hightail it before the shit goes down. It’s a dangerous job, but a club whore will do anything to gain clout.
The van pulls away from the c urb and I peer out the window, ready to go. Its midnight on a Wednesday and the roads are bare. We round the corner and the Rolling Bones club comes into view. Blood rushes in my ears. I slide open the window and stick the barrel out.
They made the mistake of thinking they’re untouchable. It’s an assumption they’ll pay for in blood. I can see one of the bait bitches at the gate, distracting the guard. A loud crack sounds and he falls. Must’ve been Sniper.
She totters to the gate on tall as s heels and pulls it open.
The rest passes in a blur as we unload on the group standing outside. The smell o f gunpowder singes my nose, while sweat runs down my forehead and back. The heat in the small space is stifling. Metal pings as they return fire. Our tires spin on the pavement as we do donut and ride for the gate. A bullet shatters the window above my head, raining down glass and I hit the floor. My shoulder slams up against the side of the van. I grunt as the ass end of the van sways.
My ph one starts to buzz in my pocket and I dig it out. “Yeah?”
“Fuck, Danny , shit is bad. There’s blood all over and I can’t get him to stop bleeding.” My brother’s panicked voice hits me like an Antarctic blast. Dallas is never scared.
“Who?” I ask.
“Dad. They hit him in the stomach. Jesus shit. We need a hospital now.”
I sit up, terrified. My father is larger than life. He can’t be taken down l ike this. “Who’s driving?” I ask, suddenly all business.
“Wizard, I asked him to pull over and administer, but he said we didn’t have the time. I’m applying pressure, but there’s blood everywhere.” His voice shakes .
I close my eyes. Wizard used to be a medic in the Army, so he k nows his shit—this sounds bad.
I hear the coughing wheezing and my stomach plummets.
“Dad, no you can’t leave. Hang in there.” Dallas sounds desperate and my father sou nds like he’s on death’s door.
I hear him cough and the death rattle begins to play. I’m going to listen to my father die as my brother comes unhinged. All the things left unsaid between us, plays in my head like a film. Guilt sits on my chest like a boulder. There’s nothing I can do. No words of comfort I can offer when my soul is being ripped in two. An unnatural quiet falls and I hear Dallas release a broken sob. I clutch the phone like a lifeline. “Is he?” I whisper.
“Dad’s gone, he’s just fucking gone.”
An anguished wail from my brother echoes in my ear. What would happen to my family now?
The answer is something I never would’ve imagined. Dallas shuts down. The light went out behind his eyes and he retreated inside himself. If you weren’t Cora or R, he didn’t want to see you, and he refused to talk about planning revenge or accepting the role of President. Everyone assumed he just needed time, so we gave him space.
We hold my father’s funeral a w eek later, dress him in his cut and give him a spot in the Wesson plot.
Standing beside Rowan, I’m numb. There’s a church meeting afterward, but all I can focus on is the mahogany box that holds the shell of my father. I know he’s not really in there, but it guts me to see him lowered six feet deep. Rowan squeezes my hand and I cling to her. Right now, she’s my anchor, keeping me from drifting away in the vicious storm that has descended and will forever change the face of Wesson.
Dallas steps forward with his arm around Cora and tosses in the first hand full of dirt.
The thud on the coffin makes me flinch. I’m not ready to say goodbye. Despite the tiny child throwing a tantrum inside, I step forward and play my part. Because in this life, that’s what you do. Place one foot in front of the other, moving forever forward no matter what’s thrown in your way. I step back and the roar of engines revving fill my
The van pulls away from the c urb and I peer out the window, ready to go. Its midnight on a Wednesday and the roads are bare. We round the corner and the Rolling Bones club comes into view. Blood rushes in my ears. I slide open the window and stick the barrel out.
They made the mistake of thinking they’re untouchable. It’s an assumption they’ll pay for in blood. I can see one of the bait bitches at the gate, distracting the guard. A loud crack sounds and he falls. Must’ve been Sniper.
She totters to the gate on tall as s heels and pulls it open.
The rest passes in a blur as we unload on the group standing outside. The smell o f gunpowder singes my nose, while sweat runs down my forehead and back. The heat in the small space is stifling. Metal pings as they return fire. Our tires spin on the pavement as we do donut and ride for the gate. A bullet shatters the window above my head, raining down glass and I hit the floor. My shoulder slams up against the side of the van. I grunt as the ass end of the van sways.
My ph one starts to buzz in my pocket and I dig it out. “Yeah?”
“Fuck, Danny , shit is bad. There’s blood all over and I can’t get him to stop bleeding.” My brother’s panicked voice hits me like an Antarctic blast. Dallas is never scared.
“Who?” I ask.
“Dad. They hit him in the stomach. Jesus shit. We need a hospital now.”
I sit up, terrified. My father is larger than life. He can’t be taken down l ike this. “Who’s driving?” I ask, suddenly all business.
“Wizard, I asked him to pull over and administer, but he said we didn’t have the time. I’m applying pressure, but there’s blood everywhere.” His voice shakes .
I close my eyes. Wizard used to be a medic in the Army, so he k nows his shit—this sounds bad.
I hear the coughing wheezing and my stomach plummets.
“Dad, no you can’t leave. Hang in there.” Dallas sounds desperate and my father sou nds like he’s on death’s door.
I hear him cough and the death rattle begins to play. I’m going to listen to my father die as my brother comes unhinged. All the things left unsaid between us, plays in my head like a film. Guilt sits on my chest like a boulder. There’s nothing I can do. No words of comfort I can offer when my soul is being ripped in two. An unnatural quiet falls and I hear Dallas release a broken sob. I clutch the phone like a lifeline. “Is he?” I whisper.
“Dad’s gone, he’s just fucking gone.”
An anguished wail from my brother echoes in my ear. What would happen to my family now?
The answer is something I never would’ve imagined. Dallas shuts down. The light went out behind his eyes and he retreated inside himself. If you weren’t Cora or R, he didn’t want to see you, and he refused to talk about planning revenge or accepting the role of President. Everyone assumed he just needed time, so we gave him space.
We hold my father’s funeral a w eek later, dress him in his cut and give him a spot in the Wesson plot.
Standing beside Rowan, I’m numb. There’s a church meeting afterward, but all I can focus on is the mahogany box that holds the shell of my father. I know he’s not really in there, but it guts me to see him lowered six feet deep. Rowan squeezes my hand and I cling to her. Right now, she’s my anchor, keeping me from drifting away in the vicious storm that has descended and will forever change the face of Wesson.
Dallas steps forward with his arm around Cora and tosses in the first hand full of dirt.
The thud on the coffin makes me flinch. I’m not ready to say goodbye. Despite the tiny child throwing a tantrum inside, I step forward and play my part. Because in this life, that’s what you do. Place one foot in front of the other, moving forever forward no matter what’s thrown in your way. I step back and the roar of engines revving fill my
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