by Hazel Parker
“Well—”
“Just saying, Lilly, it’s nothing more. But it would be great for me to talk to you more.”
Ugh. I’m not getting out of this one. The thing with guys like Kyle is that they might have been genuine when they said it was “nothing more” at the moment. But invariably, as time went by and as feelings grew, “nothing more” wouldn’t be good enough. They’d want a whole lot more, and they felt like they deserved it in some fashion.
Either I’d have to shut him down cold right here and inform him that I was only interested in friendship, or I’d have to hurt him later. I hated that it was coming to this. I hated that the boy I had helped defend from bullying in our childhood had now turned his hopeful eyes to me for a very different reason.
“I’ll meet with you later, but not in the mornings,” I said, which felt like compromise enough for me. “The mornings are my working time.”
“OK, what about Saturday night?”
“Sure, I’ll text you about it.”
I almost put my hand to my mouth to cover a gasp. I’d just agreed to a date with Kyle Stone. I was setting this poor guy up to have his heart shattered and ruined.
Fuck me.
And it wasn’t like he forced me to. My impatience had just won out.
“Sounds great!”
It was not lost on me that Kyle never got coffee before he headed out the door. He hadn’t come for a drink, and he sure wouldn’t come back now that I had told him my mornings were sacred. He’d just come to ask me out.
Well, hell, there was no rule stating that I couldn’t make the most of such a date. I most certainly preferred Jack, but there was no reason that I couldn’t enjoy one date with Kyle and then let him down easy. As long as I didn’t kiss him or lead him on, there wasn’t anything preventing me from having good conversation and a good time with him.
Unfortunately, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that it would be virtually impossible to have a date with Kyle that wouldn’t lead him on in some fashion. Kyle would invariably see a smile as a sign of interest. Shit.
The door swung open. This time, it wasn’t Kyle. It was Jack.
This time, I was going to be the one to look for signs of interest.
“Hey, it’s the author!” Jack said, followed by that boisterous laugh that drew a few more eyeballs now that we were in public. “How are you, Miss Lilly?”
“I’m doing wonderful,” I said, closing my laptop and playing with the strands of my hair. “I am pleasantly surprised to see that you were able to head over here for a little break.”
“Ah, well, you know, have to make time to get away from my world a little bit,” he said. “Besides, how could I pass up the chance to get to know an author more? With your mind, I’d be a fool not to learn more about you!”
“You’re sweet,” I said, almost certainly blushing like an idiot. “But I want to know more about you, actually.”
“Uh-oh! Am I going to appear in one of your fantasy novels?”
Jack seemed far more upbeat than he did last night, though some of that certainly had to do with this not being an introductory meeting. Maybe he was more of a morning person, although the fact that he had come to P.M. Coffee so late in the evening suggested otherwise.
“I mean, I draw inspiration from all over the real world from my fantasy characters, so it’s certainly possible.”
“Oh boy, go ahead and make me an orc or an ogre. It’ll be the closest to real life.”
“Jesus!” I said, laughing. “You’re not one of those things.”
“Um, hello? Do you see me? Bald? Thick? I am not exactly the model of a king.”
No, but that’s precisely why I like you. You’re not skinny and weak; you’re big and strong. You’re not tiny; you’re massive. Physically, that’s very attractive. That tells me that I’ll be safe with you.
“Well, if you’re not a king, then what are you, Jack? Tell me about your life.”
“Of course,” he said. “Come from a close family. Two brothers. Grew up in the area. As I said before, I’m not the one with the brains, let alone the creative juices, so I just went and became a car mechanic. But frankly, it works out perfectly for me. I get to use my hands for work, I get to crack jokes with like-minded people, and I get to work on what I love most—cars and bikes. I know it’s not as fancy or prestigious as some other jobs—”
“No, please,” I said, putting a gentle hand up. “I like you more because of this. I wouldn’t want you to be someone who works a quote-unquote ‘prestigious’ job. Most of the people like that are snooty and rude.”
“Oh, tell me about it!” Jack said, slapping the table. “I know a couple of dudes who work in the banking world out there in Manhattan. One of them is nice, quiet. Actually, funny enough, he quit that world to work in the mechanic shop. The other one is brash, loud, and crass.”
“And let me guess. He hasn’t quit his job?”
“Nope! We call him Uncle because, well, he’s my uncle. And Uncle is that kind of guy who you know means well and has a good heart, but in the process, he just does everything he can to make life hell. He’s loud, he cusses, he hits on women way too much—”
“Wait, there’s a man who can acknowledge that?”
I wanted to reach across the table and squeeze Jack’s cheeks with joy upon hearing him say that. Like, seriously—some men had it in their head that they could do whatever they wanted to me, and if they found out I was a writer, they would just say that they were giving me inspiration for future characters. Jack was getting more and more appealing by the second.
“Hey, why hide from the truth?” Jack said with a casual shrug. “I know Uncle is a good person. But yeah, coming from that world, humility is not exactly a strong suit of his.”
“Not like you,” I said, almost without meaning to.
