Beats of the Heart - Chapter 28: Chapter 28

Memories of a darker time clouded Miles' vision as he gripped the phone tightly. The man who shot him, threatened him, and murdered his friends was silent on the other line. His tumultuous emotions flitted between anger and fear.
He had tried to bury the memories of the screams and bloodshed when he had buried his friends. Now they echoed in his mind louder than ever.
"Trickshot came to the club and offered to do a set. My club manager decided to allow him to go on," Jay finally said.
"That doesn't make any sense. Why allow an impromptu act?"
"Because of you."
Miles felt a chill run up his spine. "I don't understand."
Jay let out a frustrated sound as if trying to find his words. "Listen. Your name carries weight. So, if one of your DJs comes through my doors and asks to play, my people will give them a stage. That's exactly what my club manager did when Trickshot showed up," Jay started. "At first, I was going to have my manager call you because I thought it was disrespectful not to inform you beforehand. But then he started his set, and I was compelled to call you myself."
Miles released a shuddering breath, afraid of Jay's implications. "Fuck."
"I'm sorry, Miles, but you should come down and get him. He's not in the right state of mind."
Miles shook his head. This conversation was throwing him off-kilter. Jay, a notorious gangster, was being mild-mannered and polite. Hell, he even was looking out for Miles.
"You understand why I am having difficulty believing you, right?" Miles said, his voice louder than he intended. "Do you need a reminder of the last time we saw each other? Christ. Ice doesn't hold the most pleasant memories either."
"I know, Miles. You have no reason to trust me. But this was important enough to make me call you despite our past."
Miles hated that he sounded sincere. "I don't know if what Trickshot is doing is worth the risk."
"If you come down here, we're just talking. Nothing more. No weapons. No surprises." Jay sighed. "Hell, if it makes you feel better, you can come here strapped. You won't get any bullshit from me."
Miles faltered. "You can't fault me for not trusting you."
"You have my word, Miles. You know, out of all the horrible shit I've done, at least I'm true to my word."
"Goddamnit," Miles groaned. As fucked up as it was, it was true. "I'll be there in a bit. Don't make me fucking regret this."
He hung up the phone before Jay could say anything else. When he turned back to the group, he was greeted with concerned stares.
"We're going to Ice?" Flux asked.
"No." Miles' voice was unnaturally firm. "You will not go anywhere near that goddamn place."
"But if you're going—" Phase started.
"No! This is non-negotiable." Miles shook his head, stormed to the coat closet by the door, and shrugged on his leather jacket. "You will not go near that place."
Phase glared at Miles. "I grew up near there, too. I know what kind of place that is."
"As did I," Juse said quietly. "All of us have."
"We also know who Jay was," Phase said darkly.
"Who's Jay?" Danny asked, his voice trembling.
"No one," Miles said, unaware that he was holding his side where Jay shot him.
Phase crossed his arms over his chest. "Jay was a gangster. He was someone you stayed the fuck away from."
"Miles, he's killed people," Juse said quietly.
A sad laugh escaped Miles' lips. Of course, he knew how Jay killed people. He was there. He heard his friends died. He smelled the thick scent of blood. He had to run from their dead bodies and pretend he was never there.
Shawn grabbed his arm. "What are you getting into? Is Trickshot worth it?"
Miles shook his head. No. Trickshot wasn't worth it, but Jay wasn't someone you said no to. And now he was wondering how many mercies a man like Jay would grant. Would he just let Miles walk away when he had already given him that courtesy once before?
His mind was racing through the countless worse-case scenarios. What if Trickshot encroached on his territory? What if he insulted him? What if Jay went after Miles? He had Danny, Shawn, and Dirge in his life—he had so much to lose.
"We have history," Miles finally said softly. "And he gave me his word."
Miles shook off Shawn's hand and went downstairs, ignoring the protests of the others. He slipped on his worn sneakers and stopped in front of a safe hidden in his closet. He hadn't had to touch this safe since he had locked it years ago. His hands trembled as he punched in his code and opened it. A handgun and bullets sat inside.
He hesitated. The moment he picked up the gun, he would be changed.
"Fuck." His curse was nothing but a broken whisper.
As he reached out his hand, an arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him back. The familiar cologne made him know exactly who was holding him back.
"No, Miles." Shawn's soft voice brushed against his ear. "Not like this."
"He said I could come strapped. That's not an offer I plan on ignoring."
Shawn sighed. "If you feel like you need a gun at a meeting, you shouldn't go to the meeting."
Miles clenched his fist. "Then I won't take it."
"Okay... but you're not doing this alone."
"I can't let you all get caught up in this."
"Too late. We're in this."
Miles turned, his eyes desperate for Shawn to understand. "I'm trying to keep you safe."
