Killian #2
“Yeah… well… maybe I took it too far. Truth be told, I don’t remember any of it.
Not beyond walking in the door and seeing what I saw.
” I close my eyes and swallow against the knot in my throat.
“There was so much fucking blood, Jhene. Mom’s eye socket…
her face… I don’t know what would’ve happened that night if I hadn’t blacked out the way I did. ”
“Honestly? It sounds like she would’ve been the vegetable, not him. If she even survived.”
“Yet she resents me for it. Sixteen fucking years, and she’s never forgiven me.”
Jhene reaches out and touches my arm. “Abusive relationships are complicated. Your mom… has a blind loyalty to your father. It doesn’t matter that he used to hurt her. That he could’ve killed her—or her kids. Her head is messed up, and she’s convinced herself that’s love.”
“Guess it explains why I’m so fucked in the head. What kind of person wants to fight for a living?”
“That’s not how I see it.”
“You’re biased.”
The smallest smile sneaks onto her face. “True. But I like to think I’m right anyway.”
“Is that any surprise? You’re stubborn as a damn mule,” I say, reaching out to squeeze her thigh. “By the way, don’t take my mother’s behavior personally. She’s never liked any woman I’ve dated—the few I have let her meet.”
“No worries. I’m not that charming, so pretty sure your mom wouldn’t have liked me no matter who she was.” She reaches for her seatbelt to buckle herself in. “So where are we headed next? Back to the studio?”
“If I go back to the studio right now, I might lose my mind. You want to know why I train at Malone’s so much? Why I go to the Rialto late at night? That’s why.”
She tilts her head, a thoughtful look on her face. “So let’s go somewhere else.”
“Somewhere else? What place would that be?”
“Remember how I’ve told you you need to let loose sometimes? You need to celebrate yourself and do something other than work-related stuff?” she asks, the small smile returning. “How about if we go spend the day doing that? Letting loose a little?”
“You suggesting that? You’re almost as big of a grump as I am.”
“Which is why we both need it.”
I sit back in the driver’s seat and consider her idea.
She’s got a point that I rarely, if ever, do anything that’s purely for entertainment.
The closest to that is my visits to the Rialto, but even that’s a piss poor example considering it’s usually late at night and it’s one of the only places open.
But the last time I blocked out an entire day to enjoy myself? To do something other than train for fights or handle clan business?
It’s easily been years.
“Alright,” I say, twisting the key in the ignition. “What did you have in mind?”
Jhene’s smile only spreads. “Drive.”
The last time I came to Coney Island, I was twelve and not yet angry at the world. Me and Maeve had come at the start of summer using birthday money we had stashed away from our Granny Alice.
We rode the Cyclone six times and both threw up once. We stuffed our faces with cotton candy and played for hours at the arcade games. By the end of the long summer day, we were exhausted and red faced from all the sun.
But we had had the time of our lives. It was one of the last happy childhood memories we ever shared together.
As Jhene and I arrive twenty years later, the park still has the same spirit. It’s the air of endless possibility and excitement. An immediate reminder that even though a couple decades have passed, some things have stayed the same too.
Jhene peers up at the park as nostalgically as I do.
“Me and Eva used to come here,” she says. “Mom brought us every summer. She loved eating the funnel cake and browsing the shops while me and Eva rode all the rides.”
I glance over at Jhene and realize what this means to her. Why she even suggested we come here.
This was a place where she once enjoyed herself. There hasn’t been a lot of that for her in recent years.
“Sounds like me and Maeve,” I say. I slide my arm around her shoulders and pull her up against me. “Want to find out if we can still hang with our younger selves?”
“Something tells me the answer to that is a big fat hell NO.”
“Something tells me you’re right. But we won’t know ’til we give it a shot.”
We set off into the park like two explorers headed for an adventure.
Jhene’s hand is warm in mine as we walk along the boardwalk, her eyes wide as she takes in the sights and sounds.
It’s nice to see her like this. An instant mood improvement for me too.
“What was your favorite part?” I ask. “Back when you’d come as a kid?”
“The Wonder Wheel.” She points toward the huge Ferris wheel in the distance, its colorful cars swaying gently in the summer breeze. “We’d sit at the top and look out at the ocean and pretend we could see all the way to Europe.”
“Me and Maeve used to say China.”
She laughs. “Could you imagine if we ever ran into each other?”
“Actually yeah. You, your sister, and my sister would instantly get along and skip off to go enjoy the park while I stayed behind and scowled.”
“That… doesn’t sound too implausible.”
“So what ride first?” I ask, sweeping my arm toward the various rides in the near distance.
