Chapter 81: Smart Girls Get The Worst One Yet

Marley

TJ breaks down over the news about Daemon. Bodie comforts him, because I cannot. Darius stares at them for a long moment, and then walks out, wandering down the empty street in front of the country hospital as dawn breaks. I follow, Adam on my heels.

Bodie overtakes us all, catching Darius. He wants us to go back inside, for TJ, but I lose my shit and I scream at him to take us home right now.

Something indecipherable passes from Bodie to Adam, and Adam once again leads Darius away with the lure of calling Gwen again. Maybe I shouldn't be surprised, but Bodie tells me he can't take us home right now. He says Sixmob has business that can't wait.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I say quietly.

"Do you think there is anywhere I want to be except with you and Darius?" Bodie is calm in the quiet morning. "This is still a house of cards, baby. I can trust you to do your part. I can't trust any Sixer now, that Daemon is dead. They are all wild cards without a leader to bind them. I have to lock them down, so we can finally be done with this."

Oh my god, he can't be serious. It sounds exactly like Bodie means to step into Daemon's shoes and become Sixmob's leader.

I shake my head, stepping away from him. "I.Am.Done.With.This.Now."

"Jasm—"

He reaches for me, but I break his attempt to pull me to him violently, my hands coming up to strike at him.

I shove him. "Don't fucking call me that! I'm not her! I can't be her anymore!" Just as I pushed him away, I now advance on him. "Do you not see what we have done to our son!?!?! Because Jasmine loves you?"

He stands perfectly still against my rage. "Yes," he says simply.

"You lied to me so many fucking times."

"I told you from the beginning there were things I couldn't—"

"You knew! You knew about the paternity test. I saw it on your face when TJ confessed!" I hiss.

"I knew TJ was planning to switch the samples. I never knew the result. I never knew you kept him. Not until the night Cain Priestly died. That's the truth."

"Like the truth matters now!?!?" I scream, shoving him again. "Everything we have is based on lies!You've never done anything but lie to me!!!"

I move wildly, I don't know if I mean to shove him or claw him. He grabs my hands.

"Like you never lied to me? You were lying to me the minute I met you. I fell in love with a lie and a cheat! And nearly every lie I've told these last two years, baby, you were lying with me! We are just alike, me and you, don't you fucking forget it."

"Fuck you!" I scream through tears.

"Fuck me is right, because I love you. Lying, cheating, conniving little girl that you were, I loved you. Fierce survivor that you've become, I love you. And you love me," he growls, shaking me by my hands.

The security guard from the hospital entrance is approaching us, hand on his gun.

"Ma'am, is this man bothering you?"

I'm screaming and hitting, but obviously Bodie is the bad guy here, because I look white and he doesn't. Bodie rolls his eyes and lets me go, holding up his hands.

"This is my girlfriend. We just lost a family member to violence. She's upset."

The cop looks at me for confirmation.

I nod, folding into Bodie's chest compliantly, because the last thing he needs is a hassle with a rent-a-cop. His arms go around me.

"I'm so sorry, baby. So sorry for everything you've been through. You have every right to be angry and confused."

I'm confused all right. Why am I holding onto Bodie, protecting him from conflict with the security guard? Why do I always play the ride-or-die? Why do I always rush to defend him as a victim of addiction, discrimination, isolation from his band, Daemon, and the fucking IRA.

Because you are co-dependent, Dr Watkins says.

For once I don't tell her to shut-up.

The security guard walks away and I disentangle from Bodie.

"I can't do this right now—"

"I know, baby."

Adam drives us home.

The blood comes off in the shower—I don't even know whose blood it is anymore.

When I get out, I smell bacon downstairs.

Darius is already showered, wolfing down pancakes and bacon and apparently using his Ipad to communicate with Gwen on a texting app. Adam is silently alternating between flipping pancakes and looking at his own phone, which is alerting constantly. Occasionally he fires off a rapid text. I sit down and stare at Darius.

