“We’ll be back in the morning for the hearing. Trust me, jail ain’t so bad. It’ll fine-tune you, Edge, and that is exactly what the club needs.”
I stand as they knock to get out. The cop frowns at the obvious smoke residue but says nothing. He cuffs me again, and I start the walk of shame to get booked, not even caring if they throw me in the drunk tank. All I want is to close my eyes so that I can see her in my dreams. Tomorrow will come soon enough.
DOLLY
Seventeen years old
The door slams shut and I bolt up. My back is still sore. But it’s getting better with the medicine my mom has been putting on it.
“Daddy?” I grab one of Edge’s old sweatshirts and run to see what has happened.
“I don’t want her near the courtroom. Don’t make me repeat myself, Misty.”
I slow down and stop altogether to eavesdrop, wincing as my scabbed-up back hits the wall.
“But Shark, he saved her. She wants to see him.” My mom sounds somewhat sober, which is surprising. After what happened, she’s been pretty much nonstop medicating herself.
“Christ, do you want Edge to go away for years? Use your head. If Dolly shows up, he’s going to get irrational, and we can’t have that. This kid is a fucking warrior. He needs to be strong, not pining away like a pussy.” The sink turns on and I move closer placing a hand over my mouth as I try not to let my raspy breathing announce me.
Are they honestly thinking I’ll stay away? No fucking way.
“But… I feel so bad. I mean—”
“Babe. He’s going to jail. The rapist’s father has money. He’ll have to do time. You can’t possibly think he won’t. He needs to have anger, strength. Trust me, jail sucks. He needs to survive, not get raped in the showers.”
The sink turns off. “That… you can pay the guards, right?” My mom sounds upset. God, even my dad who never shows anything but love and rage sounds concerned.
Well, screw this. I have no intention of letting Edge go to jail. He’s my soul. As I step into the kitchen, both my parents turn and look at me. My mom is drying dishes, and my dad is standing with arms crossed, a bottle of tequila open next to him on the counter.
“Hey sweetheart.” Her fake, upbeat tone doesn’t fool me.
“I’m going to testify.” I don’t have time to act like I don’t know what’s going on. “There is no way they can lock up Edge and have someone rape him because…” I look at my mom whose eyes are huge, then my dad who looks like I’m insane, but I carry on. “No one is going to get raped.” I take a breath. “Troy. He’s the one who should get raped because he’s a rapist.”
There I said the R word a lot. All this morning, I had to spend two hours with a counselor telling me that it’s not my fault and not to be afraid to communicate and blah, blah, blah.
“Perfect, she’s crazy.” My dad picks up the bottle. I wrinkle my nose in disgust—this is one that has the worm in the bottom.
“I’m not.”
He eyes me like it’s the first time we’ve met.
“Whatever. You can’t stop me.” I lift my head and try to stare him down.
At last, he puts down the bottle and faces me. “You’re not doing anything but what I tell you. Do you understand me?”
I take a step back. My dad has never looked at me like this. His brown eyes look tired but dead serious. I open my mouth.
“Dolly. He’s being charged with attempted murder. He’s seventeen.” He lets that hang in the air.
“That is why I need to testify.” I go to him almost pleading. “Daddy, I love him. Don’t you even care what happened to me? Why would you let Edge go down for saving me?”
He takes another swig as my mom rubs my arm in a lame attempt at comfort.
“You have no idea what’s at stake. We don’t involve the police in our business. Ideally Edge should have killed the piece of shit then ran. That’s the code. Don’t Get Caught.”
I blink at him and look at my mom who is back to drying the same stupid plate.
“Are you criticizing him? Like…” I rub my forehead looking around our small kitchen. “Like are you trying to say that he did something wrong by saving me?” My voice rises.
Still holding the bottle, he walks past me and sits in his leather La-Z-Boy. I look at mom, but she stares at that same plate.
“What is happening?” I throw my hands up and march into the living room. “Dad?”
