Nodding, I say, “We’ve come this far.”
We held our own . . . in the beginning, but being outnumbered and with a gun to our heads, we both fell fast. I protected my ribs and head the best I could. The large beef-heads converged and just enough damage was done to send a message. It’s times like these that I wonder if they know who I really am. They must. If I weren’t under the Kingwood name, I have no doubt we’d be dead. My ears are still ringing from a blow to my right side. I spit pooling blood from my mouth, and squat down, my side hurting. “Fuck, Cruise. What are we doing?”
“We’re getting close.”
“How do you know?”
“Because if we weren’t, they wouldn’t have been hiding behind their fists.” His head rolls to the side and he spits. “It will only get worse the closer we get to the answers.”
Pushing myself to my feet, I walk over to him. “They’re trying to keep us from finding out more than we have.”
“Yup. Ow.” He grabs his side.
When I reach him, he’s lying on his back and looks like he’s in a lot of pain. He takes the offered hand, and I pull him to his feet. Our hands flip into our regular greeting, our fingers anchored together. “Thanks, brother.”
“Got your back, man.”
“Yeah. Got yours, too.”
“Yeah, let’s not get mushy over this shit. My jaw fucking hurts.” He wiggles it back and forth so I know it’s not broken. Thank fuck.
I help him lift his bike off the ground, and he does the same for me. They kicked in my exhaust, denting it. Fuckers. They’ll pay for that, and I don’t mean monetarily. Picking my wallet out of a puddle, I see they took five hundred dollars and my credit cards. I don’t worry about that shit. Those cards have trackers, and they can’t use them without a fingerprint to activate them. Kingwoods aren’t going to let their black cards be used by just anyone.
After picking up the pieces of my phone, I toss the remains in a dumpster. “Fuckers will pay for this.”
“Shit, they scratched the paint. Stupid fucks.” He swings his leg over and starts his bike. “Looks like the ties between them go back to before April, but we need her to get the details. You think she’ll show?”
Settling onto the leather seat of my bike, I smile though it hurts. “I’m sure ’cause you’ll make sure of it.”
He moves forward until he’s even with me. “I had a feeling you’d say that.”
“We can’t back down now.”
“One way or the other. But no matter what, we’ll be prepared next time.”
Reaching out, we fist bump. “Let’s get out of here.”
We take it slow to analyze the damage done to our bikes. I think they got it worse than we did. Fuck the blood. I’ll heal, but damn, my bike. That pisses me off.
I just hope my face isn’t too bad or Sara Jane will freak out and my dad will kick my ass tomorrow night. We clean up and buy a Gatorade at a gas station. Fighting always wears me down, which is why I never did it unless necessary.
Tonight it was necessary.
We hit an all-night diner, needing fuel. “I’m starving,” I say when we slide into a booth across from each other.
Cruise laughs. “Damn this light is not flattering. I don’t think I’ve ever seen your pretty boy face look so fucked up before.”
“That’s because I usually win.”
The waitress pours coffee for each of us without saying a word. She takes our orders, and when she finally looks us over, she asks if we need ice.
“Is it bad?” I ask.
“Nah, but I’ll bring it anyway so you don’t swell.”
We eat our eggs and bacon, pancakes, and potato wedges with one hand, holding icepacks to our cheeks with the other. When she brings the ticket, she asks, “What do the other guys look like?”
Cruise works his charm and lies, “Worse than us.”
“Good for you.”
*
Midnight.
When I open the door to her apartment, Sara Jane is asleep on her couch. Some old sitcom is on the TV and her kitchen light is on. Taking the remote, I flick the TV off and hit the light switch off, too. I kneel down in front of the couch and watch her. She’s troubled, a little wrinkle in her forehead giving her worried mind away. Her body is restless, and I count her breaths. Every third breath is punctuated with a sigh.
Her eyes slowly open, but she’s not scared. She actually looks more at peace looking into my eyes. “When did you get here?”
“Only a minute ago,” I reply as I stroke her head gently.
Reaching out, she touches the corner of my mouth. I thought I’d cleaned up the blood, but her peace turns to turmoil, and she lifts her head. “What happened? Why are you bleeding?”
“It’s no big deal. We should go to bed.” I start to stand, but she grabs hold of the sleeve of my jacket.
“Alexander, what happened?”
“It was handled, baby. Don’t worry.” I twist my arm so my palm is open to her.
Her gaze goes from my hand to my face, and then she accepts the offer. When she’s standing, all five feet four inches, bare feet, and tiny pajamas, she wraps her arms around my middle. “I always worry about you.”
“It’s a bad habit you need to break.”
When she looks up, her lips are twisted to the side. “You’ve got a few of your own.”
“Truer words were never spoken. Come on.”
In the bedroom, I strip off my clothes after leaving her in the bathroom, happy to be going to bed. “I’m exhausted.”
She comes back into the bedroom with a towel, a washrag, and a cup of water. “Lie down.”
“Are we playing nurse and patient?”
Her laugh is music, the melody one I know by heart. “You wish.”
“I do, on every star.”
Sitting next to me, she asks, “You waste your wishes on role play?”
“No. I spend all my wishes on you.”
“I hope they all come true.”
Kissing her on the cheek, I whisper, “They already have.”
“You’re very charming when you want to be.”
“I always wanna be with you.” I lie back as instructed. She dips the washrag in the cup. When she touches it to my face, she’s careful, but I still protest, “I’m not hurt.”
“You’re bleeding. That means you’re hurt.” I wince and get a hard glare. “What happened?”
“Some guys needed to flex their muscle to prove a point.”
“On your face?”
When I laugh, I wince again. “Fine. Maybe they did a little more damage than I first thought.”
Her gaze dips down my body. “Is that bruising on your ribs?”
“It doesn’t hurt that much. Surface bruising.”
“Did you get what you were after?”
“Guess we’ll find out tomorrow.”
She wipes across my forehead, keeping her eyes on the job at hand. “What’s tomorrow?”
“A party at Kingwood Enterprises. I want you to be there. Will you come?”
Her hand stops, the rag still pressed to the side of my eye. “I’m not sure I can make it.”
Taking hold of her hips, I wait until she finally makes eye contact to say, “I need you there, Firefly.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“Okay. I want you there.”
She sighs. “I have my group project.”