Jack’s grin seemed to stretch further back than I had seen it go at any point. His white teeth seemed to glisten before me, and his eyes held mine in such a way that I couldn’t—and didn’t want to—escape. I barely knew this guy, but I already was feeling mighty good about him.
Provided, of course, that he would ask me out.
“But anyway, yeah, that’s what I do. I’m just a simple car mechanic.”
“You may say that, but you know it goes much further than that,” I said. “You’re an open-minded mechanic. You’re a curious mechanic. You’re a fun, amiable man.”
“Amiable?”
“Like friendly and easy-going.”
“Ah. You’ll have to forgive me. I have the vocabulary of a sixth grader. I stopped paying attention to classes around that time.”
I laughed. I didn’t think I had ever stopped being the de facto nerd. It’s probably why I stood up for people like Kyle, who were bullied—I wasn’t, but I knew well enough that people could easily get bullied for being too smart or being too different.
“Well, I think you display an education a little bit beyond just a mere sixth grader, just to be clear.”
Jack beamed, shook his head, and placed his palms flat down as if declaring that he was about to make a statement.
“Well, I suppose we’ve said enough that we might as well get to it,” Jack said. “I avoided saying this over email because I didn’t think it would be very gentlemanly to do so, but Lilly, I would love to take you on a date. I suggested Sunday and Monday, and I don’t know if you’re free then, but I would love to if given the opportunity.”
My smile gave me away. But it also gave me a chance to realize just how disparate my feelings were between Jack and Kyle. Kyle made me feel like I’d signed a contract that had a clause I couldn’t get out of, one that I figured I would embrace and just make the most of. Biggie felt like a promise of a happier, better time that not only did I not need a contract for, a contract would have made it feel too formal.
It wasn’t hard to figure out which one I preferred right now. It wasn’t hard to imagine which one I hoped to be with. It wasn’t hard to figur
e out that, while the experience with Kyle would be a little awkward, it would make my time with Jack that much sweeter.
“Why don’t we do Sunday,” I said, seeing no reason to wait any longer than necessary—and it wasn’t like I had anything else on Sunday that would have prevented me from seeing him.
“Then Sunday it is,” he said. “As much as I’d like to say, ‘screw it, let’s just do a date now,’ I do have to go back. The shop is going to open in…huh, three minutes ago. So I might be a little late. But I’d say this was worth it.”
“Before you go, let’s trade numbers.”
We did so quickly. As soon as Jack had my number saved in his phone, he smiled and rose.
“Lilly. I very much look forward to seeing you in two days. I hope that you have a most productive day writing.”
A part of me wondered if he was about to perform some sort of majestic, romantic gesture, like come across the table and kiss my hand. That’s not what happened, naturally—Jack gave a short nod and walked out—but even still, just the thought that it could happen was enough to make me feel a certain way.
That “certain way” was nothing short of riding high on cloud nine. Now, instead of feeling distracted from work because of what happened from last night, I was feeling distracted because of the potential of what could happen with Jack. I’d have to get through Kyle, granted.
And the whole situation itself was kind of weird, honestly. I had never gone out with two guys like this so closely together; I tried to limit myself to one date a week so that I could give my full attention to the guy. I supposed some girls would say I was empowered, but that just felt superficial.
Still, at least I had clarity on how I wanted this to go. I would let Kyle down as easily as possible tomorrow evening, and then I’d see where things would go with Jack on Sunday. It wasn’t the perfect setup, especially since I wasn’t exactly a fan of rejecting people and making them feel bad, but it was the setup that I had to work with.
And who knew? Maybe Jack was right. Maybe I would end up making him a character in one of my novels.
Something told me, though, that this was one of those times when reality was just better than fiction.
Chapter 5: Biggie
I rode the good feelings that came from securing a date with Lilly for as long as I could.
Even when I got back to the shop, even as I saw that removing the graffiti was an on-going process that would likely have to pick back up after closing hours, even as I saw Marcel’s frustrated face, I still felt giddy.
Even as the workday progressed and we dealt with some particularly difficult customers, I still felt giddy.
Even right after, when my brother and the rest of the officers shared a drink, cheerful for me and dulling for them, I still felt giddy.
But when the hour hit that the weekly Savage Saints party would normally begin, I no longer felt giddy.
It was time to open a line of communication with Kyle. And the only way to do it was by making it impossible for him to ignore me.
* * *
Despite the disdain that we had for each other, we both knew where the other lived. Maybe there was some sort of mutually assured destruction deal going on, but I never really worried about getting attacked at my place. There was a decent chance that the only reason for this was because Kyle understood that if I got hurt, he would get killed, but I liked to believe that it was partially because I was the family member he was closest with.
Closest was relative, of course. He still loathed me. He just didn’t outright wish I was dead like he did Marcel and Uncle.
Despite being in politics, he lived in a somewhat run-down part of the town. Trash littered the street just outside his apartment, many a sketchy person looked at me as I walked by, and screams could be heard from some of the different apartments. Kyle would no doubt say that this was just his way of staying in touch with the people, but anyone who knew him well knew there was a strong connection to his low self-esteem.
