7 CHAPTER 6: Ravens

The rest of Tuesday and Wednesday passed without much happening. Mr. Paul had since assigned another essay to which I swore I would actually do myself. Mikee and I have been getting rides with Draven to and from school except yesterday and today because he had football practice. I watched him practice a little and he seemed good. Drew, for one, looked like he was creaming himself every time Draven made a good pass or catch I almost felt secondhand embarrassment.

Sasha and I took her banged up Volkswagen to the Underground. We used a descending entrance through the older part of town where no one lived anymore except for a few homeless people. We went through a dim tunnel, lit only by yellow lights every few yards. This entrance was farther, hence the longer travel time. Steel gates almost a meter wide marked the entrance. Security checks involved our IDs, a search of the car, a thorough pat down, and the retina scans. The hall ended at a massive parking lot.

Connected to the lot is one long and wide corridor with graffiti all over its walls. Neon signage told directions on where to go, the halls kept lit below standard which is enough to see where you're going but dark enough to maintain the dark mystery the Underground held. After a short tram ride, guards check identification once again before letting us pass by batches through reinforced concrete and steel doors.

Surrounding the Bay Area were shops like Ro's Hos, a dealership of liquors brought in from all over the world by a network of smugglers loyal to the Underground, my tattoo parlor (although it was a little hidden from the rest as it ran along the sides of one of the alleys that leads deeper down under where formal businesses are handled by the Brothers, and the Underground hospital.

Calling the hospital a ‘hospital’ might be an over exaggeration. It's just great on treating bruises and cuts and sometimes lacerations and bullet wounds when shit gets rough. It's also the hospital Sasha wants to work at because let's face it, it’s the only institution that will let her wear a slutty nurse outfit while actually practicing her profession.

She literally dreamed of treating kids who ODed or something in a tight white dress and a hat you can buy at the Halloween costume aisle.

"Oh, God, I want to end up working in that place and probably bang a patient while he's high," Sasha groaned as we walked past. See my point?

I smiled at her indulgently and somewhat sarcastically. "Yes, because that is normally one's main goal in achieving their degree and diploma in nursing. Not the pay, nor because it's their passion, but because they wanna fuck the living daylights out of their patients, pun intended."

To nobody's surprise, my best friend threw back her head and laughed in true Sasha Jones fashion and slapped me on the ass with a loud smack that made me yelp. "I'll meet you later at your shop, just heading down to buy a few things. Okay?"

I waved her off and she went happily towards the stalls of clothing and other stuff. I hoped she had her ATM card on her because I sure as heck was not letting her borrow my hundreds again.

Tucking my hands in my back pockets, I made the left and started toward the shop. Jeff was leaning against the steel shutters of the tattoo parlor, a lit cigarette in between his lips. He was wearing something I would never have thought he would willingly wear: a shirt and tie tucked inside a knit sweater with another of his blazers muting the strength of his arms and shoulders with black jeans similar to mine, with a pair of Doc Martens to complete the outfit. I admit it worked wonders for him appearance-wise but he looked so out of place.

Jeff looked up when I approached. Kicking himself off the shutters, he took one long drag from the cigarette and flicked it away. He blew smoke out in rings, grinning at the perfect round shapes. "Neat, huh? I'm thinking of buying one of those vape things."

I rolled my eyes. “Just tell me what you need, Payton.”

Jeff shrugged and helped me open up the store. Once inside, he even willingly picked up a mop and a disinfectant spray. I was not expecting that, but really I was just assuming Jeff’s personality. I thought that given he basically ran the whole operation, he’d be way above helping me, a ‘subject’, so to speak. Before I got too weirded out by the whole thing, I decided to prep the needles I might need.

"You know, you're weird," Jeff said after a while of silence.

I tested out the gun, satisfied by the perfect sound. "Definitely," I scoffed sarcastically, "but what in particular now?"

He leaned against the mop, shrugging his shoulders slightly. "Do you have any type of tattoo somewhere on you?"

"Not that I know of."

"Why?"

I smiled. "Haven't found the perfect one yet."

Jeff smirked. "Freaking cheesy you are."

He put back the mop in the supply closet and started on the disinfectant spray. I sat on my usual stool. "So... What is it? And why are you dressed like that?”

Jeff did not answer right away. He took his time to spray disinfectant on the floor with meticulousness I didn’t know he had. I was learning a lot about Jeff Payton, more than I ever thought I would in this lifetime. He was deathly quiet until he finished the whole floor. Like with the mop, he put it back in the closet.

After, he slowly walked over, eyes focused and movement completely controlled, sat on the tattoo chair, and said, "A raven. Small one. Wrist."

Deciding to play along, I asked him if he had any design in mind for the bird when he shook his head and told me to fill it up. It was simple and common enough so I turned the gun on and did my work.

