Thrash

by Jc Emery

  Opening the door to the room, I find yet another darkened space. A hulking figure sits at the foot of the bed, hunched over and perfectly still. My nerves calm at the sight. I can’t make him out in the darkness, not really anyway, but I can sense that it’s him. And who else would be in the house, anyway? I flip on the light and still at the sight.

  Wearing his black boots and a pair of blue jeans with a black tee shirt, and his blond hair is falling in his face, Duke looks up. His elbows rest on his knees. When his eyes meet mine, they’re pained and red with irritation from being touched too much. He’s covered in motor oil and a thin sheen of sweat, but that’s not what makes my heart lurch.

  Streaks of blood are smeared over his cheeks and up and down his arms, on his shirt and his jeans, and even in his hair.

  All worries about being pregnant fly out of my head, and I drop my purse to the floor and rush over to him.

  “It’s not my blood,” he says and reaches out for me. I slam into him and crawl into his lap as his arms wrap around my torso, smearing the blood onto my clothes and skin. I run my fingers through his hair, tip his head back so he can look at me, and study his face.

  “Tell me you’re okay,” I demand on a whisper.

  “I’m not hurt,” he says. I let my eyes fall closed for a moment then lean in and rest my forehead against his.

  “Not the same thing, baby,” I say, holding him close.

  “Club shit we gotta talk about,” he says. His hands skim my sides so lightly it tickles, but I fight to avoid moving. “Bad shit’s gone down, baby. Told you Princess ain’t who you think she is, but you know that now seein’ as you somehow made friends with her.” This is true. I wasn’t happy the first time Alex showed up at Universal Grounds with Ruby, but after thinking it over, I decided that the best way to deal with your competition is to know your competition— not that I worry about that anymore. But at the time it was critical. In the few times we’ve hung out, I’ve mentioned Duke once or twice. Her nose always turns up. which tells me all I need to know. No way if she’d had his dick would she look that annoyed at the mention of his name.

  “The short history is that Jim promised Ruby he’d always keep her kids safe. Princess wasn’t safe. so we went and got her,” he says.

  “Why wasn’t she safe?” I ask. I don’t know what I’m allowed to ask or even what I should be asking. Duke’s lips turn down into a pout

  “The Italian mob doesn’t really like it when you give them up to the cops,” he says. My stomach drops. and I let my head fall against his shoulder. “Wasn’t right to tell you before now—the nickname Princess? She’s what they call the Principessa to the Mancuso crime family. Lesson, babe. Doesn’t matter who your daddy is if you’re a snitch.” I suck in a breath of air. but it doesn’t feel like I’m breathing. Alex is a snitch? There’s so much running through my head right now that I force myself to stop trying to process it all.

  “Mancuso’s locked up. and so are most of his higher ranking men, but he’s got guys with something to prove. Couple of ‘em made a trip out here, they ambushed us at the house—took Princess. One of ‘em was her brother—her twin brother.” Not knowing what to say, I rub my hands up and down his arms. This is serious shit, and on top of it, it’s serious club shit. This isn’t the kind of stuff he wouldn’t tell me if he didn’t trust me. Sharing club business with me is huge.

  His body tenses as he recalls the scene in the warehouse when he arrived. Alex was being beaten, and according to Duke there was so much blood he didn’t even know if she was going to make it. I’ve seen him since the night he says this all happened, but it’s been brief. Usually I’m in a deep sleep by the time he comes home. and he goes straight to the shower. Most nights he takes me slowly, but sometimes he’s so on edge I have to ask him to be careful. Used to be, he’d be home every night, but lately it’s been less frequent.

  “Her brother—he’s Ruby’s son,” I say, stating the obvious. He blows out a deep breath and nods.

  “Club voted. We give Junior the same protection we’re giving Princess. Don’t like it. He fucked her up good. Kept thinking how Trigger had to feel—how I’d feel if I were him and it were you,” he says with a strained voice. When he looks me in the eyes, his are watery and they dart from side to side almost maniacally.

