Just Like That (The Kings)

My phone rang before 5:00 a.m.

I groaned and cursed whoever was on the line. My eyes ached from lack of sleep, and the muscles in my neck were screaming at me.

When Abel’s name flashed across the screen, I sat up, wiping the sleep from my eyes.

“Hey.” I grunted to clear the fatigue from my throat.

“It’s Dad.” His voice was stone.

“He’s already out?” My blood was cold and my brain was running through dozens of scenarios.

“Not exactly. I’ll explain on the way.” Abel hung up before I could ask any follow-up questions.

Annoyed by my brother’s cryptic statement, I took a quick cold shower and got dressed. I scribbled a note for Hazel and tucked it under the windshield wiper of the skoolie just as Abel’s truck turned down my driveway.

He lowered his window. “Let’s go.”

I climbed in as he passed me a to-go cup of hot black coffee. “Thanks.”

“You’re gonna need it.” Abel reversed down the driveway and started on the highway out of town.

“Where to? To be honest, I am not in the mood to see Dad, so if that’s what you’re planning⁠—”

“Fuck no,” Abel scoffed. There was no love lost between Abel and Dad, that much was clear. “But we are headed to the correctional facility. Something happened last night.” He glanced at me. “I got a call early this morning. It was big.”

On the quiet drive, my fingers drummed an erratic rhythm on my thigh. It was before visiting hours and the guard eyed us warily.

Abel leaned out the window. “We have a summons from this attorney.” He handed the guard a business card. “He said it was an emergency.”

The guard spoke into the radio on his chest and, after a moment, let us pass. We entered the building and walked into the lobby.

I leaned toward my brother. “What the fuck is going on?”

Abel looked around, knowing there was an infinite number of eyes and ears. “Remember Oliver Pendergrass?”

My eyes narrowed. “The guy you shared a cell with? I thought he got out.”

Abel grunted. “He found himself in some trouble. I got a call from his lawyer this morning, and he specifically requested we both show up.”

Confused but intrigued, I waited until we were called back. In an eerily similar room to the one I’d assaulted my father in, we walked toward Pendergrass’s lawyer.

Abel shook his hand. “I’m Abel King.” He gestured toward me. “This is my brother JP.”

“Gentlemen.” The attorney shook our hands and let loose a deep sigh. “My client has requested to speak with you before his placement into solitary confinement. He is being considered a danger to himself and others. Would you like an armed guard present?”

I looked at my brother, who only shook his head.

The attorney appeared tired and annoyed. “Fine. I’ll send him in.”

When he disappeared behind the door, I leaned toward my brother. “What the hell is happening?”

Abel was hard as stone. “I have no idea.”

Moments later, Oliver was led in, shackled at the wrists and ankles. A wide grin spread across his face.

“Ollie.” Abel stepped forward.

Oliver gestured toward the table. “Please. Sit.”

The guard added a shackle, bolting him to the table.

He laughed and rolled his eyes. “Such drama queens around here. I’m not going to hurt my friends.”

The guard didn’t comment, but his eyes flicked up to us. Moments later, we were alone in a room with Oliver.

Abel spoke first. “What’s going on, man?”

Oliver nodded and pressed his lips together. He stomped his foot and tried to pound on the table to get someone’s attention. “Hey!” he called out. “Can I get my suit and tie back in here?”

He was making enough of a racket that the door pulled open and his lawyer stepped inside the room. “Did you bring it?”

The attorney stifled an eye roll and returned with a single plastic cup with two fingers of what smelled like bourbon.

Oliver scoffed at his lawyer. “Kind of stingy on the pour, but I guess thanks is in order.”

His attorney’s eyes flicked toward the camera in the corner of the room. “Don’t forget who’s watching. Keep your mouth shut until the red light goes out.”

“Ah,” he scoffed. “Too late for secrets, bud. Now leave me with my friends.”

When we were alone again, Oliver sighed and looked us over. The three of us waited in silence until the little red dot on the camera blinked off.

