It’s a twisted story with no true ending.
Or at least an ending that I can make sense of.
But Mama loves telling stories.
“He fucked us over,” she says.
Well, with Mama and her stories, she gets to the point.
“He was… let’s just say he thought he was going to do a better job than we were. And he wasn’t doing it for the sake of us. He was doing it for the sake of himself. Kind of like if I opened a bottle of soda and took an empty soda bottle and poured half into it. Fill the bottles the rest of the way with water. Put the caps back on. Sold it as two bottles of soda.”
“That’s not smart,” I say.
“No, it’s not,” Mama says. “And we always know the truth. Now, the meat grinder part of things. That’s an old story. Lyle used to scare everyone with it. That’s just crazy. What do you think happened? I killed Willy and put him into the meat grinder? And then what? Sent him to his family? Or did something crazy…”
And with that, Mama just stares.
It’s a freaky story.
Because…
“No,” Mama says. “He was let go. He was relieved of his duties. He no longer worked for us. He was no longer part of anything. And I know, everyone talks about punishment. They think we’re evil people. But sometimes the biggest punishment is the reflection in the mirror. Think about that. Because if you have the right story written, then you don’t need force. You break their mind.”
Mama looks around the table.
Then she curls her lip and goes from a sweet looking elderly woman to a vicious person.
“Or you just put them through the meat grinder…”
That’s how she always finishes the story.
Then she sits back down.
The entire table is silent.
Nobody’s sure what is or isn’t the truth.
That’s the fun of it.
But in reality, it’s supposed to scare you.
Fear is an amazing thing.
“Aric, you wash the dishes,” Mama says. “Mac, come for a walk.”
“What about the rest of us?” Les asks.
“You think about Willy,” Mama says. “And then maybe think about why my meatloaf tastes so good…”
Raf pats his stomach. “Uh…”
Mama snorts and laughs.
I stand up.
I need a cigarette.
Mama used to smoke but then she had a mild health scare and she quit.
But she’s always nice not to bust on us when we smoke.
In fact, I think she likes the smell of it.
But I know better than to ask about it.
I mind my own business as we walk to the garage.
She has her poker table set up as though people are coming over tonight.
In case you didn’t know, Mama loves to gamble.
She’s not allowed in any more casinos.
Again, don’t worry about why.
So she hosts her own poker games.
And this isn’t some old lady shit either. This isn’t a bunch of women coming to bet a few pennies or a couple of bucks.
She gets real gamblers into her garage.
Rich guys in suits.
Bikers looking for a fight.
And everything in between.
But I’m not in the garage to play poker.
My gambling is down to what I plan on doing to get Jolie’s full attention.
All I can think about is if she’s going to show up tomorrow and meet me at the beach.
“I have something for you,” Mama says.
“Birthday present?” I ask.
“You’re not a child,” she says. “You don’t need a present.”
“I was kidding. What do you need?”
“Money.”
“You need money?”
“I need to collect on some money,” she says. “I don’t feel like climbing through a window though.”
“So you want me to?”
“Is that a problem, Mac?”
“Not at all,” I say. “I love windows.”
“Someone decided to play hard with life,” she says. “Really hard. And then he decided to skip out on the bill. You don’t go to the restaurant and order the lobster then not pay for it, right?”
“Nope,” I say. “Do you want me to make sure he never does that again?”
“No, no, no,” Mama says. “You get the money. That’s point enough. He keeps a secret stash of cash in his top right drawer. Where all of his ties are organized. Don’t worry about these details. Just get the cash.”
“Anything else?” I ask.
“Leave a nice trail behind,” she says. “So he knows…”
“So he knows,” I say. “But he won’t call it in?”
“He knows if he does that, it’ll be much worse,” Mama says.
“Not a problem, Mama.”
“You’re so good to me, Mac. You’re the only one who gets it. I’m lucky to have you.”
“I’m the lucky one,” I say. “I had a good day today. Woke up next to someone very pretty. Handled my classes and all that bullshit. Did a favor for someone who needed it. Took down a slime bag piece of shit. And I met the woman I’m going to marry.”
Mama’s eye go wide. “What’s that now?”
I laugh. “Nothing. Forget I said that.”
I walk to the garage door and step outside for a breath of fresh air.
I finish my cigarette and know Mama will have all the information for me under the front seat of my SUV.
Fuck, she already had it there all along… knowing I wouldn’t say no to helping her with something.
That’s just what family does.
My birthday is basically over.
From the wild party the night before to the wild day today, I can’t complain.
The house is mostly quiet. Mostly dark.
I wander toward my room, stretching my neck, yawning.
It’s actually way too early to catch some sleep.
But there’s really nothing else to do.
Unless I decide to find Jolie.
Which has gone through my mind more than once.
I picture her in some cute little PJ set, probably reading a book or messing with her hair to make sure it was perfectly in place before going to sleep on expensive bedsheets.
