by J. C. Allen
And I was about to pay the price.
“Oh no, motherfucker,” Roost said, cracking his knuckles. “That’s where yer dead fuckin’ wrong. See, yer my fuckin’ business! This, all this shop, all this work, and everythin’ underneath this roof, is my fuckin’ business! And the day ya decided to fall fer a Black Falcon whore and whisk her off the streets and into yer bed? On that day ye went and made her my business, too.”
I hated that Roost called her a whore. Even if it came from a place of honesty, even if he had cared for her while I was out…
You don’t get to be upset at anything Roost says about her. It won’t be anywhere near as bad as what you said, you fucking dick.
“Now, cuz she’s in my world, my house, and my life, I will break skulls into a fine fucking powder, stir it into a frothy almond milk, and drink a faggy lil frap while I sit my fat ass on the carcasses of every motherfucker who so much as looks at that girl the wrong way. And if ya think that yer ass is an exception, than I suggest ya get on yer fuckin’ knees an’ see how quick it takes me to fuck it into Nesquik, ya self-centered nutsack!”
He took a step towards me that was dangerously close to enough to make me void my bladder all over myself. Roost did not pull punches, and he did not bluff. He had never hit me, but I’d seen him hit my brother more than once and other members of the Saviors whom he felt acted out of life.
The only person I never saw him touch was my father.
Frankly, he never needed to. The idea of my father calling my mother a cunt… it was beyond unfathomable. It was beyond impossible.
“Now,” Roost said, standing over me, looking a hell of a lot bigger with me in a chair than he did when I was standing. “What… did… ya… do?
I stared back, not wanting to answer.
Fuck.
He only returned the stare.
Fuck!
We continued like that for what felt like a small eternity.
Aw, fuck!
I finally broke down. Honesty had to win, not just because it was right, but because it had forced its way to the surface and was seconds away from breaking out.
“I called her a fucking cunt,” I said.
I braced for the punch. I braced to get knocked out again and wind up in the hospital. I braced for the violence that would have me losing half of my blood in a matter of seconds.
“Why.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a command to continue. I stood up, took a deep breath.
“Derek.”
My name was a warning. It was better now to ramble the truth than to speak coherently and slowly but with only half truths in the moment.
“Remember that phone call with Chuck?” I said. “He told me all this shit about Eve continuing to work the streets and such. It all seemed totally implausible, and I was seconds away from kicking his ass. But then he showed me photos of her on the street, wearing hooker garb, leaning into cars as if begging for some coin.”
I bit my lip, feeling beyond stupid.
“I still beat his ass and left him unconscious on the street, but that boy’s words wiggled into my mind like a goddamn worm. Words that had sounded far-fetched started to make sense, and—”
“How.”
Again, it was both a warning and a command. But this one, I didn’t have an answer for.
“Couldn’t tell you,” I said. “I guess my fucking impulsive and emotional nature got the best of me. I went down a dark path, believed everything that was said, and, well, I fucked up.”
“Ya don’t fuckin’ say,” Roost said, but at least now his hands were folded under his armpits, in a non-threatening position. The threat of corporal punishment was still real, but it was less pressing than seconds before. “Go on.”
“It just all slowly built up,” I said. “Eve brought me a bottle of liquor the next day, which I was appreciative of, but still suspicious. She… I called you at one point and asked you where Eve went, you said she went off on her own, and I just assumed…”
I sighed.
“I assumed she was back hooking.”
“Yer a goddamn idiot sometimes, ya know that?” Roost said. “She went off on her own cuz she wasn’t feelin’ great. Would I’ve liked to know more, stay with her? Hell yeah. But that don’t mean I thought she was gonna go bang some John behind yer back!”
“I know, I know…”
I couldn’t decide if the rest of this story was going to get worse or not. It certainly wasn’t going to get any better.
“Upon hearing this, I lost my cool. I… I didn’t have anything to turn to except the bottle of liquor she’d bought me. A dumb move, and one I’m still paying for. But yeah. I drank it. And then Eve came home and I unloaded on her. I… that’s where I called her a fucking cunt.”
