CHAPTER EIGHT
Ty
Until I met Candy, that is.
She looked a lot like Alice, but what's more, Candy made me feel the way Alice used to make me feel. No other girl could ever do that. And the more time I spent around Candy, the more memories of Alice and bits of emotion floated to the surface. I fought them as best I could, but as we kissed in the kitchen like that, I could feel my control over my emotions slipping. Years of tightly binding my feelings so that I could look and act a certain way, started to unravel with each touch of our lips, each brush of her delicate fingers against my skin.
She was like an angel.
A delicate wisp of an angel, beautiful and perfect, emanating goodness, light, and gentleness. I felt awed by her presence and unworthy of her touch and I was almost afraid to keep kissing her. Afraid that I would hurt her, just like I hurt Alice. What if she was just too delicate for a scumbag like me? What if I broke her in half? I couldn't handle another losing another girl like Alice, I just couldn't.
But I was also just a man and I had needs. I haven’t had a good fuck in like six months. I'd been so busy with the Gray Wolves and whatever. I couldn't deny, however, that Candy was exactly my type. I mean, I wasn't picky, I didn't discriminate, but because she was so small and vulnerable, Candy made me feel so protective and just... I don't know, it was hard to describe. She made me feel like a caveman. Like I had to protect her, feed her, take care of her... and fuck her.
So I did.
I wasn't proud of myself, honestly, because I was so afraid of hurting her, both emotionally and physically. I knew she was tiny, but when her clothes came off, she looked even smaller. I held her as carefully as I could, moving because I could tell she was a bit apprehensive, but eventually, I had to surrender to my lust for her. I abandoned my hesitation and just threw myself into making love to her, kissing her, making her gasp and squirm with pleasure, the way she deserved to feel. But even as I touched her clit and fucked her, and I knew she was enjoying herself, I still worried that I might hurt her. I worried that the feelings were too intense for her frail body, that she might just shake so hard she would come undone. I was past the point of no return, though, so I kept going, as slow and gentle as I could until we were both consumed by ecstasy.
I lay down on top of her, supporting myself on my arms and knees, you know, covering her, protecting her, but still making sure I didn't squish her. She smelled so nice, like wild flowers and vanilla. Mentally, I was still obsessing over whether I would hurt her or not, you know, running my fingers through her hair and sort of praying that this didn't end up like Alice when she suddenly started talking about what a good guy I was. It was hard to listen to, honestly, because I felt like a monster most of the time, especially around Candy, who was as angelic as they come. Hearing her talk about me being "sweet" and "gentle" made me want to run screaming from the room because it wasn't true. I felt like a phony, I wanted to tell her she was wrong when suddenly she uttered the "s-word."
Safe.
At that point, I couldn't even help it. Tears came to my eyes because I felt like I couldn't even keep my kid brother safe, so obviously whatever Candy saw in me, was a lie. I couldn't even keep Alice safe. Deeper and deeper my brain spiralled as that word echoed in my mind in Candy's sweet little voice, Safe, safe, safe, safe, and before I even knew what was happening, I was blubbering all over her shoulder and telling her things that I had never so much as uttered to another soul since I had filed the police report all those years ago.
By the time I was done telling her the story, it felt like someone had ripped open my chest with a giant rusty sword. I was exhausted, and my chest was aching and heavy. I was at war with myself, part of me wanting to run from the room and from the house and disappear forever. The other part of me, however, was deeply comforted and relieved to have shared story with her. And Candy was still there, still holding me, still trying to soothe me with her gentle touch. How was it possible for me to feel so gentle towards her and yet, so angry? I was mad at her for making me feel vulnerable, for drawing out this horrible experience. I mean, I was gonna take that shit to my grave, and now this chick knew all about it. I snapped at her when I didn't mean to. She didn't deserve to be snapped at just for being herself, and being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but here we were. Inside my head, I was screaming at myself to shut up while my mouth ran and told Candy she didn't have a fucking clue— because she really didn't. But then again, she was only trying to help, why couldn't I just let her? I told her she had no idea what the guilt was like for me because she'd never killed anyone.
"Well, no," she agreed. "But... I was... troubled, for a lot of years. I hurt a lot of people who didn't deserve it."
"Oh," I said more coldly than I intended. "What happened?"
