I left my office and sought out the weapons I used to fight the shadow and maintain my illusion of power. My mind was being overrun with flashes of memories, feelings of pain. I needed them gone, locked away where they belonged, until all that was left was a song. Time was not on my side. I could feel it coming quickly; the shadow was waiting for me to falter. It would not win. I reached for my phone and dialed, failing miserably to keep the panic from my voice as I demanded an impromptu meeting. I didn’t need to explain why. Marci was more than willing to put her skills to good use, but I needed more, much more. A second phone call was made. The desperation in my request wasn’t missed and within minutes, I arrived back at the junkyard with one thing in mind: to beat back the darkness.
It took three days of fucking, sucking, and of course…pain, to beat the shadow back, three days until I could finally hear nothing but the song. In my mind, I was winning the battle on my terms, without the hand holding and coddling from Buck and my brothers. I didn’t need them, any of them. Buck had held me together so long that when he died, I knew my life was all but over. He had been the only one who knew my struggle, the reasons why I never felt normal. I stopped caring about everything. My family, friends, work; it all meant nothing without Buck. I hurt so many people and yet they never gave up until I left them little choice. Time after time, my friends begged me to come back to the junkyard so they could help me. I wasn’t some kind of charity case. I didn’t need their fucking help, nor did I want it. They had it so fucking easy, tough military man, sensitive gentlemen, and hardworking, dependable rock. I wanted to replace them all, toss them aside like yesterday’s trash, so I let a deranged psychopath take their place. I lost it all: my brothers, my father, my home, and I’d never felt so alone in all my life.
I wondered around those first few months away from the junkyard. Picked up strange women and fucked my way through the entire east coast. The days turned into weeks; before long, the nameless faces claimed more and more of my heartless soul until I was nothing more than an empty shell. Food and water kept me alive, but that was far from living; it was existing, like a nomad traveling along the Sahara Desert with no place to call home. I was lost. I grew tired of it all, the nightmares, the not giving a fuck about anything including myself. I wasn’t that man; he was weak and frail. Buck had taught me to be strong and brave. I did the one thing the four of us vowed never to do: I gave up, tossed in my chips, “pussied” out. Well, fuck that. No more.
I returned to the beginning, where the bullshit had started and my life had been fucked. I stood outside the doors to the one place I’d vowed to never walk through again, and I waited. For what? Divine intervention? A lightning bolt? I was hoping for any sign that would convince me this was a bad idea and I needed to turn the fuck around and leave. I had so many questions that needed to be answered, but was this the right way to get them? My brothers, who I loved more than life, told me to get my shit together or I wasn’t welcomed back at the junkyard. As much as I hated ultimatums, they were right. The time had come for me to make a move. I was a mess of a man, wrinkled clothing, overgrown hair, and a week’s worth of stubble that was now a full beard. I looked like shit. I reached up for the brass doorknocker and froze solid. I had to fight to take in enough air to fill my lungs just as sweat began to trickle down the sides of my temples. My legs became weak, no longer able to hold my weight. I sank to my knees just before the blackness took me and I toppled over onto my back into nothingness.
HAVEN
Another day, another dollar.
I reminded myself as I got myself ready to face another long and tiresome work day. It’s not that I didn’t enjoy my work. I chose this career at an early age and knew right away I wanted to help people, especially the sick. It was the actual clientele who left me flat and feeling like I should have become an accountant. This was my second private duty assignment since I’d graduated nursing school at the top of my class, proudly. I’d been the youngest out of the fifty or so men and women in the area. I decided that instead of applying to the top hospitals in the area, I would offer my services as a private nurse to any and all upper-scale clients who were willing to pay my agreed-upon salary. I wasn’t money hungry, nor did I have dreams of a lavish wardrobe or an expensive vacation. Every dollar made was deposited directly into my savings account, never to be touched until the time was right. I drove the rattiest car and lived in a rented room instead of a furnished apartment, although I had the means to pay for something better. None of that mattered to me. Keeping up with the Joneses could fuck right off. I had goals to keep and little time to mess around.
