by Evelyn Glass
“I’m good. Jason might, though.”
“Fuck you.” Jason laughed and downed his drink in a single gulp, his throat widening as the liquor slid down effortlessly. He slammed his glass down. “Captain Crunch can go fuck himself!”
“Fuckin’ right.” Val added, looking pleased as he laughed at Jason’s blustery humor. He had been that way since they showed up at his door two days ago. As Jason had said, Val had opened his doors to the three of them with extravagant hospitality.
From the outside, you wouldn’t take his home to be anything other than a hobby farm on the outskirts of Detroit, a little south of Ray Township. There was a barn even, all coloring book red and white with actual cows and chickens. Scott had been woken up by those chickens, as well as enjoying them at the large meals Val’s old lady was more than happy to stuff them with. Everything was big in this home.
Despite the rustic exterior, Val had filled his house with exactly the kind of toys you’d expect an overgrown child, with a lot of money and power, to collect. There were 3D televisions, leather armchairs with massage functions, wall sized aquariums, glowing Coke machines packed with beer, and a basement equipped with a Japanese sauna and retro video game machines. It was a playground, a shining, perfect, example of exactly how powerful this man really was.
The three of them were sitting around the, no doubt highly expensive, antique Formica table in Val’s kitchen. Still messy and smelling of last night’s fried chicken buffet, the kitchen was filled with the sound of Val’s countless dogs and children screaming and howling at each other from the living room.
Val put his cigarette down and leaned back in his chair to better yell down the hallway. “Keep it down in there!” he bellowed, though there was a smile on his face as he did. There were a few giggles and the sound of thumping feet as the kids ran upstairs. Val shrugged and picked up his smoke again. “Family…” He watched Scott nurse his bourbon through a cloud of smoke. “Not a day drinker, are you kid?”
“Too much chicken last night.” Not to mention it’s only nine o’clock in the morning. Scott swallowed the last of the liquor under the boss’s watchful eye.
Val paused as if determining whether to accept his answer or not. “Maisie makes a wicked hen, all right.” He turned his attention to Jason, all flame hair and enthusiasm, across from him. “Let’s get some shit sorted out, kids. First things first… ” He leaned forward and filled their glasses again. “You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Luke’s series of fuck ups. He went over my head. Got involved in something real ugly that I didn’t approve of.”
He paused again and Scott kept his face carefully neutral. Jesus, does every boss go for the dramatic pauses?
“We can’t let that happen again. No girls. ” He punctuated his statement by pointing aggressive at them. “We do drugs, we do fucking guns, but we don’t do girls. That was Luke’s mistake.”
“Girls…like hookers?” Jason asked.
Val looked at Jason with annoyance. “No, Girl Scouts. Of course fucking hookers. What the hell do you guys do in Atlanta?” Val downed his drink without a flinch. “You see, Luke had an entire side business going on without my knowledge. He took some of my men, and a lot of my influence, and was keeping a joint for himself in the city. He was doing some sick shit, too.”
Jason and Scott exchanged glances across the table. Val rubbed his beard vigorously as if trying to shake unwanted images from of his mind. “He roughed girls up, cut a few up. Killed a few, too, but not until he had played with them for a bit. Eventually decided it…uh…” he took a deep drag from his cigarette, picking it up from where it had been spiraling smoke from the ashtray. “Decided it would be fun to try his tricks out on regular girls, ones who didn’t get paid for it. Ones who didn’t deserve it.”
“So you offed him?” Jason asked with his typical tact.
Val rubbed his beard even harder. No matter how hard he screwed his face up, Scott could make out a strong emotion in his face. There was a sticky story here. Val was silent for a while, the room quiet except for the tapping of his finger against the sparkling white tabletop.
Jason and Scott looked at each other again, unsure what was expected from them. Not knowing how to break the silence, they waited for Val to speak again.
Val finally cleared his throat. “Someone did it for us.” He looked at them both, his eyes steady and ferocious. “And that won’t happen again. You guys behave yourself, learn how we do business up here, work hard, and you’ll own this fucking town. Get out of line and I’ll retire you with my own hands. Get it?”
Jason leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest for effect. “We don’t get out of line and we don’t fuck up. You have my word.”
Val nodded slowly and turned to Scott. “What about you? Do I have your word?”
Scott spoke without hesitation. “Absolutely.”
Val slapped his massive hand down. It was all Scott could do to keep himself from jumping in his chair. He hadn’t slept very much lately and it was starting to show. Ever since he dropped Jess off, and watched her disappear into her apartment, he hadn’t been able to think of much of anything else. For all he knew, she had unhinged him. Twice in as many days he’d ridden down the almost deserted street just to pass her house. He hadn’t brought himself to park across the street and stalk her quite yet, but he was getting pretty close.
“Let’s head outside and you can check out my collection. There’s some gorgeous old ladies out there waiting for you guys to take them for a spin,” Val said, crushing out his cigarette as he rose.
***
After a couple more drinks, and an hour of listening to Val detail the history of his impressive bike collection, Scott was itching to get away. The man owned everything, and everything was in ideal condition, restored, mastered, and just salivating for him to pay attention to.
