by Jesse Jordan
“Oh, it's allllllll going to be okay!” Carl says, laughing. “We're gonna party, bitch. All three of us!”
I turn my head, watching as Carl does a manic little dance, twitching as he does. “Droning,” Brenda whispers. “He's been doing M-CAT.”
“Ha ha, I never, ever do what I deal!” Carl laughs, his bloodshot eyes telling me how he did it, too. “No way do I wanna go down, I wanna to UP! Still, I am a good host, and we're gonna party. Oh, yes we will.”
“Carl, I don't want to party with you, I want to get Brenda out of here. She needs a hospital,” I say calmly. I know when someone’s on a speed trip and M-CAT is a derivative of amphetamines, they’re liable to go crazy any moment. Slow, simple words, that's the key. “Come on Carl. There's no reason to keep us here.”
“No reason?” Carl asks, laughing. “Oh, no reason she says! I've got a reason for you, about seven inches of reason!”
“You really think we want to fuck you?” I ask, shocked. “Come on Carl, you have a gun pointed at me!”
“Oh, you just need to get familiar with an old friend again, and I'll have my cock gobbled before the moon rises!” Carl says, laughing. Keeping the gun on us, he goes over to the side, where he comes back with a tray, setting it down on a table and holding up a syringe. “You know this little buddy, don't you?”
“I'm not putting that in my body Carl,” I refuse, hoping to reason with him. “Come on, why am I so important to you? You hook me, I'm good for what, a hundred a month? I've got jack and shit to my name.”
“Castles need lots of little bricks to be built,” Carl giggles, wiggling the syringe. I don't know how pure the mix is, but whatever it is, the syringe scares me. Not only would one taste of heroin send me right back to the hell I'm trying to get out of still, but also the size of the dose. Even at the weakest mix I ever took, I never shot up a syringe that big. Now, with my body not used to it anymore, I could easily OD. “And I need more bricks for my castle.”
“I can't take a dose that big, Carl. It'd kill me,” I protest. Carl shrugs and tosses the syringe across the room to bounce on the mattress, and I stare at it like it's a snake.
“Share it with Brenda, if you want. Go ahead, give her some, it'll help her with the pain after all. I think I maybe sprained something of hers, sprung her lower back some.”
“Carl....” I start, and Carl cocks the hammer back on the pistol.
“Either shoot up, or I shoot her,” Carl says, his eyes narrowing. “Two choices.”
I gulp, but Brenda reaches over, taking my hand. “It's okay Mary... it's okay, I can handle it...”
There's little hope for that, but maybe, if I judge it just right, we can both survive. “Okay, Carl... Brenda first, then me. Deal?”
“Then we can party for sure,” Carl says, the gun not wavering. Still, he goes back over to the same table as before and picks up another tray full of powder. “It's a waste of good Kitty Cat, but until you two are happy and horny, I guess it'll have to do.”
I take the syringe and tie off Brenda, sadly the motions are far too easy to recall. She's collapsed a lot of the veins in her wrists, and I have to go down to her thigh to find something that'll stay up. I look her in the eyes, tears forming as I check the syringe, making sure that at least I'm not giving her an embolism. Maybe, she's got her tolerance back up, I can give her half, I can take half...
The needle pierces her skin and she winces, but then gives me a sad, knowing smile. “I love you, Mary.”
“I love you to Bren,” I say, my thumb hovering over the plunger, but before I can press the front door shudders in its frame as something large hits it. Carl turns, the gun coming around and I yank the syringe out of Mary's leg, throwing it at him. I know what that large thing is. It's the man I love and I must try and do something. “GUN!”
Carl's attention is split as I leap at him, hitting the tray in his left hand and sending it into his face. He looks like he's just buried his face in a pile of powdered donuts, and an insane part of my mind realizes that in a way, I have powdered him. Regardless of the amount of fight I've got though, I'm barely over a hundred pounds and Carl's a hopped up one eighty, I don't do much. Still, it makes him inhale, and as the searing powder hits his nose and mouth, it makes him cough, and he drops the gun. I reach for it, but he grabs me, and in desperation, I kick it away where it slides under the couch.
