Black Sheep (23 page)

After I was done with my toast and coffee, I went upstairs to check his room, but it was empty, including the clothes he’d brought over for when he stayed the night, which was most nights.

I swallowed my hurt and shut the door. I didn’t want to see his empty room. His room would just be another spot in the house I couldn’t look at if we didn’t talk through this and fix things.

Turning, I moved toward Mom and Dad’s bedroom door. We still hadn’t gone in there, and it had been weeks. Pressing my hand to the door, I closed my eyes and let the grief in for a few brief seconds.

And then I did something crazy. I reached for the knob, and I turned it.

The door squeaked from its disuse, and suddenly, I was looking into their space. The room was bright; the blinds were open letting in the morning sun. Their bed wasn’t made, as if they’d just woken up and were now downstairs eating breakfast.

Mom’s pajama pants were on the floor at the end of the bed, and Dad’s shoes were in the corner. The room was dusty, and the dust trickled in the sunlight beaming in through the windows.

I swallowed the tears that threatened and prepared to step inside, but before I could, Brian spoke, making me jump and squeak.

“What are you doing?” he asked from behind me.

Stepping inside for just a second, I grabbed the knob and pulled the door closed. When I turned around, he was staring at me with sadness in his eyes.

“Nothing. I just wanted to look,” I said honestly.

He nodded.

“I understand.” He looked away from me for a second and took a deep breath. “Josh’s mom is here. They’re going to the skate park and wanted to know if I could go. Is that okay?”

I nodded, feeling sick to my stomach by the brief few minutes of staring into Mom and Dad’s room.

“Yeah … go. Have fun.”

I stood on the landing and watched as he went downstairs. I heard his footsteps on the hardwood in the foyer, and then I heard the door open and close.

Instead of going back downstairs, I sat on the top step and got my emotions under control. I didn’t have much planned for the day, but I knew I’d have to meet up with Tyson and talk things through at some point.

I couldn’t leave things the way they were between us. I loved him and just because we had one fight didn’t mean we needed to break up. Unless, of course, that was what he wanted, which was a big possibility. The truth was I didn’t really know what Tyson wanted.

I hadn’t pushed because I wanted him to say it in his own time, but he hadn’t told me he loved me yet, and I wasn’t sure he ever would.

Maybe he didn’t love me.

Maybe it was a sex thing for him, and I was too dumb to see it.

Maybe it was a control thing.

Either way … I’d find out what was going on at some point during the day, and we’d talk it out. I wasn’t one to let things linger unfinished.

I jumped when the doorbell rang, and then I ran down the stairs to the front door.

It wasn’t Tyson. I knew that for sure since he always had his key, and he always walked right in.

It was probably Brian.

He’d probably forgotten his skateboard or needed a few dollars for the park but forgot his key. He was famous for leaving it on the kitchen table.

Unlocking the door, I pulled it open.

“Forget your key again?” I asked with a smile.

But my smile slipped from my face when I saw it wasn’t Brian at the door.

Instead, an older man with graying hair and tired eyes stood in front of me. He was tall and scrawny, except for a tiny bit of stomach that popped out. He was wearing a leather vest with colorful patches on it, and my eyes moved over the patches trying to figure out what each one said.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I thought you were someone else. Can I help you?”

His lips pulled tight as a forced grin transformed his face into a batch of wrinkles.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice rough and broken. “Is Tyson Payne here?”

I had a really bad feeling about the man, but I had no idea why. I’d never seen him before, and I was sure he wasn’t from around the area, but Tyson had many friends I’d never met—friends who worked at tattoo shops and garages—friends who looked and dressed like the man standing before me.

“He’s not here right now. Can I take a message?” I asked politely as if I was taking a phone message instead of talking directly to the person in front of me.

Again, he grinned, making my stomach turn with discomfort.

“Actually,” he said, sucking at his yellowing teeth between words. “That’s okay. You’ll do just fine.”

And then his fist was coming at my face.

I didn’t move quickly enough, and pain exploded behind my eyes when his fist connected with my nose. The room spun a bit, the man’s face becoming blurry as I tilted to the side. Then the room went black, and I dropped to the ground.

Tyson

I COULDN’T SLEEP
after Nicole kicked me out of her room. The entire night had been a mess—first with the bullshit at the club and then the arguing.

I couldn’t stand her being upset with me. I couldn’t sleep knowing we weren’t on good terms, but then I’d gone to her room to fix things only to make them worse.

Lying there, I watched the sun come up. When I couldn’t stand the silence of the room anymore, I got up, got dressed, and called a cab to take me to the tow truck company who had my car.

It pissed me off that the bar had my car towed. They could’ve left it there for me to pick up, but then again, I’d trashed their place, so it was expected.

It was three hundred dollars to get my car back, which I thought was outrageous. As it was, I owed Nicole for bailing me out of jail. I’d need to work overtime at the garage and The Blind Tiger, which I planned to do anyway so I could help Nicole out a little more.

She lost it when she found out I was paying some of the bills, but like it or not, I was going to do all I could to help her.

