Born Into Trouble (Occupy Yourself Book 1) (15 page)

Mason leaned back, and Benny began to feel as if he could breathe again, so he tried, but his intake of air was as jittery as a meth addict’s fingers holding a pipe. In and in, seeming never to end, his chest expanding with the release of pressure and he wondered if his muscles would be able to support him, if he could even move. Mason’s next words froze his breath again, threatening mode still fully engaged. “You fuck over our girl, I’ll own your ass in a different way. She’s had enough shit in her life, too. Don’t need you shoveling any on top of her own family’s more than ample contributions.”

“I never meant to…” His voice trailed off as Mason’s expression sharpened, focusing back on him so attentively he felt like a rabbit with a hound arrowing straight at him.

“Intent matters, but only if you’re honest about it. Meaning doesn’t count when you know full well it’s the doing that fucks people over.” Mason shook his head. “Slate won’t tell you this. He loves you and wouldn’t want to lay the burden on you of what mighta happened, but you need to know, so I will. Your brother leveraged himself for you. Him against all those fuckers you owed. Nearly a war, and if it had gone one single fucking inch to one side or the other, it would have been war. I’d have been required to bring the entire weight of the club in behind him, having his back when it counted. Because family watches out for family. All so he could clean up your drunken-assed shit.”

Mason gestured to the backs of the men standing silently, and Benny knew they were close enough to hear every word of his humiliation. That didn’t hurt as much as knowing Lucia had seen him drunk and vomiting into a bowl while she held it. But it still burned.

He shook his head and focused back on Mason, who was eyeing him curiously. Once Mason knew Benny was listening, he spoke again, “Your brother loves your ass, man. Loves you. Loves the club, but he loves you, too. He would have hated it, but he still would have pulled the club in with him. Half the men standing here would be dead right now if we did that. Would have been a war like no one’s ever seen.” Leaning back towards the table, Mason rested a hand between them, finger tapping the top of the table in an insistent way. Thudding like a heartbeat, racing faster and faster. “Men with families. Wives. Lovers. Kids. Hell, brothers. Dead because of you.” Benny felt sick, thinking about DeeDee’s face this morning, knowing she’d already lost so much, thinking,
What if Jase had been one of the fallen?

“I see that’s sinking in.” The weight of Mason’s stare didn’t lessen. “See a lot of what I said sinking in. You let it get in there deep where you can’t ever question the rightness. Because I ain’t foolin’ with you, boy. You fuck up, fuck Slate over, you’ll be history in a way he can’t set right. Slate’ll hate it, but in his gut, he’ll know I did him right. Might hate
me
, but that’s something I can live with, knowing I done my brother right.” They stared at each other for a long time, the noise of the bar muted, seeming to not exist beyond the patched circle of men’s backs, men who might have died because of him. “We’re done here.”

With a sigh, Mason shifted and stood, looking down at Benny for a long minute. His expression lightened, and he said something so ludicrous Benny’s brain arrested for a moment. “Get the tenderloin. It’s good.”

Bitter laughter burst from Benny and the corners of Mason’s mouth tipped up, but his eyes stayed cold, evaluating. “Advice is free, boy. So’s the sandwich. On the house. It’s all on the house tonight.” A pause. “My treat.” Mason’s finger tapped on the table, echoing the rhythm from before. A reminder. “Take it or leave it.” Benny knew Mason was talking about so much more than the choice of entrees, and he didn’t mistake the look that sliced through him before the man turned on his heel and walked away.

With a scuffle of boot soles, the men retreated to the tables they had previously occupied, and Benny watched as they sat back down with friends and family. Groups of men all around the room, as Mason had said, dining out with wives and children, brothers and sisters, even what looked like parents or grandparents sitting with one man. Benny watched as he leaned in, kissing the older woman softly on the cheek, her eyes lighting as her cheeks lifted in a smile.

Lucia hurried up, gaze locked on his face and he stared as she slid into the seat opposite him. Same seat same position, but her presence not carrying nearly the fear factor Mason’s had. Luce’s presence pushed him past the threat, and reminded him of something Mason said.
He trusted me enough to tell me his secret about her dad. He thinks I can do this, stay sober, stay straight. He wouldn’t have warned me if he didn’t think I could do this. Mason strikes me as someone who’d act instead of talking, so maybe he wants me to succeed. For Andy. For Luce. For me
. “You okay?” She smiled, the expression strained, and he was glad when it quickly faded. “Mason’s
muy
intense.”

“Yeah, he is. But I’m okay. He’s got some good points, savvy advice. And recommendations.” Carefully replacing the menu between the wall and napkin holder, he said, “I’m gonna have the tenderloin.”

