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Chapter Twenty-Two

“I told you to check in with your parole officer, you dumb bitch! You can’t keep avoiding his texts and phone calls.”

Grizz was standing over a cowering Lana as he was looking at something on her phone.

“He only texted me once.”

I tried to keep up with the conversation, but I was coming in and out of consciousness. I could feel the blood oozing out of my side. Plus, my head was pounding like the damn bongos from that stupid band that Zoe had dragged me to that one time.

Zoe. Focus on Zoe. Remember that barely there dress she was wearing and how she started a brawl that night?

Stay the fuck awake!

I watched as Grizz back-handed Lana and she fell to the floor. “Just how stupid do you think I am? This is the fourth time he’s texted you in twelve hours! Something's up, and we don’t need your shit stinking up our business. Call him back!”

Lana got up off the floor and grabbed Grizz’s arm. “I don’t care about him. If you’d just let me stay at the Blood Ravens compound with you, it wouldn’t matter if I didn’t check in.”

I watched as Grizz shoved Lana away from him and she landed on the floor. “Fine. You want to stay at the compound? Then we put you to work with the other whores. Is that what you want? But you’d probably be too stupid to even be any good. Why? Because you can’t fucking check in with your parole officer! Text him back, Lana!”

Grizz threw her phone at her head. It bounced off it onto the cement floor. She started to cry. Then he turned to me. “And you! Get up off the floor. Bishop and I want some dinner. Since Lana is busy sniveling, you need to cook for us.”

Shit, I didn’t even know if I could make it up off the floor, let alone walk. And he wanted me to cook? This was not going to be good.

He stomped over to me and grabbed my ponytail.

“Wait! I’ll get up. I promise. Don’t hurt me. I’ll get up and cook. My side is bleeding. It’s just going to take a minute.”

“Jesus Christ, another snatch with fucking excuses. You have three minutes to get into the kitchen and start cooking. You better give us something good, otherwise we’ll take something else from you. You understand me?”

I looked up into his glittering eyes, and I understood exactly what he meant.

“I understand.”

“Good.”

Please say my text got through.

He turned to leave, but he took the time to prod Lana with the toe of his boot. “After you send the text, Bishop has a hankering for you in the living room. Get your ass up and wipe the snot off your face. You hear me?”

Lana sat up and nodded. She used the bottom of her tank top to wipe her nose, exposing her breasts. I swallowed back the bile that was rising up.

When Grizz left, she looked over at me with wounded eyes. “Why won’t he take me to live at the compound?”

“You want to be a prostitute?” I couldn’t believe my ears.

“I love him,” she whispered.

God save me.

“Lana, text your parole officer and tell him where we are. Tell him we need help.”

In an instant, her expression changed to maniacal rage. “You fucking cunt! I would never rat out my man. I hope they do fuck you over. I hope they kill you!” She shoved to her feet, and I watched as she furiously texted. Then she went to the door and yelled in a sing-song voice, “Bishop, honey. I’m coming.”

I had to be losing my mind. None of this could be real. I sat up and touched my side.

“Owww,” I moaned. My fingers came away sticky with fresh blood. I grabbed at the work bench and pulled myself up into a standing position, then left the workroom for the first time. Every step was agony.

“Well, there she is, Miss America,” Grizz laughed.

The living room, dining room, and kitchen were all one long room, separated by a kitchen counter. Grizz and Bishop were sitting on the couch, side by side, watching television. Lana was kneeling between Bishop’s knees, doing something I didn’t want to even think about.

I averted my eyes.

“Oh, are you modest?” Grizz laughed.

I ignored him and went into the kitchen and opened the fridge. In one of the chiller drawers, I found some ground beef, but underneath that were rib-eye steaks. Even better. How could they bitch about steaks?

Somebody turned up the TV, blotting out all the other sounds coming from the living room, and I could have wept with relief. I pulled out the steaks and looked around some more. Eventually I found a box of mashed potato mix, butter, some bread and Cheez Whiz. All the makings for a motorcycle gang feast as far as I was concerned.

“What’s taking you so long?” Grizz roared from the living room.

“I’m making you steaks. I want to get them right.” I kept my eyes on the stove, which faced away from the living room. “How do you like yours cooked?” I yelled back.

“I can’t hear you,” he yelled at me.

