by Wyatt, Dani
Both men shook hands, Cameron’s ice blue eyes barely acknowledged his aloof stare.
“Simon has a proposition. I’m not on board, but I’m going to let him tell you, then, we gotta talk.”
“Okay. What? Hurry the fuck up, because I got places I need to be.”
Cameron could see Reggie roll his eyes. Sure, Simon was somebody — somebody that could help him advance his career, but the niceties of networking had long escaped Cameron’s arsenal of useful tools.
“Dude, come on —” Reggie said apologetically toward Simon.
“No, it’s alright.” Simon turned, meeting Cameron’s challenging glare with his own. “I heard they call you Force.”
“I don’t know shit about that. People call me what they call me. I’ve heard a lot worse.” Cameron’s eyes stuck on the back door.
“Well, that was more than a good fight. You were outmatched, but, as your reputation precedes you, that is something you obviously don’t understand. I’m in the market for some fresh blood to sponsor. I’ve been out looking at wild cards and up and coming. Someone said you were back in town, so, here I am. I didn’t expect to be so impressed.”
“Yeah, well —” Cameron was bored already.
He was a stone wall in the way of his own success, and luckily, Reggie took over.
“He’s in the best shape of his life.” Reggie drew Simon’s eyes back to him.
“I can see. He lacks discipline, though. I’m not convinced he could do something like that over and over. He’s always been a one-hit wonder, then no follow up. I need a proven commodity, someone that can win over and over. Not shoot it all in one fight then disappear for months.”
“He’s got it. Like I said, he took time to go out to Colorado, to Ahmad’s place.”
“That’s what I heard. He takes animals and turns them into fighters. Real fighters.”
“So, what the fuck? Are we just going to stand here all night with our dicks out? You got something to say, get to it.” Cameron sniffed hard, throwing his head to the side and cracking the bones in his neck with a loud ‘snap, crackle, pop’.
“Okay. Here’s the deal. I gotta see one more fight. Let me see what you can do against Jake Rashney. I can’t set it up, you guys have to go to him. There’s a row fight, it’s on the radar, big money going down, day before Thanksgiving, so I can’t be associated, but I’ll be there watching.”
“Shit, that’s Topher’s deal down there at Industry. Jake Rashney’s a beast, fights dirty man. I don’t know.” Reggie was as clean as they come, and something like this had his gleaming white shorts in a bunch.
Cameron’s chest felt like someone just administered the Heimlich maneuver on him.
“I’ll do it. Set it up,” Cameron didn’t hesitate.
Something inside of him knew he had to take it. Not just for this Simon fool, but because it was Topher’s fight. He didn’t know how, but there had to be some way to turn this fight into a win for Southside.
All this talking shit had Cameron busting down the gym doors and thundering down the street, he needed to get to her.
He could hear Reggie yelling after him, but he was done with the circle jerk, there were more important matters to attend to.
Whatever he just did with Simon would have to wait, because his girl was alone with his brother and some wanking crush, and his father who never knew when to shut his drunken mouth.
The words of his mother ran over his buzzing brain as he floored the gas on the Camaro’s small block away from the gym. He couldn’t remember how old he was when she first started telling him, but it was almost as far back as he could remember.
She would say he was born to be in charge. Somehow, he thought it was the same thing that drew her, and then Emily, to Larry.
His dad used to command people with his presence, drew women like moths to a flame. That kind of energy, that pull — it’s something you are born with, it can’t be taught or bought.
The years and too many drinks with Jack and Jim drained him of whoever he used to be.
His mother’s words echoed as he felt the mantle of responsibility weigh on his shoulders. No doubt Victoria belonged to him since the day they were both born, but now, it was his job to bring her to him in a way she could never have understood before.
As he drove the black streets, dappled with a street light every block or two, he thought of his hand on her ass. How many times had he fucked into other nameless, faceless bodies while smacking their ivory cheeks to a crimson red?
