Solomons Finest Old Rum

There weren’t any pictures of the accident, but the description was vivid enough. 

“We’ll send it.” Brucie wrote something down in his notebook. “Doubt the family will want us there anyway.”

Johnny answered with a shrug, then lit another cigarette.

“What about the bike?” he asked.

“The bike?”

“Nice bike it was. A racer. Shame for it to be stuck in a barn or somethin’.” Johnny coughed a bit and pointed to the newspaper, then took another sip of his drink.

Brucie sighed at the very suggestion of asking the grieving family a thing like that, but finally he just nodded.

“I’ll try and find out.”

Turned out, finding out was not as much of a chore as it was a weird fucking encounter. First, Benny came by the bar and sat down with Johnny, wordlessly staring at the newspaper. The front page was still there in all its gorey glory.

Eddie and Benny used to ride together sometimes. They often made a bet with each other, then led the police on a wild goose chase just for laughs. 

“The bike,” Johnny said to Benny, then tapped the front page. “Know what happened to it?”

Benny, fond of his long pauses, looked down and lit a cigarette. Finally, Johnny raised his brows in annoyance and Brucie perked up his ears to hear the story.

“They lived on that apple farm outside of I24. Eddie and his family.”

Benny often gave up information reluctantly, as if keeping it inside his skull helped to keep him sane.

“They sell apples?” Johnny asked.

“His old man used to make cider, too.” Benny looked to the side pensively. “Fuck.”

“What?”

“Still got a bottle stashed somewhere. We should drink it. You know, for Eddie.”

Johnny frowned some more, then just decided to accept the information at face value.

“I’ll go there tomorrow,” Brucie offered, but Johnny shook his head and that was that.

“If you thinkin’ of makin’ an offer, I’d hurry.” Benny took a long drag on his cigarette, then flicked the ash off with his thumb.

“Yeah? Why is that?” Johnny asked.

“His sister rides.”

“Bikes? His sister?” Brucie chuckled, then immediately stopped when Gail shot him an angry look.

“No. Horses.”

Brucie looked at Benny then like he tended to do quite often. A space oddity, that kid. But whether he was pensive or sad, Brucie decided to let him be. Eddie was his friend after all.

“I’ll go there end of the week,” Johnny said. “Offer a good price.”

“Why do you care so much anyway? Your bike’s good.” Benny asked the question nobody dared to up to this point. Johnny never got mad at Benny, though, so Brucie stayed put. Truth be told, he was curious himself.

“Because,” Johnny said. “It’s a good racin’ piece, that thing. I’ve seen you two racin’ way too many times.”

“Yeah, but Eddie always lost,” Benny smirked.

“Not when he didn’t let you win.”

Johnny smirked at Benny and that was as good as saying he still loved him despite Benny being a walking accident. So Benny left it at that and finished his coffee.

The farm was quite far away on the outskirts of Chicago. Johnny had to stop for gas on a remote station where every farmer and hillbilly in sight immediately let him know he wasn’t welcome. Johnny opted to ignore them.

He parked his bike by the front gate of the farm and took a look around. Immediately fed up with good countryside air, he lit a cigarette and squinted at all that sunlight. Feeling like a villain in a western, Johnny let himself in and walked the path leading to the barn. Right away he heard horses neighing, then someone shouting in the distance. Johnny turned that way and saw a woman riding a horse. She wasn’t only riding it, more like galloping straight at him. 

He realised it was him she was yelling at then; her fiery red hair a halo around her angry face. Johnny stood there, a little transfixed, his better judgment kicking in only when he realised she wasn’t going to stop the horse. He jumped out of the way at the very last moment, groaning as his side met the thorns of the nearby rose bushes.

The woman stopped the horse abruptly, all the roadside dust blowing up around them and obscuring Johnny’s vision. He coughed and tried to get up, already losing his patience.

But then he saw that angry five foot nothing marching towards him, all that red hair billowing behind her and a sawed off shotgun firmly gripped in her left hand. Thinking himself thoroughly out of bargaining chips, he raised his hands up high.

“Get up!” she shouted at him, her face twisted in a grimace of unholy fury.

“Fuck, I’m tryin’, ain’t I?!” Johnny barked back.

“What were you thinkin’, comin’ here on that fuckin’ bike! Haven’t you done enough?!” The woman kept shouting and Johnny only grimaced in response. 

He was now on one knee, hands still up. Against his better judgment, he looked her right in the eye, but quickly realised talking his way out of this one would prove to be tricky. 

“Look, alright, I don’t know what you’re so upset about, ‘cause—”

“My brother!” She shrieked. 

“Eddie?”

“Yes, Eddie! He died because of you!”

“Now, wait a damn minute…” 

“You! You and that fuckin’ gang of good-for-nuthin’ thugs on those fuckin’ machines!”

Johnny winced and looked at that shotgun again, trying to figure out his next move.

“Right.” He looked up at the woman, squinting from the sun and all that dust. Her dark horse, now grazing nearby, snorted like it was insulting Johnny personally. Not particularly fond of farm animals, Johnny wouldn’t put it past it.

“So you’re the sister, huh?”

She snorted not unlike the horse and finally put the safety on that shotgun. Johnny felt himself exhale.

“How observant,” she mocked, but then she extended her hand to help him up and Johnny took it. His knee immediately let him know how old he was.

“Get out of here. I don’t want you here.” She shoved him a little then and Johnny couldn’t help but be thoroughly shocked. 

Not that it did anything, she was not very strong, but in all his life Johnny had never been challenged by a woman. 

“Look…”

“No, mister, I ain’t lookin’ at nothin’, alright?” She shook her head and pointed that shotgun at the front gate. “Get outta here. We got nuthin’ to say to each other.”

“Alright. Alright. I’m goin’, see?” Johnny raised his hands again for no other reason but to show her she was in charge. He prided himself with never raising a hand at a woman, so he wasn’t about to start now. Not at a grieving one, either.

Even if she was insane.

She watched him turn his back to her and started to walk behind him like a very small guard dog that made up for its size with anger.

“Your parents let you walk around like that?” Johnny asked and dared a smirk since she couldn’t see his face anymore.

