Chapter Five
I didn't have my cell on me so I used the pay phone by the main entrance. Dom picked up on the second ring.
"Hello?"
"It's me."
"Where are you?"
"Where do you think? I'm still at the cop shop."
He cursed and I heard him snap his fingers. "Are you ok?"
"No." I rubbed my hand down my face. "I'm not feeling all that great."
"Rey should be there in a few minutes and he has an emergency kit with him. Go outside and wait for him."
I hung up without saying goodbye and left the station. The place was pretty big and the steps were made of white stone. There were a total of twelve and I made it to the sixth before sitting down. The world was spinning, a blur of colors like when I was younger and riding the carousel in the park. The nauseous feeling hit and I was forced to I put my head between my knees, hoping my knight in shining armor would break a few speed limits to get here.
This never happened when I was up at college. Everything was on a schedule, perfect, and now suddenly I was back here and everything was thrown off course. I felt like I was a child again, trying to grapple with having an incurable autoimmune disease and failing miserably.
The rumble of a motorcycle came from off in the distance and got louder until it stopped at the curb in front of me. The growl died as the machine was switched off and without looking, I knew who it was. Cops rarely road motorcycles let alone parked them in front of the station.
"Oranges, you ok?"
I groaned. "Do I look it?"
"Actually you have this green tint." The sound of his bike groaned as he got off and I looked up. "Yeah. Definitely green."
He opened one of the saddle bags and pulled out a red pouch. My salvation. He climbed the six steps, taking two at a time, and sat next to me after handing the pouch over. I quickly unzipped it, seeing the tools of my disease laid bare was a little disconcerting but I ignored it.
I winced when I saw the old fashioned vial and syringe instead of my usual delivery system.
"Sorry. No pen this time. Do you want to go to the bathroom?"
I pricked my finger, not wanting to tell him if I got up I was definitely going to barf. A perfect, little red drop formed above the puncture and then I let it flow into the test strip. Thirty seconds passed and the meter beeped, blinking the numbers up at me.
"Shit," I muttered. "Can you measure me out..." I tried to remember how much I needed when my sugars were this high and I hadn't eaten but it wasn't working out too well. My headache was getting worse and keeping me from doing what I needed.
Without being asked, he pulled out the calculator and typed everything in.
"What's your ratio?"
"It should already be in there. Vin makes sure they're all programmed with it." He nodded in understanding. When the dosage amount popped up he quickly took out the vial and filled the syringe to the right dosage.
"Lift up your shirt." I did as he asked and he sighed. "You don't have much fat on you, do you?"
He pinched my side, gathering up all the flab he could muster, and poked me. I hissed and shut my eyes. You forget the feeling after not having to do it for a year and I hated it. After going through rehab, I detested the feel of a needle in my skin. I was thankful when the insurance approved the pen after I finished rehab.
"You should try not getting arrested before breakfast. Oh wait, you slept through breakfast."
"Yeah, well, this trip to the police station wasn't on the agenda." I turned my head, opening my eyes to look at him. He was silently packing everything away. "How'd you learn to do that?"
"My abuela had type two before she died." He zipped up the pouch and put it on the step under his legs. "I used to find it fascinating how she handled it, like it didn't matter."
I nodded and rested my head on my knee. "My regimen was perfect up at school. I'm not even here a week and it's thrown out of wack."
"Everything will even out." He glanced at the building behind us. "They give you a hard time?"
"Nothing I haven't handled before. We should go so I can eat and they don't think we're conspiring to do bad things." He helped me to my feet, wrapping an arm around my waist since I wasn't completely steady. "Thank you, by the way. For the other night and today."
"I'm assuming you're talking about the meat head."
"That's the one." He handed me his helmet when we got to the bike. "I forgot to dress accordingly."
"Even if you had, he still would've been on you. People like him need clearly drawn boundaries. Since you were new, he didn't see any."
"And you just happened to be there to draw them? Isn't that supposed to be my brother's job?"
He looked at me over his shoulder once we were both settled on his bike. "It'll be my job soon enough. Practice makes perfect." I stared at him in surprise. He didn't say anything else, just pulled my arms tight around his waist before starting the bike. "Hold on."
I had a feeling this boy was definitely taking me for a ride.
*
When we got back to the house, I didn't expect a welcoming party. On the outside, it appeared quiet and still. But I knew on the inside, a few of the key lieutenants were gathered to hear what I had to say. The boss man would be pacing behind his desk restlessly, waiting for me to get back to tell him what the cops wanted.
I walked in the house and Dom stood up from his spot on the stairs. "Are you ok?"
I just glared at him and took the sandwich he held out to me. "My brother in his office?"
He nodded. "Yeah. He's waiting for you."
I marched up the stairs and knocked on the door, knowing full well if I just barged in I was likely to get a hand across the face. There were rules even I had to follow.
"Come in."
I opened the door and sure enough, a handful of his lieutenants littered the room. Most of them I knew since I used to rank among them. They gave head nods and subtle uplifting of brows in acknowledgement.
"Wait outside," my brother commanded.
Many of them filed out, a few of the ones I used to be close with touched my arm with an accompanying, "Welcome back, Ari." I just smiled and nodded, not saying anything out loud. Once the door was closed and both Dom and Rey were standing by the door, did my brother acknowledge me.
"Have a seat."
I sat, slumped down with my head resting against my closed fist. We stared at each other for a bit until I started picking at the tight stitching of his leather chair. He hated when I did that but I wasn't quite sure what to say so I let him lead.