"Well..." Candy shifted in bed and sighed, avoiding my eyes. She grasped the edge of the covers almost nervously and I wrapped my arm around her shoulders, trying to comfort her.
"When I was a kid, my parents weren't really... I don't know how to describe it. They didn't show much love. Affection, you know? I barely know my father, even though we’ve always lived together. And my mother, well… She was always kind of distant and critical of me. I didn't get a lot of hugs, no one ever said they loved me or were proud of me, so I grew up kind of... broken, in a way. I never felt like I was good enough for anything or anyone. In grade school, I was a major over-achiever, trying to get noticed by teachers and classmates alike, but..." Candy sighed. "I got good grades, but never the love I so desperately wanted. My teachers couldn't be a substitute for my folks. It wasn't their job. So my freshman year of high school, I just... stopped trying. I stopped caring. I started looking for love elsewhere, you know, friends, cliques, and stuff. I was too nerdy to be popular and too boring to be an art student, so I fell in with a group of, like, punks and druggies. At first, it was just a joint here and there before school, then we got high before and after school every day. As we got older, we started doing harder shit and before I knew it, I was a heroin addict."
"Jesus."
"Yeah. And I could tell my life was completely out of control, so at the same time, I developed an eating disorder that made me feel like I was in control. I would shoot up in the morning and didn't even bother going to class most days. We'd get high and wander around, smoke cigarettes, have sex… I'd go for days without eating, too, figuring if I had a beer here and there, that would be enough to keep me going. You don't notice how weak you are when you're strung out. All that matters is getting your next fix. My weight dropped to like seventy pounds and if I went more than a few hours without shooting up, I'd get violently dope sick."
"Shit, Candy..." I whispered, hugging her shoulders. She nuzzled her cheek against my chest.
"When you're deep in an addiction like that, you do whatever you gotta do to get your next fix. And I was really sick and really weak, I couldn't work a proper job, so I resorted to other ways to get what I needed. I fucked drug dealers, I fucked older men for money. I stole from so many people— friends, my parents, relatives, I even stole from some of my teachers. I shoplifted booze because nobody suspects a little white girl of being a thief. I... I got away with so much shit, Ty, and because I kept getting away with it, I kept doing it. I would disappear for days at a time, my parents would have no idea where I was. I usually lied and said I was at a sleepover or something when I was really downtown, in a flophouse somewhere, having sex in exchange for cheap heroin or crack or whatever.” Candy paused for a moment as if to shake off the terrible thoughts these memories brought.
"As you can probably guess, I couldn't keep that shit up forever without some consequences. My body started to give out before I ever got caught. I was hospitalized multiple time for various reasons— hypokalemia, heart problems, breathing problems, overdoses. When I was sixteen, I spent as much time in the hospital as out. I was dying, and didn't even care.”
"I passed out at school one day. I don't even know why I was there, probably trying to score or something. I barely remember, honestly, cause it was so long ago and my brain wasn't working too good at the time. But I collapsed in the bathroom and one of the school guidance counselors, Mrs. Nealy, she... she found me. She brought me to the hospital and stayed with me, talked to me, told me she'd gone through some similar stuff and that she'd help me if I was willing to do the work. Well, I was miserable, I didn't care if I died. I had tried every drug under the sun and had starved myself into children's clothing sizes and I still wasn't happy, so I was willing to listen to her." Candy shrugged. "She helped me get into a twelve-step program, and I went to rehab for my eating disorder. I relapsed into it a bunch of times before college, but I've been clean from drugs and booze since I was seventeen."
"Wow," was all I could mutter. It was a hell of a story, and definitely not one I expected from someone so sweet and angelic, but now that she said it... I could kind of see it. Honestly, I still didn't think it applied since Candy hadn't killed anyone the way I had killed Alice, but it did make me feel a little less monstrous.
"So... I'm probably not as innocent as you think I am," Candy said softly. "I know what it's like to do things you're not proud of. And I never woke up to anyone dead in bed with me, but I knew plenty of people who died. It pretty much comes with the territory of being a drug addict. One of the things I've learned in recovery, Ty, is that we have to forgive ourselves in order to move on in life and learn to live with any kind of happiness. You don't have to forgive yourself right this second, but... I hope you'll at least think about it. Hm?"
I sighed and nodded, just once, mostly because I didn't know how else to respond. There was no way I could forgive myself for Alice's death anytime soon, that was for damn sure, but... a part of me had a little more respect for Candy's opinion on the matter now.
