Not satisfied with the amount of time we had together, alone in the house, we’d meet up in secret; places we were certain no one would come. Unlikely places like museums, and art galleries, and yes, we did find somewhere in those buildings to make love. Our favourite meeting place was on the train. We’d find an empty cabin, and once the conductor had checked our tickets, we’d get down to it. On one occasion, I was just coming out of a cabin to get us both a drink when I literally bumped into Beth. I blocked her way and somehow managed to persuade her to get a coffee with me. I don’t know if she suspected anything, but I was sure acting strangely. Nevertheless, she never mentioned a thing. Dylan got off at the next stop, unnoticed thank God, and I continued my journey and ended up spending the day shopping with Beth. We were lucky and used caution from then on. If Marcus found out about the two of us, he would probably kill us both. I was scared of Marcus’s temper, which seemed to be getting worse. I was the perfect girlfriend; there was no reason for him to be angry because of me.
It was a peculiar situation. Nonetheless, the three of us lived happily together, in a strange sort of way.
I was on my lunch break and out shopping the first time I saw the Wolves. I had heard their name in conversation, but to see them in the flesh worried me. The Wolves reminded me of how the Tyrants had once looked. They were fit, young, mean looking, and completely out of our league. They knew who I was. The guy I assumed was the president, acknowledged me with a nod of his head. We still had respect around the town, but for how much longer? The Wolves would eventually want to be number one and seek us out.
As the rules of the street stated, if we wanted to keep our position and standing, we would have to fight them and win. That was until another gang wanted to challenge our leadership. Dylan and I talked about the confrontation, which was to happen sooner than we expected. Did the Tyrants still want to be number one? Did Marcus want to fight the Wolves, and more importantly, could we win? I doubted that Marcus knew the threat the Wolves possessed. He never talked about the possible demise of the Tyrants. We were still a gang. The problem wasn’t that we were going soft; the problem was that we were getting older.
We weren’t the young kids we once were, causing trouble, fighting anyone and everyone. Being against the world, nothing else mattered aside from the Tyrants. We ruled the streets then. Things had changed. We still met up as a gang, only we didn’t do it very often, and when we did get together we wouldn’t hang out at the subway, or on the streets. We’d grown up. We were adults now, with responsibilities. There hadn’t been any fighting for months. Things were quiet, and I think most of us preferred it that way.
We would have two choices: One, keep our name and respect by taking up the coming challenge, or two, disband the Tyrants, which wasn’t as easy as it sounded. The problem was if word got out that the Tyrants had broken up, then the enemies we had made along the way would almost certainly come looking for us, and then we’d have to leave town. I couldn’t think about leaving the place where my life had begun, where I met my real family, and finally found my true love, Dylan. I also couldn’t see Marcus turning his back on his friends and the place where they had grown up. Dylan told me that if the Tyrants had to disband, we would pack up and leave together. So, I took every day as it came, knowing it could end at any time. The decision was, of course, left to Marcus. Little did he know he was going to have to make it sooner rather than later. Life was about to change in a big way, and no one expected it.
I can only guess how, and who started the fight. I was in the Spider’s Web, drinking with the guys; Marcus had gone out to buy some cigarettes. An argument broke out between Dylan and a younger biker. I still don’t know what started it (perhaps it was over a woman). Dylan was a flirt, and women were always eyeing him up. It didn’t bother me; I knew he only had eyes for me. Anyhow, as always, Dale told them to take it outside. So, we all piled out into the cold, dark car park.
It had been a long time since anyone had been involved in a fight. The gang seemed eager for action. I wished Marcus had turned up and put a stop to it, or at least been there to watch over Dylan. I had a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. The other biker was stronger, fitter, younger than Dylan, and seemed really pissed off about something. My gut told me that it didn’t have anything to do with a woman and that the biker had probably provoked the argument. He meant business.
Dylan deemed himself unfit to fight. He knew he wasn’t any competition and tried to talk the boy down. He wanted to walk away from the fight with his dignity, but this kid was having none of it.
“Where you going, grandad?” The biker taunted. “Haven’t got it anymore have you. Your time’s come. It’s over for you. The Tyrants are finished.”
I gasped at the sheer nerve of the boy. Did he know he was treading on dangerous ground? Did he care?
