Rising (3 page)

Bobby Jack thrust the handle of the shovel in his face. “Get to digging.” His cousin twisted around. “I saw an ID sitting in the console when I slipped it in neutral. Got anything you want to talk about, Riley?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Actually, there are a few things I would like to discuss with you,
Bobby Jack
.”

“This should be interesting. I’m listening.” His cousin leaned on the fender.

“Your daddy is recruiting. I think he is making a play for territory. He is only a threat if he can get the neo-Nazis on board.” Riley rammed the edge of the shovel into the dirt. “I can’t let him succeed.”

Bobby Jack pursed his lips. “I can’t help you. I have Whit and little man to consider.”

“I ain’t asking for your support, dumb ass. I’m letting you know that if I become distant, there is a reason.” He promised to protect Bobby Jack, and this was the only way he could do it.

“Yeah, okay. Why join the brotherhood? Leave those crazy assholes alone. They promote racism, but that’s more like a cover. They are more of a criminal entity. You got away from them once. Why go back to them now?” Bobby Jack crossed his arms. “Some of the shit they do in prison is foul.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Riley sat on the hood. “I never left.”

“When you moved out of Isaac’s house, I thought you gave it all up.”

“How could I? I had a little money, but not enough to get a room. I had nowhere to go. That left me with one choice. Talk to the group that hated Isaac as much as I did. New World Watch members gave me a place to live, and helped me get a GED before getting me on the rig.” It was time his kin learned some hard truths. “The only reason no one has bothered you is because of me, and your daddy ain’t powerful enough to challenge me.”

“But you don’t…”

“I don’t what?” He snickered. “I have teachers, government officials, and everyday common folk in NWW. We have learned to assimilate. We don’t all shave our heads or spout rhetoric in public.”

“Whit?” Bobby Jack leaned forward. “How far up are you in the brotherhood?”

“I run the Southeast Territory.” Riley straightened. “I know you love a black woman. I don’t like it, but it’s your choice. I made your mama a promise to keep you safe and that’s what I am doing. I wanted you to know there will come a time when I have to shut Isaac down.”

“I’m right here!” The toddler yelled out. “Can I get out of the truck now?”

“Do what you have to do. Keep me out of it.” Bobby Jack moved to the side and stopped. “For someone who isn’t fond of black people, why are you helping a black woman?”

“Come again?” Riley tilted his head.

“The ID in the console belongs to a black woman with long hair and a pretty smile. Sound familiar? I know relations with someone other than a white woman is—looked down upon—but you’re digging out a car for one. I wonder why.” Bobby Jack hummed as he climbed up into the cab.

“You little shit.” Riley started digging.

Riley let his mind drift to those years with his Aunt Elizabeth. He could clue his cousin in on some things, but not everything.

Those last few days of his aunt’s life were hard. Isaac disappeared after he and some Klansmen beat up her doctor. That left him and his cousins to fend for themselves. There was nothing to eat in the ramshackle trailer. Clay and Andy took to robbing their neighbors, and tried to include the youngest family member in on their little crime sprees.

Riley actually had to go to school and made sure that he towed Bobby Jack with him in order to keep the boy out of trouble.

He was at his wit’s end when he’d snuck into the hospital to visit Aunt Elizabeth.

*

Riley crept past the heavy metal door and wrinkled his nose at the antiseptic smell that permeated the hospital room. The space was cold, to the point he’d wished he brought a jacket. He raised the collar of his shirt to fend off the chill. Machines beeped and a faint light gave the space an ethereal glow. On the nightstand was a mason jar full of yellow wildflowers. His cousin, Bobby Jack, must have come by to see his mother.

He shuffled closer to the bed, and the soles of his tennis shoes squeaked on the linoleum floor. His aunt’s frail frame was hidden, buried beneath a mountain of blankets. He’d swallowed and glanced at the closed door. No one passed by the sliver of window that gave him a view into the hallway. It was after visiting hours and he wasn’t supposed to be there.

His Uncle Isaac had been on a serious bender ever since the doctors told the old man there was nothing more they could do, but make his Aunt Elizabeth comfortable. His heart pounded in his chest as tears rolled down his cheek.