Her brows rise. “Me choosing first? I don’t think so. We’re here to cheer you up and get you to enjoy yourself. First pick is yours.”
“Alright, but don’t say I didn’t give you an out. We’re going big, stray.” I grab her hand as I take us in the direction of Coney Island’s infamous wooden roller coaster known as the Cyclone.
First built in the 1920s, the coaster looks every bit of its age. The wooden structure creaks as a train of cars zips by above our heads and a chorus of screams go off from the passengers inside.
“Ready?”
Jhene heaves a sigh. “Why didn’t I see this part coming? I got myself into this mess, didn’t I?”
“Afraid so, stray. Come on. We’re sitting right up front.”
Minutes later, we’re strapped into the car and climbing the first hill. Jhene’s gripping the bar keeping her safe and cussing under her breath. She’s taken off her glasses and stored them in one of the lockers at the ride entrance.
I’m beside her, fighting off a grin of amusement but also getting a reality check my damn self. Peering down at the top of the hill is a sobering experience.
We’re at least sixty or seventy feet above ground, momentarily suspended in air.
Then the drop comes.
We plunge down at high speeds as the other riders erupt in screams and Jhene swears more. I start laughing listening to the sailor mouth I wasn’t aware she had.
“Oh fuck!” she screams, curls whipping in the wind. “Oh damn, no… no-no-no! Shit, not again!”
It’s one of the funniest things I’ve seen in a while.
Jhene screaming every cuss word she can think of as we speed across the track and then plunge down the other side.
The ride lasts about two minutes but feels much longer than that. My stomach’s aching by the time we finally stumble off.
“You good?”
“Perfect,” she pants. “Totally fine. Not regretting this decision at all.”
The next coaster’s her pick. She seems to realize this as we leave the Cyclone behind and she resolves herself to making me suffer in payback.
“That one,” she says, pointing. “We’re doing that one next.”
“You sure? You look like you’re about to pass out.”
“I’m fine. I’m great. I’m—” She draws a shaky breath and squares her shoulders. “I’m doing it again. Unless you’re too scared, Killer.”
“I don’t get scared,” I answer plainly. “If anything, that coaster should be afraid of me. Not the other way around.”
She snorts as we head toward the Thunderbolt. “Who are you, Chuck Norris or something? Don’t talk a big game ’til you prove it!”
The Thunderbolt gives us whiplash.
We’re thrown around so many times, going down steep drops and jerked by sharp turns on the track, it’s hard to even follow what the hell’s going on.
This time we’re both yelling profanities into the wind, pissing people off with our dirty mouths. But we don’t give a damn as we hang on for the ride and wind up buzzing by the end.
“That was… that was insane!” Jhene cries out afterward. She’s stopped trying to keep her curls contained and decided to let them do as they wish, blowing in the summer air. “Okay, maybe I’m remembering what I used to love about these things.”
We ride two more rollercoasters back to back.
The Astrotower, which is a straightforward high-level drop sort of ride, taking us up a thousand feet in the air and then dropping us back down. It’s a quick ride, but one that leaves you questioning if you’re about to lose your lunch.
The Zenobio’s the one that gets me. The table’s have turned, and Jhene’s the one laughing as we’re rotating in circles midair, and I wind up growling and hurling threats at the ride itself.
The fucking thing feels like it’s about to slip off its axis the way it sweeps us a hundred feet into the air and then launches us into somersaults.
Our legs shake coming off it. Our eyes meet and we draw the same conclusion.
“Okay,” she admits. “Maybe it’s time for a break from the coasters.”
“Lightweight.”
“Shut up,” she snaps, though her eyes glimmer with amusement. “Feed me and I’ll recover. I demand funnel cake.”
A chuckle leaves me. “Alright, you’ve got a point. We’re running on empty stomachs.”
“Good,” she huffs. “My blood sugar’s crashing, and if I don’t eat something fried and covered in powdered sugar in the next five minutes, I will not be responsible for my actions.”
“Down, stray. I’ll get food in you yet.”
We weave between the crowds roaming the boardwalk area and head off toward the food stalls.
Another thing that hasn’t changed after all these years—the funnel cake’s as fried and sugary as my brain remembers it.
We’re handed a plate piled high with fried dough and dusted with powdered sugar that seems more like an advertisement for diabetes.
But damn if we don’t dig in and tear off big greedy pieces for ourselves.
“This is a little too good.”
“You’ve gotten sugar all over you.”
Her tongue slips out for a swipe of her lips. “So do you, Killer. It’s in your beard.”