17. Where There’s Smoke #2
"Fuck! Let me try!"
I gasp, freezing in the hallway as voices echo from the front of the bar. There shouldn't be anyone here. Not today. Everyone is at the bonfire. Oh my God...are we getting robbed?
Letting out a soothing breath, I quickly lower Santa's sack and tiptoe further down the hall, my hand on my phone. Craning my head around the corner, I squint, vaguely making out two lanky figures hovering in front of the Clubhouse side door.
"This isn't fucking working!" One of the boys kicks the door, cursing as he grabs his leg. "Fuck! That's fucking steel or something."
"We gotta keep trying!" The other boy grunts, inserting metal tools into the lock. "We can't leave until?—"
"Until what, Zack?" Boy one smacks the reinforced door. "This is fucking steel!" He waves his arms around. "It's all fucking steel! Dante’s an idiot. He should've known that!"
"Shut up, Carlos!" Zack winces, looking around.
Carlos snorts. "He's not here, you little bitch." He sighs. "Let's just fucking go, okay?"
"We can't leave!" Zack grumbles. "Dante said we need to—" He pauses as Carlos walks over and picks up a— My eyes widen. A jerrycan. Oh no... "What are you doing?!"
Carlos starts pouring gasoline on the floors of Jesse's bar. "This is the closest we'll get."
"But Dante said?—"
"I don't give a fuck what Dante said," Carlos barks, tossing the oil. "Maybe it'll carry over to the?—"
They can't do this. They can't set fire to Jesse's bar. This is legacy. This is his baby. My fingers tingle as I size up the boys. They can't be older than sixteen. They're just kids. They're just?—
"Ready to run?" Carlos asks, pulling a lighter from his pocket. Zack nods slowly, and I do something that will surely stay with me for life.
"Stop!" I yell, hand clenched around the pistol as I storm into the room.
Both boys gasp, faces paling. As I walk closer to them, my heart sinks.
Gosh, they're young. I can't believe I'm pointing a gun at teenagers.
"Place the lighter on the floor and kick it over.
" The boys don't utter a word, glancing at each other.
I raise my voice. "Now!" Still no response.
I regrip the gun. "Do as I say, or else y'all be limping home, understood? "
"Do it," Zack whispers in what he thinks is a quiet voice. "Dude, fucking drop it. I don't want to get shot! Carlos!"
Carlos's jaw tightens in defiance. "This bitch ain't gonna shoot us." He takes a ballsy step forward, and I immediately blow a round off into the ceiling. I wince. Sorry, Jesse. Carlos swallows, quivering. "Umm..."
"On the floor," I say again. Carlos slowly crouches down, placing the lighter on the ground. "Very good, now kick it over." As Carlos stands up, I catch the darkest gleam of contempt in his adolescent eyes. "No, don't?—"
Before my words reach his troublemaking ears, a gun appears in his small inexperienced hands, and he fires a shot. The bullet flies through the air and hits a bottle on the liquor shelf. I duck behind the counter, blood thrumming with fear and adrenaline.
"What are you doing?!" Zack screams. "Let's fucking go!"
"Fuck this bitch!" Carlos continues to fire off shots that soar through the bar. I wince, covering my ears, praying to God almighty that the kid doesn't magically gain accurate aim. "Fuck you!"
"Dude, let's go," Zack begs in between shots. Nine. That's nine rounds. I expel a breath of relief, my shoulder relaxing. "Come on! Let's fucking go."
With shaking hands, I listen to their disappearing footsteps as they run out of the bar. They're gone. It's fine. They're gone. Breathe. Just breathe. Two distant engines roar to life, and my head pounds from the noise.
"Savannah! Fuck! Savannah!" Jesse's voice trembles with fear as he runs toward me. "Savannah! Christ—" With a white face, he cups my cheek, concern oozing from every pore as he scans my body. "Are you hurt? What happened?" He looks around the bar, frazzled. "How did they...who..."
"Jesse!" I leap into his arms, squeezing his body with my might.
"Oh my God, I'm so glad you're here." I pull away, unable to catch my breath as I ramble, "I was getting ice, and then I heard noises, and there were these kids.
They were kids, Jesse! And they were trying to get into the club, and then one of them started pouring gasoline everywhere, and they were gonna set everything on fire, and I couldn't let that happen because this.
..I know how much this place means to you, so I tried to—" I gasp, guilt seeping in.
