by Jaci J
Dad and I were the only people inside the club, which wasn't uncommon during the day. He found me at the bar going through the alcohol stock orders. I knew the moment he sat down on the stool next to me that something was wrong. His eyes were haunted and he looked tired and worn out. Not only that, he looked grim and defeated. I’d been having a bad feeling for a while now, but when I saw him, I knew something wasn't right.
He told me he waited until everyone was out ‘cause he didn't want any of the guys to hear or see. He told me he was tired of running, tired of hiding. Said he missed mom so much that life just wasn’t worth fighting for without her here. Since she died, I was all he had left and he knew I didn't need him like I used to. He said Tank would take care of me, the family, and the club. I couldn't say anything, so I just sat there and listened.
I was watching my hard as nails, tough guy dad give up. He'd said he’d gotten everything in order, that everything was handled, and that I would be okay. He'd left money in the safe at home for me. He put the houses, businesses, bikes and cars in my name. Said I could do with them what I wanted, but he hoped I'd keep them alive and thriving. I watched his eyes water as he tried to hold it in. My heart broke for my dad. I waited for him to just say the words because part of me wanted to hear them, but the other part was terrified. I watched as he got off the stool to hug me, something he rarely did.
“I love you, doll face. Always will. Hold this place down for your old man, yeah?” All I could do was stare at him, a bit in shock. I couldn’t speak so in return, I could only nod.
With a hard knock on the door, I watched him open it up to Officer Brad Willis and Sheriff Anderson. That’s when it hit me and everything that he said started to sink in. I knew what he was doing.
“Mr. Cruz, please come with us. You're under arrest for the murders of Tom Harris, Mike Sawyer, Ronald Miller, and Joshua Keller.”
I watched my dad put his hands behind his back willingly. That fight he always had in him was nowhere to be found. I knew he didn't kill Josh, because I did, and as soon as I opened my mouth to say as much and put a stop to this, he gave me a look that effectively shut me up. Instead I listened as they read him his rights and cuffed him. I was speechless and heartbroken, and I’d just lost him too. Both Officer Willis and Sheriff Anderson gave me a sad nod before ushering my dad through the door in handcuffs.
“I love you too, Daddy.”
With one final look, he smiled at me and said, “Hold it down around here for me baby. Keep those boys in check.”
Currently Dad is awaiting trial on four counts of murder in the first degree and a handful of other charges. Extortion, money laundering, racketeering, possession of illegal firearms, the illegal distribution and sale of narcotics and firearms, the list goes on. He’s taking it all. He won’t give up his brothers so all that shit falls on him. He's facing life, plus two. It’s not looking good and it hasn't gotten easier, I've just learned to be numb to it. I never knew how much I needed him until he was gone. I never realized how much I leaned on him for his quiet moral support until he was no longer there. He was always on my side, just as mom was. Now it’s me and I need to find a way to be okay with that. I still have the rest of my family and together we’ll figure all this shit out. We’ll push through ‘cause there is no other choice.
Club life has slowly kept moving forward with Tank at the helm and my dad still running thing behind the scenes. I see him trying desperately to keep things normal for everyone. Even though Tank is a natural leader, I notice he doesn’t seem to want it. I watch him battle everything in his life right now. It breaks my fucking heart that I can’t help him, but he won’t let me, he won’t even acknowledge it. He’s not the same man I met all those months ago. There’s something missing in him now, and all I want is for him to come back to me. I need him to move on with me.
Loving Tank right now is a struggle. One minute his love is obsessive and needy, to the point of suffocating. The next, I have to search for it, beg him to give it to me. He doesn’t hate me. Deep down in his heart I know he loves me, but fuck, it’s so hard to remember that when he shuts me out. He doesn’t talk to me often, he hardly even looks at me. When he fucks me, it’s either with desperation or complete vengeance, like he’s trying to punish the both of us. If it’s not any of these things, he’s not around at all.
