Chapter 4

Sage

Ever since my mom spoke about Jackson, well I guess Glock now, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Would he even recognize me now? The last time I saw him, we were both seventeen, and he was sitting beside me at the docks, just staring out at the dark waters. The next day I was gone, and I hadn’t left him a note.

My first phone call to my mom had been a week later when I lied and told her that I had found a lovely place to stay near Nob Hill and had a part-time job bagging groceries at a local store. She’d tried to talk about Glock, urging me to write to him or call but I’d quickly changed the subject. She got the hint and hadn’t mentioned him since.

Over the past ten years, I was under the impression that I had forgotten him. After all, I had only really known him for three weeks. We had grown up around each other, in the same neighborhood, but our paths had never directly collided before that day he offered to carry my mom’s groceries.

Before that, he had always just been the guy I had a crush on. He had shaggy brown hair and green eyes. He was tall, already taller than the other guys and his hair fell over his eyes while he smoked his stolen cigarettes. I used to try my best to not stare at him when I walked past, but he was just so hot. He was my teenage crush, the guy I wrote in my diary about, and it was never supposed to be anything else.

Especially since I was planning to run away. My plan of going to San Francisco had started taking shape when I was fifteen. I started collecting money for it, making plans and researching ideas for the move. It had taken me two years to come up with the final plan. I didn’t want to turn into one of those teenage horror stories of running away from home and ending up in a ditch somewhere. I wanted to be organized and have my shit together before I actually made a run for it.

So, Glock’s appearance in my life seemed to have thrown all of that into chaos. The date of my departure was fast approaching, and here he was, holding my hand and kissing me and listening to me complain about our neighborhood and his friends.

Glock wasn’t like the other boys I knew. He was sweet and polite to my mother, and smarter than he realized. He was funny too, and he was the only other person, other than my dad who had died when I was ten, who could make me laugh. In those three weeks, my crush on him had turned into something more.

I stayed up most nights thinking about a future with Glock, imagining leaving Long Beach together and starting a family somewhere else. But that couldn’t happen. Glock had his family and his friends here. He was getting more seriously involved with the gangs here, and as much as I hated that aspect of his life, I knew it was where he belonged. I couldn’t stay though. I had seen too much that frightened me, and I knew that I had to get out. I had a plan, and I had to execute it. So, I left.

I didn’t leave him a note because I didn’t want him to have any hope for us, I had none. Once I was gone, I was going to be gone forever, and he needed to know that.

So, I had spent the past ten years in San Francisco, searching for the guy who might make me feel the way Glock had, but he didn’t exist. Nobody else could replace how Glock had made me feel.

***

I was outside the same store where Glock had first offered to carry my groceries. I had two big bags full of stuff just like I did the last time, and I was getting ready to make my way back to my mom’s house just like that day.

It was late evening now, and the streetlights were all coming on along the road, and I stepped onto the pavement with a sigh. I could picture the scene from ten years ago like it was happening right now. I had stopped in my tracks when I saw Glock crossing the street. He was making his way straight towards me, and I felt like all my limbs had frozen. When he spoke to me, I couldn’t say anything back. I didn’t need him to carry my groceries, but for Glock, I would have agreed to anything.

I was following the same path now, which we had walked that night. I couldn’t help but wonder if it would be wise to ask my mom a little about him. What was he up to? Had he managed to get patched into the Bad Disciples MC like he always wanted to? I guess with the new nickname of Glock he had.

I gulped as I thought about Glock, with his green eyes, his hair falling over them and how warm and large his hands were. I never liked anyone touching me, in fact, I used to flinch when my mom hugged me. With Glock however, it had always felt so natural. It had always felt safe.

I was thinking about Glock too often since I came home. It had been two days, and everywhere I turned, I was reminded of him. This neighborhood was the culprit, my mom was the culprit. I shook my head to drive those thoughts out of my head. I needed to stay focused and out of Glock’s way. With any luck, I would be able to leave again in two weeks’ time and maybe find a way to get mom to sell the house and move in with me in San Francisco.

I heard the shrill cry at the same time as I checked my wristwatch. It was five minutes past eight. I looked up and down the street, and there wasn’t another human being in sight. I kept walking, thinking it was nothing.

I heard the woman’s voice again, a high-pitched cry like her life was in danger. This time I started running, it wasn’t just in my head; it was an actual person.

