Truth

by A. C. Bextor

  “Max…” she starts with my name, and I hate the word from her mouth. I don’t remember this Dee Dee saying it with so much sincerity, and although I’m trying not to fall for the sobering and sad act, I still pity her.

  Straightening my posture and leaning against the bar opposite of her, I ask, “What is it you need this morning?”

  Wiping a stray tear which has fallen down her cheek, Dee Dee sinks further into herself and starts to plead. “I know you don’t understand…”

  Cutting her off, I don’t allow her to make shallow excuses. “No, Dee Dee, I don’t,” I voice harshly. “I don’t understand how you’d allow yourself to be caught up in a place like this, to be treated the way you are by men who couldn’t give a flyin’ fuck about you.”

  “It’s not easy to explain,” she returns quickly.

  “Then don’t,” I counter with an annoyed tone she couldn’t have missed. “But you? I don’t give two fucks about anymore. Your little girl, Casey? I certainly do.”

  “They took her away from me,” she claims, now sounding not only twitchy from loss of drugs but also extremely exasperated. “They told me she needed to be kept in that room and away from the men who live here.”

  “And why’s that?” I know the answer, but I want her to say it.

  Her answer is childish, weak, and not what I care to hear. “I don’t know.”

  “You do know. It’s because you call this her home. Emma…” I stop briefly to recollect my thoughts before tainting Em’s name by bringing her into this ridiculous conversation. “Emma loves that little girl. I’ve come to care about her. She could live with Em and live a normal fuckin’ life as any other kid would, but you won’t let that happen.”

  Her next question comes so off-the-mark and as a surprise. “Can you keep her safe?”

  “What?”

  Slightly annoyed, I watch Dee Dee inhale deeply and nervously use her fingers to pull her bottom lip hard before asking again, “Can you keep her safe?”

  “From what?” I ask with a sneer. “She’s not safe now!”

  Further annoyed yet talking in circles, she asks again, phrasing it much differently. “If something happens to me, can you take care of her?”

  Putting down my glass and crossing my arms over my chest, still unsure where she’s going with this, I question, “What do you care what happens to her if you’re not around?”

  “Stop,” she whispers.

  With my voice growing more agitated, I keep going. My arms stretch out at either side, indicating the filthy room we’re standing in. “No, really, Dee Dee. Tell me. I’d like to know how Casey’s life would change if you were alive or dead? So I’ll ask again, why do you care?”

  “Max,” she interrupts after she gets my point. “Things weren’t always like this here. When Viktor came…”

  Cutting her off, I respond, “Then when he came, you should’ve taken Casey and got the fuck out of here, but you didn’t.”

  “It was too late.”

  “It’s never too late to save your own child from this life, Dee Dee.”

  Looking down again with shame, Dee Dee goes back to where we started. “Can you keep her safe?”

  “Nothing will happen to you,” I assure, not knowing what the fuck she’s going on about. “But something might happen to Casey if you don’t wise the fuck up.”

  Crossing her arms over her chest and looking down at her feet, she doesn’t bother defending herself. “It’s too late for me, Max.”

  “Dee Dee.” I manage to get out my first words without hostility. “Look at me.”

  When her eyes capture mine, I find they’re lost to a world of sadness and regret. Her whisper is broken and barely audible. “Can you help her?”

  “Yes,” I assure. “I can.”

  “Even if it means you have to become a member of Creed to protect her? To become one of them?” she finally asks, losing her breath to the paralyzing fear of my answer.

  “It won’t come to that.”

  “Tell me that if it does, you’ll do everything you can for her.”

  “I will.”

  “Thank you,” she breathes, this time in relief. “I’m going back to my room. Hangar’s probably wondering where I went.”

  “He didn’t go out on the ride with the rest of them?”

  “No.” Her head shakes with her answer. “Hoss told him he had to stay here and behave.”

  “He’s a monster. I don’t know how you ever ended up with such a piece of shit.”

