Transition
Going through a period of transition can be scary. It can also be deeply rewarding. Taking on a new role, or accepting your current role, takes mental growth. To grow takes time. While we feel lost tiptoeing through a transitional period, there is much to learn along the way.
BREEZE
“FIRST DAY BACK to school in my care and you get in a fight.” Shame spoke through gritted teeth. I couldn’t tell if he asked me a question, or scolded me. Either way, I felt on edge. Gus growled at him from next to me on the bed. I scratched his head, smiling on the inside, until Shame said, “Heel.”
Gus whimpered and buried his head under his paws.
“It was more of a scuffle,” I said, hoping nonchalant humor would ease the tension.
His narrowed eyes showed me my effort fell flat. “You’re not cute.”
“What do you care?” I shot back. “You fight all the time.”
“Not because some douche called me a name.” His hand raked through his hair once as his features softened. “Jesus, Breeze you need to thicken your skin.”
“And let me guess? You know exactly how to do that?”
“I don’t have a fucking clue.” Shame sighed, sitting next to me opposite Gus and rolled up his sleeve. He rested his forearm on his thigh and stared at me. Thin scars streaked his skin from his wrist to the fold in his elbow.
“What happened?” I asked horrified.
“My old man’s way of thickening my skin.”
My chest hurt. I wanted to cry. I felt angry for Shame. I wanted to touch the scars and tell him I was sorry, but he didn’t appear to see them in the same light I did. As neglectful as my dad treated me, he would never lay a finger on me.
“By cutting you?”
“Yep.” Shame grinned as if the memory made him happy, which confused me. “And when I cried, he would blacken my eye.”
My jaw dropped.
How could a father do that to his son?
“Oh, my God. That’s awful.”
“It wasn’t fun, but it was Pop’s way. All he knew to teach me, words are just words. He would say, ‘Son, there will always be something that hurts worse. You may be physically tougher than your opponent, but you’ll only win when you’re mentally tougher.’”
“The brains . . . beats brawn, theory? That’s lame.” I rolled my eyes at the absurdity.
He chuckled. “Might be lame, but he was right. The old man was always right. Bitch drama is nothing compared to some of the shit life can throw at you. With what you’ve been through, you should know that.”
I frowned, thinking his father’s methods were preposterous and Shame bordered on psychotic for not seeing it. But what was I going to say? My dad didn’t exactly win father of the year honors. Neglect had to be considered as much abuse as what Shame’s father did to him.
“What’d this girl do?” he asked.
I chewed my lip for a bit. Sitting there with Shame, after what he shared, made the whole incident seem ridiculous. Knowing he wouldn’t simply drop it, I blurted, “She called me a slut.”
“So?” His reply was instant and without understanding, which stung a little.
“Everyone thinks I slept with you. Look.” I held up my phone with the picture of my locker. His lips curved up slightly as he looked at the photo. “You think it’s funny?”
Shame laughed. “Nah, but I got this vision of tiny little you layin’ her out.” I returned his laugh, but didn’t comment. He added, “It’s only a word . . . right, I mean, are you a slut?”
“God . . . No!” I blushed. He knew I was a virgin. He knew the moment he kissed me. “I’ve never had sex, or anything else.”
“Then why do you care what some jealous girl thinks of you?”
Because I’m a teenage girl and that’s what we do.
“It wasn’t so much calling me a slut . . . She bashed my dad and as fucked up . . .” I paused with the warning look he gave me. “As screwed up as he is, he’s my dad.”
“All right.” He grinned. “I mighta put her on her ass, also.” His shoulders relaxed. “Don’t worry about this girl. I assure you, as long as you’re in this house, no one’s gonna mess with you.”
I smiled at him, but I didn’t exactly feel relieved. Now I worried about his assurances. He planned to take care of Alicia with a mental approach I clearly didn’t possess. I needed to be more careful what I shared with Shame. My living situation left me exposed enough. So much for fitting in, but at least Shame would see to it I was left alone.
“I need to run up to the store,” I said, remembering I started my period. This day had pretty much sucked all the way around.
“Viv will take you tomorrow.”
“I need to go now.”
“Why?” he questioned, appearing irritated. “You have homework. Whatever it is can wait.”
I could feel my face glowing red, as I looked at him with my eyebrows high. He waited, clearly not understanding my blatant humiliation. I was going to have to say it out loud. “I need tampons.”
“Oh . . . oh shit. All right, yeah. Go down now and see if Viv can take you.”
Shame practically ran out of the room. This transition into teenage girl caregiver flustered him like nothing else. Clearly having me around until I turned eighteen would be tougher on him than he anticipated. I laughed and fell back on the bed, scratching Gus on the nose. “Your owner didn’t know what he got himself into with me . . . Ew!” I shouted as Gus’s wet, sloppy tongue swiped over my lips. I wiped my mouth and sat up. “No tail,” I ordered, pointing, but he ignored me and kept wagging his nub.
