She’s so fucking cold.
Beyond tense, she moves robotically with each bark of the guard. He’d been open to conversation with Rob and Jax both as they’d passed through the metal detector, but one look at Veronica and he was masking transparent repugnance. She spreads her arms out, his hands pass over her sides and chest, down to her hips and linger. Looking, searching like a dog with its snout pressed to the pavement, eager to find something on her. She’s allowed through, kind of like trespassing into forbidden territory. Nothing is as loud as the barred doors as they come to a close behind her.
Correctional Officer Walsh is the one running this show, he checks over his clipboard and eyes the group in front of him with a sense of misplaced authority. “Follow me. This way.”
Veronica keeps to the back of the entourage. There’s a woman in her early thirties with a crying baby on her hip and a child no older than eight clinging to her hand. An elderly couple that walk side - by - side, the wife keeping her purse clasped to her chest as if she’s afraid someone might snatch it. A man and what looks like his teenage daughter, who refuse to look at each other. Jax and Rob are in front of Veronica, their heads are bowed together, whispering.
She hates this shit.
Abruptly, the kid with the mom turns his head and stares at Veronica, as if he’d heard what she’d been thinking. His eyes are big and blue, freckles curve over the soft uplift of his nose, too fucking young to be in a place like this and know what it’s for. What’s your daddy in for, kid? Or your ma’ won’t tell you?
“Vee,” Jax murmurs, she lifts her chin to look at him, he’s all jitters and shakes. Bad hangover, whatever he and Casey got into last night is evident on him. “Do you think they’ll let us see him today?”
God, he barely said two words and she wishes he would shut up already. An apprehensive glance is risked to the guard’s back as he leads them further down the hallway. Soon, they’ll be at desk check, where they order you to show your wrists with the entry stamps. Hopefully, Jax didn’t rub too anxiously at his.
“I don’t know,” she tells him, chewing at the dry skin of her bottom lip. It’s freezing, the lights are too bright and shining off the freshly mopped linoleum, she feels queasy. Veronica keeps her hands in her pockets, just to withhold them from reaching out and grabbing at her sides, always searching for someone else’s presence. “You talk to him more than me. Don’t fucking ask me stupid questions.”
“You okay?” Rob’s attention is caught at the sound of her voice, as it usually is. His bushy eyebrows screw up together, “You were quiet the whole way here.”
“Not really up for conversation,” she says. She avoids both of their stares like the plague, she’d rather just look at the kid, who is glancing around the corridor in wonder as they come to a slow stop at the double doors. “Hate this place . . .”
Rob nods, but doesn’t look convinced, “Yeah.”
Jax is rubbing his lips together, pale, “No doubt.”
They get through the checkpoint with ease, through the exit, outside where she can see the watchtowers and tall fences. No one’s outside, the workout area is deserted and looks cold and unused. The next building is even smaller, reserved specifically for face - to - face or face - to - glass or phone - to - ear meetings. Spaced out tables, lonely vending machines in the corner, bored officers dotting the corners of the room. There’s even a shitty little kids’ play - area that looks like it’s been there since the seventies. Veronica wonders what the kid thinks seeing it.
The three of them are seated in the face - to - glass option, their inmate isn’t really the type to get much hands on communication, given his background and misdemeanor. Veronica is itchy in her seat as she waits, Jax is too anxious to sit still and he moseys on over to the vending machines with a purpose.
“So,” Rob is looking at her again, he reaches towards her lap as if he wants to take her hand and thinks better of it. Good. “Get any sleep last night?”
“Is this your way of telling me I look like complete shit ‘cause thanks a lot.”
“No! No,” he shakes his head fast, his brown curls are slightly matted and sweaty from underneath his winter hat, “Just . . . worried. Everything’s been so fucked lately.”
She wants to say I know, but her lips hold. Rob is just as much a leader as herself, and even so, he looks towards her when things get too messy for his liking. This instance being one of them. There are bags underneath his eyes, like he’s nursing a broken nose or something. And he looks like he’s losing weight again, around the middle, never a heavy guy but never skipped a meal either. Good ol’ Rob, reliable and loyal.
She blurts, “I wish Jacob was here.”
Rob’s forehead crumbles again with that. He appears displeased, but he’s hiding it with his hand, rubbing a thumb anxiously over his mouth. He doesn’t like Jacob, he probably never will. “Why?” Before she can answer, he continues, “Y’know, Veronica, I’ve been meaning to tell you–”
“Yeah.”
“Jacob, he’s . . . I don’t know what you see in him, seriously.”
“Jesus fuckin’–”
“I’m serious. And then you got him mixed up in our shit now, I don’t even know the guy. Every time I turn around, he’s there. It’s just - it feels like he knows more about what’s going on than I do. And we’re partners–”
“Rob, not now, I just–”
“Hear me out–”
“Not fucking now–”
“They have Skittles,” Jax announces as he arrives, the brightly - colored packaging as much of an eyesore as he is. He dumps an array of the candy into his hand and holds it out for any takers. Rob is the one who accepts the offer, he’s patient like that. He glances at Veronica out of the corner of his eye as he chews pensively, and just like that the conversation is over.
Already, she wants to bolt. Fuck this entire thing. Go back home, get back in bed. This ungodly visiting schedule, these too - bright lights, the cold feel of solitude sends a shiver down her back. Who gives a shit what Rob thinks? She used to, a while ago, before everything. Before Jacob, who risked life and limb to keep her safe, who rose up against West despite his usual intimidation tactics, who fucked over Patrick for even glancing in her direction, who put her before all else. That’s never happened before. Rob can even attest to that, he’d been the first to leave her out to dry when shit hit the fan with Ben and Charlotte.
