14. Lex
14
LEX
T here are some people in this world that don’t deserve to live. Their presence and heartbeat are just an accident of birth—unfortunate proof that the universe really is apathetic. I know this because if God did exist, they would never approve of utter shitstains like Darrio Vargas.
“Do you think the buyer gives a fuck about that?” Darrio growls into the receiver of his cell phone as he paces back and forth across the grimy tile of The Bronze Needle .
The buzz of the tattoo gun fills the air as I swipe up on the screen of my phone. It’s harder to work on such a small device, but it’s been months since Allen Donovan first contacted me and I’m no closer to knowing the truth than I was before.
“Don’t fucking give me that bullshit!” Darrio’s annoyed voice turns into a shout. It grates on my fucking nerves. If only Nolan would let me put a bullet in his head, then half of our problems would be solved.
As if he hears my thoughts, Nolan glances over at me from his chair on the other side of the small tattoo parlor. He looks pointedly at the phone in my hand, and I shake my head. There’s still no new information on Allen Donovan’s supposed innocence, and I haven’t exactly had the head to dig in the last few weeks—not since Juliet moved out. Her stuff still sits in a corner of Nolan’s room, and I wish I still had something of hers too. The sheets no longer smell like her and the one night I’d had is far from enough.
The tattoo needle hits a sensitive spot and though I don’t move or flinch in reaction, a muscle beneath my skin jumps. The pain is worth it, though, because with Juliet back in my life I’ve decided that there’s no letting her go again. I glance down at the man holding the tattoo gun as he works over the scrawl of her name. It’s not too obvious, lines of her name in script hidden in the image of a bird’s feathered wings. When she’s accepted my love, then I’ll have her pick the place she wants to brand me.
The needle hits another sensitive spot and I move my attention back to my phone screen. We’ve been coming here for years, ever since we agreed to work for Darrio. This is where all of his minions get their gang tatts, and it’s a shithole.
What tattoo shop would be willing to tattoo underage that isn’t? But even if the shop and its owner are shady as fuck, the two artists Nolan and I insist on whenever we come—Rogue and Carver—are legit. Clean. Methodical. Worth the hefty price tag they come with—and dealing with Darrio’s fucking mouth.
“Get the product here by the end of the week or else!” Darrio snaps right before he hangs up and tosses the phone onto the countertop against the far wall.
Rogue, my artist, pauses in his line work and looks over his shoulder with an annoyed grunt. Darrio ignores it and strides into the back office—with its windows lined with black paper so no one can see inside, slamming the door in his wake.
Nolan and I exchange a glance. “Sorry, boys,” Nolan mutters, directing the statement to the two artists. Rogue returns to his work without another sound and Carver never even bothers to stop.
The front doorbell jingles, and I look over to see Gio stepping into the front of the shop. He sees us and makes a beeline, eyes bobbing over the rest of the shop until he hears Darrio’s voice behind the office door. He grimaces, but doesn’t stop until he’s between Nolan and me.
“What’s he mad about?” he demands.
“Product and delivery issues on a new shipment,” Nolan states. Though Rogue and Carver are solid guys and are smart enough to keep their mouths shut, Nolan is careful and doesn’t mention what the product actually is. Drugs. Cocaine, to be precise.
We’ve dealt our fair share of weed and pills, but cocaine is Darrio’s newest venture. It’s the whole reason for his absence from town as of late—he’s been back and forth with a cartel down south that’s making the supplies to get it into the hands and noses of the rich pricks on the northside of Silverwood.
Gio moves closer to Nolan and I go back to my phone, scanning through the throng of emails and encrypted messages I’ve received from the dark web. Much of it is written in code, a second language to me now, but it still takes time to decipher.
An hour goes by and I clear out the cache of information—most of it unhelpful until I get to the final message. There’s no words, only a grainy image of a woman. I squint at it as Rogue wipes blood off my new tattoo and spreads some unscented lotion on it. Ultimately, though, my phone screen is a poor replacement for what I have back at my house, so I send the image over to be blown up and de-pixelated later.
The back office door opens and Darrio steps out, a cigar hanging from between his lips. “You’re done?” he demands as Nolan gets off his chair and stretches. Without waiting for a response, he nods, not bothering to say anything to Gio. “Good. I have a job for you three.”
Rogue nods to me as I get up and fish out my wallet. I slap a stack of hundreds in his hand and nod to Carver to let him know that it’s for both of them. He hands me the plastic bandage that’ll keep it clean and help it heal over the next 24 to 72 hours. I put it on and crack my neck to the side to relieve some of the ache from having it bent for so long on my phone. The skin over the left side of my chest burns slightly as I reach down and grab my discarded t-shirt, pulling it on over my head.
“What do you need?” Nolan asks as he does the same.
“I need you to take a trip.”
Gio frowns. “We have football practice next week, we can’t miss it.”
“Your fucking football games aren’t going to put food on the table, now, are they?” Darrio practically snarls at his son. “I thought I was raising a man, not a fucking boy. If you don’t want to get paid then you can skip out.”
Gio stiffens. Neither Nolan nor I say a damn word as Gio’s face slackens into a perfectly controlled mask. “Of course, sir,” Gio replies. “What do you need?”
