by Hazel Parker
I shook my head, unable to forgive myself or to let go of how stupidly I had acted.
“You know, he said that you two were such assholes to him. Knowing you now—”
“It’s true.”
That was incredibly unexpected. I staggered back at that and waited for Jack to smile, as if revealing a morbid joke in the middle of it all. He gave no such indication. He sighed before elaborating.
“We were assholes to Kyle when we were kids,” he said. “The uncle that he killed, Reggie…Reggie could be a real knucklehead at times. Reggie sucked at kindness and understanding. Reggie was like that football coach that would yell at you until your face turned red. Reggie was a good man at heart, but he was the kind of guy that could become a lifelong enemy if you didn’t handle him carefully. Kyle couldn’t handle him. And Marcel, my brother, and I modeled ourselves after Reggie.”
Shit…but you were just kids. How could you have known any better?
“It wasn’t until we left our home that we both realized that we’d been too harsh on Kyle, but by that point, there was no turning back. He had already become the guy that you know. I’ve tried to reach out to apologize, and I think sometimes, it works, but…”
“He just murdered your uncle.”
Jack solemnly nodded.
Now I had to figure out just what to do with all of this information, and I didn’t have the foggiest idea of where to start. Staying with Jack could both be the safest and the most dangerous thing I could do, depending on how well he could protect me. If he could provide a watchful eye, then I suspected there was no one I’d feel safer with.
But if he couldn’t? If Kyle knew that the two of us were still seeing each other?
That objective likelihood was soaring into all but a guarantee.
“What are you going to do to him?” I asked.
I all but felt the wall getting thrown up by Jack, who retreated on the couch as he folded his legs under him. He crouched over, as if withdrawing into a turtle shell, and did not look me in the eye. He bit his lip, preventing himself from saying anything further. When I asked him to repeat himself, he only shook his head, still refusing to look at me.
“Jack,” I said with a hint of pleading. “Can you please tell me what you’re going to do to Kyle?”
“Club business is club business.”
I waited for him to say something else. But he had no intention of elaborating. He had said his bit, and that was that.
It was so unlike him, and it left me absolutely terrified. I was completely convinced that the two brothers were going to kill each other, and it was just a question of who landed the killing blow first. And if I’m going to be caught in the middle somehow, and if my life is at risk.
You know the answer to that.
Yes. And yes.
“Jack, come on,” I said. “I’m a part of this too. Like it or not, and I can assure you I do not like it, I am involved and entangled. And if I’m going to be a part of this, I need to know what’s going to happen. At the very least, I need to know what to do.”
“Club business is club business.”
“Jack!”
I had never imagined I’d have to raise my voice at Jack. Unfortunately, I’d also never imagined that I’d be in the middle of a fraternal battle to the death, both of them loving me. If I had my choice, Kyle would get over himself, move somewhere else, and Jack and I could see where this would go.
Too bad that life just never seemed to work out so neatly for me.
“Stay low,” he said. “I don’t know what Kyle is going to do. But I can tell you this. Blood’s going to be shed. War has already started between the club and him, and it feels like our D-Day is approaching by the minute. If you put yourself in the middle…”
He couldn’t finish his thoughts.
And then a thought came to mind for me that left me feeling nervous as hell. How can I be outside of the middle and date you at the same time? You’re so good to me and so sweet, but if this is literally going to be a battle to the death…
“You’re scaring me, Jack.”
“I know,” he said. “And believe me, I wish I wasn’t. But right now, I don’t see any way diplomacy wins out.”
“Are you even going to try?”
He let out one of the heaviest sighs I had ever heard or seen him make.
“I’m the only one in the Stone family that seems to have tried,” he said. “But if I’ve done that and he’s still going to kill Uncle, then I’m not sure there’s any more point in trying.”
He put his head in his hands.
“I need to protect you, Lilly. I don’t want you going to any coffee shops or leaving your place.”
“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that.”
But what I was trying to muster the courage to say was that I was starting to accept I wouldn’t be safe here with him, either. So long as I was near Jack, Kyle would kill me to get to him. Or, perhaps, Kyle would kill Jack to get to me. Both options scared the hell out of me.
“What do you want me to do for now, then?” I said.
Jack just shook his head. He was projecting a degree of certainty, but it was a sort of false appearance. I knew he was as scared and confused as I was. I knew neither of us were going to feel any better until death or a miracle occurred.
“I’ll spend the night here,” he said. “I’ll have to go to the repair shop eventually. But I want you to stay here. If you need to get out, I’ll follow you. Can you work with that?”
I nodded that I would. The truth was, though, it was only a short-term reprieve.
And as we prepared for bed and as we crawled under the covers, there was absolutely zero passion and zero interest on either side for sex. I think he leaned over to kiss me, but the kiss was also devoid of anything meaningful. Frankly, the idea of intimacy or romance was just too far removed for it to be possible.