When Riley’s momma died, Lizzie was the one that came to collect him. Despite his uncle’s griping and complaining, she stood her ground with a shotgun in her hand and told Isaac to go jump in a creek, he was living with them. End of discussion. He leaned on the railing and the metal squeaked. Aunt Lizzie was the strongest person he knew; she didn’t cotton to nobody.

Lizzie’s lids fluttered open. She twisted her head. A soft smile lifted the edge of her mouth. “Riley Joe, I was hoping you would come visit me.” Her voice was a whisper he had to strain to hear. “You always was a good boy. I’m sorry I thought we would have more time together.”

“Hey Auntie, it took me a while but I got here.” He kept his tone low. “Don’t worry about it. I’m happy for the time I got to spend with you. If it wasn’t for you, I would have been on the streets.” He had to breathe through the words, as despair at her appearance wreaked havoc within him.

Gone were her long sable locks of thick shiny hair, replaced by a white knitted cap. A network of miniscule blue veins could be seen beneath her translucent skin on her face. Her sunken eyes had lost their sparkle. They were a strange shade of brown, the color of a dark honey with lighter flecks of green. As she got sicker, they dulled like old dishwater. She was never a big woman, but she was imposing. Watching her lay there in the twin bed as her strength slowly seeped away until she was a shell of her former self was hard.

“Riley Joe, I got a favor to ask you.” She struggled to rise up in the bed. “Now I’m depending on you ’cause you’re the only one I can trust.”

He leaned forward and slid the pillow down her back. “Yes, ma’am.” He choked out the words.

“I left a letter explaining everything in a coffee can in the shed. Third shelf behind the clothespins.” She chuckled. “I knew Isaac wouldn’t look around the laundry stuff. Best hiding place in the world, since that man ain’t did a lick of washing in his life. I need you to watch out for Bobby Jack. Isaac ain’t going to treat him right once I’m gone.”

He nodded. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

“You don’t understand.” She reached out and cupped his jaw. “You are strong and the spitting image of your daddy when he was a good man, I think.” Her lids drifted shut. “I left a little money in the can, too, enough for two bus tickets. Take Bobby Jack and get as far from Isaac as the funds will take you. Don’t trust nobody. Start a new life fresh from the stench of Isaac, his kin, and the Klan.”

“But Aunt Liz…” Confusion filled his mind.

“They don’t mean you no good, Riley Joe. I ain’t got much time in this world. Listen good, Bobby Jack is your brother and I expect you to keep him safe. I left everything you need to know in a letter in the shed.” She fell back in the bed.

What the hell?
He lowered the rails to get closer to his aunt. Her chest heaved up and down in slow raggedy breaths. “Aunt Elizabeth…Lizzie?”

She dropped her hand. “I made some mistakes, and my biggest one was giving you up to my sister. There really wasn’t any other choice I could make. I was young and stupid, but I never regretted you. Bobby Jack is the best parts of me; but you, son, you are the man your daddy should have been.” Her words were breathless. “I know I don’t have no rights to ask anything of you, so I’m hoping you’ll take pity on a sick woman and abide by her deathbed wish.”

“Aunt Lizzie.” He didn’t know what else he could say.

“I know you’ll do right by Bobby Jack. I named you both…” She drifted off.

“Aunt Lizzie!” He yelled and reached out to shake her.

“You’re not supposed to be in here.” A nurse held the door ajar with her foot. “Let the poor woman sleep.”

Riley bowed his head and pushed past the woman mumbling, “Sorry.”

*

He’d headed straight home and found the coffee can in the shed late that night. Two envelopes, one for him and one for Bobby Jack, were stuffed in the tin with a hundred dollars’ worth of twenties crammed in the middle. He never opened his letter; he didn’t have the nerve.

The money got used when he left home; he’d tried so hard to take Bobby Jack with him, but he was no match for Isaac then. The can was in his house on a shelf in the back of the pantry. Maybe it was time to give his cousin his inheritance.

Small hands covered his own. He gazed down to see Little Isaac standing next to him. “What exactly are you doing, boy?”

“Helping.” His little finger flexed with every lift of the shovel.

“I appreciate it. Can you tell your daddy to hook up the chain?”

Little Isaac stared up at him through clear green eyes and pointed.