It was an empty gesture, only a half-hearted practice for what he truly wanted, which was to take care of her, guide her, and correct her like she needed.
To bring her the freedom she deserved meant guiding her with more than just words, she needed to feel it, to have that sting, that burn, the tears that would turn into the realization of her inherent value and the freedom his dominance would bring her.
He drove faster, his cock already giving him grief, but knowing he still needed to make good on his promise of 24 respite before he let himself peel apart the sweet, cherry folds and fuck into her like a starving man denied his just sustenance for too long.
“I’m fucked.” Cameron muttered, knowing he would have a harder fight ahead of him tonight than the one he just left.
27
Victoria stared at the blinking screen of her laptop. The two men sitting behind her spewed inane platitudes that only the other could tolerate in their current state of inebriation.
How did I get here? God, what did mom see in them? Both of them? Gakkkkk. I about at the end of my rope here. Cameron, come on.
Between the slurred pontificating of drunken fools, they paused to re-fill themselves with that stinking amber liquid.
“Hey —” Roger yelled.
Victoria kept her ear buds in, not necessary to listen to anything but to try to keep them from including her in their drunken nursery school discussion.
“HEY!! —”
A half-crushed can tumbled and rolled until it stopped against her canvas shoe.
“What?!!” Victoria shot them a glare.
How could they sit here, night after night and do this to themselves? The small, round kitchen table held at least a dozen dead soldiers. A little over an hour ago she’d cleared away just as many.
They knew Asher needed someone to be responsible, to be available if he needed anything. But, history is a fairly good predictor of future events, and both of them obviously felt that responsibility fell anywhere but in their wheel house.
“Can ya go to the bazemen’ fridge and get that cas’ a Bud? Those stairs are hell ‘n my knees.” Larry could barely focus as Roger tipped his head back and slurped the last of the beer from another can.
Victoria’s stomach felt like it was full of rocks. She looked at the bottom corner of her screen. 12:15 A.M.
Where are you?
She’d counted on him before, but now, she couldn’t seem to take three breaths without holding the fourth and counting the seconds until he was close.
“HEY!!” Roger banged his fist on the table, shaking and sending half a dozen dead empty cans onto their sides. They rolled off the table, falling softly onto the matted, rust-colored carpet Emily had picked out only a month before she died.
“What?! God, get your own stupid beer.”
Both men’s blinked; they were not used to anything but quiet obedience from Victoria.
“Get your fat ass up and get the beer like Larry tol’ you to. Right now! What you doin’ over there anyway? It’s not like you got anything better to do.” Roger leaned forward in his chair, tossing another can at her feet.
She felt like the mouse in the snake pit, both of them eying her, daring her to step outside her usual quiet, seething obedience. The weight in her belly made it harder than usual to push the chair back from the desk.
“Yeah — that’s better. Everything I do for you girl, you better get your ass moving. Give you a job — “
“Shut up. If i
t weren't for me, none of us would have a job.” As soon as the words spilled out, Victoria felt like the hammer was going to come down. She had never talked back like that to either of them before.
“Oh, yeah? That’s what you think?”
Drunk Roger had a chip on his shoulder larger than a city block, and for reasons she didn’t understand, she was his personal verbal punching bag.
It was impossible to reason with the unreasonable, so Victoria moved around the small table, through the kitchen door and down the stairs as Roger’s epithets and threats echoed in the small living room.
God, Cam, where are you? Asher’s been asleep for hours; please hurry.
“There, now leave me alone.” She slammed the 24 pack in the center of the veneered 1970’s early-American-horrible dining table.
“What makes you so high and mighty all the sudden? Huh?” Roger’s voice followed as she marched back to her laptop hoping fresh cold cans would distract them from sharing any more of their stupidity.
“Maybe she thinks she’s something special now that Topher put a price on her ass,” Larry laughed.
“Yeah — “ Roger slurred.
Victoria felt the sick turn her stomach; her fingers shook over the keyboard, and the fist prickle of tears felt like heated needles on her lower lids.
