32. Melody
MELODY
The freeway passes by, one light post at a time.
Clutch and I are in the backseat while a driver takes us back to the clubhouse.
Clutch isn’t talking, just looking really pleased with himself.
Every time I look out the window, I half expect to see Rebel and the others coming to get me, but I know they’re not there.
I already checked.
And again.
I’d rather just go home, and right now, home isn’t the house I shared with Mom.
As soon as I saw Dad I got a sinking feeling that I had made a mistake.
I trust their word that the Eagles won’t hurt him more than he already is unless they can prove he’s the shooter, but I can’t shake the sense that something has gone wrong.
Was it my fault? I don’t know, and that’s what makes it so frustrating.
“Uncle Clutch?” Calling him ‘uncle’ is starting to sound weird in my head, but it feels even stranger to not say it. It’s been that way my whole life.
“Hm?” He’s pulled out of his thoughts and has to recalibrate. “What’s up?”
“What happened back there? Do you think Dad’s okay?”
“Melody, honey, you can’t be that naive. Your father is in a lot of trouble,” he says, like I’m five, and not a grown woman.
“But do you really think Dad could be the shooter? It just seems out of character.”
“You don’t really know your father, Dee. He’s not a good man.”
That wasn’t an answer. “But you have some kind of proof, right? Or a plan to get him back?”
Annoyed, he rubs the bridge of his nose. “I know this aspect of his life is new to you, but there are some harsh truths in this world, and one of them is that sometimes shit has to happen for the good of the club.”
Alarm bells are ringing in the back of my head.
I nod. Casually, I pull out my phone and start scrolling.
I put a whole bunch of numbers in my phone before we left, like all of the guys and a bunch of the old ladies.
Maybe I’m being paranoid, but I set my phone to silent and click Mad Dog’s contact before slipping my phone to the side of my leg where the screen isn’t visible. The call connects.
“But Dad’s your friend. Don’t you want to help him?”
“I really fucking hate to be the one to say this, since your father’s been my friend for years, but he turned on me and the club. It doesn’t change how I feel about you, Dee, but I had to do what I did for the good of the Devil’s Brigade.”
“You’re not making any sense. What is it you think he actually did?”
“Rebellion. He’s planning on replacing Rocco. He thinks he’d do a better job than our current president. He even told me about it, and when I didn’t agree, he got violent and threatened me.”
“What? I can’t imagine him ever hurting you. That’d be crazy.” Dad? Really?
Clutch’s face screws up into an annoyed scowl. “Ambition is a poison, Dee. Why is it so hard for you to believe that your father killed a man? Two, actually.”
“But why? And why would he have invited me to the rally and given me that gun to keep safe?” I’m going out on a limb here because I don’t know with one hundred percent certainty that he was the one who put it there, but I can’t think of any other way it got there and I want to see his reaction.
“Gun in your bag?” He turns to me, face scarily blank. “What gun?”
“I don’t know, but if Dad was the shooter, then it must’ve been the murder weapon, right?” Playing this stupid actually hurts. “But wait, why would he have people waiting at our house? And the people looking for me at the hospital?”
He laughs, and it sounds hollow. “What the fuck have they been filling your head with while you’ve been gone, girl? Don’t you trust me?”
“O—of course. I just don’t want my father hurt if he didn’t do anything. Is that so strange?”
“No, I understand perfectly, honey. What happened to the gun?”
“Hm?”
Clutch’s smile is as fake as it comes. “The gun you said Joker gave to you.”
“Oh, the Screaming Eagles have it. They’re doing some sciency stuff on it I think. To make sure they get the right person.” I’m lying straight through my teeth.
“Sounds like you got pretty friendly with them if you know all that. More like you were a guest than a prisoner.” He laughs.
I slip my hand to my phone and check the screen to see if the call is still going. It is.
“Hey Uncle Clutch, do you know who invited me to the rally?”
“Joker, obviously.”
“He said he didn’t though, and he was really surprised to see me. Maybe someone told you wrong.”
“Must be.”
“So maybe Dad didn’t shoot that guy?”
“Will you fucking stop it already!” he yells. “I don’t give a shit if you believe me or not. So long as they do, that’s all that matters. Your father’s no fucking saint and—what are you doing? Give me that!”
Before I can stop him, he snatches my phone, and since it’s in the middle of a call, the screen is already unlocked. “Who’re you talking to?”
I reach for the phone. “A friend. Could I have it back, please?”
He laughs darkly. “I don’t think so.”
“It’s my phone, Clutch. I thought I was safe here. What is this?”
“No ‘uncle’ anymore, huh? I suppose you had to grow out of it eventually.” He ends the call.
“This really could’ve been much easier for both of us if you’d just kept your fucking mouth shut.
Your obsession with the Screaming Eagles is disgusting.
You’re as big a traitor as your daddy. I want you to know I was going to let you go.
I didn’t want to do this, but you’re giving me no fucking choice. ”
“Just give me my phone and stop the car. I’ll figure out my own way home.”
“You’re as stubborn as your old man. And as bullheaded. And maybe a little slow.” He slides the phone into his jeans pocket. “We’re almost there.”
“Insulting me isn’t going to help anything. Or stealing my things. Give it back.” A week ago I would’ve been more intimidated, but I’ve been through a lot since then, and I’ve felt what it’s like to actually get support. “Where are we actually going?”
He reaches forward to pat the shoulder of our driver. The driver turns to look at us, and I get my first real look at his face. “Yeah?”
“Hey, you were at the rally.” With everything that’s happened, I totally forgot I saw Clutch at the rally, and the guy he was walking with.
The driver grins like a cat that’s cornered a mouse. “You’re right, I was.” There’s something dead and lethal in the look he gives me that sends chills up my spine.
“We’re going with plan B,” Clutch tells him. “Exit 94.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
“I really need you to give me my phone back.” I don’t expect him to listen, and I’m not disappointed.
“Trust me, Dee, you’re not gonna be needing it where you’re going.”
Shit.