Complications
Life is full of complications . . . And sometimes those complications arrive in the form of a distraction, often a person we use to forget we have feelings for another. Also in the decisions we make. Even when we know the consequences, we choose wrong, blur the truth, and go about our lives as though each day is easy.
BREEZE
ONLY A LIAR would say they weren’t afraid of high school. For me it was the buildup over my entire educational journey. All the mumblings of how great the expectations would be once I got to high school. Then there were the rumors of cliques and bullies, and the possibility of being stuffed in a locker, or even the dreaded toilet swirly. I had honestly been utterly terrified until Shame reminded me who I lived with. No one would mess with me. Of course, my affiliation with the club also meant no one would want to be friends, or date me, either. For most the fear of high school would fade, but being afraid of Shame would last an eternity.
“You’re going to be fine,” Shame said, pulling me from my thoughts.
I stared at the soggy bowl of cereal in front of me. “It’s gonna suck,” I shot back and took my bowl to the sink.
“Give it a chance.”
I spun around and leaned back against the counter. “I’ll try, okay? But I make no promises.”
Shame simply laughed at me before heading to the clubhouse.
Like any regular day, I threw on jeans and a t-shirt and put my hair up in a loose ponytail. I thought about wearing makeup, but I didn’t want Shame to think I had changed. I did though. Cheesy as it sounded, I blossomed over the summer.
For starters, I finally had hips to go with my boobs. A more proportionate figure gave me a confidence boost. I felt more mature, and I looked more like a woman.
High school was a fresh start for me, and Shame was right—I should give it a chance. The school pulled kids from four different middle schools. That meant I would meet an entirely new batch of students. Ones I didn’t grow up with, who didn’t know everything about me. Although I knew the gossip hounds would inform everyone soon, I looked forward to the experience while it lasted.
Pocket was not in a single one of my classes, which was a bummer. I wondered if her dad had anything to do with it. While he had yet to catch Liam and Pocket together, he suspected. Pocket told me he accused me of helping them. I knew they were seeing each other but I didn’t dare help. Shame was as adamant about the two of them not seeing each other as Mr. Benson.
Thankfully I scored and had gym last period. The only thing worse than being a freshman would have been gym early in the day. Not so thankfully, my day started with math, and I hurried out of the house without a cup of coffee.
By third period biology, I finally felt awake. Of course, the boy taking a seat at the desk next to mine may have been responsible for reviving me. I saw him earlier by my locker. Everyone saw him. He was new to town, but the girls were gawking because he was gorgeous. He was tall with a head full of dark hair and the bluest eyes I had ever seen. I pulled my eyes from his lips when he stood to remove his sweatshirt. He was too tan to be from the northeast. If I had to guess, I would say Florida.
By the end of biology, I noticed new boy returning some of my looks. A quick glance at first that forced me to look away, but soon his eyes lingered longer. I felt them on me, and I liked it. I was so wearing makeup tomorrow.
Lunch consisted of me reading under a tree alone because Pocket snuck off campus with Liam. I tried to eat but managed only a few nibbles of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
My next class, Spanish, was my least favorite, but I hung in. By geography, I was all-smiles. Florida boy sat next to me again. This time, I managed a quick hint of his scent; some spice infused soap teenage boys used. I wanted to lean closer but he watched me, and I didn’t want to be obvious.
I kept my head down for the remainder of class because what would happen if I made eye contact? What would happen if he attempted to relate to me like a normal teenage girl? I mean, the night before I had witnessed Tank escort a guy out of the clubhouse basement whose face looked like raw hamburger. My life wasn’t relatable to anyone normal.
The first day of gym consisted of a lecture on participation. All and all, at the end of the day, I could hardly believe I was going home to tell Shame I loved high school.
I didn’t find Shame in the clubhouse but his car was there so I knew he was home. Unfortunately, when I entered the house, he wasn’t alone. The moaning and grunting coming from Shame’s bedroom toppled my spirit. He never brought girls home, which meant he liked whoever he was with. Though I didn’t know who she was, I already hated her. She was with my guy. Yes, I was delusional but I didn’t care. I was still pretending.
