Chapter Eight
Insufferably Ordinary
Royal
I awoke to a series of texts demanding I get to the Kids Center and do damage control.
Leave it to Kingston to fuck up before he even got started.
He was such a dramatic ass. No one was going to pull a coup on Forty Kal. My brother might have maintained a bit of a reputation in our small town as being cold and reckless, but he didn’t have the balls to smoke a woman we’d grown up with.
He just didn’t.
He and our father were both brawlers and movers who talked big and wild sometimes, but it didn’t really mean anything.
Well, most of the time it didn’t…
My stomach rolled as I tried to convince myself it was all bullshit while watching him ride off with her.
I sniffed, deciding that he’d only called me up here to rub it in my face that he’d gotten her where he wanted her.
“Great job, asshole. Now, if you can keep her there longer than a fuck or two, we’ll all be impressed,” I mumbled to myself as I pointed my bike toward Paxton’s house.
I needed to get away from the noise, and Pacman was usually good for it.
And who knew, maybe he could help me figure out what the fuck was going on between our dads.
Just as I suspected, I found him quietly tinkering under the hood of a car in his open garage. He must have been really concentrating, because he didn’t even lift his head to see who was approaching as I stepped inside and walked the length of his granddad’s old Monte Carlo.
“I can’t believe Bugs never sold this thing.”
“Oh, believe me, I know. I can’t believe my dad is still wasting his money and my time under this hood. I understand sentimental, but fuck… He doesn't even drive it. Nobody has since the day of the accident.”
I slowly nodded, while running my hand over the dust on the edge of the windshield, “She really loved this car. I remember.”
He slammed the hood and flipped one corner of his mouth up, “Yeah. She did.”
I rubbed the back of my neck, already regretting the direction of our conversation and yet, unsure of how to redirect him toward the one I needed to have.
His mom had died a few years ago in a hunting accident they’d taken together.
For the most part, he handled it well, but I was always uneasy when the topic came up.
Maybe a little piece of me knew that I’d be a wreck if I suffered a loss like that.
“So, what brings you to this neck of the woods?” he asked, nudging at a red toolbox with his toe.
I shrugged, and yawned. “Kingston and Kennedy did a thing at the Kids Center for the kids. Thought I’d show up and support them or whatever, but I guess I overslept.”
He laughed and shook his head, “Yeah? Me, too. I don’t give a damn if I was up before dawn, it wasn’t for entertaining other people’s rug rats.”
“Right.” I sighed, breaking into a smile. “You got one of your own to keep track of.”
“Damn straight,” Pacman grunted.
“What are you girls gossiping about?” Kingston piped up, drawing our attention toward the garage entrance.
I hadn’t even said anything about the plotting and big talk, but my heart still took off in a full gallop.
There was a hardness in his gaze that made my grin stiffen.
“Your mother and that sweet,” was all the further he had to go to rip Kingston’s icy gaze from me to him, but he still paused for effect, “Gooey butter cake. What’s up with that? Put in a word for me, I’m good for the cost of the ingredients.”
I couldn’t help the way my mouth twitched toward a smile. He always had possessed the ability to puppet Kingston’s temper.
“You got jokes today, huh? Motherfucker,” King grunted, giving a playful jab to Paxton’s ribs.
“Everyday.” Pax groaned from the love tap, “That’s what happens when you keep company with clowns.”
“Oh, you’re really on one today, huh?” Kingston laughed. “Since you got all that energy, how about you help me out with that painting gig I got over on Monroe tomorrow evening?”
My stomach soured so fast my mouth watered. I couldn’t take my eyes off my brother.
“Nah, I got a thing.” Paxton rubbed the back of his neck and caught his lower lip with his teeth before letting it go with an exaggerated sigh, “Yeah, I gotta walk the kid’s pet rock or something.”
My brother started to casually nod when it sounded like an honest refusal, but the shit about the pet rock left his gaze snapping back to Pacman.
Pac swatted Kingston’s arm hard enough to make him step backward a pace. “Fuck off, of course, I’ll help you. But I’m working the sprayer this time, asshole. Don’t think I’m gonna be in there with none of your little boy toys.”
He pinched his index and thumb together and pretended to paint the air with something the size of a toothpick.
Kingston gave a guilty laugh.
“Did I tell you this fuck had me painting with a brush that was barely big enough to cover the trim last time I agreed to help him,” Paxton exclaimed, the disbelief still evident in his tone, even if I’d heard the story a half dozen times already.
“Mhmm.” My voice sounded weird even to my own ears. I cleared my throat before finishing his tale “Then Kate walked in and he gave her a roller.”
“Yeah!” Paxton exclaimed.
“Alright. Alright. You can have the sprayer, but eh, send a few of the girls over early to tape everything off for us, would ya?” King caved.
Paxton widened his eyes and scoffed, “Unbelievable. I’m spraying, they're laying drapes and tapes… What the fuck are you doing, holding your dick in the corner or signing autographs, stud?”
King’s shoulder raised like he hadn’t yet decided.
“I’ll text you the address then?” He laughed.
“Bet.” Paxton saluted him with his chin and stopped fucking around. “Why are you waiting until the evening to paint it, though?”
“Chick is a nurse over in Centralia. Guess she works the night shift or whatever. She was hoping it’d air out a little before it was time for her to come home and sleep in the morning. Anyway, it’s a cash job. So…”
“Oh,” Paxton nodded like it made perfect sense, perking up at the mention of cash. “Right on.”
My face scrunched, but before I could point out how ridiculous his ventilation plans sounded, my brother elbowed me low in the ribs.
“Come on, Dad’s looking for you. He said something about a run up to Peoria or something.”
“Fuck that,” I scoffed, unable to contain the panic flooding through me.
Paxton curiously smiled and watched our interaction. I wasn’t afraid of Paxton’s reaction toward me if I disclosed their coup plans. We’d been friends since we were kids. I was terrified, however, of swaying one way or the other.
If I alerted him to any of it, King would tell our dad and I’d be dead. If I said nothing, I was a third to this fucked-up conspiracy, and likely to be killed by the club with our father if it went wrong.
I closed my eyes and took a deep, steady breath, before attempting to convert all my inner chaos into what would pass as frustration.
“I’m not sitting in a fucking car with him for two hours, just to stand through an auction of cars that are more trouble to fix than they’re worth. He only goes there because he thinks you and I will fix them up for free, off the clock.”
“He ain’t wrong.” Paxton laughed. “Birdman’s tight ass would pay a nickel an hour if they let him.”
I might not have spoken up often, but I knew what was going on around me most days. When it came to my father, his motives were usually pretty shallow, almost predictable at times. Business, or otherwise. So, the outrage was real.
“Tell him that.” Kingston grinned, tipping his head toward the street.
Betray my father, or my best friend.
It was torturous.
Saving his father meant killing my own. There was no fucking win in this, no safe road to choose from.
I didn’t know what to do, but my feet moved, my body carried me outside of the garage with a passing wave and I numbly mounted my bike.