Shawn cupped Miles' cheek with one hand. "I know. We all know. But, even being half-aware of the situation we're walking into, we still refuse to leave your side."
"I don't know what to expect."
Shawn kissed his forehead. "Expect us to support or stop you from doing something utterly stupid."
Miles' body went slack in Shawn's arms. "I can't—"
"Stop fighting the inevitable, Miles. I'm going with you. And so are your friends."
Miles rested his forehead on Shawn's shoulder. "Goddamn you, stubborn bastard."
He stepped out of Shawn's embrace, then closed and locked the safe, leaving the gun. He grabbed Shawn's hand and led him back upstairs.
"Two of you are staying with the kids," he said suddenly as he stepped back into the parlor. He knew he was being gruff, but that was the least of his worries. "Draw straws if you can't decide who. We're leaving in 5."
His DJs scrambled and argued over who would stay. However, after a few minutes, Phase and Juse were climbing in the car with Shawn and Miles.
They were silent when they were driving to the club. Phase finally couldn't stand it and leaned forward from the back of the car. "How do you know Jay?"
Miles' hands tightened around the steering wheel. "Ancient history."
"That tells me nothing. You know I'll keep bugging you about it."
Miles sighed. "My friends and I fucked up, and he got involved."
Phase gasped, and Juse cursed under his breath. "What happened?" Phase asked.
"He gave me a chance," Miles sighed, his shoulders heavy. "I took it."
"I never heard of him giving anyone a chance," Juse said with a low whistle. "He just let you all go."
Miles took an unsteady breath. "No. Not really."
Phase and Juse fell quiet and sat back. They knew what that could have meant and didn't press further. Shawn could also read the undertones of his comment and placed a hand on Miles' thigh for comfort. Miles flashed him a strained smile and turned back to the road.
They all grew tense as they parked near the club and climbed out of the car. Miles looked at the building with surprise. Before, it was a shithole with a broken neon sign. But this had been upgraded. It looked clean... classy even.
"Are we at the right place?" Miles murmured, his eyes following the long line of people trying to get in.
"Fuck. This is not the Ice I know." Phase said.
Miles sighed and decided to risk it. He led the others to the bouncer, who was watching them warily.
"Are you on the list?" The bouncer asked as they approached the rope blocking the entrance.
"Miles Mendez," Miles answered. He wasn't sure if he would be placed on the list, but he assumed he would be added if Jay asked him to come.
The bouncer looked at the list with surprise. He nodded and pulled the rope aside. "There's a gated-off area on the left-hand side for VIPs. You can head over there."
Miles and the others thanked him as they entered. However, Miles' steps faltered when he took in what was happening around him.
A massive glass bar was on one side of the club, and people were dancing under neon lights. Platforms were set up throughout the club where professional dancers would perform. A stage was set up high above the crowd with a large screen behind the DJ.
"It's completely different," Miles said with a sigh. "It's nice."
"I'm glad you like it," Jay's voice cut across the music, and Miles tensed. He instinctively grabbed Shawn's hand and pulled him behind him.
Jay noticed the movement and lifted his hands in surrender. "I gave you my word. We're only talking."
Miles nodded stiffly. "Lead the way."
Jay did, taking them to the VIP side of the club, where it was quieter. He let them settle into the chairs and had drinks brought to them. However, no one could relax enough to lift a glass.
"Thank you for coming," he started. "You didn't have to."
"I wasn't sure of that," Miles said, making Jay wince. "You can't blame me for having that assumption."
Jay exhaled, looking down at his hands resting on the table. Miles was taken aback to see remorse and shame etched on his face.
"No. I can't blame you. Honestly, I expected you to tell me to fuck off." Jay gave a wry laugh. "Or shoot me the moment you see me."
Shawn's jaw clenched, his hand gripping Miles. Miles placed his hand over Shawn's, rubbing it gently with his thumb.
"It was tempting to do both." He looked at the stage and found an unfamiliar DJ. "Where's Trickshot?"
Jay shook his head and passed his phone to Miles. "Trickshot came here before doors opened. He talked a big game about being one of Dirge's DJs."
"And you took his word?" Phase asked, his teeth gritted and shoulder tensed.
"We knew who he was. We know everyone under your label." He said.
Miles didn't answer, so Jay continued. "Dirge Records was started by Miles—someone born and raised in this shithole of a neighborhood... People don't forget about their own. You were part of the streets here. You used your turntables to make a statement before high school. Hell, you were making waves in this very club when you were 15."
Miles ignored the others giving him questioning looks. They didn't know how long he had been behind the turntables or about his random jobs to make a buck.
"You made something out of your life, which is a rarity for us. So," Jay said, "people watched your rise and cheered for your success—me included," Jay said.
Miles laughed, but it was filled with disdain. "Cheered for my success? You?"
