One
Gabe
Fifteen years earlier
I read a sign once that said you were only one decision away from a completely different life.
That hit me hard.
So I made a fucking decision, and now we’d all have a completely different life. Me, Jorie, and Bump. Nothing would ever be the same after today.
As I walked past the barber shop, the duffel bag of cash hanging heavy in my grip, the TV inside blared about the storm closing in. In Biloxi, we didn’t get too excited about that shit. I didn’t give a fuck that people were saying this one was going to be a big one. If it was up to me, we’d be out of this town before it made landfall. That was, if it even really came our way at all.
Rain beat against my hat, dripping off to slide down the collar of my T-shirt. The T-shirt I’d never wear again, because I’d be dressing in better shit from now on. The cash in the bag was going to make certain of that.
I’d finally be able to get Jorie to LA, so she could cut a single in a real studio and get it to the bigwigs at the record companies. I’d conquer the city and build a club where she could perform while she soared on the charts. That was our plan. That had always been our plan.
She’d been quiet lately, and I knew it was because of how fucking tight money was. It was weighing on her. I’d seen the desperation in her eyes, and that’s why I did what I did.
I was done robbing Peter to pay Paul.
No, a voice in my head piped up. You just robbed Moses to get the fuck out of town and save Jorie before she does something stupid.
The rumble of a cammed-up ride had me dipping my head and turning the corner to duck into an alley.
Moses couldn’t have found out what I did yet. I gotta have at least a day or two to get ahead of this.
I already had a plan. I’d get home, we’d pack our shit, buy a car for cash, and be gone by sunrise without leaving a trail to follow.
The growl of the exhaust quieted as the car drove on down the road, but the custom license plate told me everything I needed to know about the driver.
BOSSMAN.
Moses’s personal ride.
No. He’s not looking for me. Stop thinking that shit. Still, I put some hustle in my step and bypassed the corner store and the flowers I planned on buying to surprise Jorie with when I shared the good news with her.
Get home and then get the fuck out of town. That was all I needed to do. We’d all be better off as soon as we hit the city limits.
When I made it to our shithole apartment complex, some wannabe gangsters sat outside with guns in their laps, like they were the fucked-up neighborhood watch.
They all lifted their chins in my direction, but thankfully their eyes stayed off the bag.
“What up, Gabe?” a kid from Texas asked. He went by Lonestar, but I didn’t know his real name.
“Not shit.”
“When you gonna quit playin’ at the gym and fight for real? I’ll take you on.”
I shrugged but kept walking. “Talk to me next week.”
His crew of boys hollered and hooted as I jogged up to our apartment on the fourth floor. It was only a one-bedroom, so I wasn’t surprised to see Bump on the couch with the TV on when I opened the door.
As much as I wished he’d apprentice to learn a trade or something, I’d rather have him working his eight-hour shift at the hardware store than hanging with those assholes out front. Beggars couldn’t be choosy, after all.
“You’re back early,” Bump said as his gaze dropped to the duffel. “What’s in the bag?”
“Where’s your sister?”
“Said she had to run a quick errand. Did you see the shit they’re saying about the storm? We’re gonna have to evacuate and go to a shelter. Hardware store is out of every fucking thing because people are freaking the fuck out. It’s like they’ve never seen a hurricane warning before.”
I remembered the last storm that changed my life forever, and how my mother wouldn’t budge until I lied to her about there being a hurricane party. I wasn’t doing that shit again. We were getting the fuck out of Biloxi.
“Pack everything that matters to you. We’re leaving before it hits.”
Bump’s eyebrows went up. “You really want to go to a shelter? I guess they’re saying it’s a mean one, so maybe it’s a good idea.”
I didn’t want to tell Bump the news before I told Jorie, so I let him think what he wanted. “Order a pizza, if they’re still delivering. Jorie’s favorite. We’re celebrating tonight.”
“Celebrating what?”
The surprised tone of his voice was all the evidence I needed to know that I’d made the right choice. We hadn’t had shit to celebrate in months. It was time for a different fucking life.
I shifted the bag to my shoulder. “I’ll tell you when your sister gets back. I’m hopping in the shower.”
“What about cash for the pizza?”
More than anything, I wanted to reach into the duffel and pull out a fat stack of bills and toss it to him—just to see his jaw drop—but that could wait.
I snagged my wallet instead and peeled off forty bucks. “Here. Make the call. I’m fucking hungry.”
As soon as I finished my shower, Jorie’s voice filtered in through the closed bathroom door.
“What do you mean, we’re celebrating? Gabe? What’s going on?”
I opened the door, a towel wrapped around my waist and the bag slung over my shoulder, and I grabbed her hands. “Come on. I gotta show you something.”
I pulled her into the bedroom and shut the door behind us. Her beautiful face screwed up in confusion.
“What’s going on? I’m not banging you right now. I need a shower too, you know. I hope you didn’t use up all the hot water.”
I shook my head and tossed the bag on the unmade bed. “I’m not trying to get laid, and you’re never gonna have to worry about running out of hot water again. I need to show you this.” With her hand tugging away from mine, I released her to unzip the duffel and looked at her.
Jorie’s eyes widened as she stared into the bag, and her mouth hung open as if it were on a broken hinge.
“What the fuck did you do, Gabe?” she whispered in horror as she began to tremble. “What the fuck did you do?”
The look of horror on her face was not what I expected. “I got us a future. Got us out of this fucking town. Just what you wanted. We’re going to LA. You’re gonna get your record made. I’m gonna build a club, and we’ll have the life you’ve always wanted.”
With her hand covering her mouth, she shook her head back and forth, almost in slow motion. “Gabe . . . what did you do?”
My excitement to tell her the good news drained away, and anger grew in its place. My hands landed on my hips, and I straightened my shoulders.
“I’m making shit happen because that’s what I do. I’m the one who takes care of this family, and we’re leaving. Before morning. Pack your shit. Everyone will think we’re evacuating because of the hurricane.”
“Leave? We can’t leave. We have a life here. Friends. Jobs.”
The panic in her voice didn’t make sense to me, so I brushed it aside.
“This isn’t the life we want, Jorie. We’re starting over. All three of us.” I pointed to the stacks of cash. “And this is how I’m making it happen.”