by Leanne Davis
Tony glanced at her and nodded to her silent question. He stepped back when Gretchen finally calmed down and held her hand in his. “I think Olivia’s right. I think he’s going to seek revenge for this. You saw him, despite your anger, you saw how upset the kid was. He’s just a kid, Gretchen. A messed-up, all alone kid. I’m not saying I don’t want to rip his throat out for what happened to Olivia. And I never want him coming near her again. But letting him go off and disappear without another word? I can’t do it. And Olivia can’t deal with it if he does. She needs closure, and that won’t bring it.”
Gretchen’s voice cracked, “I just can’t believe he was what he was.”
Tony released her. “You need to take care of Olivia. Okay?”
He held Gretchen’s gaze in his intense way, and Gretchen finally nodded as she came around to Olivia. She collapsed into a chair to hold her hand. They clutched each other as Tony kissed both of them gently on their foreheads before walking out. Olivia’s heart clenched in fear; she was afraid for her dad and Derek and herself, as well as what her life had become.
****
Derek started trashing his apartment. He threw the bedding around, ransacked his duffel bags and tossed everything out of the cabinets. Fuck this place! He was never coming back to it. He dug around until he finally removed the gun he’d so carefully hidden. There it was. Still wrapped in a small, black, cloth bag. He cautiously pulled it out. He never touched the weapon again. Not since the night he pulled the trigger and hit his dad squarely in the chest with a bullet.
Jerking his head to the side as if to avoid the familiar images of his dad’s torso flexing backward and then forward with the impact of the bullet. And the blood gushing from his chest before he fell to his knees and dropped into a faceplant. Dead. In seconds. The terrible power to end a life faster than inhaling a breath.
He now held it in his hands, which shook uncontrollably. So did his entire body. He was sick again. He’d thrown up three times on the way here. His headache blinded him. Quentrell with Olivia. Innocent, sweet Olivia looking up at Quentrell and dancing and flirting in what she thought was harmless fun and expressing her youth. She never dreamt he might try to overdose her. He could have so easily raped her, or let one of his brutes have her. Derek’s hand shook harder as he squeezed the cloth-covered gun. It dropped from his hands onto the floor and he jumped back from it as if it were a snake suddenly released from its cage and striking. Sweat beaded on his forehead and streamed down his temples and face. Any minute now. He expected Quentrell any second to collect him. To see Derek’s take on his “reeducation.” Quentrell knew Derek didn’t carry weapons because he never fought. It should have been no problem now for Quentrell to require Derek’s complete obedience. Not to mention, his utter devotion.
A bullet slicing through his chest would be the last thing he expected.
But what choice did Derek have? Olivia was in danger now. Her life was ruined, her dreams and music… and none of that should have happened to her. He caused it. But he couldn’t undo it, could he? However, he might have been able to stop the threat at its very source. If he killed Quentrell, and cut the head off the monster, it would end. Sure, someone would try to retaliate, and probably right then and there. But what did that matter? Derek contemplated dying for more than two months, and lately he could see its advantages. It beckoned him away from a life he could no longer handle. If Quentrell were dead, Max and Olivia could be free to pursue their own paths safely, while he… Death was the only way out of this for him. He knew that now.
He leaned down and picked up the gun before stuffing it into his backpack. This was it.
A sense of serene tranquility, like he hadn’t experienced in months, suddenly filled him. His sweat began to dry, and his hands quit shaking. The choice he made took away his fear. At last, he would slay the dragon for the first and last time.
He opened the heavy door without bothering to lock it as he left. He easily walked away from his residence and car and all his stuff because he no longer needed any of it. There was nothing left of his life. There was nothing in his life that mattered a damn anymore. Admitting it, and accepting his decision to act filled him with a renewed sense of purpose. His resolution provided him with a challenge he never experienced, not even once in his life.
No words could convey the sorrow he felt for what he did to Olivia. All of it. There was no possible way he could atone for the wrongs he committed against her. There would be no redemption for him. There never had been. Maybe he’d always known that his life would come down to that. You don’t murder your own father and proceed to have a life filled with success and happiness. You had to atone for it, and now, at long last, Derek was. The peace that he was granted felt almost as wonderful as his confidence in his resolution. So this was how his life was supposed to end.
