Page 81 of Back To Our Beginning

Zoe. Focus on Zoe. Remember that barely there dress she was wearing and how she started a brawl that night?

Stay the fuck awake!

I watched as Grizz back-handed Lana and she fell to the floor. “Just how stupid do you think I am? This is the fourth time he’s texted you in twelve hours! Something's up, and we don’t need your shit stinking up our business. Call him back!”

Lana got up off the floor and grabbed Grizz’s arm. “I don’t care about him. If you’d just let me stay at the Blood Ravens compound with you, it wouldn’t matter if I didn’t check in.”

I watched as Grizz shoved Lana away from him and she landed on the floor. “Fine. You want to stay at the compound? Then we put you to work with the other whores. Is that what you want? But you’d probably be too stupid to even be any good. Why? Because you can’t fucking check in with your parole officer! Text him back, Lana!”

Grizz threw her phone at her head. It bounced off it onto the cement floor. She started to cry. Then he turned to me. “And you! Get up off the floor. Bishop and I want some dinner. Since Lana is busy sniveling, you need to cook for us.”

Shit, I didn’t even know if I could make it up off the floor, let alone walk. And he wanted me to cook? This was not going to be good.

He stomped over to me and grabbed my ponytail.

“Wait! I’ll get up. I promise. Don’t hurt me. I’ll get up and cook. My side is bleeding. It’s just going to take a minute.”

“Jesus Christ, another snatch with fucking excuses. You have three minutes to get into the kitchen and start cooking. You better give us something good, otherwise we’ll take something else from you. You understand me?”

I looked up into his glittering eyes, and I understood exactly what he meant.

“I understand.”

“Good.”

Please say my text got through.

He turned to leave, but he took the time to prod Lana with the toe of his boot. “After you send the text, Bishop has a hankering for you in the living room. Get your ass up and wipe the snot off your face. You hear me?”

Lana sat up and nodded. She used the bottom of her tank top to wipe her nose, exposing her breasts. I swallowed back the bile that was rising up.

When Grizz left, she looked over at me with wounded eyes. “Why won’t he take me to live at the compound?”

“You want to be a prostitute?” I couldn’t believe my ears.

“I love him,” she whispered.

God save me.

“Lana, text your parole officer and tell him where we are. Tell him we need help.”

In an instant, her expression changed to maniacal rage. “You fucking cunt! I would never rat out my man. I hope they do fuck you over. I hope they kill you!” She shoved to her feet, and I watched as she furiously texted. Then she went to the door and yelled in a sing-song voice, “Bishop, honey. I’m coming.”

I had to be losing my mind. None of this could be real. I sat up and touched my side.

“Owww,” I moaned. My fingers came away sticky with fresh blood. I grabbed at the work bench and pulled myself up into a standing position, then left the workroom for the first time. Every step was agony.

“Well, there she is, Miss America,” Grizz laughed.

The living room, dining room, and kitchen were all one long room, separated by a kitchen counter. Grizz and Bishop were sitting on the couch, side by side, watching television. Lana was kneeling between Bishop’s knees, doing something I didn’t want to even think about.

I averted my eyes.

“Oh, are you modest?” Grizz laughed.

I ignored him and went into the kitchen and opened the fridge. In one of the chiller drawers, I found some ground beef, but underneath that were rib-eye steaks. Even better. How could they bitch about steaks?

Somebody turned up the TV, blotting out all the other sounds coming from the living room, and I could have wept with relief. I pulled out the steaks and looked around some more. Eventually I found a box of mashed potato mix, butter, some bread and Cheez Whiz. All the makings for a motorcycle gang feast as far as I was concerned.