PROLOGUE

I didn’t intend to eavesdrop, but the yelling coming from my father’s office was enough to make anyone stop and listen in. I was spending my first day back from boarding school exploring this gigantic mansion with so many empty rooms and hideaways. I could get lost in here and no one would find me for days. My father was an important man, a state senator who spent most of his time on the campaign trail or meeting with government officials. That was pure speculation on my part; I hadn’t seen my father in years and any information regarding his whereabouts came directly from my mother during her infrequent visits to my school. She was so beautiful, her smile made my heart dance with happiness, and when she kissed me good-bye, the smell of her perfume would last for hours on my uniform. I missed her between each visit and counted the months until her next one, but I was happy away at school and never dreamt I’d be forced to leave. They’d sent me away the moment I was toilet trained, and I hadn’t returned once before today. I was a stranger here, with no happy memories from before I went away, my father, or any time spent alone with him. He didn’t know me and I didn’t know him. He was a photograph that sat on the mantle of my dorm room and nothing more, a vague idea of what a father was supposed to represent.

Out of the blue, my mother had phoned the headmaster and told him I was needed home immediately and that a driver would be coming to pick me up. I wasn’t given an explanation; I was told to pack my things and that I was going home. I never had any disciplinary problems, I was a model student with straight As, captain of the debate team, and class president. Maybe my parents couldn’t afford the tuition anymore and didn’t know how to tell me?I didn’t want to leave school, my friends, and all the teachers I loved so much. I begged the headmaster to convince them to change their mind, but he said it was out of his hands and he wasn’t permitted to intervene. The car arrived as scheduled, and I was whisked away before I had the chance to protest any further. I cried the entire ride and didn’t stop until the driver pulled the car to a stop in front of the mansion and unloaded my bags at the door. Neither one of my parents stood waiting to welcome me. It just didn’t make any sense. Why bring me here in such a hurry if they weren’t going to be around? There were no hugs or kisses on the cheek. I was left all alone to wander around like Casper the Friendly Ghost. That’s when I’d heard the shouting.

The screaming grew louder as I approached the closed mahogany door to the office. I didn’t need to press my ear against it to hear what was going on, but I did it anyway. I heard three voices inside, angry men having a heated argument; one of them I assumed was my father. They cursed and called him mean names; I’d never heard anyone talk like that to another person. My father tried to answer, but his voice was unusually high pitched, shaky even, like he was afraid. He giggled a few times between his words like the girls did at school when we told fart jokes at recess. The longer I listened, the faster my heart pounded inside my chest. Something was definitely wrong inside that room, but I was too scared to call out for help.

“You listen to me, motherfucker. I want those building permits and business licenses right fucking now, or shit’s gonna get real hot for you around here,” one of the men grunted out.

“Please, Mr. Calhoun. You don’t understand. I just can’t give you those things without someone getting suspicious. Ex-convicts aren’t allowed to hold such licensees in the state of Virginia without filling out the necessary paperwork and reporting it to the proper authorities. If I gave you those permits, it would leave a paper trail leading right back to me, and with the re-election coming up, I just can’t take that chance,” my father squeaked out his response; he sounded like he wanted to cry.

“You think I give a fuck about your re-election or your fucking rules? This is about payback, motherfucker. The club covered your ass more times than I can count, made all your fucked-up shit disappear without blowback to you. Today’s the day you pay up, you sick fuck, or I will end you.”

“Mr. Calhoun, it’s just not that simple…”

“Call me mister one more fucking time and I swear to Christ I’ll blow your fucking head off.” Click.

The voice of the other man in the room was calmer than the first but just as scary. He was trying to tease my father, like the kids on the playground used to do when they wanted to bully the newer kids at school. I was afraid for my father, afraid of what those men would do if he didn’t give them what they wanted. I wanted to yell out to them to leave my father alone, get out and never come back. If I were bigger, I could break inside and make them stop saying those bad words, but I was just a scared little kid, powerless to stop them.

