Alyssa had debated with herself for quite some time before she decided to do what she was doing now. She had tossed and turned for most of the night, thinking about Prince’s words and his story. No matter how hard he tried to push her away or intimidate her, there was no way she was going to let him rot in Pinebrook any longer.
The idea had come to her during the night. She didn’t particularly like it, but in the end she decided it may truly be a good place to start after all. Besides, she suspected she wouldn’t like pretty much anything about going behind the back of the most ruthless motorcycle gang in the area.
Prince’s father lived in a rundown house on the outskirts of town. Alyssa’s heart was beating like a war drum in her chest as she drew up to it, and it didn’t stop when she got out of the car and walked up to the decrepit front porch. She had not seen the man in eight years, and even back then she had hated it every time she would get to see him, whether in this house or because she just ran into him somewhere. He had a reputation for being violent and unpredictable, and even the adults steered as clear from him as much as possible.
Alyssa had hated that man for a very long time for all that he had ever done to Prince. She hated him even more now. What kind of man let his son throw away his life and enter an illegal fighting ring to pay off his own gambling debts?
She took a deep, calming breath. She knew she had to play this just right. She couldn’t screw it up. And that meant that she would have to suppress her hatred and disgust and keep her temper in check. It would not be easy.
She knocked on the door and waited. And when nothing happened she knocked again. And again.
When the door finally opened, Alyssa had to do a double take. The man that stood—or rather, hunched—in front of her had little to do with the man she remembered. Philip Wheeler had been a drunk on the path to destruction, but still he carried himself with some dignity. His back was straight and his shoulders were squared. This man was something different. His brown hair had gone completely gray. He stood hunched in over himself, as if he couldn’t carry his own weight anymore. His muscular figure had become floppy. His gray eyes used to be unfocused with the anger that was eating him up inside—now they were just dark with sadness. His features were etched with lines that used to barely be there.
It looked like a lifetime of alcohol abuse had finally caught up on him and his body. Alyssa felt almost sorry for him. Almost.
“Hello, Mr. Wheeler.”
He peered at her from under grayed eyebrows. “Who are you?”
Alyssa blinked. She had not expected that, but she supposed it was only fair; it had been eight years after all. “It’s Alyssa. Alyssa Kelley.”
He stared at her like he didn’t believe her, and then recognition finally struck. “Alyssa!” he said. “Wow. You’ve grown up.”
Oh, you have no idea, Alyssa thought fiercely. She bit her lip and forced out a smile that she could only hope didn’t look as strained as it felt.
“I came by to thank you,” she said. “For the flowers and everything.”
It made for the perfect excuse to come and see the man. The day of her parents’ funeral, Philip had sent flowers and a note of condolences her way, along with a tuna casserole, because nothing said “I’m sorry” like a casserole.
He looked at her in confusion. “I didn’t send anything,” he said. “Which I regret,” he added as an afterthought. “Your folks were good people.”
It was Alyssa’s turn to be confused. “But…if you didn’t send those, then who did?”
Philip shrugged. “It must’ve been Prince.”
“The note bore your signature only.”
“He must’ve thought he didn’t want his old man to look like a prick after all,” the man guessed. “I guess it was nice of him to include me.”
“But he didn’t send anything.”
“He didn’t?” Philip laughed roughly. “What an asshole.”
Alyssa’s jaw clenched. She gritted her teeth so hard she could almost hear them clashing against one another.
“Well, thank you anyway,” she said, forcing her voice to remain calm and casual. “I’m sure you would’ve sent something yourself if you could.”
“That makes one of us.”
Old age had apparently brought an abrasive quality to the man. He spoke the truth now, and it was caustic. Alyssa wasn’t sure whether she liked this version Philip better than the old one.
There were a few moments of awkward silence. Then, against all of her expectations, Philip said, “Would you like to come in? I’ve got coffee.”
“I’d like that,” Alyssa said readily. “Thank you.”
She had not been counting on this. In fact, she had still been trying to think of an excuse to invite herself into the man’s home so that she could talk to him. Against all odds, Philip was actually making things a little easier for her.
She followed him inside. The house was less messy than she had expected and a lot cleaner than she would have thought considering that Mrs. Wheeler was no longer around. The furniture was scarce and plain, but all in all the house was tidy. Even the kitchen was clean and devoid of the empty cans of beer that used to litter it back in the day.
