Chapter 22
*~* Cannon *~*
When Pres walks into the shed, I have to hide my face.
He walks in carrying a tray. On the tray is an empty bourbon glass, a full bottle of bourbon, an ashtray, and a large cigar.
He places the tray on one of the counters at the side of the room, next to a selection of tools.
The tools all look innocent enough until you remember their purpose in being there.
He lights the cigar, takes a few deep pulls on it and releases the smoke as he tilts his head back, exaggerating his enjoyment. He half-fills the glass with bourbon, then grabs a chair and sits opposite Mella, but far enough away that he won’t be in anyone’s way when the time comes.
So far, Mella hasn’t done anything dramatic, no pleading, nothing.
She has just been sitting there, tied up, of course, but quiet.
I think we all noticed what Pres had noticed when he told us to bring her here.
Her eyes are glazed, and she is showing the classic signs of needing her next fix. Yes, she’s on drugs.
“Mella. You are going to tell us everything we want to know, and anything that we don’t know to ask, you’re going to fill in the blanks. Is that perfectly clear?” Pres’ voice is quiet and calm, which makes it all the more ominous. He takes a puff on his cigar and a swallow from his bourbon.
Mella doesn’t answer, she just stares at him. Her eyes look dead, and it’s clear that she doesn’t understand the position she is in.
“MELLA!” Pres shouts at her, and her head snaps up. That has got her attention. “Where are you getting the drugs?” She doesn’t answer, but a sneer crosses her face. “Griller, you first.”
Griller slaps Mella hard across the face, making her head snap each way with every strike. None of us enjoy this shit, especially when it involves a woman, but we do what we have to. Six slaps and her face is bleeding again from the damage inflicted by Barbara.
“Where did you get the drugs? Who is your supplier?” Pres takes another swallow of the bourbon and a long pull on the cigar.
Mella looks at him, and the tears start.
Tears, snot, and saliva run down her face and chin.
“You can make this as easy or as hard as you want. We have all the time in the world, Mella. All the time in the world.” It would appear she wants to do this the hard way, as she remains silent.
“Breaker.” Pres sits back as though he’s at home watching a movie, but I can see that he doesn’t like this at all. He is tense and his cheek has developed a tic.
Breaker steps forward, and this time it is a fist that lands. Mella is unconscious after the first hit. I take the bucket of water that is always available for these occasions and throw it over Mella. She splutters back to consciousness and begins coughing, then screaming.
“Carlos, he supplies the drugs at the college. I got them from him.” Her voice is on the verge of breaking as the pain returns to her face. “No more. Please? I got them from Carlos. He gives them away at first, but he soon gets any price he asks for once he has you hooked.”
“Why did you start taking? You had it good here, surely?” I ask before I realize I’m interrupting Pres.
“It wasn’t for me at first.”
“Then who would you get…Bandit! It was you who started him on drugs. Why would you do that?” My anger surges forward, and I have to restrain myself from hitting her. “How did you get a brother hooked on drugs without anyone knowing?”
Her voice is thick with the damage to her lips and face, but she sounds almost proud of herself.
“It wasn’t difficult. Bandit was already in a downward spiral.
He knew Jamie would never be his, but he didn’t want anyone else having her either.
When she got together with Fury, it was simple to push his buttons and turn him to drinking heavier and heavier.
After that, it was easy to get him hooked. ”
“What good would that do, though? For what purpose?” Pres takes back the reins at this point.
“I wanted to be an old lady. To be taken care of, have no money worries, not have to lie on my back, or kneel for a different man every hour. I thought he’d be easy pickings once he was hooked, but it made him worse.
He became abusive with us clubwomen. He would curse at us and ridicule us.
He stopped having only me and began to turn to the others.
He’d been good to me up until then.” She’s crying again and completely oblivious to the fact that Bandit had become a monster of her own making.
“You made him what he is now. You’re the reason he’s in rehab.
I’ve heard enough.” Pres walks over to his tray and puts his ash tray, cigar and glass down.
He walks back, picks the bottle of bourbon from the floor by his chair and returns that to the tray.
He turns and stands in front of Mella, a hand on each side of her head, looking into her eyes.
“You were never going to be anyone’s old lady, Mella. You didn’t have what it takes to be one.” With that, he twists her head sharply, and we all hear the snap of her neck. “Get rid of her as quickly as possible, Cannon. And don’t lose the fucking body this time.”
