Chapter Nine
Blaze
I rubbed my wrists as I exited the county jail. A short hallway carried me back toward the courtroom. I could see Easy sitting inside, waiting for Mayhem’s case to be called, no doubt. I didn’t think I could handle another moment on a bench, pew, or bunk. I nodded to the guard near the door and blocked the sunlight from my eyes with a planked hand when I made it to the parking lot.
I half expected my mother to magically appear with one of her epic meltdowns, but I didn’t readily see her.
“You lookin’ for Crystal and Oak?” That angel’s voice brought an instant smile, despite my exhaustion.
I raised my chin when I spotted Marchella, saluting her even as I gravitated toward the car she was sitting inside. The driver’s door was propped open, but I ignored picking up where we’d left off and opted to let myself in the passenger side instead. I shut the door, grabbed the seat belt and paused with it halfway across my chest.
“Why aren’t we moving yet?” I looked at her like she was slacking.
Marchella snorted and shut her door. She put the key in the engine and turned it without effect. I stared at the steering column; I probably concealed my amused expression as well as she did the disbelief in her voice.
“What the fuck?”
She brought the key back and tried again with the same results.
“You leave something on?” I looked up at the dome light, only realizing nothing had been lit up when her door was opened.
The clock was analog, so it wasn’t any help in determining whether it was a battery or alternator issue. The wood applique on her dash was in amazing shape. I reached out to run my fingers over it, but decided I didn’t have time to admire it if I was going to get out of there before my mother brought the circus back to town.
“Pop the hood.”
“You should probably go check on your mom, Oak was following her wit–”
“With the vehicle?” I guessed.
“Yeah, your sister looked miserable,” she whispered.
“Sounds like all is normal.” I motioned toward the hood. “You want me to look at that battery or…”
Her lips shifted like she was about to say something, but instead, she cleared her throat, tucked one side of her hair behind her ear, and tugged the lever for the hood. I slid out of her bucket seat and rounded the car, sliding my fingers around until I found the catch.
“Mother fucker, get away from there before you break something. For Christ’s sake,” Mackie scoffed, causing me to whirl.
He gave a menacing laugh and shook his head, staring at his sister, “You really will let anyone under that hood, huh?” He winked.
I stepped toward him before he’d even finished talking, my hand curling with instinct. Marchella made a strained sound that drew his attention toward her as she shot out of the car.
I should have sucker punched him. He would have done it to me, but that type of cheap shit was beneath me.
“The battery is in the trunk.” She hurriedly explained, placing herself between us.
I glanced down at the hood scoop, and the lower front spoiler, before observing the car’s title where it was proudly spelled out on the front.
“I know where the battery is on a Boss.” I assured her.
“Right you do.” Mackie laughed, sounding so much like his father.
“The battery is in the trunk because it is a 1969 model and has a v8 under the hood.”
“If you knew all that, why were you about to look under the hood, huh?” Mackie taunted.
“I wasn’t drooling over the half a million-dollar piece of metal, dumb ass. There was something more appetizing behind its steering wheel.”
Mackie smothered a laugh and leaned in close, squishing his sister between us. “You’re cute. You’re gonna be fuckin’ cuter when I’m done with ya.”
He shoved at my shoulder, and then a body collided with him out of nowhere, sending him sprawling onto the hood of the car with a thud.
When I saw the President’s patch on the kutte of the man holding him, I quickly understood why he wasn’t bitching about his sister’s precious car. Though, I’m ashamed to say it took me a blink or two to realize it was my uncle clutching either side of Mackie’s face like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to rip it off or kiss him.
“I wanted you to be my enforcer, but if I can’t fucking trust you to keep your head until I tell you to lose it, guess what?” He paused, but Mackie didn’t deign to offer any guesses. “Then that means you’re fuckin’ worthless to me and the club. Get. It. Together.”
A flock of sheriff’s deputies slowly started toward us.
“I love you too, fucker.” Mackie managed. His tone was venomous, and those hazel eyes were nothing short of homicidal.
“I know you do. I know. You tell Izzy I sent my best, yeah?” Easy loudly said, before letting go and stepping away.
The deputies paused, some of their expressions were intent, others were openly confused.
“I need to get the fuck out of here,” I whispered, my heart racing.
For every step those officers had taken, a year had been shed off my life expectancy. I could feel it!
“Yes, you do. We all do,” Easy agreed, placing his hand on my shoulder.
The courthouse door opened, and Mayhem stepped outside.
“See you–” He started to antagonistically sing to the uncertain officers.
“Shut the fuck up and get your ass over here. You don’t think we’ve paid enough bail for one day?” Aunt Trista exploded, from several feet away.
Mayhem locked eyes with her and I saw his features shift. The disgust and hurt was almost palpable before he turned and stormed off the other way.
“What the fuck…?” Trista blurted out.
“Jesus Christ. Come on. Both of you,” Easy urged, when he realized Mackie had left his sister standing amongst us.
“My car…” Marchella started, but I grabbed her hand and jerked her along with us.
