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“I think I can help you do that.” Grace smiles at me before getting up and moving over to the couch. She picks up the controller for the tv and switches it on. “Welcome to the world of Netflix. There are a ton of trashy movies on here. Love stories that didn’t start with kidnap or trafficking. You wanna lose a few hours indulging with me?”
“Sounds perfect.” I nod, taking a seat on the couch beside her.
We’ve been watching from the derelict house, across the street from our target, for over five hours, and shit-all is happening apart from a few kids making pickups.
Kenny G is a small-time wannabe gangster, who thinks Pueblo is his personal playground. But, in order for us to take the town, he needs to be put in his place. We do that by destroying all his assets.
I don’t want to be here. I want to be back at my cabin, close to her. It’s getting harder and harder to ignore the pull between us and damn near impossible to keep myself from yielding to it.
“You’re gonna have to take over. I need to take a shit.” Squealer shifts from his position by the window and hands me the binoculars. I take his post, looking between the shutters over to the crack house.
The place looks like it used to be a family home. There are remnants of white paint on the picket fence out front, and in the silence of the night, I can hear the squeaking of metal coming from the swing in the yard. It’s old, rusty, and probably hasn’t been used in years, but it reminds me of the one we used to have when we were kids.
Beth would always be swinging from it while she waited for me and Squealer to get off the school bus.
I’ll never forget her smile and how happy she’d look to see us.
Mama homeschooled Beth, though I never figured how since she was always working in the diner, and there’s no way Rick would put his beer down and put any effort into books and learning.
The asshole was usually drunk way before lunchtime. Still, Beth was bright. She loved to read, and despite being two years younger than us, she always made sure mine and Squealer's homework got handed in on time…
Aged 12
Beth looks sad when we walk into the yard. She doesn’t even smile for Cody, and she always gives him her best smiles.
“Had a good day, goldilocks?” He yanks one of her pigtails as he passes her but doesn’t bother to hang around for a reply. Beth doesn’t react. She just keeps swinging. She seems different somehow, and I want to check if she's okay. But before I can go to her, Rick stands himself in my way.
“You got chores to do, son,” he spits at the ground, missing my sneaker by an inch.
I want to punch him in his ugly, pissed-up face. I ain’t his son, and it don’t matter that I don’t know whose son I am. I’m just grateful that I ain’t his. Rick knows how much it pisses me off when he calls me that, which is exactly why I won’t react to it. I’ve felt the force of his fists more times than I want to remember, and the only lesson I ever learn from them is that they fucking hurt.
“I got homework to do,” I mutter under my breath, refusing to look him in his bloodshot eyes.
“It’s true. we both got calculus to do,” my brother calls out. He knows the price for answering back and gets far more hidings than I do because he just can’t hold that tongue of his.
“You can get that done once you’ve finished up your chores.” Rick grabs me by the scruff and forces me into the house. He’s got me tripping over my feet, but I still don’t react.
Sometimes, I wonder if that frustrates him more. Cody’s always trying to fight back. Whereas I let Rick take his pleasure in punishment. But I deny him the privilege of knowing that he gets to me.
Beth’s still swinging, her hands clinging to the chain so tight her knuckles are turning white, and I don’t like the glassy look in her eyes. She’s vacant, and there's no doubt in my mind now that something's wrong. This one I can’t blame Rick for. He never treats Beth the way he does me and Cody. He treats her like she’s special, never gives her chores, and would never give her a beating.
“You’re scared of him, ain’t ya?” Cody sniggers when I join him out by the woodshed. He tosses me an ax, and I slice it through the air.
“I ain’t afraid of him,” I lie, smashing the ax deep into the tree stump and imagining it's Rick’s head cracking under the blade.
“You soooo are. You never stand up for yourself. Always giving him that yes sir, no sir bullshit that gets his dick hard,” Cody teases as I wiggle the blade free and wait for him to place a fresh log on the stump.
“What difference does it make? You still get fucking pounded,” I point out, noting that my brother suddenly looks ashamed.
“You know, one day, we’re gonna be big enough to fight back properly, and that old fucker will regret every hit he ever put on us.”
I pull back the ax and slam it down hard, impressed when I split the log right through the center. Cody kicks them aside with his boot and loads up.
“He hit Mama last night,” Cody’s voice goes quiet. I question if he actually wanted me to hear him.
“I heard them going at it downstairs after you fell asleep, and when she came up, I opened the door to check on her. Her eye was all swollen and red from that fucker's temper. We need to make him pay.”
I want to make him pay too, but Cody seems to forget the fact Rick’s a shit ton bigger than us and got our mama trained like a dog.
