by Faith Gibson
Chapter 2
Cass
“Let’s take a look,” Snake says, interrupting my thoughts. He gives me a mirror, and I hold it up so I can see the ink running over my shoulder.
“It’s fucking perfect, man.” And it is.
“You ready to do the other side, or you want a break?”
“I wouldn’t mind taking a piss and smoke break first.”
“Go right ahead. Bathroom’s the first door on the left.”
I stand and stretch before walking down the hall to the small bathroom. After relieving myself, I step out the back door and light up. Just another thing to add to the five-page list of shit the old me would never have done. I inhale the menthol deep into my lungs before exhaling through my nose and observing my surroundings. Snake’s house is in a nice neighborhood. Without the overhead of a block building somewhere in town, he keeps all the money for himself. My own house is in a similar neighborhood, but it isn’t filled with kids running around or a woman who lights my smokes. At the moment, it’s filled with renters.
Not letting my thoughts go back there, I snuff the cherry on the bottom of my boot and head back inside. Snake’s waiting, so I sit back down and get comfortable. He cleans and bandages my right shoulder before starting on the left. By the time he’s wrapping up, Jared returns, and the two men shoot the shit about people I don’t know. I pull my shirt back on over the plastic, toss Snake a wad of cash, and thank him for doing a good job. I make an appointment to come back in a month for the next design.
“You hungry?” Jared asks before we hit the highway.
“Fuck yeah. I’m ready for a real meal, not that ground-up dog food I’ve been living on.”
“I heard they had decent food, for a prison.”
“Only if you know the kitchen manager. Jerome snuck me the good shit all the time.”
Jared glances at me out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah? And what’d you have to do for him?”
“I sucked that big black dick every night after lights out,” I say, just to see his reaction. Jared slams on the brakes, and I cackle. I fucking squawk like a hen when someone tries to steal her eggs. “I protected him, you sick fucker,” I clarify. I’m not going to elaborate on what exactly I did for Jerome when I first got locked up. Some things are best left unsaid. Not that Jared would think any less of me. If anyone understands doing what has to be done to stay above ground, it’s my cousin.
Together, we stroll up to the door of a steakhouse I ain’t ever heard of. The hostess takes one look at the two of us, and her mouth drops. Jared, the hardened biker with ink filling every available space on his skin, and me, the newly-released criminal, have to be a sight. “We’d like a seat, darlin’,” he drawls, pulling her attention back to his face. As far as I can tell, she’d been studying his tattoos, but then again, she could have been wishing the floor would open up and swallow her down.
“Yes, uh, right this way,” she says, grabbing two menus and walking toward the bar area. That’s fine by me. I’d rather not sit anywhere near the fucking rugrats throwing French fries and crayons all over the floor. At least that’s what I remember about the last restaurant I’d been to before my life turned to shit. When we’re seated, my mouth waters at the thought of a big, juicy steak or a rack of ribs. Fuck it. I’m getting both. Our waitress is just as taken aback at our appearance as the hostess was, but this girl at least manages to smile. Probably because we’re going to tip her based on her attitude.
“What can I get you fellas to drink?”
“I’ll have a double shot of Jack Daniels, no ice, and a Budweiser.” Jared tells her to make that two of everything, and she leaves us to put in our drink order.
“You’re not wasting any time, are you?” Jared asks.
“Fuck, no. I’m celebrating, man.”
“Now that you’re out, what are you gonna do?”
I lean back in the booth and sling my arm over the top of the vinyl edge. I know exactly what Jared is asking, but I ain’t ready to lay it out in the middle of the fucking bar for everyone to hear. When your life is taken from you by the very ones you’re supposed to be able to trust, by those who are supposed to have your back, you think of all the ways to get even with them. I’ve had thirteen years to plot and plan. I thought I’d have more considering my sentence was thirty years. But the time I’ve had is long enough to learn the shit I needed in order for a plan to be put into play soon after I walked out of the prison. Unbeknownst to Jared, the plan is already in motion. As soon as the word “parole” was mentioned, I took my mind out of the distant future to where I am now. I don’t need Jared to be part of my revenge directly. What I need from him is a place to stay.
