Page 37 of Levee

“But there’s no decent social safety nets to help people rise out of poverty,” she filled in. “This area could really use some outreach programs for at-risk youths. Try to break the cycle of the local drug dealers getting their claws into the kids when they’re still in elementary school. Did you or your friends…” she started, then trailed off, worried she was asking something inappropriate.

“No. I mean, don’t get me wrong, we considered it. All of us came from shitty homes with no money. It was tempting as fuck. But we all knew that once you got in, you were in for life. And we wanted more freedom than that.

“Seeley got out way before us. Linked up with the bikers. Then once he proved himself, he brought us in too. And Ama, she got herself out thanks to college. Became a doctor. She actually runs the clinic in this area. Her way of trying to do good for the people around here.”

“Lily talked about that clinic being a lifesaver,” she said, smiling. “So where do you all live now?”

“Out in Golden Glades,” I told her.

“Oh, wow. I guessed I figured you were closer than that.”

“The club started in Miami. There was a car repair shop that also worked as an apartment building. But, uh, it… burned down.”

That was mostly true.

It actually exploded.

But admitting that would require an outright lie if I didn’t want to tell her it had been deliberately destroyed.

“Then the president decided to move somewhere that they could get a little more bang for his buck. Plus, it has a pool.”

“Ugh. That’s ideal with the heat around here,” she said.

“If you ever want to come swim, you can drop by anytime you want,” I invited.

“To swim naked?” she said, smirking.

“I will never judge you for your choice of bathing attire,” I confirmed, getting a tinkling little laugh out of her.

“I might just have to take you up on that,” she said as she finished up her bagel. “Hey, Levee,” she said, suddenly seeming serious again, her pretty eyes going as haunted as they’d been earlier, “can I ask—“

“Fuck! Oh, fuck fuck fucker!” my uncle’s voice yelled from across the hall, making both of us stiffen.

We were frozen in place for a moment, unsure if my uncle was just being his grouchy self, or if it was something more serious than that.

But then there was a cry for help that had us both turning and running across the hall.

I pushed the door open first, rushing into my uncle’s apartment to find him slumped back against the counter clutching his hand.

It was the blood that sent my adrenaline shooting through my system.

On the butcher’s knife. The cutting board. The countertop. His shirt. Leaking down his arm.

“Oh, God,” Jade gulped, looking a little green. Not great at the sight of blood. That was good to know.

“Let me see,” I demanded, moving forward and reaching for his hand.

“No.”

“You called for help,” I reminded him.

“Not from you.”

“Well, tough shit. You got me,” I said, grabbing his arm and pulling it closer to inspect the wound.

It wasn’t my favorite part of being in the club, but because of my line of work, I’d seen some gnarly wounds before. So while it was a nasty, deep wound, the contents of my stomach stayed where they belonged.

“Fuck,” I said. “Doll, can you hand me a dishcloth?” I asked, gesturing toward the drawer.

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