Never gave a shit about her before. Vee can handle herself, she makes do, she’ll figure it out. Yeah, thanks. And now that someone actually stuck their neck out for her, everyone wants to insert their opinions. Well, fuck that and fuck them.
She’d been so lost in thought that she almost jumped out of her skin was a loud buzzer went off, signifying that the door to the main prison was being unlocked. Inmates flooded in and were filed against the wall in an orderly line, waiting for their names to be called, visitors waving from their designated tables.
Dex was one of the last to his seat. Even behind the smudged - up glass, Veronica could see the hollows of his cheeks. He looked skinnier. Orange wasn’t his color either; he was in transit, awaiting trial to see if it would be thrown out completely or he would be fully sentenced for manslaughter. Veronica could still vividly remember that night at the strip joint, his face behind the window of the cop car, vacant and bloody.
What did you do, Dex? What did you do?
He hesitates before picking up the phone on the other side, shakiness clinging to him. Rob does the same, plucking up the receiver with little effort and giving one of those relaxed smiles, like this was an everyday thing and there was no need to worry. “Hey, there you are! Man of the hour–”
“I told you not to bring him,” Dex says coolly, without really looking at Rob. But it’s said towards Jax, who chokes on his Skittles a bit and has the nerve to look sheepish. “I don’t want no fuckin’ white boy in my business.”
“He was my ride here, Dex,” Jax insists, “I swear I wouldn’t bring Rob unless he was cool!”
“I don’t give a shit,” Dex is pissed, even with how tired he looks, “I just wanted Veronica,” and then he looks directly at her, a dead - kind of stare, “Just you.”
She’s chewing at her lips again, and then thinks better of it and gnaws at the inside of her cheek instead. Where it’s raw from her wisdom tooth growing in. It tastes bloody and sour, like a penny. Baby - faced Dex looks out of place here, sunken in his chair and begging her with his eyes. He wants her to take the phone and she has no choice but to.
“How’re you?” He asks as soon as she takes it from Rob, “How’s, uh . . . Rubio?” He stares over her shoulder, nudging his head in a jerking motion to tell them to leave. Jax does immediately, Rob is the one who crosses his arms and refuses to move.
Veronica’s throat is dry, “He’s good. I mean, he’s pissed. Everybody is. I think you’re gonna get pushed back even more, ‘cause the judge. They’re fucking with you.”
He snorts derisively, but there’s humor that touches the dark brown of his gaze. He’s still the same, and that’s so good to know. “Yeah? It’s Rodgers so what do you expect?”
“Same piece of shit who sent me to juvie for six months. Didn’t give a shit it was my first offense.”
“Guess he’s upgraded from family court.”
What happened to them? What happened to us? Veronica doesn’t dare to ask it out loud. She refuses to be this demure, helpless girl that looks towards him for answers. She’s not fourteen anymore. She tosses the vulnerability to the dregs and swallows, “Mr. Rubio said . . . he said he ain’t gonna help you out with this.”
Looking up into Dex’s face was hard. He looked every bit of his nineteen years, hot - blooded and stone - faced, a muscle in his cheeks jumps when he forcibly clenches his jaw. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“I tried to talk to him,” she exhales in a rush into the phone, afixed by his tone alone. She’s heard and dealt with it before, from different aspects in her life. Douglas her foster dad, Mr. James her first boss, and West. This guttural growl that men get in their voice when they think they own you, and just say what they want. She would’ve guessed by now she could blink past it without fighting off bile from the back of her throat, but that’s just wishful thinking. “I did and he fucking snapped on me, okay? Listen, listen–” Again, when Dex tries to speak over her, “I tried everything. He won’t do it.”
If looks could kill, that’s all she can think as she struggles to meet his stare. She’s like a mutt, tail caught between her legs, and he’s the king of the dog pound, muzzle dripping and quivering, eager for a bite at her throat. “Dex–”
“Are you even fuckin’ thinking?” He spits into the phone. Sounds so different from the boy that used to find her hiding under the abandoned school bleachers, freezing and hungry, draping his coat over her and sharing a cigarette back and forth for an hour. Her stomach rolls over. “What the fuck am I supposed to do in here? Rot away ‘til he feels charitable enough to fuckin’ check on his nephew? His flesh and blood? He sent you to tell me this shit, chew me up and spit me out like–”
“Dex,” Rob says, he’s glancing over to one of the guards in the corner of the room, who is eyeing their group with disdain, “You have to relax–”
“Shut the fuck up,” Dex clamours over him, he’s holding the phone so tight he’s trembling again, “Shut the fuck up right now or–”
“Hey,” The guard in question kicks at an empty chair across from their booth, his eyes shrewn, as if he’s waiting for one of them to jump through the glass and attack the other. Would probably make his day. “No shouting in here or visiting time is up.”
Dex opens his mouth, Veronica meets his eyes and shakes her head once. He closes it. But his eyes are black when he faces Rob again, “Move. I want to talk to Vee only.”
Rob hesitates, he doesn’t look ready to move at all. He chances a glance to Veronica, whose head is bowed and burrowed into the receiver as if it’s a saving grace, breath quickened. One hand touches her knee, she jumps in her seat, and he leans closer to mouth: You okay?
No. She wants Jacob here. He would know what to say. He would know how to lighten the mood, despite the tension. He would take her hand and rub the raw skin of her knuckles and give her the effortless smile he reserves for cheering her up. Fuck.
