Close To Falling

by Paige P. Horne

  “Take my shirt off,” I tell her. B grabs the bottom and removes my shirt before she lets it slide through her fingers. She’s sweet as candy and the prettiest girl I’ve ever been with. No one before her mattered or felt like this. I suck on her bottom lip as I lift my hips again over and over until my stomach muscles burn and her legs shake. I dip my head and kiss her chest, sucking and marking her soft skin. I keep going and tell her she is my fucking world as I let go, too.

  ***

  “Yo, River, we need you to make that run, man.”

  I slip my hoodie off my head and turn the forklift off. I’ve been working for twelve hours straight. I haven’t even had time to call B. I jump down and walk over to Swift.

  “What’s it for?” I ask.

  “Don’t need to know, kid,” he replies, giving me an envelope. “You’ll get the rest when it’s done.” I nod and take the manila envelope from him. Sliding it into my back pocket, I grab a smoke from my pack and slip my hoodie back on. I jump into the oversized truck and press the clutch before I crank it. It rumbles to life, and I put it in gear and press the gas, turning the steering wheel and making my way to the already opening gate. Pulling out onto the main road, I light my cigarette and roll the window down. The night air feels good as I head to the spot to drop this shit off. I don’t think about anything but driving straight and getting to my destination.

  ***

  I pull around the old bar and see the usual man sitting out back. He’s in a metal chair and has a smoke lit. I put the truck in park and jump out. Walking toward the end of the trailer, I toss my cigarette and unlock the bolt. I hear commotion and look toward the guy sitting down. He jumps up and takes off running inside. I hear guns fire, and I quickly run back to the front of the truck. Snatching the door open, I go to jump in.

  “Hold up.” I hear and freeze. Shit. “Step down from the truck and put your hands in the air.” I put my foot back on the ground and slowly turn around. A man in a suit and tie holds a gun up, pointing it directly at me.

  I hear the doors on the truck open and someone say, “This is it.” The suit grins.

  “You running drugs, boy?”

  “Hey, I have no idea what’s in that truck,” I reply calmly.

  “Sure, you don’t,” the gun owner says as he walks toward me. “You had no idea you were hauling bricks.”

  “Bricks?” I ask.

  “Put your hands behind your head. You have the right to remain silent…”

  He goes on reading me my rights, and my mind flashes to Maddie as the cold metal clinks across my wrist. I don’t even hear what he is saying anymore as he walks me past the truck. Two men are going through the contents and tossing out bricks of cocaine. From the looks of it, I’m fucked.

  ***

  “So, you’re telling me you had no idea there were two hundred pounds of cocaine in the back of that truck?” The man who is talking to me has on a gun vest and a cup of coffee sitting in front of him. We have been at this all night, and I’ve told the fucker a million times I didn’t know what was in the truck. I’m not lying. I had no idea I was distributing roughly eighty million in drugs. I have a court-appointed lawyer, and he couldn’t be more of an idiot. First off, he is letting this coffee drinking piece of shit talk to me, and he is nowhere to be found.

  ***

  Court days come, and court days go. They busted up the biker bar where I was dropping the drugs off, but the docks remain safe. No one knows where the truck came from because my mouth hasn’t told shit, so the Brothers are good. I don’t give a shit about them, but I’m not a snitch, and because I won’t talk, they find me guilty for drug trafficking. I’m facing six years. I look back at Maddie as I stand and the guard handcuffs me. Baby has tears in her eyes, and it fucking kills me.

  ***

  I step out of the small transfer van and wince from the harsh sunlight. They move me from holding room to holding room. My clothes are stripped, and I go from wearing orange to blue. I’m no longer a visitor at the county jail. I’m a prisoner now, and once I’m given my blanket, cup, and shown to my cell, it all sinks in. I fucked up, but this is what I’ve got, and I have to man up and deal with it. You can’t be a pussy in prison or you’ll get treated as one.

  ***

  Time drags in this place. My cellmate has changed more than a few times, and I’m now paired with a man that’s bigger than Lou Ferrigno. He snores loud as shit, and I can’t sleep.

  I saw B today. She was struggling, and I could tell she hadn’t used before she came. Love does it out of respect for me, but it kills her. I tried to laugh all of this off, but when she said she wished she could touch me, something in me broke. This isn’t a laughing matter, and I miss the fuck out of her.

  ***

  The days pass by with me working in the wood shop. I get shit pay, but it’s something to help move time, and I kind of like it. Weeks go by, and my thoughts turn against me. I don’t know if I can watch Maddie come and see me like this for six years. I want her to be happy, and she can’t be happy with a deadbeat boyfriend in prison. I step outside and light the smoke I’ve been holding on to. My eyes go around the yard, taking in everything. Looking at murderers and rapists, men who just don’t give a fuck and are in here for life. Gangs are everywhere, and drug deals are going down right in front of everyone’s eyes, but people ignore it, even the guards because half of them are in on it, too. It’s dirty as hell in this place.

