Sweet Haven was no more, and Malus was born. Malus is the Latin term for… you guessed it; Malice. While the name seems just the opposite of what me and my brothers want for this town, it fits. It serves as a reminder of where we came from and what we’ll never be again. It reminds the townspeople of what we have overcome and made better. It shows the darkness and evil of our pasts and our tenaciousness of what will happen should that darkness threaten us again. We are malicious, but only when it’s deemed necessary.
The name of our town isn’t the only changes we made. The only good thing the people of Sweet Haven ever did was settle in an oil enriched area of Texas. When the town was overrun by the feds and the townsfolk went to jail, died, or fled, they left huge chunks of money behind. That money was passed down to the children, along with the oil drenched land. The few good adults who were left were well off, but the town was in ruins and there was no hope for it to be resurrected. When we moved back, my brothers and I decided to take our former homes and have them completely gutted and restored, wiping out all memories of our pasts. When the town started populating again, many of the people did the same. Some opted to keep their homes as they were.
My brothers aren’t really my brothers, not by blood anyway. They’re my brothers because of our past, the pain we all endured together, the shit we lived through. We’re closer than any blood relative could ever be. When we left with Dale and Mae all those years ago, we did so because we knew the state would separate us. No foster family would take on four teenage boys. Dale and Mae made it possible for us to stay together.
We lived with them until Emo, the youngest of the four of us, turned eighteen, refusing to leave him there. We all went to the local college, got our various degrees and licenses, before moving back here. Mae and Dale stayed behind in Kentucky until Dale died two years ago. Mae was reluctant at first to move back to such a horrible place, but after she came for a visit and saw what we were doing with the town, she relented. She’s back in her and Dale’s old place, and it’s just the way they left it twenty-three years ago. She wanted to keep her memories of Dale alive by not changing anything.
“Trouble!” a male voice shouts behind me. I turn to see Judge walking toward me.
Judge isn’t his real name, just like Trouble isn’t mine and JW and Emo aren’t theirs. Actually, Trayce hasn’t always been my legal last name either. I had it changed from Benson as soon as I turned eighteen, because I didn’t want to be connected to my parents in any way.
Our nicknames are ones we gave ourselves as children because we couldn’t stand to be called by our real names. Judge got his name because he was the oldest of us four and always looked after us. He was the reason we survived our childhood.
He also happens to be the actual judge of our town, so the name fits him in more ways than one.
“It’s about to start. Where in the hell have you been?” he asks, coming to a stop beside me. We both turn and start our trek toward town hall where a lot of the citizens of Malus awaits us.
“Had some shit that came up,” I answer.
“I heard about the woman who dropped into town yesterday.” I glance over when I hear the hard edge in his tone. “How soon before she leaves?”
I shrug. “No more than a day or two.”
“Good. Make sure it stays that way.”
As I told the woman yesterday in my office, we don’t get many people out this way. It’s the way we like it. Most of the world wouldn’t agree with our tactics, would probably go as far as saying it’s cruel and unjust. We don’t welcome or encourage visitors, and on the rare occasion we do get them, we ensure they don’t want to stay.
“I’ll have JW follow her when she leaves to make sure she stays gone.”
He gives me a short nod then opens the door to town hall. When we walk in, there’s a chorus of voices as people mingle with each other. JW and Emo are up on the small stage waiting on Judge and me. When the townsfolk spot us making our way toward the stage, they quiet down and take their seats. Including children and adults, Malus’s population is three-hundred and eighty-nine. Roughly half of them are in attendance. Children are unaware of these meetings, and therefore, not allowed.
Judge and I stop at the front to say hello to Mae.
“Hey, Mae.” I kiss her cheek and she pats mine in return. Judge does the same and gets the same treatment.
“How’s the hip? Still bothering you?”
Her eyes crinkle, making even more wrinkles appear on her face, when she smiles. “Not since you prescribed me that arthritis medicine. It’s been a Godsend.”
“Good. I’m sure you taking a break from The Hill has been a contribution as well.”
Her smile slips fractionally. When Mae moved back here two years ago, The Hill was back up and running. The property was still in her name, but with her permission, Meryl and Doris took it over eight years ago. Once she was back, they tried to step aside since it was her business, but she would have none of it. She ended up selling half of the business to them with the stipulation they would all three run it together. Mae is eighty years old, and thankfully now realizes she needs to take it easier on herself. Her body is too old to be working so many hours in a day. She now only comes in for a couple of hours two times a week. I know it’s hard on her because the restaurant was hers and Dale’s and it holds a lot of memories of her husband, but she needs to slow down. My brothers and I aren’t ready to lose her. We’ve already lost Dale, the only real father figure we ever had. Losing Mae would be devastating.
“Yeah, well, it doesn’t mean I have to like it,” she grouches.
I chuckle. “You’ll get used to it.”
“You and the boys still coming over for dinner Sunday?” She directs the question to Judge.
He dips his head. “You know we’ll be there.”
Her gaze slides back to me and her eyes twinkle. “Wonder which girl he’ll bring.”
“Maybe I’ll bring them all,” he remarks with a raised brow.
“Kayn William Beckett, you best not be bringing all your girls to my dinner table,” Mae scolds. Judge grimaces at the use of his full name. There’re not many people who know our birth names. Mae is one and the only person allowed to call us by them. She only does so when she’s berating us, because she knows how much we hate them. If anyone else dare tries, their face gets real acquainted with our fists.
“Calm down, Mae,” Judge’s deep voice rumbles. “You know I wouldn’t disrespect you like that.”