But she shrugs, flinching away from Rob’s grasp, urging him from the space. He leaves without another word, over to where Jax keeps casting them frantic glimpses from the burrow of his arms on the table, the Skittles have rolled onto the surface and floor from his lack of attention.
“Vee,” Dex’s voice is wrecked when he speaks again, he has leant closer to the glass. Desperate, hunched towards her and whispering her name as quietly as a prayer, “Vee, you can’t let him leave me in here.”
“I don’t–”
“You don’t know what it’s like here, you don’t. Juvie and jail ain’t nothing like this. Enemies in here, people who don’t like my uncle. Fuckers that he’s crossed and would do anythin’ to get back at him. Staying in here is gonna fuck with me, Vee.”
Her stomach lurches at the despair of his tone, but there’s nothing to give. She hadn’t had a bite to eat that morning, she feels even more hollow than normal. “I - I don’t know, Dex. Fuck. I mean, I can ask Jacob to pull a couple strings.”
“... Jacob?”
“Yeah, he’s got me out of a few situations and–”
“White boy? That fucking gringo?”
“Dex–” He sharply inhales and struggles to speak, “Dex, he can fucking help …” Her words fall on deaf ears, he’s staring at her now, like she’s shit on the bottom of his shoes that he’s close to scraping off.
“You fucking him?” He doesn’t give her a chance to say anything, he’s spitting his words next, “You’re just like Miguel, just like him. Just get your fuckin’ shit all crossed and wanna play house. Shit doesn’t work like that, it doesn’t. And now look at him! Now, look. Where’s Melissa? Fuckin’ dead and he’s stuck with that kid and–”
The mention of Valerie makes Veronica’s eyes water. How much she looks like her mother, in the dimpled smile and brown skin. And the last time Veronica had seen Melissa, silken ebony hair in a bun and the post - baby weight making her appear well - loved and motherly. Miguel misses her, Veronica can see it in the way he lingers on her name after he whispers it underneath his breath or when his eyes get that far off look whenever he bypasses that picture of hers in his wallet.
Stuck on that thought like a broken record, Veronica’s stare shifts to the kid from earlier, he’s far away, by the window seats, where he’s staring at the table in front of him like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. Instead of his father in front of him, who seems equally as uncomfortable as his son. He’s holding the baby in his lap, jostling her every once in a while to stifle her cries. The kid keeps his head down, his shoulders keep shaking. Veronica wonders if he’s crying.
“Like you give a shit, right?” Dex is still going, his voice is coursing through her veins like venom. She feels ten times smaller in her chair right now, like that kid, “Just glad to get rid of me, right? Right? Just like Miguel, just like Rubio!”
Veronica doesn’t know when it happened but suddenly he’s up out of his seat, screaming into the phone even though there’s no need through the glass. Veronica physically retracts as if he’d slapped her. In moments like this, when his temper takes ahold of him, he never really looks like Dex – he looks like his father’s anger embodied ( a man Veronica had never gotten the chance to know herself because of his perpetual drinking and driving but knew enough from stories ), a thought flickers with an almost foreign emotion swelling inside of her.
It takes a second to realize it’s fear.
Scared of Dex?
Fourteen - year - old Veronica would laugh in her face, all sneered up at the nose and cheesy grin. Flipping the bird to the cops as she and Dex ran together, helping each other over a chain - link fence and ending up toppling onto the other side. That’s when he would take a hold of her face, winded from his laughing, skid - burn palms hot on her cheeks. There’s nobody like you, Vee.
Image is shattered, replaced by this alien and ugly version of Dex. She knows the anger and frustration. Hell, she’s felt it before. It’s all she knows, in the end, just like him.
“You would turn your back on family! On your own kind!” He fumes, “Did it back then with the Russian and you’ll do it now, you fuckin’–” He doesn’t even finish, or maybe he does and Veronica can’t hear it past him ripping the phone from the wall and bashing it into the glass at full strength. It doesn’t do anything but bounce him off like rubber at first, until three or four more swings and a crack forms.
The guards seize him before Veronica really has a chance to react, he manages to throw one off but there’s two more right behind him. “Hey!” Rob is yelling, standing and crossing the limited space to get to the booth, “You don’t have to grab him like that! Hey!”
But they already have Dex on the ground, yanking him by the arms, one has a knee jutted into his side. Veronica can’t really do anything, none of them can. Just watch as they pretty much carry Dex out of the room kicking and screaming, fighting tooth and nail the only way Dex knows how.
The next twenty minutes are sort of a blur : she follows Jax and Rob out of the prison on dead feet. Officer Walsh makes it his business to lecture them on “provoking the inmates” on the way out, all superior and shit and Jax nods like a bobble - head. If Veronica wasn’t shaking so much, she would punch him in the arm.
“Yeah, yeah, we got it,” Rob mutters, retrieving all three of their IDs from the front desk officer. He hands Veronica’s hers, and she avoids her picture at all costs ( she was never camera ready, even prepared, her dirty hair and haunted eyes said enough ) and stuffs it into her jeans, “Well, that was something.”
“Rob,” Veronica gives him a withering look, she’s not in the mood for any joking. She can’t stop thinking about the complete hatred in Dex’s eyes, towards her specifically. If the glass hadn’t been in the way, what would he have done? Who knows, who really knows Dex anymore. Not her, that’s for sure. Maybe Nixie would have handled that situation better, and that thought was enough to make her scornfully smack her teeth.
“Fuck, fuck . . .” She hisses, lips quivering. Jax shifts beside her restlessly, uselessly, “Fuck me.”
