Billy stood taller. Mom’s pickup rolled to a stop. Accompanying Hoyt were cousins Paul and Aaron. “We got company.”
“Aww, for cripe’s sake.” René’s bootheels crunched on the mixture of gravel, snow, and ice coating the parking lot. “What’s his problem? I wanna go home and eat. Not get into a fucking boxing match. Man, your brother’s gotta grow the fuck up. He just turned twenty-four.”
“He’ll never grow up. It’s always gonna be a fight with him.” A wave of sadness washed over Billy. Why Creator had wanted him to dance for such a loser was beyond him. Nothing was going to get through to Hoyt—ever.
The rattling engine from the pickup ceased. Hoyt got out. He tossed aside his beer can. A cigarette dangled from his thick lips. He swaggered up to them, bookended by Paul and Aaron.
“You can’t leave it alone, can’t you?” An ache pinched Billy’s temples. René was right. Dinner and TV was on the agenda. Not a stupid fight.
“You’re done. Finished.” Hoyt stepped forward. The stench of booze came from him. “Not my brother. No way are you making him your bitch, motherfucker.”
“My bitch?” René set his hand on his chest. “Try no. He’s not my bitch at all. That’s you calling him—”
“Isn’t he?” Hoyt raised his finger. “Got him bending over for you, don’tcha?”
René met Hoyt by another step. “You would see it that way. I sure as shit don’t. Keep insulting him. Go ahead. But I can tell you I never ever insulted him once.”
“Oh? You didn’t? Word is he’s been bending over for you ever since you two started hanging. That means you weren’t only using my brother to get your rocks off, you were fucking my ol’ lady at the same time.”
“Try again.” René folded his arms. “Ask Olivia the reason why. If she’s honest, she’ll tell you I never wanted to sleep with her in the first place.”
“Yeah, ‘cause sausage is your meal of choice, not beaver, huh?”
“I won’t deny it.” René stood his full six-foot-two.
“You and me. Right now. One on one.” Hoyt flexed his fingers in a c’mere manner.
“When are you gonna grow the fuck up?” René shook his head. “You’re twenty-four and still fighting like you’re in high school. Gimme a fucking break.”
“C’mon, ya pussy.” Hoyt almost spit his words out.
René tossed Billy the float bag. “Put it in the truck.” He shook his head at Hoyt. “Take your best shot, but you’re going down. I’ve had enough of you.”
“And be charged with assault by your asswipe cuz? Nope. You throw the punch.” Hoyt pointed at his chin. “Right here, ya fudge-packin’ faggot.”
“Your words aren’t goading me. If you don’t wanna throw a punch, then fuck the hell off. Let’s go.” René pivoted, just as Billy shut the truck door after putting the float bag in the console. “We’re outta here.”
Steam almost erupted from Hoyt’s ears and nose to match his beet-red face. Then he lunged, fist raised at René’s back. Billy bolted forward. He stepped between his brother and boyfriend, using his arm to block the punch meant for René.
Murder raged in Billy’s heart. “Sucker-punching wimp. You would take a shot at him when he’s not looking.”
Hoyt again raised his fist. For the second time, Billy blocked his brother’s meaty fist. They danced back and forth, Hoyt swinging and Billy using his forearms to deflect the vicious attack.
“Leave him the fuck alone. Get the fuck away from him. You’re piss drunk. Go the fuck home and sleep it off.” René appeared. He reached out, attempting to lock on to Hoyt’s arms.
Hoyt swung. Billy blocked the shot and retaliated with one of his own. Nothing was going to stop his brother until he stomped the motherfucker. Forgive me, Creator, I’m tired of his shit. I tried. I really tried.
Billy wound up his fist and hit Hoyt square in the jaw. Disappointment threaded through his veins. He’d failed the sun dance. He wouldn’t join Ned in the circle this summer because he’d gone against Creator’s wishes.
“You son of a bitch.” Hoyt came at Billy with two locked hands and swung.
