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“Alex, things are gonna be okay,” Eagle assures me as we make our way inside the studio to find nothing but complete and utter destruction.
The pictures I had hanging on the walls are smashed, and some of them ripped. My office door is hanging by one hinge on the bottom, with the top one ripped right off the door frame. Everything I had in my office is torn, shredded, broken, and littering the floors. Bottles of water have been dumped all over the brand-new carpeting. The mirrors and windows in the dance studio are shattered, and slivers of glass fill the floor, putting gouges and scratches all over the new flooring. There isn’t a single room that hasn’t been touched, and everything is destroyed. I can’t believe the damage they’ve caused.
“Don’t touch anythin’, Alex,” Eagle orders me, his voice filled with anger as he takes in the studio. “I want McAllister to see every single thing they’ve done. We need to call Reaper about this too. He’s goin’ to be pissed as hell.”
“He’s on a run and doesn’t need to know about this right now. When he comes home, I’ll tell him, and we can go from there,” I practically plead with the club's Vice President. “Eagle, we need to let this go and let him concentrate on what he’s doing. Please?”
“If he calls me, I’m not gonna hold back on tellin’ him, Alex. He’s gonna pissed as fuck he didn’t know about this the second it happened,” Eagle finally relents as an elderly man walks through the door of my studio.
Eagle immediately greets him and explains the situation about what’s happening. The lawyer takes a ton of pictures of each room, shaking his head and showing his disgust for what’s been done to the studio I just opened up. After several minutes, more guys from the club pour in and make their way through the studio. Anger and rage radiate off each and every single man as they watch me. I had a momentary lapse of a breakdown upon first seeing the condition my place was left in shambles. Now, I’m letting my anger take over. I want to go find my father and make him pay for what he’s done to me. All because he’s no better than a petulant child who isn’t getting his way.
“I’m sorry this happened to you, Mrs. Torres,” the lawyer says, his voice full of sympathy as he looks at me. “I have all I need and will talk to the District Attorney to let him know what’s going on. If you have any questions, the guys know how to get in touch with me.”
“Can I start cleaning this shit up?” I ask him, my voice wobbling with emotion.
“Of course, you can. I’ve got the pictures, and there’s nothing more for you to do until I find out what’s going on. Eagle, call and get a dumpster to get rid of the trash here. I want you to keep receipts of everything. Someone is going to pay for it,” McAllister advises us.
“I’m on it,” Eagle declares, his voice strong as he nods.
Starting in the studio, I begin to clean up the shards of glass and other debris littering the floor. A few tears drop to the floor as I clean up the glass shards so no one gets hurt. Greg, who didn’t have anything happen to him when the police were here other than having to remain on the floor of the entryway. It’s not a damn thing I want him, or anyone else, to go through because of my father and his demented ideas.
Greg and the other guys begin cleaning up other parts of the studio. Between all of us, we manage to get the place cleaned up, and all the shit is placed in the dumpsters when we have it all cleaned up. One of the guys had gone out for food, and we ate wherever we could find spots. I’m tired, hot, hungry again, and covered in sweat by the time we’re all done cleaning up everything and getting rid of it. All I want is to go home, take a hot shower to loosen up my muscles, and forget this horrible day. Unfortunately, Reaper is on his way home, and he’s pissed as fuck about what happened today. Sleep won’t be coming for me anytime soon.
