Sinner's Revenge(71)
“Oh like you haven’t ever thought of killing me,” she says, avoiding the question altogether. I decide I don’t really want to know the answer. We all have to die sometime anyway. I guess yesterday just wasn’t my day.
The silence drags on, both Diem and I lost in our own deep thoughts. We’re both tired, but too anxious to sleep. There’s something comforting about sitting on this porch with her by my side. I look over at her, for the first time really taking notice of the similarities between her and Dirk—the black hair, dark hazel eyes, olive complexion, and not to mention the shitty attitude. If he knew he had a sister, I’m sure he’d forbid me to even look at her. But I can’t help but feel like he’s looking down on both of us, proud that we found each other. In the most fucked-up kind of way, we worked.
“Would you like to see his grave?” I ask Diem, reaching out to take her hand and bring it to my lips. She nods, and I lead her to the backyard where the grass is beginning to grow over the two mounds of dirt. I watch her as she reads the hand-carved wooden crosses that mark the heads of Dirk’s and Saylor’s graves.
“I’ve never felt more joy than when I watched Cyrus take his last breath,” she whispers. “I wanted him to suffer, but I couldn’t stand the thought of him still being here, alive, when my brother was dead and gone. I never hesitated. Is something wrong with me?”
Her eyes search mine for some kind of understanding or truth. But I don’t have it to tell. “I ask myself that question every day. You just have to find your own solution. It’s the only way to keep you from going insane.”
“What’s your solution?” she asks, staring up at me with wide, patient eyes full of empathy.
“I love hard. Too hard. I tell myself I do it because I care. I wrong those who have wronged the ones I love. My club, my brothers, and my girl. I’ll kill any and every motherfucker that hurts them. And I don’t feel regret because in my fucked-up brain, I believe they deserve it.” Looking down at Dirk’s grave, I feel the same joy Diem does. I’m glad Cyrus is dead. I’m glad Death Mob is too. And if I had to do it all over again, I would.
Diem blows out a breath, moving her neck from side to side. “Okay,” she says, slapping me on the arm. “Enough of this sappy shit. I’m hungry. And we’re getting along too well. It’s weird and you’re getting boring.” She walks toward the house, and I watch her ass sway from side to side, leaving me feeling guilty considering I’m standing at the foot of her brother’s grave.
“Yeah,” I call after her. “You need to change too. You look like a slut in that dress.”
“Yeah?” she yells over her shoulder. “Well your breath smells like dog shit.”
Damn it feels good to get back to normal.
* * *
The normalcy lasts all of one minute, which is the amount of time it takes to get back to the house. Now we’re standing at the threshold waiting to walk in and our emotions are crashing through us like waves once again.
“Maybe a cigarette before we go in?” Diem suggests. I agree and light us a smoke. She doesn’t ask, but I know she wants to know everything about her brother, so I start from the beginning.
“Your dad put Dirk in the care of a man who raised him until he was seven. He then called Roach, who was once Nationals president for Sinner’s Creed. The man who owned this house and raised Dirk as his grandson owed a favor to Roach, so he took Dirk in. Roach thought it would help change him. It didn’t.” I take a seat in one of the chairs, and she sits in the other, fully invested in the story.
“What do you mean change him?”
“He was a real asshole. Treated Dirk like shit, but it made him strong. Black made him the man he was.”
“Black?” she asks, confused.
“Yeah. Like death. Like nothing.” I take a drag from my cigarette, hoping the nicotine will help calm my own emotions when I think about a life that might have been better for Dirk if his daddy wasn’t such a chickenshit.
We sit and I know she’s looking at me, but she isn’t pushing, so I take my time. When I feel like I’m as ready as I’m gonna get, I stand and lead her inside. I watch her face as she takes it all in. By the surprised look, I’m guessing it’s not what she expected. “Saylor knew Dirk had a lot of bad memories here, so she remodeled the house and they made new ones here together.”
“What’s all this?” she asks, pointing to all the covers and pillows on the floor.
“The Friday before Saylor died, she wanted to have a sleepover with her closest friends. Me, Rookie, Carrie, and two of Saylor’s other friends stayed. We all slept here together.” I don’t look at her. I just stare at the spot I laid in and remembered the last time I looked at Saylor. She’d shot me a wink and told me she loved me.