Steel Me Away (7 page)

J.

"Case man, what the fuck?"  J. reached out his hand and clasped his best friend by the forearm, lifting him from the camp chair.  "Let's take a walk."

"Yeah this party sucks anyway," Case muttered.  The girl named Hannah flicked her gaze up from her nails and rolled her eyes.

"Why're you being an ass?" It felt good to poke at someone else's anger.  It seemed to help diminish his own.

Case turned away from J., the muscle at his temple twitching and jumping.  He pressed his lips together, seemingly holding back a flood of words, and walked out into the evening light.  The skyscrapers glittered overhead, the only time J. didn't mind being in their shadow. J. followed, crossing his arms and waiting, knowing that his friend needed time to figure out what he wanted to say.  Seriousness did not come easily to Case.  Off color jokes and pointed insults were his main form of communication.

"So. Are you finally gonna stick around for a minute?" Case asked.

"What do you mean?"

"You've been flitting in and out of here without a care in the fucking world."

"Hey, you know I had to deal with my sister."

Case barked a short laugh.  "Sure.  You had to deal with her
right now
.  You've been ignoring her calls for weeks but suddenly today it's urgent you go over there?"

"What is your problem?"

"My problem is your lack of fucking focus here, Jeremiah."  Hearing his full name on Case's lips made J. stand up straighter.  "You're distracted.  Waltzing in and out of here like you're a tenant instead of a fucking brother."

J. pressed his lips together angrily, biting back the fighting words.  "Fine.  I'm distracted.  I'm here now though.  So tell me what's so fucking important."

Case regarded him coolly.  He searched his eyes as if looking for something, and then sighed when he didn't see it. "Okay, fine." He inhaled and J. leaned forward a little. "Let me say this first.  I like her. She's a good girl, hot as fuck too.  I'm happy for you."

"Thanks," J. answered warily.  "But?"

"Shit's gonna go down." Case leaned heavily against the side of the garage and winced.  He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a battered pack of cigarettes.  He mutely handed one to J. who looked down at it in surprise.

"Since when you smoke?"

"Since shit started going down," he snapped.  "A fact you've managed to avoid noticing. In the past week we've had two major security breaches.  Your thing with that fucking racist piece of shit," Case spat on the ground and J nodded at the gesture, "and then we had the cops sniffing around here looking for your girl.  Things are hot, hotter than they've been in years.  And I don't like having a spotlight shone on me.  You know how I feel about it."

J. nodded.  A child of the system, Case was acutely wary of the danger of letting people into your business.  To J. it meant prison time.  To Case, exposure meant getting ripped from your family and everyone you knew and loved and thrown into a turmoil that still haunted him to this day.  "Teach is working on it," J. reminded him.  "He'll get things with the Storm Riders worked out."

Case's jaw worked.  He threw his cigarette to the pavement and ground it viciously under his heel. "When CPS took us the first time, I promised my brothers I would never let us be separated again," he suddenly said.  J. was startled to hear him talk about his dark, desperate childhood.  "And the only way I could make sure we stayed together was if we stayed with my mother.  So I had to lie to the social worker.  I swore she didn't hit us.  I swore that she was a good mom and had never locked us outside over night.  That she just worked long hours and that's way she was never home, not that she disappeared for weeks on end, leaving the three of us in an unheated house over the wintertime." He let out a ragged breath.  "I had to cause myself pain, actual physical pain, in order to serve the greater good."  His eyes gleamed, but the tears stayed unshed.  "I lost them anyway," he choked.  "I weakened and I told the truth to a girl.  And then social services came and took my brothers, because I was weak."  He lit another cigarette and touched it to his lips.  "When I joined this club, it wasn't just a fucking lark for me.  I swore to protect it, swore that I was a brother now."  His voice caught.  "Again.  That I was a brother, again."  He looked at J. "I have to serve the greater good, even if it causes me physical pain." 

J. lit Case's cigarette with shaking fingers and inhaled deeply.  He wasn't a smoker, and that first breath made him cough.  The lightheaded buzz hit him quickly and he sat down heavily on the pavement outside the garage.  The sun was nearly set now.  It felt like a lifetime ago that he had woken in the country.  With Emmy in his arms. 

  The two men silently smoked, inhaling so quickly their cigarettes crackled. J. nearly jumped out of his skin when Teach appeared at his elbow. 

"You sober?" his mentor asked, keeping his voice low.