A job.
An alibi.
I’m not going to involve him unless I’m left with no choice. Over the last thirteen years, I made more friends than enemies both on the inside and out, which is a feat in itself for a cop behind bars. Granted, when I went in, I was a rookie and hadn’t put anyone away. But the cocksuckers who ensured I landed on the wrong side of the razor wire had made plenty of enemies, and I had no trouble spilling my guts about every fucking thing I knew about them, which wasn’t much.
Instead of answering his question, I deflect and tell my cousin, “I gotta get my feet under me first. Work with you, learn the trade. Make some cake.” I have plenty of money in the bank that hasn’t been touched, just sitting there, growing interest. Jared has seen to my finances while I was locked up, making sure I had cash on the inside for the things I needed. He’s also overseen the rental of my house while I was away. I didn’t want to sell it, but I couldn’t let it sit empty, either. “How much time is left on the lease?”
“About two months. I’ve already told the tenants to make plans to move.”
I have two months to decide if I can move back into the house where I lived with her or if I’m finally ready to let it go. The waitress comes back with our drinks, halting our conversation. We both order a lot of food, and I ask for another whiskey, telling the pretty girl to keep them coming. I down the Jack and sip on the beer. I was never a drinker, so the liquor takes its toll pretty fucking quick, but that’s what I want. For the first little bit, I want the numbness to kick in. How fucking pathetic is that? Thirty-five fucking years old and I’ve never been drunk. Booze was available on the inside. So were drugs, but I had to keep a level head at all times to maintain the upper hand. When you become one of the motherfuckers no one wants to mess with, there’s always the possibility of being challenged by the next new kid looking to become the top dog.
Jared holds up his beer bottle and says, “Here’s to your new life.” I clank my longneck to his and take a long pull. When the waitress brings the food, I dig in like a man who hasn’t eaten in weeks. Prison food wasn’t as bad as I let on, but it was nowhere near as good as the stuff I’m currently shoveling in as fast as I can chew and swallow. Jared finishes eating way before I do, so he fills me in on what he’s been doing lately while I continue gorging on ribs and steak.
“I finally found the intake manifold for the ’66 Super Sport. I’m going to pick it up tomorrow if you wanna ride with. That is, if you’re not too hungover.”
I’m not as drunk as I thought I’d get. Probably all the food is soaking up the alcohol as much as my bloodstream is. “Yeah, that’d be great. I wanna see as much of Texas as I can, man. Ready to ride with the windows down and breathe in the air. I don’t give a rat’s ass how hot it is.” I’ve been an outside person all my life. I played basketball and ran track in high school. I mowed yards for the elderly on the weekends. I even took her to the lake as often as possible so we could sit by the water and plan our future. Having been locked inside for so long with only an hour a day outside has done something to my soul. It chipped away at it until I now have no soul left. Maybe there’s a sliver of something still inside, but after my plan is complete, I’ll be headed straight to hell with a first-class ticket. If Satan knows what’s good for him, he’ll kick my f
ucking ass out before I get one foot through the gate.
Gone is the good boy.
Gone is the husband who loved his wife and looked forward to being a father.
Gone is the man who gave one good goddamn about being on the right side of the badge I once wore so proudly.
The combination of being betrayed, set up, and used, along with being stuck in that fucking hole has eaten away at everything good I used to be. A lot of men find God while they’re on the inside. I lost God. Maybe lost isn’t the right word. More like I never forgave him for tossing me aside after a lifetime of serving him. Now the only one I serve is myself.
Getting back to the conversation, I add, “Plus, I need to go shopping for some new clothes.” My before prison attire, even if it would fit me now, was for a different kind of man. One who had his whole life mapped out. Now, my future is uncertain, but thanks to Jared and some very good acquaintances I made in the pen, I am ready to change all that.