"I pulled a gun on kids! What kind of?—"
"Shh...slow down. It's fine. You're fine." Jesse strokes my hair, keeping his composure, but I can see the anger brewing in his gaze. "Let's get you out of here, okay?" He loops his arm around my waist, helping me to my feet. "Careful with the glass."
"They were just kids," I mutter, tearing up from the sheer sadness of that statement as Jesse guides us through all the shrapnel and broken bottles to the parking lot. "They were kids, Jesse."
"What the fuck happened?" Billy shouts over the rumbling of too many engines to count. "We heard shots! Is that Savannah?!"
"Savannah!" Beau's voice overpowers Billy as he runs toward me. "Are you okay?" He glares at Jesse. "What the fuck happened here?"
"Vipers." Jesse's nails dig into my skin, his voice laced with venomous disgust. "I fucking told you we shouldn't have?—"
"Vipers?" I ask, distraught. "Those kids were Vipers?"
"It's sort of their thing," Beau explains, features twisting into a reaction parallel to my own. "We've come across a few as young as ten."
"Ten?!" My heart sinks.
"Don't worry, Savannah." Billy gives me a stoic nod. "We've got Tiny and Jimbo on their tail. They won't get far."
"You won't..." I swallow, glancing at Jesse. "They won't hurt them, right?"
Jesse frowns, almost offended. "Of course not, Savannah."
"What are you going to do?—"
"You should take her home," Billy interjects. "We'll deal with this." He tosses Jesse a set of car keys. "Take my truck. She shouldn't ride like this."
"You know this isn't over, right?" Jesse grunts, catching the keys with one hand. "They're gonna?—"
"Later," Billy says in a clipped tone. His expression softens as he looks at me. "You did good, kid. It's over now, okay? Go get some sleep."
"Okay..." I mutter, unsure of what to make of this situation.
Why are the Vipers attacking The Sons? Why were they trying to get into the club? What do they want ?
"I'm sorry, Sav," Beau whispers as Jesse and I walk to Billy's truck. "I'm so sorry."
"You should've called me, Savannah," Jesse says, helping me into the passenger's seat. He reaches across for the seatbelt, sighing as he buckles me in. "Why didn't you call me?"
"They were just kids," I mutter, staring out through the windshield. "I didn't think?—"
"I know a good psychologist I can take you to tomorrow," Jesse says, gaze flitting across my sullen features. "You should talk to someone." He pauses, swallowing. "Or we can go now if?—"
"I'm not in shock, Jesse," I whisper, unable to look at him. "I'm just...I'm just confused."
The drive back to Jesse's is silent, but the ringing in my ears doesn't fade. The images of two teens with guns don't fade. Carlos's face—his young, naive, and impressionable face—is all I see. Such anger. Such pain. They're too young to know this life.
Who does this?
My brain doesn't shut off. It can't. Because I can't rationalize it. I can't wrap my head around the why. Why use kids? Why destroy a life that hasn't even started? For money? For power? That's not an excuse.
"I'll be in my room if you need anything, okay?" Jesse hovers in the door frame as I quickly change into my jammies. "Do you need anything? Water? Tea?"
"No," I say, crawling under the sheets and pulling the blanket up to my chin.
Jesse turns off the lights, and my heart races as the room goes dark. This is a different type of darkness. One that makes me feel afraid and alone. I don't want to be alone. Not now. I can't.
In a timid tone, I quietly ask, "Can you—can you um...can you stay with me? Just for a little while?" Jesse stares at me, uncertainty capturing his eyes. I'm uncertain too, but I need him. I need him to stay. " Please ."
"Of course," Jesse finally says, approaching the bed.
He walks toward me slowly, so slow that it seems like he's buying time.
Buying a few more moments of distance. His hesitation leaves me more confused than ever.
The mattress dips as he sits rigidly down beside me.
Jesse clears his throat, looking straight ahead. "I'll stay as long as you need."
He's right next to me, but it seems like miles. I don't need distance right now. I need comfort. I need safety.
I need him .
"Closer," I whisper, tugging back the bed sheet. "Come closer."
Jesse hesitates again, his breathing heavy with contemplation as I flip to my side and curl into a deflated ball.
Just hold me. Silently, he crawls under the duvet, draping the covers over our bodies.
Swallowing hard, his hand hovers in the air for a charged beat before he pulls me flush against his warm chest, creating a protective barrier with his arms.
"You're safe here," he whispers against my skin, and I relax into his promise. "I got you."
"I know," I whisper, drifting off into a dreamless sleep.