"Yeah Teach," J. straightened up and looked down at the smaller man.  The purple wound on his cheek shone shiny and wet looking and J. felt his stomach convulse at the sight.  He tried to wrench his gaze away and look Teach in the eyes, but when he finally found the strength, Teach had already looked away from him.

"Club meeting. Five minutes." he barked to group, his dreads swinging across his chest as he shot significant looks at each of the Sons.  "Crash, get rid of 'em."

Crash pulled himself away from Lupe with a wet smacking sound and cupped her ass firmly in his hand.  "Keep it warm for me, baby," he leered.

"You're leaving?" she pouted prettily.

"No sweet thing," Crash grinned.  "You are."

Hannah looked up from picking her nails.  Her bored expression had changed to one of relief.  "Let's get out of here, Lupe," she sneered.  "I thought you said these guys were fun."

"We could have some fun, " Crash smiled and grabbed his crotch.  "Three times the fun."

Hannah looked momentarily interested, but Case took that moment to stub out his cigarette and assume his responsibilities.  "No women at club meetings, ladies," he barked as he rounded back into the garage.  "You gotta get the hell out."

"I'll call you later," Crash winked.  "Both of you."

Hannah looked pleased, but Lupe pouted.  "Call me first," she simpered and shrieked giddily when Crash smacked her ass as she walked away.

Allison emerged from the kitchen, carefully balancing a handful of drinks.  "Hey, what the fuck?" she called when she saw her friends leaving.

"Party's over ladies," Case barked, clapping his hands like a schoolteacher.  "Out, out out."

J. grinned at the shocked and scandalized reactions of the girls when Emmy emerged from the kitchen.  She was carrying two drinks.  One for her and one for him, he suddenly realized. 

"Fuck," he sighed.

"Yeah," Case agreed.  "Want me to be the heavy?"

J. was momentarily tempted.  It would certainly be easier to just hang back and let Case throw her out.  "Naw man, I gotta tell her.  Not sure where she's gonna go though."

"She can sit in the office, long as she keeps the door closed," Teach piped up and J. felt a rush of gratitude.

Emmy sidled up to him and slipped the drink into his hand.  "Is the party over already?" she asked, taking a sip of her cup.  There was a note to her voice that he couldn't quite place as happy or sad.

"Em, is there anywhere you can go?" he blurted, then cursed himself.  He knew very well that she didn't.  Why the fuck did he have to poke that wound?

She looked at him sharply over the rim of her cup, but deliberately finished the sip of her drink.  "Actually no, J." she hissed sarcastically when she was through.  "I pretty much don't.  Thanks for asking."

He deserved that sarcasm.  He knew he did.  But he didn't have time to hash out all the reasons why.  The meeting was going to start very soon.  He could see the rest of the Sons gathering in the corner of the garage.  Doctor D. was dragging a folding chair across the cement floor, its metal shrieks echoing off the high ceiling.  J. could feel their impatience.  He should be over there already.

"I'm sorry," he replied hastily.  "I shouldn't have said that."  She huffed her acknowledgment and he pressed on.  "You need to get out of here though.  Club meeting.  Teach says you can wait in the office."

"You're kicking me out?"  It wasn't so much a question as a bland statement of fact.  And she didn't seem upset so much as disappointed. 

And that made him angry.  "I'm not kicking you out, I just told you, you can go sit in the office.  Just close the door."

"And do what, wait for you to be done?"

J. heard the tapping of a booted foot on the ground. Impatiently he spat back at Emmy.  "Yeah.  Wait.  What's the problem, did you have some other plans I didn't know about?"

The minute he said it, he regretted it.  Her blue eyes widened in shock at the low blow, but J. couldn't help her now.  "Emmy, just fucking go wait for me already.  You're lucky Teach is even letting you be in the building right now."

"That's just it, right?  You're
letting
me stay here.  Fuck," she laughed bitterly.  "Nothing has fucking changed."

"You stop that shit," J. growled.  "Don't you fucking lump me in with that asshole."

"And why not?" Emmy's voice was shaking.  Two spots of color flamed in her pale cheeks.  J. recognized the air of trapped desperation.  He hadn't seen it since he'd taught her to fight.  He looked down at her tiny hands and grimaced when he saw they were balled tightly at her sides.  He wondered briefly if she was about to hit him, but instead she just laughed hysterically.  "I took back control of my life from one guy only to hand it over to another." She shook her head, her platinum hair falling loose and unnoticed into her face.  "What a fucking joke I am.  How pathetic can I get?"

