“You take your pills today?” He asked, as he leaned against the dresser and crossed his arms against his cut.
“I don’t need no babysitter,” I slurred. “Think I told you to leave, brother.”
“Think I’m the boss around here and I don’t take orders from anyone,” he retorted angrily, pausing for a moment. “What the fuck you doing, Bulldog?”
“What’s it to you?”
“Gonna ask you again, you take your pills?” He questioned hastily, walking toward me and grabbing the photo of my son.
I saw red.
I reached for my picture. He pulled back.
“Give me my fucking son back,” I hollered, lifting my gun and aiming it at him.
“Can’t give you your boy back, Jack. Wish like hell I could,” he replied calmly. He turned around and righted the frame, delicately fixing it so it rested on top of my dresser where it belonged. He turned around and stared back at me. “One more time Jack. Did you take your pills?”
“Yeah,” I ground out, dropping the gun to my side.
I didn’t need anyone to remind me of what I needed to do day after day. The hole in my heart was the reminder, my own personal alarm clock that alerted me every morning to take my medication.
“Good,” he replied, before tipping his chin toward my gun. “You got something happening you want me to rally up the boys for?”
“One-man job, Boss,” I said, shrugging my shoulders and glancing down at the pistol in my hands.
“Why’d you call me here?” Cain asked.
“I need the shit,” I said, lifting my eyes to meet his. He knew what I was asking him but still his eyes questioned mine. “Don’t make me say it.”
“You can’t bring yourself to say it then you ain’t meant to have it,” he retorted.
“The H,” I slurred. “You had your fill, right? Sure you can spare some for a brother in need.”
He stared at me for a moment before taking hold of my arms and turned them over. My gun dropped from my hand as he tugged my sleeves up and exposed my forearms.
“Not a track, not a mark,” he declared, dropping my arms before rolling up his sleeves. “You want this?” He asked angrily, referencing the tracks that trailed up his arms, a reminder of all the years he shot heroine through his veins. “You got a daughter I reckon you haven’t seen in close to a year. You going to let the next time she sees her daddy be at his funeral?”
“I didn’t ask for your input,” I said, through clenched teeth.
“I don’t give a fuck,” he replied. “Wake the fuck up, man. Yeah, it sucks you lost your boy. It’s a pain no man should ever have to live with but you got a little girl who needs her daddy.”
“She has her mama,” I muttered. “My son has no one. He’s in that ground all by himself,” I stated, my voice trailing off and my throat closing.
“So, that’s the plan? You going to join your boy in his grave?”
That was the plan. He knew it and so did I. The thing was I had no problem pulling the trigger on someone else but I was too much of a coward to take my own life. I tried several times but every time I closed my eyes and lifted the gun to my mouth I saw my daughter’s face.
“Look at me, Bulldog,” he whispered. “You’ll never see your boy grow into a man but do you want to miss out on that beautiful girl of yours too? She’s a looker, Jack, going to have bastards like us banging down her door to get a piece of her. With you gone, no one will be there to filter through the shit and find her the one that deserves her heart.”
I ran my fingers through my hair and diverted my eyes to the ceiling. My tears blurred my vision as his words sliced through me, inflicting doubt where I was sure there was none left.
I tapped my knuckles against the table as I reminisced about the man who saved my life. Cain knew he was living on borrowed time that night, knew it was only a matter of time before the drugs caught up with him. All those years of using, swapping dirty needles and what have you, finally caught up with him and he contracted Hepatitis C. Two years later, Cain was diagnosed with stage four liver cancer. The doctors gave him six to eight weeks. He survived two.
I was voted in as president of the Satan’s Knights the same day Cain passed.
I leaned back in my chair, reached into my jeans and pulled out a pack of Marlboros as a knock sounded on the door. I lifted my head as I lit my cigarette and tipped my chin to my vice president, Blackie.