Chapter Nineteen
Make Me a Believer
Kennedy
I wasn’t trembling anymore, not outwardly. Inside, I felt like a snow globe that had been shaken too hard. The pieces would land someday, but they sure didn’t seem in any hurry now.
Exhaustion had only been a word in my vocabulary before today. I’d never exerted myself the way I did beating on Royal Crowe.
I sat across from him at his mother’s kitchen table, unsure if I wanted to pick up the butterknife and bury it in his eye socket or trust him. His own mother stared at him like she didn’t know him anymore, when he started spewing their bullshit plan to unseat my father.
“He thinks of you all as his brothers,” I coldly reminded him.
Roy gave a heavy nod.
“He’d do anything for you guys. Literally, nothing would be too much to ask. He’d move mountains and ruin lives to protect your sorry asses.” I had to stop myself before the venom flowed freely.
He was helping me, after all.
I scoffed and tore my gaze away, unable to look at him anymore.
“Call him again,” his mother, Penny, urged. “Call your father.”
“His phone is off. It’s gonna stay off until the smoke clears. This isn’t his first rodeo.”
“How do you know that?” Penny asked, but her weary gaze told me she knew full well how.
“It’s basic, Mom.”
“‘Basic?’” The word hung between the two of them, her expression an open plea for understanding.
“You don’t keep your cellphone on when you’re committing felonies. You don’t take it with you, don’t keep the battery in it, and you damn sure don’t use the thing to talk about what you did.” Royal shrugged, “I’ve known that since I was old enough to tie my shoe.”
“That’s the kind of shit he was teaching you back then, with his overnight visits?” she exclaimed.
He raised his brows, but made no other indication of having heard her.
“Call Kate,” she urged, her nail dancing off the table like she was onto something. “Kate would never–”
“Kate is in on it,” Royal whispered, his head dipping down until his forehead rested against the span of his hand.
“Of course, she is.” Penny’s lips thinned into a tight line.
“He doesn’t think it would have been suspicious as fuck, the club not being in conflict with anyone, and both of my dad’s children coming up dead?” I circled around once more, denial still kicking my ass.
“Kennedy,” Royal groaned, his hand dropping to reveal the most tortured eyes I’d ever stared into. “He has a sick sense of humor, alright?”
“Like what?”
I don’t know why I didn’t drop it or why I hadn’t fled already. Maybe it was because inside, I believed him more with every bout of denial Royal chiseled through.
“Just stop, okay?” He sighed, with a gentle shake of his head.
“You prevented my murder, and covered my brother's ass. I appreciate it, but it’s time to go home,” I announced.
“He wanted to kill you over your mother’s grave and make it look like a fucking suicide.” Royal mumbled.
My face contorted and my stomach heaved. I jerked my head up and darted my gaze around, fearful I was about to be sick.
“Kennedy,” Royal whispered, drawing my attention to the fact that he’d stood up.
I took a step back and sucked in a panicked breath.
His hands raised, and he pressed the air between us in a bid for peace, “I have no intention of hurting you, and I’m not going to let anyone else, either. But I need you to stay here. If they see you, they will finish it. I need to convince them that I already have, feel me?”
I gripped the back of my chair, drawing it between us as I digested his words.
“What in the world do you mean, convince them that you already did?” His mother blurted out for me, “You can’t fake someone’s death, Royal. This isn’t television! I can’t believe he dragged you into this bullshit.”
“I don’t know, alright!” he shot back, throwing his hands in the air, “I just need time to fucking think.”
“No. You need to go. You need to get on that bike and don’t even tell me where you’re going. Just, go and leave her with me. It’s not too late to step away from whatever the fuck this is,” Penny pleaded.
My mouth watered, my head spun, and I desperately gripped the chair.
I felt like shit, and I was having a hard time following the conversation buzzing around me.
“Are you okay?” Penny timidly asked after a time, her concerned hand finding my shoulder.
I blinked, and realized Roy had left the room.
It was the first time I really looked at Penny.
I knew her name, and I’d been in her house for what must have been nearly an hour already, but it felt like I was seeing her for the first time.
She wasn’t anything like Kate. Her blue eyes were kind, with little worry lines at the edges.
She wasn’t wearing any makeup. Her long, sandy-blonde hair was swept up in a lazy bun with long wisps fallen free to frame her face.
She wore a sleeveless, crocheted vest that spanned to her mid-thigh, distressed jeans, and an elephant-print tank top beneath it all.
She looked like someone’s therapist, not a former side piece of Birdman Crowe.
“I– uhm. I might need some uhm…” Speech seemed much more elusive than my racing thoughts, but I tried to focus on the words I needed. “They said my sugars go low...”
“Oh.” Her eyes widened with alarm and she quickly moved to her refrigerator and then the cabinet.
The front door slammed, and I jolted in my seat.
