Chapter 5
FIVE
KALANI
“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I chanted as I turned out of the parking lot. I didn’t know what to do. Stabbing the wrong person wasn’t on my list of potential problems to troubleshoot. “I stabbed the wrong man! Holy fuck!”
At least I already have an insanity conviction; getting the second one should be easy. No, I can’t think like that. I’m not going to get caught. Yes, I am.
I argued with myself until I reached my driveway. Then I had a new problem to deal with. Birdie was home.
If she was awake, I was screwed. Birdie was the only one there for me after I killed my uncle—her son.
My father turned his back on me after I was sentenced.
Well, he turned is back on me long before that, but he continued visiting me while I was awaiting trial, which I later learned was to keep up with his public appearance.
He didn’t want the community to look down on him if he turned his back on his mentally ill daughter.
But the moment I was locked away, he disappeared.
When I was released, Birdie was the one who picked me up. She took me to our new home in California and helped me get my life started.
We lived there for seven years, until my father died. To my surprise, I inherited my childhood home in Makani, Hawaii and everything in it.
After a lot of discussion, Birdie and I decided to relocate to Makani on a trial basis. If we could afford it and it was good for my mental health, we’d stay. Something told me Birdie wouldn’t consider stabbing a man within the first six months of being back in Makani good for my mental health.
But I couldn’t keep it from her. She was the only one who could help me, and she deserved to know the truth.
My thoughts were interrupted when Birdie appeared in front of my car, hands on her hips. “Get out and tell me what happened.”
I don’t know how she knew, but I shouldn’t have been surprised. Swallowing thickly, I rolled down my window. “Can you move your car first?”
“Fuck,” she said quietly. “If you’re trying to hide something, go ahead and back it in.”
I nodded and waited for her to move her car. Then I backed into the carport as far as I could. Birdie pulled her car in front of mine, leaving only a few inches between our bumpers.
“Get your ass inside and turn that shit off,” Birdie said, gesturing to the outdoor lights.
I did as she said and waited for the inevitable. It didn’t take long. “What in the hell happened?” Birdie demanded as she quickly turned off every light in the house.
I opened my mouth to tell her, but I didn’t know where to start.
“I’ll slap you if that’ll help.”
“A man grabbed me from behind and covered my mouth. I stabbed him and ran,” I blurted.
“Oh, sweet Jesus.” Birdie braced herself against the wall with one hand and pressed the other against her chest.
Moving forward, I reached for her. “Birdie!”
She held up her hand to stop me. “I’m okay. My gummy kicked in at the wrong time. I’ll sit while you explain what the fuck you just said. Unless we need to get out of here. Then I’ll find us a flight while you pack.”
I helped her to the living room and told her a watered-down version of the story.
“I had a date with a guy I matched with on an app. When I knocked on the door to his hotel room, a man came up behind me and put his hand over my mouth. He told me he would snap my neck if I made a sound. I stabbed him and ran like hell.”
“Why did you have a knife?”
Shit. I hadn’t thought about having to explain the knife because it wasn’t supposed to happen the way it did.
Since I wasn’t prepared, I answered with a truth that would have been better kept to myself—a truth that caused her great pain.
“Because I know how to use one.” Birdie sucked in a sharp breath while I covered my face with my hands in shame.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that I know I can defend myself with one,” I rushed out.
“I was meeting the guy in person for the first time, and I wanted to be safe.”
“Is that who you stabbed? The guy you were meeting?”
“No,” I said confidently. “I barely got a glimpse of the guy out of the corner of my eye, but it was enough to know it wasn’t the same man I’d been video chatting with. And their voices were different.”
“Give me all the details but make it quick. Where did it happen? Is he alive? Were you seen? Are there cameras? We need to figure out if we need to report it,” she said.
“I stabbed him in the outer thigh—I don’t think it went all the way in—so he should be alive.
I heard him yelling for help. Other than the guy I stabbed, I don’t think anyone else saw me.
I wasn’t wearing this.” I gestured to my clothes.