  “It wasn’t me,” I say. I try to keep my voice soothing and gentle because right now my man needs gentle. “She okay?” He lets out a hearty laugh that sounds hollow.

  “Kid’s a fuckin’ trooper,” he says. “I’ve never seen anyone take a beating the way she did.” Then he sobers and looks me straight in the eyes. “She could have died.”

  “What is it with you and this girl?” I ask. I try to backtrack, but it’s too late. I just hope it doesn’t come out as accusing as it sounds in my head.

  “Way she looks at Trigger, like he’s her lifeline—like he’s the only thing that’s stopping her entire world from spinning? It’s crazy. and I don’t get it. Guy’s a prick,” he says horsely. Giving me a slight squeeze, he clears his throat and says, “But you gave yourself to me, and every day you give me a little more. First fuckin’ time in my life, Nicole, and everything is fucking still. Nothing spins.”

  The gravity of his words hit me in the center of my entire goddamn being. Because, well, damn.

  Nothing spins.

  “There’s stuff I gotta say,” I whisper. My eyes are wide, my heart’s about to beat out of my chest, and it’s only when I open my mouth that I realize what we’ve been building up to. I’d say I love him, but those words are such bullshit. I open my mouth only to close it twice before I realize the only thing I need to say right now is what’s already been said.

  “Nothing spins,” I whisper. He’s given me solid ground for the first time in years. When I’m with him. I know I’m wanted and I’m cared for, but even more than that—I’m respected. The way his hands travel my body and he listens to the things I say should have told me this before now.

  Nothing spins.

  The weight of my fears presses down on my chest, not crushing, just hard enough to remind me that we need to talk. And for the first time I think that just maybe it’s all gonna be okay if those fears are realized. Because if his world’s stopped spinning and so has mine, then maybe I want it to be true and I want things more permanent with him.

  Slowly, I crawl off his lap despite his protests, which I shush into silence, and, taking his hand, I lead him into the bathroom with me. I turn on the shower and then turn back to Duke.

  He hasn’t moved from the spot I left him in. Reaching up, I take off his cut and place it on the sink. Then I remove his tee shirt. When I unclasp his belt, I can feel him growing beneath the jeans, and when I drag the zipper down, I notice he’s throbbing.

  “Get it off your chest, baby. You need to talk it out, so you talk it out,” I say. He says nothing as he watches me slide his jeans down and then take off his boots and socks. When his jeans are pooled at his feet, I slowly drag his boxers down. Still, he says nothing. I stand up and place my hands on his chest and look him firm in the eyes and say, “Let me take care of you.”

  And it’s all he needs to start talking as I undress myself. Everything from how they took Michael, Alex’s brother and the guy he calls Junior, to a safe house out of town—which is where he’s spent most of his waking hours. He’s all fucked up over Michael and the things he’s been saying. Duke doesn’t feel right about ignoring him like Ryan’s ordered him to. Not that Ryan can order Duke around, so he’s thinking of taking Michael seriously and talking to Jim about it. As he talks, I walk him into the steamy shower. When he’s inside he tells me how Michael flipped out and attacked one of the prospects and Duke had to intervene.

  “I feel like a tool for thinking he might be onto something,” he says as I drag the bar of soap over his taut skin.

  “Take that to the club and let them vote on it,” I say without even thinking about it. If he brings it up during church, the club will have to give
it consideration, and then at least it can be off his shoulders and no longer solely his burden to bear. I can tell he’s holding something back with the way he’s so tense and frustrated, but I don’t bring it up. He’ll bring it to me when he’s good and ready and not a second beforehand.

  Once he’s all clean and he’s helped me wash his hair, I use his body as leverage to steady myself as I sink to my knees. For years, he’d buddy up to me at the clubhouse and playfully tell me I should suck his dick. And for years I’d seriously tell him to go suck his own dick. And after a few minutes of chitchat, he’d wander off. Sometimes I’d see him with another woman and sometimes he’d be with two or more. And they’d suck his dick, they’d ride him, he’d ride them, and they’d fuck each other. And because sucking dick is a lot of work for little reward, I don’t like doing it. But right now I want to give him something I never have. And since I’ve given him my heart and maybe even a piece of my flesh, I want to give him this.

