by Hazel Parker
I didn’t mean to be so snarky, but I wasn’t wrong. Lilly, at least, seemed to recognize that I was right as well.
“I just can’t stay cooped up; I’m going to lose my damn mind.”
“You know this will all be taken care of over the weekend, right? Can you just stay—”
“What does that mean, Jack? What does it mean that everything will be taken care of this weekend? Are you going to tell me?”
I wasn’t. That was club business. It’s not like reading between the lines here was hard, but I wasn’t about to hand her the answer sheet to the question.
“I can’t stop you,” I said, mostly ignoring her. “I can only tell you that the streets are dangerous as long as he’s out there and you’re here. The problem will be taken care of over the weekend. If you can’t wait that long, well, like you said, you’re not fifteen years old anymore.”
We weren’t really fighting, but the words sounded so combative that I couldn’t help but wonder how Lilly would feel about them later when she reflected upon it. We were already in such a stressful and emotional situation that we weren’t going to grow our bond any further, but if we lost it…
“OK,” she said.
“OK,” I replied.
Both of us obviously had much more to say. Both of us, though, obviously felt it better to be kept inside.
* * *
I was the first one at the funeral, which took place under a sunny sky. In the far, far distance, a storm was approaching, but according to the weather report, it wouldn’t come for another few hours, maybe even longer. It was unlikely to strike while we were at the funeral.
I sat in the front next to an empty seat, which Marcel would take after sharing a few words. Ours was the only row that had two seats; the rest of the rows had five, designating us as the only family members there.
It was a stunning realization that hadn’t hit me until we arrived, but it was undeniably true; the two of us were the only Stones, aside from Kyle, left in the world. For as much as we talked about the Savage Saints being like family—and for as much as we held onto that belief with absolute sincerity—there was something undeniably unsettling in realizing that the only family I had left that I genuinely cared about was standing before me.
No cousins. No parents. No aunts or uncles. No kids. Marcel had his ex-girlfriend and his daughter, but his ex was merely cordial, and while his daughter was adorable and sweet, she was still very young and still very far removed from the rest of the family. Or just me, really.
I couldn’t say that it made me suddenly want to be close to Lilly, but I could say that it made me realize I couldn’t waste an opportunity with her. When things settled down, when Kyle was out of the picture, I wasn’t going to let a moment go by without her.
But first, we had this funeral to attend and then another one to create.
“Good afternoon,” Marcel said, clearing his throat.
I watched Marcel with great interest as he began his speech. It was very similar to the one he had given the club, but this time, with the Savage Saints of Las Vegas and Green Hills present, his words seemed to carry far more fire to them than before. He was much more deliberate with his words, almost as if giving a theatrical performance.
In some respects, it was something of a show. It was a chance for him to showcase his leadership and his skills to those whom he’d need help from in the days ahead. We only had those Savage Saints for a few days, and we couldn’t waste any of them.
“Let it be known,” Marcel said when he finished giving his praises to Uncle, “that we will not stand idly by and let Uncle’s death be wasted. We will use it to bring justice and peace to our city. We will find those responsible. And we will make sure they face the consequences of their actions. For that, there will be no question.”
Obviously, it being a funeral, there was no applause, no whistling, no cheers. But when I looked back at the crowd to gauge their reactions, I saw the funeral equivalent of emphasis—a simple head nod. It came from Richard, it came from Trace, and it came from all of the officers across all regions of Savage Saints.
“Well done,” I said, patting his shoulder.
“Yeah,” Marcel said.
I’d never heard him sound so exhausted in my life. I hoped that wherever Kyle was, he was feeling just as exhausted; surely, even someone who hated Uncle and us as he did had to get worn down at some point by all of the fighting and nonsense that was going on.
Was it enough to make him surrender and beg for forgiveness?
No.
And even if he did, it probably wouldn’t be enough to save him. Kyle had made his bed—now it was time for us to put him in it.
The funeral proceeded, the only moment of true emotion coming when Uncle was lowered into the earth. Although I heard a few sniffles, no one was going to burst out crying. And as it was, for both Marcel and I, the moment of greatest emotion had come the night he had died. This was just a formality.
As we headed into the reception, Marcel pulled me back. I stood waiting with him as the crowd dissolved ahead of us. Only two figures remained—Richard and Trace, the presidents of the respective clubs.
“We wanted to have a word with you,” Richard began. “I think that you two should understand why we’re here.”
He took out a cigar and lit it as Trace stood in silence, allowing Richard to have the floor.
“Does the name Paul Peters mean anything to either of you?”
It didn’t. At least Richard and Trace didn’t seem offended by it and didn’t say anything negative.
“Paul was my older brother, and if he were alive today, he’d be Trace’s father-in-law,” Richard began. “That man is the sole reason any of us can call ourselves Savage Saints. But the funny thing was, when I was alive, I was so jealous of his guts. I hated him. I spun off from the family, but it seems that the de facto apple never falls far from the tree.”
“I knew Paul when I was an adult,” Trace said as Richard took a puff of his cigar. “Whatever good you see from the two of us, it comes from him. Aside from his daughter, my wife, he was one of the greatest men that I have ever known. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about him.”