“I already did it, while you were fantasizing about the black woman with the pretty smile. Wait till I tell Whit.” Bobby Jack sat on the tail gate. His nephew ambled away and stood before his daddy, raising his arms. His cousin leaned over and lifted the boy onto the truck bed.

“It wasn’t her I was thinking about,” Riley grumbled.

“Come on, lover boy, it’s getting late and I have a date with my wife.” Bobby Jack leaped up from his seat. “Ms. Mays has agreed to babysit.”

“You never ask me to watch the little guy. It’s always the faggots or the old woman.” Annoyance skittered through him at the idea that his kin didn’t trust him with a child.

“Here I thought you were becoming enlightened.” Bobby Jack shook his head. “The gay guys are on tour with some dance group, and Isaac likes hanging out with Ms. Mays. Why—do you want to babysit?”

“Not really.” Riley shrugged.

“Then what’s your point?” His cousin stood and lifted his son from the tailgate before walking toward the cab. “Sometimes I wonder if there is something wrong with you. Come on, son.”

Little Isaac ran behind him.

A burst of laughter escaped him. He tossed the shovel in the truck bed and slammed the tailgate.

Once he returned the convertible to its owner—that was one more promise kept. Maybe she would stop making appearances in his dreams now.

Chapter Three

The buzz and snap of the copy machine drowned out the voice of the lawyer who stuck his head around the corner. He resembled a guppy out of water and his glasses only made his eyes look bigger. She laughed at the idea and pressed the off button. The small space suddenly became totally quiet.

“Sorry, Brad, I didn’t hear you?”

“I said I left a file on your desk I need you to look at. The couple is coming in this afternoon.” He pushed his frames higher up on his nose.

“I’ll look at it after I finish going over this brief. Is there anything in particular you want me to look for?” Her finger hovered over the console. She wanted to get her current project out of the way and get back to her office. New cases excited her.

“It’s interesting. The mother is a convicted drug addict slash dealer and she is suing for full custody of her son. However, she’s not the client. The child’s father has full custody and he is remarried, so he can provide a stable home. He is petitioning for termination of her parental rights, but he also has a criminal record. They’ve both done their time and are both on parole. This case could go either way. It truly depends on the parents.” Brad waggled his brows.

“Oooh, a page turner.” She pushed the start button and the noise resumed.

Her phone dinged and she slid it from her jacket pocket. The message icon flashed and she slid her finger across the screen.
Your car is ready
. She did a little jig.

Her convertible had been in the parking lot of her apartment building, covered in dirt, and it had some minor scratches on the fender, but her luggage was still in the trunk and nothing was disturbed in the interior. The only thing moved was her old ID from the law firm she’d worked at in Atlanta. It was left on the passenger seat.

The good-looking guy from the bar had kept his word. At least she didn’t have to report the car missing to the police. When she arrived home from work the day before, the vehicle was parked in a guest spot outside her apartment building.

She really should thank the man for retrieving her baby, but she had no way of reaching him. Riley—was that a common name in this state? She collected the collated document and dropped her cell on top of them.

Her phone vibrated, skittering across the paper as she walked down the hall, a generic melody floating behind her. It stopped as she entered her office. She set the load on her desk and grabbed the cell, swiping her fingers across the screen. It rang again with a number, but no ID attached. She tapped the speaker button. “Hello.”

“Why aren’t you answering your phone?” Della’s disapproving tone filled the air.

It had been weeks since she’d spoken to her mom. “I must have done something wrong if you’re calling.” Her parents were miles away. They couldn’t hurt her anymore; and yet, whenever she spoke to her mom, she became the little girl desperate to win her mother’s approval.

“We need your new address to send you an invitation to Charlotte’s wedding. We’re also a bit short on funds for the reception, and wanted to know if you’re willing to contribute something toward your sister’s special day.”

Savannah narrowed her eyes at the device. They wanted her to help pay for her siblings nuptials to the man she was once engaged to.
Get the hell out of here
. “Exactly how much money do you need?”

She rose and closed her door. When she said no, she could imagine the ensuing fight.

“The reception is…” Papers shuffled in the background. “Twenty- three thousand, seven hundred dollars.”

“So what portion are you paying for?” She leaned back in her chair.

