The Tree

I’ve never questioned my existence in this world. I’ve accepted a lot of things stem from the roots that were planted years prior, before I was ever a thought. Nowadays the roots stretch far from the rot—no matter how hard I try, it still clings to the thriving roots that were never meant to survive.

Unlike this tree.

I tug one more time; the roots snap one by one until it gives—sending me flat onto the ground.

“Do you think taking this is the right thing?” Roux says, arms crossed over his chest, peering down at me.

“Why wouldn’t it be? It’s a tree. I can take one if I want.”

“From the town’s centerpiece?”

“Yes. There aren’t laws for nature. She just is.”

He presses his lips together. Arguing is futile. Passion will always dismantle any logical reasoning. Mine may be jaded with crimson, but it’s passion, nonetheless.

Like this, for example. Am I digging in the middle of town? Yes. But I planted it here several years ago with my father when the town was simply a street with a pub and a dry cleaning service. I was here when it was built, and I sure as hell will be here when it all comes down.

But for today, the tree will be the first.

It has nothing to do with Anita dropping my ring into the river. Or how she walked with her hand intertwined with one of our team members right into the arms of my father’s expanding network.

I slam the shovel into the ground, pressing down with my foot.

And it has absolutely nothing to do with Mom’s riddles or my brother’s constant nagging over how the warning signs were all there—they weren’t. A white fur ball hasn’t appeared out of thin air like they said would happen. Unless you count the pollen shaking from the tree. But that’s yellow.

I yank the shovel out of the ground, tossing dirt over my shoulder.

Roux coughs, wipes dirt off his face, and steps to the side from the onslaught.

“Sir, this is—” a townsperson waddles over, dabbing his forehead with a handkerchief.

“Mine. Go away.”

“Yes, of course.” He spins on his heel and returns to where he came from.

I roll my sleeves up. “Grab that end before the next officiant mediates my work on their centerpiece.”

I made it better.

Roux runs a hand through his hair, slicking it back into its normal position. He lifts the trunk, and a soft growl comes from the leaves.

He freezes, glancing around. “Did you hear that?”

“I haven’t eaten today; it’s that.” Probably.

After tossing it in the back of the truck, we head to the place we were going before the brief detour. Several citizens trail after us, arms waving in the air—finally some appreciation for my hard work. The tree really didn’t fit the arrangement.

* * *

The truck comes to an abrupt stop. The tree shifts forward, branches smacking us in the face. A loud screech comes from the back.

Roux and I turn back, exchanging glances.

“I hope the branch didn’t leave a mark.”

Roux shoots a scowl my way, turning away. “This is why we should’ve taken the other truck. Not this short bed.”

“They’re out of commission. Which is why we’re here now—to take care of that. Besides, this is all Mom had.” I shrug, quickly catching up with him walking toward the Exhausted & Wrenched Auto Shop.

“And does she know what you’re using this for?”

“Talking business over breakfast is forbidden, bro. You know that.”

He halts mid-step, faces me. “That’s why you insisted on going there for breakfast.” He says it not as a question, but as confirmation.

“Oh, come on! Her pancakes are to die for!”

Ding.

The front door opens, and we step in.

The clerk behind the counter glances up with the phone hinged to his ear. “Welc—,” he rolls his eyes, and speaks into the phone. “It’s the itch that I can’t scratch. No matter how hard I try, they don’t go away.”

He sets the phone down onto the counter.

“That’s an easy fix,” I say as I saunter inside with Roux trailing behind.

“Stop trying to scratch it. Lean into it instead.” I flash him a wide smile. “Learn to appreciate us.”

Not like Anita ever did.

“It also helps to not undermine us. We wouldn’t be here if you did your job. Those trucks were stolen.” Roux says, standing tall.

Shit. I forgot what we’re here for.

My thoughts are nothing but a tangled mess in murky water. Similar to whatever plant that’s barely surviving by the register. I’ve lost allies to my father over the years; that’s nothing new. But with them. They were part of our team. One shared a bed—

Roux coughs.

“Oh. Yes, that too.”

Ding.

“Is Oscar really pretending to be a good Sarmatian these days? Aren’t you working a scheme around those trucks?” Thyme, the owner, says while walking into the front lobby. His mechanic overalls bore grease and blood stains.

Multi-tasking is why we’re here to begin with.

“A scheme is only as clean as the vehicles are. Which they weren’t. And I’m pretty sure I explicitly said not to fuck this up. Again.” I circle the space. “Where is your partner? Rosemary?”

He clicks his jaw. “Marie is fixing your other job. Again.”

“Well, nobody ever said you weren’t consistent.”

He waddles over to the register, ignoring me altogether. He taps on the register keys, quickly grabbing money and a small key.