"You
stop
that shit," J. hissed again and shot a look over to where his brothers sat.  Case raised an impatient eyebrow and J. felt his fury rise.  All he wanted to do was have her leave the fucking room, how hard was that? "Just go.  Find someplace else to be for the time being."

She sniffed back her tears and straightened her shoulders.  J. waited for her to fight him again.  Instead she stalked stiffly to the bunkhouse. 

She emerged seconds later with her pack on her back. 

Emmy

Isn't there anywhere else you can go?

The intelligent part of me knew I was being crazy. The rational side shouted at me to calm down.

But the panicky part, the traumatized, protective part of me was shouting louder.  And the stubborn, prideful part drowned out everything else.

I wanted to run, to hide.   I wanted to find a place that was mine and mine alone, a place where I could belong.  A place that felt normal to me.  A place where I could regroup and figure out what the hell I was going to do next.

The front office was dark, but I knew where the phone was.

I picked it up and considered my options. 

Sammie was gone back to her home in Upstate New York.  It would be five hours before she could come get me.  I knew she would, but I couldn't wait that long.

The only other people I knew who would come for me were the last people on earth I wanted to see.  But I was broke and alone, and had no one else to turn to. 

I dialed the number I knew by heart.

"Hello?"

I didn't recognize the voice that picked up the phone.  It wasn't my father's rum-soaked drawl, nor was it my mother's pinched, nasal whine.  This was a smooth baritone rumble that would have been comforting if it wasn't so startling to hear.  "Who is this?"

"Em?  It's Andy."

My mouth fell open.  My little brother didn't sound so little any more.  I swallowed at the realization of how much had changed since I'd left. 

Andy had been a scrawny late-bloomer, always the smallest kid in his class, always the high, piping voice in the background.  He had made up for his size by being the hardest scrapper in his school, ready for a fight even and especially if his opponent was bigger than him.  He was constantly on suspension for bloodying someone's nose.  And then my dad would bruise his backside, using his size as an advantage over his own son. 

"If I'm going to get beaten, it may as well be worth something," Andy had informed me the first time we picked him up from the police station.  The charges of theft and vandalism had been dropped as it was his first attempt and the shopkeeper knew us from church.  But it was the first of many, and Andy soon grew into an accomplished petty thief, keeping just below the radar of the law.  The more he stole, the better he got, and the better he got, the more my father hated him.  At fifteen years old and still as tiny as ever, Andy Hawthorne had had enough.  He started punching my father back.

The last fight before I left for college had ended with me throwing myself in between them.  If I hadn't, they probably wouldn't have stopped until one or the both of them were dead.

But now the voice on the phone was that of a grown man.  My guilt over leaving, always poking at the back of my mind, flared to life.  I hoped against hope that my father no longer saw him as an easy target. 

"Holy shit, Andy," I breathed into the receiver.  "I didn't recognize your voice."

"I barely recognized yours," he replied pointedly and I swallowed.

"Andy, I'm sorry."  A lie sprang to my lips but I pushed it back down again.  That wasn't me anymore.  I was living my truth no matter how badly it hurt.  "I needed to get away.  You would have too if you could."

"So why're you calling?"

I pressed the back of my hand to my mouth, choking on the words.  "Because I need to come back."

Andy still was dubious.  "Why?" He didn't sound so much like a man anymore.  More like the teenager he was.  Petulant.  Confrontational. I inhaled deeply and steadied myself against the counter.  I could hear the Sons moving in the garage behind me.  I had to leave before J. found out and tried to stop me.

Or worse, if he saw me go and didn't stop me.

"I have nowhere else to go," I choked into the receiver.

There were a few moments of silence.  I could hear the hum of the line and Andy's slow breath.  A bell sounded tinny in the background and I recognized the chime of our old mantle clock.  That sound had tolled away the hours of my childhood, a constant reminder of how time raced forever forward.  I liked to put my ear to the face and listen to the low mechanical hum of the innards, the whir and growl when it prepared to strike the hour was just as familiar to me as the chime itself.

I waited through the silence.  I could hear him there, his breath as slow and steady as it was when we would camp out in the yard in those peaceful summer nights.  The memory calmed me before his words did. 

"Okay Em," he rumbled in his new voice, sounding like a man once more.  "I'm coming for you.  Just tell me where to go."