by London Casey
That always pissed Jim off.
There was no response though.
I walked down the entrance hall - the one with the same pictures of me and Jim hanging on the wall.
Cut to the left and I was in Jim’s part of the house. Jim had a master bedroom suite right off the living room. Basically Dad took a two story home and built a ranch style off the side of it. That was Jim’s part of the house.
I walked through the kitchen and saw the pile of dishes in the sink. I usually gave it a day or two before I stepped in. I walked over and saw a cluster of fruit flies scatter from a pan with crusted pasta sauce stuck to it.
I turned and noticed the small cabinet that held the microwave was open.
That’s where Jim kept his booze.
“Shit,” I whispered.
Some days dealing with Jim were hard enough, but when he got to drinking, it was worse. He would just spout off whatever was on his mind, no filter. He could get mean. He could get upset. He could tell stories of what he saw.
I almost wished I stayed for my own second glass of wine with Maggie.
I entered the living room and the TV was on. I saw Jim on the couch, his head propped up beyond the couch.
“Jim?” I called out.
No response.
I took a few steps forward and feared the worst. I feared the demons that had followed him back home were going to get him.
When I saw Jim’s head slump to right, a bottle in his hand, his mouth open, I froze.
I said the first thing that came to mind.
“He’s not breathing.”
**
I dropped down and grabbed the bottle of whiskey out of his hand. It was almost empty. I had no idea if the bottle was full or not when he started drinking. I touched his stomach and swore I felt nothing moving. I jabbed my fingers into his neck for a pulse.
There was a pulse.
His stomach then made a fluttering motion.
Jim let out growl and swatted his shoulder at me.
“Jim!” I yelled and slapped his face. “Open your eyes.”
His eyes tried to open and he looked at me. “What… what are you…”
“It’s Belle,” I said. “Why are you doing drinking so much?”
Jim grinned. “Boom. Boom. All in my head.”
He tried to move his left hand but it was like he was paralyzed.
I inched back and saw that he’d taken off his prosthetic leg. It wasn’t placed beside him but across the room. He probably got mad and threw it.
“Come on, lay down,” I said. “You damn fool.”
I stood up and Jim grabbed my arm. His eyes opened. “It hurt.”
“What hurt?”
“My leg, Belle…”
“Did you bump your leg or something?”
Sometimes Jim would be stubborn and try to do too much with a prosthetic leg and hurt himself.
“Here,” he said and grabbed for the empty leg of his jeans.
“There’s…”
I almost said there’s nothing there.
But I knew better.
Sometimes Jim would have nightmares and wake up with his missing leg in pain. Doctors called it a phantom limb. There was a psychological connection and his brain would send pain signals to a leg that wasn’t there.
“Does it hurt now?” I asked.
“Nothing hurts now,” he said.
He started to slide down the couch. His firm grip on my arm took me with him. I crashed to the floor, twisting my ankle. I let out a scream of pain as Jim’s face whacked the arm of the couch.
I thought his neck snapped but he quickly moved, telling me he hadn’t done more damage to himself.
But, fine, if he was going to be stupid, at least he was just drunk. I always hated the idea of guns in the house. And pain pills. I had to monitor the pills and make sure he didn’t hurt himself - by accident or on purpose.
I wiggled my way out of his grasp and touched his face. “You’re okay, Jim. Get some sleep. You’re going to feel like shit in the morning.”
“I feel… like shit right now, sis.”
“I know you…”
“Sick,” Jim said.
His eyes popped open.
Fuck.
I jumped back and kicked off my sort of heeled shoes I’d been wearing. I darted to the bathroom and grabbed the trash bucket. I snagged a towel and a washcloth on the way out. I jumped to the floor, put the towel down, and held the bucket out.
Jim rolled to his back and started to cough. His mouth then looked like a bubbling volcano as he started to get sick.
“You’ll choke!” I screamed.
I grabbed his hair and twisted his head to right.
He let loose into the trash bucket. It sounded like someone was dumping a bucket of wet mud out a two story window. I turned my head and held my breath, knowing I’d end up getting sick too.
The last few heaves sounded like a bear growling, threatening to rattle the windows.
Jim then rolled to his back and groaned.
I slapped the washcloth across his face - harder than was necessary, but I was pissed off. I emptied the bucket and returned. I forced Jim to turn to his side and stuck a few pillows behind him to keep him there. It was going to be a long night making sure my brother didn’t choke on his own vomit.
What a great way to spend a Saturday night.
I sat against the couch and reached for the bottle of whiskey. I took the remote and found some house renovation show to watch. In another life, I was going to be a nurse. In this life, I was a real estate developer, which sounded fancier than what it was. I managed all of Dad’s land, except the pieces Jim owned personally. I helped to find plots that could be rezoned and built up. It was flexible and paid well.
As I sank into a one hour show about a newlywed couple arguing over the quality of the bushes in their new backyard, I couldn’t help but sip some whiskey. Yeah, it was probably the wrong thing to do. But I wasn’t sure how much more I could take. Jim was snoring behind me. That was good.
I finished off what was left in the bottle.
By the time the show came to an end, the couple was happy, kissing, then on a swing in their new backyard.
