Chapter 20
Dragon
I’m probably making a mistake. Hell, I don’t know. I’ve wrestled with it for a week and I’m still not sure how to handle things. The only thing clear is that Dancer is not getting better. He may have allowed Carrie to get closer to him, but a damned fool could see he is just going through the motions. If I continue to ignore it and do nothing? If I do that and Dancer keeps spiraling? That will be on me. So, I know I have to try and reach him. The thing is, I have no fucking idea how to do that.
When I talked with Nicole in Dance’s hospital room and he started having a nightmare, I didn’t think anything of it. I thought he was reliving almost drowning. I know he is having trouble adjusting to the outside and I know he has secrets. I had no idea how bad those secrets are.
When he screamed out against unseen men holding him down, my blood ran cold. When he cried out how he would gut them? My heart stopped. When Dance cried? Cried in his motherfucking sleep? I wanted to join in. I didn’t. My woman did. She cried and looked at me with such sadness, I wanted to scream. Instead I held her close, buried my face into her neck and tried to absorb her. His words didn’t stop, each one more horrific than the next. When Nicole could take no more, I kissed her forehead and squeezed her shoulder. Then, I watched her leave.
It was all I could do not to leave with her. She ran from the room, ran away from the horrible truth. I didn’t. I stood there listening to a story unfold that brought me to my fucking knees.
Now this shit is like acid swimming in my system. I need to try and help Dance. I need to be here for him, like I failed to do when he was locked up. I just don’t know how. I am at a loss. So, I find myself here. I figure I am fucking up, but I’m afraid not to try. Me…afraid. Fuck.
When Dancer makes it into the club the room is eerily quiet. There’s no music, no crowds, nothing. It’s empty with the exception of me. I’m sitting at a table with a bottle of Jack and two glasses.
“What the fuck is this?” Dancer demands stopping at the door. His hands are pushed so far in his damn jeans, it’s a wonder the pockets don’t rip.
I don’t respond. I figure he knows what is going on. I pour two drinks and kick a chair out in front of me. I watch his hand shake as he rakes it across his beard. He doesn’t want this. Hell, I don’t want this.
“Say what’s on your mind,” he orders, watching me.
I take my shot and down it quickly. I drop the glass back on the table. The sound echoes in the room.
“Sit.”
“I don’t feel like doing this shit…”
“SIT THE FUCK DOWN!” I yell, because I knew this wouldn’t be easy, but fuck I don’t need it to be any harder either.
“Drag, this isn’t your concern, this isn’t your fight.”
“Don’t make me tell you again, Dance.”
He sits down, refusing to look at me. He downs the drink I poured and then pours another one, downing it just as quick.
My phone is sitting on the table, the ringer is turned off, but it vibrates.
I don’t bother looking at the number, already knowing who it is. The boys know what is going down tonight. They know to stay away from the club. A few are outside monitoring for protection, but they know not to come in.
“Hey, Mama.”
“Just letting you know I’m here, sweetheart. You were right. Carrie’s pretty upset, she is crying in the bath right now.”
“Thanks baby, try to stay off your feet and tell Bull if he don’t keep you two safe I’ll…”
“I’m pregnant Dragon, not struck with some dreaded disease. I’ll be fine. Stop worrying, you’re starting to sound like a mother hen.”
We just found out she is pregnant. It still seems unreal to me. My heart is so full of Nicole; I never realized there would be room for more. Nicole managed to make that possible though. She gives me more even when I don’t realize I want or need it.
“Whatever Mama, I’ll see you when you get back.”
“Love you, Dragon. Forever.”
“Forever, Mama.”
I hang up and find Dancer just staring at an empty glass in his hand. I take a deep breath and decide to just dive in.
“It can’t keep going on like this, Dance.”
“Don’t know what you mean,” he lies and I know he is lying.
“Tell me another one,” I respond, filling our glasses again. I just stare at mine, the amber liquid blurring.
“I’ve got a handle on shit,” he lies yet again.
I guess hardball it is.
“You look like death warmed over, your woman is currently in a bathroom crying over your sorry ass and all this is after you drove your vehicle into a fucking lake trying to end it all. Doesn’t sound at-fucking-all like you’ve got a handle on shit.”
“I believe I said I don’t want to talk about this,” he growls, moving to stand. “I’m not two, I’m a grown ass man and I do not want to do this.”
I grab his wrist to hold him in place.
“You move out of this chair and you will regret it. We’re going to have this shit out. We’re going to have it out now and we’re going to work through it. I will not lose another brother. I will not lose you. Do you hear me, Dance?”
“You’ve become a meddlesome motherfucker since I’ve been gone, Dragon,” he sighs, but relaxes back into his seat. Only then do I let go and take another drink. Fuck, I’m going to need it.
“You want to tell me why driving your car off a ledge is better than reaching out to your family?”
“I’m not getting why you think this is your business. You weren’t there. You haven’t lived any of this shit. I have. If I don’t want to discuss it, then by god I should have that right.”
He’s right, I think for a second, but disregard it. If he hadn’t tried to end it, he’d be right. If he was coping worth a damn, he’d be right. He’s dong none of those things.
“It is my business. You’re my business. You’re family.”
“This family is so fucked up Drag. I’m not sure that’s a good thing anymore.”
It’s a low blow, but I allow it. I still can’t figure out how I missed the signs about Irish.
“You can talk or I will, Dance. It makes not one damned bit of difference to me at this point.”
“I got nothing to say.”
I sigh. I was hoping this would go a different way.
“When you were unconscious at the hospital you had dreams,” I watch as my brother’s face turns pale white.
“You don’t get to go there, Dragon,” he says, the words lie heavy in the quiet room. His voice is laced with a cold anger that could chill a man to the bone. “This is my fucking life, and you do not get to go there! You do not get to fucking discuss it and we’re not talking about this fucking shit!”
He gets up throwing his glass across the room. I don’t know where it lands. I’m too busy watching my brother. Too busy seeing the misery inside of him literally bleed to the surface.
“This does not concern you, Dragon. This has nothing to do with you. This is my fucking life and I will deal with this shit the way I want to!” He growls starting towards the door.
“You’re not dealing with it, Dance. Man, you aren’t even going to the damn therapy appointments the hospital set up.”
“You’ve been fucking checking up on me? What the hell gives you the right?” He yells, turning around to look at me.
“Dance man, I care about you. Hell, we all do. I want to help you.”
“You can’t help me! You don’t know a fucking thing about it! While you were here finding the woman you wanted, I was the one rotting away! I was the one locked behind steel doors, spending my nights staring through bars! I was the one being beat down by the guards! I was the one whose soul was shriveling inside—dying little by little, piece by piece, every fucking, damned day! I was the one who was held down and beaten nearly unconscious while the guards laughed! I was the one they forced! I was the one…SON OF A BITCH! JUST STAY OUT OF IT! It was me, not you, not Crusher, not motherfucking Bull, none of you! It was me! So, don’t you fucking try to tell me what the fuck I need to do! You have no clue! NONE!”
He slams out of the room and I let him go. I let him go, because I have no idea what to do. Fuck, maybe I’ve made it worse.
I have to do something. Anything, because some things can’t be unheard, some things can’t be undone. Some things eat holes in you. My brother has holes the size of the fucking Grand Canyon eating him alive and I don’t have the first idea of how to help him, but I have to try. I have to.
I need to start finding who exactly was involved in those attacks—every last fucking one. I can’t use Freak or none of the boys though. This secret is Dance’s and I will NOT add to his pain, but I am going to find every last man involved and then I will make them bleed and beg for death, before I end them. Believe me, I will end them. I will.