"What'd they ask?"
"The usual. Showed me photos and asked me questions I wouldn't answer." I paused and put the sandwich on his desk untouched. "Why didn't you tell me about Ford?"
His eyes ticked to Dom and then back to me. "What do you mean?"
"They showed me his picture."
"You knew he was dead."
I nodded. "But not how."
"You didn't need to know how."
I stayed quiet knowing this could go bad. My brother didn't mess around when it came to his business. My next words were said carefully, knowing he was a ticking time bomb and even though he'd never lay a hand on me, he could make my life a living hell for the rest of the summer.
"You should've told me anyway."
"Why?"
"Because." I looked up at him, meeting a muddier version of my green eyes. "Only so many people get one shot to the head and another in the balls, Vin. Since I know Chelle didn't have anything to do with him, I know it was about me. And I have a right to know if you did something in my name."
He twirled his pen around his fingers. Normally he did it with a knife but since I was sitting on the other side of his desk, he wanted to appear less threatening. He told me once he never wanted me to fear him. Respect him yes but never fear. Everyone else could piss their pants but if it was me, he said he'd done his job wrong.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
I narrowed my eyes at him, furious he was going to play dumb with me, and unfolded the Xeroxed copy the detective had handed me before I left. I slammed it down on the desk in front of him, making the two guys behind me jump a little along with the sandwich.
"Then let me refresh your memory." I pointed down at it. "One in the head." I pointed to the other part of the picture. "One in the privates." I shoved it across the desk but he didn't even look down, just continued to stare at me. "The time before was for a guy who got too touchy feely and the one before was Michelle's creepy uncle. Is any of this registering with you?"
He stood up from his chair slowly, finally glancing down at the picture before flipping it over. "He left you in that warehouse, overdosing and bleeding out, all because he didn't want to get arrested. When you woke up in the hospital, you couldn't even remember your own name or certain other things." He slammed his fist down on the desk. "What may or may not have happened to Ford was none of your damn business."
"It is when the cops start flashing pictures in my face days after I get home. You could've slit his throat, busted his knee caps, shot him in the back, and I wouldn't have cared. But instead that happened! I know what it means, you know what it means. Hell, even Dom knows what that means. It wasn't a case of disrespect..."
"The fuck it wasn't!" he yelled at me. "What he did was disrespectful to me and to you. And, yes, it got you clean but it very well could've gone in the opposite fucking direction." His voice lowered so neither of the goons surrounding the door could hear him. "That doctor he paid butchered you and injected you with a hella lot more drugs than he should have. If there hadn't been a planned police raid on that warehouse, you would've bleed out before you got a chance to finish od'ing. What I did was justified."
I didn't freak out when someone mentioned what Ford did anymore. Yes, I still had an emotional reaction. Yes, it still made me sad but I worked through it in rehab. I grieved and I moved on. It was the best possible outcome for what happened.
"The rules say no personal killings, Vince. You crossed the line."
"How do you know I did it?"
"Because I can spot your bullet holes a mile away. That has you written all over it!"
"It's none of your business!"
"You made it my business when you made it personal." I sighed and looked down at the desk, not really having the energy to be fighting with him. "Vin, you promised me you'd leave it alone."
He came out from behind his desk and gripped the top of my arms. "Niña, look at me." I looked up but not at his face. I stared at the collar tattoo, the cursive letters of 'Brothers 4 Life' disappearing under the shoulder straps of his wife beater.
"Hey," his voice dropped down so no one else could hear him. His hands slipped up my neck, his thumbs pressed under my jaw. "Look. At. Me."
I finally met his eyes, the specific sparkle only I could bring out in his eyes glowed at me. "It was my niece or nephew they murdered. You know I would do anything for you. Ford—doesn't matter anymore. He's gone and you're healthy. That's what matters."
"You could've sent this briar patch tumbling to the ground."
He sighed. "As you can see that didn't happen. The Thorns are stronger than ever and you, Elina, you're stronger too. It was the right thing to do."
"I don't think his mother agrees. Or his brother."
"She's being looked after and is perfectly fine. As for his brother, I could care less. Ford was a thorn in my side and I got rid of him, just like I'd do to anyone else. But you, if you'd died, you can count your petals that his fate would've been far worse. What happened to him was a mercy."
"You shot his pecker off, Vin. That's not merciful."
He chuckled. "It's not like he was Muslim. He wasn't going to need it where he was going."
"Says you."
"Yes, says me."
"You just can't let me get the last word, can you?"
"Nope."
"Punk."
"Pain."
"Gangster."
"Wannabe."
"Overprotective bastard."
"Stupid."
"Vincent."
"Arrietty.
"Don't call me that."
"Go away."
"Fine."
He kissed me on the cheek before he shoved me towards the door.
"Don't make me hurt you."
"What are you gonna do? Huh?"
"I'll shoot you in the ass, just like I did with your bb gun when I was three."
"And that's the perfect reason why girls shouldn't handle guns."
"At least she had good aim," Dom muttered.
"What'd you say?" my brother snapped, going back into hard ass mode. "I know you just didn't say what I think you did."
"I'll let you guys sort that out. There's a bed calling my name."
"Take a shower and eat first," Vince said. "You smell like oranges."
"Why is everyone telling me that? I do not smell like citrus fruit!"
"Smells more like nail polish to me," Dom commented.
"Whatever!"
I opened the door, catching the brief uplift of Rey's lips as I left.