  He looks down at me with hooded eyes, watching as I circle the head of his shaft and draw him in. I drag it out, pumping and licking and sucking as long as I can, but eventually my jaw tires. Placing soft kisses along his shaft I say, “I’m going to make you forget anyone else has ever been here.” I wrap my mouth around him, swirling my tongue over his head, and within a minute, he explodes in my mouth and I drink him in.

  It isn’t until we’re both clean and tucked into bed that he tells me about Chief and he holds me while I cry for the first time in years.

  Chapter 19

  “No, for real—what the fuck, Nicole?” Duke snaps angrily from the other side of the door. “You haven’t been peeing for at least five minutes. You can’t tell me you still have to pee. We got shit to do.”

  I cast a sideways glance at the locked bathroom door and for the hundredth time, look at the pregnancy test in my hands. The blue positive sign that showed up less than a minute after I finished peeing on the damn thing is practically mocking me.

  “Just another minute,” I say in a shaky voice.

  Last night the possibility of being pregnant wasn’t so scary, because Duke was suffering some kind of crisis and he needed me. But now that he’s back to being pushy and bossy, I’m thinking more clearly. And thinking more clearly when I’m holding a positive pregnancy test in my hands pretty much equates to me freaking the fuck out because I’m so not ready for this shit. This was never something I thought I wanted, but now that it’s here, a tiny part of me thinks I might want it. A piece of Duke and me together—bossy and mouthy, and stubborn as can be—makes fear-induced spinning stop. And I think… maybe? I don’t know. Maybe I could do this right. But maybe I can’t, and the thought of fucking up an entire human being is terrifying.

  My mother was a club favorite for another club somewhere south of here in the Bay Area, and that’s how she ended up with me. When she met the man who became my dad—Butch Whelan—she was supposed to stop that shit. Even after she’d had Jeremy and taken on the domestic role, she was still wild as all get out. It didn’t seem to matter that my dad would come home every night and tuck both me and my brother into bed before he headed back out. It didn’t seem to matter that he put a roof over her head and food in her belly and gave her enough spending money that she could blow on stupid porcelain dolls from QVC. None of that seemed to matter. She’s a whore who likes a whore’s lifestyle, and because of that she couldn’t handle the mommy role, nor could she handle the wife role—and she left. From what she told me about my grandmother before she split, my grandmother left her, too. I don’t know what caused that, but if genes have anything to do with it, I’d be willing to bet that dear old grandma was a whore, too. And whores have no business raising kids. So instead of perpetuating the cycle, I’d decided to take myself out of the loop. Or, I thought I had. But now?

  Nothing makes sense, but nothing’s spinning.

  Duke’s heavy boots clop against the carpeted floor as he paces outside the bathroom. It was almost ten minutes ago when I told him I had to pee real quick. I knew what I was coming in here to do, I just couldn’t handle the ‘what if’ anymore. His boots stop at the door and he throws his knuckles against it again and jiggles the handle.

  “What are you doing, taking a shit?” he asks, his tone on edge. My face heats even though I’m not doing what he’s accused me of, and I take one last look at the positive test and toss it in the garbage.

  “You’re so fucked,” I whisper, placing my hand on my flat stomach, then I curse myself for the action. I can’t let myself get too attached to this just yet. Duke might not want this, and if he doesn’t want it, I won’t have it. I had a dad who left me and my mom when I was little, then I had a mom who left. The only one who stuck around was a guy who didn’t have to. But he did, and despite how much my dad loved me—formally adopting me and giving me his last name—there’s still a hole there where my mom used to be. Not being wanted fucks people up, and I refuse to do that to my kid. Duke knows that—he wasn’t wanted by his dad, and he’s spent his entire life trying like hell to fit into the only family he’s ever known—the club. It’s selfish to have a kid and give it the job of keeping its parents together. I can’t do that.

