Flock (The Ravenhood)
Chapter 23

Dominic is here to pick me up tonight. I have no idea why, but he’s in my driveway staring at me as I descend the steps, his features impassable. Nerves fire off as I round his hood. He doesn’t have the decency to open the door for me like Sean does before I climb into his passenger seat.

“Where’s Sean?”

He takes off in reply while I glower at the side of his head. My day is not improving at all with his surprise arrival. It was Sean I hoped would balm and distract me from my argument with my father. The last thing I want to do on my day off is spar with this motherfucker.

“Seriously, man. Words.”

“Sean is busy. I’m doing him a favor.”

“I could have driven.”

“Well, you aren’t.”

“You could let me drive now.”

“Not a chance.”

“I’ve been practicing in Sean’s Nova. I’ve gotten better.”

He smirks. “You think so?”

“Know so.”

Wrong words. Those were the wrong words to say.

In zero to a hundred and twenty, the bastard has me screeching at the top of my lungs as he fully opens up his dark horse’s capabilities. This driving is nothing like the thrill ride that he took me on the first night. I’m terrified as he flies down the road with absolutely no regard for his life or mine.

“Okay, point made. You’re the king, okay? Slow the hell down, please.”

He nails the few curves before he hits the straightaway as sweat gathers on every surface of my body.

“This isn’t funny!”

He cranks up the music as we pass a small gas station.

“Dominic, please. Please!”

I’m truly terrified, and he glances my way before he crosses the yellow lines and slows considerably.

“Thanks for reducing speed, but we are not in Europe, Dominic!” I shriek, white-knuckling every available surface before he pulls the emergency brake and turns, banking us on a shoulder doing a complete one-eighty. I’m fairly sure I just pissed a little as we race in the opposite direction.

“Forgot something,” is his excuse as he slides to a halt perfectly between a minivan and pickup at the beat-up station.

I’m in a full-blown panic attack at this point as he turns to me. “Need anything?”

“You motherfucker!”

“Not in the mood for foreplay at the moment, but how about a Mountain Dew?”

I’m a millisecond from launching myself at him when he graces me with his bored expression. “I’ll take that as a no.”

He walks toward the store, and I’ve never seen a more perfect depiction of full swagger as I do in Dominic’s gait. I glance around the sketchy looking store and fight my bladder. The drive to wherever we’re going will no doubt take twenty minutes. It always does here. I decide to go for it and get out of the car. Dominic is in the cooler section when I walk up to the counter that sits next to an oversized LIVE BAIT sign and ask the attendant for a key. Next to me, a few older men sit perched in outdated black plastic chairs while continually pressing buttons on old lottery machines like their lives depend on it. Taking the key, I exit the building and walk around the corner to the battered door before suffering through thirty of the most disgusting seconds of my life. I wash my hands with syrupy looking soap and exit the bathroom with the oversized key in hand. I’m halfway to the door to return it when a guy blocks my path. He nods over his shoulder to Dominic’s Camaro.

“Nice ride.”

“Thanks.”

“Yours?”

The man has to be in his late forties, his pot belly on full display due to his T-shirt riding up and riddled with something resembling ketchup. He reeks of liquor. I side-step him and he blocks me, his eyes rolling down me in a disgusting and predatorial way. Booze has obviously given him way too much false confidence.

“No, the car isn’t mine, excuse me.”

“I used to race back in the day. Just wanted to—”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence because olive fingers wrap around the side of his neck, and the arm attached to it launches him into the side of the building. I grimace at the sick smack of flesh to concrete as the man’s eyes go wide and he stumbles, his legs twisting awkwardly before he falls flat on his ass. Dominic doesn’t so much as glance his way as he snatches the key from me.

“Get in the car.” An order that leaves absolutely no room for argument.

Eyes bulging, I haul ass to his Camaro and lock myself inside. I look to see the man still struggling to get up as Dominic joins me and takes off without so much as acknowledging what just happened.

I crane my neck, relieved to see the man stumbling back into the store. “Was that really necessary?”

“Yes. They have to have the key back to let someone else piss on the seat.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re unbelievable.”

We take an unfamiliar route as the sun starts to set and my driver remains mute. After a series of turns, I’m completely lost as Dominic slows on a crowded street full of young thugs and scantily dressed girls huddled on the corners. Government housing lines either side of us as we creep through and every head turns our way before their eyes dip down.

“Why are we here?”

“Errands.”

“Look, to each their own, but I want no part of drugs, or whatever business brings you here, you can take me home and come back.”

His jaw clenches as a guy in a ball cap salutes him, stepping off the curb. Dominic rolls down his window and lifts his chin.

“What’s good, man?” the guy says, eyeing me, his grin growing wider. “What do you got here? New girl?”