Philip must have noticed her surprise, because he gave her a tight smile. “I know,” he said. “Who would’ve thought, huh?”
“No, I…I mean, I wasn’t…” Alyssa trailed off. There was no point in lying to the man; they both knew what he was—or, as Alyssa was starting to realize, what he used to be. “Yes,” she admitted. “Who would’ve thought?”
“It’s not all my doing,” he said. “The State doesn’t give me much, but I still managed to hire a maid. Mrs. Hudson comes by twice a week to help me keep the place somewhat presentable.”
“It looks like you’ve been doing a good job so far,” Alyssa offered.
“I can’t complain,” Philip said. “Please, have a seat.”
Alyssa complied. She sat at the kitchen’s table and waited for Philip Wheeler to brew her a cup of coffee. The whole thing felt surreal to say the least.
And then something he said hit her. “The State doesn’t give me much.” What did he mean, the State? Then again, Alyssa figured after a moment’s thinking, it wasn’t like he would freely admit that he was also receiving money from his son’s fighting as a competitor in an illegal ring.
“So,” Philip said as he busied himself with preparing the coffee, “how’s Canada?”
“It’s very beautiful,” Alyssa said.
“Your dad mentioned you work in a veterinary clinic up there?”
For a moment, Alyssa wondered where her dad got off to, talking about her personal life with Philip Wheeler of all people, but she quickly decided she didn’t want to investigate.
“Yes,” she said instead.
“Do you like it?”
“Yes.”
Philip turned around to face her. He watched her curiously. “Speaking of, I get the sense you don’t like me very much.”
“Can you blame me?” Alyssa retorted before she could stop herself. However, if he could be dishing out caustic truths, then so could she.
“I guess not,” he said after a moment. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life. And I mean, a lot.”
It still sounded like some of an understatement to her, but this time Alyssa didn’t say anything.
Once the coffee was ready, Philip placed two steaming mugs, milk, and sugar on the table. He sat down across from her, and the intense scrutiny of his gray eyes was disturbingly similar to that of Prince’s green ones.
“Why are you really here, Alyssa?”
Apparently, even the questions were similar.
“I need to take care of some of my parents’ affairs,” she said, as truthfully as she could.
“That’s not what I meant.”
She looked at him over the rim of the mug that she was now cradling between her hands.
“I mean,” he elaborated, “why are you here, in my house? I’m pretty sure it’s not to thank me for the flowers I didn’t send.”
Alyssa had never seen a sobered-up version of Philip Wheeler before. It was plain to see that he had not touched any alcohol for a while, and as disconcerting as that was, it was nothing compared to the sharp wit he was exhibiting. She wasn’t sure whether his newly found sharpness could be an ally for her purposes or if it only complicated things further.
“I’m here to talk to you,” she finally admitted.
“About what?”
“About Prince.”
To her surprise, the man went rigid. His body suddenly emanated stellar levels of tension so thick that you could probably cut it with a knife if you only cared to try.
“What about Prince?” Philip asked, his voice cold and hard as steel.
Alyssa had not expected such hatred. To be frank, she couldn’t even understand where it came from.
“This Devil’s Fighters business—”
“It’s rotten,” Philip cut her out forcefully, all but spitting the words. “He’s rotten.”
Alyssa stared at the man in shock. She could not believe the words that were coming out of his mouth, or the utter disgust that he seemed to harbor for his own son. A son who, by the way, had thrown away his life in order to save his.
Ungrateful bastard, Alyssa thought furiously.
“How firm of a hold do they have on him?” she enquired instead, doing her best not to let her own anger show. “How long is the leash?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “And I don’t care.”
Alyssa frowned. “What do you mean, you don’t care? How can you not care?”
“The boy is a disgrace,” Philip spat, visibly almost choking on the words. “I may have made many mistakes in my life, but I never consorted with the Devil’s Fighters. He was dead to me the day he joined their ranks.”
Alyssa was too appalled to keep her cool any longer. “You never consorted with the Devil’s Fighters?” she repeated, incredulous. She was so furious she even ignored the melodramatic quality of his statement. “Are you shitting me? You gambled with them! Your gambling contributed to finance their godawful fighting rigs!”
