by S. Ferguson
We walked for a few more blocks, and came to an abrupt stop in front of a bar. I looked up and saw a dilapidated sign hanging above the door. It was faded and rusted out, but I think it said “Keegan’s”.
Before I could comment on the name of the place, or anything really, I see the symbol spray painted to the right of the door: a wolf. Everyone on the streets knows what that means: Ron.
No one knew his last name, or if he even had one. We all damn sure knew who he was.
We lived in his territory, but we didn’t deal drugs. I wasn’t a prostitute, and we didn’t cause problems, generally keeping to ourselves, so we hadn’t interacted with him at all.
Alex was walking us straight into his headquarters from what I understood.
“Wait, Alex. This place is Ron’s. This isn’t a good idea,” I protested, grabbing his hand and trying to pull him back from the bar. I may as well have been tugging on the building itself for all the effect I have.
“Look, I don’t have time for this shit, Bree. They’re expecting yo—I mean us, and I’m starving and tired of sleeping in that box. I’m tired of being hungry all the damn time. This is a way for us to get what we need. It doesn’t have to be forever, but if they’re gonna help us, they expect something in return.” His eyes look sad for a moment, but then the anger returns so quickly, I’m not even sure I saw it at all.
“Come on, we don’t want to be late and risk them getting mad or changing their minds.” He opens the door wide and walks in, dragging me behind him.
For once, I’m grateful for his size. I hide behind him and try to peek around his arm. I see a random collection of guys sitting around tables in chairs that have clearly been broken and glued back together a few times. I think I even see one with duct tape all over it.
Some of the guys are clearly thugs in street clothes, others are in suits. A few look like any normal guy you would pass by on the street, but I know if they’re in here, there is nothing normal about them.
There is a young guy wearing a suit behind the bar, and an older man, wearing an obviously expensive suit, standing talking to him with his back to us. Even just seeing the back of his body, this man screams power, and I immediately know this is Ron. This man is going to make or break our fate tonight.
“Hey man, I brought her like I said I would,” Alex says, loudly, striding toward the older man who doesn’t even react to Alex talking. Alex clears his throat, and opens his mouth to speak again, but a hand wrapping around his throat cuts him off.
A guy not much older than us, with a blonde faux hawk, has his hand around Alex’s neck, and he’s sending him a look that I would have sworn could kill someone.
He’s wearing a suit as well, but he’s taken off his jacket and tie, and the first few buttons of his shirt are undone, showing off forearms covered in tattoos.
“You don’t speak to Boss without permission. You stand there and wait until he’s good and damn ready to talk to you. Got me?” He shoots a look at me.
“What the fuck man? She’s too damn young. She’s skinny as fuck, too. You been feeding her?” he asks Alex, who is starting to turn a little blue from the lack of oxygen.
Despite the other guy being smaller than Alex, he is clearly just as strong. Of course, we’re in a bar full of his friends, so I know if Alex tries to fight back, he’ll be dead before he gets one swing in.
“I’m 16,” I say, hoping to be helpful.
I hear a frustrated groan, and realize it’s from Alex, who is now looking at me like I’ve lost my damn mind.
“Jesus fucking Christ. Are you shitting me?” the guy asks, dropping his hand from Alex’s neck.
He flexes the fingers in his hand, and shoots me a wink when he catches me looking.
Alex immediately bends over, gasping and struggling to catch his breath.
“You said you were 16?” a new voice asks, and I turn to find him, Ron, looking at me.
“Yes, sir,” I nod and shuffle a little closer to Alex, who is still coughing but at least standing upright again.
“That changes things,” he says, giving Alex a meaningful look.
“Wait,” Alex starts to protest, but is cut off when Ron starts speaking again.
“The job…” He shoots Alex another meaningful look. “Isn’t for someone as young as you, but I can see you need some help. Can you clean?” he asks me, and I immediately start nodding.
I would do anything for something to eat and a shower.
“You can help Greg behind the bar, keep him stocked on clean glasses, and keep the floor and shit clean tonight. If you do a good enough job, we’ll make it a regular thing.” He sighs; it's a deep annoyed noise. “When was the last time you ate?” He makes a point to look me in the eyes when he asks.
“Yesterday,” I answer, looking at the floor. I feel heat in my cheeks, knowing all the other guys in the bar are hearing how desperate of a situation I am in.
“Quinn!” Ron yells without looking over his shoulder.
Quinn walks over to where we are standing and gives me a nod. “Yeah, Ron?” he asks, after looking at Alex like he just killed his pet dog.
“Get,” he pauses. “What’s your name darlin’?” Ron asks me.
“Bree,” I whisper. For some reason, his endearment makes me feel like crying.
“Get Bree something to eat, but nothing heavy, because she’ll get sick as shit if she’s been starving all day. You,” he points at Alex, “and me are going to have a conversation in my office.”
Alex gulps and follows Ron as he starts walking towards a door I didn’t see before to the right side of the bar. I notice the guy who choked Alex smirking and cracking his knuckles, as he follows them into the office and shuts the door.
“Come on, babe, let’s feed you. You like soup?” Quinn asks me.
