Lean In: Royal Bastards MC Pittsburgh, PA

by Deja Voss

  “What do you got, son?” my dad asks as he closes the door behind him and takes his seat at the head of the table. “You getting soft over some sluts?”

  “Turn it off,” I say. It’s just the three of us. He doesn’t need to bust my balls. I need him to be reasonable. “It’s bigger than that. The Gallo family was behind this.”

  Lazarus lets out a long whistle and brings his fist to his lips.

  “They got to Destiny. Made her plant the shit.”

  “Well color me intrigued,” my dad says, raising his eyebrows and smiling. “What’d you do with her?”

  For all I know she’s still tied up on my office floor. I didn’t really get a chance to think that through.

  “Catalina called me. They got eyes inside the club. They knew when Gin OD’d. Said she’d been trying to get ahold of me.”

  “This just keeps getting more and more interesting. Has she, son? Been trying to get ahold of you?”

  “I screen my calls.”

  “Well, looks like you got a mess on our hands,” he says with a laugh, lifting his glass to his lips. “What do you think? Retaliation?”

  I sit down in my chair, resting my head in my hands with a sigh. “They have a casino tag.”

  “What the fuck…” Lazarus mutters under his breath.

  “Our golden ticket,” I groan. “They want to sit down about it tomorrow. I don’t fucking feel right about this at all. I don’t want these scumbags up in our business. It’s not fucking worth it.”

  “We’ll talk to them,” my dad says with a shrug. I can see the wheels in his head turning. “Obviously they wouldn’t reach out unless they needed something from us. Now that the old man is dead, those kids are floundering. They don’t know their asses from their heads. That’s where we step in.”

  “It’s gonna be a bloodbath,” I say. “We need to bring this to the table.”

  “We’ll go hear ‘em out. No need to get everybody riled. You in Laz?”

  Lazarus stares up at the ceiling, his hands shoved in his pockets, mumbling something under his breath. I don’t know if it’s a prayer or a curse, but at this point, it’s not gonna make a difference. When my old man makes his mind up about something, that’s the gospel.

  “Those people freak me right the fuck out,” he replies. “Got more money than they know what to do with and more time on their hands than anybody I know. They’re a bunch of rich inbred weirdos.”

  That rumor has been swirling around the city for years now, and those creeps actually embrace it, bragging about their pure bloodlines. Catarina and Stefano were raised to be your typical rich brats, with nobody ever telling them no. I’ve heard that the two of them have a China cabinet full of gold plated human skulls they’ve collected from a yearly human hunting trip they go on down in some third world country. Stefano has a pet tiger and a string of mysteriously missing housekeepers on his hands. Then, you have the stunt they pulled at the strip club. And the years of human trafficking they have been involved in.The lives of people like us, blue collar, normal everyday people mean nothing to them.

  “You chicken, boy? They got the money, but we got the muscle. What are you worried about, that they’re gonna put a hit out on us?” My dad starts laughing. “Who do you think they hire to do that shit? Those kids aren’t trying to get their hands dirty. We need that tag, and we’re gonna get it by any means necessary.”

  “I agree,” I say.

  Not because I’m thrilled with getting in bed with Catarina and Stefano. Not because I want to put my men at danger - but because anything I can take away from those monsters is a life we might save. If we can hit them where it hurts, in their wallets, take away some of their power, and maybe even get close enough to disrupt the supply chain, I might be able to sleep again at night.

  I know my father’s rationale is the opposite of mine, but he doesn’t have to know that. I’ll let him get so distracted by the green, that when I paint this city red, the blood will be on my hands for the good of the club. For the patch. For everything my forefathers stand for.

  Chapter Three

  Mani:

  “I don’t like to see you like this, Mani. You work too hard. You need to tell your teachers you need some time off.”

  I lace my fingers in between my sisters and give them a weak squeeze. She’s having a good day, sitting up in her bed with her eyes wide open. I wish every day was like this - then we could finally run away from it all.