Richard finished his puff, coughed, and cleared his throat.
“The reason we’re telling you this, gents, is because of how he died.”
A lump formed in Trace’s throat.
“A rival gang murdered him at an ice cream shop while he was celebrating the return of his daughter from her college days,” Trace said. “If not for the actions of BK, our sergeant-at-arms, there’s a disturbing chance that they would have succeeded in killing her as well. They very much went into it intending to end the Peters line as much as they could. They succeeded in killing the patriarch, but not in the spirit.”
“There’s nothing worse than being witness to a violent death of a loved one,” Richard said. “We both know it. We both know how much it galvanized the club. And we both know that if your own brother murdered your uncle, then he’s going to pay the same price that all the other assholes who crossed us did.”
“We understand that for some of the guys here, the club is family. We also understand from seeing you two interact that you two are brothers in every sense of the word. We know you won’t stop until Kyle is dead. And for that, we’re here to help. The aftermath is up to you, but for now?”
I nodded. Marcel did the same.
“We appreciate the help,” Marcel said.
“Of course,” Trace said.
“We also wanted to pull you aside to say that we follow your lead, Marcel,” Richard said. “And Biggie, if something happens to your brother, we will follow you too. We’ll follow you to hell and back until Kyle is killed.”
“I appreciate it.”
Richard and Trace gave a curt nod before heading toward the reception. Marcel looked at me, a firm look of determination all on his face.
“There is no mercy now,” he said. “I know you have tried in the past to
reach out to Kyle, and I appreciate that. I know that you will agree with me now that we must kill him. But Jack. I’m telling you this not as a Savage Saint, but as a man. You must not show mercy. This is not playing around. This is not something where we have a parent or Uncle to break it up. We are all that’s left. And we have to do whatever it takes to kill Kyle. No matter what. No matter what he says. Understood?”
“Yes,” I said immediately.
“That’s good,” Marcel said. “Remember that when the moment of truth comes. Because I’m going to need you to help me finish him, Jack. If I don’t have your support when the barrel of the gun is pointed to his head…”
He didn’t finish. I nodded. He walked to the reception, and I took a few seconds to truly embrace what he had said.
He didn’t mean now. He didn’t mean before we drove off on our bikes. He meant the actual, literal moment.
Yeah, I was going to show no mercy.
And if I did, it wasn’t going to be in the presence of anyone else.
I felt my phone buzz as I headed to the reception area. I’d felt it buzz a couple of times, but for obvious reasons, I had not checked. Now, with all the official ceremonies out of the way and nothing but some toasts left to share, I pulled out my phone and read the message.
“Jack, I’ve thought a lot about this morning and the past few days. I think I’m safest if we aren’t together. I’m sorry.”
Chapter 16: Lilly
I closed out of the Messenger app as soon as I sent the text to Jack. I locked my phone, muted the sounds, and stuffed it as far down into my purse as I could go.
I was pushing him away as much as I was trying to hide from the decision that I had just made. And I didn’t mean the decision to put the kibosh on what Jack and I had.
I meant the decision to ever get involved with the Stones in the first place. While it was true to some extent that I couldn’t have connected the dots on Kyle and Jack without knowing Jack’s last name, it was true that I had a gut feeling that I knew Jack from somewhere. It was so obvious now what that somewhere was—he shared the same eyes as Kyle, and had both been in the same mood, they would have shared the same smile.
Immediately, before my phone had even hit the bottom of my purse, I could hear the ringtone going off. I let it go as I opened Fires of the City on my laptop and tried to take myself to the most recent chapter needing editing. I waited for the whole half-minute before the phone stopped ringing—always interesting how such a ring seemed to last far longer than anyone ever wanted when they weren’t going to send it straight to voicemail—and then took a deep breath.
And the damn phone rang again.
This time, I pulled it out of my purse. Yes, it was Jack. No, I wasn’t going to answer. I hit the mute button to silence it, put it back in my purse, and then went back to the book. Let’s see…“The skies had turned a burnt orange. Chaos reigned over the city.” Is reigned the right word? Might create imagery of rain. Like how Kyle rained on my parade—
My phone rang again!
I nearly slammed the table in frustration, only pulling back at the very last second. I pulled out my phone, silenced it again, and, after staring at it for a long time, finally put it back in my purse. If he called a fourth time, then fine, I would answer. But if he didn’t, well, I guess I’d get to edit, wouldn’t I?
I went back to my page. “The skies had turned a burnt orange.” Does that evoke the right imagery? Is that too cliché? Is ignoring Jack three times in a row before answering on the fourth too cliché?
Oh, heavens, Lilly. Stay focused.
Stay focused on making a story better than the one you’re living out.
I’m really not going to get any work done here, am I?
I took another deep breath—whichever meditation guru had said it could work wonders was either full of it or just was one in a million—and closed my laptop. I went to the bathroom, hoping that just the act of getting up and moving around would do something for my sanity.
I came back, opened my laptop, and retained a degree of focus.
