“Melody… little Melly, was always the princess. She could do no wrong in my book and to be fair, I still think that,” I can’t help giving a little chuckle at that. It’s true, I will always think that girl hung the stars. “Whipcrack smart and showing her lumbering oafs of brothers up before she was out of diapers. She’s a grad student at NYU right now working her way toward some sciencey thing that I can never explain but she can for hours on end. She’s going to make the world better someday, hell she already has when it comes to Ma’s little clutch.”
“Brandon’s the youngest. He was an “oops” baby that showed up just after my tenth birthday. From day one that kid followed me around like the sun shone out my ass and I shat gold bricks. Whenever I stirred shit Brandon was right there behind me, keeping watch or getting up to his eyeballs in it too. Most older siblings hate having their little siblings hanging on them or following them everywhere. Not me; I loved every minute I spent with Brandon. Called him Shadow cuz he was always right there behind me, stepping on my heels. He had a wicked stutter when he was little, so whenever I was in the mood to be the shit older brother, I’d call him Bumble. Yeah, not the cleverest nickname, but it became my thing. Everyone knew him as Shadow… but he was always my Bumble-Mumble.”
“I joined the Knights of Mayhem MC after I got out of trade school; Mechanic, obviously. Brandon was always hanging around the Clubhouse with me and the Brothers, surprise, surprise. He prospected as soon as he graduated high school, literally walked from the stage to the Clubhouse. I tried to talk him into going to college or at least a trade school, something to let him be better than me, but he was stubborn as a fuckin’ mule. He was patched a year later, and I don’t think I have ever felt more proud, or ashamed, in my life. I had hoped for better for him, God knows I got up to plenty of nasty shit with the Club, but it meant I got my little Shadow back full time.”
“The club in Jersey was into a lot shadier shit than the Sons. They ran guns, drugs, women, honestly anything you can think of. I have always been on the guns side of things; just worked out that way. Brandon ended up working closely with some of the drug dealers and ended up working distribution more often than not. This meant he spent a lot of time on the road going back and forth to Miami to pick up supply. I should have seen it sooner, but he was gone four days every seven, so it was hard to keep up. On paper, we had rules against dipping into the product; Drugs, women, cars, anything. Very few of the Brothers followed that particular guideline all the time, staying just on the edge of discipline, but some took it a little too far,” I pause taking a breath.
I guess I’m going to do this, can’t stop now.
“Brandon started using, I don’t know exactly when, but by the time I noticed he was pretty far down the path. He always swore he was in control, that he had it handled; always told me not to worry. I shouldn’t have listened to him. But I convinced myself it was fine. I always saw him having a good time around the Club, wrote it off to him living it up, being young and dumb- just a phase. To be honest, I never saw him out of control, I never saw him doing anything outside of a party with friends or Brothers. I should have seen it though. I should have noticed the shakes, the random disappearances. But I should have noticed it when the marks weren’t just in his arms anymore. I should have checked on him more, especially when every one of his runs started showing up short a brick.”
My voice breaks and I feel myself collapse even further into myself, my shoulders slumping under the weight of all my shit. Tessa hasn’t moved a muscle the entire time, but she must notice the change in me because I feel her crawl over and wrap herself around my back. Her arms come around my waist, her cheek resting against my shoulder, and I feel her press a soft kiss there. Closing my eyes, I let her warmth sink into me for a moment. I set my hand on her forearm, acknowledging her presence and the comfort she is offering. I let my head drop completely as silent tears finally break through and run down my face. The memory hits me like a brick wall.
The asshole was late for church. You don’t fuckin’ do that. No one does that unless they are dead or dying. I had seen him partying with a couple girls at the compound last night and figured he was passed out and sleeping off the hangover. The last fuckin’ thing I wanted to do today was drag my ass out to the shitty end of town, to his shit hole apartment, and drag his sorry ass out of bed. Probably going to have to untangle him from a whore or two while I’m at it. Pulling up out front of his place I roll my eyes at the crumbling building. How many fuckin’ times did I have to tell him to move outta this shit hole before he’d finally listen?
Walking up the crumbling front steps, I noticed the lock on the front door was busted again. I don’t know why the landlord even bothered fixing it anymore, the gang bangers just break the damn thing every time. I walked into the lobby and was immediately hit with the stench of unwashed humans, piss, and rot.
Good job baby bro, so proud you live in a fuckin’ trash heap.
Walking past the elevator, I don’t even bother trying it, pretty sure that thing hadn’t been operational since before he was born.
I started tromping up the stairs, my heavy boots clomping loudly on the squeaky wooden treads. Five fuckin’ floors up. This asshole had better have four fuckin’ porn stars in his room to make this shit worth it. I jumped over the broken step halfway up the third flight. How many times have I biffed it completely on that stupid step, trying to drag his drunk ass home?
Man, when was the last time I made it out here? The compound would be so much better for him. I really should just drag his ass back there and get him cleaned up. I wonder if I can get the Club to front some mechanic schooling for him.
I arrived at his door, slightly winded from the stale and rancid air; I gave it a pound with my fist. The fucker never made me a key, ‘cuz why would he? Why bother making it so I could get in without busting down the damn door? He didn’t answer after the first round of knocking so I tried again, yelling his name this time.
“Shadow! Come on you lazy fuckhead; answer the door.” more pounding. More shouting. Nothing in response. I waited a bit and listened to see if I could hear anything inside the apartment. Silence. Goddammit, that fucker must be well and truly passed out. I pounded on the door again, kicking it with my boot for an extra deep knock. Still nothing.
Ah fuck it, I’m gonna take him away from here anyway.
I stepped back, bracing my hands on either side of the frame and kick just above the handle, the door folds like paper. I stormed into the room and pulled up short, finding the room completely empty and still; nothing like the usual aftermath present. All the furniture, all the shit on the walls, everything was gone except a stained mattress in the corner of the living room. The little island in the kitchen blocked the view into the living room so I could only see one corner of the thing on the floor beyond. The second thing to hit me was the stench. Unwashed dumpster fire was the best phrase I could put to it, I had to concentrate on keeping my stomach where it belonged as I involuntarily retch against the stench.
Taking another step into the apartment I looked around, confused at what’s happened. “Come on Bumble, get your ass up fucker,” I called out, walking around the island to look into the living room. A shadow on the mattress catches my eye…