His constant need to push me away hurts worse than anything that happened to me that night or any other time in my life. It’s been months and things haven’t gotten better, if anything they’ve gotten worse. I’m thankful every fucking day for my life, for my time with my loved ones, and mostly for my time with Tank. But for Tank, he can’t seem to get past that night. I’m still here, and I plan to fight tooth and nail to bring him back to me. I will not lose him.
I’ve finally come to the conclusion that he’s the only one who can fix himself. There is nothing left that I can do. Instead of bitching, complaining, or whining about it, I just live my life. I stand by him and offer whatever he’ll take from me. I also remind myself to have patience. He saw something terrible and that will take time to get over. I go on with my days and act like everything is fine. All I can do is love him and I do that every goddamn minute of every day.
****
“Hey, bitch.” Peaches chirps and grins wildly at me as soon as I sit my ass down in her car.
“Why are you cheesin’ at me? You’re kinda freakin’ me out.” She looks like she’s up to somethin’, and if that’s the case, then trouble will follow soon after. She just laughs and throws the car in reverse as I stare at her. Pulling out of Tank’s driveway, she burns rubber like a nut and throws out a deuce when Tank glares at her from the front door.
“Peaches! What the fuck are you up to?” I implore, throwing an elbow into her side.
She laughs again and says, “Not a damn thing. Just excited to get a new car, girl.”
I’m not sure why she needs a new car in the first place. This one is pretty damn new, but that’s Peaches for ya.
“So, what kinda car do you want?” Her eyes light up at the question.
“Somethin’ pretty n’ shiny, fast n’ expensive.” Peaches says with her high wattage smile. Gin’s paying, she’s getting something expensive regardless of her need for it. But if you got it like that, hell, I can’t blame her.
“I’m down for somethin’ fast. I wanna test drive something new too.” I tell her. Her ass is not hogging up all the new car fun. Hell, I should get me a new car. Something pretty and sparkly might put that same smile on me that Peaches is wearing. I need some happy.
“Tank’s still bein’ a fuckin’ moron I take it?” She asks with a cautious sideways glance. Everyone tiptoes around the topic of Tank and I, but not Peaches. She cuts right to it. Just hearing his name hits a painfully raw spot in my heart. Shrugging it off, I stare out the window, hoping my lack of response stops her right here, but that would be too fucking easy, right? She doesn’t know how to leave things alone.
“Baby, he’ll come ‘round. If not, we’ll make his ass come back ‘round.”
I wish it was that easy. I’ve been trying, but not a damn thing I do seems to make a fuck of a difference to him.
“Not so sure about that, but I can keep hoping.” Is my only response.
Giving me a wicked smile, Peaches adds, “We’ll bring his ass back ‘round, one way or another baby girl.”
3
Hospitals
Tank
Sitting at the bar at the club, I hold my old friend Jack; he and I go way back. I’m sitting there takin’ shots when Rampage and Gin come grumbling into the room, bitching about somethin’ or other. I just don’t give a fuck enough to ask.
“Sick of your shit,” Gin says sitting down next to me. I guess I won’t have to ask.
“Yeah? Why the fuck should I care what you’re sick of?” Instantly I regret my words. Goddamn it. It isn’t his fault I’m losing my mind and my shit. On top of my fucked up shit with Lil, I’ve got club shit to deal
with too. I feel like I’m drowning in the middle of the ocean with no life vest and the coast guard is days out. I don’t want it all, but I’m too much of an asshole to let it all go. I used to want this shit, but now? I can barely stomach it.
“Get that you’ve had some fucked up shit happen, but fuck. You’re not the only one asshole. It happened to me too. You don’t see the rest of us bein’ a bunch of bitches ‘bout it. Been months man, now it’s time to move the fuck on. Tired of cleanin’ up your messes.”
“Wasn’t your girl’s blood you had to wash off your hands. Wasn’t your girl you had to watch die. Don’t wanna hear shit about how it affected you.” I’m so fucking tired of everyone not seeing this shit.
“She ain’t fuckin’ dead, you dumbass motherfucker, but you sure as fuck act like she is.” Gin shoves away from the bar and gives me a nasty glare. I know he’s sick of it. How the fuck does he think I feel?
