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“You want my Dolly?” Shark pulls a chair out flipping it around to straddle it. “You prove yourself, get patched in…” He pulls out his own pack of cigarettes. “And I’ll give you my blessing.”
“Okay.” The lawyer slaps his hands together. “This is a nonsmoking room, but that aside, all of this is something I don’t need to be involved in.” He puts his fancy phone into his suit pocket.
“What is my business is this,” he continues. “I got the call. The kid made it through surgery.” He looks at me. “I’ve got to be honest. If you want Edge to have a fighting chance at not going to jail for beating this kid almost to death, we need your daughter to testify.” He turns toward Shark.
“No.” He shakes his head.
Prez takes over. I sit up knowing in this moment, I might very well be going to jail.
“No police, nothing. We handle shit our way. Edge knows all this. We have our own laws.”
The lawyer looks at him for a second and then down at me. Sighing, he puts his hands on his hips. “You agree? You’re willing to go to jail for her? And for the club?”
“Yes.” I don’t have to say more as both Prez and Shark lean back and smoke. Their faces say it all.
I proved myself.
I’m a prospect.
And I’m not even eighteen, but if I had a million dollars to bet, I’d say I’m going to jail.
“I want to see Dolly.” They all look at each other and nod as they stand.
“We’ll be back in the morning for the hearing. Trust me, jail ain’t so bad. It’ll fine-tune you, Edge, and that is exactly what the club needs.”
I stand as they knock to get out. The cop frowns at the obvious smoke residue but says nothing. He cuffs me again, and I start the walk of shame to get booked, not even caring if they throw me in the drunk tank. All I want is to close my eyes so that I can see her in my dreams. Tomorrow will come soon enough.DOLLY
Seventeen years oldThe door slams shut and I bolt up. My back is still sore. But it’s getting better with the medicine my mom has been putting on it.
“Daddy?” I grab one of Edge’s old sweatshirts and run to see what has happened.
“I don’t want her near the courtroom. Don’t make me repeat myself, Misty.”
I slow down and stop altogether to eavesdrop, wincing as my scabbed-up back hits the wall.
“But Shark, he saved her. She wants to see him.” My mom sounds somewhat sober, which is surprising. After what happened, she’s been pretty much nonstop medicating herself.
“Christ, do you want Edge to go away for years? Use your head. If Dolly shows up, he’s going to get irrational, and we can’t have that. This kid is a fucking warrior. He needs to be strong, not pining away like a pussy.” The sink turns on and I move closer placing a hand over my mouth as I try not to let my raspy breathing announce me.
Are they honestly thinking I’ll stay away? No fucking way.
“But… I feel so bad. I mean—”
“Babe. He’s going to jail. The rapist’s father has money. He’ll have to do time. You can’t possibly think he won’t. He needs to have anger, strength. Trust me, jail sucks. He needs to survive, not get raped in the showers.”
The sink turns off. “That… you can pay the guards, right?” My mom sounds upset. God, even my dad who never shows anything but love and rage sounds concerned.
Well, screw this. I have no intention of letting Edge go to jail. He’s my soul. As I step into the kitchen, both my parents turn and look at me. My mom is drying dishes, and my dad is standing with arms crossed, a bottle of tequila open next to him on the counter.
“Hey sweetheart.” Her fake, upbeat tone doesn’t fool me.
“I’m going to testify.” I don’t have time to act like I don’t know what’s going on. “There is no way they can lock up Edge and have someone rape him because…” I look at my mom whose eyes are huge, then my dad who looks like I’m insane, but I carry on. “No one is going to get raped.” I take a breath. “Troy. He’s the one who should get raped because he’s a rapist.”
There I said the R word a lot. All this morning, I had to spend two hours with a counselor telling me that it’s not my fault and not to be afraid to communicate and blah, blah, blah.
“Perfect, she’s crazy.” My dad picks up the bottle. I wrinkle my nose in disgust—this is one that has the worm in the bottom.
“I’m not.”
He eyes me like it’s the first time we’ve met.
“Whatever. You can’t stop me.” I lift my head and try to stare him down.