Every few seconds, he drops his fork and thumbs on the giant keyboard of the Ipad. After the third time his fork falls on his plate, I grab it. If I hear that clattering noise one more time I will go insane.

He looks up at me. "Can I have my fork please?"

"How can you eat?"

Darius blinks. "Because...I'm hungry?"

"You saw eleven people killed," I whisper.

"Nine of 'em deserved it," he growls. "I'm sad for Malik. I'm sorry for Mama Pat, and Dana. But Daemon?" He holds out his hands. His own gifted hands, and I know he is thinking of Row's injury. "I dunno...maybe it was his fate. He died like he lived. Violently. Maybe he would have even preferred that, than going to back to prison."

Even though Darius' own emotions mirror mine, I feel sick at his assessment of the situation. He is a child, he shouldn't have this kind of ruthless perspective.

"Oh my god. You're just like them." I feel tears falling.

"Like who?"

"Your fathers. All of them."

"That ain't a bad thing. All my fathers kept you and me alive tonight."

"All your fathers are the reason we were there in the first place!!!"

"Jasmine should have thought about that sixteen years ago," he says coldly.

Adam sits down at the table. His hand fold over mine at the same time he grips Darius' forehand.

"It's a been a long night. A fucking terrible night. When bad things happens, the easiest thing in the world is to take out our pain on the people we love most. You see that's what you are doing, right? Both of you?"

I begin to cry. Darius puts his head in his hands. Adam prays. We sit there a long time, listening to Adam's murmured offerings, more like a soothing mantra than a supplication to god, really.

Eventually I catch myself falling asleep, elbow sliding off the table. Darius rises, takes my hand, takes me upstairs, tucks my into my bed and lies on top of the covers, holding my hand. He sings me a lullaby.

Roles reversed.

When he's done, I murmur. "We both need trauma counseling."

"A fuck ton," he agrees. "Probably some kind of light worker, too. Couldn't hurt."

He sounds so much like Leed to me, in that moment. I laugh and cry some more. He sighs and shushes me with more lullaby.

When I wake, Darius has been replaced by Bodie, who is lying on his side, eyes roving my face, like he's memorizing me.

"You're here."

He kisses my forehead, then rolls on his back, a long, frightening sigh deflating him.

"For now."

I prop up on an elbow.

"What does that mean?"

He doesn't look at me. He stares at the ceiling.

"There's one more lie of omission I've been keeping from you."

Blood rushes to my head, his words sound strange, but I comprehend them perfectly.

"The Feds have already submitted a preliminary report that Lorcan's cell was killed in a siege by an Atlanta street gang in a dispute a drug deal gone bad. Casualties on both sides, but the cell was surrounded, pinned down and there were no survivors.

"Unfortunately, I am the only connection between Lorcan's cell and that street gang. As far as the leaders of IRA are concerned, I'm the only person left on the planet that can really tell them what they will want to know—what happened to Lorcan Sully, one of the favored sons. So either I get picked up by the Feds or I answer to the IRA. I've known it would come to this all along..."

My whole being goes cold. "Witness protection? Is that you are talking about? That won't work, you're famous, we'll all be in danger--"

He shakes his head. "I know. The Feds know that too. So it's the same gig I had before. Except last time, I actually didn't rat, and this time I'll only be pretending that I didn't rat, for appearances to the IRA."

I sit up on the side of the bed, turning my back to him, putting my feet on the floor. I have to have my feet on the floor right now.

"Jail, you mean." I say it to the wall but it feels like the walls are closing in on me. "You're going to jail for international drug trafficking? Oh my god, Bodie...that's like...a life sentence."

"It would be, except they don't have any proof. So they'll do what they always do, to nail a drug dealer without material evidence. They'll get me on a lesser charge."

I look over my shoulder at him, still panicking. Yet he's calm, his hands on his stomach, his eyes following the ceiling fan.

