Chapter 8 Carter
CARTER
“And that’s how I won, but I didn’t cheat, I fucking swear!
” shouts Ash, as if I cared that he cheated at poker last time he played with Shadow and Tank.
The last one almost punched him after Ash started dancing on the table with cash in his pants like strippers do.
No wonder Tank almost killed him. Ash is young; he doesn’t realize some of us aren’t as patient as we used to be.
We’re both waiting at the table of the coffee shop Mia likes to go to in the mornings.
She’s meeting a client there today, so we’ll be here for at least another hour.
Even though Ash, and it pains me to say it, kind of amuses me with his chitchat and the way he doesn’t care about my mutism.
I can't stop thinking about what’s going to happen in two hours. Lunch. Lana. My place.
I got everything ready. Got my housekeeper to buy all the ingredients and even thought about how I should dress.
You’re playing normal people now? I wince, trying to push away my thoughts and hold on to the words of my mother and the ones Ash told me a few days ago.
That I could have a shot at it. At a normal life with a woman who could accept me, flaws and fucked-up mind included.
“Earth to Carter. You there, buddy?” Ash gently shoves his elbow into my rib. “Still thinking ‘bout your girl, huh?”
My gaze is locked on Mia at all times, ‘cause I’d never forgive myself for losing sight of my boss’s wife and getting her kidnapped just because we weren’t careful enough, so I just make the smallest nod.
Ash isn’t a stranger; I don’t want to keep this away from him.
Especially since he’s the person I get to spend the most time with at work, and also ‘cause he’s comfortable with girls and small talk.
Despite being seven years younger than me, he’s got more in his tank than I do in this area.
“Oh, yeah, you’re in deep then.” He smirks, glancing at Mia while sitting back in his chair.
This coffee place is nice. There’s a wooden counter, pastries, second-hand furniture, and small lamps.
Kind of feels like fall all year long here.
It’s different from what I’m used to at home, but I have nothing against a bit of warmth.
“C’mon, talk to me, Ghost,” he insists.
“She’s coming to my flat at lunch,” I deadpan.
“What?” he half-shouts, half-whispers, and he quickly places his hand over his mouth after I shoot him a glare. I don’t want us to be fucking noisy. Bodyguards are supposed to be discreet.
“It’s no big deal.” I shrug, trying to keep my composure and ignore the thumps of my heart.
“It’s a huge deal,” he fires back. “So what happened? How? I need details, lots of details.” I shake my head, almost regretting telling him ‘cause I know he won’t let go now that he knows.
“I invited her to my place, that's all. Thought I could cook for her. That she would like that.”
“Dude, that’s great, that’s… Yeah, all in, wow, didn’t expect you to be this kind of—”
“What didn’t you expect me to be?” I frown.
“Just, um, not to rehash old wounds, but just a year ago, you were giving a kidney to that girl. What’s her name? I forgot… Maddie? No… Melody? Yeah, Melody. So I’d say, cooking something for your new girl, that’s good. It’s, yeah, freaking good.” He nods, patting my shoulder.
My face remains a block of ice, but his encouraging words give me courage.
Ash has dated a lot of women; he’s in his bachelor era, as he says, so knowing that I’m on the right path is pretty great.
Won’t admit it out loud, but I kind of wanted the bastard to be on my side on this.
‘Cause it really matters. Lana’s not like the women I used to spend time with.
“And did you guys…” He touches his fingers and taps them together multiple times with a wicked smile. What does he mean? Did our index fingers touch?
“We held hands,” I tell him, ‘cause I have no idea where he’s going with this.
“You…touched hands,” he repeats, tilting his head to the side. “You’re twenty-five, Cart. What the fuck are you waiting for?”
“I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
“I. Don’t. Understand. You. Over.” Ash chuckles, mimicking the arm gesture of a robot.
He’s lucky he’s my friend because he’s the only person in this world who gets to make fun of my cold nature without ending up in shreds.
I would smile if I could. “Just kidding, alright, so hands it is. Slow and steady, good for you,” he smirks, “so, when do we get to meet your lady?” He joins his hands on the table.
“She’s not my lady,” I grunt.
Yet.
“The boss is having his annual party in three weeks, just sayin’.”
Right, the party. One evening with all the club members and their families. Could be a good place to introduce her to my world, but… Who says she’ll still want to be a part of my life after lunch today?