For Scott, that got old pretty damn quick. As powerful as Val obviously was, ass kissing bored him. Watching Jason do it was only amusing for so long, then it was a matter of him trying to control his general air of annoyance for the rest of the visit. Just nod your head, smile, and look amazed, he told himself. By the time they left the climate-controlled garage and made their way back to where their own bikes were parked, it was almost noon.
Jason had worked his ass off to impress Val and, as a result, was more than half drunk, his arm wrapped around Scott’s shoulders. “It’s going to be good, Scott. This is going to work out for us just fine. You see the kind of shit that guy has? That’s going to be ours, man. ”
“I’m pleased as punch,” Scott murmured, fishing his keys out of his back pocket. Just what he needed, more false enthusiasm and rah, rah, rah.
Jason stopped him. “You better be. We don’t have a choice but to be. You get that, don’t you?”
“Yeah, sure. I get it.”
“We step out of line and we’ll end up like that Luke asshole dude. I don’t know what they did to him, but one minute he was the top of the heap, and the next.” He snapped his fingers. “Gone. And from what I heard it wasn’t pretty. You get that? We need to play by the rules. This is top shelf business here, Scott.”
Scott found himself starting to get annoyed at the drunken little ginger that was suddenly up in his face. “What are you talking about?” he scowled. “I always play by the rules.”
“That girl you took off with the other night? She’s out of the lines, brother. Far out.”
Scott stopped in his tracks. “How the hell… ”
“It’s no big mystery fuck-face. You pulled your gun out. Everyone saw it and everyone saw you leave. She’s Val’s niece, Scott. Surprise! Get it? She’s fucking Grim Angels’ royalty. You gotta keep it in your pants and stay the hell away from her or you’ll fuck everything up for us.”
Scott’s stomach dropped. That’s what she meant by connected. Connected was an understatement. Grimacing, he started moving again. “What’s the deal? Nobody thinks I’m good enough for her? That’s bullsh
it. I just got here.”
“It’s not you, Prada. It’s Val. He doesn’t want her involved in anything. He wants her completely out of the picture. White picket fence, lawyer husband, that kind of thing. That was one of the first things that giant fucker told me.”
If it were possible, Scott’s stomach clenched even more. He didn’t like being told what to do most of the time anyway, but this, being told that incredible girl was off limits? Maybe loyalty to the Grim Angels wasn’t worth the trouble. He had to steady his voice when he spoke. “She’s related. How the fuck is he going to protect her from anything? She’s a part of this.” He stopped walking again and gestured to the pastoral landscape and all its high-end bells and whistles.
Jason stopped walking and doubled back to where Scott stood, his arms limp at his sides in disbelief. Jason came up close to him, his voice low. “I didn’t want to say anything at the table, I couldn’t. Val would lose his shit. But it doesn’t take long to get the real dirt around here. I didn’t get the whole story, but that girl was tied up with Luke and something happened. Something bad.” He raised both hands up in typically dramatic plea for innocence. “That’s all I got. That’s all I could get.”
Jason watched his friend’s face freeze over. He knew that expression. The light went out behind Scott’s eyes as he strode toward his bike.
“Aw fuck…” Jason hissed. He took off after him, taking him by the arm, but Scott shook him off and mounted his bike. “She’s a mess of trouble, Scott! Stay the hell away from her!”
Scott shot Jason a final withering look before starting the bike, spinning it around, and bellowing off down the gravel path, sending up a cloud of dust and gravel in his wake. Jason had the terrible feeling he was going to be leaving a lot worse in his wake by the time this was over.
Chapter Thirteen
Jess looked around the empty café. It wasn’t busy. Was it ever busy when the Angels weren’t around? She had been so naïve when she was younger, believing that somehow the two or three customers they had all day was enough to keep her mother’s business afloat. Now she knew differently. It wasn’t the burgers that kept the café going.
She pushed her hair behind her ear and continued filling the sugar dispensers. She had a bowl of rice beside her that she plucked grains from to place in the shakers as she worked. It was a banal task, but then she was locked in a life of banal tasks, probably indefinitely. And whose fault was that?
“Thanks for the coffee.” The one customer she had all morning waved at her as he left, setting the bell ringing as he walked outside. An ancient old man who lived somewhere in the neighborhood had come in and counted his coins out on the counter with his shaking hands. He barely had enough for toast, but Jess had set him up with a full breakfast and coffee. She smiled. He was the only regular, stopping in once or twice a week. It was sad, but kind of sweet, that he actually believed the three dollars he had given her was enough to cover the whole meal. Her mother would never miss it, and the food would spoil if it weren’t cooked, so what was the harm?
Now that the old man had left, she abandoned her sugar duties and went to pick up the dirty dishes, happy to have something else to do with her day. It was hard for her to think of anything else but Scott since that night, and spending her days in a dead little café in the middle of nowhere didn’t help much. At the most inopportune moments she would remember the taste of him so clearly that it was as if he was still kissing her. She could feel him grinding against her and see the twist of his mouth. More than once she had to stop herself from racing out into the street to hunt him down, wanting to tell him everything and see if he stayed. Anything to stop the circle of obsession she was caught in. Scott, with the too pretty face and long fingers. Scott, the one she wasn’t allowed to have. Scott, with the history of doing bad things. But how bad? Could it be any worse than hers?