“Vee,” Once they’re far enough away from the desk, Rob turns to face her in one quick motion, once again reaching towards her hand in comfort but backtracking when she shoves them both into her pockets, “Relax. It’s okay, he’ll come around.”
“He won’t, he won’t,” she’s shaking her head before he even finishes, ducking away from his open arms. Always giving, always seeking her out to comfort. Is she a kicked dog to everyone or something? God fucking dammit. She sucks in her lips to keep herself from making any kind of embarrassing sounds, “He won’t. He fucking . . . It doesn’t matter, I’m fucked. Either way.”
Dex had always been a safety net of some kind. If she ever fucked up bad enough, he would catch her. Every time, with anything. And even after everything with West, he let her into the underground with little to no qualms, even asked her how much she needed to get out of trouble.
Jax approached the two of them cautiously, and peered over at Veronica like she was a wild animal about to go for the throat, “Maybe . . . maybe I can talk to Mr. Rubio. He likes me, Vee. Dex, too! You know they listen to me.”
“Yeah,” Rob says, he grabs ahold of Jax’s shoulder and shakes him a bit that way guys do to each other, “See? Don’t–” His face softens at the look on Veronica’s, whatever it may be, it’s enough to have him easing over to her, “Don’t do that, okay? Don’t stress about this. All he needs is a lawyer.”
“A lawyer?” She laughs, but it doesn’t have a shred of humor in it, “Some hick that’ll just fuck him over?”
“A real lawyer,” Rob insists, with another eager nod from Jax to back him up, “I know people. Devin knows people.” Right, squirmy Devin who went off and got himself a good job. Didn’t stop him from packing shit for CRUISIN’ every Tuesday while his wife sat at home with the kids and another in her belly. “Maybe even Callaway.”
Jax’s eyebrows shoot up, “Mr. Callaway?”
“Vince,” says Rob, as he directs them to the double exit doors; the guard at the desk was beginning to give them a look that says Please Leave Already, “Mr. Callaway died a few months back. Only Natalie and Vince now.”
That information seems to excite Jax, “That means Mrs. Callaway is single!”
“Widowed.”
“So she’s lonely.”
Outside, the clouds are a hollow grey, like it’s close to rain. The chill is more pronounced now, not enough for Veronica to see her breath but she crowds more into the too - big leather jacket of Jacob’s that she managed to swipe this morning in her rush. Rob’s keys are jingling in his hand, she can hear them even over the roar of her ears. Looking back at the prison, how it stands so tall and indestructible, she feels smaller than usual. Wishing she could take a bulldozer and smash it to bits, then Dex would be forced to come home.
She thinks about five years ago, six months of pure Hell in juvie. The way the judge had stared down his nose at her, the trembling that started from her hands and up her stomach as she filled with ice. And the anguished glance she remembered casting over her shoulder to her foster family; beautiful blonde - haired Sasha who looked as helpless as she did, Nikki who refused to even risk a glimpse in her direction and checked her freshly served manicure in boredom, and Douglas . . . he just seemed resigned, like this was all inevitable, like those nights he snuck into her bed throughout the last nine months hadn’t fucked her up more than anything.
She didn’t have anybody, back then. Not really.
Dex was there though. He had come to see her every Friday ( he had those off because of the budgets cuts at their shitty school ), told her about what was going in class and how gross the cafeteria food was, and how Mr. Rubio had him pushing shit all days of the week. There were moments, from what Veronica can remember of that blurred timeline, where Dex would reach across the little plastic table the guards put in between them and brush his fingers on the back of her hand.
What could she do for him now? It’s so fucked. How could Mr. Rubio even think he could make it here? Jesus Christ.
“Fuck’s sake,” Rob mutters suddenly, his tone is enough to pull her from the inside of her head, the endless abyss that it is. “What’s he doin’ here?” He and Jax both have their backs to her when she turns to face them, they’ve come to a slow stop at the edge of the parking lot.
From the wind, Veronica’s hair casts around her in a wild array of reddish - brown, like the flickering flame from a lighter. It blinds her for a moment, she has to tuck it behind her ears to see. And what a vision it is, Jacob standing there by his too - shiny - never - a - dent - in - sight car, leisurely leaning against the driver’s door and sparking a cigarette to life.
She’d be lying if she said her breath didn’t stop for a second. From relief? She’d been thinking of him for the last four hours, and he’d appeared out of thin air. Her knees lock, just to keep herself from barrelling straight towards him like some kind of idiot.
Rob looks back at her, squinting through the minimal sunlight that’s shining through a cloud, “You told him where we were going?” Not really. She doesn’t even know how he managed to find out.
She was in a hurry this morning, itchy and irritable, he’d barely gotten three words out of her. Besides a few lingering kisses and groping, she had left without even saying goodbye, and figured she would be back before he fully woke up. That’s her fault for thinking Jacob was anything but spontaneous.
“Jay!” Jax is waving an arm over his head, like an excited kid that’s being picked up from school by his daddy. “Hey! When did you get here? How’s it going, man?”
Jacob is just as friendly, with a smile and a nod of his head, but his eyes are trained firmly on the girl standing slightly behind Rob.
Veronica frowns and shrugs one shoulder, “What, you think I invited him or something? It’s not a slumber party.”
“That doesn’t give you, I don’t know, stalker vibes?” Rob sounds like he’s joking, but Veronica knows he’s not, from the face he’s making, “Seriously, the guy’s everywhere.”
She’s walking closer with Rob and Jax, but she’s not really there. It’s fucking weird how fast the tension vanishes around her hands and shoulders, like it was never really there at all. And then, the sound of his voice, “Took y’long enough, huh?”