Dominic’s reply is ice. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

I hear the unmistakable cock of a gun next to me. My eyes go wide when I see the Glock in Dominic’s grip before he lays it across his lap. I have no idea where it came from.

“I told you I don’t like company, RB.”

The guy looks over his shoulder to see another man approaching and turns to him. “Step back, right now, motherfucker, I told you I have this.” The guy eyes Dominic carefully and steps back onto the curb.

“Sorry, man, he’s a young buck, my little nephew. I told his stupid ass to stay put.” He reaches into his pocket and Dominic’s venom stops him.

“The fuck you doing?”

“Sorry, man, just wanted to get straight.”

“Then I guess you need to see Friar. I’m not driving back through here again. We clear?”

RB holds up his hands. “Been meaning to. I swear,” he nods over his shoulder. “Car is fucked again. See?”

Dominic eyes the Chevy on cinderblocks in the driveway behind him.

“Get it to the shop. We’ll work it out.”

“Thanks, man. I wanted to ask—”

Dominic jerks his chin and the guy takes a step back from the car before he pulls away.

“So, you are a drug dealer. Jesus, I should have known.” I don’t know why, but I’m disappointed. I thought better of him and maybe I shouldn’t have. But why the hell would a graduate of a prestigious school resort to something so fucking dangerous and juvenile? It’s equivalent to a dumb as hell NFL millionaire playing thug games and losing his life in search of street credit. And I waste no time voicing as much. “You know you have a golden ticket out of here. Jesus, Dominic, I thought you were better than this petty shit.”

He slows at the stop sign, and everyone within feet of the car takes a step away, keeping their eyes down. Dominic leans over, his eyes on mine and his breath hits my skin, as his finger brushes my leg before he opens the glove box. My neck prickles as silver eyes infiltrate mine and my chest starts to rise and fall quicker. His gaze drops to my lips, and the air crackles thick as I run my tongue along my bottom lip. Adrenaline spikes in my blood when he lingers for long seconds before he smirks and pulls back, tossing a piece of paper in my lap. I pick it up and read. It’s a concealed gun permit for one Jean Dominic King.

“Jean, huh? Doesn’t get much more French than that.”

He rips the permit from my hand and locks both the glove box with the gun and permit tucked safely behind it.

“So you have a permit, whatever. Doesn’t change the fact that I want no part of your shady shit.”

He takes a left, and then another, getting us out of the questionable neighborhood. “Did you see an exchange of money?”

“No.”

“Drugs?”

“No.”

“Did I point my fucking gun at anyone?”

“No.”

He tilts his head in my direction, brow arched. “Was a crime of any kind committed?”

“No.”

“Then the only shady one in this car is you.”

“How so?”

“Because it’s your fucking brain working overtime, making assumptions you have no grounds to make.”

“You don’t know me.”

“Government housing and a corner conversation, and you drew the worst conclusions.” He takes off and drives wordlessly while I search the previous conversation and come up blank. The guy was obviously trying to give him something. Money or drugs, I’m sure of it. But, who in the hell is the Friar?

It’s pointless to ask, even though I know I haven’t offended Dominic, I doubt anything does. He seems impenetrable.

“Why am I with you?”

“You got better things to do? A Kardashian episode to watch?”

“I don’t watch that.”

“One more errand and I’ll get you to your boyfriend.”

“Can you, just for once, be decent to me?”

He ignores me as we pull into a parking lot. I look up to see we’re at a medical center. Dominic circles the valet, leaves the car running and rounds the front, opening my door. “Get in the back.”

I don’t bother asking questions and climb into the back seat, wishing I could shoot off a hostile text to Sean. But I have no phone because I’m following his damned rules while being forced to entertain his maniac ‘brother.’

Ten minutes later, Dominic reappears through the sliding glass doors, and he isn’t alone. A woman whose age is indiscernible due to her weakened physical state is being ushered in a wheelchair by a nurse. When they get close enough, I can hear the back and forth.

“Pourquoi tu n’es pas venu me chercher avec ma voiture?” Why didn’t you pick me up in my car?

I can’t understand what she’s saying, but her displeasure at the sight of his car and his reply—in an endearing tone I’ve never heard—makes it clear.

“I’ve got it at the shop, Tatie. I told you this.”

Tatie. Aunt.

Her eyes replace mine as she stands with Dominic’s help. Upon closer inspection, she looks aged well beyond her years. I’m guessing somewhere in her early forties. However, it’s apparent in her eyes and the pallor of her skin that she’s been through it. Possibly by her own hand or the unforgiving hand of sickness, maybe both.

“Who are you?” Her accent is thick, and I make it a point to brush up on my French.

“Hi, I’m Cecelia.”

She turns to Dominic. “Ta copine?” Your girlfriend?