Having both of his brother’s powerful knuckles knocking him on the head was a club striking Billy’s brain. He spun on one foot, ears ringing and vision doubling.
“That’s enough. If you wanna fight anyone, you’ll fight me,” René hollered.
“Stay out of this, you cock-sucking, fudge-packing, ass-licking faggot!”
Just as Billy lifted his head, Hoyt clocked René square in the jaw. René never flinched, even though what he’d tasted should’ve broken a bone because a crack had echoed through the air. They charged each other, both swinging.
Billy raced forward. Paul and Aaron seized each of his arms. He fought to wrench himself free, but they wrestled him to the ground.
Aaron sat on top of Billy. Billy’s chest heaved up and down. He attempted to buck his cousin off. Paul captured Billy’s ankles, which stopped him from kicking his way to freedom.
“Let me the fuck go,” Billy shouted.
The sounds of cursing and flesh connecting with flesh carried to where Billy lay pinned. No matter which way he twisted and turned, he couldn’t throw his cousins off. They were Redskys, too, and might not be the size of Hoyt, but they were as heavy and as tall as Billy.
Finally, he managed to squirm enough over to witness what was going down. To Billy’s astonishment, Hoyt was staggering backward after taking another punch from René. Blood covered his brother’s face. Half his jacket was off. When he received another solid hit to his face, his big body trembled. He dropped to his knees.
“Stay down.” René’s words carried a splatter of warning. “Stay the fuck down.” Blood leaked from his nose. A welt covered his right eye.
“Fuck you.” The words Hoyt let loose carried his bloody spit. He sprang forward and locked himself around René’s knees. “No faggot is taking me.” Heavy breaths filled his voice, as if he fought for air.
Having his knees gripped sent René tumbling to the ground. The two wrestled back and forth while Billy continued to try to wrench himself free.
“Even drunk you can bust him up good.” This came from Aaron, who also reeked of booze
“You can waste him, man. He’s nothing but a fag.” Paul kept a tight lock on Billy’s ankles.
The fists kept flying. Hoyt was on his back and struggling to get up.
From out of nowhere, a loud bang almost broke Billy’s eardrums.
“Holy motherfucker!”
Billy had no idea who’d cursed.
Hoyt shoved a slumped René off him. He bolted to his feet, yelling, “Let’s go. Let’s go. Now.” He half staggered and half ran for the truck.
Billy was freed from the death grip. His cousins chased after Hoyt. Without looking anywhere else, his heart standing still, Billy scrambled to where René lay curled on the ground. Blood stained the mess of snow and gravel beneath him.
“J-Jesus!” Teeth clacking, Billy leaned down. He rolled René over. A wail of disbelief screeched from his throat.
Blood covered the front of René’s jacket. Billy had no clue where the red horror came from. He checked René’s pulse beating beneath Billy’s fingerprints. The keys. René had been locking up. Frantically, he searched both of the leather pockets and found them. His heart seemed somewhere in his throat as he raced to the store and unlocked the door in one try. He couldn’t move fast enough to the counter where he snatched the phone and punched in three numbers.
“You dialed nine-one-one. What is your emergency?” the dispatcher asked calmly.
“My-my boy-boyfriend. M-my b-boyfriend. I think... th-think he’s been shot.” The words seemed to stick to Billy’s teeth.
“Where are you, sir? Please give me your location.”
Billy rattled off the address for Vernon’s Videos.
“An ambulance is on the way. Tell me, sir, where is he? Is he in the store?”
“N-no.” Billy’s skin went cold. “He’s in the p-parking lot. He’s out there. I gotta go. He needs me.”
“Sir, stay with me. Okay? I need you to stay on the phone.”
“Stay on the fucking phone? My boyfriend’s out there dying!” Billy slammed down the receiver and ran back outside.
His training at the police building. He was supposed to stay on the line. He was supposed to stay calm. He had first-aid experience.