“What the fuck does that mean?” Cameron’s voice filled the room and Victoria spun around in her chair.
Both men turned to see Cameron filling the entire door frame to the kitchen, his eyes already on fire.
Both Roger and Larry suddenly found the top of the table very interesting, shuffling around the empties and keeping their red-rimmed, unfocused eyes as low as possible.
“I fucking said — What. The. Fuck. Does. That. Mean. Are you deaf ? I fucking heard you, and you better start fucking talking before I completely lose my shit on both of you right now.”
“Cam — wait —” Victoria felt the darkness begin to shroud Cameron’s eyes and she was only too familiar with the outcome.
“Sssshhhh!” He pointed a finger toward her; his eyes locked onto her face. “You and I, we’re going to have a separate discussion. Right now, your job is to sit there and be quiet.”
“Nothing! What the fuck, it’s nothing.” Larry threw back half beer in one swig.
“One of you motherfuckers is going to talk. I know you’re into Topher, and he’s coming calling, that fucking cat is out of the bag. What I need to know, right fucking now, is what did you mean about a price on her ass. I’M NOT FUCKING PLAYING!”
Victoria’s hands shot to her ears as Cameron’s fingers hitched under the edge of the small table, flipping it and sending fireworks of beer cans spinning and flying and ‘tinging’ against the wall.
“Jesus! Get out!” Roger made a feeble, failed attempt to stand, but without the table for balance, he plopped back onto the chair in a puddle of pathetic.
“I’m not fucking leaving until you tell me what the fuck is going on.”
Victoria could see the tips of Cameron’s fingers shaking, the air in the room felt like molasses, she felt like she was going to throw up.
“What? You gonna hit me? You solve everything with your fists don’ you? That’s worked real well so far.” Larry slurped another slug, then moved to put his can back down on the table that was no longer there.
“Cam — it’s not worth it. Let’s go.” Victoria flipped the top of her laptop closed, shoving it into her bag.
“So, you think you know? You know so much, done’ you? You know you could’a been somebody? You could’a been a real fighter, but you got no control. No BRAINS. Never could. You’re a fucking loser. You got nothing, nobody, no career. Oh, wait, you got something — two felonies. Big shot, you listened to me, you’d be somewhere. None of us would be here right now.”
Victoria watched as Cameron’s face relaxed. She expected his fist to break open Larry’s lip, but instead, he leaned back on his heels, his neck loosened and fell to the side as Larry spoke.
“You done? You finished, you pathetic piece of shit? If either of you use her name in the same fucking sentence as Topher MacGuire again, the coroner is going to be sucking up what is left of your brain matter off the floor.”
Cameron’s shoulders lurched back, the hood of his sweatshirt hanging low between his shoulder blades. Victoria felt the heat from her face drain down over her chest until her entire body chilled like it was immersed in bathtub full of polar ice.
“Get your shit. We’re leaving.” Cameron moved to help her pick up her bag, his hand on her arm without another look at the two disheveled men that continued to mumble and moan in their righteous indignation.
The weight of Cameron’s arm closed around her shoulders, pulling her into him as he guided her passed the cans and stink of beer and cigarettes that radiated from the two men.
“You’re too dumb to figure out how to pay the fucking bills.” Roger didn’t seem to understand the concept of shut the fuck up. “Where’s all the money? Huh?” He spat toward Victoria. “That’s what we should be asking you! You run the place in the ground, should’a never trusted you with the bank accounts. I shouldn’t known better, stupid, fat — “
Cameron’s leg shot out like a viper, hooking his foot in the leg of Roger’s chair. He hit the carpet on his back with a ‘thud’, feet kicking in the air as the chair rocked and settled under him.
Cameron’s arm fell from Victoria’s shoulder as he hunkered over the shocked face of her father, beer spilling from the can still clutched in his hand, making a growing dark circle on the front of his dirty t-shirt.
