Chapter Four - Christopher #3
Axel considered that. “What was the date of the email, counsellor?”
“Objection,” Diesel said. “Dates were not entered into the exhibit. It’s a long-standing email.”
“Overruled,” Axel said. “That was before she left Dad. She got a new attitude and she lets Dad kill motherfuckers. Evidence that the old email don’t count no more.”
“Is there anything to prove her email has been invalidated?”
“In-val-i-d,” Axel mumbled, pacing. “Invalid. Invalidated.” He looked at CJ. “Worthless?”
“Kind of, big head. Invalidated means null and void.”
“Cancelled, Ax,” Ryder said.
Axel scowled. “You know Mom didn’t send no motherfucker that, Diesel.”
“Present your closing arguments, Ax,” Diesel said instead of telling the little motherfucker he’d just lost the fucking case by blurting that.
“Who’s the jury?”
“Us, Ax,” Ryder said, indicating himself, Ransom, and CJ.
“You motherfuckers always make me lose. Except CJ.”
Ransom rolled his eyes. “You can’t toughen up by us being soft on you. We have to make you lose, so you figure out how to win.”
“Fine,” Axel huffed. “But I have a stacked jury. My case is hopeless.”
It still amazed Christopher the words Axel knew when he discussed anything regarding the law.
“Come here, Ax,” Grant Harrington said, waving him over. “Let’s confer.”
His eyes lighting up, Axel skipped to where Grant still stood between the pool tables. Ryan, Rory, and Devon sat on one. The moment Axel arrived, Grant crouched down and whispered to him.
“Say it again, Big G.” Axel pressed his ear closer to Grant. “Louder, though. I couldn’t hear you.”
Dutifully, Grant repeated whatever he’d said.
“Thanks, Grant.” Axel sped back to where Knox sat at the bar, still waiting for his drink. “Gentlemen, Knox Harrington is guilty of taking Megan Caldwell for granted. He never called her and asked if her email was different—”
“The contents of,” Grant said.
“He never called her and asked her if the contents of the email was different,” Axel amended, then gave Grant the thumbs up sign.
“He just presumed…ass out of u and me,” he said, mumbling again.
“Assumed…ass…u…me…add a ‘d’ for going backwards. Yeah, assumed. He just assumed that what she said still stood. He didn’t think about how much she’d cried since Jo got out of her or nothing.
All he thought about was what he wanted.
Not if she was tired or even had the money to buy his stupid stuffs.
I ask that you find him guilty so we can tie him to a tree and kneecap him. ”
“Goddamn, little dude,” Mort said, shaking his head. “You a cold little motherfucker.”
Axel ignored him. “The defense prosecution rests.”
“You’ve already rested your case, Axel,” Diesel said. “That’s why we’re doing closing arguments.”
“Motherfucker, you’re confusing me,” Axel said. “On purpose ‘cause your client is guilty.”
“Let Diesel do his, little cuz,” Mark JB said. “Then we can go to the basement. I want to bowl.”
“This is my closing argument,” Diesel said. “I have none. The evidence speaks for itself.”
Christopher lifted a brow at Diesel just as Axel stormed to where he stood and kicked him.
“Ouch, you little fuckhead!” Diesel yelled. “What the fuck was that for?”
“You’re disbarred! Closing arguments are fixed. You got to do them. You told me that, motherfucker.”
Diesel gnashed his teeth together. “I want a fucking drink, Axel. I want to finish preparing Knox’s drink.”
CJ smiled at Axel. “C’mon, big head. You have a presentation to make downstairs. Remember?”
“I see how it is,” Axel said morosely and hung his head. “You want to shove me down the toilet, ‘cause you’re tired of me, Diesel.”
“Of course he isn’t,” CJ rushed out, looking at Diesel for confirmation, but that motherfucker was glaring at Axel.
“Are you trying to guilt me into finishing?”
Axel straightened. “Is it working?”
“No.”
“So, you want me sad and crying, D.?”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Axel. Here’s the fucking closing argument.”
“I’m not the jury, Diesel.” Axel backed away and pointed at CJ, Ransom, and Ryder. “They are. Stop addressing me. You can be fined for trying to influence the defense prosecution.”
Diesel fucking growled, not that Christopher blamed him. He wanted to fucking growl, too. Next time, he’d tell Knox to fuck off and leave Axel to tell the motherfucker off when there were less people around. It would go quicker that way.
“Knock, knock,” Rebel said merrily, making her way in and using her crutches for once.
If possible, Diesel’s glower deepened.
“Reb!” Axel yelled, running to her and hugging her as if he hadn’t seen her in ten fucking years.
“This is the mancave, Rebel,” Diesel snapped. “Since when did you become a man?”
“The same day you became a dog, fuckface.”
“Burn, D.,” Ryder crowed.
“Uncles, cousins.” Rebel’s wave encompassed the room. “Daddy. Brothers.” She looked at Diesel.