René remained in the same crumpled heap on the ground. Billy knelt beside him, drawing in a big breath of air. First, he worked on opening René’s jacket. Thank fuck the zipper hadn’t jammed. Then searched for the wound. He pressed his hand on René’s chest very lightly and felt around for the location of the bleeding. Training told him gunshot victims bled out in the first eight minutes.
The spot where the blood came from sank Billy’s heart to the back of his spine. René’s chest. God no, please no.
Billy kicked away the panic threatening to eat him alive. If above the waist, he shouldn’t raise René’s legs. That only increased the blood flow. He had no plastic to seal the wound, but his jacket would suffice. His flannel shirt might work better. He tossed it aside and used the shirt to put pressure on the wound. The course had also taught him if he had to use his knee to keep heavy pressure, to go ahead and do so.
Since René was curled like a baby, he was already close to the recovery position. That was all Billy could do until help arrived.
“Can you hear me? Please don’t die on me. Please don’t die on me, René.”
Sirens carried on the slight breeze. Those were from an ambulance. Billy raised his head and looked around. The help he needed was probably zipping along James Street.
Billy never got a chance to join the Oshawees at the hospital. He was at the police building, a cup of coffee in hand, providing his statement. Never had he squirmed so much in a chair. Trying to sit still while René was taken from him was impossible.
“I didn’t see a gun. I only heard it, I told you.” He swiped at his eyes. The tears kept spilling over. His nose ran. Already, he’d told Warren and the other officer what had gone down. He’d repeated himself three times.
Another officer came into the room. “We checked the house. His girlfriend’s there, but she doesn’t know anything.”
Fuck those bastards. “She does, too. Ask her.” Billy almost threw his coffee cup aside. “Can I please go now? René needs me.”
“Sure. If I have any more questions, I know where to find you. C’mon, I’ll give you a ride to René’s truck.” Warren stood.
Billy followed him from the police building. They got into the cruiser and drove away. When they arrived at the video store, the area remained taped off. Frank continued to process where the crime had been committed. Thank fuck the headquarters for the Anishinaabe Police Service were located at Thunder Mountain, instead of another reserve, or they would’ve had to wait for a constable like Frank to fly in.
“That’s what I’m gonna do.” Billy pointed. “I’m gonna be the lead detective investigating the...” Motherfucker. “... accused.”
“The case, Billy. The case,” Warren reminded him.
“Sorry. The case.” Billy held the keys for the video store and René’s truck. “Thanks, man. You were there fast. Right behind the ambulance.”
“It’s my job. Remember, it’s not easy policing your own reserve. Nine times out of ten, we know who the victim and accused are. You must keep a level head, no matter the circumstances.”
“I know.” Billy swallowed. “And I’m gonna do that. I lost it at first, then what you taught me kicked in.”
“You did good. You managed to stem the blood flow. You called for help. That’s all a person can do.” For once Warren’s commanding voice softened. “Tell Uncle and Auntie I’ll be up as soon as I can. I still have a lot of work to do.”
“I will.” Billy cracked open the door.
“That’s another thing to remember,” Warren added. “Sometimes we can’t be there. We have to stay on the job.”
“I know. Thanks. Thanks for everything.”
“No problem.” Warren nodded.
Billy got out and huffed for the truck.
Twenty minutes later, after a white-knuckle drive and jog down the long hallway and hauling ass upstairs, Billy approached the same place where he’d waited to hear the verdict on Hoyt’s surgery.
Packed in the mob were Mr. and Mrs. O, along with Daniel and a shitload of Oshawees. There wasn’t any seats left, so Billy stood. Someone passed him a coffee since another had brought up two trays of them.
He leaned against one of the many panes of windows that occupied one side of the hall, allowing ample light to flow in during the daytime.
Some of the cousins spoke about finding Hoyt. A few stared at Billy. He should’ve felt uncomfortable being the brother of the enemy, and he held their stares. They might be René’s cousins, but he was René’s boyfriend.
Mrs. O threaded her way through the family members. Shiny red coated the whites of her eyes. Even her nose was red. She held a tissue. “How are you?” She put her arms around him. Sans her makeup and coiffed hair, the dark circles beneath her eyes robbed the youthfulness she always displayed.