“Good choice.” She grinned, slotting her menu alongside his, reaching out to slip her fingers under his and he accepted the offer, curling his hand around hers and holding tight. “I’ll join you.”

6 weeks later

Benny sat on a log near a roaring bonfire, listening to the music lifting into the air all around him. Some from boom boxes and speakers, but most came from a variety of instruments including dulcimers, flattops, mouth harps, and the beauty that was an a cappella song.
What a perfect day
, he thought, making a mental note to thank DeeDee again for all her hard work. Andy and Ruby were on their way to the Georgia coast for their honeymoon, leaving all their worries in the cloud of dust that lifted in a rooster tail behind Andy’s bike. Now it was dark, and the Rebel Wayfarers celebratory party had swung into high gear once the sun went down. Even with that, the mood was mellow and sweet for the most part. Benny grinned into the darkness as a loud shout and splash sounded near the lake. Some groups might be a tad rowdier than others.

“Fuck.” The muttered curse came from behind him, the voice one he recognized. Benny twisted in place to watch a young man making his way across the grounds. Benny frowned when he saw Chase, Mason’s son, carrying a partial six-pack of mixed beers in his hand. Andy had brought Benny up to speed on the relationship between the boy who desperately wanted to fit in anywhere, and the man who threatened Benny’s life in a local restaurant. Not that Andy knew a single word of what went down with Mason, but it would be an encounter Benny would never forget.
Another reason to stick to the straight and narrow
, he thought, shivering as he remembered the weight of Mason’s displeasure.
An extremely compelling one
.

“Heey.” Only the slightest of slurs marred Chase’s voice as he stumbled over absolutely nothing, staggering the last couple of feet to the log. “Benny.” Chase leaned over to set down the lop-sided cardboard container of bottles; his body elaborately angled to keep his balance, and Benny felt a sadness sinking inside him. He was this kid at fourteen, drunk but holding tight to the illusion that no one noticed.

Benny had been able to fake things for a long while because the people who surrounded him either didn’t give a shit or wanted him wasted. He liked Chase, liked how the kid worked hard at learning how to play guitar. Worked hard at things his dad never knew about, like blending so as not to embarrass. Benny knew he could give Mason’s boy more than he’d gotten as a kid. Could give him better, let him know people gave a shit.
Call it like I see it. Like Andy would
.

“You’re drunk.” His words dropped into the stillness like a rock into a pool. “Not stupid drunk yet, not blackout drunk, but well on your way. And it shows if you look close enough. I’m looking, Chase.” Chase straightened and stared through the darkness at him, shadows hiding his expression. “I get it, the wanting to grow up and be what you see around you.” Chase’s head shook the slightest amount, and Benny wondered if he’d gotten it wrong, deciding to try a slightly different tactic.

“I get wanting to block shit out, and booze? Oh, man, booze is great at that.” Chase didn’t react to this gambit, and he knew he was probably hitting closer to home now. “Shit happens in our lives, and it’s easier to numb the shit out of it than think about it. Numb becomes a go-to response. Shit happens? We drink it out, pill it down, snort it away. Numb ourselves until we can be convinced that shit doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. But it does.” He leaned forwards, trying to emphasize his next words. “It matters even more at that point. This,”—he gestured to the beer—“it ain’t the right way, Chase.”

Benny paused, trying to compose his thoughts.
Make it real. Tell him what he’s got
. “You got a dad who gives a shit about you, Chase. Cares what happens to you, what’s happening in your life. He’s here, and he’s giving you room to be the man you need to be, but he gives a shit. More than gives a shit, he’s all over trying to be what you need. And he cares.” Mason did. Benny had seen the truth with his own eyes more than once. “If you’re struggling with something, you should talk to him.” Finally out of words, Benny sat quietly, waiting.

Tipping his head backwards, Chase stared up at the sky for a moment, staggering a step before he caught his balance and looked down at Benny again. Chase’s voice was tight when he muttered, “Mason. All I hear is Mason. I’ve only known him a couple years, did you know that? I saw him forty times total before my old lady dumped me on him. A man who never wanted kids, stuck with me, and I’m always just…”—he staggered again, dropping his ass to the log, finally—“in the way. Just in the fucking way. I’m a loser dragging him down. Not smart enough for real school because my ma kept me out almost all the time.” He leaned over, pulling a bottle from the container positioned precariously next to his foot. “I ain’t got nothing to offer him.