It was impossible to concentrate on schoolwork in my room. I shared a wall with Shame and poor Gus kept tilting his head and howling at the strange sounds. It was awful, like Animal Planet was filming mating calls in the next room. The chick was excessively loud, unnecessarily so. Even if Shame was great in bed, the whole neighborhood didn’t need to hear her. I hauled my books into the kitchen to work at the table. When I could still hear them going at it, I positioned my headphones over my ears and dug into my schoolwork.
I kept my head down, but I smelled them before they strolled into the kitchen. Gross. All I wanted was to be ignored, but no chance. Shame ducked his head in front of mine, signaling with his hands to remove my headphones.
I did and then glared at him.
“What?” I snapped. “I’m trying to do homework.”
His gorgeous smile made me want to cry, because it was for someone else.
“Ah, I take it school didn’t go so well,” he commented.
It was afterschool that put me in a mood and the giggling brunette next to Shame didn’t help. At least she was fully clothed. “You have some makeup . . . right . . .” I pointed to my eyes, mocking her running mascara. “Oh, never mind.” I made a face when she licked the pads of her thumbs and swiped them under her eyes. “Classy one,” I whispered as I threw my things into my backpack that was at my feet.
“Breeze, this is Sabina,” Shame introduced us. I gave an awkward wave and forced a smile.
Sabina giggled again. If she didn’t have wrinkles, I would have sworn she was younger than me. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said, her cheeks flaming red. She was embarrassed for sure, but I wished she would go away.
The knock on the door was my saving grace. I tripped over my backpack on the way to the door, which earned another giggle from Sabina. All of my agitation faded when I opened the door to a sobbing Pocket. She kept sucking in air and each time she tried to speak, nothing audible came out.
“Let me grab a hoodie,” I told her quietly. “We can walk to the park and talk.”
Pocket nodded, her sobs lightening.
“No, it’s cool. Sabina and I will go downstairs,” Shame offered.
“Thanks.”
I pulled Pocket in by her arm as Shame and his hussy exited. Pocket sat on the couch rocking and doing her best to contain her tears but they continued for another ten minutes. All I could do was rub her back and wait. Eventually, I brought her some water and she seemed to be doing better.
“Are you okay?” I asked after making the assumption Liam broke up with her.
She shook her head faintly. “I’m pregnant.”
“Oh wow!” I didn’t mean to sound shocked but I couldn’t help it. Pregnancy was the mother of all life complications, and I didn’t see it coming. “Does your dad know?”
“No.”
“Liam?” She nodded but didn’t smile. “Was he upset?”
“No,” she said but her tears returned. “He wants me to keep it.”
“That’s good . . . right?”
“Yeah . . . No . . . I don’t know. I’m scared.”
Of course Pocket was scared. As a devoted Catholic, her dad strongly opposed abortion, but he wouldn’t want her to keep the baby either. In addition, he hated Liam and the feeling was mutual. While Pocket may have been careless, stupid even, enough people were going to judge her and tell her what to do. All that mattered was what she wanted.
“What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know.” She wiped her cheeks and sucked in a breath. “I’m fourteen. I can’t be a mom, but I’m afraid to lose Liam.”
What could I possibly have to say to her?
She was only fourteen, and Liam was the center of her world. That was normal, right? Hell if I knew. She needed a mature female’s guidance.
“I’ll be right back,” I told her and stood up. She latched onto my arm, shaking her head frantically. “It’s okay. I promise.” I tapped her hand and she finally let go of my arm.
Shame and Sabina sucked face on the couch in the clubhouse. They didn’t even notice me walk by. I found Viv in the basement folding laundry and whispered to her to follow me.
I filled Viv in on Pocket’s situation as we climbed the stairs. Without judgment, she marched right over to Pocket and threw her arms around her as if she had known my friend forever.
