Chapter 7
Ava
AFTER THE FUNERAL, I asked the pastor if he knew anything about the key in the envelope.
“It’s for her trailer home,” he said and gave me the address. “She wanted you to have it.”
I thanked him and then said goodbye.
“Aren’t you going out to the cemetery while we lay her to rest?” he asked.
“No,” I replied, unable to take any more sadness for one day. “Where is she being buried? I’ll stop by another time.”
He told me and then invited me to church the following weekend. I told him that church wasn’t my thing, but if it ever changed, I’d let him know.
“I hope you do. Peace be with you,” he said, staring at me with concern.
“Thank you. You, too.”
THIRTY MINUTES LATER, I stood outside of what was apparently my mother’s run-down, dilapidated trailer. The grass needed to be mowed and the exterior of the home was shot to hell. I had no idea what I was going to do with the place and decided to see if I could donate it somehow.
Expecting it to be just as shitty on the inside, I was surprised to find that it was clean and had some nice furnishings. Dropping the keys on the kitchen counter, I looked around for a while and that’s when I found a stack of brief letters from Andrew. They were in an empty milk crate in her bedroom. Intrigued, I started going through them and noticed that he’d been sending her money in the form of cashier’s checks. I stared at the stubs, surprised of the amounts. Some were over one-thousand dollars. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a whole lot of information in the letters about his personal life and I couldn’t find a return address. As I sorted through each of them, I wondered if it was because he hadn’t wanted to be found.
Sighing, I glanced over to the other side of the bedroom and saw a picture of me when I was a child, sitting on her nightstand. I walked over for a closer look and noticed a Valentine’s Day card I’d made for her back in elementary school lying next to it. I picked it up and grew teary-eyed again as I remembered making it for her. I’d been in first or second grade and so proud of the card. When I’d given it to her, she hugged me and started to cry. When I asked her what was wrong, she’d told me that I was the best daughter in the world and that she didn’t deserve me.
I lay down on the bed and put the card against my heart. Closing my eyes, I stayed there for a while, feeling a hailstorm of sorrow for both my mother and now my older brother. Life had been so unfair for both of them, and although I’d lived in my own kind of hell, I’d been able to rise above it, for the most part. Now, more than ever, I was so grateful that I had Millie in my life.
Suddenly, my cell phone began to ring. I picked it up and noticed it was Dwayne.
“I’m sorry for leaving you like that,” he said, his words slurred. “I shouldn’t have done that to you. It was shitty.”
“It’s okay.”
“No. Everyone’s always abandoning you. It’s not right.” He let out a ragged breath. “I just… I just can’t believe he’s gone. My son,” he said, his voice cracking. “My… my boy.”
“I know,” I replied, heartbroken, too. “It’s not fair. Something needs to be done. Those people can’t get away with what they did. Is there anything we can do?”
He blew his nose. “Sorry,” he said, sniffling. “And no. Nothing legal, at least.”
“Are you sure? Maybe we can find a lawyer or something? Someone who can do some digging?”
“You have no idea who we’re dealing with,” he said. “These guys are outlaws. They live by their own rules and do whatever the fuck they want, whenever the fuck they want. They’re evil, Ava. I’m telling you…”
“So, we’re just supposed to forget about it?” I asked in disbelief.
“Hell no. I’m not,” he replied.
“What are you going to do?”
“Find out who framed and had him killed—and return the favor.”
I was stunned into silence.
He took a drink of something. “Yep. An eye-for-an-eye,” he slurred. “The people responsible for this are drug-dealing, cold-blooded murderers anyway. They’re the kind of guys who turn people like your mother into heroin and crack addicts.”
My blood began to boil as he went on, talking about the type of monsters associated with the Gold Vipers and how awful they were.
“They’re involved with everything. Prostitution. Pornography. Child trafficking. I could go on and on. Hell, I’d love to go vigilante on all of their asses,” Dwayne muttered. “The cops are worthless.”
“How do you know all of this about them?”
“Because the guys I work for aren’t exactly angels themselves. But, I tell you what… they’re not as bad as who we’re dealing with. Not by a longshot.”
“Is there something I can do to help?” I asked in a solemn voice.
He grunted. “You? No way. You can’t get involved. It’s too dangerous.”
“I’m not afraid,” I said, meaning it. The more he talked about revenge, the more my stomach burned for it too. They couldn’t get away what they’d done to Andrew. “He was my brother.”
“I know but you’re… you’re just a girl.”
“I’m a woman,” I corrected. “And one who knows a few things.”
He groaned. “I… I shouldn’t be saying this stuff, especially on the phone. I gotta go, Ava.”
“Wait, give me your address. I’m going to stop by tomorrow, if you don’t mind.”
“I’ll text you,” he said and then hung up.
I put my phone away, snooped around my mom’s trailer a little while longer, and then packed a few things I wanted to take with me. I still didn’t know exactly what I was going to do with the trailer, but knew I wouldn’t be keeping it. I decided to return the following day and look through her financials, to see if she had a mortgage or owed any money on the place. Then I’d go from there.
An hour later, I returned to my condo and called Millie. We talked about the funeral and then confirmed our lunch plans again. Afterward, I took a shower, watched some television, and then lay in bed thinking about my conversation with Dwayne. The more I thought about his plan for revenge, the more I wanted to be part of it. Just like me, Andrew and been used by deviants and assholes. Ones who definitely deserved a bullet and a shovel.
Sighing, I decided that no matter what Dwayne said the next morning, I was going to get involved. Whether he liked it or not.