“I’m scared to look anyone in the eye. Some cunt from the Rebel Raisers MC was moved into B Block and the whole fucking dynamic has changed. I won’t go into it, but some shit went down between our clubs a few months back, and anyone wearing my cut is in the firing line.”
Maybe the fact that they monitor these calls will help, give them more of a reason to move him out of harm’s way.
“Fuck me.” I let out a laboured sigh. “What can I do? Tell me, brother. You know I don’t wanna have anything to do with the MC, but if I have to go into that clubhouse swinging, I will. What is it gonna take to keep you safe?”
“There’s nothing you can do. I just have to ride it out. I’ll try and get a message back to Maddog and see if he can talk to the pres and make some kind of deal to get me protection.”
“I’ll see what I can do from my end,” I tell him before we say our goodbyes.
“Don’t. This shit is hard enough.”
Too late, brother.
V made no mention of moving into protection. How long does it take the fuckin’ paper pushers to take action with something like this? Every minute counts.
I can only hope that V taking the wrap for the drug offence is gonna get him some leeway with the club, and that somehow I can pay them off. When this is all over, they have to let him go.
With heavy steps, I rush to the bathroom and lift up the toilet seat, which is down for once. I empty what little contents are in my stomach. There’s a red tinge to the water, which is weird, considering I didn’t drink anything red. Fuck. The dry-heaving subsides after a while, and I’m left shaking in a cold sweat.
Using the sink as leverage, I pull myself up and rinse the acid from my mouth with cold water. I gulp down enough liquid to try and settle my stomach.
“You okay?” A quiet voice comes from the doorway.
Suds is standing there, arms folded across her chest, her shoulders slumped, almost in defeat. Her eyes are glassy and her cheeks flushed. I’ve just had a go at her, and somehow she still gives a shit. She cares enough to ask when she could’ve ignored me. I don’t understand women—not one iota.
“Brand new,” I mutter and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.
My mobile in my pocket rings. “Christ, what now?” I mumble to myself as I dig it from my jeans. If it wasn’t Jones, I’d be ignoring the call. I’m in no fucking mood to talk.
“Yeah,” I say, answering the call. I grip the sink to steady me. I’m light-headed all of a sudden. My drab reflection in the mirror explains why. I’m pale as fuck.
“We need to get together to sort out the bucks. You doin’ anything today?”
The last thing I feel like doing today is being sociable, but I can’t let him down. “Not a fucking thing.”
“Meet you at the Royal? We can have a counter lunch and some beers.”
I guess I’d better put some food in my stomach.
“I’ll see you there.”
When I look back to the doorway, Suds is gone.
I brush my teeth and splash cool water on my face.
Time to ring that fucker at Long Bay and find out what the hell he’s done with the information I gave him.
****
“We’re doin’ Vegas for the bucks,” Jones says, as he hands me a beer. The bright smile on his face tells me that it’s gonna happen whether I want it to or not.
“Vegas,” I say, with a slow nod.
I’m not impressed about going overseas. I’ve never been in a wedding party, and I’d do anything for this bloke, but V is shitting bricks right now. I could hear the trembling in his voice over the phone today. He sounded like he did that day when he was seven years old and he got lost in the bush for five hours. He was just a scared kid then, and today felt no different. I’ve never felt so helpless. How the hell can I protect him behind bars when even the wardens can’t seem to do it?
“We’ll make it a flying visit. Three or four days. Stone has been looking into a deal for us so we can drive Ferraris in the desert, and I figure we can hit a strip joint or two and a couple of casinos. ”
A few days I can handle.
“Sounds like a dream. Whatever you want,” I say.
“They’ve got some decent-priced flights in a month, so we thought we’d get onto it.”
“Yup. Let’s book this shit.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
SOPHIE
Thank God Rocco left after that phone call, because I was about to burst into tears in front of him. I don’t cry in front of anyone.
So much he said is true.
How can I get to where I want to be if I haven’t even got a decent job? How am I going to support myself without one? How can I even contemplate having a child if I can’t even take care of myself? I can’t even afford one. I’m daydreaming when I should be pushing myself.
Rocco is right. I’m not trying hard enough. I’m in the same place as I was with Bonnie. No further ahead. What am I actually doing with my life? Am I using Prince Fuckface as an excuse not to push myself?
Thank God I’m meeting up with April today, because I need a friend. I’m glad I have at least one person I can rely on to tell it to me straight. It’s time I faced this future of mine head on, but I need to work out how to do it.
****
“Spence and I are thinking of doing a joint bucks-hens trip to Vegas,” April says, and a beaming grin spreads across her face.
Oh boy.
I’m far from excited. I hope the look on my face doesn’t convey that. Vegas equals big bucks. It means time off work. How the hell can I tell my best friend that I can’t go? Some maid of honour I am.
“Babe, I—”
“We’re paying for you on frequent flyer points, Soph. I won’t hear another thing about it.”
“Fuck, I can’t have you do that for me. It’s not right.”
“Spencer and I have a shitload of points. You’re my best friend, Soph, and I’m not doing this without you. We’re gonna do Vegas, baby!” She launches at me, giving me a huge hug.
“I don’t think there’ll be many girls, but you and Vicky are definite. At the end of the day, if you two are there with me I’ll be one happy hen.”
In other words, I’m going. There’s no negotiation here.
“I floated the idea with Eevie this morning,” April continues. “The poor girl had to run to the bathroom in the middle of the call to throw up. She’s about eight weeks pregnant and having terrible morning sickness, so she’s out.”
I can’t help but smile, but then comes the pang in my stomach. “That’s great news. About the baby … not the sickness.”
“Yeah, I know. Those two make beautiful babies.”
Babies. I swear my ovaries just sighed.
“So you’re good with Vegas?” She nods as if she’s trying to send me not-so-subliminal messages.
The problem is what kind of friend am I if I let her pay my way?
“Yes, of course I’m there, but I’ll pay you back,” I say.
“No, you won’t, so shut your face.”
I let out an exasperated sigh. I know she’s never going to let me back out of this. It makes me love this woman even more. “Tell me more about this grand plan of yours.”
A tiny squeal escapes her mouth and she claps. “We were thinking that the boys and girls can do their own thing for the first two days, then I think it’d be cool for everyone to get together and do something, like a pool party? That way everyone in the bridal party can spend some more time together before the big day. We just want the wedding to go off without a hitch, you know?”
“Anything you need, babe. I’ll make it work.”
“Have you got a passport?” she asks, taking another pick at the plate of hot chips between us. I scoff to myself. Yeah. I have my fucking passport. I had it all sorted in preparation for my honeymoon. But with a groom MIA, there was no wedding, and no tour of Europe for me. It was going to be the trip of a lifetime.