They walked a couple steps more along the path before she replied:

“Like what?”

“With that fuckin’ shotgun and all. It’s illegal, ya know? Might try to watch who you pointin’ that at.”

“What, you a cop now, mister?”

Johnny laughed at that and shook his head.

“And what'd you mean by that anyway? I’m supposed to wear frilly skirts on a farm?” she scoffed. “You try wearing a skirt on that ugly bike of yours, we’ll see how far it’ll take you.”

Johnny immediately took offence, since he had just renovated the red paint on it.

“What?” She grinned, watching him pull faces. “I’m supposed to just listen to you ‘cause you’re the boss or somethin’?”

“Yeah, or somethin’,” Johnny sighed, thoroughly regretting his decision to come there in the first place.

“I fuckin’ hate bikes. They’re all ugly.”

“Get outta here.” He waved his hand, letting her know she didn’t have a clue. None.

“Eddie told me all about you, Johnny Davis.”

“Yeah? And what’s that he told ya then?”

She paused and since they reached the gate anyway, Johnny figured what the dead brother had to say didn’t really matter.

“Yeah, you got us all wrong there.” Johnny turned around to look her in the eye. “You got nuthin’ to worry about from us, alright? We are sorry for Eddie. He was a good kid, alright, he… He really was.”

The sister looked at him all inquisitive like, but she didn’t put the shotgun away. It seemed to Johnny he got all compliant for nothing.

“Yeah, right,” she said, though without all that venom now. “I heard you burned down a bar only ‘cause they got in a fight with one of you.”

“That…” Johnny paused, looking for the right words. “That ain’t exactly how it happened.”

“But it did happen?” 

They looked at each other for the longest time, before Johnny finally gave her the smallest of nods.

“So,” she smirked, satisfied. “Let me tell you now so that you don’t get any ideas of comin’ here and botherin’ my folks. It’s the bike I’m thinkin’ you’re after and I can tell you now, we will sell it all, but not to you. I will sell it for parts and there’s nuthin’—”

“One thousand.”

“What?”

“One thousand, cash. I’ll bring it tomorrow.”

She sputtered, visibly shocked. That suited Johnny just fine.

“You ain’t serious, mister.”

“I am serious, yeah.”

“You’re out of your mind!”

“I am,” he smirked, still a bit amused with her against his will.

When she didn’t answer, Johnny got back on his bike.

“One thousand,” he said again, but this time she turned her back to him in response.

Johnny watched her walk away, then took one last look at that farm; all those apple trees growing in orderly rows like soldiers, the reddish barn that hadn’t seen a lick of paint in years, and that angry woman full of fire inside her, apparently responsible for all of it not going to hell.

They got that in common, Johnny thought, as he rode away.

Johnny came back the next day, one thousand cash in his jacket pocket and a knife in his boot. Not that his plan was to knife the lady necessarily, but last time he came unprepared and he didn’t like it.

She didn’t pull out a shotgun on him again, but there was a knife in her hand and that Johnny liked even less. She was peeling apples; a big basket of them by her side and a bucket of cold water next to it. All that red hair was gathered in a braid so messy it barely held it together. Johnny was reminded of that time Betty went out of town to visit her folks and he got left alone with the girls. Suffice to say, Betty never made that mistake again.

“Thought you wouldn’t show,” the crazy sister greeted Johnny and the apple she peeled landed in the bucket of water with a splash.

“I said I’d come, so…” Johnny said, all in all not too sure how to start the money talk. Men were easy to start that conversation with, at least in his experience. You flash the cash, the deal was struck. Never in his life had he negotiated a deal stranger than this one.

“And what’s that?” She pointed with the knife to the can he was holding. 

Johnny felt then that the string of fate which brought him to the goddamn apple farm was not a string at all, but an electric wire.

“Paint,” he replied and placed it at her feet. 

She raised an eyebrow.

“What, you gonna throw it at me if I don’t sell the bike?”

“The fuck you talkin’ about, girl?” Horrified by the idea, Johnny didn’t even notice it was sarcasm.

She got up then and crouched by the can, then popped it open with the knife. 

“Red.” She looked up at him and for the first time actually smiled.

“Yeah, ‘cause…” Johnny pointed to the barn awkwardly, then shook his head. “Nah, forget it.”

“No!” She popped the lid back on before he could reach for it and nearly got his fingers. Unsure if he did good or not, Johnny decided to keep his hands to himself.

“I know the place is falling apart, alright? I just… Didn’t get the time.” She looked at the barn then finally got up. “Hey, thanks for that, mister. I’ll uh…”

“Johnny.”

“What?”

“Just Johnny. I ain’t no ‘mister’, yeah, you don’t gotta call me that.”

“Sure.” She winked at him then and Johnny didn’t know what to do with that.

“Wanna see the bike?”

She took Johnny to the barn and as soon as he saw the state of that bike he knew he had made a mistake.

“One thousand you said?” the snarky creature dared to ask and she thoroughly enjoyed rubbing it in.

The bike was crushed, there was no doubt about it. There was no moving it from there either. Johnny crouched down to take a look, but it needed no expert to see the huge chunk of the exhaust missing, along with the back wheel. There was a dent on the side of it the size of a boulder, but as far as Johnny could see, the engine was still somehow intact. 

“Here.” He extended the money to her as he got up and she looked at it like she expected it to bite her.

“What?” Johnny asked. “A deal’s a deal.”

Finally, she relented.

“I can drive it back to town for ya,” she said then and pointed to the red pickup at the far back of the barn.

“Nah, it’s…” Johnny shook his head before he could think it through.

“What?” she scoffed. “You gonna walk it?”

“Can you drive?”

“Who do you think picked Eddie up from the bar when he got too drunk to stand?”

Johnny took one more look at the dented space where the back wheel of the bike was supposed to be and he relented.

On principle, though, he rode his bike alongside her pickup. They even started a race as they passed the Salt Creek, because why the hell not. She stood no chance, the pickup was too heavy, but Johnny was impressed that she even tried.

