10. Dillon
TEN
DILLON
PRESENT DAY FROM brAVE AS IT
There is something to be said for the experience of your twenties. I didn’t have the traditional wild season or free years. The window of time before the responsibilities of adulthood close in, I ignored it. Those formative years from eighteen to twenty-five are a horizon where mistakes happen but growth comes from all of it. I joined the Marines right out of high school and got married. Before that, I spent my teen years in high school completely hooked on all things Anna. From there, I took on every serious adult task, culpability, and duty right out of high school. Looking back on it, well, it’s sort of crazy. Why did I rush?
Not only did I desperately chase this illusion of building a family, but I also went right to battle. I’m trained and built to be a weapon to protect my country. I did so proudly. If I could go back in the Marines, I would in a heartbeat, but I have reached the age limit for re-enlistment. Make no mistake, I will never back down from protecting my family, my friends, my flag, my freedoms, and find pride in doing so. I went from a boy into a man during my time in service in ways I never imagined. However, I went to war before I could even legally obtain a damn beer.
In some ways, it made me stronger. Drinking doesn’t have the appeal I think it would have if things had worked out any other way. Having responsibilities to provide for Anna, not wanting to risk my military career, I never found this heavy desire to drink. As a Hellion, we have parties and I drink casually, but it isn’t something I regularly do. Sometimes, I cut lose though, don’t get it twisted. And tonight might be one of those times.
Tonight is a clubhouse party. I enjoy the freedom with my brothers. There is no transport, no business, nothing but a good time awaits. It’s Anna’s weekend with Hollis only encouraging me to let go even more. I don’t have anything else going on. A beer or two with my brothers sounds like a nice way to close out a long week.
Honestly, I never thought Anna and I would get to this place. Divorce is a process involving a lot of emotions. I have felt every one of them to my soul. In the beginning, I planned to go for full custody. Maritza talked me off that ledge. While I didn’t agree, I saw her point in not being the one to put Hollis is a position to build up walls with either of us. Share time as equally as we can, keeping his safety first, but allowing his mother as much time as she wants with him as long as she allows me the same respect not to keep him from me; this is our agreement about our son.
While far from perfect, we have an arrangement. I pay the mortgage, utilities, and give her child support. I buy all of Hollis’ clothes, pay for his sports, school fees, and anything he needs. She lives a comfortable life with what I pay and what she earns at her job. We split time with him as evenly as possible. Most weeknights he stays with her so that his school schedule remains structured. Now that he’s older, on weekends, I let him choose. Sometimes, he wants to stay with her because he has a friend over or he goes to a friend’s house. Most weekends, though, he's with me. I still see him almost daily since Maritza picks him up from school and brings him back to the office with her when he asks, which is most of the time. At first, Anna brought him home, but as he gets older, we have chosen to give him the freedom to decide where he wants to be as much as possible. Structure is still important, so we try to maintain it, at least where he sleeps which nights. Some days he chills with Maritza, doing homework or hanging out with her, and other days, he joins me and the guys in the garage to learn about cars.
We have this unique system that honest to God seems absurd. But it works. Hollis is happy, he’s thriving, and for everyone involved that is what matters.
I didn’t give Anna the contract marriage she wants and occasionally still asks me for. Even with the ink long dried on our divorce, she still finds random times to ask for a second chance with a contract marriage. Why would she want to be remarried when it clearly didn’t work the first time? I put it all in writing. She doesn’t need a marriage certificate to hold onto the things I’ve given her.
No matter how she asks or what she proposes, it’s never going to happen. Instead, we have a very detailed divorce agreement that keeps her in a lifestyle better than she had in our early marriage and I have my freedom from her downward spiral. Honestly, once things were completely finalized and I moved out, she actually has stepped up here and there to be a mom. She is more involved with Hollis not having me around than ever before. I don’t know why or how to explain it, but I’m not complaining.
Sure, I have to be very specific with her because she’s still flighty at best. She can’t always be counted on to pick him up from practices, activities, or even the regular school day. Maritza and I always try to plan to be there on the off chance she doesn’t show up. As time goes on, it happens less and less. We do give her the freedom to be the one picking him up, but Hollis knows to call us if she doesn’t. When Anna is present, now though, she is involved with our son like she wasn’t before. Life co-parenting with Anna is a rollercoaster. Some days we are up and other days we are flying down rapidly rushing into a curve or flying upside down. I don’t enjoy the ride, but I can endure it for my son’s happiness.
When things were up in the air between us, I would have rushed home to sleep in my truck in the yard. Being in the same space as her tested my patience too much, but I couldn’t be away from my son and feel okay. She had me tied down even when our relationship had long ended. Now, I know Hollis is mostly safe and he also has a phone to reach out if he needs me. This gives me the freedom to enjoy myself.