Seeing her in those shorts and that top while men gawked at her was too much. I guess maybe I went a bit overboard with it, but the jealousy had eaten me up inside. Seeing men touch her wasn’t something I was ever going to be okay with, and I knew as long as she was working at the strip club, there would always be assholes thinking she was fair game.

“Here you go,” the lady behind the front desk said as she dropped my car keys into my palm.

“Thanks,” I mumbled before I left the office and headed outside toward my car.

My car wasn’t even locked, which pissed me off even more. There was trash on the back floorboard that wasn’t from me, and everything from my glove compartment was pulled out and had been tossed on the passenger’s seat.

I sighed and snatched the stuff from the seat to stuff back into its place. I lifted a car manual and threw it into the glove compartment, and when I did, there was a single white envelope lying on the seat. It was under the manual and had my name written across the front in jagged handwriting.

Picking it up, I turned it over in my hand looking for more words, but I found none. I slipped my fingers inside the top and ripped it open. Inside, I found a handwritten letter signed by Mr. Palmer.

Tyson,

I’m so proud of you, son. You worked hard, and you bought yourself your first car. Connie and I had planned to buy you one for graduation, but you stepped up and took care of yourself before we even got the chance to car shop for you.

That’s the thing about you. You’re a hard worker, and you have a smart mind. I’d like to think I had something to do with that, but I knew from the very first day I met you that you were made for greatness. It was an honor to watch you grow up and become the man you are today.

As my son, there are a few things I’d like you to remember …

One day, your memories will fade, and your nightmares will diminish. I know things happened in your past—things you never speak of—but you should know that our pasts don’t define us. We choose the kind of person we want to be, and I feel like you’ve chosen well. As long as you stay on the path you are on, you will do great things.

Always shake a man’s hand with a firm grasp and look him in the eye. You’re an honest man. You let every other man you meet for the rest of your life know that, and no one will ever try to screw you over.

If you love and protect this car as much as you love and protect our daughter, she will last you a lifetime. Don’t think because we don’t talk about it that we don’t know about your love for Nicole. We see the way you look at her—the way you treasure her—and there’s not another man on this earth I’d trust my daughter with.

Regardless of what you think, you’re worthy of her. I’ve always thought so. You’re a good man, Tyson, and I look forward to the day (far into the future) when you make an honest woman out of our daughter, and we can really call you son.

And lastly, we love you as our own, and we always have. You’ve never opened up about your feelings, and we’ve never pushed. We know when you’re ready to speak it, you will. Until then, know that no matter what you do in this life, you’re our family, and we love you.

Give them hell. Keep her between the lines. And stay on the straight and narrow. Life won’t always wear you down, but when it does, welcome it. You’re the person you are today because of the bumps in the road, and personally, I think you’re a great person. You’ll only get better with time. We all do. 

Sincerely,

Mr. Palmer aka Dad 

I wiped at the tears pooling in my eyes and cleared my throat. I hadn’t even realized I was crying, but Mr. Palmer’s words had hit the spot.

The day was bad, and things were going downhill, but after reading his letter, I knew I could fix it and make it better. I knew I couldn’t lose Nicole over something as stupid as a job.

Folding the letter, I slid it back into the envelope and put it back into the glove compartment. I couldn’t believe as many times as I’d cleaned my car over the years that I’d missed his letter. There was no telling how long it had been there, but it felt amazing to hear this thoughts and praise.

He was right.

Bad things had happened in my past, but I couldn’t let those things control me anymore—especially not if they were affecting my relationship with Nicole—not if my actions and reactions pushed her away.

I pulled out of the parking lot of the tow truck company, but instead of going toward the garage to talk to Nate and the guys about the night before, I started toward Nicole’s house. We needed to talk things out. There was no way we could leave things this way.

Reading Mr. Palmer’s letter had reminded me of one very important thing—I loved Nicole. I wasn’t about to lose her. Not when she made me so happy. Not when she lit up my world and erased all the shadows from my life. She was mine, and I was hers, and we were worth the fight. She was worth everything.

Pulling into the driveway, I was happy to see her dad’s car, the car she’d been driving, still parked in front of the garage. I was worried while driving to her house that she wouldn’t be home, and I’d have to wait until later to get everything off my chest.

I cut the engine to my car and got out. As I went up the sidewalk to the front door, I looked over the empty flowerbeds and made a silent promise to myself that I’d plant some spring flowers in honor of Mrs. Palmer.

She loved yellow daisies and had planted them out front every year. I’d make sure they were outside this year, as well. It was the little things, and those yellow daisies were some of the first things I’d seen when I pulled up to their house for the first time when I was twelve years old. They’d always hold a special place in my heart.

The front door was unlocked when I turned the knob, which was strange since Nicole usually kept the door locked. I pushed it open and entered.

The place was quiet as I walked through the foyer toward the back of the house, but as I passed the living room, something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye.

I stopped, turning toward the living room, and when I did, my entire world stopped spinning.