She parked outside his house and Johnny left his bike on the lawn. As if summoned by magic, Betty’s face appeared in the kitchen window. She took one pointed look at the lawn and Johnny knew he would hear about it later.

“I’ll, uh, fix it up a bit. Needs work but it’s a good one,” he said as he put the gloves back on to unload the broken bike from the pickup. He still couldn’t tell if the sister gave a shit about it at all.

“Yeah, well. It’s yours. You can blow it up if you like. You bought it.”

She tried to hide her face from him and Johnny decided to let it be. As she drove away, he found himself watching until that damn banged up red pickup disappeared around the corner. Seeing Betty’s face in the kitchen window again, Johnny knew he was cutting it close.

Some time passed, not like Johnny was counting days or anything, but every time he caught a glimpse of red hair at the corner store or anywhere else around town, he felt like a lunatic. One time one of the guys came to the bar with a redhead and Johnny nearly threw him out for no reason other than apparently having lost his mind.

“You fight too much, Johnny,” Brucie said to him then, half-amused. “Got hit on the ol’ noggin’ one too many times.”

“Shut up, Brucie.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

But then she did come to the bar one night, the real her, and Johnny couldn’t believe his very eyes. Granted, neither could any of the Vandals.

It was one of the quieter nights, even with the occasional shouting and rock music. Johnny nursed his drink in the corner and just as he poured himself another one, he heard it—horseshoes rhythmically hitting the pavement, coming closer and closer. 

Johnny pushed the bottle away and lit a cigarette instead. He must have had enough and was just hearing things, but then the bar door swung open and someone wolf-whistled. Johnny turned around just in time to see Eddie’s sister standing there, jeans and cowboy boots and all. She looked around and that’s when Corky decided to try his luck.

Johnny watched them like a hawk and he couldn’t tell what exactly was being said, but sure enough, in one practiced swing Corky got punched in the throat. 

“Fuck me,” Johnny muttered to himself as he got up and made his way towards what could turn into a rightful mess.

The rest of the guys still couldn’t tell whether they were pissed off or turned on, and apparently neither could Corky, choking on the floor and gasping for air.

“What the fuck?” Johnny hissed and grabbed the crazy redhead by the shoulder.

He didn’t want to read too much into it, but he could swear she looked relieved to see him.

“Got bored of painting my damn barn, didn’t I?” She started to talk like it was rapid fire or something. “Needed myself a drink, heard you got a bar or… somethin’. Fuck, your friends are grabby, though.” 

The cheeky thing. Johnny didn’t even know what to say to that. He looked around and noticed the guys giving them an odd sort of look. It pissed him off for reasons he couldn’t really name.

“There,” Johnny somehow manoeuvred the crazy girl out of everybody’s grasp and they sat together at his table.

“So,” he muttered as he finally found two damn seconds of peace to light a cigarette. “Whaddya want?”

“That’s how this works or somethin’? I gotta come to you with somethin’ I want?”

Johnny tried his best not to smile.

“Yeah, people usually do.”

“Can’t I just want to buy you a drink?”

“In my own bar?”

She rolled her eyes at him, actually rolled her eyes at him, then helped herself to his bottle and poured them both a drink.

“How’s the bike?” she asked, trying to sound all casual.

Johnny sat there motionless for a good moment, smoking and sizing her up. She had some type of a deal, he was sure of it. Everyone did and everyone wanted something. He just couldn’t really tell what it was she wanted. Yet.

“It’s alright, yeah.” 

“You think it will run again?”

“Oh, she’ll run.”

“So it’s a she, is it?”

This time it was her suppressing a smile and Johnny felt easier about it all.

“‘Course it’s a she, what are you talkin’ about?” He finally felt well enough to have that drink and she followed suit.

Then they drank some more and things got more relaxed. And significantly more blurry.

“You know, when Eddie and I were little, he used to never shut up about motorcycles. There was that movie… With Dirk Bogarde. Yeah, you know the one.” She grinned at him, no doubt seeing that spark of fondness in his face that he was unable to suppress. 

“Anyway, he must’ve dragged me like five times to see that movie. In the end I got so sick of it, but I still let him quote the lines at me. Eddie loved all that life, man, and these damn bikes…” 

Johnny let her be wistful about it. She looked like she needed it. There was an urge there to reassure her that Eddie would be missed, because that was the truth, but then Johnny felt her foot sliding up his leg and his brain short-circuited. 

His eyes snapped to hers and that lazy smile she gave him made this whole thing even worse. For a moment he doubted this was even real, but there it was, her foot still intertwined somewhere between his calves, and his brain and dick no longer connected.

“I’m married,” he said there, more to remind himself than to actually break the tension.

But she straightened up in her chair immediately and that was that. Her cheeks grew even redder than the tequila had made them and Johnny sighed a long sigh.

“Sorry,” she murmured and finished the rest of her drink. 

“Nah. Don’t be.”

She looked up again and this time it was all look, don’t touch. But still, Johnny felt like it was more. Or maybe he just really wanted it to be.

“Now listen, I’m… What, a good twenty years older than you—”

“Oh, shut up, old man.”

She poured them another drink and leaned forward on the table. Suddenly, her leg was back between his legs and neither of them could so much as breathe. Johnny held her gaze just in case; she reminded him of all them mountain lions his grandfather was so fond of hunting. Difficult to hunt in the first place, silent and deadly. But in the dark… Yeah, they were at their finest. They crept up on you all softly—you blinked and you died.

Truth be told, Johnny very much wouldn’t give two fucks if he did die then and there. But it was a dangerous thing, the old wolf of the pack actually being called old.

“I ain’t that young, by the way,” she said. “But I bet it’s the fumes for ya. They’re bad for your skin or somethin’.”

Johnny scoffed and downed his drink. She did the same and the lines got even blurrier.

When he came to the next morning, he was still in his chair, leaning against the wall, with the unmistakable taste of last night’s cigarettes in his mouth and the heaviness of too much tequila in his temples.

Something stirred in the corner of his eye then and then Brucie spoke:

“John.”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna tell me why there’s a horse in your bar?”

Johnny winced and forced himself to look. Every fibre of his being that was still even able to move groaned in protest.