“It’s going to be okay,” Viv told her, stroking Pocket’s long black hair. Viv pulled back and clutched both sides of Pocket’s face in her hands. “Right now, you only have one person to think about here. That’s you, okay.” Pocket nodded and Viv released her face. “What can I do to help you?”
“I made an appointment at the clinic for tomorrow. Will you take me?” Pocket asked.
“Absolutely,” Viv answered without hesitation.
Pocket stood up and flashed me a sad look. Her frown and swollen eyes were all wrong. Pocket was the strong one, my rock. She wasn’t supposed to crumble. I depended on her.
“I should get home before my dad sends every cop on the force to look for me.” She turned her head and thanked Viv. They hugged again, and I walked Pocket to the door to see her out.
Once the door was closed, I turned and gave Viv a worried look.
“She’ll be okay,” Viv said to reassure me, although I’m not certain either of us believed it.
“Thank you for helping her. I didn’t know who else to—”
“You did the right thing.”
I wasn’t sure if it was right or wrong, but my friend needed someone more experienced than me to see her through this. And I needed Pocket to get through it.
Viv forged a note from Mr. Benson to explain Pocket’s absence from school and took her to the appointment at the clinic. I walked slowly to class, my mind wandering with worry for Pocket. She had a long road ahead, one bound to cause a war between The Bastards and her dad.
As I entered class, my thoughts shifted with anticipation of seeing Florida boy again. Maybe I even had inappropriate thoughts, like if his ass felt as tight as it looked in his jeans. I sat and absently chewed my pen as I tried to think of a way to convince him I was an average girl.
“Go easy on that pen.”
His playful, yet deep voice sent goose bumps up my arms.
“What? Oh . . . crap.”
I wiped wetness from my lip and noticed black ink on my finger.
“Let me,” Florida boy said, using his thumb to remove the remaining ink.
“Thank you.” I ducked my head, my cheeks warmed by embarrassment.
“My name’s Lance Young.”
I glanced up with his voice and replied, “I’m Breeze . . . uh, Clery.”
“Nice to meet you, Breeze . . . uh, Clery.”
“You, too.” I smiled. He was ridiculously cute. “Where did you move here from?”
“That obvious I’m not from Boston?”
“Kinda. You have an accent.”
“Oh, I have an accent,” he answered with a playful laugh I found adorable.
“Yeah.” I scrunched my nose up and nodded. “It’s wicked strong too.”
He shook his head. “I’m from California.”
Bummer. Florida boy sounded so much better than California boy.
“Wow. Cool. So, do you surf?”
“Uh, no. I grew up on a farm. Cali’s not all beaches and sunshine.”
Oh, Cali boy worked.
“How’d you end up in Boston?”
“My mom passed away, and I moved out here to live with my grandma.”
“I’m sorry.” I frowned. “What about your dad?”
“Never met him.” As he answered, I noticed a slight grimace. Lance had his own bad experiences. Maybe he would be able to relate to me after all. “Where do you live?” he asked.
“On Main Street.”
“That’s not far from my gram’s, maybe we could hang out sometime.”
“Maybe.” I smiled, feeling a little hopeful, until I considered if Shame would allow me time for hanging out, especially with a boy.
“Mr. Young . . . Miss Clery, perhaps you would like to share with the class.”
Lance and I exchanged busted looks. He answered for us. “Nope. We’re good.”
I giggled and turned my attention back to Mr. Parson. At lunch, I went to the library to study, or perhaps to avoid Lance. I liked him but he wanted to hang out.
How close could we get?
I wasn’t even sure if Shame would allow me to spend time with a boy. Not to mention with homework and chores at the club, I was short of time. Lance and I spoke briefly in geography but I maintained a safe distance. Still, I knew I couldn’t stay away for long. I liked Lance.
Sabina was at the house again when I got home. Or she never left. Either way, her presence put a damper on my cheerful mood.
“Hi Breeze. How was school?” she asked.
