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I put my glass down on the counter and slowly walked down the steps. I expected a typical Philly basement with a concrete floor, cinderblock walls, and rat shit all over. Instead, the basement was partially finished, with decent carpet and drywall over the cinderblocks. The lights were bright, and there were movie posters framed and hung all over.
I found Steven sitting at the end of a bench press table. His shirt was draped over the back of a chair and he wore black gym shorts. He was sweating slightly, his skin dewy with it, and his hair was slicked back. I stared at his muscles, surprised at the intense yearning inside of me. Tattoos covered his chest and arms, and he looked up at me with a little smile on his lips.
“So this is how you stay so fit,” I said.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said.
I shrugged and looked around. There was more gym equipment, a treadmill, some free weights, and a TV in the corner that was tuned to a golf tournament on mute. There was a card table to the right with some chairs around it, and a little minifridge right next to that.
“I want to talk,” I said.
“Go ahead.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Or are you too distracted?”
I glared at him but walked over to the card table, pulled out a chair, and sat. I crossed my legs and watched him for a long moment as he looked at me, sweat dripping down onto the carpet.
“I want to help you,” I said.
He raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Help me?”
“I’ll tell you everything I know about the club,” I said. “I’ll give you the locations of all their safehouses, all the people I know, all their soldiers and meeting places. I’ll give you everything.”
“Okay,” he said, leaning back onto his hands. I let my eyes roam his body again but forced myself to meet his gaze. “I’d like that.”
“But I want something first.”
“I’m sure you do.” He laughed and ran a hand through his hair before shifting his weight. The heavy bar with its round, thick black weights jostled as he settled himself again.
“Promise me that you’ll get my dad back,” I said. “Swear that you’ll do whatever you can for him.”
“You don’t have to help me to get that,” he said.
I clenched my jaw and took a deep breath to steady myself.
I was angry. I knew I was angry, and I knew I was making an emotional decision. But this was the right call.
The Club had taken everything from me, over and over again. They took and took, and didn’t care how many people they hurt in the process.
I wasn’t going to let them get away with it anymore.
“I’ll help you,” I said. “I want to help you.”
“If this is about revenge for your father, you don’t have to,” he said. “But if this is revenge for yourself…” He trailed off, staring at me, eyes hard.
I nodded once. “This is for me, then,” I said. “This is because I hate my uncle and I hate that fucking Club.” I stood up, anger ripping through me. “This is because I want to kill the fucking bastards for what they’ve done to me and my family.”
He nodded and a smile spread across his face.
“Okay then, princess,” he said. “Your wish is my command. I’ll take your help, and give you whatever you want.”
“Just save my father,” I said. “That’s all I want from you.” I walked to the stairs and wanted to smash my fist through the wall, but I knew I had to get myself under control. “And don’t think this is because I like you.”
“Oh, I know you don’t,” he said.
I didn’t look back at him. I didn’t think I could handle looking at his muscular, sweating body without giving myself away.
“This is just for me,” I said again, then stormed back up the stairs.
I went to my room, shut the door, and turned on the shower.
As I waited for the water to get hot, I thought about all the things I’d learned about the Club over the years, and how best I could hurt them.11StevenColleen stared out the tinted window at the rain-slicked Philly streets and said nothing as the car crawled into the Point Breeze neighborhood.
Bringing her here was a risk, but it was a risk I had to take. She stared as I crawled along the block, her eyes staring at the brick fronted buildings, her hands folded in her lap, her fingers making nervous claws against her palms.
“What do you see?” I asked.
“Not much,” she said. “Run down homes. Garbage on the curb.”
I smiled. “No, I mean—”
“I know what you meant,” she said. “I’m thinking, okay?”
I let out a little breath but let her think. I kept driving, circling around the block before moving on to the next one. She stared, didn’t move, didn’t blink, and the only way I knew she was alive and thinking was the breaths pulling into her chest. She wore a black tank top and dark blue jeans. Her hair was up in a bun, and she had a gray plain hat pulled down low over her face. I thought she was trying to hide, but I didn’t bother asking about it.