“Well,” he muttered and rubbed his eyes, but there was indeed a horse—standing by the liquor cabinet, tail twitching nervously and all.

“I don’t know, Brucie, why don’t you go ask it, yeah?” Johnny rasped and then reached for his lighter, but his pack of Marlboros was empty as a tomb. Something stirred again in the corner and Johnny figured it was Brucie finally working up his courage to approach the horse.

“You think it wants a drink?”

Johnny opened his eyes again, suddenly alert. Sometimes he couldn’t tell if Brucie was kidding or not.

“Don’t feed the goddamn horse any liquor, Bruce, fuck’s sake. She’ll kill me.”

“You think it’s a she?”

“I don’t know if it is, yeah, but the horse has an owner and she’s very unstable, alright, let’s just leave it at that.”

“Oh… Your pretty little thing. Gotcha. Yeah, she’s out cold in the back.”

Johnny looked at him, even more annoyed now.

“My what?”

Brucie hesitated before speaking again and finally he pushed a bowl of water towards the horse. With loud, violent slurps, it started to drink.

“She’s sleepin’, Johnny, relax.”

Once again, Johnny felt like he absolutely, categorically wouldn’t relax anytime soon and so he stood up and only then did Brucie finally start making sense:

“Now listen, John, I didn’t let nobody near her, right, but the way you two been polishin’ that tequila bottle was somethin’ else, so… Yeah, she’s out cold.”

Johnny just shook his head and decided any explanation on his part would only make things worse. 

“Fuck, I need to get home,” Johnny rasped, but he went to the back instead. 

And there she was, fuck him sideways, sleeping on a bench and covered with something that looked suspiciously like Johnny’s Vandal jacket. She didn’t even move when he poked her shoulder and so he shook her as gently as he could.

“What?” She almost shot up when she finally woke and Johnny got a little alarmed by how panicked she looked.

“Yeah, you’re alright there, you’re okay,” he said in what he hoped was a comforting tone. “You just had too much to drink, but you’re okay.”

“I seem to remember someone drinking with me,” she snapped and sat up to put her shoes back on. “Fuck, my head…”

Johnny cleared his throat and decided not to comment. His own head was not faring any better.

“Did I say anything stupid last night?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah. Lots,” Johnny lied, smirking a bit.

She sized him up, full of suspicion.

“You don’t remember either, do ya?”

“Nope.”

Johnny helped her up and tried to ignore how much he liked seeing her in that jacket. Betty wouldn’t ever wear a Vandal jacket, but then again, he never asked her to do it either.

“My horse?”

“Having a drink with Brucie, don’t worry about him, he’s fine.”

She didn’t find that too amusing.

“Hey, Sleepin’ Beauty!” Brucie hollered at her as soon as they emerged from the backroom. Johnny winced at the noise.

She laughed as she saw her horse by the bar, but at least had the decency to look apologetic about it all.

“Your idea to bring him inside, was it?” Johnny asked, but unlike Brucie, he didn’t dare to come closer. 

Brucie, though, that guy had no fear. He was patting the horse on the neck and whispering something to him. Johnny had never seen him affectionate like that.

“There… might have been a discussion last night, how he’d be cold outside, John.”

“That so?”

“It was your idea, actually,” Eddie’s sister interjected, then poured herself whatever was left from the coffee pot.

Johnny felt personally offended by the notion.

“Fuck no, it wasn’t.” 

“I say it was and we can’t ask the horse, so…”

“Look, can I just…” Johnny rubbed his face and tried very hard to remain cool. But at the very last moment he changed his mind and what he finally said was:

“Can I get that horse outta my bar now?”

The cheeky little thing had the audacity to grin about it and then marched through the bar, grabbed her horse by the reins and carefully led it outside. Johnny caught Brucie’s amused look and didn’t even have to ask what all of that was about. 

She still had his jacket on. Johnny kicked himself for it, but wouldn’t ask for it back.

Not that long after, the rumours around town were in full swing. One evening Gail and Kathy let him know exactly what they thought about his old ass trading someone like Betty for a younger model and how apparently perverted he was. Johnny let them talk, mostly since there was nothing he could have said that would make them believe he was not having an affair. 

Then again, maybe he was. Who the fuck knew at this point. Betty believed him when they had that discussion, at least for a time, but finally something in her snapped, too. She took the girls to her folks and hadn’t come back since. Not that Johnny expected she would.

What cemented the rumours was Eddie’s sister coming over one night, entirely out of the blue. Johnny was in the driveway, still working on Eddie’s banged up bike. As soon as he saw that red pickup park straight in front of his house, something stirred in him. But then, he was damn sure all the neighbors saw it park there too, so the time for denial was over. 

“Am I interrupting?” 

She approached him with a six pack of beers, flaunting her figure in those dark blue Levi’s. She could interrupt him all she wanted.

“Nah.” He got up and took the beers from her. Then she leaned in closer and for a good moment Johnny didn’t know what to do with himself.

But all she did was take his handkerchief from the back pocket of his jeans and she wiped the motor oil stain from his cheek. He got a whiff of that pink Lux soap and then, entirely on instinct, he held her closer with his free hand. She looked up and it was like her eyes said, “Finally.” Johnny knew then that he wouldn’t let go of her anytime soon.

They kissed out in the open and with a full air of social disapproval. Johnny couldn’t give two shits about anyone’s approval, though, and knew she didn’t either. Although… Fucking in that creaky bed he had shared with another woman would have been bizarre, but fortunately they didn’t even make it to the bed. 

She let Johnny push her against the wall and he nearly tore those Levi’s off of her. Kissing her left him dazed, but then she started to bite his neck and that turned him feral instead. It felt alien, being so wanted, and how fucking sad was that. 

But she did want him and they fucked twice. The second time on the sofa, with her on top. Johnny couldn’t get enough of the sight of her.

They shared that six pack in the tub. She was sitting between his legs and it felt like she just belonged there. They didn’t even talk about anything in particular, but the water was warm and she was snuggled up against him like she actually wanted to be there. 