“I’m okay. How is he?”
“Oh, Billy, I don’t know. He’s still in surgery. The doctor simply told us to start praying if we believe in prayer.”
A chunk of ice seemed to fall from above and land in Billy’s gut. His arms around her froze. “Wh-what do you mean?”
“The doctor couldn’t give us details. When we got here, René was already in surgery.”
“Wanda...” The sound of Ned’s voice carried between them.
“Ned...” Mrs. O turned to him.
Billy blinked. As Mrs. O threw her arms around Ned, she was a scared sister, looking to her brother for comfort, terrified over losing her child, and not his foster mother. Ned hugged her tight. He was a brother embracing his sister, hoping his sibling didn’t have to suffer such loss.
“Billy...” Daniel had spoken.
“Yeah?” To ease the dryness in his throat, Billy sipped some coffee.
“Do you know where Hoyt might have gone?”
During their talks at dinner, Hoyt hadn’t ever let on about places he secreted off to, other than what everyone else knew—the pool hall and The Busy Bee. “No. I do know bikers have safe houses. If I know this, Warren will.”
The darkness clouding Daniel’s eyes bordered on a man ready to rip someone to pieces. “Okay. Thanks.” He patted Billy’s shoulder and strode back to Mr. O.
Without René present, Billy wasn’t sure who he was supposed to talk to. The discomfort clinging to his skin was a rash of itchiness an allergy produced.
Stuart and his mom made their way through the crowd.
“Billy!” Stuart darted to him. “Have you heard anything? It’s all over the rez.”
At two-thirty in the morning, the surgery waiting area and hallway had become the reception area at the band office on a Friday morning.
“I don’t know. I got here about ten minutes ago.”
“What happened? People are saying Hoyt shot Renny.”
“I don’t know. I was pinned, man. Pinned.” Billy eyed his boots. He swiped at his hair. “I couldn’t get to him.”
“Was it outside the video store?” Stuart draped his arm over Billy’s shoulder.
Billy nodded. He squeezed his eyelids shut before the rainfall of tears started again. “They were drunk. I could smell it as soon as they got out of the truck.”
“Who was it?”
“My brother and two of my cousins. They were muscling us.” Billy was back in the boardroom at the police building, retelling his statement to Warren. “René jumped in when Hoyt went at me. Hoyt dared René to hit him...” He babbled on, unsure if he made any sense.
“Easy, man. Renny’ll pull through. You know how tough he is.”
René lying in his own pool of blood kept flashing in front of Billy. He sank down on the baseboard heaters lining the hallway. How long he sat with Stuart beside him, Billy wasn’t sure. The light of the sun hitting the sea of windows told him early morning was upon them.
The doctor appeared through a doorway, still in his scrubs. “Mr. and Mrs. Oshawee.”
The chief and his wife hurried to him. So did Daniel. Billy followed.
“Right this way.” The doctor led them farther down the infinite hallway. “He’s in ICU.”
“How is he?” Mr. O demanded. “Is he going to recover?”
“It was touch and go, but he came through. So far, he’s responding. He won’t be able to speak. He’s heavily medicated. We’re using an endotracheal tube to protect his airway, and a chest tube to remove air from around his lungs. You may see him, but keep the visit brief.”
They walked until they reached the end of the hall. Billy held his breath. They entered through a doorway to a waiting area. They dogged the doctor past the waiting area and through another door leading into another hallway. The patients’ rooms wrapped the nursing station that stood in the middle.
A nurse motioned at them to don surgical masks and gloves. Once they did, she opened the glass sliding door to René’s room. Just as the doctor had said, every contraption possible was hooked up to René whose bed was in the center.
Billy pulled up a chair on the right beside Daniel, while the Oshawees sat on the left. The bruise where Hoyt had hit René covered his eye. His nose was swollen. Lips cut. Billy grasped René’s lifeless hand and rubbed his fingers.