I wasn’t ready to say that this discussion and everything we had realized was going to spell the end of us. I still liked Jack, and I knew that he liked me. But we just couldn’t pretend that what had happened was something we could easily mentally move on from for the night.
The only question was if it would follow us long enough to split us apart.
The answer was less promising than I wanted to admit.
Chapter 15: Biggie
For the next three days, up until Friday morning, I followed the same routine every day.
I woke up at Lilly’s place. I ate breakfast, kissed her goodbye, left her with a gun, and headed to the repair shop. The instant that I got off, I headed straight for her place. We sat on the couch and watched TV, but that was more of a mind-numbing exercise than anything else. At some point in the evening, we’d go to bed. I’d kiss her goodnight, and then that would be it.
There were no erotic moments. There were no romantic moments. We felt like a married couple that had lost the zest for each other and only stuck together for the sake of appearances. That wasn’t true at the core, of course. I still cared a great deal for her, perhaps even to the extent that I could say that I loved her. But nothing other than absolute protection and rigidity felt like the appropriate response. Simply put, the timing wasn’t right.
The Thursday club meeting was the only thing that disrupted the schedule, but even that was barely a blip. We simply finalized funeral plans for the following morning with the understanding that an attack on Kyle and the Bloodhounds would occur sometime over the following days. It was also understood that this would be the final attack on Kyle; he would not live to see the following Monday sunrise.
But for at least a little over twelve hours, Kyle would have a reprieve.
As I went to bed Thursday night, kissing Lilly good night, her barely mumbling a response back, I wondered what was going through Kyle’s mind right now. Was he regretting what he had done? Did he realize the implication of his actions? Did he know that we were all gunning for him, or did he think what he’d done would scare us off from acting?
> I wanted to believe, on some level, that he could be redeemed. I wanted there to be a chance that, even with what Kyle had done, that he could be saved. But wanting to and actually believing were two very different things.
When I woke up Friday, I got dressed two hours before the funeral. It’s not like I had anything better to do with my time, and I knew I wasn’t going to get anything else done. Lilly came out and put a hand on my shoulder, but it didn’t have the same intensity that her touch had had before.
I almost wanted us to start over. I wanted me to take her out, to have a date without Kyle hanging over either our heads, and treat it like it was the first time either one of us had met the other. But I wasn’t getting a lot of what I wanted these days.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
I shrugged. I wasn’t really feeling anything.
“OK, I guess,” I said. “Not looking forward to this.”
“I know. Just think of it as a chance to celebrate his life, not mourn his death.”
I knew she was just trying to help, but I couldn’t help but think of how cliché and trite she sounded. It was hard to celebrate knowing my blood brother had been the one to kill him.
“Jack, before you go, there’s something I need to tell you.”
Well, this went over swimmingly last time. I’m sure it’ll be just as great this time.
“OK, what’s up?” I said, resigning myself to this being bad news of some kind.
“I…I’m tired of being cooped up in here. I’m going to go out and write somewhere. I know you said I need to be safe and be here, but Jack, this all happened Sunday night. I haven’t seen Kyle since Monday. If something were going to happen, it probably would have happened by now. So that it hasn’t…”
Only means that when you do put yourself out there, Kyle will lick his chops in delight. It’ll somehow be better for him, given how much he had to wait to see you.
“I don’t suppose there’s any changing your mind, is there?”
“Afraid not,” she said. “I’m not fifteen. I’m a grown woman who knows how to defend herself or ask for help. And besides, Kyle’s a politician. He’s not going to do anything in public to harm himself.”
“Like chase you awkwardly in front of everyone?”
I didn’t mean to be so snarky, but I wasn’t wrong. Lilly, at least, seemed to recognize that I was right as well.
“I just can’t stay cooped up; I’m going to lose my damn mind.”
“You know this will all be taken care of over the weekend, right? Can you just stay—”
“What does that mean, Jack? What does it mean that everything will be taken care of this weekend? Are you going to tell me?”
I wasn’t. That was club business. It’s not like reading between the lines here was hard, but I wasn’t about to hand her the answer sheet to the question.
“I can’t stop you,” I said, mostly ignoring her. “I can only tell you that the streets are dangerous as long as he’s out there and you’re here. The problem will be taken care of over the weekend. If you can’t wait that long, well, like you said, you’re not fifteen years old anymore.”
We weren’t really fighting, but the words sounded so combative that I couldn’t help but wonder how Lilly would feel about them later when she reflected upon it. We were already in such a stressful and emotional situation that we weren’t going to grow our bond any further, but if we lost it…
“OK,” she said.
“OK,” I replied.
Both of us obviously had much more to say. Both of us, though, obviously felt it better to be kept inside.
* * *
I was the first one at the funeral, which took place under a sunny sky. In the far, far distance, a storm was approaching, but according to the weather report, it wouldn’t come for another few hours, maybe even longer. It was unlikely to strike while we were at the funeral.
I sat in the front next to an empty seat, which Marcel would take after sharing a few words. Ours was the only row that had two seats; the rest of the rows had five, designating us as the only family members there.