“At the moment we are strapped for cash.” Della sniffed. “We take care of each other, and right now Charlotte needs you. She was even entertaining the idea of asking you to be in the wedding party.” Her mother’s desperation was clear from the last statement. They wouldn’t take family portraits with her. To offer a place in the bridal party must mean they had no other options.

“Do tell, when have you ever taken care of me?” Savannah shook her head at the device.

“All your life, you ungrateful—”

She interrupted her mother. “Charlotte hasn’t bothered to contact me regarding my participation in her day.”
And probably never would.

“How do you know since you don’t bother to answer your phone?” Della snapped. “I said we talked about it, not that she would ask you to actually do it. She does have the final say, after all, and after viewing the bridesmaid dresses, we decided your body type wouldn’t be a good fit for the group. I’m sure you understand with pictures and all, you wouldn’t fit in. Come to think of it, perhaps you shouldn’t attend since you and Dwayne have a bit of history.”

“That’s fine.” She closed her eyes

“I hope this doesn’t change your decision to help Charlotte.” Della’s voice softened. “We all need to chip in when we can.”

“I didn’t agree to pay for her reception.” She kept her tone calm.

“Why are you always so selfish?” The chill returned to her mother’s words. “You’re lucky to have a family. Think about all those children that grew up without the benefit of parents to help them.”

“Tell me how you really feel.” She could feel tears starting. She would not cry. A brisk knock on her door called her attention away from the conversation. “I have to go. Some of us do work.” She tapped the end button. “Yes?” she called out to whoever was on the other side of the barrier.

Brad pushed the door open and stepped halfway in. “I wasn’t sure if I gave you the appointment time for my clients.”

“No, you didn’t.” She pressed the back of her hand to her eyes. “Sorry, allergies have me tearing up.”

“Watery eyes and a runny nose.” A soft smile graced his mouth. “That can be an issue. Our clients will be here at three.”

“Thank you. I’ll get the notes to you within the hour.” She plastered on a bright smile and reached for the file in her inbox.

“I’m not sure if anyone has told that you are a fantastic addition to the team. Your diligence is appreciated.” He shut the door with a definitive click.

She opened the folder and peered at the paper. Words blurred and tears fell settling in little circular droplets across the sheets. She pressed her knuckles to her eyes to stem the flow and folded her lips against one another to keep from crying out aloud. Her shoulders shook as she sobbed silently. She pounded her chest with her fist to move the knot forming around her heart.

What was wrong with her that she didn’t deserve love? What would it take for someone to care about her?

She laid her face down on the documents and let the tears flow.

****

From the comfort of his truck cab, Riley watched the building New World Watch had rented for the month. There was a group meeting that night, but they had to be careful; cars with government tags had been spotted nearby. He couldn’t shake the feeling that, with all the racial tension happening lately, his group was on some agency’s watch list. The thought gave him pause. It was more bullshit to worry about.

There wasn’t much time before he had to return to his job on the oil rig. He couldn’t leave NWW up in the air, and lately Isaac, Bobby Jack’s daddy, was becoming vocal about collaboration between the Aryans and the Klan. He wanted to join forces to organize a rally regarding the Confederate flag and the attack on white Americans. To forgo the flag was to lose a piece of their heritage.

Other groups were signing on with the old man with the hope of displaying a united front. Riley snorted. There was so much infighting between the factions, yet the flag gave them common ground. He dropped his head back on the rest. He couldn’t let Isaac continue his operations unchecked. None of the groups could really afford to draw any attention from the Feds.

After the Klan, his group was the second largest in membership. He stroked his beard; he had loyal men and women under him, but Bobby Jack was a liability and the blanket protection he provided his cousin would come back to bite him in the ass.

Damn it, why couldn’t Whit have been a white woman?
He picked up the knife in his cup holder and flicked it open, and then closed it. The clicks created by working the blade helped him think.

It was too soon to call Uncle Isaac out. The man worked on the fringes; he wasn’t exactly liked in the Klan, but the son of a bitch produced results. He had high recruitment numbers, and the funds he raised which bought weapons and allowed for the training of their foot soldiers was always needed. Folks tended to turn a blind eye to how the money was made as long as it kept coming. Meth sales kept the shit rolling in hand over fist. Seemed no one cared that the very thing that was lining the group’s coffers was also the very thing killing young white men and women, more so than the niggers, spics, and camel-humpers they were taught to despise. Somewhere in the midst of trying to hold on to their culture and way of life, they were changing into the very thing they hated.