I was ready to just stay quiet and take a nap with her, and I think Candy was too, but suddenly, there was a sporadic knocking at the door which I knew could only be Justin.
"Yeah?" I called, rubbing Candy's shoulder.
"Hello!—"
"Yes Justin—" barely understanding him through the door.
"—Mom's gonna be home soon."
"Oh, shit, the cake!" Candy exclaimed, sitting bolt upright. She scrambled for her clothes and I watched her, thinking she was already so small, I had a hard time imagining how she might’ve looked during her troubles.
"It's alright, we've still got an hour or two," I said, stretching and getting up to get dressed. "You wanna stay for dinner?"
She looked at me with a hint of surprise before her face relaxed into a smile that made my heart stand still. "Yeah," she said, "I'd really like that."
Upon exiting the room, Justin grinned and gave me a thumbs-up. I flipped him off and tousled his hair as we went back to the kitchen to finish getting ready. Without missing a beat, Candy went back to making the cake, finishing the icing and decoration while I started making dinner. I tried not to think about it too hard, but I was pretty preoccupied with thinking about our conversation. I didn't like having all my memories dredged up like that, it didn't feel good. Candy seemed sort of distant as well. The sex had been really nice, but now, it just felt all emotional and raw. I was glad she didn't leave right away, but I wouldn't be able to stop thinking about Alice until she did.
Ma came home and was pretty much over the moon at our little family surprise party. Candy decorated the cake really fancy, it looked like some shit out of a bakery. While I wasn't much good at baking, I did make a mean steak dinner. It was fun, cozy, and a great way to celebrate my Ma's birthday. Pretty soon, however, it was over and Candy had to leave. I enjoyed our time together, but underneath, the whole time, I felt a little bit sad. My chest felt heavy as I took Candy home. I didn't want her to leave, but I also couldn't wait to be away from her so I could forget about Alice, so I could forget about Candy's painful past, too. It was all just too much. I almost wanted to cry as I walked her to her door because by then, there were two things I knew for sure.
One, I knew I was in love with her. We'd only known each other a few days, but Candy was the most wonderful person I'd ever met. She was beautiful and sweet, smart and kind, and I knew this feeling inside of me meant I was getting way too attached. I thought there was no way she could love a fuck-up like me, no matter how much I cared about her. I felt so sad as I kissed her goodnight on her front porch.
Two, I was very much aware that I only felt this way because I was vulnerable. And if there was one thing I couldn't afford, it was a vulnerability. And I was gonna deal with it the only way I knew how.
I would avoid Candy as much as possible from now on.
***
Over the next few days, I kept myself as busy possible so that I couldn't even think about answering Candy's phone calls or replying to her texts. I did respond once, just to give her the courtesy of knowing I wasn't dead, but after that, I had to stop. Just seeing her name come up on the screen made my heart ache in the most bittersweet way that I had to stop and take a few deep breaths before I could move on. I was hopelessly in love with her. And I hated it. I deleted her number from my contacts on principle, even though I could easily recognize it. I knew the tone of her texts, I knew the times of day that she’d try to call- it was horrible. I wanted to hate her, but I couldn't force it. She kept trying to get in touch for days.
Hi hun, hope you're having a good day.
I'm kinda worried about you babe, please let me know you're okay.
Did I do something wrong?
Whatever I did, I'm sorry. I like you a lot. Call me when you're ready.
She stopped trying after that last text.
I didn't have time to be getting mixed up in a relationship anyway because I had shit to do. After they had burned my bar down, we were basically at war with the Wildcats. My so-called "professional" life was chaos, and I still had to come up with the money to pay them or risk my family's safety. Day and night I pursued leads on bikes, did whatever I could think of to try to come up with the scratch, but nobody was biting. It was the most aggravating thing. I was ready to sell my own bike, but nobody wanted it, and my bike was the genuine article. The guys and I all pooled whatever cash we had, but we were still three grand short.
It was humiliating, to say the least. I had never skipped on a debt in my life. I had also never had such a hard fuckin' time selling bikes. On the third day, we met up at a garage downtown to talk, and Charlie told me that there were rumors going around. That preppy shithead, the one who was dating Candy, was slandering our name, so no one would come near us.
