23. Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Three

Aleko

S o…Steve’s dead. Has been for almost three weeks now.

Because Spencer walked in on his boyfriend being murdered, he got smacked upside the head with the butt end of a gun. That’s how he ended up on our doorstep at Christmas, looking like death itself.

With their apartment still yellow taped off from the pending criminal investigation, he’s been staying with us. Or should I say…they?

That’s right, Spencer inherited a cat. We all love Pepper—and by “we” I do not include Ninja, who has decided to be a diva—with his big eyes and slow, “don’t fucking rush me” pace of life. To be fair, he’s old as fuck.

I like Spencer, and I’m enjoying the lazy-as-fuck cat, but Steve? Nah. Don’t really care. Don’t get me wrong, I get it. Spencer is torn up, he was his boyfriend after all, but let’s not forget my first meeting with the guy where he had a fucking scalpel to my supposedly dead girlfriend. In those kinds of moments, the logical part of the brain is completely checked out. I know he didn’t and wasn’t going to hurt her, but Steve will forever be associated with that first second I saw her pale, cold, body on a slab of stainless steel.

Fucking fiction is what it is. At least he only got the butt of a pistol to the temple and passed out for a few minutes, but it was long enough for the guy to bolt. Definitely traumatic.

“Look, all I’m saying is that something’s not adding up.” We’re playing pool in the rec room, two on two, with Bear and me against Bash and Crow. Spencer is sitting at the bar with Pepper sleeping on his lap, explaining his theories about what happened. “I’m not denying that Steve was using, I found a couple of smiley bags in his coat pockets, but he wasn’t a criminal.”

Looking over my shoulder I raise my brow and stare at my wife’s best friend.

“Okay, technically, he was but you know what I mean.” If Spence could roll his eyes any further, he’d be taking off into flight.

“You mean…like us?” Bear’s question is so matter of fact that Spencer answers on reflex.

“Yes.” Four pairs of eyes are now on him. “No. I mean…you’re different.” He’s not wrong but we still like to give him shit.

“‘Cause we’re hot as fuck, right?” Crow pipes up, egging him on.

“Well, there is that.” I don’t miss his gaze as it darts over to Grinder feeding carrot sticks to Ninja the pouter.

“What’s up, bitches!” Sledge trots in, jumps over the bar, and grabs a beer from the cooler.

“I take offense to that.” We all side-eye Spence but I go one step further and throw the blue chalk, hitting him square in the chest.

“Nope, we don’t do that here, mate. This is an offense-free zone, you either suck it up or walk right out.” Pepper wakes up, stands on Spencer’s thighs, then jumps on the bar, probably in search of a quiet place to sleep his life away.

“Fine. I’m not offended but I probably should be.”

“So what’s the theory on Steve?” Sledge takes a long sip from his beer and watches as Bear cues up and calls the twelve in the middle pocket.

“Look, he worked at the morgue, right? Bodies were going missing all the time. Then he starts using drugs? Like…why?”

“Why does anyone start using drugs? It’s an addiction.” Bash shrugs then walks up to where Spencer is sitting at the bar and picks up the chalk I threw.

“Yeah, but he was fine until he wasn’t.”

“So, let’s say someone set him up. Your goal is to what?” My question is met with nods around the pool table as they give their attention to Spence for an answer, but his shoulders fall and his sigh is heavy.

“I don’t know. That’s the problem. I just want the police to do their job and find this guy. I mean, I get it, they’re overworked and have a backlog of cases, but look, I’ve been here three weeks and my apartment is still off limits.” He’s not wrong, it feels like an exceptionally long time to keep the yellow tape up. “Not that I want to go back there with everything that happened.”

“Goddammit!” Bash sinks the cue ball and Bear rubs his hands together as he circles the table to choose his next ball.

“Hey, Aleko, would you mind going around and maybe asking questions?” I almost choke on my beer.

“Who am I interrogating in this scenario?” Bear sinks the nine and grins at Bash while I try to understand how, exactly, I could help Spencer.

“I don’t know. Drug dealers, maybe? Someone, somewhere, knows something. You see it on television all the time.” I’d be tempted to say this is real life but he may have a point. We know for a fact that people are more willing to talk to us than the police, so it’s entirely possible for me to get some information out there.

“Bear, whaddaya think? You wanna go for a ride on the wrong side of the tracks?” Bear and Bash both chuckle just as Shade walks into the rec room looking rough.

“We are the wrong side of the tracks…supposedly.” Fist bumping my best friend because truer words are rarely spoken, I nod to Shade as he calls out a, “What’s up,” to the room.

“Hey, Shade, man. Wanna get out of here for a while?” He doesn’t say no right away, which tells me he’s considering the offer. Ever since Prez’s death, he’s been the pillar in Vanessa’s life. I’m pretty sure she hangs on to him and counts on him because he was closest to her husband. It’s one thing to lose the love of your life, it’s a completely different case altogether when he’s executed right in front of you as you sit on his lap. That trauma will never leave her, and according to Shade, and everyone who lives within hearing distance of her suite, the nightmares won’t leave her either.

