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Now, this is something I’d appreciate. “Like I said, you don’t need to worry about Santa. I’ve got him covered.”
“Thank you so much, Sunny. I really appreciate your initiative to take control of the situation. Keep up this type of attitude, and I see you—”
A scream rings out to my left, where the patient waiting room is, causing me to rise from my office chair and go out from around the charge station. Marjorie walks alongside me as we head toward the commotion. As we come into view of the waiting area, we see Calvin, our floor security guard, pushing back a former patient’s father. Sadly, Imogen passed away earlier today. Her father is running for a seat in the Senate this year and is a high political figure. Imogen had been on our floor for almost three-and-a-half months. She was about to turn fifteen, and sadly, her leukemia kept throwing us all for a loop. She’d make advances, have great days, and then every bit of progress we made came crashing to a halt.
“Dallas,” I call him by his first name, trying my best to calm him down. I was Imogen’s nurse most days, there for her in her last dying moments when her father was across town campaigning. She was a lovely girl, a bright light we desperately needed in this world.
“My ex-wife . . . she . . . she c-called and said I-Imogen was . . . tell me it isn’t true, Sunny. Tell me she’s not . . .” Oh my God. He doesn’t know.
“Calvin, let Dallas go.Please,” I beg our security guard, needing to show the man some bit of compassion. Calvin does as I ask and backs away from him. Dallas’ ex-wife was here when she passed because she was the type who never left Imogen’s bedside. Her name is Ophelia, and she knew what was coming. She’d accepted it . . . but I don’t think Dallas did. He threw himself into work when she started getting worse like he was trying to escape her impending death.
This isn’t my place nor my job to notify him. I mean, his ex-wife already did . . . but why did he come here then? I have no idea.
“Dallas, you know what happened. Ophelia told you,” I speak softly while confirming what his ex-wife said was true.
Gnawing on his bottom lip, he shakes his head over and over again, continuously denying it. “No. She can’t be. She . . . this can’t be real. This is . . . this is some sort of dream.” I wish it were a dream. I wish we lived in a world where kids didn’t have to die for no reason. His expression shifts from pain-filled to anger. He stares me straight in the eyes and growls out every word with exact precision, “I will make you pay for your hand in this. I will make all of you pay.”
Calvin grabs Dallas by the back of the hand and tries to pull him away from Marjorie and me, but the second his hand touches Dallas, he throws a punch into Calvin’s face. Blood spurts from his nose, and Calvin falls to the ground. I rush to Calvin’s side to assess the damage and Dallas glares at me while he’s walking away. Meanwhile, Marjorie’s already on the phone notifying upstairs about what just happened.
This isn’t the first time I’ve been threatened since working at the hospital, but it’s the first time I’m taking it seriously.
CHAPTERONE
ICE
Sipping on myBarqsroot beer, I lean back in the chair I’m sitting in. I listen to my brother as he yammers in my ear while I look aroundThe Clubhousebar. It’s packed in here, busier than it’s been in months. I’m so fuckin’ happy for my son, Breaker. He’s really turned this bar into a profitable thing. The club still deals with illegal shit, and I’m sure it always will, but he’s proving he’s smarter than I ever was.
My brother clears his throat, “Sometimes I regret all the decisions I made.” At least once a week, he calls me to catch up. My brother is the Prez of a club out in Birmingham, Alabama. He’s about eight years younger than I am, but our father was in the club life, so naturally, we followed in his footsteps. I started the Raiders MC when I was barely nineteen, and Zeus prospected with the Sons of Gods MC at the young age of sixteen and was eventually voted in as the Prez about twenty-five years ago. I’m pretty sure he was the youngest Prez voted in at the age of twenty-three. He pissed a lot of people off, but he’s always had a good head on his shoulders.
“Brother, you can’t keep thinkin’ that shit. You and I both know you can’t go back in the past and change things. What’s the point in feelin’ guilty about it now?” I say the same shit to him every time. He’s so hung up on his ex-wife, not that I can blame him. She did have a great ass, and she birthed two of his kids . . . but he did what he had to.
His kids were almost killed when they were toddlers, so he pushed them away. He said some fucked up shit to make his wife flee and go to Detroit, where her mother was living with his girls. Zeus made the biggest sacrifice just so those girls could live a normal life. He loves ‘em, and I fuckin’ know it. I might not have been the best father to my children, but I love them all, even the ones that aren’t here with us anymore.
“I know, I know . . . but . . . I just wish things were different.” I can almost see him running his hand over his face in despair. It’s a habit we both have, picking it up from our father. Whenever he was stressed, he’d do the same type of shit. “Anyways, how’re the kids?”
“Breaker’s makin’ me damn proud, and Octavia is doin’ really well.”
“She finally got over the fact you contracted her to marry someone?” Zeus snickers on the other end. If he were here, I would’ve laid a punch into him by now.
“I’m pretty sure she has. Sunny’s told me she’s never seen Octavia happier. They speak a couple times a week, I think.”
“Sunny, huh?” His tone is accusatory as hell. Sunny’s my ex-girlfriend and Octavia’s mom. I did the woman dirty in the past, but she’s got a damn good heart. A better heart than I ever deserved.
“Mhm, you know Sunny, and I are on good terms these days. If it weren’t for her . . .” I lose track of what I’m saying, knowing damn well I would’ve been dead in a ditch now if it weren’t for her.
“She saved your fuckin’ life, man, but at least you were smart enough to make the decision you needed to.” No one can force you into rehab. I didn’t know that. I thought for some reason that it worked like a psychiatric hold, but even though I was coming down from being high and sobering up now, in my gut, I knew I needed help, but if it weren’t for Sunny cryin’ her damn eyes out in front of me that night . . . I don’t think I would’ve ever made the decisions I needed to.
I think even back then, on that dark night, I knew what was coming if I didn’t make a change. All of my daughters were murdered by a woman I knocked up except one and . . . and I was guilty as shit. Hell, Zeus and I aren’t very different. We both have problems letting shit go. Sometimes I sit back and wonder if I was sober at the time, if I would’ve seen what that fucking whore was doing, or if she would’ve deceived me too. While Zeus lives with regret for pushing his family away, I live with my own when it comes to my daughters.
“She did, and I’m damn lucky,” I mutter, sipping my drink again.
“Here’s your food, Ice.” Agony, one of the club’s prospects, sets a burger and fries in front of me. He’s one of those people who’re concerned about me staying sober, but it’s been about a year since I got clean, and I fully intend on staying this way. I’ve got too much to live for. Plus, I don’t think Zeus could live without our weekly calls. I’m not bein’ a dick when I say that. I’m pretty much the only family he has left.
“Thanks, man,” I reply as he walks away and disappears behind the bar, serving the groups of women hooting and hollering as their friend gets up on one of the tables and dances away.
“You can say that again, I think—” Zeus’ voice halts immediately as I hear someone speaking in the background to him. A couple seconds of silence pass before he speaks again, “I gotta go, brother, but I’ll call you next week like normal.”
“Alright, well, you stay safe.”