“Don’t think I won’t put your ass on the ground. Remember, you’re the acting President, which won’t hold shit when Low finds out you’re fucking up club shit. Might want to check your shit before you come up in here actin’ like a bitch.”
Rampage shakes his head at me with nothin’ but disgust. So sick and fuckin’ tired of the looks, the whispers, and the drama.
“What?” I snap at Rampage, who’s also giving me the stare down.
“Damn, brother. You need to pull it together or you’re gonna lose everything. We’re all just sitting back watching your shit slip right through your fuckin’ fingers. It’ all on you.”
Fuck him. Fuck this whole goddamn place. Snatching up a bottle, I hit the office and sit down to drink all this shit into oblivion, alone. Then, I get the phone call …. Knew it was coming.
****
This place bothers the fuck out of me. Not gonna lie, it makes me nervous as fuck. A loud metal sound clicks when the heavy door is released to swing open. Then it’s the same loud click locking you inside the impenetrable walls of hell. Walking through the doors, you always have that brief, but ever present sense of dread and regret. You think “Holy fucking’ shit! I just walked through these doors and they may never let me out.” I never should have come, but here I am anyway.
We had to pull some serious strings to get me in here. Low insisted I come, and if he wouldn’t have pushed, I wouldn’t be here. It’s business as usual when I reach check in. I.D., metal detector, pat down, I.D. check again, the rule spiel, another metal detector, I.D. check, and then I’m finally seated at a small cubical thing with its bulletproof glass between us and hard plastic stool under my ass. As we were granted this visit, I still have my own personal bodyguard standing behind me. With his arms crossed over his chest, he thinks he looks like a bad ass. His badge is shined up all nice, catching the florescent lights. Fucking idiot. I could kill him with his own government issued gun if I was lookin’ for a fight.
Low shuffles his shackled feet toward me. His arms are securely cuffed behind his back. He looks rough and tired, in need of a shave and a good night’s sleep. With a serious head nod, he sits down and picks up the phone, as I pick up mine. I get no hey’s or how are you’s. This is serious business.
“Been hearin’ rumors deep in here brother.” Prisons are like fucking high school. News travels quickly from the outside to the inside. And inside, news makes the rounds even quicker.
“Yeah?” He needs to just get to the point.
“Yeah. Don’t like hearin’ them rumors in here when I left you out there to handle business.” He’s gonna drag this out? I don’t have the time or patience for riddles and talking in circles.
“You got issues, say ‘em. Didn’t come for games, Low.” He tilts his head to the side and gives the guard behind me a quick jerk of his head. The guy takes a few steps back and turns around. Even in here this motherfucker has pull.
“First off, lock down that line with Rick. He knows it’s gonna be a seventy/thirty split. Money before product. Don’t let him jump the gun with that shit either.” He may be in prison, but he’s still running the show. Fine, whatever. I’ll get shit handled.
“Now to the bigger issue.” Here is goes.
“Let you have her, brother. Even gave you my blessin’. You spittin’ on that blessin’?”
Not sure what he wants me to say to that shit. Does he want me to tell him that I love his daughter so goddamn much I would die without her? Does he want to know that when I look at her it makes me sick to my stomach? Does he want to hear me say I fuck her so hard sometimes I fucking hurt her in the process of trying to punish myself? Not that I would tell him that shit, but he’s not gonna let me say anything anyway.
“Heard you been shruggin’ your responsibilities off.”
What? Did Lil tattle to Daddy? Just as that thought crosses my mind, he gives me a look. He knows exactly what the fuck I’d just thought. He’s like a fucking mind reader.
“Get that thought out of your motherfuckin’ head. Ya know she doesn’t say shit, but she’s my fuckin’ baby and I can hear it when she talks, no matter how fucking fine she tries to sound. I know it’s you. Gin, Stitch, n’ Rampage let me know. Yeah they rat ‘cause they love her and she’s fucking miserable. They’ve also been taking up all the slack at the club ‘cause you’re ass is always so goddamn drunk. You’re letting your brothers down, and I will not hesitate to order a whip ass for ya to get you back in fuckin’ line.You got issues with that, take it up with them.” Fucking assholes. What’s that stupid saying? Bro’s before ho’s? I don’t need the daddy lectures or told how to run the fuckin’ club. I know what the fuck is going on.