“Yeah, Vanessa just took a sleeping pill, it should knock her out for a little bit. By the time she’s up, Darlene and Sabrina will be there to keep her company. Riding is exactly what I need to do.” Shade grabs an energy drink and downs it like it’s water.

“That shite’ll kill you, mate.” There’s zero humor in Sledge’s tone.

“Not if lack of sleep kills me first.”

Fuck, I didn’t realize it was that bad. Then again, those dark circles around his eyes should have alerted us a while ago.

“You can’t take care of Vanessa if you’re barely able to take care of yourself.” I lower my voice when I speak. I’m not sure how he feels about all of this or if he wants everyone to know he’s struggling. Not only is he being an immovable rock for his best friend’s wife, but he has to deal with his own grief at losing Prez.

“She’s talking about selling their house and building a cottage on the property out back. I think her nightmares will slow down by the time it’s built but I get it, his presence is everywhere.” Right now, Shade is sleeping on a cot in Prez and Vanessa’s suite, probably to make sure she doesn't do anything dangerous. And by dangerous, I mean self-harm.

“No worries, man. We’ll all help with that. Except for the plumbing. I don’t think any of us knows how to do that shit.” Fucking literally.

“I just need to get some air, you know?” Shade blows out a long breath and it looks like he’s been holding it for months.

“Well, I guess there’s no time like the present. Who’s comin’ on a ride along?” I don’t expect a lot of people to volunteer with the weather being a bit sketchy, so I’m not surprised when only Bear joins Shade and me.

“Fuck it,” I hear Bear grumble as he drops the cue sticks on the table and slaps Bash and Crow on the shoulders as he walks past. “I’m tired of winning all the time, anyway.”

We’re about to head upstairs to change into leathers when Sledge gets our attention.

“Hey, guys? What the actual fuck is happening?”

I follow Sledge’s line of sight and the scene before us hits me like a cold shower.

“Oh, fuck!” Bear is the first to react because I just can’t. The consequences of what we’re seeing are running through my head and the only person I can actually blame for this dangerous situation is my wife.

“Yeah! Get it! That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” Ignoring Grinder—his comments aren’t helpful in the least—I head to the couch, but by the time I get to him, Bandit is already running away while Ninja starts cleaning himself up.

“Well, that’s not gonna end well for us,” Shade pipes in as he lets Bandit crawl up his leg and into the crook of his neck. “So, does this mean they’re gay or we’re gonna have a hundred fucking pups in the compound?”

“Ninja was neutered, no chance of babies, thank fuck. But I may need to take a short trip to the vet.”

Shade, Bear, and I ride around town for about an hour as we casually seek out drug dealers on the streets. It’s not as easy as the news likes to make it seem. Dealers aren’t fucking stupid, hanging out on the corners with a sign that says “Buy one dime, get one free.”

That being said, we know people. We recognize those who have sold us weed or coke—Grinder likes to dip his nose in the powder once in a while—in the past. The last couple of years, Crow has been growing in the back of our property, going as far as filing for a medical marijuana card because of post traumatic stress disorder.

He’s not supposed to have more than six plants but…yeah, like Spencer said, we’re criminals.

“Look!” Shade nods to Millie, who waves at us when she hears and sees our bikes. She’s taller and looks stronger, probably from playing softball every year. We first met her years back when she was barely a teen and Prez got her into Maribel’s home. There, she could have a safe space instead of hanging out on the streets while her mother worked three jobs for food and all the things Millie and her brother needed for school. Now she’s graduating and got early admission with a full scholarship to East Carolina University for nursing. Her mom told us at the funeral when she came to present her condolences. It’s the only time we saw a hint of light in Vanessa’s eyes.

Parking the bikes in a V formation, back tires against the curb, we rush to Millie so we can all hug her in turn.

“Look at you all grown up and looking more adult than we are.” Speaking with clear awe in his voice, Shade gives Millie a tight hug and nods at the clear example she is for teen girls everywhere. He and Prez made sure she was getting her work done while Vanessa gave her math lessons twice a week in middle school.

“Y’all are gettin’ old! Is that gray hair, Shade?” She’s teasing, of course. No fucking way we’ve got gray hair any fucking where. Until I look at Shade and, no shit…right there on his sideburns, there’s a sprinkling of white. Well, damn.

“It goes hand in hand with becoming wise.” Shade smirks, although he’s not far from the truth. Of all of us, he and Hoops are the only two sane enough to lead. Sledge may be VP but he’s got the impulse gene that, more often than not, could probably get us into trouble.

“Boy, please. Wisdom ain’t got nottin’ to do with age. It’s about experience.” Millie rolls her eyes and crosses her arms like we’ve personally offended her, but then she grins and we all laugh with her. “But, straight up, Shade, I’m sorry about Griffin. I cried for weeks when I heard. Momma, too.”

“Thanks, sweetie. We’re dealing as we go.” Shade’s tone drops a little as the sadness fills his voice.

“How’s Vanessa doin’? I’ve been meanin’ to come by but I don’t wanna bother her, ya know? Momma said she’d make Vanessa’s favorite dish but I told her we should wait.” As Millie speaks, I watch Shade, who takes in a deep breath before letting it out, like he’s trying to push down his feelings so he can answer her without bawling.

