Razor's Edge (Underworld Kings) - Page 9

My dad was bent over inspecting the contents of the cooler that someone had dragged onto the kitchen table. He tossed me a can of beer without turning around.

“Make yourself useful, boy. That’s your reward. Put some fucking hair on your chest.”

I said nothing, cracked the beer and turned toward the living room where Bala was on his knees looking at the back of the multi-media player. Fucking imbeciles. I swore I had more brain power in my big toe than these losers did in their whole gang.

The guys outside started hooting and hollering, whooping it up like they only did when objectifying women. I hoped to God it wasn’t for my mom or for Fox’s girl Cherry. That shit made my blood run cold and fists clench involuntarily.

“Get out of the way, Bala. I can’t set up your game if you don’t move your ass.”

“Jimmy, some sweet piece of meat is here to see you!” my dad hollered from the front porch amidst a ruckus of bikers who all had the maturity of twelve-year-olds. My dad called me Jimmy out of spite cause he knew I hated it. My parents named me Calvin James Montgomery after my two grandfathers. Dad wanted me to be James, so he called me Jimmy to get back at my mom, killing two birds with one stone because he knew how much it pissed me off.

My hands started shaking and I shoved them in my pockets because really, I wished I could clear out the house with my fists. I strode to the bay window, leaned over the couch and looked out at the chaos. Just like I was afraid of, I saw Ellison standing on the sidewalk looking up at the house, in what looked like her fucking nightgown and she’s barefoot.

What the fuck? Do the seizures make her sleepwalk?

“Don’t be shy, come on up, sweetie,” said some creep. A lumbering jackass old enough to be her grandfather was leering at her and the nearly transparent nightie she was wearing.

Never had I run faster to get out of the house, jumping down all five porch steps and sprinting down the front walk. I blocked her from sight with my body so most of them couldn’t see her anymore.

“Fuck, Ellison, aren’t you cold?” I fought the urge to wrap her up in my arms, steal her mouth and suck those plump lips into my own. I put a hand on her bicep and looked into her clear blue eyes. “Ellison? You okay?”

She seemed shocked into silence or paralysis, maybe she was sleepwalking. Then she pulled air into her lungs until it made an audible sound. Two clear tears slid down her innocent doll face, one out of each eye. Epilepsy was more serious than I realized. Ellison could put herself in real danger with how out of it she seemed.

“I heard the bikes.” It’s all she said, blinking once and then twice. Her eyes rolled back in her head and I caught her before she hit the ground. One knee under her weight had me kneeling like I was about to propose, her head dropped back, long hair brushing the ground. Holy shit. She needs that nasal spray thing again.

“Brush your teeth, man!” It’s the same voice that was taunting Ellison on the way across the street.

“What Jimmy, now you’re a fucking Beatle? Got girls passing out over your love songs?” My father—just as juvenile as the rest of them.

I thought about shouting the real reason so one of the useless fucks would come down here to help me get her back across the street. On second thought, I didn’t want a single one of their greasy fingers touching her delicate skin. I’d get her back myself and risk falling in front of all of them.

Gathering up my dignity, I pushed off from the kneeling leg and made it to standing holding her like a child in my arms. Her scent enveloped me and stunned my senses into hyper-awareness. She was breathing. Her heart was beating. Her flesh was soft and warm to the touch. I wobbled trying to negotiate the last four steps down to the street. Thank God, she didn’t move in farther down the block.

In her yard, sensor lights came on bathing us both in light. Our audience couldn’t keep their mouths shut as if this simple act was the greatest thing they’d seen for weeks. They’re now singing the theme to Conan the Barbarian. I stumbled twice on the sidewalk leading up to her door. Sound effects ensued from the gaggle of club members invading my porch.

I bent my knee up in the air and supported the back of her head as I removed my arm to ring the bell. I could hear sound inside and it reverberated throughout the house. A double chime that seemed to sing the song of a perfect family.

Tags: Mila Crawford Crime
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