“Losers,” I whispered.
That’s when I realized I was a little drunk.
I looked to my right and Jim twitched in his sleep. I heard his stomach gurgle and managed to get out of the way as he got sick again. The sound made my stomach curdle and then Jim rolled right off the couch. He hit the basket and tipped it over. I got the bucket before it spilled and I was back to cleaning up again. This time, I swayed back and forth, hitting the walls left to right.
I left Jim on the floor and grabbed a blanket.
On the love seat, I was wide awake, replaying too much in my mind.
There was a pact made a long time ago. A brotherhood kind of thing. Yet I was the woman dragged into it all.
I spotted Jim’s cell and told myself no. I screamed in my mind not to do anything dumb.
But I did.
I found Duke’s name in Jim’s phone.
I put the number in my phone.
It had been years. Years.
Everything changed when Duke came home.
More than that, he never kept up his part of the brotherhood with Jim.
The whiskey fueled my anger and courage.
I sat up on the couch and looked at my brother on the floor. He was not the man I looked up to. He was not the warrior soldier that left to fight for freedom.
And I was not the woman I had dreamed to be.
It was my turn to pass my feelings along.
So I chose the worst person in the world.
I called Duke… and changed the rest of my life for forever.
three.
(duke)
We walked into the warehouse and looked pretty rough. Ivan and Peter stepped forward out of the shadows of their bodyguards.
Trent had a bloody nose because of me. I had a bloody le
g because of the Hell Five. And Trev… he was just in a nasty fucking mood.
He had the bag of cash and slammed it to the ground.
“You said we were protected,” Trev yelled. “That you didn’t want a goddamn convoy showing up here.”
“I don’t follow,” Ivan said with his thick accent.
“You don’t follow?” I asked. “We were ambushed, asshole.”
“Easy,” Trent said and put a hand to my chest.
Coming from the club’s enforcer, I knew I was stepping over the line.
“Ambush?” Ivan asked.
“Another crew,” Trev said. “Looking to stir up old trouble with us.”
Ivan turned and looked at Peter. He gave a nod. Peter then slipped away.
“I’m sorry for your trouble,” Ivan said. “But you brought the money.”
Trev walked away.
I pointed to it. “It was on my ride. I kept it safe. They started shooting long before we saw them.” I nodded to my leg. “Luckily that was the only bullet one of us took.”
“Good blessing then,” Ivan said. He grabbed the bag and opened it. Within a second, he said, “There’s money missing.”
The entire scene then changed. Ivan tossed the bag to one of his bodyguards and the guy started counting.
“We did what we could,” Trev said. “We were attacked.”
“It was my fault,” I said. “I was in charge of the bag. I should have done more.”
“No,” Trent said. “Fuck that, Duke.” He looked to Ivan. “Duke took a bullet for that money. He came up with the plan to get out of there alive. They were equipped with guns and grenades. We took one out and sent the others packing. For the sake of the money.”
“There’s money missing,” Ivan repeated.
Peter then returned, another man next to him.
“Who the fuck is this?” I asked.
“Curtis,” Peter said. “Security.”
I stepped forward. All I saw was red. This fucking prick put my brothers in danger. He could have cost Trev his life, and the life he and Eden were meant to live together. Same for fucking Trent. Even if that bitch Harlee had wanted to take me out, she was now Trent’s old lady and I respected that.
I brought my right hand back and Trent hooked his arm into mine and spun me around. For a split second it looked like we were doing some fucking stupid country dance or some shit.
I broke away and pushed at Trent.
“Hey,” Trent said. “Relax.”
“My guy is right, Ivan” Trev said. “Where the fuck was the security?”
“I did my goddamn job,” Curtis said. “I had full surveillance of the area. I made sure the roads were clear. I had full tracking on all enemy threats. Anything that happened had nothing to do with his deal.”
“No shit,” I said. “But the fucking area was supposed to be clear.”
“I can’t help who you piss off,” Curtis said. “I don’t babysit.”
I pushed forward again and both Ivan and Trev started to shout. Their voices carried in the big open warehouse. I was within another second of getting to Curtis when Ivan took out a gun and pulled the trigger.
It was loudest goddamn boom I ever heard out of a handgun. It felt like it was an inch from my ear. Shit, it was louder than the grenade back on the road.
My brain scrambled and I dropped to the ground. I covered my face and reached back, looking for my military weapon. I then panicked, trying to find my radio to call in the roadside bomb.
The entire scene from Iraq played out again.
The fucking truck in front of me exploding.
Knowing my best bud from high school was in there…
“Duke!” a voice boomed. “Come back to us, brother!”
My eyes fluttered and I snapped back into reality.
I was back in the warehouse. It was us - Back Down Devil MC - and the Russians. Ivan had shot his gun. That was it. That was the sound. Nothing else.
Trev and Trent helped me back to my feet. I swallowed hard, collecting myself.
I saw the half grin on Curtis’s face and that was all I could handle.
I jumped forward and managed to get a fist to his face. I plowed into his nose, sending him flying back.
“I will do this again,” Ivan said and waved the massive handgun around. “I will shoot your brains out, Duke.” He grinned at me and I had to suppress all my anger not to attack him.