"What...what lesser charge!?!?" My words are high, whiny.

"Conspiracy to commit a gang conceived murder. It didn't really happen like that of course, but it doesn't matter, because I'll take a plea down to conspiracy to conceal manslaughter and obstruction of justice, and I am guilty of both those things. The deal's been pre-set for a long time now. I'll get three years, and I'll be out in eighteen months at most, if the Feds keep their end up. But I'll serve time and the IRA will see that as proof that I didn't rat."

"You're going to jail for covering up Cain Priestly's death?" I whisper.

"Yeah," he breaths out, long and easy. "I've known this was the endgame for a while. I...I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to agonize over it. But now, the way things are...everything that's happened...maybe...maybe this is okay. It's pretty obvious we need a break..."

"Are you going to jail and breaking up with me? You're just...abandoning us?"

He chuckles in a disconnected way, and that's when I realize that he's either so exhausted or so traumatized that he's a little loopy.

"You're so crazy girl. Earlier, you said you can't love me anymore. Fine. We don't have to break up," he says mildly. "We could get married instead. Quick-like, I mean. I think they will take me into custody day after tomorrow, before the IRA could mobilize to kidnap me again..."

I jump from the bed and whirl, fists clenched. "Are you fucking insane?"

"Well you did say ride or die, but I won't hold you to it, baby..." he yawns and rubs his eyes. "I love you enough to do what you need right now...whatever it takes...let you go or take you forever...whatever makes you feel safe and happy...fuck, I'm so tired I'm seeing funny spots..."

Unbelievably, he falls asleep.

I creep from the bedside and crawl into a chair in the corner. I stare at him, just like I stared at Darius for eating pancakes.

How can he just...accept going to jail so calmly?

How can Bodie sleep so peacefully after proposing we either break up or get married?

And did he just trump Adam and definitely give the world's worst proposal?

I go around and around in my thoughts and remember he got hit with a lead pipe. Well that definitely explains it. He has a concussion and he doesn't know what he's saying. He definitely didn't mean that part about getting married.

I spend the next few hours watching him sleep. Whenever I think about him going to jail, I creep to the bed and lay beside him. Then I think of all the blood and all the horror and all the dead and I feel like I'm betraying my son, and creep down the hall, and check on Darius, now asleep in his own bed.

I go back and forth, back and forth, gently opening and closing doors. I didn't realize anyone was still here but security, so it surprises me when Adam is waiting on me in the upper hall on a return trip from Darius' room.

"There are eight guys outside. Half our guys, half Varrick's friends in the CIA, dressed like our guys. Darius is safe. Bodie is safe. You're safe, Sweetheart." He pulls me across the distance to him, embracing me gently.

"It's not just that. It's also...Bodie said we should maybe break up. Or get married tomorrow." My words are flat, toneless.

Adam rubs my back. "That sounds... well...I would say it sounds crazy but you know...Mac and I got married about two minutes after deciding. Twice. But you guys don't roll like we do, so what's up with that?"

"I don't think he meant it. He got hit with a lead pipe and he's exhausted."

"Oh, okay. Well there's time, right? No rush. You guys have been through some crazy shit, I can see why things might seem a little urgent between you. But maybe you should take it easy, sort it all out gently..."

"He's going to jail in two days time. So he's not pegged as a rat in an international drug trafficking operation.  He's been part of a sting ever since for almost two years--muling drugs.  He wanted to send Daemon back to jail, but it...snowballed and those guys that Varrick killed? They weren't just a rival gang. They were IRA."

Adam stops rubbing my back. He peels me away looking at me with a face like an owls.

"You're not...serious?"

I nod and burst into tears.

"Christ. Come on. You don't have to stop crying, but I have to call the guys . We have to have a band meeting."

We sit on the couch, Adam calling everyone, while I blubber and answer as many questions as I can.

Then he tosses his phone down and I fall apart while he shoulders my tears.