This, I understand and I answer for myself. “Non.” No.

She harrumphs as Dominic helps her into the front seat.

“Comment ça va?”

“English, Tatie, and we aren’t talking about that tonight.” Dominic never speaks French, which is odd because of his ‘Frenchman’ nickname. Maybe it’s for lack of competent company.

He eyes me and shuts the door, rounding the car. Those few seconds alone with her intimidate the hell out of me. Though sickly, she commands an air of respect. I keep my mouth shut and am surprisingly relieved when Dominic is back behind the wheel. A few minutes of silence ensue as I study her and the resemblance between the two of them. It’s there, especially if I picture her a few years younger with more life in her eyes, her frame. When she speaks up, her question is directed to me.

“Why did you come?”

“She’s Sean’s girlfriend, I’m giving her a ride,” Dominic offers as we pull up to a pharmacy drive-thru. The cashier greets Dominic, her face lighting up like Christmas. Beneath her white jacket she sports a risqué dress, her face painted up like she’s going out for a night on the town, rather than working a respectable shift as a professional. He’s mildly pleasant with her which only pisses me off. He pays for the medications and asks for a water which the girl supplies, her ample breasts on display as she graces us all with a view.

“Salope,” Dominic’s aunt says with clear disdain. I know it’s an insult to the girl trying to give us something resembling a window pole dance. I try to hide my grin, but Dominic eyes me in the rearview and doesn’t miss it. I swear I see his lips twitch. He’s so impossible to read, this man. We pull up just a car length past the window and he opens the bag, palming some of the medication, handing her a dose with the water.

“I’m not a child.”

“Take it.” His voice is full of command.

Grumbling, she takes the pills and swallows. I see his lips tilt up again as he studies her, his eyes shining with the closest thing I’ve seen to affection from him. I feel that look pierce the surface of my skin, the warmth and respect he’s showing her satisfying some need inside me. Like I knew it was there and needed confirmation.

“How many more treatments?” she asks.

“We’ve been over this. Six.”

“Putain.” Fuck.

I laugh out loud because I know that one.

“Je ne veux plus de ce poison. Laisse-moi mourir.” I don’t want this poison anymore. Just let me die.

“English, Tatie.” He wants me privy to their exchange. Since when is Dominic so considerate?

“Put me in a box and forget me.”

“I would have when I was younger. You were a horrible parent.”

“That’s why I didn’t have children.” She turns to him, lifting her chin defiantly. “I was barely twenty when I took you. You did not starve. You—”

“Hush, Tatie,” he gives her the side-eye, “let’s get you home and comfortable.”

“No such thing with this sickness. I don’t know why you take me.”

“Because my first murder attempts failed, and you’ve grown on me.”

“That’s only because you honor your parents.”

He swallows, and we ride in amicable silence for a few minutes before Dominic turns into a small driveway. His headlights beam on a Cape Cod-style house with overgrown plants on the porch, most of them dying.

“Stay,” he gets out of the car and points to her where she sits in her seat. She doesn’t say a word to me. Dominic opens the door and lifts her easily. I get out and he looks over his shoulder.

“No, stay, I’ll be back in a minute.”

I ignore him and scramble to the porch to open the screen door.

“Ha, I like her,” his aunt says, scanning me in the dim light from the streetlamp. Dominic curses as he holds her against him and fumbles with the keys before he hands them to me. I hold each key up until he nods at one and then twist it in the lock and walk in, turning on the closest light and can’t help but cringe at the scattering of a few roaches on the wall. This is the house Dominic grew up in?

Dominic walks her to an old beige recliner, and she sighs in relief when they get there. She kicks back, and he spreads a blanket over her lap before disappearing down a hall.

“You’re looking at him the same way as the girl was at the pharmacy.”

“He’s hard not to notice,” I admit truthfully, “but getting easier to ignore with his sunny disposition.”

I carefully assess the house while trying not to make it obvious what I’m doing. It’s nothing but old furniture in need of a thorough dusting, cleaning, and extermination. I don’t know how she expects to get well in an environment that’s anything but sterile, but from what she said in the car, she’s not intent on a recovery. She examines me from her chair and I return her stare, just as curious. She’s reading me, and she’s doing it with Dominic’s silver eyes. The resemblance is most definitely there. Early forties at most, I decide as I stare her down. It’s tragic. She’s too young not to fight.

“Can I get you anything? More water?”

“Please.”

I move to the kitchen and click on the overhead light. More roaches scatter, making my stomach turn. There are only a few dishes in the sink and my skin crawls as I search the cabinets for a clean glass. I open the freezer, which reeks and grab a few ice cubes, tossing them into the glass before turning on the tap. I set the water on the small wooden table with a built-in lamp sitting beside her. She clicks it on and picks up a thick leather book—a French Bible, littered with tattered bookmarks.