Standing there with a gun to Nicole’s head was Needles. Her face was covered in blood, and it dripped from her chin and onto her yellow shirt. Already, I could see the bruises forming under her eyes.

The son of a bitch had hit her.

My rage spiked, burning a hole in my stomach, but I knew I couldn’t move to attack him. If I did, he might pull the trigger and take Nicole away from me forever.

He grinned at me, his nose a little more crooked and his front tooth busted out, and then he pressed the gun into the side of her head harder, making her gasp.

“Look who decided to join the party,” he said in his gravelly voice.

Clenching my eyes closed, I pushed the memories of him away so I could focus on the situation at hand. I couldn’t let the past get to me—not when Nicole’s life depended on it.

“Just let her go. We’ll talk about this like men outside.” I held my hands in the air with my palms facing out as I stepped into the living room.

“Stop,” he shouted. “Or I swear I’ll blow her fucking head off.”

I stopped moving, my knees locking into place and my fists clenching at my sides.

Nicole was crying, her sobs crushing me from the inside out. My instinct was to protect her—to take her away from the situation and to kill the bastard for laying even a finger on her, but I knew I had to remain in control. Too much was at stake.

“You don’t have to do this. This is between you and me … It has nothing to do with her.”

He laughed, his smoker’s voice breaking over the sounds of his joy.

“Do you think I’m stupid, Tyson? You did this. You started this. You need to learn who not to fuck with. Nobody fucks with me.”

He waved the gun around and scratched at his temple. He was obviously high out of his fucking mind, which made him ten times more dangerous.

“Your dad tried to fuck me over once. Frank Payne was such a piece of shit, but I got his ass, didn’t I? I killed that son of a bitch. He tried to fuck me over, so I sold him a bad batch of heroin. The next day, he was dead.”

No.

That wasn’t what happened at all.

I’d killed my father.

He was wrong.

“You see?” He kept talking. “That’s what happens to people who fuck with me, and you … you fucked with me hard.”

I took a step forward, hoping he’d turn the gun toward me and take it away from Nicole, and it worked. With the gun pointed at me instead of her, I felt like I could breathe better.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. “I killed my father, not you. I gave him two doses instead of one, and then I watched him die.”

Again, Needles laughed.

“Stupid boy. That was all me. You father would’ve died whether he took one dose or two. Trust me. He was never going to wake up.”

I could hardly believe my ears.

All the years I’d felt like a murderer, and it was Needles who’d killed my father. It was strange. I felt like a load had been lifted off me, but at the same time, I was angry for having that taken away from me.

I’d fought back. I’d taken my life in my hands, and I’d killed my father to get away from that life. Finding out years later that I had nothing to do with his death was a blow—for the good—and for the bad.

“Fine. You win. You killed him.” I shrugged. “Now, let her go. My father might’ve screwed you over, but she’s done nothing to you.”

He nodded, pursing his lips in thought. “You know, you’re right. This pretty little piece hasn’t done anything to me, but you … you have.”

He turned the gun back on Nicole, and my heart slammed to a stop once again.

He was going to shoot her if I didn’t do something about it.

“You did things to me first,” I said, the words choking me as they came out.

He chuckled, making Nicole flinch as he pressed the barrel of the gun into the side of her head.

She was stiff with terror, blood and tears streaming down her face. I wanted to go to her and hold her. I wanted to take it all away.

“Yeah, I did,” he said proudly. “And you loved every minute of it.”

Rage rippled through me at his words, urging me to go after him and rip him apart, but I didn’t budge, afraid that even the smallest movement would push him to pull the trigger.

This wasn’t going to end well either way it went. Dealing with someone who was high out of their mind was one thing, but someone high and full of the need for revenge was another. He wasn’t going to leave until one of us was dead.

I knew the kind of man he was. I’d dealt with him and his kind many times. And he’d already openly admitted to killing my father. That probably wasn’t the first or the last time he’d killed, which meant I needed a plan.

I didn’t respond to his taunts the way he expected. Instead, I took another step into the living room, bringing myself closer to him and Nicole and making him turn the gun away from her and back toward me.

I didn’t think. The second he turned the gun away from Nicole, I jumped at him. The gun went off twice before I reached him, echoing through my mind like two bombs exploding.  I knocked him over, falling on top of him before I landed a few punches to his face.

In the background, I could hear Nicole’s screams. They pushed me to move harder and faster—whatever I needed to do to keep her safe—whatever I had to do to kill him before he killed me.

During the scuffle, the gun fired a third time before I ripped it from his grasp and used the butt of it to hit him. But he kept fighting, hitting me on my side before trying to choke me. He was faster this time—stronger—and I knew he was high on something that gave him all the energy and strength he needed to fight back.

He moved his arms the wrong way, trying to get at me, and I shoved the barrel of the gun against his body. I lodged it into his side and pulled the trigger once. He jerked, but still he fought, prompting me to unload the rest of the bullets into his body. I pulled the trigger even after the gun was empty, and a clicking noise echoed into the space around us with each pull.