“Where’s that one from?” she asked about yet another tattoo and Johnny looked down to see better which one caught her attention.

“Marines.”

It was an unfinished head of a rottweiler on his thigh. He got half of it, then a dishonorable discharge for his trouble. Never quite got around to fixing it and now it was half-done on purpose.

“You like to swim, huh?”

“Not so much.”

“But you don’t mind the water now, do ya?”

“Nah,” He grunted and gave her the rest of the beer. “It’s like I’m livin’ again, girl.”

“Good. We’re gonna live some, you and I.”

You hardly noticed the trills echoing down the hall, engrossed in your textbook. You’d fallen behind in your classes since the trip with Danny and now you were working hard to catch up. It wasn’t until your roommate called, “Y/n, phone’s for you!” that you registered the noise. 

With chattering girls lining the hallway of your dorm, you held the receiver to your ear in an attempt to hear the caller. Your grip tightened for a moment as you spoke, wondering if Johnny might be checking up on you. However, your hopes were dashed the moment you heard Kathy’s honeyed voice with that unmistakable accent.

“Hey hun, how are ya?” she asked, a note of hesitancy in her greeting.

“I’m okay, I guess. How bout you?” you countered, waiting for the formality of it all to end and have her tell you what was really going on. When Kathy remained silent, you prodded, “What’s this all about, Kathy? I haven’t heard from you in months.”

“I know and I’m sorry about that, I really am,” she rushed out in uneven breath, conveying there was something more important on her mind. “Just thought you would want to know.”

“Know what?” you asked, a feeling of dread pooling in your stomach.

“It’s Johnny,” she admitted and you could hear the anxiety peaking in her voice as though you were the last hope.

You swallowed harshly as you reminded yourself to do as he said and stay out of his life. “I don’t have anything to say to him," you stated effecting a cool indifference.

“Please, you gotta talk to him. Nothin’ is the same since you left. The man is a mess for God’s sake!” she pleaded.

“He was always a mess, Kathy,” you reminded her softly, fingers tangling in the phone cord as you turned away from prying eyes.

“Listen, he stabbed a guy last night for giving him a look. A look!” she emphasized.

Without thinking of your promise to remain indifferent, you sputtered, “Is h-he…alright?” 

"Yeah, he ain't hurt, but he needs you," Kathy insisted.

"I don't know about that," you whispered, thinking of his swift departure from your hospital bed the moment he decided he was finished with you.

"That's where you're wrong," she countered, adding quickly, "I'm coming thru town tomorrow at noon and if you want to come with me, I'd be glad to take you to see him."

Your heart raced at the prospect, hand flying to your hair as you wondered when you'd last had it set. Biting your lip in anxious indecision, you finally nodded into the receiver slowly.

"Well, honey?" Kathy finally asked, unable to read your pensive silence.

"I-I'll come," you decided, affecting a firm tone that belied the sense of fear blooming in the pit of your stomach.

"I'm real glad to hear you say that," Kathy admitted, her relieved sigh crossing the line in a hiss of static.

"See you tomorrow," you ended the call with a small grin.

"Tomorrow," she agreed. "You're doin' the right thing," she rushed out before you hung up.

————————-

You'd been in town for two hours and your heart still hadn't stopped racing at the prospect of running into Johnny. He was probably working, you reasoned. No sense upsetting yourself when he wasn't even around. However, Kathy's retelling of recent events had set you on edge, unsure what to expect from the man you'd once trusted implicitly. It sounded as though he was losing his mind.

"Is it true he pulled a knife on somebody?" you asked Brucie when you ran into him at the garage.

Brucie averted his eyes, before hanging his head. You could tell from his posture he didn't want to give Johnny away and yet, you also sensed a desperation in him.

"He hasn't been the same since you left, Y/n," Brucie eventually confided. "I wanted to tell ya...honesty, I did, but he kept sayin' everything was fine."

You nodded sympathetically. "Is it a mistake to show up at the bar tonight?" you asked with trepidation.

Brucie let out a long sigh before admitting, "I think that's what he's been waitin' for."

-----------------

You changed your clothes a few times before settling on a denim mini skirt and patterned top. It was sweet and demure, leaving just enough to the imagination. When Kathy came into your room, she agreed you looked stunning.

"Oh, honey, he's gonna love that!" she exclaimed with her signature optimism.

"I'm not trying to get him back," you clarified in a stern voice.

Kathy nodded back at you, knowing it was best to bite her tongue.

She took your hand in hers, giving your sweaty palm a squeeze before leading you toward her waiting car.

"Don't be nervous," she advised.

"M not nervous," you insisted, gulping as you fixed her with a long stare.

"Okay," she agreed, opening the door for you.

----------------

The bar was crowded, more than you remembered for a Friday night and Kathy informed you a few new motorcycle gangs were in town. You quickly noted that Johnny was holding court in the back with an impressive amount of men surrounding him. It made you nervous to approach while he was doing business so you hung back, fingers wandering over the jukebox buttons as you tried to remain inconspicuous.

As the strains of "Lonely Room" played you couldn't help but gaze across the room at Johnny.

He recognized the song instantly, his chin jerking up in response to the first strains of music. When he caught your eye, he excused himself from the cloud of smoke and conversation to make his way toward you.

"Y/n," he exclaimed drinking you in with a hungry gaze and you found yourself hoping he hadn't had the same appetite since you'd been away.

"Hi Johnny," you replied on a low breath, somehow unable to manage anything more when faced with his imposing form.

"Can I get you a drink?" he asked, a note of hope in his voice as he waited to see if you wanted anything more to do with him.

"I'd like that," you agreed with a nervous smile as you claimed a chair far from the pool tables and the raucous noise.

Johnny soon returned from the bar with two cold bottles of beer, sliding one across the table to you.

"What brings you back to town?" he asked, cocking his head to the side as he studied your nervous expression.

"Kathy asked me," you answered vaguely.

"So you're in town to see...Kathy?" he asked, eyes boring a hole into you as he waited for some sign of the affectionate girl he once knew.

You nodded quickly in reply, placing the bottle to your lips in an attempt to appear casual.