“Easy, brother. The senator here seems to think he has a choice in whether or not he’s going to help us. I’m sure these will convince him otherwise.” There was a low rustle of papers as if they were thrown across a flat surface, most likely my father’s desk.

“Where…where did you get these? I…please, I’m begging you.” He sobbed.

“That last job we did for you was messy, Senator, real messy, against everything the club stands for. We never touch women and children in our world, but we stepped in to clean up your shit. There are no choices, Senator. You got two days to get those fucking permits or be prepared to sit back and watch your shit crumble down around you. Decide.”

“Please, Mister…I mean, Psycho…I’m begging you to reconsider.”

“Time’s up, Senator. Good luck with your re-election.”

“Okay, I’ll do it…just don’t show anyone those photos and I’ll have your permits by tomorrow. Just…please. We’re all friends. We each want the same things, don’t we?”

“Want the same things? Motherfucker…I…Don’t...Fuck...With...Kids.” Whack. Whack. Crack.

There was a loud crash right before the office door whipped open and revealed my father slumped over sideways in his chair. His mouth was hanging open, and bright red blood dripped down the front of his shirt and onto the floor. Two large men, both wearing leather jackets with patches on them, walked out carrying guns and stood directly in front of me. I wanted to run away and hide, but I couldn’t move; my legs shook so badly, all I could do was stare at them. Their huge arms were covered in tattoos, black skulls in all different sizes, strange writing with funny-looking letters. I couldn’t believe my eyes. They were going to kill me for listening at the door when I shouldn’t have. I was the only witness to a crime, and just like on television, the witnesses always disappeared.

“The fuck you doing here, boy? Don’t you dare fucking lie,” the bigger man with rubber bands wrapped around his beard asked. His voice was gruff, like that of the headmaster, especially when he caught us pulling pranks around school. They pushed their way outside and closed the door behind them so I couldn’t see inside the office.

“I…I live here, my father…I’m Maxie.”

I tried to answer him in complete sentences, but my mouth refused to cooperate. Both men stood tall and ripped, twin towers of terror, ready to crush my tiny head with one massive punch. Their muscles stretched against their vests like all the superheroes in my comic book collection. They could easily beat up the bad guys and save the world from evil villains if they weren’t such mean bullies. I wanted to show them that I wasn’t afraid, that I was braver than my father and would fight back if I had to. I took a few deep breaths and waited to see what they would do next.

Please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me.

“Looks like that asshole senator’s been keeping more secrets from us, brother. Knew we couldn’t trust that fucker.” The second man with dark brown hair scrunched up his nose like he smelled something rotten. “Don’t worry, kid, we ain’t gonna hurt ya’ none. Just needed to have a chat with your old man about some things,” he told me with a smile, and I believed him. His eyes were kind and gave me a warm feeling like he wanted to be friends.

“How old are you, boy?” Rubber band man spoke up, but he wasn’t smiling.

“I’m seven. Seven years old,” I answered with more confidence than I felt. The big man growled low in his chest like a bear, and I flinched when he reached into his pocket to get something. He slipped his gun into the back of his shirt, and that’s when I noticed the blood and scratches across the top of his knuckles. He had to have been the one who beat up my father in his office.

“Your momma? Where is she?” I gave a one-shoulder shrug but didn’t reply.

“Need to hear the words, boy. Answer me,” he asked again, rougher and with more authority.

“I don’t know where she is…sir.” It was the truth; I hadn’t seen her since I arrived.

“Hold out your hand, boy,” he commanded.

I tentatively presented my right hand, and he placed a small object inside of it. I closed my fingers around it, but I didn’t dare look at it while they stood in front of me. It was cold and made of hard metal, but it didn’t hurt when I held it in my hand.

“Buck Calhoun.” Rubber band man pointed to his chest. “Repeat it, boy.”

I did as instructed and repeated his name back to him; it seemed important that I followed his request, so I did it without argument. The two men shared a look, turned, and walked away without another word, not even a good-bye. They left me alone standing outside my father’s office door, alive and untouched. I didn’t know it at the time, but the strange gift would save my life one day and help me begin a new one, a better one.