Prologue
8 years ago
Will flew through the house like a storm, which certainly wasn’t good for the already shitty foundation. Gathering stashes of money that I didn’t know about, which meant Josh didn’t know. It was clear; he’d been planning this for a while. But, I don’t think he intended to take me with him. At least not until he saw Josh riding around on the back of Clayton Brown’s squatted truck, waving a sawed off shotgun in the air. At first, I thought he was drunk. Or high. But when we locked eyes, I knew he was sober as a deadman. That was when Will yanked me in the house. He tossed a suitcase at me so hard, my bones rattled and purple blemishes blossomed on my porcelain skin.
We didn’t have much. We grew up poorer than poor, if that’s such a thing. Anytime there was a hurricane, we feared it would sweep the house up in its wake, yet the worst that happened was the roof of Nana’s old room caved in. Daddy tried to fix it. But when Mama offered him a bump, he decided the powdery substance was preferable to preventing a flooded bedroom.
“I don’t understand,” I told Will, shoving my only nice dress into the luggage. “Why would he join The Tall Grass Boys? I thought he hated ‘em just as much as we did.”
Will shrugs. “Motherfuckers do crazy shit for a quick buck. The sooner you learn that, the better, Care.”
Will was always trying to hide he was as southern as the rest of us when he spoke. Mimicked the accents of Northerners he’d hear on the radio, or whenever we managed to get a signal on the TV’s busted antenna. When he told me he wanted to go up to New York, it didn’t shock me. If anything, it just confirmed what I knew deep down. He wanted to get out of Alabama just as much as I did.
The only car we had was Will’s beat up 1994 Sedan he’d bought off of his dad, for $500. Uncle Vic immediately spent it buying drugs for him, Aunt Stacy, Uncle Brooks, Mama and Daddy. One measly suitcase held everything we owned. Other than that, all we had was the clothes on our back and a dream in our hearts. Dreams of a better life.
Mama and Daddy didn’t even know I left. They were passed out in the kitchen, liquor spilling onto the floor in a puddle around their bare feet. In moments of desperation, when they couldn’t afford another bottle, they’d lick it up, craving the dull high it provided. As long as I live, I don’t think I’ll ever understand it.
Familiar sights passed us by, rolling into the past, into a life we’d never lead again. Will stared ahead, still tense. Both of us knew Josh would be enraged the moment he realized we skipped town. But that’s what happens when a gang member lives in your house. At least, that’s what happens when you live in The Bends. The Tall Grass Boys were notorious for stealing, and killing, pillaging along the way. It didn’t matter if you were a stranger, or the family of one of their own. Everyone was a target. The moment Josh got into Clayton’s car, all of our fates were sealed and our paths diverged. Will didn’t want them to kill him. I didn’t want them to rape me. Josh wanted the easy way out.
Will drove by a house where boys in a rainbow of balaclavas charged out, beating their chests and shouting like madmen. Their hands were coated in scarlet, scarlet that decorated their clothes and exposed flesh. That’s The Tall Grass Boys for you. Preying on the innocent. A little old lady and her only son lived there. That poor boy never walked again, and the state of his mother was so horrific he cremated her. That’s The Bends. You have four options. Escape. Kill. Die. Shoot up. Nothing in between.
2 Months Ago
When Emilio Madsen demandes your presence before him, the wise decision is to rush over as soon as humanly possible. But when your name is Nik Madsen, you take your sweet time, even for your own father. His summons irritated me more than anything, as it came after a particularly tedious meeting about last minute changes to our roadshow, where I nearly fired half of Madsen International's staff for bumbling incompetence. So whatever Father needed, it have better been damn good and served up on a silver fucking platter.
As I pulled into the driveway, two realizations washed over me. First, my brothers weren't there, so Father wasn't going to tear into us about our respective companies. Second, their lack of attendance spelled out certain doom for my temperament. I gave myself a moment to recollect and steel myself for whatever bothersome stunt he's cooked up this time. One could only hope Mother hadn't involved herself. If so, crashing my car into the nearest building sounded like bliss.
To get to Father's office, one must first pass through the living room. Lounging on one of the loveseats with a sun hat pulled over her face was my clearly hungover younger sister. I chuckled and approached her, lifting the hat just enough to view her disgruntled expression. "Party a little too hard? Couldn't hold your vodka?"
Tara scowled. “Fuck you.”
“Love you too,” I barked out a laugh and continued my trek to Father’s office.
Much to my surprise, and immediate displeasure, he wasn't alone. Lovely. Father conversed quietly with Mother, watching her like a wolf guarding his territory. They aren't what one would call a love match. A marriage of convenience that produced three heirs for each of the Madsen companies, and a fourth baby they never intended to have. But we all appreciated Tara's chaotic presence.
Sitting in one of the dark brown, tall-back leather chairs in front of his desk was a woman I’ve never seen. Fuck. She looked up at me, her green eyes drinking me in, scrutinizing every visible trait, and questioning the ones she couldn’t see. Sizing me up.
My face immediately contorted into a grimace. “Father, you’re kidding.”
He finally glanced my way, an eyebrow raised. “To what are you referring?”
“Her,” I spat out, no concern for how the woman would take it. If this was what I believed it to be, driving her away would be the ideal scenario.
Father looked at me like I had grown a second head. In his mind, I probably had. “Nikolai, we’ve had this conversation for the last twelve years. If you did not find a suitable wife for yourself, your mother and I would. And so we have done.”
“I’m a grown fucking man,” I retorted. “What makes you think I’ll cave to your, quite frankly, incredulous demand.”
“Your father put in a lot of work for this arrangement, Nikolai. You should be thankful, your reputation precedes you,” Mother chimed in. I glared at her.
“Should you fail to marry Ms. Irvine within the next year, I’ll withdraw my offer of resigning as chairman of the board so you can step into the role.” Father delivered his ultimatum coldly, the same coldness he instilled within my brothers and I. To him, this was nothing more than a business deal. Insurance that I’d continue the bloodline.
He knew that I wouldn't turn down the deal. That the only thing holding me back from total control of Madsen International was his spot on the board. The other board members bent to the chairman's will, as they knew they could easily be replaced by a better kissass. I stand there, glowering, resentment festering and snapping like a furious beast. I wanted to storm out and only return on my terms. But that wasn't an option. Personal happiness wasn't an option in our world. Personal happiness wasn't an option for The Madsens.
The woman, who I now identified as Delaney Irvine, heiress to Divine Cosmetics, smirked up at me. “Don’t worry. I promise, we’ll have a very fruitful marriage.”
For the first time in my life, I seriously considered blowing my brains out.
