Sons of Mayhem 3: War and Vengeance (3 page)

The Doctor

The Doctor squeezed the clutch and shifted down to first gear. His indicator light was flashing as he turned into the supermarket
’s parking lot. He headed over to the back corner, his bike’s thudding engine setting off a car alarm as he drove by.

The man was waiting for him. Sitting in an inconspicuous  beat-up old Chevy pickup the Mexican gang leader, Gabriel
“Angel” Marquez sat patiently.

The Doctor pulled up alongside the truck and dismounted as Angel emerged. Lean and fit, he looked at least a decade younger than his forty five years.
I look younger though.
They gave each other cool looks of acknowledgment.

“We’re even?” asked Angel.

The Doctor nodded. “Even.”
Go fuck a piñata we’re even.

“Your men okay with that?”

“Of course they’re not okay with that. But they know we’ve been played - we both have.”

Angel spat onto the ground in disgust.
“Any ideas man?”

The Doctor sighed.
“I’m looking into it. I might have a lead from the meth junkies who attacked Jase.”

The gang leader raised his eyebrows.
“Want us to have a go with them? We’re pretty good at getting tongues loosened.”

The Doctor let out a soft laugh.
“Me too. It’s a bit late for that now anyway.”
Better get rid of the bodies soon.
The Doctor unconsciously ran his hands over the slight bulge in the pocket of his jeans where his digital voice recorder was located. He had everything he needed from the dead drug addicts right there.

The Mexican caught the Doctor
’s knowing look and nodded. “This ain’t right. We never had no beef with you before. Now we got bodies piling up and my boys aren’t exactly happy either.”

“We’ll get to the bottom of this. Then your boys and my boys can sort it the fuck out.”

Sunlight glinted off of the gold grill in Angel’s mouth as he let out a big grin. “That’d be good hombre.”

The Doctor offered a hand.
“We cool?”

Angel grabbed it tightly with his own tattooed hand.
Prison tats. Look like shit.

“We ain’t cool. But we’re okay for now. Keep your men reigned in.”

The Doctor nodded. “Will do. And the other thing?”

Angel raised an eyebrow,
“You sure you want it how you said?”

The Doctor nodded.

“Tonight.”

He nodded again.
“Peace”

Dumbass
.

As the Doctor rode away he laughed to himself. Everything was working out beautifully.

Jase

He sat under the appraising gaze of his President.
Did we fuck up?

Bigfella
’s voice sounded tired as he spoke, “He seems like a decent guy. Old style. Like when I started out.”

Jase nodded.
“I think so too.”

Bigfella let out a sigh.
“While I’m in here, I don’t get a say, Jase.” The older man caught his eye and gripped his hand. “That’s how it is. I can’t be voting on shit, I can’t be managing shit, I can’t be President of shit while I’m in here. Get me out? I’ll get back on my goddamn throne. But for now, you’re going to have to pilot the club until I get back.”

“Me and Doc.”

Bigfella looked confused for a moment as if he’d forgotten about the Doctor. “Right. Yeah. Isn’t he busy at the hospital?”

“Nope took a leave of absence or an extended vacation or some shit.”

Bigfella raised an eyebrow. “They can do that?”

Jase laughed.
“He did it.”

Bigfella grinned.
“Well. Truth be told, I worried that one day he’d have to make a choice. And he wouldn’t choose us.”

“He swore an oath. He’s upholding it.”

Bigfella nodded and grinned, looking pleased “I guess he is.”

Jase spoke his next words carefully. Someone might be listening.
“So, we should reply to that message we received?”

Bigfella
’s look was cool.
That wasn’t subtle enough, was it?
“When I get junk mail I throw it in the goddamn trash. I trust you, Jase. That’s all that matters. You have to act without me now.”

Jase nodded. He couldn
’t have expected anything more direct, not in the visitors room of the county jail.
Throw it in the goddamn trash.

“So you’ve got a broad now?”

Broad. That’s an old fashioned word.
“I guess. Maybe. She’s young though. A college student.”

Bigfella clapped Jase on the shoulder with a big meaty hand.
“Young is good. But a college girl?”

“Yeah.”

The older man frowned. “College people and our people don’t mix too good, son.”

“I know. But she seems different.”

“You sure that isn’t your dick speaking?”

Jase laughed.
“You shoulda’ seen her yesterday. Standing over those meth heads? I thought she was going to stomp them.”