Chapter Fifteen
DEREK WALKED FOR THREE miles, deep into the dark of night. Few people were about. As usual, he was more comfortable being on the streets than walking on the sunny campus of Olivia’s school. He belonged there, in the shadows, a creature of the dark, and one of the horrible things that go bump in the night. He was never supposed to bask in the light and goodness of someone as decent and good and whole as Olivia.
But he easily blended into the darkness that was even more evil than he. The same blood that coursed through his father and older brother flowed through him. He hoped by freeing Max of his further influence as well as that of Quentrell, he’d find a way to be better than them. That wasn’t setting the bar very high. But anything would have been better. He stopped before the darkened building where he felt sure he would find Quentrell. The bottom level was occupied by hopeless, shitty losers who either owed Quentrell, worked for him, or fucked him. It was the place where Quentrell crashed the most often, tonight included. Derek saw Quentrell’s massive SUV.
He swung his backpack around and reached inside for the cloth-covered solution. It touched his fingertips and he slowly he withdrew it. He was staring up at the building, concentrating on his plan, and scanning for any signs of anyone spotting him. The back way he took to get there was dark and he didn’t see another soul around.
He was focused and sure and ready. Oh yes! He was so ready for this. A sense of power and righteousness provided the courage that usually escaped him. Always before, he ran. He lacked the courage. Now, he felt it right down inside his gut. That irresistible sense of now or never. Do or die. Kill or be killed. And, for once, he didn’t care if he were killed. The absence of fear made him feel invincible. He was Teflon. He was Olivia’s one and only chance for safety. He felt invigorated. Complete. Ready. He felt—
A hand wrapped around his wrist, shaking his arm and making him drop the gun innocuously back inside the bag as he was taken from behind. He tried to struggle, but the big body had him blocked in. His fear instantly returned.
“Calm down, kid. Calm down. It’s me. No one’s going to hurt you.”
Derek’s entire body went limp. Tony. It was Tony’s voice. He had no idea how Tony could have found him. Or why he was there. He was in the dark on the backside of the city, which most people never knew about. He was filled with relief, which flooded his senses and comforted him. Falling back against Tony, his guttural sobs choked him, and he fell down to his knees. The cloth bag was totally forgotten. Tony came down behind him and kept his hand on his back. Derek leaned forward and the tears rolled down his face. He curled up into a ball, crying, and sobbing, and wanting to die, or be saved. He didn’t know. The pain and guilt immobilized him, although he was still primed and ready to commit murder. Now what? He didn’t know. But someone had come for him.
“It’s okay, kid, it’s okay. We’ll find a way to make it okay.” Tony’s voice sounded like it was coming through a faraway tunnel. Over and over, he repeated it in a soothing, almost meditative chant.
No. No. NO! There was never a time it had been okay. There would never be a time it was okay. NO! his brain screamed. His tears choked him and he couldn’t spe
ak. Minutes passed before Derek’s mind reengaged and realized the situation he was in. After he calmed down, he started to feel the cold, wet pavement under him, and the gritty dirt under his hands where he pressed down. He was prone and lying on the ground. When he stopped crying and started to sit up, he wrapped his arms around his knees and sat there until he calmed down. He kept his head bowed in embarrassment and shame. He was the biggest pansy alive. But Tony stayed there near him. Calm and quiet.
“I won’t do it. You can leave now,” he finally muttered, staring at the soles of his shoes. His hollow tone indicated he was back in his head.
“I’m not leaving, Derek. I’m not leaving you here like this.”
He jerked his gaze to the older man. “What the hell is wrong with you? I almost got your daughter killed! You can’t come after me and… What? What are you going to do?”
“Help you. I think I’m going to end up helping you because there’s no one else. And I can’t live with a stupid kid getting killed for nothing. For what? Drugs? Screw that shit! You don’t get to break my daughter’s heart in a tragic outcry. She wanted me to come after you, and she was right. Look at how right she was. So get up, Derek. GET UP! You’re done with this shit. You’re done with all this shit.”
