Chapter Thirty
Playing Along
Kennedy
My head throbbed, and everything felt funny, almost like I was in a dream. I don’t remember moving my feet, but I know I didn’t float out of that house.
My fingers were still wrapped around the money he’d forced me to take and Penny’s keys dangled from the opposite hand. It felt like I couldn’t draw a full breath, and each step seemed to make the sensation worse.
In my mind, I expected a shot to ring out at any minute.
It wasn’t until I’d pulled out onto the highway and put the pedal to the floor, that I finally accepted that I was free.
I’d played along. I’d survived!
I dialed Bootsie back up and laid the phone on my lap while I called out to her in a panic, “Get your fucking shit, I need you. I’ll pick you up in ten minutes.”
I didn’t give a damn if she told the world. I’d listened to every word my father said, and more. It may very well have been all in my mind, but I could have sworn I heard Kingston Crowe in the background.
Was he there to finish things?
I had no way of knowing, no way of predicting what I was walking into, but I knew I was going.
There wasn’t anything in this world or the next that could save Kingston from what I was about to deliver.
Bootsie was standing outside in a plain, brown, hooded jacket that was zipped to her neck. Her hands were stuffed in her pockets and her hair was pulled back into a tight bun. Her eagle-eyed gaze landed on me and she pounced on the passenger seat as soon as I slowed.
I hadn’t seen her look that formidable since our softball days, which was kind of what helped develop my plan. A smile snuck up on me, as I envisioned Kingston’s face. When my father’s house came into view, Bootsie unzipped the jacket and shrugged her way out of it.
I punched the brake at the last minute, barely avoiding the back of Kingston’s bike.
The vehicle had only just come to a stop, when I threw my seatbelt off and jumped out, leaving the engine to idle. Bootsie flung her seatbelt off as well, but the sight of the uniformed officers standing with everyone at the base of the front porch caused her to hesitate a bit.
“Ken–!” my father exclaimed.
Birdman stopped speaking and twisted around to see for himself.
I walks past the group of bikers and police officers like I didn’t even see them.
I entered the open garage, rounded the club Van and grabbed my old baseball bat from the simple rack that stored it and my father’s fishing poles.
I caught a glimpse of Kingston approaching through the East window.
So, I shot out the side, keeping the bat in an upward position so it was concealed against my upper arm.
It remained that way, even as my father, and an officer called out and waved for me to join them when I made it closer to my car. I knew I had to make every second count, so I swung at Kingston’s front headlight like I was aiming for Big Mac land at Busch Stadium.
The piece of it that I caught was so solid, even McGwire would have been proud.
The glass shattered, and pieces of metal shot across the road.
I caught the side of it with my next swing and landed a kick to the seat of the damn thing that toppled it.
The boldness of my actions seemed to have stunned the police into temporary inaction.
I knew it wouldn’t last. It had probably only been about three second since my meltdown started, just long enough for a flurry of ugly names, and idle threats hailed my way, while the Saints implored the police to do something and my father began to shout.
“Everyone, calm down. Goddamn it!” but it didn’t stop me from raining a few blows on Birdman’s bike. “Stand down!”
His demand grew louder as he raced along with the police. I danced around and between the bikes, putting as much distance between us as possible.
I wasn’t done with Birdman’s bike; the motherfucker was still drivable. I was determined.
Until that familiar, orange-and-black bike suddenly appeared before me in my dance.
A sudden clarity, or moment of madness, came over me.
If my father didn’t have a bike, he couldn’t lead his faithless flock.
I let loose with everything I had.
“You don’t need to fucking ride right now!” I roared, hoisting the bat out at my father.
The man looked absolutely perplexed.
It wasn’t his fault. He’d never seen me like this before. I’d never been placed in such a position before. If he wasn’t leading, they had no reason to kill him.
Something heavy collided with my back and Roy’s familiar arms wrapped around me. He hugged me off my feet and jerked me away from the bikes, and the approaching law enforcement. He held me in the sanctuary of his arms, preventing them from descending upon me in a frenzy.
“I got her,” he barked when an officer became too rough.
He jerked me and squeezed, forcing the air out of me, and shifting my concentration. The bat slipped from my fingers in the process and landed with a clank on the street.
“She’s not a threat!” he yelled, until they began to tug on him as well. “She’s not a fucking threat; she just lost her brother. She needs a hospital.”
I hated him for saying it, and when that cruiser pulled up under the Emergency Canopy at the county hospital, I was still cursing his name.