I love that she was considered an upper.
Because for the most part, I was too.
You didn’t get into BC without a bad reputation and a big bank account.
Me going to the beaches and skate parks to handle business wasn’t a move of desperation. It was strategic placement of my product. Because I fucking loved the cash.
But now I fucking loved something else.
“Sweet Jolie,” I whisper.
I open the door to my room and let out a long sigh.
I look right and then left.
I hear a noise and I reach for my birthday present from the guys.
The bathroom door opens and someone steps out.
Long legs. Wet, black hair. Vixen eyes.
Wearing one of my towels.
“Finally,” she whispers.
“Are you my birthday present, sweetie?” I ask.
“It’s only your birthday for another hour, Mac.”
“Then I guess we don’t have much time.”
“Nope,” she says.
She turns around and drops the towel.
I have no fucking idea who she is.
But for tonight, she’ll do just fine…
Happy fucking Birthday.
6
I wake up the next morning and I’m alone in bed.
Which is good.
I’m not exactly in the mood for any chit-chat bullshit about life or whatever time it takes to get the fuck out of a situation.
I reach for my phone and shake my head that I’m not able to send Jolie a text message.
Good morning, sweetie. How are you? I can’t stop thinking about the way the breeze played with your
hair. Or your hips tick-tocking to the rhythm of the ocean waves. Or the look in your eyes when you realized I am the worst person possible to be with. Yet you couldn’t help yourself…
I put my phone down and get out of bed.
I shower to wash away everything from the night before.
Someone is coming to clean the house and my room.
So later on, it’ll be like brand new.
Funny how that works.
Just wash everything away.
Pretend like it’s new.
I head downstairs and find Les in the kitchen at the counter, hovering over a cup of coffee.
When he lifts his head, his eyes look ready to pop.
“You good?” I ask.
“Perfect,” he says.
“Don’t get sick.”
“I never get sick. I’m just waking up.”
“You look like you’re sick.”
“Far from it,” he says. “Aric threw up last night.”
“No shit.”
“Yeah,” Les says. “He was just partying alone.”
“That’s sad. Partying too hard alone and getting sick.”
Les smiles. He grabs his coffee and chugs it.
He clears his throat and suddenly looks back to life.
“I have to go back to the skate park today,” I say.
“Again? You just delivered there…”
“I know.”
“Something go wrong? You get a text or something? If Hanky is bothering you, I swear I’ll break his fucking hands.”
“No, no, it’s not Hanky,” I say. “It’s personal.”
“What could… oh.” Les swallows hard. “Oh.”
“Oh?” I ask. “Something you want to say?”
Les folds his arms. “Bro, do I need to say it?”
“I think you do,” I say.
Les nods. “You’re making a mistake. You know the risk going back there too soon. The next day? After what happened with Stimmy? I know Declan works with us, but going back… and for the reason you are…”
“What’s the reason, Les?” I ask.
“Reason for what?” Taz asks.
He enters the kitchen with his arm around some girl who looks like she hasn’t slept all that much. She’s in a spaghetti strap tank top that leaves her extra bouncy and nothing to the imagination. She’s wearing a pair of BC sweatpants that are obviously Taz sized. She looks like a giant mistake, but some mistakes are worth it.
Les looks at Taz. Then at his new friend.
“Get her the fuck out of here,” Les says.
“Go fuck yourself, man,” Taz says. “Show a little respect for Lau…”
Taz looks at the girl.
“Lydia,” she says.
“Lydia,” Taz says.
I turn and grab a mug off the counter.
I fling it through the air at Taz.
He catches it and I nod to the coffeemaker.
He pours Lydia a coffee.
When he whispers something into her ear, she blushes, then leaves the kitchen.
Of course we all stop what we’re doing to watch her walk away.
She glances back, playfully bites her lip, knowing she’s putting on a show for us.
And of course she loves it. She’s got the attention of BC.
She’s got my attention, but only in the physical sense. Nice hips and ass. Nice curves. You know, everything any decent guy would look at on a woman.
When she’s out of sight, Taz turns back around and smiles ear to ear.
“Good for you,” I say.
“Hey, you can’t imagine what she-”
“He’s going to look for that upper today,” Les cuts in as he points at me.
Talk about getting to the point.
“What?” Taz asks.
“You heard him,” I say. “I’m heading back to the skate park. Just to see.”
“Mac…,” Taz says.
All I have to do is stare.
Two seconds and Taz starts to nod.
He’s my extra muscle.
Les is more brains than heart.
I just do what I want.
Taz rubs his scruffy jaw. “At least let me get one more run at Laura…”
He snaps his fingers a few times.
“Lydia,” Les says.
“Fuck, right. Lydia. Why can’t I remember that name?”
“Because names don’t matter to you,” I say.
Taz laughs. “True.”