“You ever fucking talk to her like that again, I will end you. I will fucking end you.” Cameron’s voice fell to a growling whisper, every fiber in his body shaking as he held his fingers around Roger’s windpipe.
“GET OUT, GET OUT” Larry was spitting and his arm flailed over his head, motioning toward the door.
Victoria’s cheeks were stinging, and she felt the sick coming up. Cameron grabbed her arm and quickly ushered her out the swinging kitchen door and outside. Her heart skipped and pounded until she felt a fissure form in her skull from the pressure.
She didn’t fear Cameron, but it was scary when he lost himself like that. You didn’t know when he would stop, sometimes, not until it was too late.
She pressed her hands into her belly, trying to settle the acid that burned and threatened to come up her throat.
Victoria felt his body shaking, the heat radiating off of him as he ushered her silently to the car.
“Cameron — stop. They’re just drunk.” She spoke the words into his chest, the solid wrap of his body around hers like a safety cage.
“Why the fuck would you defend them right now? That’s fucked up, Victoria. Get the fuck in the car.”
“I know, it’s just — you know, they’re our Dad’s. They’re just — “
She knew she was wrong. Years of pleasing and dancing around to try to gain some love from the one man in her life from whom she craved some kind of acceptance had set deep scars.
“Get in. I’m not asking”
He held the car door open, and she slipped down into the seat. Everything around her felt unreal, the sky was black, the air cooled, and she wrapped her arms around her body, trying to hold onto something that felt as though it was fighting to tear her open.
Victoria kept her eyes on the front door of the house, sure any second one of them would come barging out, beer bravado egging on the frothing dog.
Lucky for them, everything fell silent, except for the sound of her breathing until Cameron turned the key, roared the engine and squealed the tires out of the drive.
“Where are we going?” It was the only thing Victoria could think of at that moment.
“We’re going to your place. You’re going to pack a big fucking suitcase, and then, you’re coming to my place. Don’t even fucking give me that look, this is no time for negotiation.”
Victoria felt each word like a poke in her chest
; she felt she should protest, but the sense of relief overruled her halted need to push him away.
“Did you talk to Asher?” Cameron asked.
“Yes, the doctor’s said he was fine. They —”
“You know damn well that is not what I’m talking about.” Cameron shot her a look, and she felt like a little kid sitting in the principle's office.
“No. I mean, yes —” Victoria took a deep breath, there was no part of her that wanted to add fuel to the fire, but she promised to be honest. “He said he was glad I was there. He hinted that he — well, sort of that maybe we could —” Victoria blew out the breath she was holding and spit it out finally. “He asked if I ever felt like he was more than a brother, step-brother sort of, I told him no. He was tired, I tried to change the subject.”
“Yeah? Jesus, I’ve fucking waited for you almost my whole fucking life. Now, it’s like we’re in the middle of some boiling pot of shit stew. Well, whatever, this shit with Asher will get straightened out, I promise you that. We’ve got bigger fish to fry, little girl when we get back to my place. You’re gonna spill about anything and everything you know about this money they owe, whatever they were talking about when I walked in. That shit has me about to choke them both out. So, I’m going to try to calm down. It’s going to take the night, so change of plans, you’re going to get your bags packed, then we are going to have a conversation tomorrow morning when I’ve got my fucking head on straight. It’s like those fucks would sell their own soul and yours to the highest bidder if it served them. What the fuck — “
His fingers turned white as he clamped down on the steering wheel. Victoria could smell his scent, spicy, powerful, intoxicating. It swirled around in the small space between them as Cameron dropped one hand from the wheel and slipped it over her leg and wrapped his fingers around until his grip sent a pulsing shiver straight between her legs.
“How did everything get so messed up?” Victoria felt like she was falling, spinning, and she lay her forehead on the cool glass of the window.
“It’s always been fucked up.” Cameron gave her leg a gentle squeeze. “Now, it’s just time we all stop ignoring it. You can only get so far by going around shit like this, Vic. It’s time to go right through the fucking middle of this mess and come out on the other side once and for all.”