“He won’t hurt you,” his mother reassured, her hand finding the top of mine as she set the glass before me. “I don’t know what in the hell Birdman is scheming about, but I know my Roy.”
She shook her head as if such a thing simply weren’t possible. “He isn’t like them.”
I held onto her words, until my tongue and brain seemed capable of working together once again. I didn’t mean to lash out, but my sudden, unpredictable episodes of incapacitation, and all the uncertainty was eating me up inside.
“He fucking kidnapped me,” I blurted out, looking her dead in the eye.
She flinched hard, swallowed, and lowered her gaze. Her hand nervously fretted with the edge of the tablecloth as she sank down in her seat.
As soon as I said it, I felt terrible for taking it out on her. I focused on the drink, and blinked back hot tears, until the shaking started to subside.
“I– I’m sorry,” she whispered, and I could tell by her face that she was just as perplexed by all of it as I was. “If he says it is for your safety, though… Believe him. You don’t know Birdman like I do. You just don’t. No one does.”
Her voice never rose above a whisper, and yet, it trailed so low I had to lean forward to hear her last few words.
“He isn’t right, you know? Never has been… But this…” She sighed.
“And yet, you procreated with his sorry ass,” I pointed out, unable to help myself. Every time I opened my mouth, hatred and pain spilled unchecked.
“I was young. In truth, I was just blinded by what was once good looks, and swayed by the excitement of outlaw life. It was short-lived. The excitement and the relationship.”
“I can’t imagine why,” I mumbled into my juice glass, despite my determination to stay quiet
“He soured everything he touched,” she quietly admitted. “My self-esteem, my credit, and my reputation. I swore I’d never watch him poison our son with his bullshit, and yet, here I am. And there Roy is, with those miserable rockers sprawled across his back.”
She exhaled and shook her head.
I could tell she was on the verge of tears herself. It made me forgive her a little.
“Forty was right to tell Kate what was going on with us. If I was his wife, I would have wanted someone to tell me,” Penny began, her tone sounding distant, before she huffed and continued, “We were wrong. Dead wrong. I was young and it was a mistake. I take accountability for that now, but still… I wasn’t the one who owed Kate loyalty.
I also wasn’t the one who painted her as a psycho ex.
He told me they were divorced. I believed him, until the pregnancy test came back positive and the truth started coming forth.
He’s good at that, you know? Painting pictures and selling them.
You can’t believe a word he says about anyone.
He even turned me against my uncle, so Preach couldn’t figure out that I didn’t know the truth about him and Kate. ”
She grew quiet, as if she were deep in thought before she hesitantly furthered, “Kennedy, please listen to Roy. People have convinced me over the years that my vision of Birdman is fogged by fear. They point out that I admit he is a liar, and question me when I say he is dangerous. But… I don’t care what they say.
He has no value or use for human life, beyond his own.
He’s the ugliest soul I’ve ever met, and I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t be the first person he put in the ground.
He told me as much when we were together. I believed him then, and I still do.”
The door sounded again, causing us both to confront the sound.
“Don’t hush on my account.” Roy sighed, giving his weight to the door.
I rolled my eyes, not in the mood for nonsense.
“You could have avoided all of this, and just smiled back the night I came home.” he teased me.
I glared at him until he awkwardly laughed and shrugged, “I’m just saying, all I wanted was your time and a chance. Instead, you gave in to the one who wanted your death certificate signed.”
“Royal!” Penny exclaimed.
“Unless you got a corpse I can toss in that car, I’m going to need blood. A lot of it.” He ignored his mother, not taking his eyes off me.
“What the fuck are you on about?” I sighed, while side-eyeing the door.
“I need to make a mess of your car. I need to make it look like I shot you. I’ll tell them I got your body burning somewhere. They’re not going to take it to a crime lab. They won’t know whose blood it is.”
“What does that mean, Royal?” Penny exploded, “What the hell does that even mean– Whose? You’re not suggesting that you’re going to kill someone just to fake another person’s death. That’s ridiculous. This isn’t you, Royal. This isn’t the son I raised.”
“Funny. I thought you were always on about being good to women, and protecting those you love.”
Penny’s gaze slowly traveled from her son to me. I could feel the questions she didn’t lend air to, even if I had no idea why.
“What?” I glanced between them, only for Roy to clear his throat and rub his face with a hand.
“I just– I need to figure out where to get blood. Meat is good, for tissue imitation, but there isn’t enough blood in packaged or processed foods to–”
“Tomorrow is kill day at the butcher shop.” I tried to be helpful, even if I felt like I’d missed something.
“How do you know that?” He laughed, before shrugging off the information, “Don’t matter. They aren’t going to sell me a bucket of blood.”
“My friend is helping out there. Her boyfriend’s family owns the place, and she’s scheduled to package what he slaughters in the morning.”
He looked like he didn’t believe me, but damned if I was going to pull the phone from my bra and prove it.
He’d made a believer out of me, but I still wasn’t sure how far I should trust him.