It all melts away, just like she does when she’s in front of him. He gathers her up like she bears no weight at all, snaking his arms around her waist in a familiar fashion. She doesn’t have the energy to put up a fuss like she always does, instead just presses her face into his jacket and inhales deep, his cologne is a sharp smack to her senses and she burrows further.
His soft laugh rumbles inside of his chest and vibrates beneath her cheek. He darts one hand below the curtain of her hair and rubs her back, it’s a warm and comforting weight, like a blanket, “Hey, babe,” he says into her ear, pressing his lips there right after, “barely gave me the time to say bye to you this morning, ran away like the place was on fire–”
She kisses him quiet. And he’s quick to respond, all warm lips and daring tongue, lifting his hands to her face and nape to pull her closer. She’s breathless already, heart in her throat, blaring an alarm through her ears over and over that sounds a lot like This Is Dangerous You Like Him Too Much It’s Gonna Hurt. But his thumb does this thing where it brushes and presses into this sensitive spot below her jaw, and she’s moaning into his mouth.
It’s one squeeze to her ass that makes Rob start complaining, “Jesus. Keep it in your pants, Jacob.”
He huffs out a laugh against her lips, pulling back just a bit, “You think I’m the one over here y’should be sayin’ that to?” The dark brown of his eyes are twinkling diamonds, full of life and ardor, and he’s giving her this look like he can see right through her. It should be unnerving, it should make her feel fucked. But it doesn’t. “You okay?” He breathes, searching now, his hands dragging down to her shoulders to hold each firmly, “Ronnie?”
She almost blurts out No No No I’m Freaking Out Dex Hates Me, but she just shrugs off his touch and hides in her hair, ducking from his short - lived look of bemusement, “It’s fucking freezing,” she mutters, “Open the door.”
Jax and Jacob do this guy - handshake - thing, they’ve gotten closer over the months and she can tell Rob is getting perturbed by it. He makes his way to where she stands, she is pulling adamantly at the passenger’s door handle, and says, “So yes to the Vince thing?”
“Vince?” That catches Jacob’s attention from whatever Jax had been babbling about, he blows smoke out through his nose and Rob leans away, annoyed, “Callaway?”
“Surprise, surprise,” The sarcasm couldn’t be any thicker on Rob’s tongues, “You would know who he is.”
“Mmmm,” Jacob smiles and cocks his head, thumb edging along his eyebrow as it jerks up, “Y’know me, Rob, everybody you don’t like, I gotta know ‘em one way or another.”
“Yeah, funny,” Rob grumbles, Veronica yanks harder at the handle, again and again, hoping Jacob would get the message but he’s too busy having some kind of pissing contest, “Anyway, I can get in contact with Vince. Old man died a couple months ago, maybe he’ll be in a giving mood.”
“If it’s anything the Callaway’s are good for, it’s money and lawyers,” Jax says, smiling at Jacob even though he’s speaking to Rob, “It’s like getting a grant or something. Whatever strings they pull will help Dex out.”
Maybe it’s because Veronica knows him too well at this point, but Jacob definitely stiffens at the mention of Dex. He takes it in stride though, holding smoke through his teeth and letting it billow out in loose, cloud - like tendrils. It curls around his face, but his eyes are on Veronica now, staring like he knows something she doesn’t.
She grimaces, and looks away, “Talk about it some other time,” she says to Jax, “Head home, I’ll call you both later.” Once again shouldering it all and taking the leadership position since all they can seem to do on their own is twiddle their thumbs and wait for a plan. “No Vince yet, Dex’ll kill me if he even hears his name.”
“He's still pissed about that?” Jax asks, eyes big, “Holy shit, I totally forgot.”
“What happened?” Jacob doesn’t look terribly interested, but he isn’t willing to drop the Dex subject just yet. As if waiting for one of them to slip up with something, something he can pounce on and prove why fucking around with Dex is a bad idea, which he won’t stop reiterating by the way, “Call me curious.”
“Dex and Vince had a bad run - in couple years back,” says Rob, despite his palpable exasperation, “Vee is the only one who managed to get them both from killing each other. Lots of people would be in the ground if not for her.”
Jacob cracks another grin, but it’s as sharp as a knife, “Yeah, that seems to be a runnin’ theme around here.”
There’s some silence after that, Veronica doesn’t have the guts to lift her head. Rob is the one who crowds closer to her, one hand on her wrist, “You sure you don’t want to ride back with us? We can grab somethin’ to eat on the way.” He sounds hopeful, and when her inky stare raises, he’s giving his good - natured and coaxing smile. Like he knows she’s full of nerves and he wants to help and is doing it in the only way he knows how.
He’s such a jackass sometimes.
“I’m fine.” Veronica tells him, relieved when Jacob finally makes a move in their direction, effortlessly forcing his way in between them. He unlocks the door and opens it for her. Always the gentleman, he even winks at her as she climbs inside. She tries to ignore the way Rob’s expression drops, but fails.
A few more words are exchanged between the three, Veronica doesn’t even try to eavesdrop and listen from behind the window, instead blowing warm air anxiously into her hands. Another minute or two before Jacob gets inside too, with a quick and pointed goodbye only at Jax. She watches through the windshield as they disappear into Rob’s beat - up truck with no problem and the lights flicker on.
Jacob’s engine purrs to life underneath her, and he pulls out of the prison’s parking lot with a familiarity of his vehicle that shouldn’t seem so damn attractive. As soon as they’re on the road, his free hand settles onto her thigh, “Ron.”