Dominic strolls back in with a Monday through Sunday pillbox and a plastic garbage can. He sets the pills on her table, and the can within her reach.

“All separated. Take them, Tatie, or you’ll get sicker.” He chuckles when he sees the Bible. “Too late for you, witch.”

I expect her to gasp or get indignant. Instead, she laughs with him. “If there’s a back door into heaven, maybe I’ll replace it for you too.”

“Maybe I don’t agree with His politics,” Dominic says, his timber full of mirth.

“Maybe He doesn’t agree with yours, doesn’t mean He can’t be an ally. And you forget, I know you. And stop separating my pills, I’m not an invalid.”

“You’re doing a good job getting there. Don’t drink tonight,” Dominic orders, entirely dismissing the spiritual part of the conversation. “I’m not searching the house, but if you do, you know what will happen.”

“Yeah, yeah, go,” she shoos him away. I hear the distinct clink of a bottle beneath her rocker as she adjusts her position in the seat and Dominic makes himself busy with the TV remote. He didn’t hear it, but her eyes meet mine in challenge and I quickly decide it’s not my battle.

“Should we stay?” I ask her, genuinely concerned. All of my chemo aftermath knowledge has been gained from books or soul-crushing movies, and from what I’ve gathered, people get violently ill after a round.

“Not my first time,” she says. “Go, the night is young and so are you, don’t waste it.”

“You are too,” Dominic mutters, flipping through the channels.

I walk over to where she sits and kneel down on the over-stressed carpet. I don’t know what in the hell possesses me to do it, but I do, maybe it’s her living situation or the state she’s in. Her predominately black hair is pulled back into a braid, her olive complexion deeply etched with life, the small wrinkles around her mouth defined with remnants of her lipstick. She looks breakable, her frame meek, her under eyes outlined by her sickness. But it’s her eyes alone that shine with her youth, the same metallic shade as her nephew. They pin me curiously as I lean in on a whisper.

“Romans 8:38-39.”

She navigates to the passage easily and to my surprise, reads it aloud.

“For I am sure that neither death nor life,” she whispers softly, “nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

She looks up at me, her eyes flitting with emotion, mainly fear. “Do you believe that’s true?”

“Those are the only verses I’ve memorized. So I guess, maybe, I want to believe it.” It’s clear as she studies me, she does too.

She looks past me at Dominic, who I can feel standing behind me. “Elle est trop belle. Trop intelligente. Mais trop jeune. Cette fille sera ta perte…” She is too beautiful. Too smart. But too young. This girl will be your undoing.

My eyes drift up to Dominic whose face remains impassive. Frustrated that I can’t make out more than a few words of what’s been said, I stand.

“It was nice meeting you.”

She waves us away and we move toward the door. I look back at her, just before we clear the doorway and I see it, the slight lift at the corner of her lips. It’s Dominic’s smile, and a part of me lifts at the sight of it.

A few minutes into another silent drive, I turn down Dominic’s blaring radio. “What happened to your parents?”

A muscle in his jaw flexes as he flicks me an expression I can’t place.

When he cranks the radio back up and downshifts to gain speed, I know he will entertain no conversation. I observe him, baffled by the shift in his moods, and the utter beauty of the mask he wears along with the secrets he holds so tightly to him. He’s very much like Sean in a sense they both give the bare minimum when questioned, like they took and mastered a fucking class on terse responses. My cheeks puff as I blow out a breath, and I hold the rest of my questions. There’s no point. He’s back to impenetrable, his body language alluding to as much, and I let my thoughts wander until we pull up to the garage.

Dominic parks close to the bay and exits as if he can’t get away from me fast enough, and I sit and watch him walk into the shop without looking back. Today was eventful, to say the least, and slightly insightful.

A flash of fire grabs my attention and I look over and see Sean slapping his Zippo closed through the windshield.

He joins me as I step out of the passenger side. “So, I take it that didn’t go well?”

“Why would you subject me to that man?”

He chuckles lightly, but the humor doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “What’s going on in that head of yours, Pup?”

I wrap my arms around him as he exhales a plume of smoke, careful to avoid my face. “I’m just relieved to see you.”

“That so?” There’s no accusation in his words, but I know he saw me watching his roommate with open curiosity. Then again, he knows Dominic like no one else. He’s got to know how just an hour or two alone with him can be exasperating and exhausting.

Sean tosses his cigarette and pulls me tightly to him, kissing the mystery away. When he pulls back, I grip the back of his hair, hard.

“Why didn’t you pick me up?”

“A couple reasons, one of them being an unanticipated and mandatory work meeting on my day off.”

“Oh, yeah?”

He grins down at me. “You fought well, baby.”

It’s my first real smile of the day.