“Fuck, Merrick, how the hell do you read my fucking mind like that?”
“Blade, we’ve known each other since we were fucking kids. Twenty years of friendship will do that shit to you. You’re an unpredictable bastard to most people, but, to me, you’re like the back of my fucking hand.”
I glared at him. “So tell me, how the fuck do I get my shit back under control?”
He smiled. “You let it all go.”
“What?”
“Go to her, and let yourself go. Give yourself to her. If she’s half the woman I suspect she is, she’ll take that shit and put you back together.”
The chaos of my mind eased as I considered what he’d said.
Maybe he was right.
Maybe the way forward was to revisit the past and deal with that shit once and for all.
***
I didn’t go to Layla.
I drove around for hours before finally going home.
And I slept.
For hours.
I woke to my phone ringing in the darkness.
Two am.
Layla.
I answered it but struggled to form words so remained silent.
“Donovan?” Her voice was soft, hesitant. I hated that I’d caused that.
Asshole.
“I’m here, baby.”
“I’m at your front door. Can you let me in?”
Shit.
My thoughts shifted to how she knew my address, but I knew without even thinking about it that Merrick was involved in this somehow. I headed to the front door, and pulled it open to find her waiting patiently for me.
“Why are you on my doorstep at this time of the morning?” I asked as I let her in.
“Your friend rang me.”
“Merrick?”
“Yes.” She grasped my face with both hands. “He’s concerned about you. Told me you need me and gave me your address.”
“Fuck.”
She squeezed my face. “He told me you had stuff to tell me, and that I wasn’t to leave until you’d told me everything.”
“Jesus,” I muttered.
“He told me I had to make you tell me about Leroy, Ashley and the women.”
Her voice dropped to a whisper as she mentioned the women. She thought it was something it wasn’t.
Shit.
That motherfucker.
I pulled away from her hold, and stalked down my hallway, into the kitchen. I pulled the bottle of scotch from the cupboard and two glasses. Filling them, I slid one across the counter to her. Lifting my glass to my lips, I said, “Drink up, baby. None of this shit is pretty. You’re gonna need that.”
I slammed the drink down and poured another one, downing that one as well.
I took a deep breath, looked her in the eyes, and started at the beginning.
This would either be the end of us or the beginning of something I knew deep in my heart I wanted.
“I began selling drugs when I was twelve. My mother worked two jobs and yet we still never had everything we needed. My father didn’t give two shits if our cupboards were empty. Leroy roped me into his gang and taught me how to make money. He also taught me how to channel the anger that was burning holes in my soul. Up until that point, I directed my anger at myself. I fucking hated myself. My father resented my existence, and so did I. Leroy taught me how to fight and used me to take care of his shit. It was bad shit and as much as I hate some of what I did, it forced the anger out of me. Forced me to stop bottling it all up.” I took another breath and watched her reaction.
She poured us another drink, and as she gave it to me, said, “Keep going, baby.”
Fuck.
The softness in her voice fucking slayed me.
Perhaps Merrick was right.
Perhaps she would cope with this shit and accept me.
“I was seventeen the first time I killed someone. That’s how I got my name, Blade. I killed him with a knife. I did it for Leroy. He had us all under his control to the point where we did whatever he said. Even my mother couldn’t break the control he had over me. God knows she tried. Leroy ran drugs and women, but I was pretty much only tied up with the drugs side of his organisation. I only learnt more about the prostitution when I met Ashley. I was twenty-five by then, and she opened my eyes to the evil in Leroy that I’d been unable to see before. He was forcing women into his brothels by getting them hooked on his fucking drugs, and when they owed him so much money they’d have no way of paying it back, he’d force them to work for him. Ashley was different; she didn’t owe him money, her brother did. Leroy tried to force her to pay off her brother’s debt when she attempted to negotiate the payment of the debt with him. Our paths crossed the day she went to see him and she told me everything. I didn’t want to believe her, but hearing her story made me go to the brothels, and I talked with the women there. After some persuasion, they confirmed everything.”
I stopped talking. My heart pumped furiously in my chest as the memories assaulted me, and I took a couple of deep breaths, trying to get my breathing under control. Layla placed her hand on my back and began rubbing it. My eyes found hers and I saw only kindness and concern there.
“Do you want more?” she asked, jerking her chin at the scotch.