A big guffaw filled the room.
“You think she can deal with our lifestyle?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know. I just met her.”

Bigfella grinned. “Well I’m glad you’re getting your dick wet again. People were beginning to talk.”

“People are fuckin’ idiots.”

“Yep.”

It was good to chat with Bigfella. When the bell went, signaling that visiting time was over, it barely seemed like five minutes had passed, let alone twenty five.

Riding back from the jail Jase turned things over in his mind. If all went well they
’d have their Mexican problem solved and Bigfella home within a week. His spirits were somewhat buoyed, until unbidden the image of his dead friend’s face and accusatory eyes flashed across his mind as if he was seeing it again for the first time. Even if it all goes to plan, n
othing can bring back Brodie.

Overheard a a vulture circled lazily high in the sky, seeming to trail Jase
’s motorcycle as he rode.

Carlos Flores lay back on his prison bed and stared at the shiv. Above him his cellmate Raul snored. He was sleeping. He was
always
sleeping. But not Carlos, especially not lately.

He hadn
’t meant to get arrested, or get sent to prison, or join a gang. Even the order those things had happened didn’t make sense - usually you join a gang,
then
get sent to prison. But not Carlos. He’d got caught with some marijuana and had the book thrown at him by a racist judge. Now he was serving a six month sentence in the county jail.

And he was a member of a gang. Well, almost. He looked at the prison-made knife in his hand, twirling it around, running his thumb over the edge of the blade, wondering how it had all come to this.

He had a pregnant girlfriend on the outside, and he’d been supporting them both with his job in a supermarket. There had even been talk of him being management material. The idea had excited him, perhaps he could work his way up, and one day become the manager of the produce department, or frozen goods. But that had fallen apart.

With Carlos inside his girlfriend was now facing eviction.  And then the gang had come to him. How could he say no? He
’d earn some money and be under their protection. And if that wasn’t enough? Well, if he turned them down they’d hinted that he’d be raped. Raped and maimed. Juanita too.
My cousin loves pregnant bitches hombre, he’ll turn her up real good
. He shuddered at the memory of the whispered threats.

So, it was an easy choice. And now there he was, twirling the shiv around, waiting for the corrupt guard to come and lead him to the showers. After everyone else. After everyone else except his victim, that is. After he did the deed he
’d slip away, in with all the other inmates. He’d never be investigated or prosecuted. It would be a perpetrator-less crime. Maybe even written up as a suicide. And his rent would be paid, and he’d have protection. An easy choice to make.

The guards came and took the prisoners away in groups  to the showers. Unlike the old days, you no longer had to shower in a giant room with twenty other people. The prison had been partially refurbished and now showers were taken in rooms with just four to eight shower heads, each one separated by a chest-height divider giving a semblance of privacy.

When they came for Carlos everyone else was done. He walked down the hallway clad in the rough pants issued by the prison and cheap plastic flip-flops. His tattoo-free chest was bare and his nipples were hard like rocks. It was cold. It was always cold in there.

“Hurry up,” said the guard, his sour breath causing an involuntary shudder to run down Carlos’ spine. He could see the excitement in the guard’s eyes. He knew what was going to happen.

Carlos held the shiv tightly in his hands, hidden under his towel, as he entered the shower room. The guard waited by the doorway, his eyes shining and breath quick.

There was only one other occupant. Just like they
’d said. He was at the far end in the fourth stall, standing under the shower head letting the water sluice down over his long silver hair.

The man glanced at him. Carlos gulped, beginning to lose his nerve. He turned away to face the bench which ran across the room behind the shower stalls. At the far end was the other occupant
’s prison issue pants, balled up on the bench.

Carlos carefully slid his own pants off, shivering as he did so. He clutched the shiv tightly in his hands and went and stood under a shower head, pressing a button to make the water flow.

Just a minute, he thought. Just one minute of hot water, then he’d do it. He’d take the shiv and thrust it into the neck of the biker at the end. If he’d just walked over there right away he would have been noticed. But now the biker could see he was just having a normal shower, like him. He wasn’t paying attention to Carlos.

He decided he
’d wait for the water to stop. Then he’d press the shower button again, and he’d do it. He’d sneak up behind the big man and stab him in the neck. Then he’d run the shiv under the water, drop it next to the fallen big man, and be out before the biker had even stopped gurgling. Then the guard would take him back to his cell and Juanita would be safe.