Eventually I would train him and his stupid owner to listen to me.
School went easier after that day. Alicia steered clear of me, as did everyone else. I didn’t get to see Pocket as often as I wanted. We only spent time together at school between classes and at lunch. Her and Liam were a secret, especially after he turned eighteen. She devoted all of her time to sneaking around with him, whenever he managed to ditch Dozer. Not to mention, Shame banished her from stepping foot in the clubhouse, and schoolwork and chores occupied the majority of my time.
Over the next month, I buckled down. Shame spent most nights out of the house. I had no idea where, but I knew it was with a woman. His clothes smelled like her perfume. Not that I played detective, or snooped intentionally, but I did the laundry.
Every second of free time, I devoted to school work and reading. I turned in my missing assignments and studied my butt off. To my surprise, when progress reports came out and I had straight A’s, a sense of pride flourished within me. I had not felt that way since I won some silly citizen award in Kindergarten.
Pink roses awaited me in my room the same day after school. I remembered smelling them as I sensed Shame behind me. I turned around to find him leaning against the doorjamb.
“You got me roses?”
He shrugged. “Viv picked them out.”
“Ah.” He used Viv as an excuse whenever he did something thoughtful.
“We wanted you to know we were proud of you and to keep it up.”
“Thanks.” I smiled. “They’re lovely.”
He grimaced before leaving me alone. I had come to notice Shame always looked pained when near me. I supposed he felt the same discomfort I did with him, like I constantly had to fight against my feelings because they were wrong.
The chores around the clubhouse weren’t terrible, except picking up Dozer’s dirty socks, which for the life of me were always on the floor. They bordered on toxic and most days I used a set of tongs to pick them up. But he was a cool guy, and he made sure none of the youngens’ bothered me.
I liked Tank also, as did everyone. Tank was the guy who made all of us laugh. Dusty was my favorite of the youngens’, mainly because he followed me everywhere, and I had taken to giving him crap for it. Our relationship consisted of a game of cat and mouse that delighted both of us. Viv insisted Dusty being assigned to follow me provided protection. Of course, no one would share what, or who, I needed protection from. I assumed from the club’s enemies, but I didn’t want to think about it too hard.
For the most part, Shame did his best to ignore me. I saw him at dinner and he popped his head in my room at night to make sure I studied as required. Thankfully I had Viv to talk to, or I would have been helplessly lonely.
Life is a series of steps. Each stage, we gain knowledge and experience. The hope is by the time we reach the top, we have transitioned into who we are meant to be, that our experiences have taught us to be better. Sadly, though, sometimes we fail to learn, we miss the lesson, and then, we don’t like the person we become.
SHAME
After dinner, I rounded up a few guys for a job. Tank got a phone call that Donnie, a stockbroker who lived in one of the new sub-divisions, had been spotted at a country club casino. Evidently he flaunted a wad of cash. My cash. He owed the club roughly twenty K and had been laying low.
Tank rode with me. The way he kept glancing over, I could tell he wanted to ask about Maddie. He had been trying to pry information out of me for a while. In over a month since I met my sister for breakfast, I’ve kept a lid on her profession and her presence back in Southie. But this was Tank. My right-hand. My best friend and I needed to tell somebody.
“She’s undercover,” I exhaled.
His mouth opened but it took him a second to respond. “Maddie’s a cop?”
A cop wouldn’t have been so bad. I knew he would flip out, but I had already opened my mouth. “Worse . . . FBI.”
“Shit!”
“Delarosa’s her partner.”
“We’re fucked.” His fists connected with the dashboard. “I can’t believe this. How could you keep this from me?”
“They aren’t after us. Dixon’s running a sex ring, a big one. She wants the bust.”
“And obviously she wants something from you.”
I sighed loudly, knowing Tank wasn’t going to like what I had to say. “To back off Dixon’s crew.”
He shook his head. “Hell no! We have a rat to find.”
Tank stated the obvious, only clearly he didn’t understand how it would impact my sister.
“Listen, I told her if I found Cole, he was mine. She understands but it would complicate things for her. Cole grew up with Delarosa. He’s their way in.”
“Do you want to call a meeting?” he asked.
“I should, but this is Maddie and if we have a rat—”
Tank nodded understanding. “He would out her.”
“She’s my fucking sister.”
“So we wait it out.”
“You think?”
“It’s what your old man would’ve done.”
I could not agree with him. Yes, my old man would have done anything to protect Maddie, except keep things from the club. No matter what the consequences, the club always came first. I didn’t argue with Tank, because he had a soft spot for Maddie, and not only because they grew up together. For my best friend, somewhere deep down, she would always be the one who got away.