Oliver exhaled and looked at Abel. “You deserve to hear it from me. I did it. I took care of him for you.”

My eyes narrowed as Abel’s voice remained frighteningly calm. “Took care of how?”

Oliver’s hand jerked up twice, the chains rattling and restricting his movements. “Shiv to the kidneys. One to the lung so he couldn’t cry out.” He sat back in his chair with a satisfied grin. “It was masterful. Artwork.”

“You attacked our father?” My attention intensified as the words settled over me. “How did you get a weapon past the guards?”

“Made it.” Oliver’s eyes glittered with delight. “Plastic toothbrush rubbed against the concrete to file it to a point. Saw that in a movie once . . . surprisingly effective.”

Abel stared at his friend.

“Is he dead?” I asked. Unclear emotions coursed through me.

Oliver’s shoulders bounced. “That was kind of the point. Oh!” His eyes brightened and he sat straighter. “What about the other two? The old men. Want me to—” He clicked his tongue and made a slicing gesture toward his throat.

“Jesus, Ollie,” Abel groaned. “No. You’ve done enough.”

This is unbelievable.

I eyed Oliver, trying to figure him out. I gestured toward the cup as my stomach bunched. “If you’re so pleased with yourself, then what’s with the alcohol?”

Oliver’s attention was drawn to the plastic cup in front of him. He leaned down, gripping it with his teeth and shooting it backward. Once the booze was gone, he opened his mouth with an audible ahh and the cup tumbled to the ground. “I’m disinfecting from the inside out—emotional disinfectant.” He chuckled at his own joke. “Just because I’m a killer doesn’t mean I don’t feel a little bad about it. I have a conscience . . . kind of.”

Unamused, Abel’s head hung low, his shoulders rolled in a defeated slump. “You were almost out, Ollie.”

Oliver shrugged, but his mouth was turned down. “The world is changing and I don’t care for that. Here, I’ve got three meals, a bed, work. I know who my friends are. The only skill I’ve learned here is how to survive here.” He gestured toward the window. “I can’t use that out there. Out there, I’m an unemployable felon. I can’t get housing. A job. In here I’m somebody. I matter. It’s where I belong.”

Abel’s voice wavered as he looked at his friend. “I told you that I’d have your back when you got out.”

“You’re a good man, Abel. You’ve always been a good friend to me. You protected me in prison when meatheads tried to run me through. But we’re even now.” He tried to hold out his hand, but it was restricted by the shackles. “We’re even, brother.”

Abel stared at his hand and finally filled it with his own.

I lifted my chin. “We won’t press charges.” The two looked at me. “If he is dead, we’re next of kin. We will not be pursuing charges.”

Abel jerked his head in my direction, and he gave Oliver a sad smile. “I told you he wasn’t all bad.”

Still, the realist in me knew this battle wasn’t over for Oliver. “The state’s attorney is another issue. They could go after you even if, as the family, we don’t.”

“What about his other family?” Abel ground out the bitter words.

My jaw clenched. They were an entity I had altogether tried to forget about. We had only recently discovered my father had a family in Chicago—a wife who appeared comfortable looking the other way so long as the money kept rolling in and adult children we knew nothing about. His lies and deceit seemed endless.

I shook my head. “That will be for them to decide. They can worry about his messes for once.”

Oliver shrugged, seemingly unaffected by how bad this all was for him. “Even if they do come after me, Abel made enough friends here to ensure they keep their mouths shut. Depending on what was caught on security cameras, I’ll get some years added, but like I said . . . staying was kind of the point.”

Abel stood and clamped a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You take care of yourself.”

“You too,” he replied. “Kiss the wife and kids for me.”

Abel shook his head and I followed him to the exit. Abel’s fist knocked on the door, and it was opened for us.

Oliver’s attorney looked up from his phone with a solemn expression. “We just received word from the hospital. Your father has succumbed to his injuries.”