Darrio glares at him. “I need you to stop being such a pussy,” he grits out before switching his attention to Nolan. “Head out to Eastpoint this weekend,” he says. “I’ve got a new client up there that’s willing to purchase some of the goods we have coming in. I need you to solidify the deal—ensure him that we’re reliable.”
“And the product?” Nolan inquires. “That’ll be in on time?”
Even if it hadn’t been our duty, neither he nor I had missed Darrio’s outburst on the phone. “It will be,” Darrio snaps. “Or by fucking Christ, I’ll have their damn balls.”
I keep my mouth sealed. It’s easy enough to make the man forget my existence when I never talk. I don’t like to acknowledge Darrio’s existence; it only serves to remind me that he’s not yet where he should be—in the ground, pushing daisies.
As if he senses my intentions, Darrio’s dark eyes flick towards me and then back to Nolan. “I’ll have Bates send you the information,” he says, referring to his second in command. “Don’t fuck this up.”
Nolan nods, face a copy of Gio’s. “Of course, sir.” With that, Darrio turns and stomps into the back office, slamming the door until the covered glass windows rattle.
Together, the three of us—Gio, Nolan, and I—wave goodbye to Rogue and Carver as they clean up their stations, and head out the front. The sun is setting over the gray horizon, casting the sliver of parking lot into a shadowy hue as we walk towards my SUV and Gio’s Firebird.
“I don’t like this,” I say as we get closer.
Gio glances at me. “Because of her?” he guesses.
I nod. Leaving Silverwood has rarely been a requirement from Darrio, it’s almost always been taking drugs up to the northside, but if he’s really branching out then until we take him out, this might become a regular occurrence. It’s a problem. We still don’t know who’s after Juliet.
Nolan sighs as he stops by the back of the SUV. “I agree.” Reaching up, he pinches the bridge of his nose as if to ward off an oncoming headache. “She’s not going to come with us willingly.”
“You want to take her with?” I ask, almost hopefully.
Get Juliet out of Silverwood? Alone? Well, with the three of us, I mentally correct, but alone with us otherwise.
Gio shifts on his feet, turning to face us with his back to the Firebird. “She wasn’t all that receptive to our talk at the Dionysus Lounge,” he says. “She really thinks the two of you burned down the complex.”
“You know we didn’t,” Nolan snaps.
In my pocket, my phone buzzes, and I pull it free. Glancing over the notifications on the screen, I smirk and then swipe over to the remote-controlled app that I had privately installed on Juliet’s cell phone. Poor baby must be losing her mind every time she realizes her attempts to block us are rejected. Going down the list of actions she’s taken, I undo the blocks on all three of our phones before finding the screen that will allow me to read her latest texts.
JULIET: Hey when are your parents coming in this weekend? I want to make sure I’m out of your hair before they get here.
ROQUEL: Saturday morning at the latest, but as early as Friday night.
JULIET: K
Ghostly dots form a bubble at the bottom of the screen showcasing that someone is typing. A moment later, Roquel’s name pops back up on the screen.
ROQUEL: Going out tonight. Don’t wait up.
JULIET:
The conversation itself is innocent, but the subtext is clear. Juliet is leaving Roquel’s… but where is she going?
“I’m gonna go talk to her tonight,” Gio says, recapturing my attention.
“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” Nolan asks.
“At the fucking least, I have to try,” G replies, frustration clear in his tone and his body as he rubs the flat of his hand over his hair. Several strands are dragged back away from his face only to bounce right back over his forehead with the movement. “I’m kind of hoping that since she knows I couldn’t have anything to do with her apartment that she’ll let me talk to her. If I can just get her alone, maybe…”
He doesn’t need to finish the statement. If anyone understands the desire to get Juliet alone and vulnerable in his grasp, it’s me.
“She needs a new place to stay,” I announce. Both Nolan and Gio glance in my direction.
“What? I thought she was staying with Ma-Ri’s niece or something?”
I turn my phone around and let them see the texts. “Looks like she’s moving out this weekend.”
Both of them lean forward. “That might be beneficial to us,” Nolan murmurs, eyes locked on the screen for a moment more before I put it down. He nods to Gio. “Fine, go talk to her. See if you can get her to agree to go with us to Eastpoint. We can work on her there.”
Work on her. A shiver of anticipation steals up my spine. As Nolan turns and climbs into the vehicle, I face Gio.
“G.” All it takes is one word, and his attention focuses squarely on me. For a moment, all he does is look back at me, waiting for me to tell him what I want. When I don’t say a word, he shifts on his feet.
“Goddamn it, Lex, just spit it out.”
That’s the thing, though—a request such as this isn’t meant to be just spat out . It requires elegance, something I’ve never had much of. Another beat passes and Gio blows out a long breath.
“I don’t expect anything to happen between us,” he finally says, guessing the direction of my thoughts—rather accurately I might add.
“But if it does?”
Gio’s head sinks back on his shoulders as he stares up at the sky. With a low groan, he straightens. “I’ll include you,” he mutters.
I grin.
“She won’t like it,” he says.
I shrug. “She never has to know.”
Gio shakes his head and moves away, the last of his words drifting back to me as he grumbles to himself. “Ain’t that the fucking truth.”