The evening nurse had phoned me at four thirty this morning and begged me to cover the rest of her shift due to a family emergency, one of many might I add, and usually on a Friday morning. She wasn’t scheduled to work the weekends and could have an early start to her drinking and partying like she often bragged about first thing every Monday morning. On the one hand, it pissed me off something fierce knowing she took advantage of me, but at the same time, I was happy to help out a colleague who had a healthy and happy social life. I didn’t have that luxury; fun and fancy free was a myth in my eyes, a fable told to young girls as a bribe to ward off growing up too fast and experimenting with sex. I didn’t have any friends I could call up and just hang out with and enjoy a nice dinner or a movie on a Saturday night. My time was spent working my ass off and saving every cent, unlike other twenty-something-year-old women in the world. I didn’t know the first thing about having a night of fun, free of responsibility and worry about where my next meal would come from. Some girls have all the luck.
I stepped out of the steaming shower and glanced at my weary reflection in the bathroom mirror. I hardly recognized the woman staring back at me. Dark shadows surrounded my eyes, more appropriate for someone twice my age. My grey eyes lacked any sort of natural spark to them, but at least they matched the bags underneath that were more like suitcases. I don’t remember the last time I laughed out loud at a joke someone told or smiled to myself while remembering a happy time from my childhood. Those memories were few and far between, not since my parents had died and left us behind to be cared for by a family member. I was twelve and my brother, Landon, was six when a cousin petitioned the court to become our guardians. They told us we were blessed that we were able to stay together, considering most siblings were separated when they entered the system. No one wanted to care for one child, much less two if they didn’t have to. We hadn’t been blessed; we’d been damned by a set of circumstances that were beyond our control.
I didn’t want to think about that, not now, not ever. I wrapped a towel around my chest and another around my hair, and made my way back to my room to get dressed. Dredging up the past was a colossal waste of time for everyone, especially myself. Nothing would change it, no matter how hard I tried. Luckily, my uniform was already pressed and ready to go, considering I’d be starting work at seven this morning instead of my usual nine o’clock. Freshly dressed and determined to push forward, I rushed out the door, hopped into my piece-of-shit Nissan, and began the short drive to another hard day’s work.
The senator’s mansion was a thing of beauty, so picture perfect, it belonged on page five of Home and Garden magazine. Manicured lawns, without those pesky lines from the mower like the other houses around the neighborhood. I often wondered how they managed that. It was as if, a giant alien spaceship came down and in one swoop cut the grass without leaving a trace. The sheer opulence of this place was staggering, completely over the top. Grecian fountains, tropical plants found in places like the Caribbean, and a six-car garage that was filled to the rim with everything from sedans to exotics. Maybe I should have thrown my hat into politics if this place was the standard. Then again, that’s the rich for you; they always live high on the hog. It wasn’t my place to judge, but how could I not? They made it so easy for someone like me to form my own opinion, someone who’s very…not rich.
They made their own rules when it cam
e to just about everything, hiding behind expensive lawyers, PR reps, and non-disclosure agreements. Lies to everyone else became truth in their eyes, as long as they were the ones telling them. It never mattered if the story was completely over the top, boarding on fantasy; as long as you had enough money, you could somehow make it fact. It was one big game to them, reinventing themselves while creating their own realities. I would never understand it, nor did I want to. I didn’t need to get to know them as human beings or appreciate their so-called “hard work” that got them to the top. I left that up to the status quo. I only needed one thing and one thing only: their money. To hell with the rest. I was determined to use them just as much as they used me to get what I wanted. As long as I kept my head down and performed my daily duties like I was hired to do, I would walk away with a loaded bank account and a glowing recommendation I needed for the next client. That was one thing I could say about the rich: they didn’t mind sharing the hired help, as long as you did what you were told and followed the rules. I had no problem signing non-disclosure agreements. Who was I going to tell anyway? Did I see and hear strange things that made me wonder, what the fuck? Sure, but it wasn’t my place to make waves or ask questions. I was hired to be a nurse, not an investigative reporter. This assignment would end soon enough and I would leave it all behind just like I did the last one.
I pulled my old jalopy toward the back entrance that was designated for servants and other hired help, when I spotted a strange mound of … Wait? Is that a body? I immediately slammed on my breaks, which caused them to squeal, and bolted from the driver’s seat to get a closer look. I didn’t bother wasting time turning off the piece of shit; chances were the engine would cut off on its own. I stood over the body and recognized right away that it was a man lying on his back with is eyes closed. There was no blood or visual signs of trauma, but I had to get closer in order to be sure. Thank God, my nursing instincts kicked in automatically and I sprang into action and tried to help the poor guy.