Johnny leaned forward, the pad of his thumb resting over his chin as he asked, "You sure it ain't cause you're still in love with me?"

You nearly choked on the mouthful of now warm beer pooling in your mouth, unsure how to reply. Swallowing it down, you placed the bottle down with a thud, gaze fixed on Johnny. “Love's never meant much to me,” you confessed breathlessly, fingers tracing the beads of condensation sliding down your beer bottle.

“You ain’t a very good liar, sweetheart,” Johnny chuckled, watching your hand clench suddenly as irrefutable proof. 

Your eyes locked with his for a moment, ready to protest before pushing away from the table. Deciding not to give in, you simply shrugged as you rose from the table. “I made it this far without it.”

Johnny jumped from his spot across from you, capturing your elbow in a tight hold. You could practically feel his body vibrating with energy as he stood face to face with you in some sort of challenge.

“What do you want from me, Johnny?” you demanded, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"Nothin," he replied too quickly for your liking, dropping your arm as a shadow of despair crossed his brow.

"That's not true is it?" you asked, watching his features contort in pain.

Johnny's blue green eyes fixed on your grief stricken face, holding you hostage as he took one long, deep breath.

"I ain't learned to live without you," he admitted sorrowfully.

Taking a step closer to him, you ran your hands against his stubbled cheeks, staring into his eyes with purpose. "You asked me to go, Johnny, remember?"

"I know I did," he nodded gently, relishing the feeling of your hands against his skin. "And I'm so sorry. It was a mistake. I was only tryin' to keep you safe cause I never loved anyone like I love you."

You inhaled sharply at his admission, lower lip trembling and fat tears escaping down your cheeks as you he spoke the words you'd longed to hear.

"Don't cry, darlin'," he begged, swiping the pad of his thumb over your cheek. "I want to make it up to you, I swear."

You stood frozen to the spot, emotions overwhelming you. Kathy stared intently from across the room, waiting to see if you needed her, but you gave her a soft shake of your head to indicate you were alright. Everything seemed right with the world now that you had Johnny.

Looking up at him, you beamed with happiness. "I'm ready to start fresh," you told him confidently.

With a whoop of excitement, he picked you up and spun you around, eager to embark on this second chance with you.

"You wanna go for a ride?" he asked, eyes shimmering in the dim light.

"Thought you'd never ask," you grinned with a giggle. And he pulled you from the bar toward his waiting bike, a new adventure on the horizon.

-------------

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FAMILY SECRET

Although it was already sixth child of Mr. and Mrs. Nelson, the day was still exciting for the both of them and all their friends and family. The Baptism ceremony of little Priscilla was much more than a religious milestone in her life; it was an important event for Boston’s society. Absolutely everyone was invited – politicians, high ranked officers, businessmen, bankers, brokers and even a few befriended journalists. Mr. Nelson loved to show off his big family and he never failed to make a point that whichever child they were presenting at the moment – was not their last.

All the boys had brand new suits just like their father and all the girls had white dresses just like their mother to remind everyone of their innocence and good intentions. An image of a perfect Catholic family that no one would dare to disrespect and everyone wanted to be like.

Mrs. Susan Nelson’s dress was perhaps white and quite humble but it was obvious that it had to cost a fortune just like all the alcohol and huge cakes at the party taking place after the church’s ceremony at the Nelson’s mansion in the outskirts of the city.

Little Priscilla was never a fussy baby, she was peacefully sleeping in her mother’s arms when her father was receiving all the congratulations and blessings… Also, most importantly, lots of expensive gifts.

“The mayor has gifted us a diamond necklace,” Jack leaned in to whisper into his wife’s ear.

“Is he mad? Priscilla is not even one year old!”

“Oh, of course,” Jack rolled his eyes, “we will give it to her when she is older. For now, you can wear it.”

“Oh, fine then,” Susan nodded at him and smiled widely.

She was quite a simple woman that Jack had married before getting this amount of rich, therefore he preferred her not to open her mouth during the events unless she wanted to agree on anything he was saying. He loved his wife but she wasn’t exactly the most presentable type when it came to that. She looked like an absolute gem in all the expensive dresses that were tight on her almost always round stomach, showing off his vigor and fertility in front of the society… but when it came to opening her mouth, Jack preferred for her to keep it shut when they were around important people.

“Mommy! Mommy!” six years old Cynthia approached her mother and started to tug on her dress. “Oh, please, can I go upstairs to my room and play with the new dolls Priscilla got?”

She had known already that her sister was too young to play with them, therefore they belonged to her and her sisters now.

“Absolutely not!” Susan Nelson scolded her and adjusted sleeping Priscilla in her arms. “It is the party after your sister’s Baptism ceremony! You have to stay here and entertain the guests.”

“How can I even entertain them, mother?” Cynthia pouted.

“Psst, Heather. Heather!” Susan waved her hand at the eight years old. “Come here.”

“Yes, mommy?”

“Go, play a song on the piano and Cynthia will sing for us,” Susan proposed, excitedly.

“Goodness, no,” Jack gave her a stern look. “Absolutely not.”

“What do you mean?! They’re very talented, it’s always a sensation! I am sure that our guests cannot wait for our daughters’ performance!” Susan scolded him.

Jack chuckled ironically and cleared his throat so everyone would look at him.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I would love to present to you my two absolutely adorable daughters who – believe me or not – are not only pretty but also bloody talented…” he started and people laughed.

“Jack!” Susan hissed at him. “Language!”

Cynthia and Heather bowed down in front of everyone and they ran to the piano, preparing themselves for the performance.

“What will you sing, Miss Nelson?” one of the men asked.

“She might sing but it’s going to be me playing, Mr. Mason!” Heather reminded him and everyone laughed.

“Of course, Miss Heather. What will you two perform, I mean.”

“Sing something religious!” Susan proposed enthusiastically but to her surprise everyone winced.

“No, no, Mrs, Nelson, please…” the voices surrounded her and she looked down.

“Sing the National Anthem,” Jack nodded at Cynthia, already grabbing a drink to be able to bear with that performance. “Because our family loves America and everything America represents, don’t we?”