“An’ Eve?” he asked. “What’d she do?”
I shrugged.
“What she should’ve done,” I said. “She hit me right in the mouth; knocked me on my ass.”
“Good,” Roost said with a nod of approval. “Saves me the trouble. Ya know what I’m gonna say next, right?”
At least I had avoided Roost’s physical attacks. Not that that was much consolation.
“That this was exactly what Chuck wanted all along?” I asked.
He nodded.
“I did tell Eve ya was the thinkin’ sort. Glad ye’re not makin’ a liar of me. And, for that matter, I told ya that the Falcon and the Black Falcons were ‘bout to pull some mindfuck shit on us. Ya fell for it, bud. Chalk up the victory to Falcon. Be glad it hasn’t cost ya anyone ya love yet.”
Yet…
What’s fucking terrifying is that he’s absolutely right.
“It got worse, I think,” I said. “Eve left and I was a hot mess. I was on a suicide wish. So I drove… I drove drunk and hammered all the way to Maggie’s grave.”
“Ya fuckin’ kiddin’ me.”
Now he just sounded disbelieving instead of angry. I couldn’t blame him—even hearing myself say it felt like a sort of out of body experience.
“God or someone must’ve been looking out on me, cuz I didn’t hit anyone. Although I’m sure everyone at the gas station knew what the hell I was doing. Anyways, I passed out at her grave. I woke up, you called, I threw up, and… here I am.”
“Fuckin’ disgrace,” Roost said. “Yer father would be ashamed.”
I nearly teared up at that statement. Of all the things Roost said that pained me, none were worse than that. None struck at my soul harder than that.
It was only made worse by the fact that he was absolutely right. Father Knight would look at me, slap me, and tell me to get it together. The world has enough assholes and fuckups—we don’t need to add to their numbers.
In my desperation not to cry, I began breathing heavily, as if almost having a panic attack. Roost just stood there, staring at me, waiting for me to get it out. I’d cried a few times before in front of Roost, but this…
“Is there any chance there could be some truth to Eve going back to that life? I mean, it’s gotta be possible, right?”
I wasn’t even sure why I wanted to justify that statement—perhaps it was some deep-rooted need to look like a leader of this club, a need that looked less and less necessary by the day, given Roost had full justification to kick me out and usurp the throne.
“Yeah, sure,” Roost said with a shrug.
I felt my heart start to sink at that.
And then I nearly went deaf at Roost’s yell.
“To a dumb-fuck, shit-brained, know-nothin’ who’s too busy lickin’ his fuckin’ wounds after all these years, maybe!”
I flinched and looked away, ashamed.
Fuck.
Fuck!
“Fuck!”
“Yer damn right ‘fuck!’ As in ‘the fuck’s wrong with ya, boy?’ As in ‘that girl’s in love with ya, ya dumb-fuck!’ Head-over-fuckin’-heels. She was there the entire time ya was laid out in that hospital bed. The entire goddamn time! I practically had to drag her ou
t and back to my place just so she could get some decent sleep, and even after that the first thing she wanted the next day was to go see yer unconscious ass! And when she caught wind of how much shit the Saviors be stirrin’ up, she refused to steer clear of us—of you—even though it was the safer option.”
I looked up that, stunned. It was all so believable… and I’d chosen to believe the least plausible scenario of all.
Man, I am a fuck up.
“She did all of that?”
He nodded, just a tad calmer than before. I was still a mighty big fuck up, but maybe things weren’t as bad… or at least, I was beginning to make progress on things. I was slowly, very slowly, starting to work my way around to making things better.
“I believe her exact words were: ‘if it means leavin’ Derek, then I won’t do it; not fer the world.’”
I groaned and looked down, dropping my face into my palms. What more could be said other than the obvious?
“God, I’m an idiot.”
“Well, at least ya see that,” Roost said, nodding in agreement.