I can’t find my voice, so I nod and follow him towards the kitchen behind the bar. Tears of hope are streaming down my face for the first time in…well, forever.
Present Day
“Where did you just go?” Ze asks me.
“I was remembering the night I met Ron. That night changed everything. If he hadn't taken us in…if he hadn’t given me a place...and then Alex just left.” I shudder.
“Exactly baby girl. Think long and hard about Ron, you’ll realize there’s something there, something in-between that you’ve been missing.”
I take a moment and think, and, as usual, my mind wanders back to Declan, and I feel myself grinning.
I don’t even notice that’s the first flashback I’ve had that didn’t cause a panic attack.
“Now, tell me why you’re smiling so much more now? I like it. But I don’t want to have to kill the reason.” Ze’s tone is teasing, but I can tell he’s half serious. God knows if there was anyone who could take down someone Declan’s size, it would be Ze.
I realize I’m blushing. I don’t know how to explain Declan to anyone. Maybe it doesn’t seem like much has happened between us on the outside, but to me, he’s changing everything. I didn’t know what it felt like to have someone so interested in me, just me. I don’t even know how to explain this to myself.
For some reason, I find myself babbling it all out to Ze. I tell him about me and Dec hooking up. I tell him that Dec didn’t push for more, that he has been texting me, and watching me like a hawk at work.
“Look, I’m happy for you baby girl. I am. But you need to make sure you’re ready for this. Declan sounds like a good guy, which doesn’t surprise me because I know his brother is one. That being said, it doesn't matter how perfect your knight in shining armor is. If you’re not ready, it won’t work. Declan can’t fix you. He can’t fix this for you. You are the only one who can do that. You’re the designer of your own catastrophe. Don’t forget that.” With that, Ze walks off and I know I’m dismissed, despite not completing the workout.
Later, I’m sitting in my room running Ze’s words through my head over and over again.
I know it’s time. Declan has given m
e a glimpse of what my life could be like. I know it’s probably useless, but I want it. I want to smile and laugh. I want to explore my friendship, and more, with Declan. But I know Ze’s right. He’s shown me how to protect myself physically, how to defend myself, but no one can defend me from me. It’s time.
I dig through my junk drawer until I find the business card I’m looking for.
Amanda Walten
Trauma Therapist
520-555-7534
I make the call, and I know nothing is going to be the same now. I’m going to have to bare my soul. I’m going to have to face these demons. I just hope I’m strong enough. But I also know, for the first time since Alex, I’m not alone. I know, without even asking, that Declan is going to be there.
My first few sessions are rough. I practically have a panic attack during the first session.
Trying to spill my soul out to someone is hard. Amanda is patient and perseveres, letting me talk about anything or nothing at all. It doesn’t take long for her to become a safe place for me.
Slowly, piece-by-piece, we deal with one broken shard of me at a time, and, let me tell you, there’s a lot.
But never once do I feel shame. Never once do I feel like this is my fault.
This is a burden I’ve been carrying for far too long…other people’s burdens to be more specific. Learning about trauma and how it affects everyone puts Alex’s and even mother’s behavior into perspective, and makes moving on a little bit easier.
How can you stay mad at someone when they’re acting from their own pain?
More importantly, I learn about forgiveness. Sometimes, you don’t forgive. Sometimes, you just refuse to let something hold you back anymore. That’s not the same as forgiveness; forgiveness is for people who are sorry.
I have to learn to live and move on, despite the absence of apologies that will never come.
Sometimes, in order to move on, we have to accept that some people are just evil, and that it has nothing to do with us in the end; we just got caught in the crossfire.
I just wish I had more answers about Alex and everything he did. Amanda has helped me come to terms with the fact that day may never come, and I feel like with her and Ze’s help, that might just be okay.
21
Declan
This evening at Keegan’s, I’m king of the fucking world. Bree is mine, even if she hasn’t fully acknowledged it yet.
Everything has changed in the last few weeks. We haven’t had sex again, but she talks to me all the time, texting even if we’re not together.
She’s opening her heart to me, and that is more precious than anything she could give me with her body.
Ron’s big meeting, after many delays and reschedules, is finally happening tonight. Even that won’t put a damper on my excellent mood.
Bree dressed up for the meeting; she’s wearing her version of a little black dress, which means it’s obviously black, but loose and flowing down her body to her knees. Every once in a while, she’ll move in just the right way, making the dress hug her curves. In what I’m taking as a nod to yours truly, she wore it with her sparkly Converse.
If I could, I would spend my entire night just sitting and watching her. But, let’s be honest, that’s pretty much any time I’m around Bree.
Ron and his guys are tense tonight.
Jake pulls me aside and tells me if the shit hits the fan to just grab Bree and run out of the back door. He seems more nervous than, well, ever. Jake has always had this crazy streak in him; I don’t think he was born with the same survival instincts normal people have. Jake doesn’t just live on the line between fearless and reckless; he fucking tap dances on that shit.
I don’t like nervous Jake. He’s always a volatile guy, but nervous Jake is a whole different animal.
I especially don't like that it seems as if, when something goes down, I will be forced to choose between Bree and Jake. I can’t just run out of a back door and abandon my brother.