“How do you like your steak cooked?” I screamed.

“Turn around.”

Asshole!

I turned around and pain shot through my side. I hissed.

Lana was still at it.

“Excuse me, sirs. How do you like your steaks cooked, sirs?”

Bishop and Grizz burst out laughing.

“How do you like that? She called us sir.” Grizz howled.

“I like mine medium rare,” Bishop said.

“I like mine burned,” Grizz answered.

“Okay. Dinner will be up in fifteen minutes.”

They continued to laugh as I turned back to the stove. I carefully crouched down to find a skillet, a pot to mix the potatoes and a broiling pan. I figured I could toast the bread and melt the Cheez Whiz on it, kind of like the garlic bread that Beau had made for me.

Beau.

Just the thought of him and that night had me on my ass in front of the cabinets as I covered my mouth.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

I wanted Beau. I wanted him right now. I couldn’t stand the pain, and I couldn’t stand one more second of this horror show.

“Bitch, where are you?” Grizz hollered.

I pulled out the skillet and the pot and stood up. I held them over my head. “Got them.”

“Stay where I can see you,” he hollered again.

I nodded. I wiped the tears off my face, then went to the sink and filled the pot with some water. It looked about right. I put the skillet and the pot on the electric stove and watched them heat up. Soon the water was boiling, and I stirred in the potato flakes. The pain was a constant burn.

I listened to some kind of ultimate fighting cage match blaring from the front room, praying it would continue for hours and hours.

I didn’t even bother to rinse off the steaks when I took them out of the packaging. Maybe they would get sick. Maybe I should spit on them. Maybe I should wipe them in my blood. I threw them into the skillet and watched them sizzle in the butter.

I’d already turned on the oven and set it to broil, so I got the bread and put it under so that it could toast the bread a little before I melted the cheese. I’d found some garlic powder that looked like it had been purchased when the house had been built. Again, I hoped it would kill these motherfuckers.

I turned Bishop’s steak and left Grizz’s on to burn. I opened the fridge and found beer and ketchup. Something told me that Grizz would like ketchup to go with his steak. I threw butter into the potatoes.

“What’s taking you so long?” Bishop hollered.

Why was he yelling?

I turned around without thinking.

Iccckkk!

Lana was now kneeling between Grizz’s legs.

I needed bleach for my eyes.

“Yours is ready. I’m still burning Grizz’s steak,” I hollered back.

“Bring it to me,” Bishop commanded.

God no! Come on. I buy girl scout cookies. I donate to the food bank. No! Shit, I’d known I was in trouble for never returning that library book. Now, this was my punishment.

I plated Bishop’s food. Grabbed utensils, beer, and everything else I could think of because I only wanted to make one fucking trip. I walked around the counter and kept my eyes down. I concentrated on the sounds coming from the TV.

The crowd is electric.

Did you see that?

Both fighters are taking a beating.

He’s got a good chin, he’s taking those hits like a champ.

“Move it, bitch. I’m hungry,” Bishop growled.

I set the food on the coffee table to the left of Bishop. I’d successfully not looked at anyone on the couch.

“Hey, this looks good.”

“I’m glad you like it,” I mumbled.

I turned around and almost fell from the pain, but caught myself. I scurried back to the kitchen as fast as I could.

I looked in the skillet, and Grizz’s steak was definitely looking burned. I plated his food and waited for him to holler.

I felt like I was going to fall over. I gripped the edge of the counter in front of the sink, careful not to look out of the corner of my eye into the living room. Instead, I concentrated on the trees outside the kitchen window.

I probably should’ve eaten something to keep up my strength, but I would just throw up.

Drink water.

It was Trenda’s voice bossing me around.

I went to the fridge to see if there were any more bottles of water, but there weren’t. I grabbed a glass from the cupboard and examined it to see if it was clean. It looked clean, but I washed it anyway. My head jerked up when I heard a noise against the window.

I looked. It was weird, but it looked like there was a head. I squinted.

It is a head!

I looked over at the living room. Damn, Lana still wasn’t done. There were windows above the couch. The curtains weren’t closed. I looked back at the head in the kitchen window.

Oh thank you Jesus, it’s Beau!

He was pointing toward the ground.

I immediately dropped down to the kitchen floor.