by Naomi West
“So, big man?” asked Dakin. “What’s it gonna be?”
I’d had enough. I wasn’t going to stand around like this and let my fate slip out of my hands yet again. It was time for me to make some kind of decision.
“I volunteer!” I said, stepping forward.
The attention of all the men was now on me.
“You what?” asked Dakin, trotting down the steps again.
“I volunteer to go with you. I know I don’t have much say, but I’ll be damned if I go back with … him,” I said, pointing my finger at Tank, my words dripping with venom.
“Well, well, well,” said Dakin. “Looks like girly’s got some spunk in her after all!”
Tank opened his mouth to speak but closed it. It looked to me like he was going to say something, but thought better of it. Good call, if you asked me.
“Well then,” said Dakin, turning back to Tank. “I’m gonna take your silence as agreement to her terms. Best for you two anyway—looks like things might’ve been a little rocky on the home front if you wanted this fine young lady to stick around.”
Dakin turned to his men.
“All right, boys!” he said, pointing to the bikes. “Let’s get what we came for and get the hell out of here!”
The men eagerly talked amongst themselves again, all of them making their way towards their bikes. I stood still for a moment, not sure of what to do. Tank watched the whole thing from the top of the stairs, but I didn’t want to so much as see him looking at me.
But still, if I were being honest with myself, what I felt in that moment wasn’t the anger I was entitled to—it was sadness. Sadness and heartbreak. As stupid as it sounds, I had been hoping that there was something happening between Tank and me—something real. But it had just been a stupid fantasy. I was nothing more than a fucktoy for him, and now that he was bored with me, he’d kicked me over to whoever was willing to pay the highest price. Just my luck it was the man who’d stolen my home from me.
Before I could wonder just where I was going, Dakin grabbed me by the arm. He stared at me with his beady little eyes, the smell of whiskey, cigarettes, and a whiff of BO invading my nostrils.
“You’re comin’ with me, little lady,” he said, leading me to the mess of pipes and chrome that was his enormous bike. “Don’t worry, though—I’m a safe driver.”
He climbed onto his bike and I followed suit, feeling disgusted as I wrapped my arms around him. He gunned the engine and soon we were off. And as we left, I couldn’t help but look back at me, watching Tank grow smaller in the distance as I was rushed towards my uncertain fate.
Chapter Twenty
Tank
I stood on the top of the stairs for a while, staring out onto the vast stretch of my front lawn, the brown crisscrossing of Dakin’s gang’s tire tracks carved into the grass the only sign that they’d been there. Well, that and the faint traces of engine exhaust that hung in the air.
I was goddamn furious; furious that Dakin would make such demands of me in my home. I was furious that he’d gotten the upper hand. But more than being furious, I felt something else. Something like a sharp stabbing in heart, like someone was working a sliver of glass through it. I felt short of breath, like I was needed to sit down.
“You cool, boss?” asked Oslo.
“Fine,” I said, the word coming out in a gruff bark. “Just need to …”
I stumbled over to the step closest to me and took a seat. It was hard for me to put into words what I was feeling, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that it was about Star. First, she’d left. Then she’d learned that Dakin had wanted to use her as a bargaining chip. Then she’d left, the wrong impression etched into her mind. She didn’t realize that I’d had no intention of selling her out to Dakin like that, but when she’d come back at the time she did, that was just how it looked, like I was saying to Dakin, “Look, she’s not here, so I can’t trade her for guns.”
No wonder she was pissed off. I could hardly blame her for wanting to get the fuck out of here as fast as possible. Dakin was a real piece of shit, but it sounded like she’d already had experience with him. Devil you know, I suppose.
“You all right, Tank?” asked Oslo.
I wanted to mull around in my thoughts for a while, but I didn’t have time for a luxury like that. I needed to figure out a plan, and fast. I stood up and turned to Oslo.
“We can’t let this stand,” I said. “We let this pass without retribution then Dakin’s gonna think that all he’ll need to get what he wants is to pull up onto my front lawn and demand it. Maybe killing one of our own again in the process.”
“Bulldog’s dead, and Dakin’s the man who did it. Now he thinks he can just grab us by the balls whenever he wants a deal.”
I was liking Oslo more and more—he didn’t need to have shit explained to him.
“That’s right,” I said. “Call the boys over. Emergency fuckin’ meeting.”
Oslo nodded and went off inside the house, leaving me by myself. Which is what I wanted.
During the time it took the men to arrive, I wondered just what I wanted. I wanted to crush Dakin’s head like a goddamn melon, that’s for fuckin’ sure. But what about Star? Just what did I want with that girl? I was beginning to realize that the arrangement that we’d started out with—her being an expensive piece of property—just wasn’t going to cut it. So what did I want? A housewife? A fucking girlfriend?
