Page 4 of Chaos & Corruption

Cancer would’ve inevitably killed him, I know that. But after that riot, he was treated inhumanely in that prison. They withheld his pain meds, beat him, and starved him. When the warden found him, his body was cold, and he was lying in a pool of his own waste. They killed him—robbed him of the little time he had left—and who knows, maybe he had it in him to live another year. If that were the case, then he would’ve been alive to see me born. We would’ve had at least one picture together. Albeit it would’ve been in prison with one of those tacky backdrops, but it’d still be one memory I could call my own.

She pats my cheek gently and I sigh, pushing those thoughts to the back of my head. Then she lowers her hands from my face and takes the frame.

“I’ll put it on your dresser in the bedroom if your brother and uncle ever finish getting the furniture in,” she says, setting the frame on top of the stack of freshly folded towels.

Bringing her gaze back to me, she eyes the sheet I folded last.

“That’s not how you fold a fitted sheet, dear.”

I glance at the sheet I’ve somehow managed to roll into a ball. It looks fine to me, but even I can admit it’s definitely not up to Grandma’s standards. Doing her best to mask the horror in her face, she takes it from my hand and offers me a smile.

“Here, why don’t I finish with the linens while you go help your aunts unpack the pots and pans?”

I laugh.

That’s grandma’s polite way of telling me I’ll never cut it as a housewife. It’s okay, I don’t mind hanging with my aunts. Out of all the women here Aunt Lauren and Aunt Nikki are the most laid back. They don’t care if the linens match or if the books are placed on the shelf in alphabetical order. They’re here for the wine and that much is proven when I enter the kitchen and find them clinking the Lolita wine glasses they bought me as a housewarming present.

“Grandma Grace dismissed me,” I say, sliding onto one of the kitchen stools.

Aunt Nikki smirks around the rim of her glass.

“What’d you do?”

“I attempted to fold a fitted sheet.”

Lowering her glass, Aunt Lauren balks at me.

“Overachiever.”

She isn’t wrong. Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve always pushed myself to be the best at everything and anything I set my mind to. It didn’t matter if I had an interest for it or just a wild hair, if there was something someone thought I couldn’t do, I’d work day and night to prove them wrong. It’s been very effective the last twenty years, but I’m willing to make an exception where the fitted sheet is concerned. There are some things better left unmastered.

My mom walks into the kitchenette just then, a frown working her naturally full lips. I remember growing up I’d look at her and hope I’d be as beautiful as her. The powers that be must’ve been listening to me because I inherited some of her best features, like her wavy brown hair and her almond-shaped eyes. My lips aren’t as pouty as hers, but our mouths are shaped the same and I also got her freakishly long eyelashes.

“Anthony’s going to kill Wolf,” my mom says on a sigh.

Coming to stand between my two aunts, she snatches the wine glass from Aunt Lauren’s hand and takes a gulp. I glance over my shoulder, diverting my attention to the connecting living room where Grandpa Wolf sits on the couch barking orders at my dad.

Those two have an odd relationship as it is, they’re constantly butting heads over one thing or another. Mom says it’s because dad is overprotective when it comes to Grandma Maria. You see, my biological grandfather took off after my aunt was born, leaving grandma to raise her and my dad by herself. She struggled a lot and when my dad got older, he tried to be the man of the house. He started working for the mob and he’d leave envelopes full of cash around the house for my grandma to find. He thought he was helping her pay the bills, but she had saved every cent. When my dad got out of jail, grandma gave him the bank book and that’s how my dad opened his first boxing gym.

Grandma didn’t actually meet Grandpa Wolf until my aunt Lauren was shot—that’s a whole different story, one we won’t get into— but at the time Grandpa wasn’t the president of the Satan’s Knights motorcycle club, he was just a member like Uncle Riggs and he would hang around the hospital in case grandma or Riggs needed something.

Years after that, they ran into each other again and they started dating. It’s funny because they are total opposites. Grandma is all about fancy clothes and throw pillows and Grandpa is leather and motor oil. That’s why he calls her Lady. Anyway, my dad had a difficult time accepting their relationship, but after he saw how devoted Grandpa was to Grandma when she was diagnosed with breast cancer, he shut up. Now they fight about trivial things like where to hang my flat-screen television.

“A little to the left,” Grandpa instructs.

“I had it to the left and you told me to move it to the right,” Dad growls.

“You went too far,” Grandpa returns. “Lady, tell him it’s not centered.”

“It’s not centered, Anthony,” Grandma Maria agrees. “But can you do that later? I want to hang these pictures in Victoria’s bedroom.”

Yeah, he’s definitely going to kill him. He might off grandma too.

“Tell Riggs to hang the pictures in the bedroom,” Dad grinds out, adjusting the television on the wall. He pauses and turns his head, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Where the hell is Riggs anyway?”

“He’s introducing himself to the neighbors,” Aunt Lauren supplies.

My eyes widen and I spin back to my aunt.She didn’t just say that, did she?

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