  Her smile is short and once again full of sadness. “I lost the one good man I ever knew.”

  Understanding her insinuation, I take a collective breath before answering. “You never had me and you know it.”

  “Emilyn did,” she accounts softly.

  “She still does,” I reply. “And now she always will.”

  The truth of my words stings, but it needed to be said between us.

  Nodding in agreement, Dee Dee turns around and heads out of the bar. Before I let her walk away completely, I stop her. “Dee?”

  “Yeah?”

  I loathe the wasted woman standing in front of me, but I’m also experienced in self-hatred and have witnessed what feeling that way about yourself does to those around you. “If you ever decide you want out of here, you let me know and I’ll do what I can to help make that happen.”

  “And Casey?”

  “She’s going to be with Emma. No matter.”

  I stand firm, allowing this information to process through her used mind.

  Finally, she answers. “There’s nothing outside of this place that wants me, Max. And I never let myself believe it before, so I won’t now.”

  After all she’s done and knowing what she says is probably the truth, I keep quiet, watch her as she turns around and walks away.

  Deciding to push my luck now that I know most of the members are gone and Hangar is tucked away, sulking in his room after his well-deserved Cilas ass-kicking, I make my way down the hall to where Viktor’s office sits. When I approach, the door is open and I see he’s inside on the phone, speaking in Russian.

  It’s best to let him know I’m here, so I knock heavily on the door jamb. It’s not that I can understand his Russian language, but he doesn’t know that and I’d rather not piss him off.

  I hear him say in English, “I’ve got to go. Make the arrangements,” before putting the phone down back on its cradle.

  “Max, pleasant surprise,” he greets once he stands and motions his hand to the chair in front of his desk.

  “Did you get my note?” I ask while walking in and taking the seat in front of him.

  “I did,” he confirms. “It was my first of many surprises this morning.”

  “First of many?” I ask, cautiously studying the smile on his face. Viktor’s smile appears to be genuine, and since I’ve never see this, I’m guarded.

  “I sent Hoss and his animals out on what you Americans call a goose chase this morning,” he tells me. “I wasn’t sure he’d take the bait, but my men tend to be better actors than I probably pay them for. How’s the shiner?” He smiles and points to his eye.

  “Better,” I reply without smiling back. I hadn’t had time today to think back to the confrontation with his mule.

  “No punches thrown from you as of late?” he asks with a smirk still in place.

  “Not yet. It’s still early, though.”

  “Tell me,” he begins while folding his hands on his desk. “Tell me what brings you to my office this afternoon.”

  “Making sure you got my message and we’re good.”

  Sitting back in his chair, he places his elbows on the armrests and steeples his hand as though in prayer. He thinks to himself momentarily before speaking. “I have a job for you to help me with tonight.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You’re going to see exactly what it is I do, specifically, for someone in need. Maybe I can convince you that I’m not at all as bad as you think I am.” />
  This isn’t possible. No one could convince me Viktor sells women for any reason other than to line his own pockets.

  Rather than voice my opinion, I inquire, “Time?”

  “Eleven. There’s someone coming in from the city. A man by the name of Dextor Ahrens. He’s in the same business I am, but he’s more global, for lack of a better term. And I’ve just found out he’s interested in one of my girls.”

  “Dextor Ahrens?” I ask, even though I’m sure I’m not familiar with the name. I would like more information to pass to Brayden or Aimes, if I can get back in contact, though.

  “Yes,” he replies, but gives nothing more.

  “Which girl?”

  “That is not your concern,” he answers, completely dismissing my question. “We’ll be holding it right here in my office.”

  “Okay,” I confirm, but with the tightness in his face, I immediately sense he’s not finished.

  Lifting his finger to his mouth, crossing his other arm over his chest and looking down, Viktor gets to the crux of my position and does so in such a way nothing is left to doubt. “You’re not to say anything during this meeting. You’re not to discuss any offers or counters as the meeting continues, and you’re to have no contact with those present in the meeting once they’re gone. The consequences of doing any of these will cost someone close to you their life.”