Men and women wearing traditional skinhead gear of brown or black T-shirts, dark jeans rolled up at the hem, and steel toe work boots strolled past his vehicle toward the meeting hall. New World Watch slogans were sprawled across the clothing and thick chains hung from some members’ belts. A few carried the Confederate flag draped across their shoulders.

Riley glanced down his body at his brown button-down shirt and coffee-colored slacks. For the meeting, he’d donned attire similar to Nazi uniforms worn by the paramilitary ranks during Hitler’s reign. At thirty-three, he was one of the few older Aryans not locked up. Leading the group was a young man’s game. He closed the knife.

Bubba and Setter, the men who’d helped him reorganize NWW, ambled down the sidewalk. He couldn’t trust everyone, but he trusted those two with his life.

A sudden bang on his window made the glass quake. He slowly twisted his head to see who the hell would disturb him. He opened the door and peered out at one of the newer recruits. Justin had joined them six months ago.

“What?” The kid couldn’t have been more than twenty and was enthusiastic, prepared to jump into a fight, and damn the consequences. Riley stared at the teen. Once upon a time he’d been the exact same way.

“We can’t start the meeting without you, sir.” Justin pressed his lips together, the corners turned down.

“You getting ahead of yourself, boy. I just saw Bubba walk into the hall.” Riley snorted. “You’re bothering me for a reason, say what’s really on your mind.”

“I was at a Klan cross burning, and there was some talk questioning your leadership of the NWW. Isaac is making serious allegations about his son, Bobby Jack, who I believe is your cousin. He’s a race traitor.” Justin tugged the door wider. “A while back you claimed he was under your protection. It got me to thinking. Why would you help a coon lover? Unless you got a soft spot for porch monkeys, too?”

Was this young son of a bitch questioning his authority in front of his foot soldiers?

Riley leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. Yeah, this asshole called him out. It was a bold move, but dumb as hell. He sighed.

“You think my kin taints me?” Riley opened his eyes and lifted his head to gaze at Justin. “Son, are you sure you want to do this here and now?”

Justin kept twitching like he couldn’t be still. “Nigger-loving is like a disease. I just want to make sure you ain’t contracted it.” He lifted his chin and raised his voice. “White pride is important. We are the first line of defense against a calculated attack on our culture. I mean, I understand wanting a taste of the forbidden fruit. Even I wouldn’t mind sampling some dark meat. But once you lower yourself to that level, you’re no better than the zoo keeper for an animal exhibition.” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “What happened to the black bitch that sashayed into the bar, Riley?”

“If I chose to fuck a blackie, what exactly would you do to me?” He was curious just how far Justin would go. The fella had to be tweaking. Justine didn’t reek of alcohol, so it had to be drugs giving him a false sense of courage. A crowd of their peers had formed a loose circle around them. Setter shoved through the crowd and stood behind Justin, with his legs braced apart and his arm crossed over his chest.

He glanced at his old friend. It was time to make an example of a young man he’d considered mentoring. He stepped down from the truck.

Justin stepped back and bumped into Setter. He scrambled to the side. Sweat beaded the teen’s forehead. “You’re not fit to lead. I challenge your right to lead the New World Watch!”

For the first time in weeks, Riley laughed, a boisterous, gut-busting guffaw. The release felt so fucking good. He tightened his grip on the knife and with a flick of his thumb, the blade flipped free of his housing.

Confusion marred Justin’s features, lines furrowed his forehead. “What’s so funny?”

“You got balls, I give you that.” Riley rushed forward and buried the knife in his gut. Blood seeped into his palm, making the handle slippery.

Justin’s eyes widened as he crumpled, falling forward on Riley. “How?”

Setter stepped up next to him, sliding an arm around the young man’s waist. A few folks friendly with Justin hesitated while the crowd dispersed, heading toward the meeting space. Riley cocked a brow and stared at those bold enough to stick around. They quickly dropped their heads and shuffled toward the building, too.