Philip looked quite surprised that she would know that. “I did,” he eventually admitted. “But I was never actually one of them.”
“He did it for you!” Alyssa blurted out. She was horrified by this man, and she felt incredibly stupid for even ever considering the possibility that he might have changed. He may not be drinking anymore, but he confirmed himself as one of the most horrible persons she ever had the misfortune to meet in her life.
After the red-hot wave of rage subsided a bit, Alyssa noticed that Philip suddenly looked as if he had been slapped.
“What do you mean, he did it for me?” he asked. His voice had lost its cold note and had gone very rough and very quiet.
That’s when Alyssa was finally hit with realization. “You don’t know?”
Oh God. This was worse than she had imagined. Prince was going to kill her when he found out—and he would find out, there was no doubt about that.
“Know what?” Philip asked quietly.
“Nothing,” Alyssa said, and it sounded incredibly lame even to her own ears. “Thank you for the coffee.”
She made to stand, but Philip reached across the table and grabbed her wrist, effectively keeping her in place.
“No,” he said firmly. “You don’t come to my house, tell me my son has joined a motorcycle gang for me, and then leave the scene. It doesn’t work like that.”
Alyssa stared at him. She sighed heavily and slumped back in her chair. “Fine,” she said, because really, what else could she say? What else could she do? She had started this. She had to finish it. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
And so Alyssa told him, and she watched as the man’s heart pretty much broke in front of her.
“I don’t believe this,” Philip said once the whole sordid tale had been told.
Alyssa cringed. “You couldn’t really think Bennie Lenday got you off the hook out of the goodness of his heart?” she asked, as gently as she could.
“I…” Philip looked completely lost. “Hell, I don’t know. I guess I just wanted to believe that. I didn’t use to do much thinking back then.”
Yeah, I remember, Alyssa thought bitterly, but she had the good grace not to voice the words.
“So all the money you’re getting really comes from the State?” she asked after a moment.
“Yes,” Philip said. “Where did you think it came from? Even if we were still on speaking terms, I’d imagine Prince’s money goes right in Bennie’s pockets. And what he can keep for himself certainly comes nowhere near me. Which I don’t blame him for,” he added when he saw Alyssa opening her mouth to protest.
Alyssa blushed a little, feeling suddenly embarrassed.
“I can’t help you,” Philip said then, breaking the heavy silence that had descended upon the room. “I wish I could, but as you can probably tell by now, I don’t know shit.”
And he really didn’t.
*****
Alyssa had always known this wouldn’t be easy, but she did not expect to screw up so early in her endeavor. Prince was going to kill her. He was going to find out, and he was going to kill her. She still couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that Philip Wheeler wouldn’t know anything about what his son had done and was still doing for him.
As she drove home, Alyssa couldn’t get the shattered look on the man’s face out of her head. In less than twenty-four hours since she had been back in Pinebrook, she had managed to drive away the man she loved and swore to protect and to break an old man’s heart.
Way to go, you idiot, she berated herself cruelly.
She had never missed her parents more. They would know what to do. They would have helped. They would have guided her. She missed her father’s council and her mother’s gentle steering in the best direction for her according to the circumstances. They would have prevented her from making mistakes as huge as the one she had made today.
The more she thought about it, the more disheartened she felt. She had known it wouldn’t be easy, but she hadn’t expected it to be so hopelessly complicated on all fronts either. She realized now that she had to reckon with more than “just” the Devil’s Fighters. There were dynamics to take into account. Feelings, emotions. People’s regrets and shattered dreams. Complicated relationships.
There was a lot at stake, and for the first time since she had decided to get Prince out of there, she realized that it wasn’t just about making sure he would escape with his life intact. It was about him escaping with his heart intact, as well. Pinebrook’s reality was rotten and so was Prince’s, but there were still things she would have to make sure were preserved. She thought of Rick and of his bond with Prince, which Prince himself had admitted was quite strong. She wondered if could get Rick out, too, and she wondered how Prince would be affected if she couldn’t.
A new wave or rage washed over her then. The Devil’s Fighters were proving to have an iron hold on not only the town—but they had a hold on people’s hearts, too. They had a say in everything—from public construction to who and how their members loved. It was insanity at its highest, and Alyssa still had no clue how to deal with it.