Tony stared hard into his eyes; Derek stared hard right back. “You don’t understand. There is no getting out. They’ll kill me. I can’t leave. I can’t quit. If it isn’t me who pays, it’s Olivia. Or Max. Just let it end, Tony. Let me end this as best I can. It’s the only decent thing I can do with my worthless life. God, don’t you get it? I’m a drug dealer! It’s not a joke; it’s not a gag, or a guy being wild in college, or some such shit. This is for real. The things I’ve done and seen and been involved with? I can never just leave without my action costing others! I’m worthless alive!”
Tony held his gaze and didn’t speak for a long while. Rain dropped in soft plops around them. The runoff gurgled a few feet away into a storm drain. Derek’s body was wet and cold and shivers started to break out over him. Still, they didn’t speak. Finally, Tony shook his head. “It’s not the only decent thing you can do. Get up. Get in my car. Show me where your brother lives. I’m not, no, we’re not abandoning you to die on these streets like a rabid dog. Fuck that, Derek. Do you hear me? Your life is not worthless. Your life is not over tonight. And you are not using my daughter to justify commiting murder. So get your scrawny ass up and follow me.”
They scowled at each other for a long time. Derek didn’t know what to do. This was not part of his plans. He never imagined this scenario. He had no clue how to react. No one had ever fought for him. No one. But what? He was supposed to just leave now? How could he? How could he justify the cowardice of that? He was ready and willing to die, and now Tony was trying to… What? Forbid him from doing that?
“Get up and get in my car. If for no other reason than because you owe Olivia. You owe her this, Derek. She can’t deal with your death. She’ll blame herself. Don’t do that to her.”
Would she? How could she care enough after what he’d done? He kept his hard glare fastened on Tony. His face was a mess and he wiped his nose on his shirt sleeve. Shaking his head, he muttered, “She should never see me again.”
“Well, she’s going to. We all are. Get up and get in my car.”
“How did you find me?”
“I followed you from your place. Olivia sent me after you almost right after you left the hospital. For being a dealer and a tough thug, you never once looked up and figured out you were being followed. Jesus! I didn’t even try to dodge you. I could hide and track anything in the Army and no one ever knew I was there. I didn’t even try with you, so you’re really bad at this career.”
Inexplicably, a small smile tugged at Derek’s lips. He intended to commit murder tonight, or suicide, or something equally terrible and now he dared to smile?
“Get up, kid, we have a lot more to deal with.”
He slowly put his feet under his knees and rose to a stand. Tony held his backpack and his gun. Derek hung his head and dug his hands into his wet jeans. Tony nodded towards his car that was parked at the end of the alley. How the hell had he not heard it? He glanced around. He’d been in a zone where he noticed nothing around him and could have been killed just for being stupid. He went over to the gray sedan and got in.
Tony got into the driver’s seat, adjusted the heat to high, flipped a U-turn, and pulled onto the empty street. A taxi passed them, and another sedan. The quiet was very surreal and awkward after the odd, crazy behavior he just displayed. Derek remembered crying in a fetal position after clutching the gun he intended to kill Quentrell with. Shutting his eyes in humiliation, he shifted his wet butt around, which went well beyond physical discomfort. He opened his eyes and glanced at Tony.
Tony kept his attention on the street. “So, you want to tell me what that was? What were you going to do?”
“I wanted to shoot the man who did that to Olivia. He’s my boss. He’s—” He stopped abruptly, nearly choking out the next words, he’s my brother. But he stopped himself just in time.
Silence followed his proclamation. “You have any idea what it’s like to shoot someone? Watch them bleed out?”
He did, actually. Derek fisted his hand on the door handle. He knew. He remembered the smell of gunpowder and the shock and jolt of the gun as it kicked back when shot.
Tony continued, “I killed while in the Army. It was part of my job. It was supposed to be right, because I was doing it in name of freedom. My duty. But it never felt like it. It didn’t seem like that was enough to justify it, you know? Even though it was kill or be killed. But shooting someone, and watching someone die? It really messes with your head, Derek.”
