Vic Vaughn is Vicious

But I was the one who made the decision to drop out. And I did that because of what Lucille Lancaster said about Vicious Vaughn. He will treat you like shit, she said. He will use you up and throw you away, she said.

He will never want that baby.

She said that to me. She knew.

And I believed her.

I can’t really blame myself. I was young then. She was young too. Just a grad school student. But her youth is no longer an excuse.

And neither is mine.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE - VIC

Why is life like this?

You get one good thing, then something horrible happens.

Is this just life? Is the bad stuff always lingering in the background just waiting to pounce on you when you’re happy? Why doesn’t life have a rulebook? That would be so much easier.

Last week I didn’t care about money. Last week I was riding high on the news that I had a daughter and not only was her mother someone I could see myself with, she was the one who got away. She was a girl I wanted to try with, long before I settled down into this life I’m living now.

Things were great. I bought my dream property. We were looking at house plans. We were planning our future. I spent just about every cent to my name to turn this dream life into reality. I had the perfect future in the palm of my hand.

And then bam.

It all gets ripped away.

A restraining order. A fucking restraining order. Like I am some lowlife wifebeater.

This is what this town thinks of me. People need protection from me. I was born trash and I will die trash no matter what I accomplish in my life.

I am my grandfather to these people. Hell, this town doesn’t hate my father the way they hate me and Gramps. They don’t hate Vann or the twins the way they hate me and Gramps. They love Veronica. And Spencer, even though that fucker literally got away with murder.

And I know those secrets. So I know he was the actual one who did it.

But do people hate Spencer? Do they look at him like he’s a disease? Do they whisper things about him behind his back?

I mean, OK, maybe they do whisper things. But they’re not bad things. I guarantee they’re not bad things. He had his own TV show, for fuck’s sake. And that was after the murder trial.

What have I ever done to these people to deserve this reputation?

It feels so fucking personal.

And ya know, my gramps is not that bad of a guy. Sure, he’s crazy. But he’s fuckin’ old. Give the bastard a break. Why hate him for being clever and winning that mansion in a card game? Why not just say, Good for you?

My phone rings and I briefly consider not answering it. If I was in the truck, I would let it go to voicemail because the truck is old. But I’m in the van, driving home from a long stretch up in the mountains with Bobby, and this van has all the hands-free shit so my dash display is showing that it’s Jeeves.

I press accept on the screen. “What?”

“Well, you’re in a good mood.”

“Sorry. I’m kinda pissed off.”

“As you should be. I heard.”

“I don’t want to talk about it. I’m fucking tired.”

“I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for like five days.”

“I’ve been… busy. No signal where I was. Only sat phones and, sorry, but I didn’t think I had to check in with you.”

“Right. No signal. Should’ve guessed that.”

“Why would you have guessed it?”

“Your little gig up in the mountains with Bobby.”

“What? This isn’t something we’ve ever talked about so you shouldn’t even know about it. In fact, if you do know about it, we’re in some big-time shit. Do you know about it?”

“Well, I know something. Because it’s all over town.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“The rumor is you’re running a militia up in the mountains.”

“What rumor? When the fuck did this happen?”

He thinks for a moment. “Friday? They have a warrant out for your arrest.”

“What the actual fuck? Why?”

“It’s a federal charge too. Organizing an unlawful militia or some shit.”

“You’re kidding me?” I actually scoff.

“Not kidding, dude. So listen.” He sighs. “Where are you?”

“Driving home. Why?”

“Specifically. What road?”

“I don’t know.” I look around at the forest. There’s no real way to tell where I am until I actually get somewhere. “I’m on Poudre Canyon Road heading south towards Ted’s Place gas station. Why?”

“Thought that was you.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Jeeves?”

“I put a call in on your behalf.”

“To who?”

“Who do you think? The Morans.”

“Why would you call them?”

“Because you’re in the fam now. Remember? Reunion? They’ve already asked me to book you for next summer, by the way. You’re in for that, right?”