The clubhouse is packed as hard rock plays on the speakers and two prospects with a couple of the ol’ ladies work on drinks behind the bar. It’s just a regular Friday night at the clubhouse.
Everyone is dancing, drinking, playing pool, darts, or just hanging out.
Wesson “Busted” Vaughn is stationed beside the end of the bar in his wheelchair watching everyone around him. This is what he does frequently. Tuck away somewhere and observe. Don’t let the chair cause any doubts, Wesson is a badass. Before his accident, he was an elite Army Paratrooper. When he was what they call able bodied, the man was an adrenaline junky chasing adventure and thrill. Don’t think everything changes even with amputation. He is fearless even now with the loss of his legs.
Honestly, I look up to the brother. He’s always keeping shit positive when he could easily drown in the negative of his circumstances. If I was half the man he is, my demons wouldn’t have the hold on me they still do.
Moving up to him, I tap my bottle over his causing the foam to rush up and grin at his face. Silly thing we all do randomly to each other.
“Dad night out?” Wesson teases me.
“Fuckin’ coparenting shit sucks.” I take a pull from my beer, “It’s her weekend. Can’t sit in the silence.” Honesty, I can’t be this open with everyone about what an empty house does to my headspace, but Busted gets it. I can only imagine what an empty house and quiet does to him after Emmalee up and left like she did.
“Find a barfly and enjoy the time you have away.” Wesson tells me, and I simply sigh.
There isn’t a barfly that can satisfy the need inside of me. I’ve tried more than one of them. Pussy is pussy for a release, but it’s all meaningless. Sometimes a man can’t deny the pull to have someone that matters under him. The woman I want is off limits even as my mind and body crave her affection.
“Brother, you need to find a barfly and fuck Emmalee away,” I counter taking a pull from my beer. “Shit hasn’t been right with you since the broad left.” I have to stop thinking about Maritza or my night will be ruined.
He doesn’t reply. What is there to say? He’s as twisted up inside for Emmalee as I am for Maritza. The difference is he’s had a taste. I’ve had years of torment watching and knowing it can never be. Maritza and I have a pure connection. More than that, she fits into my life, my world perfectly. It can never be though. I struggle to fight the attraction, but my life is complicated, and she deserves a man without baggage.
Busted and I stay in place together in silence watching everyone around us have a good time.
Wallflowers, that is what we are tonight apparently. It’s my usual, as I’m not the most social of men. Conversation isn’t really my thing. Say what needs to be said and move on.
Maritza is out there moving her hips and swaying to each song. I’m hypnotized by her. Like a damn drug, I need a hit and can’t pull away from the allure that is all her.
“Some shit burns deep even if you have never really had it, huh?” I mutter more to myself than to Busted, but he takes notice, and I need to redirect. No one can know how I feel about Maritza. I won’t put my brother’s torn between me and her father if I was to ever even attempt something there. Off limits , I mentally remind myself what I know to my very core. “Shake her off, Busted. Women are a special hell, brother.”
He simply nods and takes a long pull of his beer. I follow suit. It’s a hard thing to literally be surrounded by people but feel completely alone. I sense Busted understands this. There are some things even the fulfillment of a cut can’t fix. The brotherhood matters above everything, but knowing outside of this family I’m alone, it hits home every moment of every day.
Everyone here is having a good time, yet I’m yearning for something more. I’ll leave here tonight, lay in a bed with nothing but a pillow for my head. There was a time where I desired nothing more than an empty bed. When shit got bad with Anna, our bed was the last place I could find rest. Having peace from that, the chapter being closed, I don’t treasure the empty bed like before.
Busted keeps drinking and for once I decide to give in alongside him. Drink for drink, beer for beer, whatever my brother does, I’m right alongside for the ride. At some point Maritza leaves and I keep tossing back the drinks with my brother.
In the dark of my position none of them notice me. It’s me, my beer, and my thoughts.
Time passes as we put them back, one beer after another, adding in a whiskey sour here and there. Busted and I both are feeling nice. Before long, we are both wasted.
I feel myself struggling to remain upright as hands grip my sides. “Alright, big guy, time for bed.” It’s Danza always taking my back , my only thought as the room spins before I pass the fuck out.
“Are you fuckin’ with me right now, Link?” I yell into my phone trying to wake the fuck up.