“What.”
“Someone’s in a bad mood.”
“Yeah. Me.”
“That’s funny.”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t know. Just feel like that should be me.”
“Jacob.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to see Dex?” He doesn’t sound pissed, honestly just a question, but still. Her hackles raise, shoulders jerk up to her ears and she shies away from him. His grip keeps firm though, smoothing over her knee and back up.
“I told you I had some business.”
“How pissed at me would you be if I said just business and left?”
“I didn’t leave–”
“You left and didn’t tell me anythin’, Ron. There’s not a lot of shit people can do to drive me up the wall, but that’s one of ‘em.”
“Sorry, I didn’t realize that I have to run everythin’ past y–”
“Oh, sure,” he’s looking at her and she’s trying to hide in her hair again, because looking back at him will turn her into easy - putty like earlier, “That’s bullshit, Ronnie. What do I have to say t’get you to believe that I’m on your side? Only your side, babe.”
Her throat closes up, through the shroud of her hair, she looks at him, cringing in her own skin at the way he stares at her. The car comes to a slow stall on the side of the dead freeway. It’s one second of her sucking her lips into her mouth and chewing at them raw before tears threaten to spill. When she speaks, she doesn’t sound like herself, “I . . . I don’t know what the fuck I’m gonna do, Jacob.”
His mouth presses into a straight line, displeased, as one tear brims over and escapes. She breathes in shakily, attempts her best at gathering herself but its dumb and pointless because he’s already seen all he’s need to, “Everything’s gone to shit and – and fuck, y’know? I’m supposed to talk to Vince now, he doesn’t even fucking like me, he looks at me like I’m some kind of . . . I just can’t let Dex rot in there.”
“He’s a fuckin’ dumbass, Ron. He got himself in that, it is not – listen to me,” he speaks over her and takes her face in his hands, fingers in her hair and breath warm on her skin, “You don’t owe them shit. My girl ain’t a fuckin’ errand girl, to anyone.”
She sniffles pathetically, or it sounds pathetic to her, “. . . yeah?”
“Yeah. Fuck Dex.”
“But–”
“Fuck him, Ron,” he’s closer now, kisses at her cheek soundly to catch another teardrop on his lips. She turns her head and catches his mouth, open - mouthed and desperate for the comfort only he seems to give. She’s like dry leaves that’s been thrown to a bonfire, she’s quick to catch, burning for him when his hands dip under her borrowed jacket and pulls it off.
As soon as her arms are free, she swells, affixed to the potent scent of his cologne and shaving cream, cigarette smoke on his breath. His hair slips through the gaps of her fingers as she takes handfuls, urging him closer until she’s in the driver’s seat, trapping him in the immovable prow of her hips and thighs.
Jacob steals her breath and two more kisses before she’s able to talk, whispered into the flesh of his bottom lip, “I really have to do–”
“Shhh,” he’s telling her, his breath is warm and moist to her skin, “I’m gonna handle it.” Kisses slip past her mouth and chin, one hand rested to the hip and smoothing over her backside, the other cradling her head, he bores into her neck with lazy passion, tongue at her racing pulse point. “I’m gonna take care of it.”
Veronica could turn into a puddle at his feet, just from the reassurance and vehemence in his voice. Ardor in its most cardinal form, she is weak - willed to everything that is Jacob. If only things were that simple, if only she could let him do just that: handle it all for her. Could she put that much trust in him? When was the last time she rolled over to reveal her belly, much less her throat?
Somehow, she ends up in the backseat of his car, underneath him, the sunlight that’s been hidden behind the clouds all day long is shimmering through the fogged windows. Her legs are splayed open, wet and flushed and swollen between the thighs, more than ready for him when he replaces his fingers with his cock.
She feels crazy, to be this lost in him.
Jacob brushes her hair from the sweat of her neck and forehead so their eyes can meet, and just from one look, he can’t seem to keep himself from kissing her again and again. She wants to hate when he’s so hands - on especially since guys all her life just stick it and finish within minutes, he acts like he wants to savor and enjoy it as much as possible.
Veronica’s orgasm sneaks up on her, between the feel of his lips on her chest to the heavy weight pressed deep inside her, any will to hold it off is nonexistent. She’s left gasping around two of his fingers, sucked into her mouth beforehand to touch her tongue, only salt and the taste of her. He has to pull out and empty onto her stomach when he’s finished, she’s too blissed - out to care, like an addict without her fix, clutching onto him with deft fingers and clenched calves tangled with his. They’re a mess by the end of it, she can’t tell where she begins and he ends.
“God, you’re perfect,” Jacob tells her in a whisper – after over ten minutes of silence she had almost fallen asleep. “Wanna stay like this forever.”
He sounds as if he were talking to himself, but his hand traces down past her breast and takes hers, tangling their fingers together and kissing her knuckles. Veronica swallows thick, she has to open her eyes to look at him, he’s staring back already, ghost of a smile visible with one dimple showing. I love you, his face says.
Veronica’s heart is soaring, “Me too.” Yeah. I know.
Exactly one week later, Dex sits up to a door being open. Doused in a heavy layer of filth and sweat, he glowers through the dampened curls of black on his forehead, all bark and even more bite. Three guards slink into the narrow space of his cage like shadows, obviously giving him the wordless nudge to stand but he doesn’t move.
“What?” Dex hisses into the dark. Seven days of no answers, just thrown into solitary with nothing. Everyone here is just a blur of faces, sometimes the guards look like Rubio but that’s just his anger playing tricks on him, and it doesn’t do a thing besides make the days stretch on longer. He remembers when Jorge told him the shorter the sentence, the longer it feels. Dex just never thought he’d live long enough to actually endure any of it.