I was about to put the needle to his skin when he gently put a finger on my hand. Startled, I look up. He was so close I could smell the cigarette off him. "Do it right in the middle. It's going to be a picture that you'll have to complete in time." Jeff was stoic when he leaned back. "I'll tell you your bedtime story."

I got the gun and needle ready before taking Jeff's left hand, his dominant hand, and settling it over my lap, adjusting my chair so it looks as if he was holding me in a loose embrace... I blushed. Why the heck was I blushing?!

The sound of the gun did not drown out his gruff voice, nor did it stop from telling me that whatever Jeff was planning to say, I wouldn’t like it.

"Firstly, I was at a wedding, that’s why I’m dressed up in these. Second, I thought I'd be the one to tell you," Jeff started saying, "since you obviously don't know. I'm even surprised you haven't pieced everything yet; maybe it's because you don't like the drama of inconspicuous cities. I don't know. But I have talked with Mikee. You're friends with him."

I paused, confused. Silence grew between us. Clearing my throat, I head for the kill. "It's Draven, isn't it?" I said quietly, the fact dawning on me. "He's the one you have all been talking about."

Jeff nodded. I gave him a weak smile, unsurprised. The timing of it was all too good to be true for it not to be Draven. "I had a feeling. He's been a friend of mine and no matter how long it has been or how much he's changed, I know the boy is not what he seems. Same goes for me. Everyone I know has been leading double lives and it's only natural Draven has too."

Jeff smiled, a small mellow smile that lit a dim light in his eyes. I continued with my task; he continued. "My younger brother Giles is a few years older than him, as you know. They met each other in a fighting tournament two years ago in LA where Giles was sizing up competition. He liked the kid's guts and Blade needed a manager, much like I am with Hale.

"The two worked closely since then, their tandem always victorious in every single fight. Up until LA decided to branch out and take over Las Vegas. Giles was here in New York when it happened but Blade was their front man. And now he's here."

Jeff pressed his lips together, fixing me with a grave stare. "I want you to be wary around him." I opened my mouth to argue but he quieted me with his free hand on my shoulder. “I know, Ashley. But the family needs you to report anything back that might clue us in if he’s still with the LA Underground.”

"Family?" I sputtered out, bewildered. “You’re asking me to spy on my friend!”

"Yes. Family." He cocked his head. "You don't think we're a family?"

I vehemently shook my head no. He gave me a sad look. "We look out for one another, Ashley. The Underground wouldn’t have been what is now if not because we take care of what is ours above all. Fortius quo fidelius."

Strength through loyalty: The Underground's motto.

I could see how the lot of us could be family. The Brothers offered a safe haven for those who struggled above. They offered escape from harsh reality and freedom to be our truest selves and we remained loyal because the Underground all saved us in a way. Those people in the Bay Area selling their wares, it's their way of making it through for the life above and we cared for them by buying. Mikee and the rats save us all by keeping us hidden while everyone did their part and kept their mouths shut.

"What I'm saying is," Jeff said, his eyes sympathetic but his resolve was solid. "Protect who you know best. And I don't think you know your friend as well as you would like to think."

I felt a pang in my chest. Of course, I wasn't stupid enough to think that Draven wasn’t keeping secrets of his own. He probably had lots of terrible things checked on a list somewhere and has been through a rough of patches that shaped him. Although he was still a jerk to me, that’s because it's how he's always been with me.

But what if it was all for show? What if his real Underground family in LA was planning to take over New York next? That hurt me, more than I would ever care to admit out loud because I wanted him to see I was a tough bitch. Given that I was also not being the most honest person out there to him, at least I genuinely cared for him and our friendship. But I don't even know if that's the case for him. I don’t even know if I could trust him.

Carefully cleaning the new tattoo on Jeff's wrist, we locked eyes. I nodded slowly, understanding the situation. He patted my hand with his right one, dug out a hundred, and gave it to me.

“Keep it. I’ll be coming back, remember?”

“Right.”

I pocketed the cash before I realized how awkward it was just standing there with the tattoo chair between us, the crazy neon sign outside and the white light of the lamp I used while working bathing us oddly in a faint shadow. What more is that Jeff was still staring at me, his blue eyes darker than usual.

Jeff cleared his throat and stepped back. I relaxed a little. “I will see you on Saturday.”

I nodded, my face heating up. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’ll be there.”

I watched as he left, torn between two conflicting feelings. First, Draven, my childhood best friend, may or may not have moved back to help stage a whole takeover of the Underground, and as such should I or should I not spy on him? Second, did me and Jeff, technically my boss, just have a moment there, and if so, was the tension sexual or just awkward?

I decided I did not look forward to Saturday where my life would officially be upended.