The boy had a couple of mates with him. I regarded them closely. They sniggered at us. They looked tough, and you could feel the hostility. They were ready to take the lot of us on. My apprehension grew, as did my recollection. I knew who they were. They were members of the Wolves.
Where was Marcus? I was frightened for Dylan. He was going to have to fight the biker and was in no fit shape. Dylan turned and looked at me; I could tell he was worried. However, his face held a determined look.
“Walk away,” I urged him.
I’d have got down on my hands and knees if it would make a difference.
He shook his head sadly, and then flashed me a sexy smile, my body warmed from the heat of it. Next thing I knew, he’d run at the other boy and knocked him to the ground. The fight had started.
Dylan nose was busted and bleeding. When I saw the blood my stomach dropped. I knew something terrible was going to happen. The rest of the Tyrants stood on the sidelines shouting support. They didn’t seem to sense the tension. Dylan managed to hit his assailant a couple of times, but the boy didn’t even react to his punches. It was if he was immune to Dylan’s fists.
“It’s time you retired, Marcus,” the biker spat.
Then to my horror, the boy pulled a knife.
Dylan’s turned to face me, his mouth open in surprise. He looked at the Wolf then back at me. Then he rose to his full height, filled with a stubborn determination.
For the honour, and for the love of his brother, he wasn’t going to set the record straight. He shook his head slightly. We realised then that it had been a setup.
The boy showed his skill with the knife as he threw it from one hand to the other.
“Come and get it, granddad, if you think you’re tough enough,” he taunted.
I heard the Tyrants curse aloud, but why weren’t they stopping this? Why didn’t they jump in and protect Dylan as they should have?
In spite of it all, my Dylan was no chicken, and he still had something to prove. He took up the challenge and ran at the boy, meaning to knock him to the floor. The boy anticipated Dylan’s move and stabbed the knife deep into his chest.
“No!” I screamed.
Dylan fell to the floor.
The Wolf stared at Dylan, and at the fallen knife. He seemed stunned at what he had done. The other Wolves pulled him away, and then they ran off down the street with the Tyrants chasing after them.
Paralysed, I couldn’t move. I stared down at Dylan, not believing what had just happened.
“Jade,” he called in desperation.
I shook myself out of the trance and ran over to where he was lying. He was shaking and going into shock. I placed his head on my lap and stroked his face.
“Dylan, look at me,” I urged.
He couldn’t focus. I turned his head and looked into his eyes.
“Jade, is that you?” he whispered.
“Yeah, it’s me, Dylan. Hold on, helps on the way.”
I looked down to where he was stabbed. His shirt was soaked with blood. I pressed the palm of my hand on his wound to try and stop the flow. I couldn’t help it, tears started down my face. I couldn’t lose him.
Dylan’s eyes closed.
“Oh, Jesus, Dylan, stay with me,” I begged.
I shook him until he opened his eyes. They held a glazed look. He was staring, but not seeing me.
“Promise me,” he whispered, “promise me you’ll stay with Marcus, he does love you.”
I cried so hard.
“Get him away from here, Jade. Get him out of the Tyrants before it’s too late for him.”
His face screwed up with agony. Grabbing my jacket, he pulled me closer. “Promise me,” he urged. “Promise me you’ll look after him. Get him away from here before it’s too late.”
“Don’t talk like this,” I cried. “You’re gonna be okay, you’re gonna get better, and we’re gonna leave. I don’t want to be with Marcus, I want to be with you. Don’t die on me, you son of a bitch. I can’t go on without you.”
His face deathly pale, he smiled at me. “Yes, Jade. You’ll go on because you’re a strong person and you’ll find happiness. Look after him for me... I love you, and I always have. I think you know that.”
I could barely hear him. “I love you too. Now stop talking like that, you’re gonna be fine.”
“You should have been my lady. I would have looked after you. I would never have hurt you.”
“Hush,” I told him, kissing his lips.
His eyes closed.
“Dylan, wake up, babe. Open your eyes. Don’t do this,” I begged. “Dylan. No, God, please.”
He never opened his eyes again.
