Mine didn't. Fang's death didn't change a thing. I was still knee deep in the same old shit that began long before the monster pressed his blade to my cheeks.
Big Ed answered to Redding, but he obviously wasn't interested in listening to the new crew leading their mother charter. He had his own agenda. All the bastards in the Klamath charter did, and they were going to make me pay until I was destitute and bloodless.
His bike was already parked outside the nursing home when I got there. A quick stop at the bank turned my hundred dollar check into cold cash, the only thing he'd accept. I added it to a couple hundred more I had waiting for him, hoping it'd be enough to make up for the payments I'd missed last month.
I parked and headed inside. Walking up those stairs was like going into hell. Without Ed, it would've been hard enough seeing my dad screwed up.
With the nasty looking biker hovering in the room like a total thug, it was much worse.
How bad would it be today? Would I have to listen to dad ask me who I was for the thousandth time while Ed stood by, cold and calculating, a grim reminder that there were worse things waiting for my dad than early onset Alzheimer's if I didn't pay up?
They sat in their usual spots when I opened the door to my father's room. There was dad, staring out the window in his wheelchair. Big Ed was sprawled out on the bed. He bounced up with a muscular jerk. His large gut got in the way, and his trademark handlebar mustache twitched angrily, the only thing drawing attention away from his dark eyes.
“What the fuck took so long? I got another run to make before I head home to Klamath tonight. Fucking bitch.” He spat on the floor. “You've been keeping me here all evening.”
I stepped over his spit and reached into my purse, digging for the money as quickly as I could. He watched me while I pulled out the little stash and tore off the money clip. I shoved it into his face, trying not to shake.
“Here. Count it. Everything I promised.”
He flipped through the twenties, letting out a loud snort when he finished counting. “That's it? Babe, you'd better start coughing up a whole lot more if you ever wanna skip these little visits. You're about one dollar over the threshold that keeps me from knocking his fucking teeth out. One.”
Ed growled, pointing to my father. Dad stayed mercifully oblivious, muttering to himself as a little bird landed on a tree branch outside.
“It's everything I have this week,” I whispered, trying to stay calm for my father's sake. “Don't know how I'm even going to make rent, to be honest. I'll have more for you later.”
Big Ed shot up, grabbed me by the shoulders. His hot breath reeked tobacco, sour whiskey, and something else I could never quite identify. It stank plenty.
I was scared for dad, but not for me. Not anymore. Surviving Fang's torture drove away the terror I used to feel when he got up in my face or slammed me against the nearest wall.
“Stop being such an ungrateful cunt! You know I'm doing you a big fucking favor, right? Because we could do things much differently, babe. Trust me.”
“Ed, please.” I pushed against his fat chest, but he only tightened his grip.
Bastard. I pushed harder, the way he always made me struggle, before he finally cut me loose. Too bad it never shut him up.
“I could shut the door behind you, cut his fucking throat, and take you for a ride north on my bike. Shit, we'd probably be doing the old fart a favor. It's not like he knows who the fuck either of us are or what we're up to.” He paused.
My eyelids fluttered shut. I quietly prayed he'd stop. He never did.
“You're a little worn to be a good whore, Christa, but there are plenty brothers in Oregon who'd love to use that firecracker cunt between your legs. A redhead's still a redhead. Doesn't matter if she's got a few scrapes and scratches.” He licked his lips, eyeing the shameful lines on my face.
I shook my head. I was used to crude comments about my natural hair forever, but hearing about the scars was new. Hearing it from Ed's foul mouth was the worse.
“Tell me I'm being a good guy, Chrissy. I wanna hear you say it. You know how fucking easy I'm letting you off? I'm not even asking you to pay for the gas it takes to get down here just to put your tits into a vise. My bros would kick my ass if they knew what a softie I'm being.”
My head snapped up, and we locked eyes. Was he fucking serious? As if this wasn't humiliating enough...
Sigh. I had to spit it out, if only to make him leave sooner.
“You're doing me a favor. You're playing nice. You're the best debt collector a girl could ask for.” I could barely force the words through my clenched teeth.
There. Is that what you wanted, you fucking asshole? I hated when my brain felt like burning coal. Every thought hurt, hot and fierce as moving fire.