“One day at a time,” I explain, because I’m out of my depth with Lana and I don’t want to fuck it up by rushing things.
“That I understand.” Ash nods, running his hand through his red hair and sipping his coffee. We remain like this another hour, only this time, Ash gives me space, and I can hear my thoughts in silence while watching Mia.
Three weeks from here, will she still want me around?
3 years ago,
Dr. Parks and Carter’s first session
“So, um, despite those very unusual circumstances,” says the shrink sitting in front of me in our basement with only concrete walls and one light bulb, “I believe your…um…teammates, think I could help you with your…condition.”
A drop of sweat is falling from his forehead as he clutches his notebook like his life depends on it.
The only shrink Ares and Vox found for me since he’s indebted to the club; there’s no chance he’ll ever go to the cops.
Not that it’d be a big issue, but some things are better left in the dark.
Ares told him he would get off the hook if he took me as a patient.
I might be the only psychopath on Earth who gets to spill his guts without repercussion.
Lucky me.
“I’ve been told I’ve got some issues,” I rasp.
“Issues... Um...I see,” he stammers, squirming in his seat. “Could you, uh, tell me more about that?”
“I can’t read emotions on people's faces, I can’t understand subtext. And…”
“And?” His voice falters.
“I try to talk to women, but there’s something I miss each time. I always fuck things up, even when I try real hard.”
“What do you mean by trying real hard?”
“The men I kill here,” I point at a stain of blood next to his feet, “I take out some of their organs, blood, and sometimes hands, and then…I offer them, as presents…” I explain, my tone even, cold, unbothered.
His eyes widen and he swipes a hand behind his nape.
Nervousness. Just like the guy I ended here yesterday.
“You are an…enforcer, right? I believe this is the right term?” He swallows. I nod in response. “What does it feel like when you… Um…” he chokes out, swallowing hard.
“Torture?”
“Yes, torture.” He fidgets, then sits up straighter, as if kind of getting the hang of it.
“It’s calming.” Like listening to the waves or riding on my bike. “Puts my brain on pause. Like I’m in the zone.”
“O-okay, um, right, and has it always been this way?”
“What do you mean?”
“How long have you been doing this?”
“Not so long. Ares found me when I was seventeen, taught me everything about the club, the rules, the values. Then one day, his enforcer got shot, and I knew I’ve wanted to try this for a long time, so I started and never stopped ever since. It’s been four years.”
“Four years. So you started at eighteen, that’s a long time for such a young person, don’t you think?”
I shrug. “I haven’t been young for a long time.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Saw a lot of things a kid shouldn’t have. Too much, too soon.”
“I see, and would you like to talk about those things?”
“No.”
“Fair enough. Maybe another time?” He leans in, his breathing getting back to normal.
“Maybe.”
“About those, um…gifts, why do you think women don’t want them?”
“Because they’re from me.”
“Don’t you think it’s more about the…nature of the gift?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Perhaps blood, organs, and such, are a bit…frightening to other people, do you ever think of that?”
“Why would blood be frightening?” I frown. This is a waste of time. I hate that I have to do this.
“I, um, well, most people aren’t used to seeing it every day like you, Carter. So it can be very…unsettling for others to be exposed to that, especially in the courting area.”
“Okay.” I nod, thinking about it. I admit I’ve never seen it from this point of view.
“When you give those…things, what are you hoping for?”
“Hoping for?”
“Yes, what are you expecting in return? Do you want to make the lady happy? Do you want her to get to know you better? Is it purely out of lust? What do you want out of these exchanges with women?”
My lower lip trembles, but I catch it and stare at him.
What do I want? A normal life. I want a job I like and can talk about to normal folks without their blood draining out of their faces.
I want to protect the club and become friends with my brothers there.
I want to come home to a woman who knows me and still…
likes me. I want the white fence and pancake breakfasts on Sunday. I want it all, but I’ll never have it.
“Nothing,” I rasp, “I want nothing from them.”
Dr. Parks arches a brow, staring back at me with more confidence than when we started. “We will talk some more about that in the future if you want,” he says as he writes something in his notebook.
“Now, you talked about struggling with emotional and social cues. Can you tell me more about it?”
I nod and start unraveling my deepest struggles to this stranger, hoping this whole opening-up thing will lead me somewhere.
LANA