After we pay the tab, Jared and I head to his house that is to be my home for at least the next two months. The things I have dreamed about for so long are becoming a reality. Not just big things, either. It’s the simple things most people take for granted I’m looking forward to the most. Getting up in the middle of the night to get a drink of water that isn’t from a nasty faucet. Walking outside and looking at the stars. Staying outside all night if I want. Being able to choose what food I ingest, whenever I feel like it. Having an actual bed with soft covers and a nice pillow to lay my head on.
Sure, there are people who don’t have those things, and I guess being broke and homeless is worse than being in prison. But fuck if I will take anything for granted ever again. While getting my feet under me, I am going to appreciate the small stuff, and that starts with petting the big-ass Rottweiler that is sniffing my boots. “Hey there. You must be Zeus.” I kneel down to give the dog a good rubbing. Zeus returns the sentiment by licking me upside the face. Laughing, I wipe the slobber off my cheek with the back of my hand.
Jared walks through the small house to the kitchen where he grabs a beer out of the fridge. He holds it out to me, but I decline. He twists the cap off the bottle and takes a pull before saying, “Make yourself at home, Cass. I’m gonna check on some orders. Your room’s all ready. It’s Tallulah’s old room, the second one on the left. I even painted it something besides pink,” Jared tells me with a sad look in his eyes.
“Thanks, bro. For everything.” I don’t wait on a response. Jared already knows what I’ve been through, and he also knows what it means to have someone accept you for who you are, regardless of the shit you get up to or the way you turn out. Sometimes, things beyond our control mold us into someone or something we never intended to be. Forged in the fire known as life, our edges are honed to a sharp point.
I make my way to the back of the house where his ex-old lady’s daughter lived for a few years. Jared was married a long time ago to a real pretty chick named Gina. She was the love of his life, much the way she was mine. I was only fifteen when their shit went down, but I remember it vividly because it was when my cousin shut down and his life flipped to the dark side. Gina had been pregnant with their first baby. Everything was going along great. A name had been chosen, the nursery had been painted, and my mom even threw them a shower at our house. It was how I knew Jared was so fucking happy. He was right there with Gina, opening presents and rubbing on her belly between kisses.
All that happiness turned dark when Gina miscarried one night on the side of the road on her way back from visiting her parents. Not only did she lose the baby, she passed out before anyone could get to her, and she bled out in the middle of nowhere. There were technical terms thrown around for why she miscarried, but the kicker was when my mother called it “God’s will.” I had never seen my cousin ready to kill someone like he was when he turned his attention to my mother. After that, Jared got lost in booze and drugs for a while, but he eventually pulled his head out of his ass and got his shop going.
He went through women like he went through alcohol until a few years back when he met Stella at a bike rally. Before her, he’d never allowed a woman to even spend the night, but there was something different about her. Jared won’t admit it, but by the wistfulness in his voice when he mentions the little girl, I’m pretty sure Tally was the clincher. The girl was five when Jared met Stella, and she stole Jared’s fucking heart. Again, something he still won’t admit. After a couple of months, he moved them both in with him, stopped drinking, and really made a name for himself in the customization business. After a couple years of living together, Stella wanted more, but Jared refused to marry her, so Stella walked out of his life, taking the little girl with her. That was three years ago.
While I was sitting in prison transforming myself into something else, Jared was slipping into something else as well when he no longer had Tallulah there as motivation to stay clean. He never said the words to me, but I know my cousin. I know what good looks like, and I saw that goodness slip away from him every time he came to visit. Now, his eyes no longer light up unless he’s talking cars or bikes.
I stop at the door of what is to be my bedroom for the next few months. The fresh paint smell still lingers, but I don’t care. To me, it smells like freedom. The fact that this bedroom remained pink for the last three years isn’t lost on me. Jared has arranged the room exactly as I asked. A king-sized bed faces the window. A desk is set up in the corner with a brand new computer on top of it. There is a single dresser on the wall by the closet. I run my hand along the dark blue comforter, letting the softness caress my fingertips. I may be a hardass, but my ass is ready to sleep on some softness.