"That slimy piece of shit!" I snarled, punching the wall so hard, it bloodied my knuckles.
"Hey, take it easy, boss," Charlie said. "Save it for the 'Cats, huh? We might have to fight 'em..."
"Yeah." I rubbed my eyes, patting the wad of cash in my jacket. "Hopefully I've got three grand worth of flesh for 'em to fuck up. I can't have 'em go after my Ma and brother."
"You want us to send some guys over to your place? Keep watch and stuff?"
"No— er, actually, yeah. And if anyone suspicious tries to go inside, you tell 'em to fuck 'em up before they even get to the front door." I sighed. My body felt like it was full of sand, I was so fucking tired. Between trying to raise the money and pining over Alice, I hadn’t slept and barely eaten in three days. "Charlie."
"Yeah boss?"
"I've been thinkin'. Once this shit's over with..."
"Yeah..."
"I might have to leave town." I swallowed thickly, staring at the stained concrete floor of the garage.
"What!?" Charlie took a step backward, surprised. "Seriously?"
"Yeah." I shrugged. "I dunno what else to do, man. They've never threatened my family before, so things were fine. But you know damn well they're all I got. Everything I do is for them. If they're not safe... y'know, if anything happened to my Ma and Justin..." There thought alone was enough to bring tears to my eyes so I stopped talking and swallowed again.
"Jesus." Charlie folded his arms. "I dunno what we'd do without you, boss."
"You'd manage." I waved my hand. "Runnin' a gang ain't exactly rocket science."
"Nah, but... you're the Canis Grandis. We ain’t gonna find another one so easily."
"Yeah, you will." I gave Charlie an indicative look. "You'll do just fine."
"Me!? Boss, I can't run this thing, I— I'm—"
"You're everything they need," I said. "Plus, they all know you, they trust you. You've been my main man for what, six years now? You'll do great." I stood up, straightening my jacket. I was gonna let Charlie think I hadn't decided, but I was about ninety percent sure that I was gonna skip town as soon as this whole thing had blown over. With what funds, I didn't know, because it was gonna cost money, but I’d figure something out. I had to. My family was in danger because of me. Actually, the guilt of it was kind of tearing me apart. I hadn't even thought about it too much before, but now, the constant swirl of thoughts in my head revolved around, Justin and Ma could get hurt and it's all my fault. Fuckin' everything was my fault. I felt like such a lowlife. I definitely would've just gone out in a field somewhere and ate a bullet, except I knew it would devastate my family and they'd be pretty helpless on their own. I rifled my hands through my hair, trying to calm the mental noise.
"I gotta go meet up with the 'Cats,"
"I'm comin' with you," said Charlie.
"Like hell you are," I snapped. "You're ain’t gettin' hurt because of me. Nobody is."
Without waiting for a response I stormed out of the garage, hopped on my bike, and sped across town to the Wildcats' hangout. When I got there, I noted with some satisfaction, that their front windows were still busted from when our guys paid 'em a little visit. They were messily covered with cardboard and duct tape. I parked across the street and went over, knocking on the door. As soon as the door opened, I was grabbed by the shoulders and yanked inside. You could say I was well known around these parts…
"Let go of me!" I growled, jerking away, but they grabbed my hands, holding them behind my back.
"Search 'im," someone said from the shadows on the other side of the warehouse. "Take everything he's got on him."
"Fuck you!" I bellowed, trying to wriggle away, but there were too many of them, probably a dozen or more. Foreign hands dove into my pockets, felt up my body, someone even grabbed my crotch and ass. "Get offa me you fuckin—"
"Chill out, little doggy," one of them sneered, extracting the wad of cash from my pocket. "Well, well, what do we have here?"
"I came here to pay you," I said evenly. "But..."
"But it's short!" exclaimed the guy who has taken it from my pocket. He was thumbing through the bills, counting, I guess, at a ridiculously fast pace. Who was this guy, the human cash machine?
"Yeah, it's short, I can't make ten grand outta nothing. That's the best I can do, but if you just give me another— hunng!"
Someone slammed their knee into my gut, knocking the wind out of me and making me double over. My eyes watered and I wheezed to catch my breath, stars bursting before my eyes. I was on the ground, suddenly on my knees, and I didn't remember kneeling.