Chase struggled with the lid on the bottle, voice dropping to a near whisper. “First time I fucked up? He kicked me to the fuckin’ curb.” Chase’s head came up, and he abandoned his efforts to open the bottle, inclining his body towards Benny, yelling, “Right to the mother. Fuckin’. Curb. Muthafuckin’ curb.” Clapping his hands together, he lost his hold on the beer, and it fell to the dirt, the condensation on the sides turning it to mud, a thick layer covering the bottle. “Fuck.” Chase looked down at the bottle as if it were unfamiliar. “One strike and I’m out? That’s jacked, man. I wanted back in so bad, do anything. Tried hard. Got beat down every time. Jacked. Muthafuckin’ curb.” He gestured wildly with one arm. “Well, fuck that. And fuck him.”

“Chase.” Benny leaned over, picking up the bottle and wiping it casually with his fingers before slotting it back into the six-pack holder. “I think you’ve got it entirely wrong.” Chase shook his head, but Benny continued. “Lemme break it down for you. You might not remember it all tomorrow,” he grabbed a bottle of water from the stash Lucia had brought him earlier and pressed it into Chase’s hand, “but if you remember even a little of it, you’ll be better off than you are now.” He nabbed the beers and put them on the other side of the log, away from the fire and light.
Out of sight, out of mind. Yeah, right.

“Mason thinks a lot of you. So much, I’d have never known you weren’t raised by him. He’s so easy and comfortable with you. Loves you, man. Clear as day. I don’t know what kind of relationship he had with your mom, but I know what he has with you.” Cradling his guitar, he strummed the strings softly. “I don’t think he sees you as a fuck-up. Certainly not a loser. He loves you. Your mom doesn’t sound like the sharpest stick, man. You sure she got the details right?” He fell into a well-memorized rhythm; an old Occupy Yourself song he’d written about himself.

Humming, he picked up the melody’s thread, nodding when Chase started mouthing the words. “Queen of what you hated.” All his life, his mother had been the queen of hearts in the hand dealt him by life. “Life gone wrong, no room for space.” She’d never had room for him. Not since he was a kid. Not since his daddy died. “Heels tottering in the nighttime.” Benny bowed his head, having seen his mother this weekend, even keeping his distance, he knew the words no longer fit her, but things were what they were when he was a kid, and that was what this song was.
The legacy of my childhood
. “Smears and fears of living, written on your face.”

Moving with jerky motions, he set the guitar aside, surprise on Chase’s face at his abandonment of the song. “That song’s for my mom, Chase. How she made me feel for a long time. I held onto the pain for…ever. Things happened, and she’s ashamed of them, and I’m ashamed of what I did, too. But my behavior isn’t her responsibility. It’s mine. And your mother doesn’t have one thing to do with you being drunk tonight.” Anger twisted Chase’s mouth to the side, and Benny knew he was losing whatever tenuous hold he had on the kid. “But for me, writing it out helped. Putting it to music helped. Singing it a million times? That helped, too. Until now.” He picked the guitar back up, threading the melody with his fingertips again. “Not anymore. Those words don’t hold any power over me.” Changing the melody, he gave it an upbeat rockabilly sound, the lyrics bounding out of his mouth.

“Because I was born into trouble. Oh yeah, I was born to be trouble.” Arm effortlessly strumming, he moved through the song. “My brother’s burden.” A voice lifted from the darkness, joining him and he grinned when he recognized Bear. “A burden no more. What’s the matter with trouble, brother?” Bear and another man walked into the clearing, carrying six-strings, playing the song, following the alters effortlessly. “My brother’s a beast, never gonna make his life a waste. Because I wasn’t born to be trouble. No, oh, no I wasn’t.” He grinned when Luce followed her dad into the clearing. Benny felt his chest get tight when she had eyes only for him. They’d gotten so close over the past weeks, and now she was as important to his life as breathing. Maybe more. “Lines were drawn, oh yes, they were. Plans were laid. My plans, they changed, because I’m a burden no more.”

She smiled broadly at him, then looked at Chase and made a face. Benny segued into another song he knew was a favorite for Bear and then let him lead their playing from there on. Lucia walked past him, fingertips trailing familiarly across the nape of his neck and he tipped his chin up, waiting until she leaned in and brushed her lips across his, glad that he had stopped trying to push her away.
Need you
, he thought, savoring her touch. Lifting an inch, she stared into his eyes for a moment and then, apparently satisfied at what she saw, moved to sit next to Chase where the boy immediately leaned into her, head on her shoulder. When she wasn’t watching, Chase’s eyes stayed fixed intently on her face, and Benny frowned, wondering what that was about.