He was breathing on his own, which was a good sign. I didn’t have my face shield, and the last thing I wanted to do was suck face with a complete stranger. I ran back to my car and grabbed an old sweater I kept in the backseat in case of emergencies and carefully placed it behind his head. He was young; if I had to guess, I’d say under thirty years old and in relatively good health. He was well dressed, judging from the quality of his clothing. Although they were wrinkled and stained, they were brand names, right down to the leather loafers he wore on his feet. I reached for his hand to check his pulse when I noticed the manicured nails; it had been a while between visits, but that last one must have cost a fortune. His pulse was a bit elevated, but it was strong at one hundred beats per minute with no signs of any breathing obstruction. Maybe he was tired and just decided to crawl up on the senator’s front steps and take a nap? As a trained professional, it was a stupid assessment, but hey, I took a shot. Since there were no other signs of distress, I needed to find a way to wake him up so I could get a better idea of what the hell was going on. I patted his scruffy cheek as lightly as I could and tried not to startle him. I spoke calmly toward his prone body, my face mere inches away from his.
“Okay, buddy, rise and shine.” I continued to gently pat while I held his wrist, still checking his pulse for spikes.
“That’s a good boy, come on, open your eyes.” He gave a long growl deep from within his throat then reached down with his free hand and…Are you fucking kidding me right now? Mystery man grabbed his junk and slowly began to massage his balls through his expensive jeans right in front of my face. That’s exactly why I hated men in general, always thinking with their dicks instead of using common sense. You’re lying on the ground passed out, and the first thing you think of is to grab your cock? Asshole. He still hadn’t opened his eyes, but since it was obvious he wasn’t really hurt, I decided to end this little charade as quickly as possible. One hard smack to the face to get his ass up and moving along. I needed him and his stupid cock out of my hair, nursing duties be damned. Slap
“What the fuck.” He jackknifed forward from his position and shoved me backwards with enough force to leave me flat on my ass with my legs spread eagled for the world to see.
“Jesus, woman, what the hell did you hit me for?” We were both breathing heavily, him from the slap and me from being thrown to the ground unexpectedly. The shock left us both speechless, staring at each other like two fools who couldn’t come up with a single word at that moment. Just like that, he went from extremely pissed off to Peeping fucking Tom when he noticed that my legs were open far enough to see my cotton underwear. He stopped scowling long enough to lick his lips and…did he just moan out loud? What the actual fuck? I gave my head a shake to clear out the cobwebs, jumped to my feet, and straightened out my now dirty uniform before I issued him an order. I squared my shoulders and pointed down at his shocked but handsome face.
“Find someplace else to sleep, asshole. This isn’t a halfway house. Move along before I call the cops and have you arrested for trespassing.” I hightailed it back to my car, happy that it was still actually running, and hit the gas. I was too pissed to look back and see if he took my advice. That’s the last time I’d stop to help someone in need. Fucking pervert. Good riddance.
MAXWELL
Don’t dangle an apple in front of my face and expect me not to take a bite of it. My dick had a mind of its own and never hesitated to get hard around a beautiful woman. Minor obstacles like lying unconscious on a hard-as-fuck concrete slab didn’t mean shit when I felt her soft touch or got a whiff of her sweet perfume. That nurse’s costume was certainly a nice touch. I watched her sitting there with her legs spread open after I’d inadvertently pushed her down. Fuck me, it was enough to give me a nice-sized stiffy. Under normal circumstances I would have fucked her three ways to Sunday, or at least tried to. She had that deer in the headlights look on her face, until she caught me staring at her pussy; then she was the Tasmanian Devil and tried to rip my face off.Now that I was wide awake thanks to Nurse Ratchet and her heavy hand, I remembered that this was not a normal circumstance and I was not in the middle of the best sexual fantasy I’d had in years. I was back in the nightmare that had caused me to pass out in the first place. I was home.