  She starts coughing and my heart begins racing. I reach for her nebulizer, but she puts her hand up in the air. “I’m fine. Tell me more about the show. Do you think you’re going to get the lead?”

  “I hope so,” I say with a sad smile. I hate lying to her. She’s the only person in the world I can talk to, and ninety percent of what comes out of my mouth is bullshit. If she knew that I wasn’t actually training for the Pittsburgh Ballet Company, and that these bruises all over me came from the hands of our step siblings, it would only stress her out more than her poor body could handle. It hurts to talk today, and I try not to move around too much because every time I do, some other ache in my body wakes up, and I fear I might not be able to stifle my agony.

  The knock on the door always makes my heart break a little bit. My sister’s cystic fibrosis is worsening every day, and I never know when or if I’ll get to see her again. She knows this, and so do I. I hope if the truth ever comes out, she realizes I am not abandoning her, but only doing whatever I have to do to keep her alive.

  I hope she realizes I would rip the lungs out of my chest for her if it ever came down to that.

  I can’t tell her though, especially not with Catarina lurking around the corner.

  The door swings open, and Doctor Fischer and his nurse walk in and rush to her bedside, checking vitals and ports, and whatever other contraptions they have her hooked up to.

  “I’m fine,” she insists. “Please, let me visit with my sister a little longer.”

  “She has to go, love.” Catarina is jingling her keys, and my heart sinks. Ella thinks it means she’s taking me back to dance school, but to me, I know it means another day of terror.

  “I love you, Ella,” I say, mustering up all my strength to kiss her on the forehead. “I’ll see you soon.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  I look over at Catarina, draped in a long, skin tight, leopard print dress, her black hair curled immaculately so that it cascades over her shoulders, and her lips painted bright red. She shrugs. “You might have to take a couple extra classes if you don’t get yourself in shape, Mani. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

  The hair on my arm stands up. Extra classes means Catarina is in a mood. I never know what the twisted bitch has up her sleeves, but the way she’s smiling, her perfectly white teeth nearly sparkling in the glow of the light of the room, I have a feeling I probably won’t see my sister tomorrow. For all I know, I’ll end up in a wheelchair or a ditch.

  Or she could just be playing with me.

  That’s happened before, too. The psychological games are a million times worse than the physical pain.

  “I’ll see you soon, Ella. Stay strong, you promise?” I ask, squeezing her hand just a little tighter and trying to fight back my tears.

  “I’m a fighter, just like you.” There’s so much innocence behind her eyes, and her smile breaks my heart.

  I hang my head as I walk out of the room. Catarina puts her hand on my back knowing exactly where to poke her fingers to make me scream. I hold it in to the best of my ability. Show Catarina your weakness, and she’ll do whatever she can to exploit it.

  She unlocks the door right next to Ella’s room, which is your typical closet. It’s dark and small, and I can barely stand up inside of it without hitting my head on the shelves. The floor is hard wood, and it’s full of cleaning supplies that smell so strong they make my eyes water.

  “You know Ella took a turn for the worse, don’t you? The doctor says her lung function is down to ten percent. Can yo
u imagine the pain that she’s in all day every day? Can you imagine how hard it is for her to breathe? How she has to struggle to barely even do a basic human function? It’s a tragedy.”

  I knew Ella’s condition was worsening. When she was first diagnosed, the doctors said they would be surprised if she lived to see ten. Now she’s almost thirteen, and even though she doesn’t have much of a life, I know if her condition improves, she might escape this place and having a better chance than I ever will. It’s part of the contract I signed. My life for hers. My freedom for her safety.

  The news is devastating, hearing it out loud is heartbreaking, but I hold back my tears.

  “It probably doesn’t help her any that her sister is such a piece of shit whore. You think she doesn’t know what a slut you are? You think she doesn’t know you’re the reason why her mom and dad aren’t here for her?”

  She shoves me in the closet and slams the door behind me. It’s pitch black, and the fumes from the cleaners only heighten my claustrophobia, choking me and stinging my lungs. I know it’s not even a fraction of the pain Ella feels every day. I press my hand to the wall that I know is attached to my sister’s room, my broken fingers throbbing.

