Sunday Morning (Damaged #7.5)

 

 

“We’ll have a second kid, but we won’t name her Tiara.”

 

“How about Heaven?”

 

Kirk kissed me softly and then stood up. “Not fucking happening. I’ll buy you a baby name book, and you can start looking for something to name our son.”

 

I rolled my eyes, but somehow Kirk saying we were having a boy made me really think we were. In fact, I stopped worrying about girl names immediately.

 

“We can’t have a kid here,” Kirk said from the kitchen.

 

I walked to where he dumped a can of ravioli into a pan.

 

“We can put the baby in the bedroom with us.”

 

“My boy needs space to run. He’ll need a dog too. No space in here for a boy and his dog.”

 

Smiling, I leaned into his body. “I wish I told you sooner. I’ve been nervous about things. Now all that scary stuff has disappeared.”

 

“I’m going to figure out what to do about our living situation. I have ideas.”

 

Kirk’s tone killed my smile. He was intimidating as hell when his brain snapped into overdrive. I didn’t know what his ideas entailed, but I figured they were bigger than finding a new apartment.

 

 

 

 

 

15 - Kirk

 

 

Jodi finished her junior year of high school while carrying my son. We still didn’t know the gender, but I felt in my bones that my woman was carrying a boy.

 

Each morning, I woke up and watched Jodi sleep. Her blonde hair usually covered her face, blocking the sunlight. She always slept on her back, with her hands resting next to her shoulders. Looking so vulnerable, Jodi needed more than Chesterfield offered.

 

The town wasn’t the worst I’d seen, but the schools were bad, the people were rude, and violence broke out randomly. For my woman and son, I expected more.

 

Ideas spun in my head for a while before I made my move. I wasn’t scared as much as wary. I knew the men in Memphis could help me. They might also shoot me where I stood. I never feared dying before, but I had people to take care of. Death was no longer an option.

 

Arlo James was a roly-poly shaped guy I met back in juvenile hall. He and his buddy Jeff Goldstein broke into an old lady’s house on a dare. They got caught and spent three months locked up. Both were soft, rich boys perfect for beatings. More than once, I stepped in to help them. Mostly, I liked pounding on people and helping them gave me a reason.

 

Even with a plush fucking life, Arlo grew up to be cold inside. He was quick to kill if he could make money and take territory. He remembered how I helped him out in juvenile hall and gave me a chance to help him again when he took power in Memphis.

 

After all of these years, we retained a sort of friendship. He used to call on us to do his dirty enforcement work. Though not as much anymore. There were other clubs with harder members, willing to do uglier things with better results. The Chesterfield Vandals made messes when Arlo wanted precision.

 

In late June, we met for lunch at a barbecue joint in Memphis. He brought several big guys along, but they sat near the door and gave us privacy.

 

“I have a kid on the way,” I said after a few minutes of chit chat. “My woman still has a way to go, but I’m thinking about the future.”

 

“Children are a blessing.”

 

I thought about how Arlo remained childless and realized he and I weren’t so different. We thought our world was too ugly for families. Jodi changed my way of thinking.

 

“There’s a college town in Kentucky run by a small group of moonshiners. They run drugs too, but they started out as moonshiners, and they don’t have the brains to do much more. They’re small and disorganized but violent,” I said and then got to my point. “With your help, I want to build a new club, take over that town, and give my family a quiet place to live.”

 

“What’s in it for me?”

 

“The college town has untapped potential. Taking it would give you a pathway to expand your territory outside of Tennessee.”

 

Arlo tapped his fork against his plate. “Tell me about the club you’re building.”

 

“I’d take a few guys from the Vandals. They’re older and less impressed by our leadership. I know other guys around Chesterfield and in Tennessee. They’re not in clubs, but they’re loyal. Smart guys with experience.”

 

“Think your current club will give you trouble?”

 

“I don’t think they’re smart enough to know to give me trouble. They think of the club as a social thing. The business side doesn’t interest them. It’s like the fucking Boy Scouts with pussy, drugs, and booze.”

 

Seriously considering the plan, Arlo scratched his balding head and frowned. “Will the moonshiners be easy to remove?”

 

“No, it’ll be bloody, but they have no reason to see me coming. They’re like a lot of crews in Kentucky. Disorganized, only thinking about this job or that mark. With the right kind of leadership, Kentucky could belong to you.”