Fortunately, Kyle’s place did not have a buzzer that would enable him to ignore me. I went to the front door, pulled open the screen door, and knocked. I stood with my hands folded by my side, keeping an eye on the surrounding area.
It didn’t take much to realize that Kyle had probably met members of the Bloodhounds, maybe even Damon, here. This was a neighborhood for gangsters and druggies alike; I just had to hope that as long as I stayed to myself, so would everyone else.
The door opened ajar just slightly before I saw Kyle’s scowling face.
“You have got a lot of nerve coming here,” he sneered. “Have you come to get a hit on me? Because I can assure—”
“Kyle, you know that’s not why I’m here,” I said.
Kyle maintained the aggressive face, but he stayed silent.
“I saw the graffiti on our repair shop this morning,” I said. “I know that you had something to do with it. And no, I’m not here to hold court. Let’s not bullshit each other, alright? I know that you did it, just as you know that Uncle pulled some strings to prevent your eminent domain deal from working.”
Kyle visibly softened at that, though not in a way that suggested I had revealed a dark secret. In fact, it was pretty obvious to everyone that Uncle had done that; no one may have had hard evidence on either side, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t obvious he had done it.
“Kyle, I’ve come to make peace with you,” I said. “I’m sorry for everything me, my brother, and Uncle ever did to you. I know we were hard on you as kids. I just want this to stop.”
“So, what?” Kyle said. “So you two can continue to get girls and have fun while I have to stew, the black sheep of the family?”
“It doesn’t have to be that way. You can get a girl. You can be…look, I’m not going to force you to be a part of this family. I know that it’ll take a long, long time for the Stones to unite in any way. I’m just saying that I want this to stop.”
Kyle peered out around the corners of the apartment. A couple of people were watching us, but they looked drugged out and in no state to help. That didn’t mean Kyle didn’t have protection in the area, but it didn’t worry me as much as, say, walking into a Bloodhounds meeting would have.
“Come in,” he said. “But don’t try anything funny.”
“You know I won’t.”
Kyle refused to acknowledge that statement, but he knew it was absolutely true. There was no way I was going to pull any bullshit, most especially in the home of the man who was the club’s greatest enemy. I had little doubt that Kyle had rigged the place in some fashion to protect himself, or at least had multiple weapons at the ready in case something went down.
As soon as I stepped inside, he shut the door, checked something on his phone, and then led me to the kitchen table. He offered me a glass of whiskey, but I declined, fearing that he would try to get me drunk to get me to admit to something or to give up something.
“Suit yourself then, straightlace,” he said as he sat down with his glass. “Jack. Do you realize how much you all fucked me over as kids?”
I bit my lip. This felt like one of those spots where no answer would possibly suffice; no matter what I said, Kyle would find some way to twist it around on me.
“Pretty badly, I would guess,” I said, deciding honesty was the best option.
“That’s a fucking understatement,” he said. “I go to bed every night thinking about why life couldn’t have dealt me cards like you two have. I don’t understand why Uncle hates my fucking guts so much. Yes, I know, I became a bad child as a teenager and beyond. But you guys…”
He stopped himself from talking. It almost sounded like he was becoming emotional but didn’t want to look that way in front of me. I just kept myself silent, hoping that he would feel more at ease with opening up if I didn’t say anything.
“You want to know why all of this has gone down?” he said. “Because when I see Marcel get out of jail and seemingly magically land on his feet, it feels like a fucking
slap in the face to me. I suffered through hell as a kid, Jack. If not for the kindness of a few people at school who stood up for me, I’d be even worse off.”
“I know.”
“No, you fucking don’t.”
OK, back to not saying a word at all.
“You, especially, don’t understand. At least Marcel has had a taste of hell, having gone to jail and missed his daughter growing up. You? You’ve always had things fall your way, Jack. Christ, your fucking smile and laughter are the most annoying things in the world to me. It’s like you’re mocking me by thinking ‘well, at least I’m not Kyle Stone!’ Fuck, man…and you know the worst part of it? You’re the one I trust the most.”
I had so many things to say, and yet I felt too self-conscious to say any of them.
“You’re the only one in our family who would stop Marcel or stand up to Uncle when things got bad. I’m not going to pretend you were a savior. You would laugh at Marcel’s jokes way too much. But damnit, Jack. I guess there’s a fucking reason you’re here and not dead.”
I pursed my lips before I could ask what he meant by that.
“I take it you’re here because you want me to back off. You want me to pull back the Bloodhounds.”
“Yes,” I said, taking a pause before I added more. “And the Degenerate Sinners. And the Devil’s Mercs.”
“Oh, that,” Kyle said with a bemused smirk. “That was just a little mind game. Those two clubs are dead and buried. And even if their members are alive, they’re not going to fly to Brooklyn to fight people they’ve never competed with.”
I almost added that the Savage Saints clubs in Las Vegas and Green Hills knew about those signs, but until it became a necessary reveal, I decided to play that card close to the vest.
“No, the Bloodhounds are still around. You may have killed Damon, but I was smart enough to make sure that a club like that wouldn’t fall apart just because its leader died. Damon was useful, but he was, in some ways, a figurehead.”