It was a stunning realization that hadn’t hit me until we arrived, but it was undeniably true; the two of us were the only Stones, aside from Kyle, left in the world. For as much as we talked about the Savage Saints being like family—and for as much as we held onto that belief with absolute sincerity—there was something undeniably unsettling in realizing that the only family I had left that I genuinely cared about was standing before me.
No cousins. No parents. No aunts or uncles. No kids. Marcel had his ex-girlfriend and his daughter, but his ex was merely cordial, and while his daughter was adorable and sweet, she was still very young and still very far removed from the rest of the family. Or just me, really.
I couldn’t say that it made me suddenly want to be close to Lilly, but I could say that it made me realize I couldn’t waste an opportunity with her. When things settled down, when Kyle was out of the picture, I wasn’t going to let a moment go by without her.
But first, we had this funeral to attend and then another one to create.
“Good afternoon,” Marcel said, clearing his throat.
I watched Marcel with great interest as he began his speech. It was very similar to the one he had given the club, but this time, with the Savage Saints of Las Vegas and Green Hills present, his words seemed to carry far more fire to them than before. He was much more deliberate with his words, almost as if giving a theatrical performance.
In some respects, it was something of a show. It was a chance for him to showcase his leadership and his skills to those whom he’d need help from in the days ahead. We only had those Savage Saints for a few days, and we couldn’t waste any of them.
“Let it be known,” Marcel said when he finished giving his praises to Uncle, “that we will not stand idly by and let Uncle’s death be wasted. We will use it to bring justice and peace to our city. We will find those responsible. And we will make sure they face the consequences of their actions. For that, there will be no question.”
Obviously, it being a funeral, there was no applause, no whistling, no cheers. But when I looked back at the crowd to gauge their reactions, I saw the funeral equivalent of emphasis—a simple head nod. It came from Richard, it came from Trace, and it came from all of the officers across all regions of Savage Saints.
“Well done,” I said, patting his shoulder.
“Yeah,” Marcel said.
I’d never heard him sound so exhausted in my life. I hoped that wherever Kyle was, he was feeling just as exhausted; surely, even someone who hated Uncle and us as he did had to get worn down at some point by all of the fighting and nonsense that was going on.
Was it enough to make him surrender and beg for forgiveness?
No.
And even if he did, it probably wouldn’t be enough to save him. Kyle had made his bed—now it was time for us to put him in it.
The funeral proceeded, the only moment of true emotion coming when Uncle was lowered into the earth. Although I heard a few sniffles, no one was going to burst out crying. And as it was, for both Marcel and I, the moment of greatest emotion had come the night he had died. This was just a formality.
As we headed into the reception, Marcel pulled me back. I stood waiting with him as the crowd dissolved ahead of us. Only two figures remained—Richard and Trace, the presidents of the respective clubs.
“We wanted to have a word with you,” Richard began. “I think that you two should understand why we’re here.”
He took out a cigar and lit it as Trace stood in silence, allowing Richard to have the floor.
“Does the name Paul Peters mean anything to either of you?”
It didn’t. At least Richard and Trace didn’t seem offended by it and didn’t say anything negative.
“Paul was my older brother, and if he were alive today, he’d be Trace’s father-in-law,” Richard began. “That man is the sole reason any of us can call ourselv
es Savage Saints. But the funny thing was, when I was alive, I was so jealous of his guts. I hated him. I spun off from the family, but it seems that the de facto apple never falls far from the tree.”
“I knew Paul when I was an adult,” Trace said as Richard took a puff of his cigar. “Whatever good you see from the two of us, it comes from him. Aside from his daughter, my wife, he was one of the greatest men that I have ever known. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about him.”
Richard finished his puff, coughed, and cleared his throat.
“The reason we’re telling you this, gents, is because of how he died.”
A lump formed in Trace’s throat.
“A rival gang murdered him at an ice cream shop while he was celebrating the return of his daughter from her college days,” Trace said. “If not for the actions of BK, our sergeant-at-arms, there’s a disturbing chance that they would have succeeded in killing her as well. They very much went into it intending to end the Peters line as much as they could. They succeeded in killing the patriarch, but not in the spirit.”
“There’s nothing worse than being witness to a violent death of a loved one,” Richard said. “We both know it. We both know how much it galvanized the club. And we both know that if your own brother murdered your uncle, then he’s going to pay the same price that all the other assholes who crossed us did.”
“We understand that for some of the guys here, the club is family. We also understand from seeing you two interact that you two are brothers in every sense of the word. We know you won’t stop until Kyle is dead. And for that, we’re here to help. The aftermath is up to you, but for now?”
I nodded. Marcel did the same.
“We appreciate the help,” Marcel said.
“Of course,” Trace said.
“We also wanted to pull you aside to say that we follow your lead, Marcel,” Richard said. “And Biggie, if something happens to your brother, we will follow you too. We’ll follow you to hell and back until Kyle is killed.”
“I appreciate it.”