Taking his tray, he leaves the three of us to clean up. Breaker laughs as soon as the door closes behind Pres. “Yeah, Cannon. Don’t lose the body this time.”
Once the shed is all cleaned up and I’ve sent Zion and Prophet in the van with Mella’s body to the crem, I take time to catch up with Barbara in the rec room.
All credit to her, she doesn’t ask any questions and we just sit and relax at a table.
While we’re doing this, there’s a commotion at the front door and Mateo walks in.
I say walks, more like hobbles while being supported by Ghost. I jump up and take his other side, and we help him to a couch.
He looks better than he did, but not as good as he used to.
Fury walks in and immediately rushes to Mateo’s side.
Leaving them to it, I sit with Barbara once again and chill out.
I try to chill out, but my head is jumping from one thing to another.
My truck is still out there somewhere. Mella’s death and her actions leading up to it.
Bandit’s downhill spiral and ultimately rehab.
Mateo’s beating and what could be a slow recovery.
Now we have drugs in the town again and particularly at the damn college.
The clubhouse seems to be taking a breath all of its own as we all sit in our respective little groups. It’s not that we aren’t ‘all for one, one for all’, so much as we are just all in our own little worlds at this point.
The peace is shattered when Spirit walks into the clubhouse.
Shattered is probably the wrong word, as she comes in quietly enough, it’s just the aura that she brings with her.
She walks directly up to Ghost who is sitting on a bar stool at the bar.
Obviously expecting the worst, he slips off the stool, so he is standing before her.
“He asked me to bring him here, Spirit. I only did as he asked.” Ghost holds his hands up in mock surrender, and I see her turn her attention to Mateo.
“I sent you a text. I couldn’t stay in that place a minute longer. I had to get out to save my sanity.” Mateo holds up his phone as though this is some kind of apology.
“I didn’t get a text. If I had, you would still be resting in that hospital bed, you muppet.”
“She loves him. She called him a muppet.” The words are whispered by me to Barbara, but obviously not quietly enough, as Spirit’s eyes bore into me like lasers. She turns and walks towards the offices, and we all breathe a sigh of relief.
Mateo tries to get the lowdown on everything that has been going on, but we keep him in the dark as much as possible.
He knows about Pattie being his deputy, and when she appears he sits her on the couch with him, and they start talking shop.
Fury and the pair of them go at it like school kids as they discuss the bar and all their aspirations for the place.
Fury and Pattie are still jabbering away when Spirit walks back into the room. She stands before them, and they both take a second before they realize she is there.
“Really, Fury? You’re determined to kill him, is that it?” Her laser stare burns into him, and then Pattie breaks the spell.
“Sorry, Spirit. We three got carried away at the prospect of the bar opening.” This is when everyone else in the room notices that Mateo is fast asleep and probably worn out from the excitement.
“Well, my prospect is not staying here. He needs complete rest, and you lot aren’t going to see he gets it.” She turns and storms back to where she had just come from. Whoever’s office it may have been.
Seconds later, she is back, with Pres in tow. “He’s coming home with me, and that’s final. This is not resting, this is exhaustion and he’s only been back an hour.”
Pres looks like he’s about to argue, but then Spirit whistles. Seconds later, two dogs rush into the room to stand by her side. Ghost steps carefully toward Spirit but stops when the Rottweiler looks at him. The Malinois seems to be fixated on Pres, who hasn’t moved a muscle since they appeared.
“Ghost, help this young lady get Mateo safely ensconced at her place, wherever that may be, and you can fill me in when you get back. I think Mateo will be in safe hands and paws.” Pres nods to Spirit and she nods back.
Once she has the dogs out of the room, Ghost and I carry Mateo, still blissfully unaware, out to her truck. She takes off home with her precious cargo and Ghost follows on his hog.
When he gets back, he gets bombarded with questions and fills us all in on Spirit and her story.
I notice that he is very careful with certain details, such as where she lives.
He also redirects the conversation away from her when he explains that she is the daughter of the man who should have cared for Thorn.
Telling that story diverts everyone’s thoughts away from her very nicely.
Finally, all alone and in our room, Barbara asks what happened with Mella.
Giving her as brief a description as I can, I see her fill in the blanks in her own mind.
Lying together on the bed, she snuggles into me and I wrap an arm around her.
Surprisingly, neither of us initiate lovemaking and the clubhouse enjoys an evening spared from our high decibel antics.