“Yes, daddy. I love America,” Cynthia batted her eyelashes and everyone went “awww” at that.

That was of course a game but six years old Cynthia was a perfect player. It seemed like she had always known how to pick up any game her father had been coming up with. He loved all his children the same but Cynthia was – so far – his greatest pride out of all the girls. Heather was too delicate, he would marry her off to some good man who would take care of her but Cynthia was born to shine.

Only time would tell what Priscilla would become.

The boys were a completely different story. They were all trying their best to be just like their father and Jack was sure that he was raising future fighters.

However, he prayed for something to happen at this very moment. Something that would save his ears from Heather’s piano skills and Cynthia’s “O Say, Can You See…?”.

Wishing for that something to happen, he could never predict the event that would occur, though.

“Mr. Nelson, I am sorry, I was trying to stop them by the door…!” one of the terrified maids ran inside the room and everyone looked at her.

“What are you talking about?” Jack gave her a stern look.

“I am so sorry, they…”

The door opened loudly and two uninvited guests went inside the room. Jack felt his heart freezing inside his chest at the sight.

A young woman in a long, black dress, with ruby red lips curved into a contemptuous smirk. Her manicured hand was placed around a man’s arm. The man himself looked extraordinary, too. He was wearing black clothes as well and a hat. In his free hand he was holding a cane and his beard looked pretty ungroomed. However, it was visible that his clothes did not belong to a tramp or a beggar. He was a man of wealth.

“Shalom!” he opened his arm in front of Jack and terrified Susan trying to shush Priscilla who had just started to scream and cry, which was so unusual of her.

“O say, can you see, by the dawn’s early light…” Cynthia started nevertheless but Heather’s firm stare made the girl stop and swallow thickly before looking down.

“Rosemary…” Jack whispered, still staring at the woman.

“Nice to see you, too, brother,” Rosemary snorted. “I was quite hurt, I have to admit, that I haven’t received an invitation to your child’s Baptism ceremony,” she faked sadness. “To none of the ceremonies, to be exact.”

“What… What are you doing here?” Jack squeezed the glass in his hand.

“Jack, for the love of God, who is that?!” Susan handed Priscilla to a maid and stood next to her husband. “What is happening?!”

“Oh, he hasn’t told you?” Rosemary tilted her head. “Why would he tell you about his sister after all…”

“Sister?!” Susan’s eyes widened and all the guests looked at each other.

“Yes, sister,” Rosemary let go of the man’s arm and approached her brother and his wife slowly. Susan swallowed thickly and hid behind her husband’s back. “The one who caused scandal after scandal so eventually my beloved brother’s patience ran out… And he locked her in an asylum, didn’t he?” she stopped right in front of Jack’s furious face.

“It is my daughter’s Baptism ceremony party. You really didn’t have to ruin that day for her,” he drawled out through his gritted teeth.

“Oh, I doubt little Priscilla will remember that day,” Rosemary smirked. “You should be happy, brother!” she screamed out loud. “The lobotomy you planned for me didn’t take place because Mr. Solomons,” she pointed at the man who had arrived with her, “helped me to escape the institution and we got married right after. Now it’s him deciding about my fate and not you, dear brother.”

“Solomons…?” one of the men asked carefully. “Is he family with those Solomons supplying Boston with narcotics?!”

“Awful people!” Susan Nelson suddenly gained the courage to take a step ahead and speak up. “I am one of the founding members of the society’s club opposing the Solomons’ drug business. They sell narcotics to our children and poison the streets of Boston with opium!”

“Oh, come on, lady,” Mr. Solomons opened his arms and chuckled, “we both know, right, that my family got the opium only because my friend Mr. Shelby fooled your husband. It was actually Mr. Nelson who was supposed to supply Boston streets with the narcotics and after his failure he decided to use you and all his friend gathered here to start a legal war on drugs in this city but his real purpose, you see, is to get rid of my family after his ego got hurt badly.”

Everyone gasped and Susan’s eyes widened even further.

“Ah, apparently, you did not know. Pardon,” Mr. Solomons bowed his head down.

“Jack…?!” Susan looked at her husband but it seemed like his face lost all the color. “Jack…!”

He dropped the glass with whiskey, which shattered on the marble floor.

“My goodness, he’s about to have a heart attack!” Mrs. Nelson helped her husband to sit down on one of the armchairs. “Doctor! We need a doctor!”

One of the men emerged from the crowd while Rosemary kept circling around the tables with the cakes and champagne glasses like an animal hunting its prey. Her eyes were focused on her brother and the smirk never left her ruby red lips.

All the guests were gone and probably gossipping all over town already. Jack was still sitting in the same armchair, pale as a ghost. He was given a medicine by Doctor Parton who had assured Mrs. Nelson that her husband would not have a heart attack… At least not on that day.

All the Nelson children except for little Priscilla were sitting on a long sofa and watching the situation with huge eyes while their mother kept crouching down next to her husband’s armchair and caressing his cheeks to calm him down.

Rosemary and Mr. Solomons were eating one of the cakes by the table.

“Are you our aunt?” Richard asked first. He was the eldest and he felt the responsibility to eventually break the awkward silence.

“Richard, don’t,” Susan scolded him silently.

“Richard?” Rosemary snorted at that and looked down at the boy. “So, what do they call you? Dicky?”

“Rosemary,” Jack spoke up finally, “enough. He’s a child.”

“What’s wrong with being called Dicky?” Richard asked.

“I’m William!” the younger boy raised his hand, wanting some of the attention.

“Willy then?” Rosemary kept teasing. “And what’s his name? Peter?”

“How did you know?!” William gasped since little Peter was too little to speak.

“Maybe I’m a witch,” Rosemary chuckled.

“Being a witch is a sin!” Heather pointed out and Cynthia pushed her.

“Don’t be stupid! You can’t say such things out loud in front of her!” her younger sister scolded her.

“And you, sir? Are you our uncle?” Richard pointed at Mr. Solomons.

“Absolutely bloody not!” Susan squealed and stood up rapidly.

“Mummy!” Heather gasped. “Language!”