OK, burnt orange works. No, seared orange. More specific. Nice, that’s a win. OK. “Chaos reigned over the city.” Chaos is good enough by itself, right? Yeah, chaos shouldn’t need an adjective. OK, reigned? I can’t think of anything better. Hung is too simple. Let’s go with reign.
Alright! Two sentences down…only probably another couple thousand or so to go.
And then I can call Jack and we can figure this out, huh?
Well, at least I’d had the focus to get a smidge of work done, even if it wasn’t everything that I’d hoped to do.
I knew then that the only way I was going to get a modicum of peace was if I just addressed the elephant on my phone and called Jack. I refused to be that bitch who just ghosted someone after ending it, and aside from that, maybe if I just did it, I could focus on my work.
I pulled out my phone. Jack hadn’t called back after his third attempt. But unless Kyle had suddenly shown up to stir up some shit, he wasn’t going to ignore my call. Begrudgingly and with some serious nerves, I dialed him back.
“Lilly, hey,” he said after the first ring, clearly having already had the phone in his hand.
“Hey, Jack,” I said. “You called?”
What a stupid question. You know why he called.
“Yeah, what’s going on? You feel safest without me? I just want to understand, Lilly.”
“I know, I know,” I said.
I hated taking this call in a coffee shop. I hated even more acknowledging that if I went outside to take it, there was a greater than fifty percent chance that Kyle would be stalking me and come over to me.
“Forgive me for speaking quietly. I’m in a coffee shop.”
“Lilly…”
It was some small credit to him that he stopped himself from saying I needed to be home. Unfortunately for him, it wasn’t going to be enough to get me to change my mind about him.
“Your brother is absolutely insane, Jack, you know that,” I said. “And you’re not. I can acknowledge that. But you two have some sort of feud that’s going to affect everyone around you. You say you’re going to keep me safe, but all that you’re going to do is drag me into the violence. I’m sorry, Jack. I know it seems unfair, and I think it is. I think life and circumstances are being unfair to us right now. But…I think it’s best for me.”
Jack said “OK” a couple of times as he tried to process what I’d said. Hell, I needed a chance to process what I had said; even though I believed it, it was still the first time hearing it said out loud.
“You know, Lilly, that he’s going to take the violence to you,” he said. “It doesn’t matter if you are far removed from me. It doesn’t matter if you had never been with me. You rejected him and hurt him, and that means that he’s going to come for you. Kyle is a vengeful, deranged person, Lilly. The law can’t protect you. He hasn’t done anything illegal yet. And if you tried to get a restraining order, I promise you he will find a way around it.”
“Right, I understand that, but me being with you is only going to exacerbate that problem. If he sees me with you, it’s not going to increase my safety; it’s going to increase the likelihood of an imminent attack.”
Jack caught himself as he tried to find the right words.
“I’m just going to have to fundamentally disagree with you here, Lilly,” he said. “Yes, the women who get involved with the club sometimes face risks. That’s just part of what we do. But those women? They are also the ones who get rescued the fastest and who feel the safest. If Kyle comes to you, you know we’ll be coming for you. The police may come, but they won’t come as fast, and they won’t take justice into their hands as well.”
I understood everything Jack was saying. At least, I thought I did. But he wasn’t going to change my mind. The more I spoke, in fact, the more settled in I felt about the decision.
“Sorry, Jack,” I said.
Jack caught his breath.
&nbs
p; “Tell me honestly, Lilly,” he said, words that made my heart skip a few beats. “Does this have anything to do with us? Pretend Kyle doesn’t exist. Does this have anything to do with us?”
What would have felt better? The truth? Or something that would keep him further away?
“No, it doesn’t,” I said. “But I’ve made my decision, Jack. You’re sweet, but I have to put my safety first.”
I spoke those last few words so fast, it felt like I vomited them out. I didn’t want Jack to use the opening I had given him to help himself. He needed to know the door was shut.
“OK,” he finally said. “I’m still going to keep an eye out for you, Lilly. Kyle is going to do something to you.”
“And when he does, I’ll be ready, OK?” I said. “Look, I appreciate everything, Jack. You’re going to find a great girl. Just make sure she hasn’t also dated your brother.”
I immediately regretted the attempt at humor. Jack sure wasn’t laughing.
“Understood,” he said, sounding as defeated as I had ever heard him. “Take care, Lilly.”
“Take care—”
But he had already hung up. It was abrupt and far too quick of a disconnect. But then again, what right did I have to ask or fight for the way a phone call would end when I had just ended a relationship like so?
I turned my eyes back to my book. I couldn’t even remember where I’d started.
“The skies had turned a seared orange.” That’s stupid. Why the hell did I change that?
Wait. I’m just going in circles right now. And I’m distracted. And I can’t think straight.
What. The. Fuck.
I just slammed my laptop closed in frustration. Some days, the words just weren’t going to come. That was doubly true on a day when I had had to cut off my best chance at love in years because of extenuating circumstances. Life sure could be awfully shitty sometimes. Life sure could throw a lot of fires of the skies your way.
I gave myself a few moments as I gazed a thousand miles away, trying to see if I could re-center myself. It was no surprise that I could not, and when it was decided that I could not bring myself to that spot, I put my laptop in my bag, stood up, and headed outside.
