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“Just take a breath. We’ll take you back to the doctor tomorrow.” My mom pats my hand. “How about we get you in the shower?” She sounds like she’s talking to someone who can’t understand English. It’s slow and loud.
I close my eyes, sink back into my pillow, and try to let my heart calm. My pillow is drenched along with the T-shirt I was sleeping in.
“Come on, Dolores.” My eyes pop open. I try to speak but much like my dream, nothing comes out. I take her hand and let her lead me into the bathroom. It’s then that I look at myself in the mirror.
“Holy shit,” I whisper. My face is pale and the scratch marks are bleeding, blending in with the angry bruises he left.
“Here, I started the shower for you.” My mom still sounds like she’s talking to a toddler.
I rip off my shirt and step into the hot shower, my mind spinning. Never in my life do I remember my mom caring for me this way.
I took care of her and myself. Edge took care of me. “So real,” I say out loud.
“You okay?” my mom calls.
I almost tell her the truth. That I’m terrified that I might be having some real problems. That I’m 100 percent sure I need Edge. Instead, I wash and don’t linger. I put Neosporin on my neck, which looks like a lion got a hold of me. And I walk past my mom and go back to bed.
I need to get up early tomorrow. Edge needs me to testify.
Edge and Dolly: you can’t have one without the other.
“Should I be worried?” My mom stands in the doorway to my room. Her question is so absurd I have to bite my lip not to start laughing. And I do what I have done my whole life—I lie to her.
“I’m fine. Don’t worry about anything.”
She hesitates, the hallway light making her thin form seem smaller in my dad’s large T-shirt. Nodding, she says, “Of course you are. See you in the morning. Sleep as late as you need.”
“Mm-hm.” I toss my wet pillow from earlier to the other side of my bed, grab the other one, and close my eyes.EDGE
Eighteen years oldI spent my eighteenth birthday in jail. Not that I cared. Jail sucks, but I’ve learned a lot of shit in here. As an added bonus, the connections I’ve made are benefiting the club.
My days consist of running all the shit for the club in here. By running, I mean I have Jason’s drug coming into the jail and money going into the right hands outside.
“Hey brother, you ready to saturate yourself in pussy? Fuck, man, you’re getting out tomorrow. Less than twelve hours.” Marco, my cellmate, says all this as he continues with his sit-ups. “I’m so ready to get laid my dick is hard thinking of all the snatch you gonna be getting.”
I snort as I look around our cell. Marco is part of the Hispanic gang in the Eagle Rock area. His uncle is one of the main guys in the Mexican Mafia.
I got Chuckie involved with him and his organization. We have the supply and they have the money. It’s working out well as long as Chuckie can keep his dick in pants. Seems there was a run-in with Marco’s female cousin and Chuckie’s dick. It could have been bad, but Jason stepped in. I haven’t heard the details, but it’s all been overlooked.
Money is flowing on both sides so that helps.
He sits up resting his arms on his knees. “I should be out in six months, man. You think you’ll be patched in? I’d like to think about getting the Disciples blend in some of our underground clubs,” he says, wiping the sweat from his brow. It’s almost time for lights out. Marco always does his biggest workout right before bed, saying he has no one to impress with his smell and he sleeps better when he’s exhausted.
“Yeah, man let’s make it happen. I’m hoping to be patched in soon.” And by soon, I mean soon. I’ve done my duty and then some. The club has become a part of me that I can never turn away from.
I’m fucking great at what I do and now that Jason and Axel have been patched in and Chuckie has taken over as Prez, yeah, I think I should be a full Disciple as soon as I get out.
“God damn you piss me off, brother. No matter how many push-ups I do, I can’t get that fucking eight-pack.” He nods at my abs.
“Diet, brother.” I smirk. “You eat all that shit in here. I stick to protein and veggies.”
He’s not lying. I’ve transformed my lean build into a seriously hard, muscled body. I lift every day and shoot hoops when I want a break. I’ve never been more structured; I mean, what else is there to do?