I wish I’d had the chance to tell him about the baby. The doctor gave me the results that afternoon, and I’d planned to tell him that evening. I knew Dylan well enough to imagine his reaction. The news would have made him happy; it would have made everything perfect, given us the excuse we needed to take that first step. I wished I had told him he was the father of my child; at least he would have died happy. Although I wasn’t certain at first, who the father was. But now you only have to look at John to know. It’s funny because Marcus has never mentioned the resemblance.
I still had Dylan’s head on my lap when Marcus turned up. I was in shock and bawling. I was howling loudly, wanting the world to hear my grief. Marcus took one look at my face and then fell to the floor on his knees.
“Oh no. Not Dylan,” he sobbed.
The ambulance arrived, but it was too late. Marcus sat on his knees, rocking and crying. The medics took Dylan from me and began to examine him. It wasn’t until they shrouded Dylan’s face with a blanket that Marcus reacted. Standing up, he ran over to the body.
“Dylan,” he screamed.
Witnessing his grief was unbearable. I felt sick. I wanted to die with Dylan. I held Marcus back. He didn’t have the energy to struggle with me.
“He’s gone,” I told him, unable to believe the words.
He collapsed in my arms. Drained of energy, we both crumbled to the floor. I held him tightly, rocking him. I told him everything was going to be fine and that Dylan was in a good place. I was devastated. It wasn’t fair. I was there for Marcus. Who was there for me? No one knew the pain I was going through. I didn’t have a shoulder to cry on. I couldn’t show my true grief and what made things worse. I had to be strong for Marcus. I sensed I was close to cracking. I needed to take control of the situation and accept what had happened, only I’d rather crawl into a hole, sleep, and never wake up.
The other members of the Tyrants returned from their chase and knew straight away what had gone down. Painful crying and tears followed. No one could believe Dylan had been murdered, that he was dead. I think what upset them the most, was the fact that they didn’t have a chance to say goodbye. Thank God, they didn’t try to talk to me. I don’t think I could have said a word. Clay bent down on his knee and held Marcus and me in a tight, silent embrace. One by one, the Tyrants got down on their knees around us, holding onto one another in a big circle. Their heads bowed in respect. The only noise was Marcus’s quiet sobbing. We stayed in our huddle until Clay heard a distant siren.
“It’s the cops,” Clay whispered, “we’d better leave.”
We stood up, and as I turned around, I noticed a large audience had gathered to observe our private moment. Man! Was I angry. That we couldn’t grieve in peace? I stood up and left Dale to look after Marcus. The rage flowing through me was unbearable. I needed to hit out at someone, or something. I needed to vent my anger.
“What the fuck are you looking at?” I screamed at the crowd, “go on, fuck off.”
No one listened to me, which made me furious.
I took my knife from my back pocket, pressed the button and watched the blade spring out. I held it out in front of me and ran towards the crowd. Women screamed, and the men jumped back, but they wouldn’t leave, no matter how many times I screamed at them. I think I would have used the knife if Clay hadn’t grabbed my arm and pried it from my hand.
“Cool it, Jade,” He was forceful, but spoke gently. “Come on, let me take you and Marcus home.”
He put his arm around me. I shrugged him off. “Stay the fuck away from me,” I yelled.
I started screaming and swearing at everyone. Most of the Tyrants had run off after the police turned up. Marcus was sitting on the ground, his crying had ceased, and he stared blankly at the pool of blood. I was still going wild and screaming. The police started to surround me. Clay held up his hand and told them to back off. He stood in front of me holding his hands out in a friendly, innocent gesture.
“Jade, it’s okay, babe. Calm down, honey. Christ, girl, you’re scaring me. The police are here, so it’s best you calm down, all right.”
I stopped shouting and moving around like a mad woman. I stood still, with my head bent solemnly to the floor.
“She’s okay,” I heard Clay call to the cops. “Just give me a minute.”
I felt Clay’s arm around me. I squeezed him, afraid to let go. I knew I’d lost it. I felt drained and dazed.
Police moved the spectators away from the crime scene, and others went over to question Marcus and Dale, who were the other Tyrant left.
“It’s okay, Jade, I know what you’re going through,” Clay said.
If only he did, I thought.
He was still holding on to me, but he loosened his grip and made me look him straight into his eyes.
