Leigh
Through all of Sunday, I tried to keep my mind occupied.
Unfortunately, that was an enormously difficult task considering I was alone and didn’t have to work.
I went on plenty of walks. I caught up on pretty much all of my TV shows. I even read a couple books, something I was a bit embarrassed to admit I hadn’t done in a long time.
It was all in an attempt to not psyche myself out, to not fear the worst for Sonny or for Hailey and Melissa. But in the end, it didn’t eliminate; it merely suppressed. And the thing about suppression, as I’d learned through my wild lifestyle, was that it either manifested itself in ugly behavior, or it exploded to the surface.
By the time the late afternoon had hit, I was a hot mess, basically talking to myself out loud about why certain things weren’t a big deal when they actually were. Late afternoon was becoming the time when it went from “this won’t be so bad” to “I better be careful, or this will be bad.”
And it all went to shit when the darkness came.
There was just something about the nighttime that, ironically, brought stressful emotions out of the shadows and into the light. Maybe the defenses raised during the day had just gotten beaten down. Maybe there was something about the darkness that forced my way in. Whatever the case was, I knew I wasn’t going to bed without hearing from Sonny or one of the Cook girls at some point.
But I knew just waiting for it to happen was an exercise in stress. My father hadn’t done much for me, but one of the few valuable life lessons he’d provided me at a young age was “the best way to help yourself is to help others.”
And so, roughly half an hour after eight o’clock, despite feeling emotionally exhausted and knowing my body just wanted to curl up on the couch and wait for the workday the next day, I headed to my car so I could go visit Hailey and Melissa.
* * *
They didn’t even know I was coming until I texted them in the parking lot. Melissa, not surprisingly, responded. I was starting to worry about Hailey’s mental state, but what was I supposed to do? Tell her that this level of concern for her boyfriend was damaging her? When her boyfriend was in a coma?
I met them in the cafe, and their expressions seemed to have hardened to an even greater degree than what I remembered. Melissa looked exhausted, probably from having to play babysitter to Hailey. It wasn’t even like Hailey had work to distract herself with, since her “work” was mostly self-run stuff.
But Hailey, though…I hated to say it, but she looked hopeless.
Yes, hopeless.
Maybe there was something about Satan’s condition I didn’t know; I’d thought he just needed time. And it had only been a few days, and I knew comas could last absurd amounts of time. But…
“Hey,” I said in a tone that I hoped didn’t come across as overly cheerful. “Sunday night. Do you want to grab some food? Somewhere nicer than a hospital cafe?”
“I’m not leaving here,” Hailey said.
I grimaced. My approach had failed. I just needed to be present right now—nothing more, nothing—
“And their clubhouse got blown up.”
What?
“What?”
“Did you not hear all the sirens when you pulled up? Did you not hear the loud boom? Did you not see the smoke?”
I…I’d heard some sirens on my walk up, but I was near a hospital, for goodness’ sake; it would have been more unsettling if there had been no sirens going off.
“It happened maybe ten, fifteen minutes ago. Some of the men died.”
“Jesus.”
“Sonny and Spawn are fine, but…it sounded like a trap. I think they’re in really rough shape.”
Holy fuck.
I couldn’t imagine any scenario now in which Sonny would want to resume anything romantic. His father was in a coma. His club was blown to smithereens. His friends were dying.
And now he wanted to add me to the list of potential casualties?