He’s forced to his feet with a yank to the arm that just fucks up his shoulder. He swings at one, and they all pounce as if that’s the shot in the air to do what they want. His head is pounding when they cuff him, ears so filled with racing blood to the point he can barely hear them speaking.
Someone is muttering, he’s teasing his pristine boot into Dex’s side as if he wants to kick, “. . . sure he’s the one?”
“My guy don’t give me the wrong names,” this one’s accent is thick, born and raised in the South Bronx. “Get ‘im up so I can get a good look at ‘im.”
“Yeah, yeah,” the third hefts Dex to his feet again, scowling when he spots blood dribbling from his nose and uses a rough sleeve to wipe it away, “Fuck’s sake, ease up! You hit the guy too hard.”
“My bad,” Mr. Kicker says, but doesn’t sound sorry at all. The tone is enough to make Dex whip his head around and chuck spit in his direction, caring the least bit when it misses. Kicker laughs, and all Dex can think about is if his hands were free and this was the ring, Kicker wouldn’t be the one finding shit funny, “You got a visitor today.”
Dex barely manages to grunt, “Thought my visits were revoked.”
“It’s your lucky day, you got ‘em back.”
They take him out of the cell and into the hallway, where other isolated prisoners begin banging on the doors and walls when they hear the jingle of guard keys, they’re like wild animals desperate to be free and willing to do anything for it. It’s just walking and more walking – solitary is further off from the prison, and he’s tucked inside of the work van to cart him back like luggage. There, he’s surrendered to two new guards, but Kicker remains.
It’s way too early to allow him free - roam, so something must be up. Maybe Rubio pulled some strings. Or Vee finally came to her senses and talked to a lawyer or something. He could kiss her next time he saw her, wherever they’re taking him he hopes she is there. Anything to rid his mind of the last memory he has of her that flashes behind his lids whenever he chooses to close his eyes.
How scared she had looked in that moment. Mouth slightly ajar, staring at him with fluttering eyelashes, like she couldn’t really understand what she was seeing. Like he wasn’t really him. When did the distance between them become so far? Few months ago, he could barely remember the details of her face ( from all the non - stop matches his cousins put him in, he was scared the fists were going beat the image out his head ). Her brown eyes that seem so large up - close, the fullness of her lips and the way she chews them, the soft tawny of her skin, the almost - flame likeness of her hair and the moths it attracts.
Like that fucking Russian. His blood burns hot just thinking of him. How could someone like Vee even get caught up in shit like that? At first, he’d believed her when she said that it was all some mistake, Ben and Charlotte were dead and she ran out of places to go. But now with the Italians, he can’t help but wonder just what other stories she’s flipped.
Veronica is family. Veronica is blood. Yeah, so is Mr. Rubio.
A buzzer goes off, when Dex blinks he realizes he’s in the visiting area. The latch unlocks and the door is opened. And right across the room, behind the glass, holding the phone and looking up expectantly is Jacob. The fucking rat.
Dex sneers his top lip and turns, only for Kicker to stop him and spin him around, practically forcing him into the opposite seat. Kicker nods at Jacob, he tips his chin back in return. Dex’s stomach is churning. Italians don’t just run the sewer lines, they’re in the prisons as well.
He doesn’t touch the phone. In fact, he glares at it like it’s got some kind of disease. Jacob smiles at him, all easy, “Pick it up,” he says, muffled, “You’ll wanna hear this.”
Dex’s jaw clenches so tight that it makes his head hurt worse. Deliberately slow, he reaches out and does what he’s told, keeping eyes to Jacob, watching as that creepy smile only widens, “Fuck’re you doing here?”
“Thought I would come visit, I know y’ve been dyin’ to see me,” he replies, and exchanges a glance with Kicker, as if to let him know it's fine and he doesn’t need to hover, which he heeds and goes to his corner to watch. “How’s the nose?”
“Fuck you,” Dex snaps, red - faced. Behind Jacob, there’s another guy looking eerily similar in facial features. Dark clothes and hair, fiddling with a pack of cigarettes. It doesn’t take a genius to see that they’re related.
“C’mon, Dex. Let’s try t’ hav’a civilized conversation here,” Jacob says, “I don’t wanna fight and you can’t, so let’s talk.”
“Talk about what? I got nothin’ to say to you.”
“Got plenty t’say to Ron though, right?” Jacob’s eyebrows lift and wrinkle his forehead. If Dex knew him better, he probably could’ve picked up on the annoyance there.
“Her name’s Vee. Veronica. You got fuckin’ braincells or are all o’you rats the same?”
Jacob ignores that, “You need me in this situation, man. Not the other way around,” When Dex opens his mouth to rebuff, he keeps going, smooth as ever, “Your Uncle’s not gonna bail y’out. We both know that. You’re lookin’ at a fifteen year sentence if your man doesn’t pull through, maybe even more dependin’ on how this goes.” From his spectator view by the door, Kicker laughs.
“I don’t need any help from you. And if you think I’m gonna take it, then–” He doesn’t even get the chance to finish, his anger is thick, almost potent in the air around them. His hands are shaking, he has to tighten the one around the phone to gather himself, “Did Vee send you?”
Jacob is busy staring at him like a science project, analyzing him to store for later, “Y’could say that.”
“I don’t need hand - outs.”
“Gonna rot in ‘ere if y’don’t get one,” He waves a hand at Dex before he can interrupt and leans back into his seat, “Hear me out : you got somethin’ I want. And I got somethin’ y’want.”