He flips on the TV with the remote. “Dolly, I’ve had maybe four hours of sleep in the last two days. You will not testify or talk to the police or Edge. He will serve his time. If you want him to live, you’ll listen to me.”
I kind of drop onto the couch not even caring that my back feels like it’s bleeding from all the movement.
“I can’t not see him. He needs me.” It comes out in a jumbled rush. My mind is spinning and I don’t feel good. “Wait… are you saying that me seeing him could get him hurt?” It sounds so foreign, almost surreal.
“Jesus Christ, are you stupid? That’s exactly what I’m saying,” he sneers, and my eyes sting at his horrible words.
“Fucking Edge needs to survive, stay on his toes. He’s got to be mean.” His eyes remain glued to the TV and his voice sounds as if he’s talking about the weather.
I prepare to stand, and only then do his eyes break from the TV. “When he comes out… if you still want him, I’ll allow it.” Then he turns back to the news.
I nod even though he’s not looking. “So, you’re going to let him go to jail? You can’t help him?”
I don’t even know why I’m asking this. I know the answer. They’d rather he take the heat as a minor than bring any trouble, police interest to the club.
“We have people who will protect him.” He turns up the volume and I guess that’s my cue to leave. Numb, I drag myself to my bedroom. I don’t bother turning on the light and lower myself onto the bed and close my eyes.
“Baby?” Hmm cinnamon and smoke fill my nose as I stretch and reach for him.
“I love you.” He smiles and, in the light, I can see the tiny number of old freckles on his face; they’re disappearing with age. His skin is tan, and his turquoise eyes are filled with love.
“I love you,” I say again. He frowns, and I sit up but his tan hand reaches for my throat.
“No,” I try to yell, but nothing comes out. When I blink, the beautiful auburn hair is gone, vanished, and the face above me is… it can’t be… “No,” I scream, but the rapist applies more pressure as I scratch and scream again for him. Only Edge can save me. Where did he go?
I open my mouth to scream again—
“Dolly. Wake up!” I bolt up, my heart racing, my throat sore as I claw at it trying to remove his hand.
“Dolly, it’s us. Stop.” My dad stands in my bedroom, a knife in his hand. My mom is on the bed shaking me.
“Mom?” I turn and look around my room.
“It was a dream, sweetheart.” My mom, who never looks concerned, is biting her lip as she pulls the sweaty strands of my hair off my forehead.
“Jesus Christ, I thought someone was in here.” My dad lets out a breath, then bellows, “What the hell is wrong with you? Look at your neck.”
I look down at my hands. They’re covered in blood.
“Oh my God, Shark, what do we do?”
My dad grabs my chin, forcing me to look up as he examines my neck. I’m starting to feel the pain now.
“Take her to get more therapy.” He looks at me and I look at him, and if I wasn’t still panting, my eyes watering a little, I swear I’d see fear, pity, maybe even rage in his face.
“Just take a breath. We’ll take you back to the doctor tomorrow.” My mom pats my hand. “How about we get you in the shower?” She sounds like she’s talking to someone who can’t understand English. It’s slow and loud.
I close my eyes, sink back into my pillow, and try to let my heart calm. My pillow is drenched along with the T-shirt I was sleeping in.
&nb
sp; “Come on, Dolores.” My eyes pop open. I try to speak but much like my dream, nothing comes out. I take her hand and let her lead me into the bathroom. It’s then that I look at myself in the mirror.
“Holy shit,” I whisper. My face is pale and the scratch marks are bleeding, blending in with the angry bruises he left.
“Here, I started the shower for you.” My mom still sounds like she’s talking to a toddler.
I rip off my shirt and step into the hot shower, my mind spinning. Never in my life do I remember my mom caring for me this way.
I took care of her and myself. Edge took care of me. “So real,” I say out loud.
“You okay?” my mom calls.
I almost tell her the truth. That I’m terrified that I might be having some real problems. That I’m 100 percent sure I need Edge. Instead, I wash and don’t linger. I put Neosporin on my neck, which looks like a lion got a hold of me. And I walk past my mom and go back to bed.