“Listen, I’ll handle mine, don’t worry about it.” I answer.
He just shakes his head. “Don’t sound like you’re handlin’ shit.”
“You worry about gettin’ your charges dropped.”
Jumping out of his seat, the chair goes flying backwards and he gives me the stare down. His anger is flaring in his eyes, but there isn’t a goddamn thing he can do about it behind that glass. “Handle your motherfuckin’ responsibilities. Take care of your brother’s n’ your women. You take care of my goddamn daughter and my goddamn club, or I will take care of you. Feel me?”
****
“Wake your ass up!” The chair jerks away from the desk, making my head fall off my hands and land on the desk with a thud. Dammit. After that fun little visit with Low, I came in here and threw myself a little party.
“The fuck?” I grumble at the soon to be hurting asshole.
“Get the fuck up. Girls were in an accident.”
The word accident echoes around in the sudden silence as my heart stops. Rampage is standing over me looking pissed off and irritated. Pushing off the desk and chair, I get up, but not before knocking the bottle of Canadian Whiskey off the desk. The second I stand up, I start to sway on my feet. I lean on the desk to keep my ass upright.
“What a stupid, goddam fuckin’ asshole,” Rampage mutters before stomping through the door without a second look.
Stumbling into the main room, Gin is already at the door and ready to go. That hopeless panic and alcohol coursing through me makes it hard to function. I can barely see straight, let alone think straight.
“What the fuck happened?”
Tossing my phone at me, Gin growls, “If ya woulda answered your fuckin’ phone, you would know Peaches was t-boned while she was test drivin’.” His words leave a sickening hole in my gut.
“Fuck. Lil? Is she okay?” Shrugging his shoulders he pushes through the door, leaving me alone to process his words through the fog of alcohol.
The whole ride to the hospital I feel sick and crazy. I fight not to pull over and throw the fuck up. My mind is still hazy as shit from the Whiskey and I sure as fuck shouldn’t be driving like this, but Gin left my ass to worry about it. So here I am again, letting Lil down. I’m so fuckin’ selfish that I had a pity party for myself and passed out. I was so out of it that I didn’t hear the phone ring when she called and needed me.
/> The need to get to her has me running red lights, blowing stop signs, and cuttin’ people off. Pulling up to the hospital, I park in the loading zone, start heading in while I struggle to keep my shit in check. My heart is beating out of my chest while my hands shake uncontrollably. Walking in through the sliding glass doors, I give the honking and screaming bitch in the minivan the finger. Stupid ass bitch.
“I need to see my girl.” I tell some old bitch at the front desk. The waiting room is filled with hushed murmurs as people in the waiting room instantly look away from the drunk biker. They cautiously watch me from under their hats, through their lashes, or sideways glances. This shit is nothin’ new. It makes me fucking crazy, but I don’t got time for that shit now.
“What is her name please?”
The women at the registration desk just stares at her computer, completely oblivious to my near meltdown right here in front of her desk. I’m close to strangling this bitch if she doesn’t hurry.
“Lil.”
A few clicks on the computer and she tells me, “There’s no one here with that name sir.”
“The fuck there isn’t. Check again.” Raising her black, thickly rimmed eyes to me, she gives me a nasty once over while her fingers are tapping impatiently on her desk. This bitch doesn’t know she is one fuckin’ second away from me beating her motherfucking ass, woman be damned.
“Sir, I told you there is no one here with that name.”
“Look for Lilly Cruz,” Gin says calmly from beside me. Fuck. I can’t handle this shit.
Being in the hospital makes me queasy and jumpy. I hate the smell and the way everyone here looks somber and sad. This shit brings me right back to waiting for Lil to die on me that night. It brings me right back to desperately praying by her side, begging and pleading to have my baby be okay. Everything about this place sends me right back and reminds me of my failure. I fucking hate this place.