“She’s, ah…she’s hanging in there. You know, good days and bad days.” Ain’t that the truth, Brother is the only thought going through my mind at Shade’s answer.

“Yeah, I get it. So, what are y’all doin’ ridin’ around our neighborhood? Kinda far out from the psych house, isn’t it?” Millie looks at the three of us, expecting an answer, but fuck, we don’t want to say we’re looking for drug dealers, and more importantly, drug dealers willing to kill.

“Shade here needed to get some fresh air.” Bear and Shade both look at me like I’m speaking a foreign language as Millie quirks up the corner of her mouth, knowing damn well that’s not the whole story. Smart girl.

“Look, Millie, we’ve got a friend in town who just lost his partner after a…” Bear is trying to find less traumatic words but I’m sorry, Millie has been living with truth her entire life, this isn’t going to shock her.

“Steve was killed in his own home and we’re trying to figure out what the hell’s happening.”

Millie bursts out laughing while I ignore the withering glares from my brothers on either side of me. Jeesh, it’s not like she doesn’t have the Internet.

“Well, I don’t know anything about that, but you know who might?” Millie gives us a dramatic pause and I just know…

Please don’t say Fish. Please don’t say Fish. Please don’t say—

“Fish is running the streets on the few blocks here. If it happened on his watch, he’d probably know something.” I groan, loudly, at Millie’s words while Bear and Shade curse under their breaths. “Oh, y’all still not on speaking terms?”

“How the f—how do you know about that?” I’m practicing not saying fuck so often for when Baby Psycho arrives.

“Pfft, you kiddin’? Even my grandaddy knows and he’s half blind and completely deaf.” Okay then.

“Aleko here has a gold medal and world record for holding grudges.” Shade is throwing…well, shade and I don’t like it.

“He stole my bike.” How are they not supportive of me?

“He borrowed your bike after you let him take it for a ride.” Bear’s tone is so calm and logical I want to throat punch him.

“Then he destroyed it on the asphalt. She was unrecognizable!” I remember Philia was all scratched up, it took me—

“He put a scratch on it and we covered that shit up within minutes back at the garage.” If Bear doesn't shut his mouth, I’m going to kick his bike and see how he likes that.

“He never apologized.” Now I’ve got them, because Fish never fucking said sorry for scratching up my girl. Granted, this was way before I met Mackenzie and my bike was the only true love in my life. “But I can be the better man for a good cause.” After I head butt him. Then we can have a conversation.

“Well, I’ll let you get to it, then. I’ve got homework to do.” Milie starts to leave when I interrupt her retreat.

“Hey, Mills?”

“Yeah?”

“Fuc—freaking proud of you.” Bear and Shade hum in agreement and the grin that graces her face is like a light in a long ass tunnel.

“Thanks, y’all.”

As we round the corner of the block, we spot Fish sitting on an old couch like a king overlooking his castle. Again, we park our bikes, back tires first, and turn off the engine.

“Be nice.” Bear’s tone is fucking annoying but I just want to get information then blow this joint.

“Fine.”

“Well, well, well. Whatta we got here, boys?” Oh, this motherfucker.

“‘Sup, Fish? How ya doin’?” Bear is the first to speak, clasping hands with Fish as they give each other a half hug with a slap on the back.

At Bear’s question, Fish looks around like he’s proud of his accomplishments. I mean, he did get a promotion so…there’s that.

“I’m good, bruh, just doin’ my thing.” I bet he’s doing his thing. Probably stealing bikes so he can go for a joyride before fucking them up. “Sorry about Prez, man. That’s jacked. But I heard about the Beaufort House gettin’ shot up, so I guess Karma was in the neighborhood, right?” We all shrug like we don’t know what happened. “Shade, how you doin’, man?” Again with the clasped hands and pat pats on the back. When his gaze turns to me, silence falls on the corner of Timber and First.

“You remember, Psycho, right?” Bear is trying to be diplomatic. Fish knows who the fuck I am.

“Do I remem—dude tried to bite my ear off. Of course I remember his psychotic ass.” Oh yeah, I forgot about that. I’m glad I didn’t, the fuck knows what drugs he’s got in his system.

“Look, we just wanted to ask about a murder downtown, see if you heard anything, word of mouth?” Shade gets down to business because it’s getting late and the January cold is bitter at night fall.

“The morgue guy?” Fish frowns like he’s thinking and going through a list of murders he’d have information about.

“Yeah, that one.” Bear’s tone is hopeful. The sooner he talks, the sooner we’re back at the compound.

Then the light goes on.

“Oh, yeah, yeah. We talked about that shit the other night. But it ain’t nobody from here. If y’all want answers, you should be talking to the Rockford Beach Fire Department.” We all stare at Fish like he’s grown a fucking duck face and he’s speaking Croatian.

“Why the fuck would we be talking to the fire department?” Bear’s question is tentative, and to be honest, I’m pretty sure none of us wants to hear the fucking answer.

“‘Cause your killer is a white boy over there who’s got his fingers in many, many, dangerous pies.”