The door rattles again, then one more time, before bursting in and I see Ian and Rocky push in, Joey right behind them. “Let her go!”
“Okay,” Carl says before something hits me in the back of the head, and everything goes swimmy.
Chapter 16
Ian
I can hear the struggle even as I back up, getting ready to charge again, and then inside the apartment, Mary screams. “GUN!”
I spin to the side, but the sound of the fight inside makes me ignore the danger and drive my shoulder in again. I hear it rattle a little more, but whoever renovated this fucking place when they turned it into a set of lofts and apartments used good fucking doors and locks.
“Together,” Rocky says as I back up. “On the lock side.”
I nod as Rocky counts in his head. “Go!”
We've been together for over seven years, the three of us. When I told them about Mary’s call, they came with me, ignoring the danger and my protests that they’e being dumbasses. We've shared apartments, and we've played enough music together that I can read my brothers like a book. I don't even need to look to know that we're in perfect step as our our shoulders hit the door, blasting it open.
What I see is an image that will haunt me my entire life even if I live to be a hundred. Brenda is on the bed, looking like she's been beaten badly as she tries to sit up but is tied down, while Carl has Mary around the neck. His face is covered in a streak of some sort of white powder, while I hear something go rattling under the couch to my right. “Let her go!”
Carl shrugs and rears back with his right arm, his drug crazed eyes matching the insanity in his smile. “Okay,” he laughs, blasting Mary in the back of the head with a forearm, sending her sprawling to the floor. “Let's dance, you thieving fuck.”
“Get the girls!” I tell Rocky and Joey, stepping forward. “Fine, motherfucker. Let's fucking dance. Last time I took it easy on you, not again.”
Carl kicks, but I see it coming and slap his foot out of the way before grabbing him around the waist and heaving him up, throwing him onto his back. Carl hits but bounces up before punching, and he hits hard, catching me in the chest with a shot that surprises me. He's obviously on something, he doesn't feel a thing as I catch his next punch and twist, throwing him to the floor. I try to follow up but he's frantic, scrambling quickly enough that I end up chasing him as he tries to run.
“Thought you wanted to dance?” I ask, following him. “Thought you wanted to prove how badass you are?”
“Oh, don't worry about that,” Carl giggles madly, running out of the room and turning. I don't know what he's got back there, and I slow up, going carefully.
The hallway is short, the apartment looks like it was a loft that was divided in an almost Japanese way with a sort of modular, movable wall structure and a back hallway that connects everything that isn't moveable. I follow the noise, dodging a punch as Carl tries to sucker me as I go around the corner. Instead, I grab his hand and squeeze, relishing the sound of his maybe just barely starting to knit bones in his right-hand cracking before I kick, my boot catching him squarely in the stomach and sending him crashing through the paper door into what is obviously the kitchen. Still though, whatever he's on isn't letting him feel any pain at all, and I'm just going to have to beat him harder.
“You terrorize my girlfriend, kidnap her friend, and try to get them hooked back on smack. The world's better without you, you're going away for a long time now,” I growl, stepping forward, but Carl yanks open a drawer, pulling out another gun.
“Rock fucking sucks!” Carl screams madly as he fires, the slug whi
zzing past my ear even as I scramble backward. I turn, hoping to get back to the living room, praying that Rocky and Joey have gotten the girls out of the apartment.
Carl shoots again and fire erupts in my left hamstring, he got me somehow and I go tumbling just as I hit the doorway back to the living room. My worst fears are confirmed though as I see Mary still on the floor, Rocky still trying to revive her while Joey's struggling to free Brenda. “Guys!”
“That's enough!” Carl says as Joey gets up, trying to help me to my feet. “All of you, over to the couch.”
Joey helps me up as Rocky gets Mary stirring, her eyes focusing as she comes to, I don't think she's been knocked out but sent for a loop. “Sorry, man,” Joey says quietly. “The girl on the bed was tied up, we didn't have enough time.”
“It's okay,” I grunt, watching Carl carefully. He's caught in drug psychosis, I can see it in his eyes, he's out of his fucking mind. I only hope that if he's had this much shit in his system, that soon enough he's going to go from psycho to drifting off or going over the edge before he shoots someone.