I need to get up early tomorrow. Edge needs me to testify.
Edge and Dolly: you can’t have one without the other.
“Should I be worried?” My mom stands in the doorway to my room. Her question is so absurd I have to bite my lip not to start laughing. And I do what I have done my whole life—I lie to her.
“I’m fine. Don’t worry about anything.”
She hesitates, the hallway light making her thin form seem smaller in my dad’s large T-shirt. Nodding, she says, “Of course you are. See you in the morning. Sleep as late as you need.”
“Mm-hm.” I toss my wet pillow from earlier to the other side of my bed, grab the other one, and close my eyes.
EDGE
Eighteen years old
I spent my eighteenth birthday in jail. Not that I cared. Jail sucks, but I’ve learned a lot of shit in here. As an added bonus, the connections I’ve made are benefiting the club.
My days consist of running all the shit for the club in here. By running, I mean I have Jason’s drug coming into the jail and money going into the right hands outside.
“Hey brother, you ready to saturate yourself in pussy? Fuck, man, you’re getting out tomorrow. Less than twelve hours.” Marco, my cellmate, says all this as he continues with his sit-ups. “I’m so ready to get laid my dick is hard thinking of all the snatch you gonna be getting.”
I snort as I look around our cell. Marco is part of the Hispanic gang in the Eagle Rock area. His uncle is one of the main guys in the Mexican Mafia.
I got Chuckie involved with him and his organization. We have the supply and they have the money. It’s working out well as long as Chuckie can keep his dick in pants. Seems there was a run-in with Marco’s female cousin and Chuckie’s dick. It could have been bad, but Jason stepped in. I haven’t heard the details, but it’s all been overlooked.
Money is flowing on both sides so that helps.
He sits up resting his arms on his knees. “I should be out in six months, man. You think you’ll be patched in? I’d like to think about getting the Disciples blend in some of our underground clubs,” he says, wiping the sweat from his brow. It’s almost time for lights out. Marco always does his biggest workout right before bed, saying he has no one to impress with his smell and he sleeps better when he’s exhausted.
“Yeah, man let’s make it happen. I’m hoping to be patched in soon.” And by soon, I mean soon. I’ve done my duty and then some. The club has become a part of me that I can never turn away from.
I’m fucking great at what I do and now that Jason and Axel have been patched in and Chuckie has taken over as Prez, yeah, I think I should be a full Disciple as soon as I get out.
“God damn you piss me off, brother. No matter how many push-ups I do, I can’t get that fucking eight-pack.” He nods at my abs.
“Diet, brother.” I smirk. “You eat all that shit in here. I stick to protein and veggies.”
He’s not lying. I’ve transformed my lean build into a seriously hard, muscled body. I lift every day and shoot hoops when I want a break. I’ve never been more structured; I mean, what else is there to do?
It’s amazing when you have one thing to focus on: how fast you can transform yourself.
I did manage to graduate while I was in here thanks to Mr. Richardson. He’s someone I will be forever grateful to. He came every Saturday to tutor me.
If I had gone to juvie, I would have been required to go to school, but I got charged as an adult and was sentenced to county. I assumed I was done with school that day.
Mr. Richardson decided that I was not. He showed up and I graduated early.
I toss a box of Marlboro Reds at Marco. It bounces off his chest.
“What the fuck, man? Little heads-up.” He looks at the box with a huge smile.
“Going away present,” I say, looking around at the small amount of stuff I’ll take with me in the morning. There’s not much: some letters from some club bunnies and a few from David.
None from her.
I wrote her in the beginning but stopped after I got nothing back. No letters, no visitation, nothing.
It’s like she never existed.
I went to jail for her. I let her fuck me over. I believed that she was mine.
I was wrong.
Fuck, I was wrong about so many things. I thought I had seen shit in the club. Try jail—there’s no way I can even explain it.
Eighteen months was my sentence. I’m getting out in fourteen on good behavior. I lie down on my shithole of a bed and relish in the thought that this is my last night in this cement box of hell. Crossing my hands behind my head, I let my mind wander to places better left zipped up.