Adrenaline surged through him. The water stopped. He slowly pushed the button back in. The water started again. He glanced to the left. The biker stared down oblivious, his hair hiding his face.

Carlos took a quiet step backward. Slick and wet and naked he held the shiv tight as he sneaked up behind Bigfella to end his existence in this world.
I’d do anything for you, Juanita.

Nicole

I sat on the bed with Lucy, a bottle of wine propped up between our thighs and a glass in each hand.

“You must think I’m crazy, huh? I only knew him a week.”

I stroked her cheek gently as she sniffled, most of her crying done. “You’re not crazy hon, most people would be even more of a wreck than you.”

She took a sip from her glass.
“I’ve been thinking. Maybe I should, y’know, tone it down a bit.”

Yeah you probably should.
“What do you mean?”

She took another sip.
“I mean, I’ve been acting pretty wild, right? Maybe I should,” she paused, as if she was slowly thinking through her thoughts as she spoke, “keep to the college? The club… maybe that’s too much for us.”

Uh oh.
“Jase said it’s not usually like that. We got there at a bad time.”

“But we’re college girls, Nicole. We should be dating jocks and geeks and studying and stuff.”

Don’t you dare. I only just met Jase.
“But we also have to live a little,” I grimaced as I remembered Sunday morning, “and experience the real world.”

Lucy gave a little laugh.
“I guess he really got to you, huh?”

It
’s that obvious?
“Maybe a little bit. He’s a nice guy. And anyway, I think he needs someone. He’d known Brodie forever.”

“I only knew him a week and I’m a mess. I can’t imagine what Jase is going through.”

And where is he? He could have called at least. “
Why don’t you just take it easy for a bit. See how you feel. And we should go to the wake, at least.”

Lucy sighed.
“I guess.” She pulled the bottle out from between our pajama-clad legs and refilled both our glasses. The wine gave a cheerful glugging sound as it filled the glasses,  oblivious to our muted mood.

“Cheers,” she said a little too loudly, clinking our glasses together.

“Cheers.”

I don
’t know whether it was the sound of our clinking and our toast, or just bad timing, but like a broken old mechanical alarm that interrupts you at any time of the day or night a familiar knocking started hammering at the door.

“Yoo-hoo! It’s me-ee o-pen uh-up!”

I let out an exasperated sigh. “You know she just wants to steal our wine.”

Lucy giggled. The idea of Belinda actually drinking wine was ridiculous. But I
’d bet anything that somehow she’d heard our glasses and knew what we were up to.

Lucy wiped her eyes.
“I’m not in the mood for her shit today.”

Before I could answer Belinda or get up, Lucy was already in action. She jumped off the bed and placed her glass and the bottle behind the door, so they couldn
’t be seen unless Belinda actually entered the room and then turned around. Which wouldn’t have surprised me.

My eyes went wide and I breathed in sharply at what Lucy did next. I raised my free hand to cover my mouth as I watched her.
So much for not being a wild girl.

In record time Lucy pulled off her pajamas and tossed them next to the wine. I placed my glass to my side so it was hidden by my body and watched as my stark naked friend opened the door fully, and with one hand on her hip spoke as if nothing was out of the ordinary,
“Yes? We were just going to bed.” She raised her eyebrows as she said it.

For the first time ever I saw Belinda lost for words. Her face beet red, she stammered out something that might have been
“Nothing”, but could have been almost anything else.

Prude
.

Normally we
’d have to make small talk with her and drop ever increasing hints to get Belinda to leave. But not this time. For once, it was Belinda herself who reached for the door handle and pulled it closed.

We heard her run off down the hallway, her weird earrings jingling, before the rapid open and close of her own door. Lucy was bent over giggling.

“I guess Belinda can’t handle this, huh?” Lucy pushed her breasts up from beneath and pointed them in my direction. My own face was beginning to go a little red too.

I giggled.
“Get dressed.”

Lucy pulled her pajamas back on and came back to the bed. We clinked our glasses together again, but much softer this time.

We sat in a comfortable silence until we were interrupted by the buzzing of my phone. I looked at the screen and was surprised to see that it was registering an incoming call from “Jase”.

He must have put the number in the other day when I fell asleep.

By the time I’d hung up the phone I had a little glow of excitement in my stomach. I had been worried he wouldn’t call. But now he had, and he wanted to see me soon.