  “What’s up, man?” I turn and see a guy with more tattoos than skin. I lift my chin and hit my smoke. “You got an extra I can get?” he asks. I open my pack and hold it out for him. He takes one and leans back against the wall with me.

  “Name’s Rozz,” he says, lighting his smoke.

  “River,” I reply. “Who did your tats?”

  “Me mostly,” he replies, looking down at his arms. I look down, too, and see that they are good.

  “In here?”

  “Yeah, they let me keep my machine in exchange for free tats.”

  “You think you can hook me up?” I ask him. He looks over at me and nods.

  “What are you in here for?”

  “Wrong place, wrong time,” I reply. He laughs.

  “Ain’t that everyone’s story in this bitch?”

  “Nah, some of these fuckers had serious intentions.” I chuckle. “What about you?”

  “My girl decided she wanted another man’s dick. I decided I didn’t want her to live anymore, so I cut her throat while she was sleeping.” I lift my brow and inhale my cigarette. He laughs. “I’m fucking with you, dude.”

  “I wasn’t going to say anything if you weren’t.” I kinda laugh.

  “I got into some bad shit as a kid and couldn’t stay out of trouble. Selling drugs and stealing,” he says. “You get caught doing the same bullshit over and over, you finally end up in this place.” He blows smoke from his mouth. “I’ve got to get straight, though. I’ve got a kid on the way.”

  “Congrats.”

  “’Preciate it. Let me know when you want to get started on those tats,” Rozz says. “And thanks for the smoke.”

  “Sure thing.” I nod.

  ***

  I’m sitting in the visitation room waiting for Landon. Wringing my hands and looking down at my healing tats, my eyes go to the door when people start to walk in. When I see the beach boy, I stand up and walk over to him.

  “What’s up, brother?” I say as I take his hand in mine.

  “Damn, dude, you’re getting swole,” he replies, gripping my hand before he pats my back.

  “The fuck else am I going to do in this place?” I ask, smiling and taking a seat.

  “Someone’s doing your arms?” he asks, looking down at my new tattoos.

  “Yeah, this guy named Rozz. He’s pretty damn good, too.”

  “They look badass,” Landon says. “So, how are things?”

  “As good as they can be.” He nods and looks around the room. “How’s she doing, man?” I ask once he looks
back at me.

  “Shit, dude. She’s got a new job downtown, but she stays out late and doesn’t show up half the time.”

  I rub the back of my neck. “The drugs?”

  “She keeps to herself mostly, but she’s a walking zombie.”

  “Have you tried to talk to her?” I ask him.

  “What should I say, brother? You know she isn’t going to listen to me. She’s a stubborn ass.”

  I laugh, because she damn sure is. “I don’t know what to do. I mentioned her not coming anymore, and she fucking flipped on me, man. Made me promise to not say anything like that again. But this shit is killing her. I feel like she is fading away. She’s lost weight, and I can tell she isn’t sober when she comes anymore. You and Frankie have to get her help, or we’re all going to lose her.”

  “Yeah,” he replies. “I’ll mention it.”

  ***

  As the weeks go by in here, things change. Having learned I am Pops’ boy, the Brothers have taken me under their watch. My dad was high in crime, and apparently, high up in the ranks. All I had to do was make one phone call when I got cuffed for beating that fucker who was giving my girl drugs. Swift got me out with no issue, and the matching ink on his neck and my dad’s is why. The gangs like to pick you out and give you a hard time, so you have no choice but to choose sides. Having friends is important, even if you don’t want them, but with new friends come new enemies. I’ve had to knuckle up more than once just to prove I’m not a pussy. But this one guy with Black Crow ink won’t keep his mouth shut, so I’m going to have to do something about it. It will put me in the hole for a week, but I need time to myself. I’ve got to figure out what I’m going to do with my drugged-out girl.

  The Brothers have my back as I make my way into the chow hall. It’s not a choice I have. I’d like to take care of this myself, but in here you need someone watching your back. I see that punk fucker sitting with a group of his people, and I grip the tray in my hand. As I make my way over, a few Black Crows lift their heads toward me. Big mouth turns around, and adrenaline pumps through my veins. I give him a grin as I dump the tray. Not even giving him a minute to realize what’s happening, I swipe him across the face with it. He falls out of his seat, and his gang jumps up, but Pops’ puppies are behind me, and the Black Crows are outnumbered. They back up as I reach down and grab the shit talker by his shirt. I draw back, and blood spatters from his left eye as my fist connects with it.

  “Keep my name out of your mouth, fuck boy.” I look up when I hear guards coming toward us.

  “Or what?” he says and then slams his fist into my mouth. I reach my hand out to grab him by the throat. I grip on tight, hardly missing his slinging fist. I keep my hold even when he starts struggling for air. He goes limp, and I smile as I’m being pulled into a different direction.