I shuddered as these words entered my thoughts. I’d never, never, and I mean never, imagined myself to be the kind of guy who had a lady waiting for him at home. I was happy with my boys and my bike, and if I needed some ass every now and then, that was always in supply. But now, as I thought of Star, I wondered just what it would be like to have a woman like her, a woman who’d make me dinner, a woman I could take out for a night on the town, a woman I could slap on the ass and she’d giggle and tell me to cut it out, a woman I could make love to …
I rushed inside, the thoughts I was having about Star feeling like they’d been implanted by an alien or some shit. I poured myself a strong belt of whiskey and slammed it back. I knew I should’ve kept myself sober, but I just need to feel fucking normal again.
Soon, I could hear the engines of the Warhawks as they pulled up the house. I went out onto the porch to greet them, and I was happy to see bikes parked in the driveway and not on the goddamn front lawn, as Dakin’s crew had done. The boys filed into the house, and I directed them to the lounge. Once they were squared up and ready to go, I took my place at the front of the group.
“First thing’s first,” I said, pulling out a couple of bottles of whiskey and handing them to the men. “Oslo’s your new VP. He’s earned your respect, and that’s what I expect out of you. He’s a good man, and he’s going to be a huge help in the days to come.”
Oslo stood at my side, and while I could tell he was a little surprised by this decision, he played it cool. Still, I could see his chest puff out a little. I already knew I’d made the right decision—he was the king of keeping things close to the chest, not unstable like Cruiser could be. I needed a cool head and a sharp mind, and that’s what Oslo would bring to the table. The nods of the men made it clear that they agreed with my decision.
“What about Dakin?” piped a voice from the crowd.
“Yeah,” asked Bowie. “We gonna have war or what?”
Chatter broke out among the men, and Oslo raised his palms to quiet them down. They complied.
“Boss, can I say something?” asked Oslo.
I was a little surprised, but gave him a nod to go on.
“We know that this is about the girl,” he said. “More than that, but she’s the match that set off this whole powder keg.”
I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes. Where was he going with this?
“And I did some talking with the boys before they came over, and we want you to know that if you wanna get this girl back, then we’re right there with you. We know she means more
to you than just some piece of ass, and we’re gonna do whatever it takes to make things right.”
I shifted my weight from one foot to the other as I weighed these words. As much as I hated having my affairs be public knowledge, it brought me a measure of pride to know that my boys had my back.
“You know what that means, right?” I asked the men. “It means war with Dakin’s crew. I’ve seen where Dakin’s set up shop—he’s got enough guns to take on the National Guard. And enough coke to keep his boys blitzed out of their minds until they’ve shot every last bullet.”
“This meant war as soon as Dakin started telling us what the fuck to do,” said Rex.
“It was war as soon as he killed Bulldog,” said Bowie.
The men all broke into a din of approving chatter.
They were right. If I’d thought that we’d be able to skate through this situation without coming to blows with Dakin and his crew, then I was out of my fucking mind. Still, this meant that my boys would be at risk. As much as I loved the life of an outlaw, seeing my men end up dead was a price that I never wanted to pay.
I raised my palms to bring silence back over the crew.
“Then we’re gonna have to hit them hard and fast,” I said. “They outnumber us, and we’ll never win a long, drawn-out war with a crew like that. They’d take us out, man by man, until we were wiped out. Then they’d have this region all to themselves.”
“Unacceptable,” said Oslo. “We can’t let a psycho like Dakin have control over this territory. His crew would squeeze every last drop out of the region and leave it to shit.”
“My thoughts exactly,” I said.
I measured my next words carefully. Whatever I decided next would have major consequences.
But I knew what needed to be done.
“We hit them tonight,” I said, striding back and forth in front of the crew. “We carve out the heart of the crew and leave them crippled.”
“And kill Dakin,” said Oslo.
“And we kill that fucker Dakin.”
“They’re not expecting a hit tonight. They’ll be at their headquarters, probably celebrating their ‘victory’ over the Warhawks. They won’t be expecting us to attack.”
“And that’s exactly why we’re gonna do it,” agreed Oslo.
“Then let’s not waste another second.”
Chapter Twenty-One
I couldn’t believe it. After all this time, after all that I’d been through, I was back in my old bedroom. Dakin had brought me here, to my old home, which he was now using as a headquarters for whatever operations he and his gang were getting up to in the area. He’d thought it’d be really funny to toss me in here and lock the door.
“Take a look at these here windows,” he said, strolling over to the window that I’d made my escape from.”
He opened the window, revealing a grid of hard black bars.
“Solid steel,” he said, rapping on the bars with his knuckle. “After your last little escape, I decided I wouldn’t make that mistake again. So you’re just gonna sit tight here until I come back. Don’t go getting up to any trouble now, you hear?”