A key that will be mine shortly.

I step toward the counter, leaning over. “You know, if you need help on your—”

“I’m not taking help from a Hawthorne.”

I mockingly place a hand over my chest. “You wound me. We’ve known each other since we were shitting in diapers. And from the looks of it, you still do.”

“Your leadership skills are rusty, Oscar. No wonder Coax abandoned your so-called team so willingly. Anita, too.”

My jaw clicks.

Before I know it, I reach across the counter, gripping his overalls. The key drops onto the counter. Temptation nearly pulls me to grab it, but not now. Not yet.

Roux’s hand darts in from my left. “Let’s handle this outside. Marie wouldn’t want her display of plates ruined—again.”

I step back, readjust my sleeves, and straighten my jacket. “Yes, let’s do that. There’s a tree you should check out.”

Thyme mutters, “Just like your father…”

I turn, facing him. His head lowered, eyes focused on the floor—he slams into me.

“Let’s be clear. I’m nothing like that man. I’m much worse. While he’s gallivanting with his new members, growing his network, I’m here. I have nothing to lose. Everything is gone. I’ll set this place on fire, whip out my bag of marshmallows I never leave home without, and roast them while you’re screaming. Then, once your body has turned to ash, I’ll mix it with the soil and plant my newly acquired tree here. In this exact spot where you’re standing. Would you like that?”

“N-no, sir.”

The urge pulls me to the register. Fuck. The key is gone.

We head toward the truck in silence. The kind that rudely leaves me to my thoughts. The key. Anita. My father. The key must go to the small safe he thinks I don’t know about. White fur ball. My brother’s nagging voice.

Fuck, where does that key go to?

We stop by the truck bed. Branches sticking out in every direction.

I welcome the smell of earth, especially over the rot of this place. When they first opened, the couple had such potential to build an empire. Now, it’s decaying. Other roots slithered their way, strangling their dreams until nightmares were all that remained.

And those roots belong to my father, now.

Just like everybody I know eventually does.

“Look, Basil—”

“Thyme.”

I check my watch.

What an odd question to ask, but okay.

“It’s 4:30. Anyway, we had an agreement. You provide where those trucks were stolen from.” I tap his cheek with my hand lightly, “I won’t reconstruct your pretty little herb.”

He swats my hand away, steps into my space. “I already told you I can’t tell you that.”

Code: Your father.

“You expect me to believe the one that knows everybody’s business in this town suddenly aligns himself with loyalty?”

Meow.

We all remain silent, slowly shifting toward the sound.

A kitten.

A small, white fluff ball of a kitten sits astutely on the edge of the truck bed, blinking back at me.

“Oh, my gosh!” Marie’s voice shrieks as she skips. “What an adorable kitten, Oscar!”

Roux rubs his chin, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Almost like it came out of thin air.”

Thyme sighs, pinching his nose. “Only because of this… when did you get a cat?”

I shrug. “When I got the tree, I suppose.”

Roux rolls his eyes.

“Your father needed to offload items. He stores them here.”

Marie coddles the kitten, pushing Thyme further away from me. “We actually like to offload them to you. I mean… your family and all…”

“Send the details over by the end of the day for these… items. Me and my brothers will handle the rest.”

Marie releases a breath, then Thyme.

The typical cat-and-mouse game continues with my father. He finds allies, usually ones that are easy to control, and then I help undermine his control. But somewhere along the way, I was so focused on dismantling my father’s network that I missed he had control over me.

They both thank me and return to working on the trucks.

Once they’re out of earshot, I call my brother.

“C, he’s gotten to Thyme. No. I don’t need the time—just… meet me at Mom’s.”

I step closer to the kitten.

Meow.

Its blue eyes blink up at me. A soft purr hums against the truck.

Mom’s words echo in my mind.

The pack won’t grow till toxins cease,

No alpha born can tame this beast.

Beware of the one with golden hair,

For the white fluff appears from thin air.

When one moon breaks in two,

Her poison finds its mark.

Your Luna dims on a wolf moon night,

and drowns beneath the dark.

I turn, looking up. There’s only one moon. Damn. My brother told me these won’t be in order, or they don’t always apply to one person—but it’s a string of events that are connected. Sounds complicated.

But this kitten isn’t. I lift him up, check under the hood. Male kitten.

“You, sir, just helped me solve an issue that has been a pain in my ass for years.”

Meow.

I brush along its fluffy white fur until I’m met with something by its paw.

I double blink.

It’s the small key.

A smile blooms. “Oh, I have plans for you.”

I grab him and walk towards the driver’s side of the truck.

“Come on, Roux. Dinner is at six, and I don’t want to be late.”