This is what happens in jail. It changes you. Things that were important, such as luxuries, are a goddamn gift that I’ll never take for granted again.
I’ll also never come back. Once was enough. Closing my eyes, I wonder what it’s gonna be like out there.
Fourteen months is a long time to spend with the worst of the worst.
“Who’s picking you up, man?”
I open one eye and mumble, “Jason.”
“That one is badass,” he replies. “My uncle said he’s gonna be your Prez. You wait and see.”
“Nah, Jason doesn’t care about all that. Chuckie wants it. Jason’s too smart.”
“I heard everyone calls him Blade.” He nods at me like he’s got a big secret and lowers himself to do push-ups.
“Who said?”
“Everybody, man. Don’t you even know what’s going on in your own crew?”
“Club,” I grunt. Sitting up, I rub my hands up and down my face. I haven’t heard much lately. Axel’s been the one showing up with the money to bribe the guards, and the drugs always seem to be in the designated spot. So, no I haven’t heard dick about “Blade,” but I’m not telling Marco that.
“I’m tired,” I grumble, and he chuckles.
“Aww, Edge, I’m gonna miss you. You make sure when I come to you, you remember who saved your ass in here.” He laughs again as he continues his push-ups. “Literally.”
I look down at him and wonder if I ever will see him again. He’s in here for selling a huge amount of crack and cocaine. We both watched each other’s asses. Again, jail sucks. I’ve spilled more than my share of blood to keep myself from getting raped. It’s time to get the fuck out and never return.
If I learned one thing, it’s don’t ever get caught. Beautiful bourbon eyes, long brown hair, and red lips that smell like candy drift into my mind.
“You decide what you gonna do with your dad’s shit?” Marco jumps up and starts running in place.
Four months ago, he passed away. He put a bullet in his head. Didn’t matter—he was being eaten alive by cancer. It was the one unselfish thing he’s done for me my whole life. Surprisingly, the house was paid for and he left it and all his shit to me.
The house is a pit, but even a shithole goes for a lot of money in LA. I’ll get a realtor and sell it.
The one thing I might keep is his b
ike. Everything else, including his truck and car, need to go.
“Nah, I’ll figure it out as I go.”
“Well, at least you have somewhere to go when you get out.”
I almost laugh, but Marco doesn’t need to know that I’ll never stay there. Too many bad memories swirl their bad juju. I want nothing to do with it.
“I’ll probably stay with Jason and his mom.” Growing up, that’s where I stayed a lot anyway.
Without warning, the lights go to black. “Goddamn it,” Marco shouts, causing other inmates to tell him to shut up.
“Shut the fuck up, yourself!” He kicks our neighbors’ wall.
“I swear to God, lights are getting turned off earlier all the time.”
All I can do is grin. My eyes are already closed. Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.
I walked out a free man at nine eleven the next morning carrying nothing but my knife and old flip phone, which is dead.
My clothes are too small, but fuck if I care. With each step I take, everything smells cleaner. As they open the last gate, I look back and smile. New fucking day, new me. The old one died almost sixteen months ago. I’m reborn like a snake shedding its skin.
“Look at you! Fuck, man, we’re gonna have to get you a bigger vest.” Jason snickers and comes in for a bro hug.
Axel tosses his cigarette out and grins. “Come to papa.” He waves me over and I shake my head at how happy I am to see him and his 1965 Pontiac GTO.
He was working on getting parts before I went in. Obviously, he got it done.
“Fuck off,” I say, but I hug him anyway. Axel is like the brother I love to hate but can’t because he’s loyal to a fault. When push comes to shove, he’s got you.
“Why are both of you here?”
Axel motions with his hand to get in the back. “We wanted to have a little welcome home chat with our favorite prospect.”
“Christ,” I mumble as I duck low to get in the back, having to turn sideways to fit. Instantly my mind goes to Dolly. Goddamn it, if I could have some peace already: one day of not thinking of her, seeing her, wanting her.
Repent (The Disciples Book 3) Page 10
