Page 49 of Roma King
Pasha waits.
I listen to his even, calm breathing on the other end of the line.
My chest feels like it’s being crushed. The walls feel like they’re closing in.
I hear other sounds, then: the gentle clink of a set of keys. Fabric rubbing against fabric.
I haven’t spoken for a full minute, when he whispers quietly into my ear. “Tell me where you are, Firefly. I’m coming to you.”
19
PASHA
BLOOD
I’ve only just arrived at the sports bar, but it looks like I’ll be leaving already. I exit the bathroom, jacket already on, keys already in my back pocket. Patrin glowers at me from the other side of the bar, the woman he was talking to a moment ago gone now. He’s holding two beers, one in either hand, one of them obviously for me, but by the look of displeasure on his face, he knows I won’t be drinking it.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” he snarls. “You can’t fucking bail now. Jamus and Sam are being arraigned. We need a fucking plan.”
I arch an eyebrow at him. “I’m sorry, but I know all about your plans. They’re usually insane and involve breaking the law.”
Patrin’s eyes flash with steel. “Youmight have resigned yourself to being trapped in a cage, but at least you can walk out of that loft of yours whenever you feel like it. Jamus and Sam…their cage is infinitely smaller than yours. Andtheycan’t just open up the door and leave whenever they feel like it. They’re looking at life, Pasha.Life. It’ll fucking kill them.”
I hear him. I know what he’s saying is the truth. Prison is just about the worst thing that can happen to a Roma who is used to wandering wherever they please. Even we don’t lock people up in our own legal system. Banishment is the most severe punishment we ever sentence anyone with. But there really is nothing I can do here. Bowing my head, I stare down at my sneakers.
“They should have thought about that before they got pinched, then, shouldn’t they? It’s one thing, tricking someone out of their money if they’re gullible enough. But a fucking bank?” I shake my head. “There’s no negotiating with thegadjelegal system.”
Fire burns in my friend’s eyes. We’ve traveled all over this country together, side by side, always had each other’s back, brothers in arms, but things are different now and he knows it. “You’re not going to do anything, then?” he fumes.
“Like what? Break them out? Send them a fucking birthday cake with a spoon baked inside it? Tell me one sane thing I can do in this situation, and I’ll do it. But I willnotdrive up to a maximum-security prison, back a fucking van through the wall, and go hunting for two incredibly dumb needles in a very large, well defended haystack.”
Patrin puts the beers down onto the bar, his hands hanging loosely at his sides. I know he’s going to try and hit me now. I sigh, canting my head to one side, giving him a reproving look. “Don’t, brother. Just…don’t.”
He’s a brawler. A bruiser. His right hook has knocked whole rows of teeth out in one go before, but he’s no match for me. We’re both well aware of this fact. I watch as his anger dissolves into hurt. “When you cut the head off a snake, brother, two more donotgrow back. We’re all waiting for you. We’re all holding our breath, but soon we’re gonna run out of air. If you don’t get your shit together soon, it won’t just be your mother who has to live with the shame. It won’t just be me, because I keep defending you. It’ll be the whole clan.” He narrows his eyes. “Can you live with that?”
My ribs cinch tight beneath my skin. A sharp pain lances through my heart. I place my hand on Patrin’s shoulder, squeezing hard. “You don’t need to defend me anymore,” I growl. “I don’t need it.”
“You don’t understand,” Patrin says. “Something’s happened. Something Shelta hasn’t told you. The predictions are coming true.”
“Whatever’s happened doesn’t affect me anymore. Turn my blood. Make megadje. I don’t care anymore. I’m not the man you need right now.”
Patrin’s horror is painful to behold, so I turn away from it. A coward’s move, maybe, but I’m getting used to that shame-filled sting; I’ve turned my back on a lot of things over the past three years. It was supposed to be like ripping a Band Aid off, short and sharp and unpleasant, but then it would have gotten easier. Easier for me, and easier for them, too. Except letting go is not the Roma way, and I was a fucking fool to believe they would ever allow me to walk away for good.
“Turn your fucking blood?Have you lost your goddamn mind, Pasha? You’re the fucking king!” Patrin yells over the sound of the football game that’s playing on all of the bar’s TVs. “Pasha? PASHA! Where the fuck are you going?”
I doubt he hears me, but Idoanswer him. “To try and fix something that’s notcompletelyfucked.”
* * *
The rain’s almost blinding as I take a left on Baker and hurtle through the night. She hadn’t wanted me to come, but she’d relented in the end. The girl with the fiery hair had been close to tears; there was nothing she could have done to stop me from showing up on her doorstep. Not two hours ago, I managed to convince myself that staying away from Zara would be the best thing for her, and I wouldn’t have broken that vow. I would have steered clear of her, if it meant her life would be easier on her. Kinder.
But I’d heard the pain in her voice. She’d been upset. Afraid, even? And I can’t walk away from her if she’s in trouble. No fucking way. Especially if she’s upset or afraid because of me, indirectly or otherwise. And why would she have calledmeif I’m not responsible for whatever is troubling her in some way?
I park the Mustang opposite her building, outside the bar where she was drinking fucking apple juice the other night, of all things, and I get out, placing a cigarette in my mouth as I stare up at the third story window. I don’t feel the rain. I need a moment to gather my thoughts, so I light the smoke and I inhale, shielding the paper from the downpour with my hand. The lights are on up there. She’s maybe in the living room or the bathroom, worrying about what’s going to happen once I show up. She’s probably freaking the fuck out. She must have been really upset to have agreed to meet here, at her place, instead of somewhere more public. I could be anyone. I could be a murderer. I could be the type of man to strangle a woman, skin her and wear her like a coat.
I’ll be having words with her about this once I’m finally in the apartment.
I pull on the cigarette, waiting for a sense of calm to fall over me. It won’t come, though. Ever since I stepped out of that tent and nearly collided with that little firefly, I’ve been waiting for this. I’ve slept withgadjewomen before. Thanks to Archie’s influence, they’re theonlywomen I’ve slept with. Archie is more Traveler than Roma, but his beliefs about women are very much in alignment with my forebears. Women are unclean. They have to be kept as pure as possible before marriage, so the clan’s men areneverallowed to sleep around with girls inside the community. Fuck as many outsiders as you like but touch a Roma woman before you’re married to her and be prepared to deal with the shitstorm that follows.