“Good.” I headed straight to my room, uninterested in sharing about my day with one of Shame’s random bedroom partners. I opened my geography book and found a folded piece of paper. It was Lance’s phone number. He was cute but he would not be interested when he found out where I lived, or more, who I lived with.
“Hey.” I lifted my eyebrows when I heard Shame. “How was school?”
“Good,” I replied with a heavy sigh.
Shame sat on the bed. I wanted him to leave. He smelled like drugstore perfume and sex. “Come on. Your first day of high school and all I get is ‘good.’”
“Technically, it was the second day.”
Yes, I was being rude, and no, I didn’t care. I wanted to be alone to hug my note, like a sappy teenager.
“Ah, well then after two days, I guess you’re a pro. Did you meet any new friends?”
“No.”
He looked at me with suspicion. “Ah, but you met a guy.”
“No.”
“You’re blushing.”
I rolled my eyes. This was an opportunity to see how much wiggle room I had with boys. “He’s in my geography class. New here from California, but we’re just friends. He’s nice.”
“Mrs. Higgin’s grandson?” Shame guessed.
“How’d you know?”
“Nothing happens in Southie I don’t know about. He seems like a nice kid, though.”
Shame left me and I smiled. Lance was a nice kid and Shame didn’t seem opposed to me liking him. I felt a little hope returning, until pounding on the side door shook the entire house.
I barely heard Shame open the door over Gus’s barking. Shame ordered Gus to go lie down. The yelling that ensued brought me out of my room. Mr. Benson stood with two officers, demanding to know where Liam was hiding out.
“I have a warrant,” Mr. Benson barked at Shame, who looked mildly amused. “I won’t hesitate to drag you in for aiding and abetting if you don’t tell me where to find your brother.”
“Okay, Benson. Let’s see this warrant.”
Steam practically shot from Mr. Benson’s ears by Shame’s challenging him.
“I didn’t bring it.”
“Because you don’t have one,” Shame assumed.
“I will soon,” Mr. Benson insisted.
“Well then, until you do, I don’t know where Liam is.”
Mr. Benson looked directly at me. His stare was cold, as if he hadn’t known me since birth. “Do you know where he is?” he asked.
I shook my head. Shame’s gaze moved from me to Mr. Benson. “Do you want to tell me what you plan to charge him with?”
“Statutory rape.”
“Oh, come on. You don’t have any proof he slept with your daughter.”
But there would be proof in nine months. Shame didn’t yet know Pocket was Pregnant, but Mr. Benson obviously did.
“I have enough to attain a warrant,” Mr. Benson threatened. I remained quiet so I didn’t say anything to incriminate Liam or Pocket.
“It won’t stick. Now get the hell out of my house until you have one.”
Shame held the door open and waited.
Mr. Benson started to leave but stopped close to Shame. “If you see him, it would be wise for him to come talk with me.”
“Leave,” Shame ordered.
When Mr. Benson turned to look at me, I pressed my lips together in a slight grimace. I felt torn between the right thing to do and loyalty to my friend and maybe even the club. “Breeze, this is serious. If you see him call me.”
Rather than agreeing, I frowned. Mr. Benson shook his head as he turned and left with the other officers. I hated feeling like I had disappointed him. Shame watched from the window until Mr. Benson’s cruiser drove out of sight.
Shame looked right at me, waiting for me to speak up. I wished I could shrink to miniature size and run away. Pocket was my friend and I didn’t want to out her, but I didn’t want Shame mad at me, either.
“I should go,” Sabina said, stopping to kiss Shame on the cheek.
Her voice annoyed me. I hated she had been witness to what was going on with my friend. It was none of her business.
“Yeah, you should,” I said in a whisper, although I didn’t truthfully care if she heard me.
“Bye, Breeze.” Sabina waved at me and went out of the door.
The second the door closed, Shame’s steely stare returned to me.
“What the hell’s going on?” he asked in a calm but stern tone.
I blinked, and in that one second knew I couldn’t lie to Shame. “Pocket’s pregnant.”