I took a small step back and showed my hands.
Fine. Fucking fine.
“Let’s all try to stay calm for a second,” Trev said. “Ivan, we were attacked. We put our lives on the line on the run down to Tijuana and back. And then an ambush…”
“You spent quite a bit on my tab down there,” Ivan said.
“In all fairness, most of the pussy was Cash,” Trent said. “He’s got a problem.”
“A problem with pussy,” Ivan said with a chuckle. “I don’t think that’s a bad problem to have.”
“None of us do,” I said. “Now, can we square this up?”
Peter stepped forward. “My associate has counted the money.”
“That fast?” Trev asked.
“Well trained,” Ivan said. “Deals go bad all the time.”
“This isn’t a bad deal,” I said. “This is improper intel.”
Curtis held a rag to his nose. He shook his head at me.
I wanted to kill the fucker. I didn’t even know the guy. Hell, maybe it actually wasn’t his fault. But we were told to come with three guys and everything would be safe and secure.
“We’re short fifty-five thousand dollars,” Peter said.
“Take it out of our cut,” Trev said without hesitation. “This is a club problem, Ivan. We will handle it within our club.”
“No,” Ivan said.
Trev was ruthless but Ivan was bold. And extremely stubborn. He came from a different kind of life and a different country than ours. That was something a lot of guys had a hard time grasping. But I understood it.
Ivan wasn’t going to let this go. Even if it was a measly five thousand bucks missing out of the one-hundred-fifty.
He reached into the bag of cash and took out our cut of the money. He held it out to Trev and nodded. “Your portion.”
“Keep it,” Trev said. “Then I owe you five thousand.”
“No,” Ivan said. “I don’t want that. I want my money back.”
“They stole our fee,” I said. “That’s what it was.”
“No,” Ivan said again and stomped his foot. “You take this. You bring me back sixty-five.”
“What?” Trent asked.
“Interest,” Ivan said and shrugged his shoulders.
“Jesus,” I said. “I want your bank.”
Ivan and Peter laughed.
“I want my money,” Ivan said. “And I want it with blood on it.”
The room changed again.
“If this doesn’t happen,” Peter said, “we will intervene. And if we have to start killing your enemies, then we will just keep going. We will take over your town, your club, and your charters.”
“Do we understand?” Ivan asked.
Trev took the fifty grand from Ivan and nodded. “Got it.”
“I hope we can count on you for future endeavors,” Ivan said.
“Always,” I said. “Just get us better intel or let us do it our way next time.”
“Fuck you,” Curtis spat.
He looked like a fat bully that had gotten punched finally. His eyes glossy. His hands shaking like he wanted to fight me but knew I’d destroy him.
“My apologies,” Ivan said. “I give my sorry in two ways here. One, if anyone ever shows up missing money, they would be killed on the spot.”
“And your second sorry?” I asked.
Ivan looked me dead in the eyes. He lifted his hand and pointed his massive handgun right at Curtis. Before I could even process what was about to happen, Ivan pulled the trigger again.
The same thundering boom
went off and Curtis’s brains went scattering out the side of his head and across the warehouse.
“Holy shit!” Trent yelled. He grabbed for Trev and pulled him back, just in case.
“There,” Ivan said. “I don’t deal with a half ass job. I could have lost more money. So you never have to worry about Curtis again.”
“Fuck,” I said.
Ivan tucked his gun into his suit jacket and nodded to me. “And you, Duke. You need to shut your fucking mouth.”
Ivan tapped Peter’s arm.
I felt my phone in my pocket start to vibrate.
Who the fuck would be calling me right now?
I couldn’t fucking focus on the phone call though.
I was too busy watching as Peter took out a gun. A small handgun. I started to reach back for my gun, but I had no time. No chance.
I looked at Ivan.
“For you,” he said with his accent.
By the time he folded his arms and smiled at me, Peter pulled the trigger.
What a fucking night.
four.
(belle)
Bacon popped and a little bit of grease hit my arm.
“Fuck!” I yelled and backed up from the pan.
Right on cue the smoke alarm started to go off, the shrill beep pounding at the insides of my ears. I grabbed a towel and ran out of the kitchen to the hallway and started to wave the towel at it. That did nothing.
Behind me, I could smell the bacon starting to burn.
I ran back to the kitchen and got a chair. I climbed up and twisted the smoke alarm off the wall and popped out the nine-volt battery. I ran back to the stovetop and turned off the burner. I slid the bacon pan back and went for the coffeepot. I poured myself another cup and walked to the table.
Fuck it.
I sat and buried my hands in my face. I felt like a single mother trying to keep things together but unable to do so. The problem was that my “child” was my thirty-three year old brother who couldn’t damn well take care of himself. And I had no place to tell him how to take care of himself. There was only one person in the world who could stand up to Jim and push him around.
And that person never called me back…
Then again, to be fair, I never left Duke a message. But I did call more than once.
I tried to savor my coffee, but face it, it was cheap coffee that I bought on sale. The kitchen lingered with the smell of bacon. All I wanted to do was try and make a quick breakfast so Jim could eat something greasy and hopefully feel better.