“I hurt her bad,” I said, feeling the tears begin to drop—too late now to hide them.
“You did,” Roost agreed. “But, I think ya can still fix it.”
What?
There was something about a friend telling you that you had a chance with your ex that just revitalized the spirit—sometimes too far in the other direction, but damnit, I needed that. After all of the justified criticism, after all the tears, after all the self-destruction and damage… I needed someone objective to give me some hope. Some real hope.
“How?”
“Ya really can be such a fuckin’ idiot, ya know that?” Roost said, rolling his eyes.
“What the fuck, Roost?” I said, feeling unsure of his response, unsure what I was supposed to do. “I’m sorry, I don’t, I don’t mean to be mad, but if you’re telling me I have a chance, I have to know exactly what I need to do.”
“OK, Derek. Here’s exactly what ya need to do,” Roost said.
There was definite sarcasm in his voice, especially the way he emphasized “exactly.” Again, deserved.
“Ya go to that girl… ya buck yerself up… and ya fuckin’ apologize, fer starters!” Roost said, shaking his head at how obvious it all seemed. Which it really is. “And maybe consider not putting more trust in some dipshit fuckin’ stranger than yer own woman! Jesus, Derek, of all the things…”
Damn. I really am being stupid.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to get a grip. Roost was right. If there was any chance at fixing things with Eve, it started with me going to her. It started with an apology and the truth. She deserved that much and I certainly wasn’t getting anywhere just sitting here feeling sorry for myself, whether “here” was at the shop or at Maggie’s grave.
I sighed and nodded, giving him an appreciative—albeit forced—smile.
“Thanks, Roost,” I said. “I’ll take care of that ASAP.”
“See that ya do,” he responded, but the calmness in his voice was enough to let me know he had faith we were at least over that hurdle. “Be warned, though.”
Welp, so much for that.
“If ya think Eve is just gonna keel over and take yer sorry ass back after what ya did, yer badly mistaken. Ya really fucked up on this one big time, and I ain’t gotta tell ya that Eve’s got more of a spine than most of the men in the Saviors. Don’t think ya gonna say yer sorry and all’s well. Ain’t that easy. Gonna take work.”
While that all sounded well and true, there wasn’t much I could do about it other than calibrate my adjustments accordingly.
“But you think there’s still a chance?”
“Duh,” Roost said, too exasperated to even roll his eyes. “She still loves ya, despite ya being the biggest brick in this buildin’. But good love ain’t just gonna get on its knees and beg for ya back when ya the one who fucked up.”
He cleared his throat.
“She’s stayin’ at my place with Tara. Along with the rest of those crazy cats. Ya gotta make it right, Derek. And dontcha think for one second that I’m on yer side here, not after everythin’ I got told.”
“Fair enough,” I said. “So… what was all that about Falcons business?”
That question, after all, was the exact reason I had come here, not to get a lecture from big brother on my dating failures.
“Yeah… those fucks,” Roost said with an exhausted groan. “They are up to somethin’, Derek. My sources can’t exactly tell what exactly, but they gettin’ bold—some, myself included, would go so far as to say ‘stupid’—an’ they gettin’ messy.”
“Isn’t that good for us?” I asked, folding my arms. “If it’s that bad then just let them burn out, right? Best approach seems to be zero approach. We’ll hunker down in self-defense mode and let them die out.”
“Ya ever seen a dog after it gets hit by a car, kid?” Roost said. “Things get crazed. They’re bold and messy. Turn yer back on that, and ya best expect some teeth to come clampin’ down on yer kiester. There’s a chance they’ll just up-and-die on their own, sure, but there’s also a chance they’ll come back from it, meaner and worse off for the trouble. Docks have reported multiple shipments coming in daily for them. And these shipments, they ain’t good, Derek. They got some bad shit comin’ in. We’re thinkin’ guns—big, bad ones—and who-knows-what-else.”
Just about every type of weapon went through my head.
Assault rifles. Sniper rifles. Grenade launchers. RPGs.