“Oh, please! Our reputation is already in shreds after that stunt!” Susan clenched her fists and gave her sister-in-law a furious glance.

“So you care more about your reputation than the fact that your husband wanted his own sister to have a lobotomy?” Rosemary smirked.

“Well, as we can see, he had his reasons!”

“How did you two even meet, huh?” Jack came back to his senses and stood up as well before pointing his fingers at Rosemary and Mr. Solomons.

“Alfie was a patient, too. He was there to cure his alcohol addiction,” Rosemary explained and shrugged her arms.

“I highly recommend, mate,” Mr. Solomons gave Jack a contemptuous smirk.

“You…” Jack pointed his finger at the man and he would jump to his throat if it hadn’t been for his wife holding him back. “You better shut your mouth up, you…”

“Oh, please, Jack,” Rosemary rolled her eyes while interrupting his outburst of anger, “can we skip the part where you blurt out all the insults and slurs and finally get to the point?”

“And what exactly is your point?!” Susan screamed at her. “Because I think you have already achieved your goal, which was to ruin our family’s reputation! Congratulations, well done!”

“Oh, my dear sister-in-law, you’re too dramatic. They will say that Jack has a crazy sister that escaped the asylum. It’s not exactly his fault, is it? Nothing’s ruined yet…”

“It is!” Susan angrily stamped her foot and Rosemary laughed at that. “Richard won’t become the President of the United States when the whole of America finds out about this scandal!” she burst into tears and sat down on the armchair before hiding her face in her hands.

“Is she serious about that?” Rosemary pointed at her with her thumb.

“Absolutely, my dear, I’m afraid,” Mr. Solomons nodded and took another bite of cake.

“Mommy, don’t cry!” Cynthia approached her mother and hugged her head. “Being a President is not the best job anyway! Look at Abraham Lincoln! It wasn’t good for him, was it?”

“Yes, yes, you’re right, Cynthia, darling…” Susan sniffled her tears back and took the handkerchief offered to her by Heather.

Jack took a deep breath in and sighed.

“So, we are family now, Solomons,” he started.

“Only on paper. If you want to call yourself my brother-in-law, you have to earn that, mate,” Alfie informed him sternly.

“Earn that?!” Rosemary’s eyes widened. “Alfie, we came here to tell him that we are going to destroy his business! You cannot possibly forgive him for the fact that he wanted to…”

Mr. Solomons raised one of his hands to shush his wife and then he rested it on his cane and squinted his eyes while staring at Jack.

“I think we both can prosper if we join our forces together, don’t you think, Nelson?” he asked and Rosemary gasped before crossing her arms.

“How? My wife is a founding member of the club that wants to legally get rid of your family from this city. I can’t join you now,” Jack sat down by the table and Rosemary ostentatiously left it the very moment.

“No one has to know we work together and actually, that little club… It can be useful, you just listen to me…” Mr. Solomons lowered his voice and Jack leaned in.

Rosemary sighed and crouched down next to the armchair.

“I’m sorry, Susan… But as your daughter said, being a President is not the best job there is. I might have saved your son’s life actually, who knows…?”

“Should have saved your breath instead!” the lady of the house sobbed.

“My name is Cynthia,” the girl introduced herself. “And this is my sister Heather. The one baptized today is named Priscilla.”

“Such remarkable names,” Rosemary smirked.

“My mummy chose the girls’ names and daddy chose the boys’ names,” Heather explained.

“When I was in the asylum, there was an old woman named Cynthia. She was screaming bloody murder all night long and snoring all day in a rocking chair,” Rosemary laughed.

“Oh, that’s so unlike me, aunt Rosemary!” Cynthia giggled. “I’m a good girl. In fact, I’m daddy’s favorite!” she added with pride.

“No, you’re not, you goose!” Heather pushed her. “Daddy doesn’t have favorites.”

Rosemary smiled sadly and straightened her back before approaching the table once again. Her husband looked engaged in a conversation with her brother.

“Jack,” she put her hands on his chair and he looked up at her, “you have lovely children.”

He laughed at that. Rosemary had never been known for adoring kids. Quite the opposite.

“I mean it,” she added with a hint of melancholy. “Doesn’t mean I want my own but I am happy that you’ve got yours. They love you and you love them… You love your family, Jack. Why couldn’t you love me…?” she tried her best to not to cry but she couldn’t stop her voice from breaking.

“I could ask you the same thing, Rosemary. I’ve been asking you many times to behave properly, you knew how important that was for me and your last stunt before I put you in that place… You know very well you did that on purpose. You wanted to ruin me so I took my advantage of being your brother and ruined you before you would do the same to me. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t do the exact same thing if you were me, because I won’t believe that. We are both Nelsons and it has always been nothing but a cruel game between us.”

They both turned around to see Richard and William trying to calm the fighting girls down. They were still having an argument about being daddy’s favorite but their brothers tried to resolve the conflict.

“We could have been like them,” Rosemary pointed out.

“Could have but you’re batshit crazy, sister.”

“And you’re an ass.”

“Either way, it was a very pleasant party,” Mr. Solomons stood up and put his hat back. “Despite the lack of the invitation, I hope it won’t happen again,” he smiled fakely at Jack and extended his arm towards his wife. “Rosemary, my dear…?”

She took him by the arm to leave the Nelson’s mansion.

“Are you crazy?! You want to work with him now after everything he has done…?!” Rosemary couldn’t wait until they’d be inside the car.

“Don’t be stupid, Rosemary. I’m deceiving him, can’t you see? We’re going to destroy him, absolutely, bloody smash him to the ground and make him suffer, you bloody witch you. They should name a hurricane after you, you know that, my love?” Alfie opened the door of the car in front of his wife.

“Now I do,” Rosemary chuckled as her eyes sparkled.

Meanwhile, inside the house, all the children left the room already to play but Susan Nelson kept crying in the armchair. Jack crouched down and squeezed her hand in his.

“My dear, enough of the tears now,” he lifted her chin up with his free hand. She looked deep into his eyes and sniffled. “I have a plan, my love, don’t you worry. We are going to destroy the Solomons, I promise you that.”