"Ya think so, huh?" said the voice from the shadows. Footsteps approached, the crowd of thugs parting as a man came toward me. He was tall and kinda old for a gangster, his hair a sleek iron gray. His clothes were all black, and his face kinda handsome, but mean. The Wildcats weren't bikers, as such, so he didn't exactly dress the part. I kinda had a hard time taking him seriously, even as he leered at me, gun in hand. He just looked like a regular old grandpa at his hag’s funeral. "Look, you little punk— you don't fuck with a gang's finance."
"I don't have your fuckin' money," I mumbled, "and you burned down my main source of income. You can't get blood from a stone—"
My vision exploded in flashes of white light as he slammed the butt of his gun upside my head. I reeled, dizzy, my vision doubled and my stomach queasy, a warm trickle of blood running down the side of my face.
"No, but we can sure as fuck get blood from a debt-welching rat bastard like you," the man growled. "We're gonna make you wish you'd never been born. Have at 'im, boys."
The gray man with the gun stepped back, and suddenly, six Wildcats set upon me all at the same time. They had taken my knife, plus, I was already injured and on my knees, dazed from being hit in the head. I had zero chance of fighting back. Boots collided with my stomach, my kidneys, my back; brass knuckles pummeled my face; I was thrown to the floor and picked up again just so they could throw me down one more time. These guys hated my guts, and with good reason. Our gangs had been rivals in this town for the last fifty years. They put every last ounce of their hatred into beating me until I was a groaning, bloody pulp.
Honest to God, I thought I was gonna die in that warehouse. I could barely see, but I could feel my blood was all over the floor, soaking my clothes. My eyes were swollen, my nose was broken and my mouth and throat were full of blood. I probably even had blood in my lungs. But I didn't die. Eventually, they stopped, leaving me a battered heap on the floor.
"We have your keys, so we're gonna take your bike and call the debt settled," said the gray-haired guy.
"No!" I moaned, unable to get up from the floor, my entire being throbbing with pain. I couldn't let them take my bike! She was worth at least five times what I owed these assholes! But when I tried to get up and fight, I barely got three inches from the floor before I collapsed again.
" Consider it interest charged." The man jangled my keys tauntingly, then pocketed them. "All right boys, take him home."
I bit back a yelp of pain as they hauled me to my feet. They had to prop me up with one guy under each arm as my legs could barely move. I was thrown into the back of a van. I nearly blacked out while they were driving, my limp body jostling around in the van, but I stayed conscious. I had no clue where they were taking me. That bastard said "take him home", but I didn't really know what that meant. I figured they would probably drop me off at the charred remains of the Den and leave me there to die, which, during the ride, I fully accepted as my fate. I just hoped Ma and Justin would somehow manage without me. Ma had Albert now, after all. I only prayed that the guy would take good care of Justin. And as for Candy, well... I hadn't spoken to her in days, and now, it felt kind of justified. Now she wouldn't even know I was gone. She could move on with her life, and hopefully, she'd break up with that human shit-stain Brent or Chad or whoever the fuck it was that left her at my bar that night.
Yes, I was ready to die. I would crawl inside the burned-out Den and let myself fade away, and I thought, all in all, it wasn't a bad way to go. Better to go out in a bloody blaze of glory and die like a man than sit and wait around to get old, succumbing to dementia, right?
Imagine my shock when the back doors of the van opened and I was dumped out on the lawn in front of my house.
My fucking house, where my family lived. I started to panic because I couldn't let anyone see me in this condition, but it was way too late. Candy was sitting on the front porch and she saw the whole thing. The van peeled out in a squeal of tires and fumes of burnt rubber as Candy cried out and ran over to me, tears streaming down her face. I was losing consciousness fast from all the blood loss, and my hearing had gone kind of funny. She looked blurry, and she sounded muffled and far away as she tried to touch me with shaking fingers, but was afraid of hurting me. I closed my eyes as she kissed me, not even caring that I was all disgusting and bloody. Even though I was kinda mad at her for seeing me like this, even in this semi-conscious state, my heart leaped at her kiss. I tried to protest when she pulled out her cell to dial 9-1-1, but I could no longer form words. Instead, I just groaned, my eyes rolled over, and I finally succumbed to unconsciousness with Candy weeping and clutching my hand, begging me to hold on until the ambulance got there. I wanted to tell her to just let me fucking die already, but instead of saying the words, I just passed out.