  I couldn’t fight back if I wanted to.

  And even if I did, what would I do?

  I’m exactly what Catarina says. I’m a piece of shit whore. I have nothing and no one. No money, no skills, I don’t even know how to string together a coherent sentence anymore unless I’m talking with Ella. As much as I want to take her and run, where would we go? She needs around the clock medical attention, and I’m the most useless person on the planet. I’m nothing more than a piece of garbage in the grand scheme of things.

  Not fighting is the only way I can save her. I let myself cry so hard, tears and snot run down my face. I try not to be too loud. Ella doesn’t need to hear this. Not fighting is my only option. Accepting my fate is the only way I can save the only person in this world I care about.

  I brought this on myself.

  Chapter Four

  Lean:

  We pull up to the gate of the monstrosity of a mansion outside of Gibsonia, and it swings right open. I’m still not entirely sure of what our move here is. Dad seems to think we’re just gonna do a little recon, scope out the situation, and make them think we have the upper hand.

  We are so far from our own turf, it’s not even funny. This place looks like a castle, the garage alone bigger than our whole clubhouse, the three cars parked in the circular driveway worth more than all our strip clubs combined. Out of place is an understatement. I feel like I was dropped on another planet entirely. The tiger roaming around in the yard only heightens my anxiety.

  “It’s all show, boy,” my dad whispers in my ear as we stand in front of the sprawling property. “They’re regular people like the rest of us. Bleed the same as anybody else. Don’t let them rattle you.”

  “It’s not me I’m worried about,” I growl. “It’s your big mouth. No deals, no promises, no nothing. You swear?”

  “Can we go inside and get this over with?” Lazarus asks, looking over his shoulder as the tiger stretches his chain to max capacity, throwing back his head and roaring at us. “This is some sketchy shit.”

  The front door opens and Catarina stands there in all her glory, with the big hair, the tight leopard print, and the big old fake boobs. It’s reassuring she’s as fake on the outside as she is on the inside, half plastic half straight up horse shit.

  “You made it!” She grabs me by the hand and places a kiss on each of my cheeks. My skin is already crawling as she walks down the line, kissing Lazarus, then my father, who seems to hold her in an embrace a little longer than necessary.

  “I haven’t seen you in years, kiddo,” he says to her. “You grew up real nice, Cat.”

  “And you’ve aged like a fine wine,” she says.

  Looking around the place, you’d think we were at a porn shoot, not here for a sit down meeting about a business opportunity. Champaign is flowing, girls in various states of undress are sucking off dudes, finger fucking each other, the whole nine yards. Lazarus’ face is a mixture of disgust and confusion, but my old man is eating this shit right up. Some topless bitch walks by with a tray of white lines, and Catarina extends her hands in offering.

  “I’m good,” I say, rolling my eyes.

  “Oh that’s right. We can’t have poor Lean relapsing,” she says dramatically.

  “Fuck off. Why do you think any of us would take drugs from you after the stunt you pulled at the club? You must think we’re fucking idiots.”

  She laughs and shakes her head. “You’re never going to let that drop, are you?”

  “It was yesterday.” Lazarus shoves his hands in his pockets and taps his foot impatiently. “Now can we get this shit on the road? We’ve got places to be, Cat.”

  “Hear the woman out,” my dad says, grabbing a straw from the tray and putting it to his nose. He snorts down the line and pumps his fist in the air. “That’s some good shit, girl.”

  I know exactly the game he’s playing. It’s how he gets things done. Bruiser is everybody’s favorite guy to party with, everybody’s best friend, until he isn’t. I just wish he didn’t make me look like such a fucking tool by disagreeing with everything I said and did. If he ever wants me to take over his position, he’s going to have to stop disrespecting me in front of people.

  “Where’s Stefano? We need to get this shit on the road,” I say.

  “Of course,” Catarina says, smirking at me, her dark eyes cutting a hole right through my skull. “Right this way.”

