Page 4 of Oz Wisdom

Now what did she do? She had no home to go to. And she couldn't even return to the club where she had been living.

"Get up."

Taylor lifted her head from her knees and looked up through the stream of tears blurring her vision. Brick. Where had he come from?

"Up,” he demanded again.

Her legs trembled as she pushed to her feet, praying for them to hold her and swiping at her eyes. She hoped to appear stronger than she felt. But at this moment, she felt pretty hopeless.

"What's your part?" he barked.

"My part?"

He nodded & glanced back toward the small crowd.

"I had nothing to do with any of it. We were going inside to the restroom. That's all. We know not to talk to anyone. Much less someone from another club. I didn't hear what she said. Her voice was low. But apparently, he saw her though the window. He knocked her around for it. Then went after your friend. It's a blur, it happened so fast.” Taylor brushed a tear from her cheek and sucked in a breath. "That's when she jumped in front of the gun and…and went down.”

"Taylor!"

Taylor titled her head to peer past Brick. Nealy. They had worked together some time ago at the bank.

Brick's arm shot out, stopping his wife from reaching Taylor.

"You remember Taylor," Nealy snapped.

"I do."

Nealy cut her eyes toward him. "Well.” She pushed his arm away, apparently ignoring the low growl radiating from him.

"Are you okay?”

Taylor glanced down, following Nealy's line of sight. Blood. She had not noticed it until now. "It's not mine."

Reluctantly, Taylor relaxed against Nealy when she pulled her in for a hug. “I’m glad you’re okay. I hate this all happened but you're here now. You're alright. Come sit down. Can I get you anything?”

There was that rumble coming from Brick again. Louder this time. Taylor was positive he didn't approve and refused to look his way. "I should go."

"Absolutely not. Come with me. We'll get you cleaned up and something to drink. Then we'll figure out what to do.”

"I would appreciate a restroom. I could wash up.” Taylor finally glanced up toward Brick’s. "If that's alright."

He said nothing but turned away.

"Of course that's alright,” Nealy told her.

Taylor forced her feet to move as she studied this woman who had no reason to help her. Her smile defied her red and puffy eyes. "You knew Chelle, too."

"I did."

Taylor tried to look away but couldn't. As they neared the table where Chelle lay, her steps faltered. Maybe she'd misinterpreted the situation. She was across the grounds and not standing nearby. Her friend could have passed out. Or they could have given her something for the pain that made her sleep. Nealy's arm fell from her shoulder as Taylor eased toward the still body in front of her. Someone stepped aside giving her a path to move forward. Chatter met her ears, but her focus was so intent on her friend the voices were only static.

Hope clawed at her guts. The only person she had learned she could trust appeared so peaceful. Her eyes closed and her recently bleached hair splayed out around her head like a halo. Taylor knew Chelle was far from an angel, but she had become Taylor's angel as of late. If not for the blood-soaked clothes and the sobbing brunette clenching her hand, Taylor would argue she had only passed out.

Taylor’s hand trembled as she reached forward. Carefully, as if not to wake Chelle, she placed her palm on her leg. Warmth. Wasn't the dead cold? Her mind went to war again searching and clawing at reasoning. She eased forward and took the free hand from where it rested against her stomach and held it. Warm. Sticky from the blood, but warm. She gave a slight squeeze. Limp. Drugs. Drugs did that. She jerked her head up searching for answers. She didn't know these men. She had seen them from time to time from afar but did not know them. Her focus landed on one face. A kind face offering no judgement. The very one that brought her here. Slowly, he shook his head. No. This wasn't what she wanted. She didn't want confirmation. She wanted hope. His face blurred. Her chest ached. Tears bathed her cheeks again and her body felt numb.

"Let's go inside." Nealy wrapped her arm around Taylor guiding her away and toward the clubhouse.

Taylor followed, blindly scrambling for thoughts, for something to make sense. Better yet, that she'd wake up from a dream. Correction. Nightmare.

---