“I’ll have it brought around.” Easy dismissively waved his hand.
“O–oh.” Marchella nodded, glancing after Mayhem.
Once we were all inside Aunt Trista’s car, I realized how upset she was by May’s unexplained behavior. There were tears glinting in her eyes and she sniffled as Easy put the car in reverse.
“Ah, Aunt Trista, don’t be upset. He isn’t angry with you. It’s just that stupid shit–” I choked on my words, suddenly unsure if I should repeat it, or just chalk it up as Makaveli venting and raging.
I didn’t know the politics of the club, or the intricacies of my aunt’s relationship with her brother.
“What stupid shit?” Easy mumbled, almost sounding disinterested, until he saw the way I tried to focus my attention outside the window.
He adjusted the rearview mirror and stared expectantly at me, “The fuck are you on about back there?”
I groaned and glanced at Marchella and then the eyes in the mirror.
“What?” She nervously laughed.
I let out a defeated sigh, “We were in a cage together. Last night, at the jail.”
“A cell?” Easy offered, his brow raising a bit.
“Yeah. That.” I nodded.
“All of you?” Marchella’s voice raised with a hint of surprise.
“Yeah.” The way I stressed the word left everyone staring at me.
Easy opted to halt at the stop sign, rather than pull into the traffic passing in front of the courthouse.
“Fuck.” I cleared my throat, “Makaveli told Mayhem that his real father was Demetri Valentino.”
Easy’s jaw went slack, and his foot must have, too, that fucking car scraped loudly against the downward slope of the parking lot exit.
“Fuck. Shit. What the fuck?” Easy blurted out, swerving into traffic while staring back at me in the rearview mirror. “Are you fuckin’ with me right now?”
Trista didn’t say a word, her hand was parked over her mouth.
“My dad’s an asshole. He’s like a wounded animal; when he’s hurt, he wants others to hurt. He doesn’t know Blaze well enough to hurt him. I’m guessing Mayhem was the only other person in the cell?”
I gave a slow nod, impressed at her ability to analyze her own father so candidly.
“Well– Yeah, inside. There were police outside the cell keeping us under surveillance and making sure we didn’t kill each other, by the time he said all that.”
“What?” Trista had completely turned around in the passenger seat. “Why would they think that? Did he fucking hurt my son?”
Her nephew’s homicidal twinkle didn’t have shit on the coldness I saw in her eyes when she asked that question.
“No. No, Mayhem called the guards because he was scared.”
“Scared of what?” Easy and Trista both spat at the same time.
“I told Makaveli he was a joke. That he wasted his time trying to convince everyone he was some kind of problem or a threat, but everyone sees the truth… More or less.”
“My mother fuckin’ nephew.” Easy tapped the side of Trista’s thigh hard enough to make her jump.
She slapped him back without hesitation, connecting with his upper arm, and sending the vehicle swerving toward the middle line. Easy laughed, but Marchella was still staring at me without a sound. I could feel it, even if I hadn’t found enough balls to look at her, after snitching on her father like that.
“Where the fuck are you going, Asshole?” Trista laughed.
“The fuck you mean? I’m going to find a bail bondsman.” He huffed.
“A ba– a bail bondsman?” she stammered, her face slowly drawing into a squint. “What the fuck…”
Easy flubbed his lips, “Sit there and act like you don’t know. I’m gonna bail that mother fucker out, just so I can have the satisfaction of slapping this cocksucker until I ain’t got no goddamn knuckles left. That’s what the fuck is about to happen.”
I’d never seen Uncle Easy color like that. His whole face was turning pink, while his knuckles were growing white around the wheel.
Trista sniffed, and awkwardly adjusted her hair.
“My love–” Trista calmly began.
“Fuck off, I know he’s your brother,” Easy grumbled.
I glanced toward Marchella; certain I’d been labeled a coward ten times over in her mind. My breath caught when I saw the way she was staring at me. She was smiling, and her eyes were filled with something that looked a whole lot like admiration.
“Brother or not, he deserves a few smacks.” Trista shrugged.
“Agreed,” Marchella chimed, snaring my hand with hers again. “He had no business bullying May with lies.”
Easy’s grip on the wheel lessened when Marchella openly announced her disbelief.
“My love, there is no such thing as a bail bond in Illinois. Missouri used to have them, but we don’t,” Aunt Trista finally managed to get out.
“Are you fucking serious? I got to drive all the way to St. Louis?”
Trista shoved playfully at his arm, “We aren’t going to St. Louis. I just scolded our son over bond money being spent, what the fuck does it look like if we suddenly find more loose cash to frivolously bail someone else out. Besides, they probably won’t give my brother a bond. Not with his criminal history and charges like that.”
“He’ll get bail, and I’ll be there to sign for it,” Easy calmly repeated.
“You’re gonna bail him out…for what? So, we then have to bail you out, too?” Trista asked, her tone condescending with her efforts to make him see how ridiculous he sounded.
“Yep.” Easy flippantly answered, flicking his blinker on, and finally turning to head back toward the house. “Tomorrow.”