“Sit, all of you,” Carl says, his breath coming in rapid pants that make him sound like a sprinter. He's obviously not used to this much whatever the fuck it is in his system. “Holy fuck, this kitty-cat's tight.”
“What's he on?” Rocky asks, holding Mary in his lap to give me as much space as possible while Joey helps me sit.
“M-CAT... bath salts,” Mary mumbles, her voice getting stronger as she does, clearing away the cobwebs in her head from getting blasted. “Bad shit.”
Great, just what I need. No wonder he didn't feel the pain, I've probably broken at least one rib that he just doesn't give a shit about right now. Also, explains why my chest hurts so fucking much, he hit me a lot harder than he should have been able to.
“So, what now?” I ask, hissing at the pain. I can feel the bullet inside me, at least it didn't get all the way to my bone. The pistol he's got is a cheap as fuck little twenty-five, a Saturday Night Special type gun that won't do shit past twenty feet, but he's closer than that as he points the thing at us.
“Now? Now we all get to go downstairs, I've got a van in the parking garage, and we drive. We drive south, all of us, cross the border and meet some friends of mine. They'll pay good money for the girls, and you three... well, I'm sure there's something they can do with you three. Hell, the long haired one... Rocky, right?”
“Yeah, Rocky,” Rock says, carefully trying to position Mary away from him. I see what he's trying to do, and never in my whole life will I love another man as much as I love Rocky in this instant. He's trying to cover Mary with his body so that if Carl does fire, she might be safe. My brother, no matter what.
“Yeah, Rocky,” Carl says, laughing. “Oh, I bet they can find you a job in the Tijuana Donkey Show, you know what that is right? They'll love to line to and pay to watch you take a horse cock up that gringo ass.”
“Don't do this Carl, you know the cops are coming,” I grunt, getting Carl's attention. “You fired twice, and we're close enough to UCLA someone's already called. They're probably already on the way.”
“Then I guess I don't have time to do much more than run,” Carl says, cocking the hammer back on the pistol and pointing it at me. “Fucking shame, too. But I'll at least get you first.”
I tense myself, hoping that maybe I can jump towards Carl before he can pull the trigger, but I know it's pretty much hopeless for me. But I’m big, I can cover the others with my body. I just hope I can get to him, maybe take him down and give the guys a chance to disarm him before he can get the fucking pistol trained on them. “Fuck...”
A strange sound cuts through the air. A grisly, almost ripping sound, and suddenly something's sticking out of Carl's throat.
“You,” Brenda growls from behind Carl, who drops the gun, reaching for the hole in his throat as she yanks the knife out.
Chapter 17
Mary
I know even before Ian opens his mouth what he's going to do, but Rocky's got my leg pinned with his leg, he's holding me down while sheltering me. I try to say something, to scream or do something. But then I see movement behind Carl, the words dying on my lips as Brenda jams the knife into Carl's neck and pulls, turning the hole into a gaping crimson chasm. The flow is instant and tremendous, jetting out even as Carl clutches at his neck, his eyes going wide before he drops to his knees and then face-first onto the ground.
“Bastard,” Brenda hisses, spitting on his body as we get off the couch. I can see that Joey's been hit with some of the splatter from Carl's throat, and I can feel something warm on my chest, I guess I have too. My eyes are on Brenda though as Rocky lets me up when he goes to check on Ian, who groans and goes to a knee as his aborted lunge mixes with the bullet in his hamstring to make his leg give out.
“You got shot in the ass,” Joey says, his mind dealing with it all with stupid humor, something I can understand. Both of the guys are checking on Ian, but I see Brenda move again and I reach out, calling her name.
“Brenda, no!” I yell, the knife freezing a hair's breadth from her neck. “What are you doing?”
Brenda looks at me, and in her eyes, I see despair, sadness, and a total lack of hope. “I can't go back, Mary. It'd kill me. You know what they'll do when they get here, they'll send me to lockup, they'll send me to jail.... not again, I can't.”
“Brenda, they won't,” I promise. “What for?”