I stood up on shaky legs and dusted myself off, a poor attempt at making myself look presentable. It didn’t matter. I was home, the place where your family accepted you no matter what, right? Killed your father? We don’t care, come on over. Got my girlfriend kidnapped and nearly stabbed to death? No problem, it was an honest mistake. Turn your back on the only people in the world who loved you? Hey, shit happens; my door was always open to family. I had that once, the best father and friends a man could ask for. Growing up at the junkyard was the best thing that had ever happened to me; it made me who I was today, until I fucked up one too many times and was forced to leave it behind. I missed my brothers more and more with each passing day, not knowing what I had until it was finally gone. Range and his constant need to shower ten times a day could only be appreciated if you witnessed it firsthand. Strangers never knew the guy worked at a junkyard fifteen hours straight just by looking at him; he would die before he allowed himself to appear unkempt. Sebastian and his over-the-top assessments of just about everything. What I wouldn’t give to hear one of his stories about a killer strain of mosquitoes running rampant in Virginia that was out to kill us all. The older he got, the more outrageous the stories became, until all of our basic human needs would be the death of us one way or another. Where exactly was the danger in pealing the label off a bottle of water you were drinking? That was the stupid shit that made my chest ache with longing to be with my brothers again. The shit I had put Sebastian through when I forced his woman to lie about that night Mitch attacked her was unforgivable. I’d thought protecting Mitch would prevent Range and the rest of the boys from killing him, landing them in jail for the rest of their lives. They saw it as me choosing a stranger over the brotherhood, a dir
ect violation of everything Buck had taught us growing up. Never go against your brothers. Buck said that shit to us every fucking day without fail. He pounded it into our brains so we’d never forget it. I’d made the wrong choice for the right reasons that night, but it didn’t matter. I’d fucked up royally and almost cost Ashley her life.
It had been months since I left town. No one called or tried to text, not that I expected them to, especially not Sebastian. I knew what happened with Ashley cut him deep, deeper than all the fucked-up words I yelled at him when they staged that bullshit intervention. I wanted to make them feel as bad as I felt, knowing that I was the cause of Buck’s death and he was never coming back. I lashed out at each one of them with such venom, I wanted to kick my own ass for it. They didn’t deserve it. I would have tried anything to make them stop caring about me; I wasn’t worth the time or effort. Their lives were moving forward; they were happy and excited about things to come. They found the women of their dreams and were making a go of it, while I lived my life on constant repeat of work, fuck, misery, day after day. I punished myself like King Sisyphus did in the Underworld, pushed that bolder of self-loathing up a hill and watched it roll back and smack me in the face before it reached the top. That look in Clover’s eyes when she begged me to stop hurting my brothers was all too real. I was a cunt for hurting them that way.
A few days after my decision to return home, I received a phone call from Range after months of radio silence. He wasn’t the type of man to go back on his word, and he swore that day at the hospital before my discharge that he would never reach out to me again. The day he and Sebastian came to the hospital and told me I was no longer welcome at the yard killed me. Sure, I was breathing and my heart was beating, but I felt like my life ended in that moment. I realized too late that I needed their support, that they were my lifeline if I had any hope of living a normal life. “Get your shit together,” Range told me, right before he turned his back on me for the very last time and walked away. Hearing his voice on the other end of that phone, the hesitation and mistrust when he asked how I was doing…I had a lot of ground to make up if I wanted my family back. I told Range about my plans to return home, and after everything that happened, all the shit I’d done, he still tried to get me to return to the junkyard. I tried telling him why that could never happen, at least not now, but he could never understand. I no longer deserved the brotherhood, the security of the junkyard, or the unconditional love my family gave me. I’d betrayed them all in the worst possible way, time and time again, choosing my own needs over theirs until the day that need took my father’s life. I deserved these feelings of broken loneliness and pain. I’d caused so much more, it was only right I got my fair share. Somewhere along the line I stopped giving a shit about what happened to me, stopped caring if I lived or died. I needed something in my life that made it worth living again. Going back was the only option. I hadn’t counted on passing out at the front door or getting slapped in the face so hard it made my eyes water. There I was, standing on the precipice between panic and hysteria, and the next thing I felt was the sting of fire on my cheek. If that wasn’t a sign to get my shit together, nothing was.
Salvaging Max Page 2
