Page 20 of Tortured Souls
“There’s pretty boy. Welcome to the fucking party. Nice of you to show up on time,” Finn welcomes our friend, who looks even more pissed off than Saint. What the hell has gotten into these guys?
“What’s got you in a sour mood?” Brooks asks him as he leans his back against the fridge, crossing his arms as if pouting like a toddler.
“Don’t want to talk about it.” That’s all he says, and we don’t push him any further. I catch Finn elbowing Brooks and whispering one word to him.
“Ophelia.”
“I’m sorry, what was that, prick?” Owen asks, pushing off the fridge and taking a step towards the island.
“Enough,” I announce to the room, my anger starting to rise at this fucking bickering I can never seem to escape. The room goes quiet for a moment, the steam of all the testosterone filling the room at a rapid speed.
“Right, we don’t have another shipment of metal coming for quite a while, so we have some time to fuck around a bit.” My father, before his death, began dipping into the industry of weapons running, or “metal,” as I like to call it. “Apart from the jobs you all have scheduled at the shop, I want you to take this time to lie low, enjoy a break. I know for some of us, it’s hard to sit.” I look at Finn, who is flipping open his lighter and closing it in quick succession, not even paying attention to what I’m saying—typical Finn.
“Finn, I’m talking about you,” I groan out.
“Yeah, yeah, I heard you. I have fights the next few weeks anyway. I’ll be plenty busy.” His smile is mischievous and full of trouble.
“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Brooks whispers to me. Thank fuck for Brooks. He’s probably the only man that’s able to keep our psycho in line apart from his father.
“Other than not getting in trouble, that’s all I have for the next two, let’s say three, weeks.” The five of us relax a little bit more in unison. My crew and I have been busier than most years with the increased need for metal and other jobs within the club, and I can tell my guys are run down. Apart from Finn—he’s like the fucking Energizer Bunny. Always on full fucking charge.
“Hell yeah! Who’s coming to see me pummel some poor pathetic excuse of a man tomorrow?” Finn stretches his arms out wide, the excitement clear on his face about his upcoming fight.
“Are the girls coming?” Saint asks the room.
“Yeah, I heard Bristol talking with Frieda earlier this week, and they all plan to be there. I guess they’re getting drinks prior to the fights.” Brooks’ statement has my eyes going to my phone. Quickly opening my favorite app, I click the full screen button and see Sky has just emerged from the shower. Steam billowing into her room from the bathroom, a small towel wrapped tightly around her perfect little frame. The guys have continued talking, but I don’t hear them. I watch as she drops her towel and rummages through her dresser, picking out an outfit, piece by piece.
“I’m bringing Skylar,” I announce to the room, my mind quickly registering that I just said that to the room instead of in my head. I look at Saint, who nods his head once in approval. He’s not stupid. He saw this coming.
“Right, full house!” Finn yells. The guys all groan at his loud outburst. I look back at my phone. Sky is fully dressed now and ready for her day. I close out of the app and stand from my stool.
“Let’s head to the garage,” I say, needing to tell the rest of the club the plans for the next few weeks, but mostly, I need to pay a visit to my favorite little killer this evening. I need to make sure she’s not working tomorrow, because tomorrow, she’s mine. You know what they say, keep your friends close and your enemies closer.
SKYLAR
The past few days, I’ve been in a weird headspace that’s left me feeling more numb than normal. I needed something to change that, so I called Mack and asked him if he wanted to go to breakfast this morning. Thankfully, he agreed, and I couldn’t be happier. Mack is my safe space. My safe human, and the only person who can help me crawl out of this deep hole of nothingness.
“My girl! How’ve you been, beautiful?” Mack hugs me so tightly I instantly inflate with a sense of happiness that I needdesperately. This old man has saved me more than once and has never even realized it.
“I’m doing good, Mack. How about you?” I say into his chest. He loosens his arms around me as he pushes me back just a bit to get a good look at my face. His eyebrows pinch together, his expression changing to worry.
“I know that tone. Let’s go inside and talk about it.” Mack never misses a beat. We’re at my favorite little café in town called Green’s, and we head straight to the table by the window. We settle in, the pair of us ordering coffees to start off.
“Alright, my dear, spill it. Who do I need to take care of for hurting my girl?” he whispers the last bit, making me smile. If only he knew the man in question was already taken care of. I’m pretty sure Mack couldn’t hurt a fly, but it makes me feel like I’m actually his daughter and he’s my overprotective father when he talks like this.
“I assure you, Mack. He’s been dealt with already.” The waitress delivers our coffees and takes our orders before she leaves us once again.
“Alright then, what’s got you looking like someone stole your puppy?” he asks, his tone full of genuine curiosity and concern. I take a sip of my coffee before I answer him, because I don’t really have an answer. I shouldn’t be feeling like this—down and blah. Damien is dead, and I should be reveling in the satisfaction that such an evil man is finally gone. However, I still feel heavy in a sense, as if I’m being held down by something I can’t pinpoint. Trauma maybe? Definitely trauma, but I know I’ll always have that trauma. I honestly thought it would disappear at least a little once Damien was dead.
“I guess I’m just feeling sort of?—”
“Lonely?” Mack interrupts me, shocking me with his statement. Lonely? I flip through my Rolodex of emotions that are harbored deep within the confines of my soul, and when Ifinally land on loneliness, the cobwebs and dust give way to the truth of his statement.
“I mean, I don’t really know?” I say honestly. I guess, in a way, I’ve always been lonely, but that emotion has been constant for me, especially since Seven was murdered. Why does this feel different now?
“When was the last time you went on a date? Or went out with friends? And I don’t mean seeing your friends while you’re at work. I mean, actually going out and having a good time with people your age?” I don’t have an answer because I don’t really know the answer. I try hard to remember the last time I hung out with people for a good time, and not the other night with Saxon, Saint, and Damien. I can’t remember. I don’t even recall when my last date was. How sad is that?
Mack holds both my hands across the table.