I pull back the curtain and admire the view of the side yard. Not that there is much to look at other than an old tree, but it’s the fact I can admire the view outside. After I have my fill, I let the curtain fall back down, and I turn on the computer. I have a plan. I have been formulating this plan for a while. It took me the first couple of years in prison to establish my place among the other inmates. Had I been a lesser man without a fire burning deep inside for retribution, I would have been swallowed up and tossed aside. More than likely I’d be dead. With the help of some of Jared’s biker friends, I worked my ass off both physically and mentally, becoming one of the most respected of all the prisoners.
Physically, I am no longer the skinny kid who needs a gun to ward off evil doers, but a massively built man who can kill with my bare hands. Mentally, instead of following the words of men who are supposed to have their shit figured out, I am in charge of my own thoughts. My own destiny. I studied. Then, I studied some more. Never again will I allow someone else to tell me what to think or believe. I am my own man, and those who made me the way I am now? Let’s just say they are going to be in for a big surprise when they meet the new me.
Chapter 3
Cass
I shut the computer off about four in the morning. Auto mechanics isn’t the only thing I learned on the inside. I figured out how to stay alive without having to suck too many dicks in the beginning. I learned how to fight. How to kill. How to hack a fucking computer. My cellmate, Damian Porter, was the smartest fucker I’ve ever met in my thirty-five years. He didn’t have to be looking at a computer to tell me the ins and outs. He wrote all that shit down on paper and gave it to me. Since he didn’t want the guards to know what he was teaching me, Damian wrote the code in code. That made it harder to learn, but learn it I did. Hacking 101. Since the man was doing time for breaking into government systems, he wasn’t allowed around a computer. Didn’t stop him from getting access.
It’s scary how much information is floating around the web. Personal shit most people probably don’t know is out there. You just have to know where to look, and having been cellmates with one of the best hackers Texas has ever seen, I have learned where to look. I close the notebook and place the pencil on top of it.
I need to get a couple hours sleep before Jared will be ready to hit the road. I
toss back a couple of aspirin after I brush my teeth. Hopefully that will stave off any after effects from all the alcohol I drank. Considering how late it is and I don’t have a headache now, I should be good to go. I lie down under the covers and enjoy the softness surrounding me. Fuck, but it’s good to be in a regular bed. Closing my eyes, I think about nothing other than freedom.
When I wake up, I hit the shower. It is the best fucking shower I can remember taking. I’m alone with all the hot water the fifty-gallon tank holds. I don’t have to worry about how much soap or shampoo I use or how long I stand there letting the water cascade down my back. I allow my thoughts to drift back to the days before prison. To my perfect fucking life. Thoughts of the life I lost kept me going every day. Those and thoughts of what I was going to do as soon as I was released.
The prison counselor tried to get me to let go of my anger and forget about the past. I learned to give the responses he wanted to hear. I said the words needed to make him believe I was a repentant reform. I taught myself to appear calm on the outside while deep inside I was seething. Let go of my anger? Fuck that shit. My anger was the one thing that kept me going day in and day out. I held on to the bitterness as tightly as a boa constrictor wraps itself around its prey. I used that anger to forge myself into a man with a purpose. A different purpose. Forget about the past? Not gonna happen. Not until the motherfuckers who ruined my life pay.
With a towel wrapped around my waist, I return to my bedroom expecting to put on the clothes I’d worn the day before. There on the end of the bed is a clean pair of jeans, T-shirt, and socks. I guess Jared drew the line at letting me borrow his underwear. I pull the clothes on, going commando, and shove my feet into my boots. I finger-comb my long hair and go in search of my cousin. Coffee is made, so I pour myself a cup before heading out back. Music sounds from inside the garage, alerting me to my cousin’s whereabouts. Zeus lies outside the garage, guarding his domain. I give him a good rubbing before entering the building. Jared is kneeling beside an old Harley chopper, adjusting something with a wrench. I’ve never worked on bikes, only cars. I wouldn’t mind learning about motorcycles since I plan on buying one of my own as soon as I get a little more cash put back.