The faster I ran, the more incessant the crying became. It amazed me that nobody from the adjoining houses or other stores that were still open had come out to see what the cries were about.

It was coming from an alleyway, and I approached it with the grocery bags still in my hands. At the mouth of the dark, narrow alley, I saw the woman in the corner against a brick wall. A large man, whose back was turned to me, had her pinned against the wall with his hand around her throat.

She caught sight of me and screeched again, and the bags dropped from my hands. The man was turning to me now, his grip on her throat had weakened. I didn’t recognize him.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I hissed as I stepped towards them.

“Mind your own business bitch!” he growled and let the woman go, but shielded her with his massive hulking body. Tattoos were crawling up his neck and a big scar across his left eyebrow. It was difficult to see him clearly in the dark, but I knew he was glaring threateningly at me.

“I can’t mind my own business. You’re assaulting a woman!” I barked at him as I stepped even closer.

The woman could have been a prostitute. She was wearing a tight pink corset and a short skirt underneath. Her pale breasts were spilling out from the top of her corset, and her hair was heavily hair-sprayed.

“Stay the fuck away from us bitch, or you’re going to be sorry!” he growled. I stopped in my tracks, aware that I was all alone here. Even if I threw myself at this monster and tried to scratch his eyes out, he was much stronger than me, and the woman didn’t seem to be in a state to lend me a helping hand.

“You need to let her go, or I’m calling the cops,” I said, and the man threw back his head and laughed like I had told him a terrible joke. Who was I kidding? I wouldn’t have thought of calling the cops back when I lived here. All the cops turned a blind eye to everything that went on in this neighborhood. I’d forgotten.

“Yeah, call the cops,” he growled, and he took one step towards me and grabbed my wrist. I screeched and struggled against his grasp, but he had yanked me to himself. I could smell the whiskey on his breath, and it made me sick.

“Let me go!” I screeched, worried that he was going to do to me now what he was doing to the poor woman. My best guess was that she was a prostitute and he was her pimp, trying to school her for something she had done to anger him.

“Yeah, I’ll let you go, after you’ve sucked on my balls,” he said with a laughing sizzle in his voice, and he kept me tightly in his grasp, close to himself. The woman was sobbing behind him, crouched and cowering into the corner.

“Let her go…please,” she sobbed, but the guy wasn’t paying her any attention.

I screeched again when he caught a fistful of my hair and yanked my face up so he could look into my eyes.

“Perfect, flawless skin, how much money are you going to make me?” he growled and his other hand traveled down my neck, my cleavage, till he had grabbed me between my legs.

“I know Jackson! Glock! He’s going to fucking kill you if anything happens to me!” I screeched. I knew I was taking a chance. There was a probability that this guy had no idea who Glock was.

However, he let me go. His grip weakened on my hair, and I stumbled back from him, panting, trying to catch my breath. I could feel my whole body shaking as I stood and stared at him.

He growled, like a wild animal and then turned around and caught the other woman by her hair.

“Let her go! Let her go!” I screeched, and I could feel hot tears pricking the back of my eyelids. I couldn’t bare to see him hurting her again. What had she done to deserve it? She had a big blue bruise on her jaw, and I stared at it as he dragged her over the cobbled street towards the mouth of the alleyway.

He was letting me free because I claimed I knew Glock, but this girl didn’t have the same fate as me.

“Let her go!” I screeched again, and this time, the hot tears streaked down my cheeks.

“Just go, just get out of here!” the girl screamed back at me. She was crying while she got dragged out of the alleyway.

The guy kicked my bags of groceries, spilling them all over the street on his way out. He didn’t stop or turn to look at me, and I cried, feeling helpless. I had saved myself by using Glock’s name, but I hadn’t been able to save that girl. What was he going to do to her?

After they had disappeared, I ran up to my groceries and started picking them up and bagging them again. The tears didn’t stop flowing down my cheeks. Why had I come back here to this place? The violence had gotten worse. When we were kids, the women and children were safe no matter how much gang violence occurred in the neighborhood. Now it seemed like nobody was safe anymore.

I straightened up with most of the stuff back in my bags, and I hurried back towards the house. I would have to tell my mom, she needed to know how unsafe it was for her in this place. Maybe then she would agree to move with me to San Francisco.