With that, he ducked out of the door, his wicked grin seemingly lingering in the air as he shut the door behind him and locked it. I sat down on the bed, the still air around me so quiet that it was almost oppressive. Looking around my old room, I felt a tugging at my heart as I took stock of the damage that Dakin and his men had done to it. The walls were stained, just about everything had been ripped off the walls, and nearly everything had been pulled off the bookshelves. Here and here lay needles, bits of leftover marijuana, and there was even a small mirror with a couple of partially-unrolled dollar bills next to it. They’d turned my childhood room into a den of just about every kind of sin I could imagine.
Getting up, I decided to check the windows, just in case. I pulled open the window and looked out through the grid of bars at the backyard beyond. Dakin’s men were here and there, hanging out near their bikes and swilling beers, their raunchy voices carrying abrasively through the evening air. I placed my hands on the bar and, sure enough, they were as solid as it got, and bolted onto the house. And even if I somehow managed to get past the bars, there was no way that I’d make it without Dakin’s men seeing me. I was stuck.
I shut the window, now wanting to hear Dakin’s men carry on. I stepped into the bathroom attached, and checked the other door that led to the adjacent study. Surprisingly, it was unlocked. I opened the door, revealing Grandma Dove’s quaint little study, the small, cozy room where she used to read me stories and listen to the radio. Thankfully, Dakin hadn’t given this room the full MC treatment, so it was mostly intact. The bookshelves that lined the walls hadn’t been ransacked, and Grandma Dove’s easy chair was still useable. The small fireplace was packed full of beer cans, however, and the window in here hadn’t been spared the bars. I gave the door handle a try, but my luck wasn’t good enough to have it be unlocked.
Plopping into Grandma’s easy chair, I let my eyes move over the colorful spines of the books packed into the bookshelves. A small smile formed on my face as the title of each one brought me back to the time when Grandma had read it to me, each memory fresh and real. And as I glanced from book to book, my eyes settled on one that I hadn’t noticed before. It was a book with a teal-colored spine and a small symbol on the side that struck me as familiar. My eyes went wide as I realized what it was.
I burst out of my seat, rushing over to the book. Taking it off the shelf, I confirmed what I’d suspected: the symbol was a dove, just like the one on my pendant. And on the cover was no title, but simply a star.
What book is this? I wondered. The dove … my name … no title or author ...
I opened the book up with feverish fingers. To my shock, the pages had been hollowed out. In the space that the pages had occupied was an envelope with my name written on it.
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
My hands shaking, I took the envelope and set the book aside. Slipping my finger into the fold, I opened the envelope. Inside was a folded sheet of paper. I opened it up and a smaller piece of paper fell out of that.
The larger piece of paper was Grandma’s will.
As I scanned it with eager eye, I saw that, sure enough, Grandma had left everything to me. She hadn’t forgotten to leave me the home; she hadn’t forgotten to take care of me. Her illness had simply taken her so suddenly that she hadn’t had a chance to put all of her affairs in order. But in my hands was proof that this home wasn’t Dakin’s—it was mine.
I picked up the smaller piece of paper, the one that was folded inside the will. Unfolding it, I saw that it was a handwritten note, the letters in Grandma’s loopy, ornate handwriting.
Dearest Star,
This house has been a home to me for decades, and for you your entire life. I hope that you can look back on your childhood here with fondness. If you’re reading this, I’ve passed. All that I own is now yours, of course. Use it to build the happy life you deserve.
Grandma Dove
Tears welled in my eyes as I read the note over and over again. I pressed the paper to my breast, overjoyed. I read the will one last time, seeing that she hadn’t simply left me the home and everything it in; there were safety deposit boxes listed on the will. I stuffed the will into my pocket.
My heart sank, however, when I realized that there wasn’t a chance in hell that Dakin would give a damn about what this will had to say. The only way I was getting the house back was by giving him the boot, and how I was going to do that was anyone’s guess.
But now I had a strength that I hadn’t realized I’d possessed. I felt as though Grandma was watching over me, and I felt empowered in a way I’d never before felt.
Placing the book back on the shelf, my eyes moved to some of the nearby rows of books. Something seemed … off about them. They weren’t neatly arranged in the way Grandma had liked them; they seemed to have been haphazardly shoved onto the shelves. As I s
tepped towards them, I realized that there was something very odd going on.
Taking one of the books off of the shelf, I noticed right away that it had a strange feel to it, an uneven distribution of weight that made it feel unlike any book that I’d ever held … with the exception of the book that contained the will. I opened it up, and when I did, I nearly dropped it.
Just as with the book containing the will, the pages were cut out. But instead of an envelope, it was packed full of small baggies of snow-white powder.
Drugs, I realized right way. They’re storing drugs in my home.
I went through book after book, opening them and finding the same story—baggies of drugs. Stepping back, I realized that half of the books had been changed in such a way. Only about halfway through the bookshelf just before the one that held the book containing the will did they stop. It looked like eventually they would’ve gotten to it. I’m sure Dakin would only have been too pleased to find that and tear it to shreds.