“I changed in the car and took my hair down. I don’t know if they have cameras, but I parked across the street, so I’ll look like one person at the hotel and another at the bar. ”
“What hotel and bar?” she asked urgently.
“I don’t know the name of the bar, but the hotel was Charli’s Place in Kahakai.”
Birdie’s eyes widened as she slowly raised her hand to cover her mouth. Shaking her head, she whispered, “No, no, no.”
“What?” I nearly yelled. “What is it?”
“They definitely have cameras. Charli’s Place is owned by Charli Brown, wife of Cooter Brown, President of the Kings of Anarchy MC. The Kings own the bar across the street, too. Liquid Anarchy.”
“What?” I shouted and started to pace. A motorcycle club. The bar and hotel were owned by a motorcycle club.
“Yeah,” Birdie said knowingly. “You better hope you stabbed someone who shouldn’t have been on their property and not one of the Kings. They’re gonna look for you either way.”
“Fuck,” I said. “Wait. How do you know so much about the Kings?”
“I went to high school with a guy who joined the club and started going by the name Coochie. We kept in touch for a long time after we graduated,” she said. “On the bright side, they’re an outlaw club, so we don’t need to worry about the cops.”
I grimaced. “Do all the Kings have names like that? Cooter and Coochie?”
“Yes. Why?”
Because I might have stabbed one named Sugar.
“Because I don’t want the cops or the Kings to find me. I need to know who to watch out for.”
Birdie sighed. “We’re gonna have to do something about your truck.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. I knew what she meant, but I couldn’t tell her I pulled over and took the plates off before I got to Kahakai. I also needed to put the plates back on without her noticing.
“You parked in their parking lot, and you left around the time of the incident. If they’ve got a shot of your plates, it won’t take long for them to track you down.”
They didn’t have a shot of my plates, but they likely had footage of my truck. Thankfully, I had a white Tacoma, one of the most common vehicles on the island. It was one of three vehicles I inherited when my father died. The other two were also white Tacomas, though one was used for spare parts.
“What should we do?” I asked.
“Take the plates off and hide them. Disconnect the battery. Tomorrow we’ll work on making it look like it’s been sitting a while. Then, if anyone comes asking about it, we can tell them the truck hasn’t been running for a while and act surprised when we discover the plates have been stolen.”
“Okay,” I nodded, grateful she was taking the lead. “What else?”
“Get the plates now,” she said.
Since the plates were in the pouch behind my seat, I used the time I would’ve spent removing them to take a few hits off my bowl before I went back inside.
“I’ll get rid of these,” she said, taking the plates from me. “You disconnect the battery.”
Once that was done, I went back to the living room. “What’s next?” I asked when Birdie returned a few minutes later.
“We need to get rid of the knife and burn your clothes. Which one do you want to do?”
“I’ll burn the clothes.”
“Get rid of the ones you’re wearing, too,” she added.
“Got it.” I gave her the knife and went to my room to change clothes.
Fuck, I was lucky to have a grandmother who helped me cover up my shit with minimal questions.
Especially since I killed her son. He was an evil man who deserved much more than he got, but he was still her son, and I was the person who ended his life.
For her to love me the way she did after everything was something I vowed never to take for granted.
When Birdie joined me by the fireplace, she was carrying a basket of clothes. “We’ll toss some of these in. If anyone comes looking around, we were burning some of your father’s things.”
“No one’s going to come inside and look in our fireplace without us knowing about it.”
“No, but we’ll have to empty it, and someone might look through our trash.”
I snapped my fingers and pointed at her. “Good point.”
“I brought some old bills we can toss in and say were letters or mementos. It’s part of our healing process.”
“Can we pretend the bills are the letters and mementos we should have but don’t because Chad Collins was an asshole who turned his back on his family in their time of need?” I asked excitedly.
Birdie shrugged. “It doesn’t sound like an awful idea, but I’m high, so who the fuck knows? Go for it, kid.”
And that’s how I used my oldest trauma to forget about my newest trauma long enough to fall asleep—the devil you knew and all.