Derek kept quiet, but finally said, “He’s going to kill me anyway. I think that’s where this is headed. I can’t do this anymore.” He leaned forward and rested his head on his knees.
Tony nodded. “What about your brother? Tell me where he fits into this.”
“He’s just a little, punk kid. Thirteen.”
“Is he in any danger?”
“Yes. He’s been in danger his entire life because of me.”
“I mean today.”
“Yes. That’s why I was going to end it. Stop it once and for all. They threatened Max. If I perform to his satisfaction, Max is safe. That was the deal, but I don’t believe him. Not now.”
“Who is he? Who is him? Who has so much power over you? Who got you selling drugs at the age of eight?”
He licked his lips and lifted his face. Staring out with hollow eyes at the dismal streets he grew up in, Derek answered, “My older brother. My older brother has that power over me.”
“Fuuuck,” Tony muttered.
“Yeah, fuuuck,” Derek mimicked.
“Let’s go get your little brother. Then we’ll figure this out.”
He was dying to know how. How could they figure this out? A reprieve off the streets for a night just delayed his fate. Why bother? But he didn’t open the door and jump out. He didn’t complain or argue. He just sat there, staring at the passing street lamps and empty buildings. He spoke only to guide the car towards the government housing where his mother lived. He hadn’t been there in two years. He assumed Max lived there. He… never really asked. The shame humbled him. He had no idea where his own brother lived. But he knew if Max were living with him, he would end up working for Quentrell too.
Tony shut his car off. It was now three in the morning. Tony got out, taking the backpack and hooking it on his shoulder. Derek did the same and led Tony inside, who, thankfully, didn't comment. They entered the foyer and he started down the hall. It was dark and stunk of dampness and a moldy, smell like mildew. He stopped at his last known address and tapped on the door, calling softly, “Open up. It’s me, Max.”
After a few moments, his brother answered. He glanced at Derek, then at Tony, and shrank back. Derek stepped inside. “It’s okay. He’s cool.”
Max didn’t
reply. Tony’s eagle-eyed gaze took in the trash heap. So did Derek. It was worse than usual. He kicked his foot, pushing away wrappers and laundry. “Where is she?”
Max’s eyes had a weird glint to them as he stepped back. He motioned at Tony as if asking who he was. Derek understood his mistrust. “It’s Olivia’s dad.”
Max’s shoulders relaxed. His face was still screwed up with puzzlement over what her dad might have been doing there in the middle of the night. “Something’s happened. Something big. Quentrell went after Olivia. He OD’d her.”
“Sh-sh-she okay?”
“She is now. She’s in the hospital. I… I tried to go after him. Look, you’re not safe. We need to get out of here.” And go where? Derek had no idea. If Max asked where, he had nothing to say. He had no plan for what to do.
“Where’s your mother?” Tony finally asked and they both jumped, rather startled. Whoever spoke with such authority or interest in them?
Max shook his head, his eyes growing more fearful as he held Derek’s gaze. “What? Max, what is it?”
He shook his head some more, and Derek’s shoulders dropped. “When?”
Tony interrupted. “When what?”
“She’s gone.”
Tony shook his head as if trying to clear his ears out. “You two speak in riddles. What is going on here?”
“Is she coming back?” he ignored Tony. Max shrugged, then shook his head in the negative. “When?”
“F-few months.”
His legs nearly gave out. “How can you afford this place? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“F-f-fights. Earned enough money.”
“You don’t earn enough—”
Suddenly, he knew. He knew in his gut what was going on. “You’re fighting for Quentrell, aren’t you?”
Max wouldn’t meet his gaze. He turned and kicked some of the clutter around him. Derek shook his head. “That’s why you didn’t tell me? That’s why the brass knuckles were used on you?” He fisted his hands, wanting nothing more than to shove them straight into the wall. His brother ended up exactly where he was always destined to be. He watched Max, knowing he could turn around and walk out. Be done. With all of it. Quentrell had Max now. He didn’t have to feel guilty. He could just be gone. Done.