Perhaps it sounded obscene to an outsider, but given that they already dealt in pistols and rifles and were now apparently like a hit, crazed dog out of its mind… I couldn’t put anything past them.
Falcon might have operated by destroying minds first, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t pull in the literal big guns to destroy bodies as well.
“Well, shit,” I said. “How do we fight that?”
“That all depends on whether or not yer willing to fight fire with fire or if yer gonna stick to yer grits an’ honor yer old man’s rules.”
I bit my lip at that, knowing that my dad wouldn’t want to see the Saviors dealing in weapons and machines of war. That wasn’t what we were about.
But on the other hand, the idea that we could fight fucking grenade launchers with personal handguns was just laughable. It was worse than bringing a knife to a gun fight—it was more like bringing a pebble from someone’s front yard to a gun fight. It was like bringing a kid’s toy to a gunfight. It was…
It was a fucked up situation, is what it was.
And yet, so long as my father’s legacy reigned, I couldn’t let us turn into a second version of the Falcons.
“I’m not gonna rape my dad’s legacy by turning us into them.”
“Glad to hear it,” Roost said with an appreciative nod. “Shows that yer head’s still in the right place… fer the most part, at least. An,’ fer what it’s worth, I agree. We ain’t gonna get anywhere that way.”
What I hadn’t managed to get out was, “but eventually, we may have to become them to defeat them.” I loved my father, but I loved him in part because he was a pragmatist. A pragmatist who had strong ethics and beliefs, but a pragmatist all the same.
Nevertheless, the ease with which Roost agreed to me suggested that he might know something I did not that would prevent us from turning into a dirty-fighting SWAT unit.
“So what would you suggest?” I asked, hoping to get more.
“Not positive yet,” Roost admitted.
Well, shit. Guess maybe we do need to call in the big guns.
“Meantime, I got some of our guys watchin’ the docks for us for now. And a few of our sources with the PD are doin’ what they can to slow shit from their side. ‘Cept they can’t do much all at once. Protocol and all, y’know. I’m not thrilled to throw the word around, but this is eventually gonna work itself up to a full-scale war.”
Too late.
“The war’s already beg
un,” I said. “It began when I killed Rock, when we smashed their piggybank and proved they aren’t as strong as they wanted to believe.”
“So is there somethin’ you wanna do, then?”
I didn’t have anything in mind other than getting more guns and more protection.
That day would come, perhaps as soon as within a few hours, depending on what retaliatory measures the Falcons used—it was bad enough they’d already killed Brick and snatched up Tyler—but that time was not quite yet here. If reconnaissance and red tape worked for now, I’d deal with it.
“Afraid not,” I said.
“Then we will see how bad we can stick it to them with their shipments in the meantime.”
I nodded, still thinking.
Then I remembered how Roost and Eagle had helped me on a mission of a more personal nature recently.
“While you’re working on that, can you get your guys to check something for me? Something a little more… personal?”
“What’s that?” Roost asked, raising his eyebrow again. “I ain’t helpin’ ya with yer love life fuckups.”
“Chuck,” I said simply. “And not in relation to Eve. Well… you know what I mean.”
“Nope,” Roost said. “What ‘bout him?”
I wiped my face and looked up at him, my own eyebrows doing a little dance as I did. Now I wanted to be the one who called him out for being a fool and not getting it.
“I know I fucked up with Eve. I know I have a long way to go to make things right, and I’m the one who split us apart. But Chuck played a major role in all of this. Call it revenge or whatever you want, but I want him tracked. I want to know what he’s doing so I can go give him a taste of my own medicine. I wanna know everything about him, and I wanna know if he’s got more going on with the Falcons than he’s letting on.”
I’m not sure Roost was on board until I mentioned doing this from the perspective of trailing the Black Falcons. But as soon as I did that, it was a no brainer for him.
“Ya got it, boss,” Roost said, making a note on a scrap of paper.
“Thanks,” I said, and then I remembered one more thing. “Oh, and Roost?”