The thick smoke in the card room of the casino felt like walking through fog. With all of my vices, and I had plenty, I didn’t smoke. I hated the smell. The air made me all the more pissed with Donnie. He was a regular and usually paid on time. But, as with any addict, over time they got sloppy, pushed harder, until eventually they hit bottom. Which usually meant facing a good ass beating from one of my crew until they coughed up the money they owed me.
Ordinarily, I wouldn’t have come out for a collection, but I had been wound tight and needed to let out some frustration.
The moment our eyes met, Donnie jumped from his chair and bolted out a side door. Dozer and Tex headed back to the front to cut him off. Tank and I hurried through the door behind Donnie. He wasn’t far ahead. We chased him up the side of the building and around the front. He stopped when he saw Dozer running toward him.
I took a moment to catch my breath. Before I opened my mouth, to demand my money, his fist landed below my eye. Tank and Dozer grabbed him and held on. I circled, wiping a trail of blood that sprung loose from the cut near my eye.
“You fuckin’ swung on me. You got some kinda death wish, Donnie?”
“I’m sorry.” Donnie held his hands up. “I was scared.”
“You should be,” I said, stepping close to him.
“I don’t have your money. I swear.”
“Really?”
I nodded at Tex. He searched Donnie’s pockets while Tank and Dozer continued holding him. Sure enough, from his jacket pocket Tex pulled out a wad of cash and handed it to me.
“You were holdin’ out on me, because this looks like my. Fucking. Money.”
“No, please. That’s every dime I have. I was gonna double it and pay you. I swear.”
“Stop swearing. Your word doesn’t mean shit.” I flipped through the stack once. “I’ll be keeping this.”
“But it’s more than I owe you.”
He pleaded or downright begged, but it didn’t change anything.
“Consider it payment for making me hunt you down.”
“Come on, Shame. Don’t do this.” He definitely begged. “I’m about to lose my house.”
“Not my problem.”
Gamblers always had the same sad story. They were always on the verge of losing something; their house, wife or job. That’s why I hated going out on collections. A part of me felt sorry for people. I wanted to help them. But offering mercy would show weakness, and The Bastards couldn’t afford to be seen as forgiving. It was bad for business. We weren’t a charity. Besides, I already extended my kindness for the year on Breeze’s old man.
I put the wad of cash in the front pocket of my jeans. Tank and Dozer let go of Donnie. He dropped to his knees, wailing like a little bitch. “Please, Shame.”
“We’re done.”
“Ah, fuck. I’m gonna lose everything, man.”
His jaw felt like a block of cement as my fist connected with the side of his face. I continued until the pain numbed and blood squirted from his nose. He fell to the ground in the fetal position and I squatted next to him. “No more loans, no more bets. Don’t come around or I won’t be so forgiving.”
Despite his pleading hand in the air, I left him on the ground and the guys followed me back to the cars. On the way, I slapped Tex on the shoulder. “You did good, brother.”
“Thanks.” Tex nodded before getting into the van.
For the most part, The Bastards didn’t welcome strangers. To be in the club, you were either family, or a friend of family, but you were always Southie born and raised. Tex had been my lone exception.
He was born into a family of old ranchers out of west Texas. I found him in a bar near the cabin a couple of summers back, belligerent drunk and harassing the barkeep. He had recently arrived in New Hampshire to stay with a friend he knew from school. Apparently his loving family disowned him because he called off his wedding to a prominent Texas family’s daughter. Turned out, he preferred the chick’s brother and that was sin enough to boot him from the state. Tex’s father’s last words to him were, “Sorry, son, but it ain’t right.”
We welcomed him in and I never regretted it. The Bastards became his family. We didn’t give a fuck who Tex put his dick in as long as he followed the code. He had proved his loyalty. It would soon be official. I looked forward to his initiation a great deal.
On the ride home, Tank cranked the music, which I welcomed as I wasn’t up for chatting. I don’t know why I felt guilt and remorse. Donnie fucked up his life all on his own. He wasn’t my concern.
As I drove back to the clubhouse, I decided to avoid collection trips. They fucked with my head. I couldn’t transition from brains to muscle easily enough. My old man could no problem, but I wasn’t him. In those moments, I merely pretended to be. I didn’t want to hurt people for owing me money, no matter how effective it proved to get what I wanted. I had enough rage and desire to hurt those who had hurt me or taken something from me.
Sometimes we wander through a transitional period. We do not know exactly how we got there, or where we are headed. We become lost. This is usually because we did not choose the path we are on. We were forced there against our will for reasons we had no control over. We do not want to be there, and yet, we cannot seem to find an escape. We can never transition into who we are supposed to be, because we are stuck trying to be someone else.