Shock and anger descended over Shame’s expression before he turned and marched out the front door. I followed him, practically sprinting to keep up with his long, determined strides as he raced up the street. “Where are you going?”
“To kick my brother’s ass. Go back to the house.”
I stopped in my tracks and watched Shame keep going. Liam had more to worry about than his angry brother. He was going to end up in prison.
Before going upstairs, I popped into the clubhouse to let Viv know what happened. I paused at the door. Her eyes were watering profusely. For a fleeting second, I worried Shame knew she helped Pocket, and I had gotten her into trouble. Then I spotted the onion she was cutting and let out a relieved breath.
“What’s wrong?” she asked before I even reached her.
“Mr. Benson knows. He came here looking for Liam,” I explained.
“Damn it,” she said, although not much shock was present in her voice.
“What?”
She set the knife down and wiped her hands on her apron, before leaning back on the counter. “It had to be the receptionist at the clinic. She kept telling Pocket her dad had a right to know.”
“Do you think she told him?”
Viv shrugged. “I don’t know.”
I could tell her mind was still working, but I needed her to tell me more. “Well, how’d the appointment go?”
“Great. The moment Pocket heard the heartbeat, she decided to keep the baby. She was happy when she left and excited even.”
“Oh.” I considered that for a moment. “Maybe she told her dad then.”
“Maybe,” she said, although shaking her head with doubt. “Shame must be freaking out.”
“Yeah, that’s an understatement.”
“Listen, I got dinner tonight. Go up and do your homework. Let me know if you hear from her.”
“I will.”
I finished all of my homework, ate a cup of soup for dinner and crawled into bed with my cell phone. Shame hadn’t returned. Gus looked as worried as I felt. Pocket had yet to call and there was no way I could sleep until I knew they were both okay.
I sent Shame a text asking if he found Liam, but he didn’t reply. As time slipped away, I started to doze off, but shot up immediately when the doorbell rang.
Gus barked and ran to my door. “Stay,” I commanded, wedging myself between him and the door. “And no barking,” I said and to my surprise, he stopped and lied down before I closed the door.
I found a sad Pocket on my doorstep.
“Hey, are you okay?”
She shrugged and announced, “I came to say goodbye.”
“What?” My eyebrows pinched together as I waited for her to explain.
“I’m moving to my grandma’s in Iowa.”
“Why?” I broke eye contact and hung my head. My whole world felt like it was slipping away.
“It’s the only way to keep Liam outta jail.”
“Oh.” What was I supposed to say to that? I didn’t know so I said, “I heard you’re keeping the baby.”
“Yeah.” She shook her head, her expression crumbling. “But because I am, my dad will never allow me to come back here, or he’ll pursue charges.”
“Oh, God. Pocket. I’m so sorry.” I offered her a sad smile and rubbed her back. “Is there anything you can do?”
“No. There’s nothing anyone can do. If I stay, Liam goes to prison. Do you know what they do to rapists in prison? Not to mention if he ever got out, Daddy says he’d be on a sex offender registry. Can you imagine? Like he’s some kind of pervert. I hate him, Breeze. I hate him.”
“Ah, honey.”
I hauled her into my arms and didn’t want to let go. When I did, it would be a long time if ever I saw her again. Right then, I kind of hated her dad, too. Pocket was my one constant, the one person I needed in my life to keep me grounded. But she had to leave and there was nothing I could do to stop her. Tears welled as I watched my best friend descend the stairs.
Complications have a way of blowing up in our faces. If we thought with our brains instead of our hearts, disaster could be avoided. But we let our heart guide us because it fulfills a need inside and allows us to pretend we are doing the right thing.
SHAME
Liam wasn’t at Dozer’s. I took that as sign I needed to calm down. So I stole a couple of beers from the fridge and plopped my ass on the couch to think about how to best approach my little brother. Maybe he needed me to simply listen, to quit telling him what to do, and treat him like a grown up. I wanted to, but the kid’s behavior made that kind of mutual respect difficult. Still, he was a man now, and in some seriously adult shit. He shouldn’t have to deal with it alone.