“What do you want, Rebel?” he asked her. “If you’re counting me as your brother, you want something.”
She made a face at him. “Actually, I do. The champagne I saw you with earlier.”
“That’s for Jana and me, and it’s safely in my room. Anything else?”
“Can we have that bottle and you buy another one for her and you?” she asked.
“No,” Diesel growled.
“How about this, Dee? You buy me a bottle?”
Diesel glanced at Christopher, either because he wanted permission or guidance.
Or he was trying to gauge if Christopher would shoot him if he bought Rebel alcohol.
It didn’t matter if Christopher and Megan allowed her to drink.
She was their daughter. While Christopher wanted to believe Diesel had gotten fucking sense regarding Rebel, he wasn’t convinced, which would make the optics of what she proposed so much worse.
“Can you?” she persisted, so fucking spoiled and hardheaded she just wanted her fucking way. “Please?”
Christopher shook his head.
“One bottle,” Rebel pressed, laser focused on Diesel and not paying attention to Christopher.
“Jesus, I’d fucking shoot myself if I had a daughter,” Val said, low enough to be heard only by Christopher, Mortician, and Stretch.
“No, Rebel. I’m not buying you a fucking bottle of champagne. Would you please get the fuck out and stop fucking with me?”
“Yep. Oh, yeah, Daddy, I almost forgot, Kayce is here. Momma said it’s fine if I hang out with him and Kaia.”
Diesel, that fuckhead, growled, and Rebel grinned, quite fucking pleased with herself.
“I hope no one has a problem with it?”
Christopher had a lot of fucking problems, not the least of which was Diesel almost foaming at the fucking mouth. “Can I ask you something, Reb?”
“Sure, Daddy.”
“Where the fuck you got the fuckin’ idea you can say what the fuck you feel, do what the fuck you want, stomp, rant, and rave, and don’t have no fuckin’ consequences?”
Startled, Rebel blinked.
“Seriously, dude?” CJ asked in disapproval.
“Yeah, CJ,” Christopher snapped. “Seriously. She ain’t got it from me!”
“Isn’t Reb like you, Dad?” Axel asked in confusion.
“I ain’t spoiled and temperamental, boy.”
She looked fucking offended. It was almost as if she thought she had the right to take offense, silently implying he was like her.
Not in a million years. Besides, he had other reasons for his annoyance toward her, not the least of which was because she still had her ass on her shoulders over Torie.
“In other words, all of my bad qualities are from Momma because you’re sane, kind, and even-tempered?” Rebel asked sarcastically.
“Did you just fuckin’ call me an uncompassionate, insane psycho?” Christopher demanded, resenting that to high fucking heaven.
“Oooo, someone’s guilty,” Rebel retorted. “Besides, wouldn’t you prefer I call you that—which I didn’t by the way—then Momma?”
“But you didn’t, huh?” Axel blurted, a flash of panic on his face. “So you don’t got to bring her up. She might hear.”
“We share fifty percent of Momma’s DNA, Axel. If I didn’t get those traits from Daddy, they can only be from her.”
The horror on Axel’s face sent a wave of guilt through Christopher. Axel didn’t deserve to worry because Rebel was a brat.
Wistfulness surged into Christopher and memories of Rebel as a small kid invaded him.
She’d been so fucking easy to deal with back then.
He knew what to say. What to do. Why the fuck did she have to stop being that little girl who adored him?
He didn’t know what to do with a teenaged female, especially one as rebellious as his daughter.
The one who never knew when to shut the fuck up or back down and looked at him in a way that crushed him.
With mistrust and anger and hurt. He’d done nothing to her and he resented her attitude toward him as much as she did with him.
Before he lost his fucking temper with Rebel and her games, he’d set her straight and then send her away.
“First, watch you fuckin’ mouth, Rebel. You know I ain’t said that about your ma. If you fuckin’ tell her that, you and me gonna have problems. Second, go to your fuckin’ room. Ima send Megan up there to fuckin’ talk to you.”
“That tracks,” she sneered. “Since you don’t know what the fuck to say to me ever.”
“I fuckin’ resent that!”
“You resent a lot, Father. Luckily, I don’t give a fuck.”
“You grounded,” Christopher snapped.
“The fuck I am! You can’t brush me off, only give all your love and devotion to your sons, and then think you can discipline me. It doesn’t work that way.”
“It works exactly that way, Rebel,” Christopher said.
Grounding her was the easiest way to keep her safe.
She’d be home and he wouldn’t have to worry about her doing grown things with motherfuckers he’d kill.
Grounded, she could smoke and drink alone in her room.
Or with motherfucking Kaia. That distasteful thought angered him more and he spoke before he thought his words through.
“If you ain’t respectin’ my rules as your old man, you gettin’ the fuck out—”
Axel ran to him and clapped his hand over Christopher’s mouth. “Mom might—”