  The mansion is massive and pristine, but it looks like whoever designed the place was definitely a fan of the 70s. There’s so much red velvet wallpaper and everything is gold foiled or gold plated or just chintzy, cheap and gold. Painted family portraits line the walls, and I feel like seven generations of Gallos are watching my every move. I don’t know how these kids haven’t ripped those the fuck down yet, but then again, Lazarus said those two are freaks. Maybe they like being watched.

  My dad’s running his mouth the whole way down the hallway, acting like him and her old man were best buddies back in the day or some shit. Gibber jabbering away. It’s how he gets things done. I, on the other hand, am just here to observe.

  “The fuck was that?” There’s a loud thumping sound coming from the utility closet. Sounds like somebody’s bowling in there.

  “Oh, it’s probably the cat,” Catarina says, grabbing my hand.

  I know they have tigers and shit, but I never heard a cat make a noise like that. Her lack of concern for letting it out raises a red flag for me. I know all about having skeletons in your closet, but this appears to be a live one. I pull away from her grip and walk over to the door, pressing my ear against it as the knocks escalate.

  “You should probably let it out. Sounds hungry,” I say. Lazarus slaps his hands over his mouth and watches with wide eyes as I tug on the locked door.

  “I don’t have the key,” Catarina says. “I’ll send the maid. It’ll be fine. Trust me. Happens all the time.”

  “Let it be, boy,” my dad says.

  “What’s going on out here?” A man about my age in a fitted blue suit appears from a room across the hallway. Catarina shoots him a nervous glance, and it’s painfully obvious they might not be twins, but they definitely could be. “Mr. DeCico. Lean. And you are?” Stefano asks, extending his hand to Lazarus.

  I press my boot into the wall as I yank on the closet door with all my might, ripping it off the frame.

  There’s a loud thud, and out falls this body. Whoever she is, she needs a good meal and judging by the bruises on her body, some medical attention. Her hair is wild, and her eyes blink open as she gasps for air.

  “What the fuck?” Lazarus mutters.

  Everything around me starts moving in slow motion. I have no idea who this bitch is. I don’t know what she was doing in there, and she doesn’t even seem too interested in the fac
t that she’s free. She rolls over on her side and curls up in fetal position.

  “I’ve been looking all over for you!” Stefano says, standing over the woman with his hands on his hips, shaking his head in disappointment. “You really need to stay out of the liquor, girl. What are you doing in there?”

  “Help me,” she mouths before shutting her eyes tight and flopping over on her back.

  “You guys will have to forgive me. This slut has been trouble since the day she came here crying for help. She does this every so often, this playing dead thing. Don’t let her fool you, she’s a lying piece of shit, just looking for pity.”

  He kicks her square in the ribs, and she doesn’t even move, doesn’t even grimace.

  “Hey man!” Lazarus shouts. “Knock it the fuck off.”

  I reach for my knife, ready to cut this motherfucker, but he just laughs and shoves his hands in his pocket, looking me square in the eye.

  “I’m sure you gentlemen know what it’s like to deal with traitors. This bitch is one of the worst. The things she did to my father… to my family… I’m sorry you have to see this, but some people just need made an example of.”

  This woman doesn’t look like she could fight her way out of a paper bag. I can’t imagine what she did that was so wrong. Laying there on the floor with her eyes closed, her chest rising and falling, she looks like a perfect angel to me. I swear her eyes open just a crack and turn to me, and that’s when I feel it in my bones.

  Fuck that casino tag.

  “She don’t look so hot,” my dad says.

  “She’s fine, aren’t you girl?” he asks.

  She doesn’t say anything, but her lips tremble, her teeth chattering. I can’t take much more of this. I can’t watch this woman suffer any longer. I don’t care what she might have done to them. In my eyes, she’s already perfect.

  He bends down next to her and pulls something out of his pocket, jamming it into the side of her neck. She jumps up from the floor and starts screaming before taking off running down the hallway. He laughs as he zaps the taser in the air.