My head pounds while I struggle to focus on what my cousin is telling me. My mouth feels like I swallowed a pack of cotton balls, and I crave water. I look around taking in the space. How did I get here? It’s fuzzy. We are in one of the duplex crash pads. Roundman had these built ages ago on the compound so when other charters came to visit Haywood’s Landing or one of the brothers didn’t need to drive home, we had a place to sleep, shower, shit, and exist. They are used for that to this day, but also for any brother needing a roof. More than once, I stayed in one early on in the divorce. It was a safe place to have Hollis while I was working out details with Anna. I couldn’t afford to get my own spot while paying all the legal fees and keep up the mortgage on the home Anna has. I was grateful for the place then, and still now since I clearly had no business trying to make it home on my own.
Last night as we drank away our loneliness, Busted and I ended up here thanks to Boomer and Danza. It’s all beginning to come back to me. Neither of us were in a condition to drive. They tucked us in so to speak. I could almost laugh about it, if I hadn’t gotten this call. In this moment, I’m on edge and freaked the fuck out.
“Why the fuck did she do this?” I roar as anger consumes me. “He’s my fuckin’ son. She can’t leave Onslow damn county without notifying me. Are you one hundred percent it’s his tracker pinging?”
Instantly, I regret even giving Anna an ounce of trust. I could have had full custody. I had enough on her to prove negligence especially those final months when she was leaving him to go get drunk. Add the driving under the influence ticket she got with endangering a minor additional charge, there isn’t a judge in the county who would have denied me full custody. I didn’t push it because Hollis loves his mom. Until this moment, I thought, she was coming out of whatever funk was holding her back. I was wrong. Some people can’t change.
My pulse races as my mind goes crazy. Yes, I have a tracker on my son and my cousins who run an investigations company follow it for me at all times. Jacoby Investigative Services is owned and operated by Lincoln, Draven, and Nixon. They found their niche is tracking fugitive for bail bondsmen, getting evidence for civil cases like divorces, for insurance companies or businesses involved in liability cases. Thankfully for me, I’ve only ever needed them to give me the comfort and security of tracking Hollis. Granted, I never imagined actually needing to use the service. I’ll never apologize or feel sorry for going the extra mile for my family. And they won’t apologize for helping me either.
“Where did he ping last?” I pause, looking around seeing Wesson’s phone, I thank God he’s here. “Send the link to Busted’s phone. He’s here with me. I can look while we plan.”
This is a battle and its mission critical.
By this point, Busted is up, in his chair turning to grab the phone from the nightstand and wheel right to me. His eyes are full of concern and questions. This isn’t how I would want to wake up either.
I explain, “Bitch took my son out of state. Link got the alert when Hollis crossed into Georgia. He’s sending you a video from a business she’s at.”
With Busted beside me, I switch the phone to speaker. This isn’t private, this is my son. I’ll let anyone in on it that can help me get to him safely. Busted quickly puts in his passcode and we open the video.
“How far did she get?” I ask Link, then looks to Busted to spell it out, “they started calling hours ago, but my drunk ass was passed out and missed the calls and messages. If she’s still in Georgia, it’ll be a miracle. We are behind the curve ball bigger than shit.”
“Hey, we got people, Ravage will step in if she’s in Georgia. One step at a time, brother.” Wesson tries to reassures me. Yes, I’ve met some of the Ravage guys. They will do what they can … that is if he’s still in Georgia.
“She’s at a laundromat called Get the Funk Out in St. Petersburg, Florida.” Link explains. “I hacked into the camera system once Hollis’ tracker stayed in place for more than five minutes. They have been here about twenty, I guess she needed to do some laundry.”
What an odd place to stop? She doesn’t need to do laundry. Surely, if she planned this, she packed a bag, and her clothes would be clean. Same for Hollis. I slam my fist down on the table as the video comes to life. There in color on the small screen is Hollis with his mother. She’s pacing the space, hair out to there, and looking frazzled. Hollis is sitting on a bench playing on his phone, eating a pack of those white powdered donuts that possibly came from the vending machine in the laundromat, or a gas station.
“Thank fuck, he looks okay,” I state to no one in particular breathing a sigh of relief. “She’s tweaked as fuck.” I am fighting the urge to come unhinged. Me losing my shit doesn’t help Hollis come home. What the fuck has Anna done?
“I’ll get shit sorted, we’ll go down and get him,” Busted explains automatically stepping up to help me. He starts tapping away shooting off text after text on his phone. No doubt alerting everyone in the club. Thank fuck for having brothers at my back.
My hangover is forgotten as my mind races with options. Busted’s face goes pale before either us can truly process what we are seeing.
“Is that?” I ask stunned.
Busted nods and I simply stare.
Emmalee Van Etten. The woman who left his ass to go traveling is literally working right there in front of us.
Stocking the laundry supplies and wiping down machines. Emmalee Van Etten is working a t a laundromat and not traveling the world like he thought. More than that, why is she in the same room with my fucking son?
What in the actual fuck is going on?