After my anger subsided, I knew exactly where I would find my little brother. He may have been an adult, but he needed our pop. On the walk, my anger returned. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to kick his ass more for making me come to the cemetery, or for knocking up a minor. Either way, I was hell bent on an ass kicking, until he glanced up at me. Tears spilled from his eyes at a steady pace. The kid had not cried since the old man’s funeral.
“Can I sit?” I asked, tentatively.
He looked at me with a blank stare. “Free country.”
Knowing he wanted to pick a fight, I ignored his attitude and took a seat next to him. I refused to look at my pop’s headstone. I knew what it said. He was a hero and a loving father, but he was fucking dead, so what did it matter?
“Benson’s looking for you,” I told Liam cautiously.
“Not anymore.” He returned his stare to the ground in front of him.
“Are you sure?” I asked, unable to mask the surprise in my voice.
“Yes.”
“This is a serious pile of shit you have yourself in.”
“Did you come here to lecture me?”
As he placed his palm on our pop’s headstone, my heart rose through my chest and lodged in my throat. Fuck that. I wasn’t going to cry. Liam didn’t need to see me as a weak bitch. He needed Pop. Pop was strong.
“No,” I answered.
“Then why’d you come?”
“Honestly?” I chuckled. “To kick your ass, but more, I want to protect you.”
“I don’t need protection.” The indignant tone he used informed me I had hurt his pride. Only this wasn’t the time to prove his toughness.
“No, but you might need a good lawyer.”
“No charges.”
It was hard not to grill him, but I wanted to know everything so I could help him. Maybe being there without questions was what he needed. I hoped if I waited it out, he would open up.
Tiny lights flashed in the trees beyond the cemetery as fireflies flickered in the night. Liam watched them too. “You remember when we used to catch them in jars?”
He huffed. “I don’t need a trip down memory lane. It won’t help.”
“Jesus, kid, then what will?” I asked, more into the air than to him as I mentally begged for some way to make my little brother feel straight.
“My girlfriend not moving across the county to have my baby.” His voice rose, filling with more anger. “That would help. Can you do that?”
“Have you talked to her?”
“Of course I have, but she doesn’t have a choice. Either she moves to Iowa or Benson presses charges. I swear to God I’m going to kill that cocksucker.”
“Shut your mouth!” I shouted. “You aren’t killing a cop.”
“I want to. What the fuck is his problem?”
I ran out of patience and staying calm was no longer an option. “His little girl is knocked up by the town gangbanger. Add she’s fourteen, and he has a big fucking problem.”
“We love each other.”
God, the kid was clueless.
“And you’ll love half a dozen more chicks in your life. This will pass.”
“No it won’t!” he yelled. “Pocket isn’t some phase. She’s it for me. I’ll wait as long as I have to.”
There was no convincing him more existed to life beyond what he could ever know at eighteen, or by twenty, he would look back and think he was an idiot. Time was his only knowledge. “You do what you gotta do, but stay clear of Benson.”
“Is that a threat?” he asked, glaring over at me.
It wasn’t intended to be, but since he said it . . .”It is if you bring heat down on the club.”
“You know what . . . fuck you!” His palm connected with my shoulder as he shot to his feet. “All you care about is the club.”
He stormed off through the cemetery pissed as hell. I couldn’t blame him. Losing someone you care about opens a nasty wound, one that takes a long time to heal. I feared how he would act out over the next few weeks. The kid had a mean streak in him that could not be tamed. He was also blunt and what he said hurt, although, it wasn’t a lie. I did only care about the club, because it was all our old man cared about, and I owed him.
Simplifying our lives means avoiding complications. It means we have to stop being lazy. It means we have to live a moral life. It means we can no longer justify our mistakes. It is being accountable for our choices. Life is only as complicated as we make it, and we sure do love to complicate our lives.