Page 51 of Kings Have No Mercy
“What’s that angry stare down for? You want one? I added some liquor to mine.”
“This isn’t some joyride adventure,” I say.
“Ah, lighten up, Mace. It might not be ajoyride, but no need to be akilljoy.”
As Velma says this, I become aware of the fact that I’m grinding my teeth. My stance is rigid and defensive, like I’m prepared to take somebody out if need be. On the inside I’m all built up tension and pressure.
It’s because of what lies ahead—a confrontation with Tom.
Maybe not aphysicalone. But still a face-to-face encounter for the first time in months.
I never answer Velma. Nobody gets the complexities of our relationship except maybe Cash, who has his own shit going with his old man.
Sydney’s laugh catches my attention. I turn around and find her and Cash chatting by the side of the truck.
I love him like a brother. As much as I loved Logan.
But I’d be a fucking liar if I said a ball of rage doesn’t surge through me at the sight of him and Sydney so friendly.
Cash with his shoulder-length golden hair and blue eyes charming Sydney like he always does with women. She’s taunting me, leaning against the truck, her back to me so I’m forced to notice how her tight jeans hug that fat ass of hers.
I should stride over and slam my palm right into it. At full strength… hard enough to bruise. Embarrass the hell out of her in broad daylight. Then take her around back and fuck the shit out of her.
These are the angry thoughts on my mind as we regroup and hit the road again.
This time, I speed all the way ahead of the truck. At one point, Cash honks at me.
I rev my engine and blast off without a look back.
The deeper into the afternoon it gets, the more heat blazes in the air. The sun chases after us, offering no shade and showing no mercy.
It’s a quarter past two by the time the giant gray building that’s the penitentiary rises into view, protected by razor-sharp barbed wire fencing.
I have half a mind to keep going and skip out on visiting Tom altogether.
…he’d deserve it.
* * *
Velma leads the charge into the visitor’s center. We’re given name tags that we’re supposed to wear on our chests to identify ourselves.
Sydney and Cash hang behind in the lobby. The rest of us move into the meeting area.
“Go ahead,” Cash says. “They’re limiting time per person. I’d just take up time you and Velma can have with him.”
I pause and consider staying behind too until Tito slaps a hand to my back.
“Vamanos,mi cuate. He’d want to see you.”
The three of us move on without them. Velma struts a step ahead and goes first when he appears from the door on the opposite side of the room.
Tom and I have never looked alike.
I take more after Mom and her side of the family. Reddish brown hair, dark green eyes, and a warmer skin tone.
Logan was always the one who looked more like Tom.
They both had that dimpled smile, baby blue eyes thing going on. Except with time and age, Tom’s gained so many lines to his face, the dimples on his cheek hardly stand out anymore.