gun, aiming it straight at Lil’s head, grabbing her hair, ready to drag her out of here. It won’t happen again. A sick memory floods me suddenly and that sick survival instinct I was born with kicks in.

  “You’re gonna like it, you stupid bitch.” The overwhelming smell of liquor and morning breath assaults my face and nose. I try to turn my head, but the dirty smell of the couch is not much better with puke and stale beer. His hard, unfamiliar body presses mine into the couch. Grinding on me. Touching me. The wood of the old broken couch presses painfully into my back. I hit, smack, try to wiggle away from him but I’m getting nowhere.

  “Keep struggling’, bitch!” My fight makes this more enjoyable for him. He wants to rape me. He thinks he can talk me into wanting it, but the idea repulses me.

  “Please don’t,” I’m not sure why I try. He doesn’t care what I have no say.

  “Shut up!” His scratchy, dry lips kiss down my neck to my chest. It’s do or die, so I give in, letting my body go soft. I give him what he wants… submission.

  “That’s right. Knew you wanted it, slut. Just like your momma, huh?” Running my hands down his back, I pretend to want it. It’s sick. I moan like I want it. I let my fingers feel his skin and I touch him. I touch him until I can’t take it anymore. I feel the cold metal on my fingertips. It’s do or die time. I pull the gun out of his pants, raise it up and pull the trigger. One shot under the chin. I did it and he died. I wasn’t going to let it be him, so I chose me.

  The bat. I remember that bat. I remember watching Gin sit it behind the bar. Reaching a hand out, I feel for it as I push away. I search, praying I find it and again, just like so long ago, my fingertips find cool metal. Not a gun, but a bat, and now it’s do or die time. I’ll work with anything.

  Grabbing it, I push off the floor, ready the bat and go. I don’t even hesitate. It’s them or us. I make it straight for the first guy, bringing the bat over my head and swinging it back down as hard as I can. A crack sounds as metal meets skull and flesh. The force of the hit makes my hands ache. There is no noise from him as his body falls to the ground.

  “Lailah!” Lil screams.

  Spinning around, the man who had Lil charges at me. Holding the bat in a perfect batting position, I swing and connect to the side of his face. He goes down but I’m not done. I hit him, again and again. I hit him until my arms tremble from exhaustion. I hit him until I know my hands will blister from the metal rubbing on my skin. I hit him until I win.

  “Lala, baby!”

  There’s more hell. More shouting. More voices. I can hear my mom screaming at me over and over again in my head, “Why’d you do it?” “Why?” “You stupid little girl! You stupid fucking girl!” I did it because I had to. I wanted to.

  “Lala!�
� Hands touch my shoulders and I jump. Swinging around, I bring the bat up.

  “Lailah!” Lil screams, “Stop!” Taking a few retreating steps back, I notice a few lights are back on. It’s a dull, muted light, but I can see.

  Stitch is leaning against the bar with Lil still kneeling beside him, holding her hand against his wound. Tank is standing in front of me with wide eyes, while Happy is shouting into a phone. Swinging my eyes toward the door, I find Rampage. He’s holding a blood soaked towel to his shoulder. Dropping the bat, my hands start to shake. They were going to kill the closest thing I have to a family. I will not feel bad for what I did here tonight. I won. We won.

  14

  Bullets & Bats

  Rampage

  I walked in on pure fucking insanity. People everywhere. Blood, broken shit, no power, people screaming. A fucking mess. The only thing I could focus on was the terrifying sight across the room. She had that bat raised high, and I watched her bring it down repeatedly, hitting her mark each time. She had perfect accuracy with each blow, like she knew exactly where she was gonna hit him. There’s blood and brain splattered on her from head to toe.

  There’s a guy on the ground a few feet away from her, head bashed in, and the guy she’s beating on now is damaged beyond recognition.

  “Lala!” I can see crazy shit written all over her face. Pure, raw fucking emotion. She’s not scared or remorseful. She looks like a stone cold killer, “Stop her, goddammit,” I yell at Tank. He’s the closest one to her. Tank grabs her and I watch her pull back, ready to land him with the bat. Lil screams, “Stop!” just as the lights cut on. Lala takes a few steps back and drops the bat by her feet. Looking around she starts to shake, but I’ve yet to see any fear.

  “Lala, baby!” Her wide, blue eyes snap up, finding me.