Taz gets coffee and as he leaves the kitchen, I whistle at him.
He looks back and nods. “I got your back, bro. Don’t worry.”
I move my eyes to Les.
“I think you’re a fucking idiot, Mac,” Les says.
I step toward him. “You realize you’re one of maybe three people in the entire world that can get away with saying that to me?”
“Yup,” Les says.
“But you’ll only say it when you really think I’m fucking up.”
“Yup,” Les says again.
“Yet you know I’m going up there and nothing is going to stop me.”
“Yup,” he says for a third time.
I punch his shoulder and smile.
Les doesn’t smile back.
Maybe he should go roll between the sheets with Laura-slash-Lydia.
I have to make a quick stop before taking off from BC to go find my girl.
Henderson hated me from the second he met me. I figure that’s because he heard about me. And he’s the kind of guy that thinks he can do so good for so many with his bullshit attitude. Kind of like he stepped out of a movie. Except he’s not going to get through to someone like me. We’re just going to battle each other until he loses.
And trust me, he will lose every single battle.
He’s sitting at a table with a coffee and a newspaper. Plus, he has his tablet next to him, propped up, so he could read another newspaper.
He’s that guy.
The one who reads more than one newspaper for the fuck of it.
He wears collared shirts with sweaters over them, so the collar pops out. He parts his hair. He wears glasses to look at screens but doesn’t need the glasses to see.
I can’t stand him.
I have my reasons though.
To you, they don’t matter, so don’t ask about them.
I smoke my cigarette and walk up to the table.
I put my foot up on the other side.
Henderson sighs as he lifts his gaze from his tablet.
He takes his glasses off and reaches for his coffee.
He takes the lid off, blows on the coffee, and sips it.
Then he puts the coffee down and grins.
“Cormac,” he says.
“Henderson,” I say.
“Did you come to sit and debate world politics with me?” he asks. “I sure could use a sparring partner for some trade discussions here. I’m watching the impact of tariffs and wondering…” He starts to laugh. “Who am I kidding? You’re lucky you can tie your shoes without help.”
I look down at my shoe on the table.
It’s tied just fine.
I just stare at him.
“You missed another discussion,” he says. “Really important information. You know, I keep telling myself I’m going to feel good watching you fail. But then… then to my surprise every time I try to tell the truth, it gets twisted.”
“It gets corrected,” I say.
“It’s bullshit.”
“Of course it is,” I say. I move my foot and put my hands to the table. “Just like you, Henderson. You’re bullshit. You couldn’t reach someone if you actually tried. So instead you cut their legs off to make yourself seem taller.”
“You know, all things considered, that might be the smartest thing you’ve ever said,” Henderson says.
“Perfect,” I say. “So now that you’re listening… I’ll just repeat it again. Leave me the fuck alone.”
“Are you going to threaten me?” Henderson asks.
“No need to threaten you,” I say. “Just look around. Realize who I am and who you are…”
I move my eyes around and Henderson’s face turns white.
He turns his head and each time he sees one of the guys, he gets more and more nervous.
Les, Taz, Raf, Aric, and Ado… all surrounding Henderson, but at a distance.
He looks at me again. “Do you feel good about yourself?”
I take one last deep drag off my cigarette and then drop it into his coffee.
The quick sizzle makes me smile.
“Now I do,” I whisper.
I swat my hand to his tablet and send it flying off the table.
I hope the fucking screen shatters.
That’s all the time I have for classes for the day.
I walk back to my house on campus and get my street ride so I can fly over to the warehouse to get my car.
Or at least one of my cars.
Les and Taz insist on following me.
I can’t complain about that.
But when I get my time with Jolie, they need to fuck off and stay that way.
I keep Raf, Aric, and Ado back at BC to handle anything the pops up.
They each have a bag with a shipment that needs to be distributed.
Starting on one side and going all the way to the other.
That’s the easy cash grab. It’s not exactly exciting since everyone knows who I am and what I do. That means everyone stays out of the way.
How about that… I sound like such a dick. Almost complaining about easy money.
Damn, maybe I am turning into a prick for real.
When I get to the skate park, it’s like the world stops.
Peg Leg Mikey stares at me, confused and scared.
Hanky is at the top of a halfpipe and leans forward to go down but sees me and fucks everything up. He crashes back against the halfpipe and slides down, reaching for his back.
“They’re terrified, bro,” Les says to me.
“Good,” I say. “Let’s play into it.”
I walk to the skate park and jump up on the railing and sit down.
“Mac,” Peg Leg Mikey says. “Coming to skate?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Give me your board.”
Mikey kicks his right foot and sends his board toward me.
I jump off the railing and step on the board.
I walk it to the top of the halfpipe and take a breath before going for a quick ride.
Nobody thinks I can do it, but I can.
Mess You Up (Brooks Crest Book 1) Page 5