  “You just earned yourself a few days down the block, kid.” I get told, but at least I’ll be alone, and maybe I can get some sleep.

  ***

  Bars from the bed I’m lying on press into my back. The mattress is so worn out it hardly exists at all, but the cell is quiet, and right now that’s what I need. My arms are folded behind my head as I stare at darkness. My mind shifts thoughts, fighting with my heart to tell B to move on. I know that’s what she needs to do. Sweet love needs help, the kind I can’t give. The kind she can’t get coming to see me all the time. When I saw her last, she looked completely lost, and it rips pieces of my heart every time I see her like that. I’ve loved that girl since I was too young to know what love is. I’ll lose myself without her, but I can’t be myself in this place anyway.

  I laugh, thinking how I told her she was going to break my heart. Turns out, I’m going to have to do it to her. But only for a while. I will come back for her. I’ve always been the bad kid. The boy who broke all the rules––the one with bad intentions. But I swear on everything, I’ve never had anything but good intentions toward Maddie B. Callaway. I’ll love her till I die, and I’ll be okay with that. I’ve got to set my wild girl free. I’ve got to let her go.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Nine Years Later

  The breeze from my open French door flows into my spacious studio, moving dark strands from my shoulder. I roll my neck and grab my water glass. It’s later than lunchtime, and I turn away from my work and look out into the city life. I hear traffic and the hustle of Friday. Taking a sip from my glass, I look up at the chrome ceiling fan and watch as it goes round and round. I drink what’s left of my wine and hop off my stool. Grabbing my oyster pail that was filled with lo mein, I make my way out of my studio and into the kitchen. I toss the pail and put my glass down. The TV plays in the background, and I look across the room when I hear something about the U.S. surfing championships. The announcer is speaking about how perfect the day is, and he starts naming off the surfers competing. I smile when I see Landon’s face pop up on the screen. My brother has gone far, and I couldn’t be prouder. I haven’t seen him in a while because he travels a lot, but we speak a few times a week.

  I look over at my calendar. Thinking of Landon has made me think of Frankie. His birthday is coming up, and I need to send the fresh honey I’ve gotten him.

  Frankie never did move. I don’t visit. I haven’t been back to that house. But Frankie comes here, and we cook and watch sports together. I don’t care for sports, but Frankie does. I look over when my door slides open and in walks Sarah.

  “Hey, we need to send that honey to Frankie,” I tell her.

  “Okay, I’ll get on that this afternoon. Did you get my text?” she asks, sliding the door back closed.

  “No,” I reply, looking around for my phone. “I haven’t even looked at the thing all morning.”

  “Of course, you haven’t,” she says, rolling her eyes and walking straight to the table beside the couch where my phone is. I grin. She looks at the TV. “Well, I see you figured it out anyway.”

  “Oh, was it about Landon?”

  “Yes, I was telling you to get out of your head for five minutes and watch your brother do his thing.”

  “He is good, isn’t he?” I smile, walking over to the couch to sit down.

  “He is,” she agrees, sitting down beside me. “So, what have you come up with?”

  “I’ve made up two pieces so far,” I reply, running a hand through my hair and rubbing my eyes.

  “Well, we still have a few weeks for you to come up with more. I’ve contacted a local framer, so we need to sit down and decide on the molding style as soon as you finish. I’ve emailed, texted, and called everyone I can think of to promote the gallery. So far I’ve gotten a good response. Your work is fantastic, Maddie, and a lot of people agree.” She's bright-eyed with a proud tone. She moves her blonde hair off her shoulder before she looks back down at her phone.

  “Thank you,” I reply, grabbing my phone to text Landon. I know he won’t see it until later, but I want him to know I was watching. I see that I have two missed texts, one from Sarah and another from Landon, telling me not to forget the championship. I feel like crap that he has to remind me. It’s not that I don’t care—I’m just… Well, like Sarah said, in my head. Especially now that I have this art function coming up. Following your passion isn’t an easy road, but who said it would be anyway? “Landon texted me, too,” I tell my right-hand lady.

  “He said he would,” she says, but she isn’t looking at me. She’s traded her phone for a tablet, and I'm sure she's probably working on something for me. The woman works her ass off, and I’d be lost without her. “So your birthday is coming up.” Now she’s looking at me.

  “Yeah,” I say.

  “I think we should celebrate. You’re turning thirty.” She wiggles her eyebrows, and I roll my eyes.

  “I don’t like parties much.”

  “It’ll just be family and close friends then. Nothing big, just maybe dinner or something. We could have it here, and I’ll cook. I’ll set it all up,” she says. “You won’t have to do anything but get dressed.�
�� And her mind is made. I might as well not fight it. It’ll be me against all of them. Frankie will agree with me for a minute and then change his mind because of Landon, and then Landon will agree with Sarah, because what she wants is what he wants.

  “Fine. Can I wear my pajamas?”

  “No,” she replies. “I’ll get your outfit.”