“Believe me; I do know what you’re feeling.”
I nodded in sympathy and tried to rest my head on his chest. He forced me to look at him once more.
“I know how much Dylan meant to you.”
“He meant a lot to all of us,” I replied.
Clay still wouldn’t let me move.
“No, Jade, I know how much he meant to you.”
His statement left me with goose bumps. I gazed at him questionably. “What do you mean?”
“I knew about you and Dylan.”
He stopped talking, giving me a moment to let it sink in. Relief washed over me. I wasn’t worried about Marcus finding out. I couldn’t have cared less.
I didn’t think Clay would say anything, and we were too far away for anyone to overhear the conversation. I took a deep breath. The secret was finally out, someone else knew. Tears flowed down my face. I wanted to be honest with Clay, I didn’t want him to think I slept around and was using either of them.
“I loved him, Clay, please believe me. I loved him so damn much,” I cried.
“I know, Jade, he told me.”
I was stunned, yet happy that Dylan had someone to confide in.
“He also told me how much he loved you. I knew about your plans. I’m so sorry. I just want you to know I’m here for you if you ever need a friend. I understand what you’re going through.”
He kissed me on the forehead and gave me a tight hug.
I thought about telling him about the baby. He could certainly keep a secret, and I needed to tell someone, only a little voice told me not to say anything for the time being. I wasn’t certain if it was Dylan’s baby anyhow, and by keeping it to myself, there’d be
no way Marcus would ever find out the truth. While wrapped in Clay’s arms, I made up my mind, for the sake of the baby and of course myself, I was going to stay with Marcus. The baby needed a father, and I needed stability.
I allowed the police to escort me to their car. I went quietly. Marcus was still suffering from shock, not saying a word throughout the journey to the station. He silently stared out of the window. It cut me up to see him so out of it. I didn’t know what to say to make him feel better.
There wasn’t a lot Marcus could tell the cops, even if he’d wanted to. He wasn’t there. He didn’t know anything. I, on the other hand, saw everything. If it had happened a few years ago, I wouldn’t have gone to the station to answer their questions. We would have taken matters into our own hands and dealt with the Wolves ourselves, but things had changed. Revenge didn’t seem the only answer. I played dumb at first, not answering any of their questions. The sergeant knew how we operated and warned me not to try to get justice and to let the police handle the matter. I felt defeated; I didn’t have any fight left in me. I made the sergeant promise that he would find the boy who killed Dylan. It was time to stop playing games and deal with the real world. I wasn’t sure if justice would prevail, but no matter, I was going to give them as much help as I could. I told them everything that had happened.
Fortunately, the cops apprehended the biker who killed Dylan, thanks to my testimony and evidence.
During the trial, Marcus officially disbanded the Tyrants. I know it was a hard thing for him to do. It was no good passing the leadership on to someone else; it had become too dangerous. I think the guys expected that the time had come; they didn’t seem very surprised when Marcus announced his decision. The guys had been through so much together, and suddenly it was over. It was doubtful any of them would meet up again. It was the end of an era, too much to take in.
The night we met for the last time, it was supposed to be a celebration of Dylan and the memories belonging to the Tyrants. I had thoughts of us all getting drunk and reminiscing about the good old days, only it didn’t go as planned as everyone arrived in a sombre mood. No one felt like laughing. There was little talk about Dylan’s past antics. It dampened the miserable atmosphere further. The guys were in the house for a full thirty minutes, most of which was spent in silence, with just a clink and the spray of a beer can opening to cut the quiet. I couldn’t wait for them to leave; morale was at an all-time low. It was depressing. I was going to miss having them in my life. I couldn’t imagine what one day of not seeing Joe, Hatch, Steve, Mic, and the rest of the boys would feel like. On the other hand, they stood by and allowed Dylan to get stabbed. Then they made a run for it as soon as the cops were mentioned. I never openly voiced my accusations. Yes, the Wolves murdered Dylan, but the Tyrants, his brothers, stood back and let it happen, and they weren’t around when Marcus and I needed them the most. That’s not how family is supposed to behave. I was glad when they made their excuses to leave. There would be no asking them to stay longer like I used to. I wanted them out of my house and out of my life.
In Times of Violence Page 14