Dex flexes his jaw, the room feels too stuffy, “. . . What is it?”
Jacob slightly turns and meets the eye of his companion, who has been quiet for just about the entire thing. Dex takes a good long look at him while they’re both distracted – definitely related, no question about it. Brother? Cousin? What the fuck’s his name? Jacob looks back at him, “I can get you outta here. Easy, no problem. No Callaways, no money. Nothin’. Could even have you out by the end of th’ month.”
Dex eyes him, and then his brother - cousin, who keeps staring back impassively. His legs are jiggling, like he can’t wait to leave. Dex either. “No money? Bullshit.”
Jacob grins this time, but it looks rude almost. “No money.”
“Fuckin’ what, then?”
“This is one chance, one deal, Dex. You could take it and be a free man,” Despite his smile, Jacob looks as dangerous as ever. “I want you t’leave.”
“Leave?”
“After you’re out, you get the fuck outta dodge. Leave the state, don’t come back. I don’t care about your friends or your family or whatever the fuck else. You pack your shit and I don’t see you again. And neither does Veronica.” Dex can’t help but laugh, it’s a mocking sound, almost malicious. Jacob just stares at him, cocking his head, “Somethin’ funny?”
“That’s what this is about?” Even with his bloodied nose and his concussion, he still finds humor in it all. The guy behind Jacob is busy clicking his teeth in annoyance by the time Dex continues, “You don’t want me around Vee, that’s it? I don’t know what she’s told you ‘bout us,” he talks over Jacob going “everything” and keeps going, “But there’s no Vee without me. Fuck, she must be desperate. I can’t believe she’s got y’down here beggin’ –”
Jacob stands. It’s without warning and shuts Dex up instantly. He’s turning, as if he’s ready to leave, his guy does the same.
“Hey! What the fuck–” Kicker moves up behind him, gripping underneath his arm and preparing to heft, “Wait, wait! Just fuckin’ wait.” And Jacob looks at him, disinterested, an eyebrow jerked up in question, “Wait, okay?”
With a wave of his hand, Kicker backs off and Jacob returns to his seat. Brother - cousin stays standing and props up against the wall to watch with interest. Phone flat to his ear again, Jacob gazes at him with all the calm in the world.
He feels like there’s something hot in his stomach, like burning coal. He can’t be sure if he’s going to blow chunks onto the glass or try and break it like last time. Dex imagines his hands around his throat, and the image in mind flickers from Jacob’s face to Rubio’s over and over again. Blood is in his mouth now, the flavor almost tastes amicable, he’s tearing his teeth into his tongue hard enough for it to pool. Everything about this goes against what he knows, Vee had to have known that. Was he really so out of options that this was all she could turn to? It’s a surprise, to know that she’d swallowed her pride for this, probably opened her legs too.
He wants to kill something.
“Vee is loyal to a fault, did you know that? She won’t let me leave. Does she even know you’re here?”
Jacob looks like he wants to laugh this time, but instead he just shrugs noncommittally, looks down at his free hand and doesn’t say anything.
“What happens if I don’t take the deal?”
“Well,” he gestures just beyond Dex’s shoulder, to where Kicker stands, impatiently waiting and drooling at the chance practically. “Y’stay here. Live out y’r sentence. Or not.” There’s a gleam in his eye now, as if he knows something Dex doesn’t. “You leave Veronica alone. No more of your bullshit you keep dragging her into, no more fuckin’ her over. You two are done after this. Don’t even tell ‘er you’re leavin’. Capiche?”
Who does he think he is, Dex thinks to himself. Dex and Vee, that’s who they are and have always been. You don’t get one without the other. Maybe in some fucked - up world where nothing made sense, but not in this one. Sometimes, he wonders just how differently everything would have played out if he took Veronica as his woman and not Nixie. He wouldn’t be here, that’s for damn sure. And she wouldn’t be following this group of rats around town. He’s kind of wishing that they were kids again.
He’s silent, clenching and unclenching his fingers around the phone, the buzzing of the lights overhead the only sound. That and the guy behind Jacob flickering the lid of his lighter, open and then closed.
“That it?”
“And you don’t come back. Ever.”
“Fuck you.”
“Or, at least, ‘til I say so,” he lifts one of his shoulders again, whether he takes the deal or not means nothing to him. He’ll get his way regardless, he seems the type. He takes a glance up towards him, through his thin lashes, gauging Dex’s reaction. “I’d hate y’to pass it up.” No, he’d love it. He would love every second of it. One of these guards that work for him would make Dex’s life a living hell. Or they’d stick him in the east wing, where people are more likely to be stabbed than anything. He’s got a target on his back, and he’s had it since he stepped foot in the joint.
Vee’s face is back again, playing on loop – her eyes full of tragedy, her scent of smoke and shampoo, the whisper of her hair in the peripheral. For years, it’s haunted him, ever since he met her. Just a wild and thick mess of tangled curls, brown and orange and red. He misses her, more than the outside of these walls, more than his own mother . And he looks back at Jacob, the obstacle in his path among many, who doesn’t even know half of it.
“Well? What’s it gonna be?”
Dex’s voice comes out as a rumble, “It’s a deal.”
This isn’t over, he thinks, taking one look from the brother - cousin and circling back to Jacob. Kicker checks over his cuffs to make sure they’re locked tight, shoving him from the room and into the hall. When Dex looks back, Jacob is standing, exchanging some words with his guy. At the same moment, he lifts his chin to meet Dex’s stare through the glass. Not by a long shot.