Ron gave me a speech in his office at the beginning of my shift, basically telling me the same thing.
“Bree is your priority. The minute things look like they’re going south, you grab her and you get the fuck out of here. Don’t look back,” he had said.
That was the moment when I knew it was officially time to start freaking the fuck out.
The most nervous person in the place tonight, however, was that Quinn guy. Hands down. Something was definitely up with him.
Quinn was more twitchy than normal, his pupils wider than normal. He kept watching Bree, too, he always did, but tonight he wasn’t even paying attention to where he was walking, I saw him bump into quite a few people and even a chair once, while we all waited for the New York crew to arrive. I would have laughed my ass off at him if it wasn’t kind of freaking me out.
I had asked Jake for some basic background on who was coming. He said Tony was basically the equivalent of Ron, but hadn’t been quite as successful because of so many traitors in his crew.
Apparently, Tony also didn’t draw the line on certain crimes like Ron did. Ron allowed drugs to be sold in his territory but if you got caught selling to kids he would end you. He allowed prostitution, but only if the women were willing and working for themselves. There were no pimps that we knew of in Ron’s territory. He wasn’t a good man, but he wasn’t a bad man.
Tony knew Ron hadn’t had the same issues, and saw the chance to ally with Ron, expand everyone’s territory and at the same time get some help weeding out who kept turning on him. Apparently, he had a new second-in-command that he was anxious to introduce to Ron.
I just don't know if Tony was willing to give up what Ron was going to ask him to. Ron wouldn't tolerate that shit in any area he was responsible for.
Tony arrived with about six guys. They introduced themselves, but I barely paid attention.
To me, all these thugs were pretty interchangeable. Thugs were a dime a dozen in my opinion. Besides Jake, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you the difference between Tony’s guys and Ron’s. Lots of suits and tattoos.
There were a few tense moments as the guys all sized each other up when they first walked in, Jake and Greg one hundred percent being the instigators of that. Fucking Jake and his inability to avoid starting shit.
Things got a little bit tenser when Ron pointed out that Tony’s new second was not present. Apparently, this was some kind of insult, but Tony insisted the guy was running late and would eventually arrive.
Allegedly, his second was “finishing up some business” and had to catch a later flight. I didn’t even want to think about what that business could have been.
Ron’s crew aren’t good guys, but I also know they aren’t out robbing or killing innocents. Sure, Jake’s killed, but the few I know about… Well, they deserved worse if we’re being honest.
Despite all this, I couldn’t wipe this fucking smile off my face. The memory of how Bree tastes, those freaking sounds she makes, and the way she feels wrapped in my arms. I reached down and discreetly adjusted the hard-on I was now sporting.
God, I couldn’t wait to get out of here. I am definitely going home with her tonight. Maybe I can talk her into coming to my place? Her place is closer, but there is something about being in the place she shared with that asshole that bothers me.
Plus, she needs to get comfortable in my space. If I have any say, it’ll be our place as soon as possible.
To say I am distracted right now is an understatement, and a huge mistake on my part.
The meeting has been going smoothly for about an hour. Tony and Ron are locked in his office, and Tony’s guys are sitting around, not drinking alcohol, but at least attempting to be civil to Ron’s guys in the bar’s main seating area.
A few of Ron’s guys have been playing pool, but no one is as relaxed as they normally are.
Greg seems to be hanging closer to Jake than normal, which is fucking saying something. Those two are inseparable.
Because of my awesome
lack of observation skills tonight, I didn’t notice anyone new walking into the bar.
No, it wasn’t until Bree’s gasp, and the sound of a glass shattering, that the new guy got my attention. I immediately moved toward Bree, who was standing just in front of the bar, still as a statue, broken glass all around her feet.
I know something is seriously wrong; she’s never dropped a glass the entire time I’ve been here, and, in bartending, that’s rare.
I take a moment to be grateful she’s wearing her Converse, and not her usual thin leather flats, so her feet are protected from the glass.
Her mouth is hanging open, her eyes wide, and her expression is that of someone seeing a ghost.
“You got a lot of fucking nerve walking in here,” Greg’s enraged voice snaps my attention from Bree, and I look toward the stranger who has made it closer to the bar by now.
As soon as I get a good look at him, I know who he is, despite never having seen him before in my life.
Alex.
My mind is racing -- half panic, half rage -- as I push Bree away from the glass shards, and take a protective stance in front of her. She gives me no resistance; I think she’s gone into shock.
Why God, why is he here now? She’s finally mine. More importantly, she’s finally healing. Bree is stronger now than she has been in probably her whole life, but is she strong enough to handle this?
I have a moment of pure terror: what if he’s here for her?
My mind begins racing. If he is here for her, what is she going to do? Everything between us, this stronger Bree, it’s all so new, so fragile.
It takes me about one more second to decide that if I kill him, this whole problem is solved.
Jake clearly has the same idea. I fucking love my brother.
He stands so quickly his chair flips backwards, and lunges forward shouting, “You’re a fucking dead man.”
Greg wraps a beefy arm across Jake’s chest, holding him back and whispering in his ear. Jake stills, murder in his eyes, as he glares at Alex.