I shook my head. “No.”
“Blade, we’ve known each other since we were fucking kids. Twenty years of friendship will do that shit to you. You’re an unpredictable bastard to most people, but, to me, you’re like the back of my fucking hand.”
I glared at him. “So tell me, how the fuck do I get my shit back under control?”
He smiled. “You let it all go.”
“What?”
“Go to her, and let yourself go. Give yourself to her. If she’s half the woman I suspect she is, she’ll take that shit and put you back together.”
The chaos of my mind eased as I considered what he’d said.
Maybe he was right.
Maybe the way forward was to revisit the past and deal with that shit once and for all.
***
I didn’t go to Layla.
I drove around for hours before finally going home.
And I slept.
For hours.
I woke to my phone ringing in the darkness.
Two am.
Layla.
I answered it but struggled to form words so remained silent.
“Donovan?” Her voice was soft, hesitant. I hated that I’d caused that.
Asshole.
“I’m here, baby.”
“I’m at your front door. Can you let me in?”
Shit.
My thoughts shifted to how she knew my address, but I knew without even thinking about it that Merrick was involved in this somehow. I headed to the front door, and pulled it open to find her waiting patiently for me.
“Why are you on my doorstep at this time of the morning?” I asked as I let her in.
“Your friend rang me.”
“Merrick?”
“Yes.” She grasped my face with both hands. “He’s concerned about you. Told me you need me and gave me your address.”
“Fuck.”
She squeezed my face. “He told me you had stuff to tell me, and that I wasn’t to leave until you’d told me everything.”
“Jesus,” I muttered.
“He told me I had to make you tell me about Leroy, Ashley and the women.”
Her voice dropped to a whisper as she mentioned the women. She thought it was something it wasn’t.
Shit.
That motherfucker.
I pulled away from her hold, and stalked down my hallway, into the kitchen. I pulled the bottle of scotch from the cupboard and two glasses. Filling them, I slid one across the counter to her. Lifting my glass to my lips, I said, “Drink up, baby. None of this shit is pretty. You’re gonna need that.”
I slammed the drink down and poured another one, downing that one as well.
I took a deep breath, looked her in the eyes, and started at the beginning.
This would either be the end of us or the beginning of something I knew deep in my heart I wanted.
“I began selling drugs when I was twelve. My mother worked two jobs and yet we still never had everything we needed. My father didn’t give two shits if our cupboards were empty. Leroy roped me into his gang and taught me how to make money. He also taught me how to channel the anger that was burning holes in my soul. Up until that point, I directed my anger at myself. I fucking hated myself. My father resented my existence, and so did I. Leroy taught me how to fight and used me to take care of his shit. It was bad shit and as much as I hate some of what I did, it forced the anger out of me. Forced me to stop bottling it all up.” I took another breath and watched her reaction.
She poured us another drink, and as she gave it to me, said, “Keep going, baby.”
Fuck.
The softness in her voice fucking slayed me.
Perhaps Merrick was right.
Perhaps she would cope with this shit and accept me.
“I was seventeen the first time I killed someone. That’s how I got my name, Blade. I killed him with a knife. I did it for Leroy. He had us all under his control to the point where we did whatever he said. Even my mother couldn’t break the control he had over me. God knows she tried. Leroy ran drugs and women, but I was pretty much only tied up with the drugs side of his organisation. I only learnt more about the prostitution when I met Ashley. I was twenty-five by then, and she opened my eyes to the evil in Leroy that I’d been unable to see before. He was forcing women into his brothels by getting them hooked on his fucking drugs, and when they owed him so much money they’d have no way of paying it back, he’d force them to work for him. Ashley was different; she didn’t owe him money, her brother did. Leroy tried to force her to pay off her brother’s debt when she attempted to negotiate the payment of the debt with him. Our paths crossed the day she went to see him and she told me everything. I didn’t want to believe her, but hearing her story made me go to the brothels, and I talked with the women there. After some persuasion, they confirmed everything.”
I stopped talking. My heart pumped furiously in my chest as the memories assaulted me, and I took a couple of deep breaths, trying to get my breathing under control. Layla placed her hand on my back and began rubbing it. My eyes found hers and I saw only kindness and concern there.
“Do you want more?” she asked, jerking her chin at the scotch.
I shook my head. “No.”