“Murder, manslaughter, whatever,” Brenda says, tears starting again. “The Times is going to love it. Famous rock band caught up in a drug crazed murder. All I do is hurt others. I can't hurt you anymore.”
“Brenda, please. You saved us,” Ian groans, and I hear Rocky and Joey helping him up. “You saved my life. You didn't hurt me. You saved me, you saved us.”
“Then I go out on a good note,” Brenda says. “I can't go back.”
“You won't!” I beg, holding my hand out. “Please Bren, put the knife down. We'll do this together, I promise.”
“I can't take any more, Mary,” Brenda says, blinking. “I can't. You know the DA won't give a fuck.”
“Which is why you'll have our help,” Joey says in a soft, kind voice. “Brenda, right? First, that's my knife, so I'm responsible too. But you did the right thing, and you have friends who will help you.”
“Friends?” Brenda asks, the knife blade wavering just a little. We're getting through whatever's left over in her system. “What friends?”
“You have all of us,” Rocky says. “You have everything we have to help you.”
“Brenda, drop the knife,” Ian says softly, pain still in his voice as he steps forward, holding his hand out. “Take my hand, me and Mary. We'll walk you out of here, get you into a treatment center. Not jail, a good treatment center, one that'll give you a good chance to get things back together. And don't worry about the cops.”
“Why?”
Joey smiles, his boy next door smile that I still have problems associating with his stage persona, but I remember from the one day we talked. It's soft, supportive, and calming, and maybe just what Brenda needs right now. “Because my fiancée happens to have the best lawyers in Los Angeles working for her. So, they're working for you now, too.”
Brenda's eyes glimmer, hope dawning as she looks at the guys, then looks at me. “Mary?”
I nod, stepping past Ian to go directly in front of Mary. “When I was at my most desperate, darkest hour in jail, you were there for me. That hasn't changed, I'm here for you now. We'll get through this together.”
“My family?” Brenda asks, and I smile.
“You have a family. Me... Ian.... these guys. I promise.” I hear sirens outside, the cops are coming, and I know I don't have much time. “You and me Brenda, I swear.”
I put my hand over Brenda's, and as I do the strength goes out of her, the knife falling from her hand to clatter on the floor and I pull her into a hug, Brenda sobbing as the cops get closer. I hear their boots on the stairs, an
d as they get closer I whisper in her ear. “It's okay. I love you, Brenda.”
“Mr. Ivory, if you insist on walking, it's going to leave a scar,” the doctor protests. “The muscle should be fine with a supportive elastic bandage even though it'll hurt like hell, but I can't say the same about your skin.”
“Chicks dig scars, doc,” Ian rumbles, laying on his chest while the doctor keeps stitching. “And there's no fucking way I'm not walking down the aisle for Joey's wedding.”
“You know Andrea's fine with delaying things,” Joey says apologetically. Since the apartment, he's been looking guilty, and I think I know why. I remind myself that I need to talk with him before we get released from the hospital.
“Forget it, you guys set this date, and I'm not having another wedding in our group get delayed because of stupid shit with the cops,” Ian retorts. He turns his head from Joey to look at me. “How's Brenda?”
“Officially under arrest, but in a private room in the hospital,” I reassure him. “The cops won't let her check out, but I already talked with Andrea... in her words, she's got the legal team of Fukham, Harde, and Howe already watching over her. The gleam in her eye said that she's in no trouble at all.”
Ian nods, then yawns. “Maybe it's the stress, maybe getting shot in the leg, but I'm sleepy.”
“We'll get you a ventilator, Mr. Ivory,” the doctor reassures us. “It's not as good as a pure BiPAP, but your apnea won't be a problem tonight. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to work with my patient alone for a bit?”
I nod, giving Ian a kiss on the cheek and whispering in his ear. “I won't forget how you fought for me. I love you.”
“I love you too,” Ian rumbles, giving me a little smile as Joey and I leave. In the hallway, I take Joey by the arm, guiding him into a quiet alcove.
“What's wrong, Joey? The knife?”
Joey nods, shrugging. “When I saw what was holding Brenda down, I just pulled a knife that I had in my pocket, a little multi tool. I had it because it has a bottle opener on it, I figured it'd be useful for the party. I didn't....”