  And it’s not like I’ve done very well with Jeremy on my own. We had a meeting with his principal that lasted over an hour last week. Apparently, he’s failing his summer class and has no chance of catching up. To make matters worse, he now has Saturday school the next three weekends in a row for telling his teacher to eat a bag of dicks. The principal couldn’t tell me exactly what Jeremy was reacting to, but I could guess. The boy pretty much mouthed off about anything and everything—still, telling his teacher to eat a bag of dicks was kind of an extreme situation. Duke seems to think I’m wearing rose colored glasses when it comes to Jeremy, and maybe I am. He’s a total shit head, but he’s still my brother and I can’t help but wonder if other people are provoking him sometimes. Even though my heart’s in the right place, I’m still screwing him up at every turn.

  I check my reflection in the mirror above the sink and quickly braid my hair for the ride to Jim and Ruby’s house. It was probably poor timing to take the test right before we’re leaving, but oh well. After I’d calmed down about Chief last night, I told Duke I wanted to see Alex. I may not know her all that well, but she’s one of the few friends I have who doesn’t know my every dirty little secret.

  “Come on, Nic,” Duke shouts. I make mocking faces in the mirror and take a deep breath. Alex being all busted up and bed-ridden makes me antsy, and as much as Duke swears she actually enjoys Ryan’s company, I’m calling bullshit. I have to see for myself, even if that means going inside of Jim and Ruby’s house.

  I walk into the hall while buttoning my shirt and adjusting my bra. It’s closing in on August, but the cool weather’s set in again this week, making my summer wardrobe useless right now. I lift my head and see Duke at the end of the hall with a new black helmet in his hands. He hands it off to me and strides to the front door. I fiddle with the straps, careful not to drop it. I know he bought it specifically for me, as he wrote my name on the inside and it’s smaller than the one he wears. I place it on my head as I walk out of the house.

  When we pull up at Jim and Ruby’s, there seems to be a flurry of activity going on. It’s not surprising with everything. Unfortunately, Ryan’s bike is among the several that are lined up at the garage. After the shit he pulled at the clubhouse—which I have not forgotten about—I’m not really thrilled about seeing him. I can see a total of three men surveying the property outside. The two guys in the front are fully armed, though they’ve taken some care to disguise their large guns from passersby. Forsaken runs the town, for sure, but there are some atrocities they can’t commit without ruffling some feathers. Duke cuts off the bike and waits for me to dismount. I take a deep breath and stare at the house. It takes me back to a place in my past that really sucks, but only now does it feel ten times worse than it ever did before.

  Jeremy and I had move
d into this house when my dad went to county for the run that went bad down in Oakland. It was kind of Jim and Ruby to take us in, and they were good to us while we were here. I just couldn’t get past my own sorrow to see it then.

  The club had been making a delivery of the weed they grow outside of town, and the deal went bad. It wouldn’t have been so awful if Dad hadn’t decided to go rouge and figure his own way out of the mess. Now, he’s down in San Quentin and I’m only able to visit him a few times a year because of the distance.

  “What’s going on, baby?” Duke asks, craning his neck around. I take a deep breath and climb off the bike then remove my helmet and set it on the handlebars. Duke dismounts and catches me around the waist before I move away from him. I tense at him touching my stomach. It’s impossible for him to know, but the paranoia that he’s going to find me out is way too fucking real.

  “Talk to me,” he says from behind me. He pulls me against him and leans his head down to whisper in my ear. The eruption of nerves that sends my belly into a frenzy isn’t anything new. “We’re not moving until you talk to me.”

  “The house,” I say, giving in. If it weren’t for Alex being in there waiting on me, I’d let us stand here until morning came, and I’d still not say anything. I can’t explain to him—not here—that being here right now is hard. I’m barely processing the news, and being here? It’s too much and I want to leave.

  “You been back since you moved out?” he asks. I just shake my head and refuse to say anything else. I’ll be damned if he’s going to get me to talk about it. He must sense my reluctance or something, because he doesn’t push. He just lets me take a minute to stand here in the dirt driveway and stare at the the house that once tried to be a home.