  Point taken.

  “Understood,” I assure.

  “Good,” he confirms.

  I start to stand, and as I do, Viktor stands with me. “So, you really sent Hoss and his crew out today?”

  “I did. The men in this establishment wear me down, Max. At one time, I believed I had a place here, that I was doing good things. But it’s been made clear by those who dwell here and their hideous behavior that I don’t belong. They’re exhausting. They’re not like you and me. They’re more…”

  “They aren’t the savoring kind,” I return lightly with a smirk of my own.

  Slapping me on the shoulder as I step through the threshold and out in the hall, Viktor replies with a wicked grin, “They aren’t men I’d miss if I had them all killed. Put it that way.”

  A bone chilling cold settles over me hearing him speak so boldly and unattached regarding death. Under his ruse of attempted friendship, I had momentarily forgotten who I was dealing with.

  “Tonight,” I confirm tightly.

  Turning around and walking back down the hall, I hear Viktor’s office door close. I don’t chance to look around to see which side of it he’s standing on and instead just get going. I want to go home.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I’ve been away from my apartment only for a night and part of today, but I come home from the club to find Em has rearranged furniture, drawers, cleaned out the cabinets, and ironed all of my fucking tee shirts.

  Apparently, when Em is stressed, she uses her energy to clean so she can exhaust herself. This isn’t something I had known about her before, but I do now and it helps lighten my mood, even in the midst of all the hell around me.

  Standing outside on my apartment balcony, I grab my phone to call and find out where she’s gone. I didn’t get home until about twenty minutes ago, and there wasn’t a note. Since I’ve been so out of touch, I hadn’t checked in on her schedule for the week.

  “Where are you?” I ask when she answers on the third ring. I hear the crowd around her, so I know she’s not working.

  “Shopping,” she breathes, and she sounds exhausted.

  “Shopping where?”

  Not answering my question, Emma gives me notice as to why she sounds as she does. “Max, did you know your mom is a price-matching scavenger?”

  “You’re with Mom?”

  “I am,” she confirms. I hear my mother asking her something in the background and then hear Em attempt to keep her quiet. “We’re coming home soon. Where are you?”

  “You did my laundry.” It’s not a question.

  Her surprise is genuine. “You’re at the apartment now?”

  “Yes, baby. I told you I was coming back as soon as I could.”

  “He’s home now?” I hear my mom cut in from a distance.

  I hear Emma cover the phone with her hand and attempt to calm my mother. I look up to the sky and wonder why I bothered calling. Those two yap like chickens.

  “We’ll be there in about an hour. Call Tommy?”

  “Thought I’d call you first,” I inform her. It’s good to hear her voice, to know she hasn’t been sitting here in the apartment and in constant worry. If anyone can do that, it’s my mom, and I’m thankful.

  Her voice gets soft as she replies, “Thank you, but call him now.”

  “Don’t be bossy. Let me go and I’ll call him now.”

  Em breathes her relief into the phone then says, “Good. I’ll see you soon.”

  “Okay, baby. I’ll be here.”

  “I love you, Max.”

  “See you soon,” I answer before hanging up.

  I know Tommy and since all this started I also know he’s done nothing but sit around and be sick with worry. I feel bad about it, but there’s nothing more I can do except keep him in the loop and check in to remind him I’m okay.

  After I dial, he answers on the first ring as I figured he would. I hear the apprehension in his voice. “Max. Where are you?”

  “Home, for now.”

  “Thank fuck. I’ve been waitin’ to hear if you’ve heard anything from Aimes or Low.”

  I picture Tommy pacing the floor between time spent keeping Denver in line and making sure Natalie’s happy. He spends his life loving and caring for them both.

  “No, not yet. But I bet the fucker is plotting,” I inform.