She took the egg-smeared plate into the kitchen to wash it. That was at least the next few minutes taken care of. Maybe now, focusing on the plate, she could have a break from rehearsing her speech to him should she ever see him again. Sighing, she started the water and was about to rinse the plate when she heard the jangling bell on the door again. She wiped her wet hands on her apron.
“Wow. Two customers in an hour,” she mumbled.
Maybe a big rush would hit out of nowhere and really give her some distraction. She swung open the door into the dining room and her heart stopped. Scott stood in the center of the room. Her Scott. More electric than she remembered, he filled up her mother’s café more than a lunch rush ever could. Her first instinct was to rush at him and throw herself at him, straddle him in one of the booths and scream her secrets into his mouth. Her second was to fix her hair. Awkwardly she pulled her hair up and twisted it to form a messy bun, trying to still her shaking hands.
“I’ll get you a coffee.” It was all she could think to say. If she kept moving then maybe he wouldn’t notice the effect he had on her. She fumbled with the porcelain cup and saucer, the too loud clink filling the empty restaurant.
“You’re Val Ingersson’s niece,” he said.
She froze, her hand still reaching for the coffee pot. This was it then. She searched her head for her well planned and rehearsed speech, but came up blank. “I told you I was connected,” she said finally. She poured his coffee as she tried to start breathing again, and brought it to him. It sat on the counter between them, untouched, a black circle in a stained white mug.
“What did you do Jessica… Jess? I’m sorry, but you need to tell me. What kind of trouble did you get into?”
She was shocked to hear the emotion in his voice as he stood there, his eyes searching hers.
“Did that… that Luke, did he hurt you?”
Jess took a deep breath. Scott’s question knocked a hole open in her and she was going to fill it. When she spoke, she was strangely calm. In her dreams she had screamed it, howled it into the sky. Actually saying the words, however, saying them so someone else could hear them, was entirely different. How could she explain it? The adrenaline, the pain, the fact that she did it and her only punishment was having to keep it a secret. She snorted. One of the benefits of being a part of the Grim Angels.
“I killed him,” she said. He said nothing. What did she expect him to say anyway? Good for you? You horrible bitch? You despicable murderer?
Instead, Scott eased himself onto a counter stool and pulled the cup of coffee toward him. Carefully and methodically he poured sugar into it.
Jess coughed nervously. She raised her hand to her mouth but put it down again when she saw how badly she shook. “I went to his house and I killed him.”
“Got any cream?” he asked.
Numbly, Jess passed him a bowl of creamers and watched as he dumped one, then a second, into his coffee, the cream spreading out in the black. He took a spoon and stirred, then sipped. “Why?"
“I knew he was cheating on me. Not that I cared. He wasn’t good to me but everyone expected me to… Never mind. It was like dating a celebrity. I tried to tell people about him, but no one believed me. Luke… ” Jess hadn’t said his name in a year and it caught in her throat, making her feel like choking. “I didn’t know about the prostitutes, but I should’ve. All I knew was he was…” She paused, trying to find a word for it. “Seeing other girls. Girls I knew wanted to be a part of the Angels. Girls who would do anything. Things I wouldn’t do.” She saw Scott stiffen.
He wouldn’t look at her. “Things like what?”
“Things that hurt.” The words fell between them, as real and as solid as that cup of coffee.
Scott nodded.
She could tell he was working hard to maintain a neutral expression. She could see it in the way his mouth twitched between sips of coffee. “I…” Jess stopped. Suddenly far from calm, she felt as if her stomach were going to crawl its way up into her throat to stop her talking, to strangle her where she stood. “I followed him to one of the girl’s houses. She was younger than me. I didn’t even kno
w her name.” Her voice cracked. “I stood outside, getting madder and madder that he was fucking some other chick. I finally decided to catch them and confront him. The door wasn’t locked. By the time I got there, it was too late. I found her in the bedroom. He’d…torn her apart. Really, torn her apart.”
She felt tears start to slip down her cheeks but she didn’t brush them away. She didn’t look at Scott, she didn’t move, she had to finish the story. She had to drag all those gruesome images into the light. She had to remember how good that knife had felt in her hand when she had finally got ahold of it. She laid her hand, the same one she had used to kill him, on the counter to steady herself and was surprised when he reached out and laid his hand on top.
“How did you do it?”
She looked up and found him staring at her, clear eyed. Obviously he’d had conversations like this before. Why was she shocked? Of course he had. “He came back in the room. He was nude and still covered in her blood. I think he was fucking her as he killed her. He still had the knife with him. I tried to run, but he cut me when I tried to get past him. I didn’t even feel it. I didn’t feel anything. He was going to kill me and I was trying to get away. I managed to push him off me when he slipped on… slipped in her blood. He dropped the knife when he fell. I grabbed it and I killed him. I killed him, Scott! I don’t know how many times I stabbed him, but when I left the house I just ran.” The tears were streaming now, her chest hitching.
