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The bathroom door was locked. I had to wait while the sounds of some dude getting a blow job echoed from inside. Thankfully, he was a minute man, and they finished in no time.
Once inside, I locked the door and turned the shower on as hot as I could stand it. My clothes felt heavier than usual when I peeled them from my body, and once I stepped into the hot spray and felt the water stinging my flesh, I knew I deserved it.
I couldn’t get the new girl’s eyes out of my head. Big brown doe eyes full of fresh tears when she dropped to her knees in front of her father’s ashes.
Fuck.
My non-existent heart felt a little something at that moment—even if I would never admit it to my boys or myself. The weight on my chest, the darkness swimming in my veins, I was shit for being apart of her pain.
A disgrace.
A black mark on the world.
And I knew one day, all the bad I had done was going to come back and tear me apart.
I stayed in the shower until the water grew cold, ignoring the sounds of people who needed to piss beating on the door. Once I was done, I wrapped a towel around my hips and went to my bedroom. I locked the door, making sure I didn’t wake in the middle of the night to find a strange chick in bed with me.
It happened before.
And then I tossed my towel and climbed into my bed. Instead of going to sleep, I scrolled on my phone, checking some available garage spaces in the area. Soon I would own my garage, and I could step away from the drugs and bullshit.
Soon.
Even with the music pumping and shaking my bedroom door, I fell asleep.
That night I dreamt of broken brown eyes and burning men. I woke before the sun with my chest covered in sweat. The music was gone, but I could still hear voices and laughter. The after-party crowd usually passed out in the living room around the time the sun was coming up.
Knowing I wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, I dressed and went out to the garage to dabble with the engine I was rebuilding. The weekend was almost over, which meant a week of engine repairs and drug slinging. The four of us had a routine. Crow and I would work in the garage while Joker and Saint dealt with our underground business.
It worked.
Especially since Crow and I were on the same level when it came to what we wanted to do with the rest of our lives and what we wanted out of it. I was proud to be a Son, but the fact was, I wasn’t an eighteen-year-old punk anymore. I was pushing twenty-four, and it was time I took care of grown man business like a grown man. I wanted to make my money honest, and the guys, even though they didn’t agree one-hundred-percent, understood, and supported that.
I wasn’t working long before Crow joined me. He stood at the garage door with a steaming cup of coffee. His hair was wet and wild from his recent shower. He looked like he had partied way too hard the night before.
“Feeling that Patron today, huh?” I chuckled.
“Fuck you, man.”
I laughed at that.
“Where were you last night? You disappeared after we saved Molly, and I didn’t see you again.”
I wanted to open up and tell him we had gone too far last night. Desecration of remains wasn’t my jam, but I didn’t feel like he would understand.
“I just needed to breathe.”
He nodded, stepping into the garage and closing the door behind him. “I get it. We went too far last night.”
His words surprised me, and I looked up to find him shrugging.
“What?” he asked. “Even I know it was fucked up. If someone kicked my mom’s ashes, I’d put a bullet between their eyes.”
He rarely mentioned his mother, which meant he was as affected by our actions as I was. Crow was a beast, but he was a beast with a heart hiding somewhere behind his steel ribs.
“It was,” I agreed. “Her fucking eyes, man. She was shattered.”
“She was, but it was her brother’s fault. What kind of asshole hides drugs in his father’s urn?