  Smiling into the phone, he replies, “To blow shit up, I bet.”

  “Probably,” I answer on a shrug, even though he can’t see it.

  “How’s the girl?”

  “Casey’s as good as she can be.”

  Tommy exhales and I hear it through the line. “That’s good news.”

  “How’s the dweeb?” I ask in reference to his daughter’s date.

  He laughs. “Fucker had her ass home thirty minutes early for both dates. Den said my long hair scares him.”

  “Your hair?” I ask. “Not the gun you’ve been shining to show off for him?”

  “Nope,” he snaps. “Told you, he’s a dweeb.” He laughs. “Thinkin’ maybe Em’s right. It’s the bad boys I gotta worry about.”

  “Right.”

  “Thanks for callin’. Let me know if you need anything. I’m taking Denver out shooting this afternoon.”

  Smiling again, I picture Tommy’s rambunctious teenager wielding a weapon. He must know what’s going through my mind when he says, “Yeah, I want every little fucker to know she’s my kid, and I plan to make her a good shot.”

  “Take care, Tommy.”

  “You stay breathin’, Max. If Den finds a bad boy not so unlike you and the others, I’ll need backup,” he tells me.

  This is his way of using passive words to tell me he’s concerned. I accept it without chastising him. “Got it.”

  “Out,” he replies, and the line goes dead.

  Just as I’m about to walk back into the house, I hear the front door being opened. When I glance up, I find Emma walking through it with bags in her hands and my mother in tow. Mom’s hands are full of as many bags as Emma’s, but Mom’s face is tight.

  While she’s setting her things on the kitchen counter and I walk into the house I barely have time to catch Em as she comes darting across the room and into my quickly opened arms. The force of her arrival pushes us both back a step until my back hits the sliding glass door leading to the balcony.

  I’m forced to smile wide at her response to seeing me again. Through all the chaos, she’s the only peace I’m ever given.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” she tells me as her legs wrap around my waist and she uses her arms to hold me tightly to her. “I’ve missed you,” she s
ays into my neck.

  Kissing her temple, I lock eyes with my mother who’s standing speechless and fully encumbered at the door.

  “I’ve missed you, too, sweetheart,” I whisper softly.

  Putting her on her feet, my hand grabs hers as I kiss the crown of her head. “You have a good day?”

  Releasing me completely and stepping back, she rests her hands on my chest. “I did. Come sit and I’ll show you what we got.”

  “Honey?” Mom calls quietly. She’s had a look at my face. Em did, as well, but I’m not sure she even noticed. She was there when it happened, so it’s understandable she wasn’t surprised to find it’s still present.

  “Yeah, Mom?”

  “Who did that to you?” She points to her eye then positions her finger near her face where I’m bruised. “And don’t tell me you fell. You’ve been in enough fights I already know what’s what.”

  I’m surprised, with this being a small town, that Mom hadn’t yet heard what happened. Or why Em hadn’t mentioned it to her.

  I look at Em now and her hands move to the front of her body, as though telling me she’s out of this.

  “It’s nothing,” I tell my mother, grabbing Em’s hand again and walking toward her near the door. “I’m fine.”

  “Fine,” she repeats, seeing straight through my lie as only my mother truly could. “Well, I hope you got your one-two in and the person who did it’ll think twice about picking on my son again.”

  “He won’t do it again,” Em puts in. “And the other guy was the bully, not Max.”

  My mom smiles and a look of pride follows soon after. Even at my age, she can make me feel worthy while showing her appreciation.

  “We ran into Greg this afternoon,” Mom mentions and after hearing her words, my head lifts in attention. Em’s expression is nervous.

  “And?” I prod.

  “He didn’t seem too surprised or upset that I was shopping with your mother,” Em explains.

  “He was very cordial,” Mom puts in behind Emma. “He asked how she had been doing and told her he wishes her well. I was impressed.”