Jay's smile was filled with guilt. "I did... but that's not why I asked you here."
He tapped his phone and handed it over to Miles. The screen was paused on a video, so Miles clicked play and frowned immediately. It was of Trickshot trying to perform in the club. But he was swaying, his cuts were amateurish, and his mixes were a mess.
"Was he drunk?" Miles asked, but he knew the truth.
"Tweaked out on something," Jay answered quietly.
Miles' fury burned through him, making him irrational. He turned to glare at Jay. "Did you give—"
Jay shook his head, cutting off his words. "You may not believe me, but this place is clean. No drugs on our watch. Ever. Whatever he was on came from his own stash."
Miles gave him a skeptical look, but then again, the club was nice and ran efficiently. He turned back to the video and listened closely. He cursed and skipped ahead. His brows furrowed as he skipped forward to another part.
"Motherfucker. So that's what he was doing with that playlist." Miles sighed.
"What playlist?" Phase asked.
Miles tapped his fingers lightly. "He got into Requiem's laptop and copied the setlist."
Phase and Juse vibrated with anger. Phase slammed his hand down on the table. "If he took that, he probably stole some recordings too."
Miles nodded. "Once I discovered it, everything unreleased was scrapped."
Miles rubbed his temples gingerly. "So my DJ is high on god-knows-what and stealing shit." He knew what to do next but still turned to Shawn. "What would you do?"
Shawn sighed. "You already know that answer."
"I know," Miles said sorrowfully. "He cannot be a part of Dirge anymore."
"Did you want to press charges?" Shawn asked gently.
Miles shook his head. "No point. I have no real proof. Besides, the shit he stole wasn't going to be used... I just don't get it. Any of it. The attitude, the distance, the theft. And after all of that, why come here to perform?"
"To not get caught?" Phase suggested.
Miles didn't feel that was right. "I've been begging him to perform somewhere. Hell, I would have given him that setlist so I could get him out on stage."
"He hasn't been able to create, so he stopped mixing and practicing. Maybe he hoped to be inspired to perform again by performing on an unfamiliar stage," Juse said. "Or, he's so fucked up and can't make rational decisions, he jumped into a random club to swagger."
"Probably the latter," Phase huffed.
"My guys cut off his set early and have him sobering up in a back room. I didn't want him to create a spectacle and put you in an awkward position." Jay said.
Miles gave him a wary look. "I appreciate it."
"Juse and I can collect him," Phase said, "Shawn can stick with you."
Miles knew he couldn't argue with them, so he just gave a slight nod to let them know he was okay with them leaving. He then leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.
Jay chuckled lightly. "You really don't trust my intentions."
Miles raised an eyebrow. "The last time we met, I left with scars. There's no healing from those types of wounds."
"I know. The shit I've done... it's unforgivable. Especially what I did to you and your friends."
"Don't even think about apologizing," Miles snarled.
"Never. I know I don't deserve the chance to ask for forgiveness." Jay said with downcast eyes.
Miles carefully observed him. "But you're not the same person you were before."
Jay looked up, surprised by Miles' words. "I'm trying to be different. I need to be different."
"What happened?"
Jay finally picked up his glass of alcohol and took a long drink. "Out of all the horrible shit I've done, I got popped for narcotics. Spent about eight years in the pen... Not enough time to pay my dues, but enough to teach me a thing or two."
"So now you run this club? What about Sergio?" Miles recalled the old owner he worked for.
"Sergio was caught at the wrong place, wrong time," Jay said sadly.
Miles knew precisely what he meant. How many people died because they were caught at the wrong place at the wrong time? Some random gunfire could take out the cruelest motherfucker, or the purest soul. Bullets had no prejudices.
"Shit. I'm sorry. I hated him when he dug a bullet out of me, but he was a good man nonetheless. He took care of me for the years I performed here." Miles said. Shawn tensed next to him but stayed out of the conversation.
Jay smiled fondly, eyes lost in memory. "Sergio left me this place when he passed. It took a couple of years to get it to this level. But this is really a side gig that earns me enough to invest in the youth center I run a few blocks from here."
"A youth center?"
"It's to help kids have an outlet in hopes they don't follow my path in life. We have a pool, basketball courts, and even a music program," Jay's smile was slightly strained. "But honestly, most of these kids have nowhere to go, so it's become more of a shelter of sorts."
Miles was still, but then a laugh escaped him. He held his hand up when Jay looked offended. "No, I'm sorry. I'm not laughing at what you're doing." He slowly tapered off his laugh and rubbed the moisture from his eyes. "You have no idea how difficult it was to come here tonight. I was expecting another gun in my face, not... not this."
"A reformed murdering gangster?" Jay asked incredulously and then chuckled with Miles. "Well, after several close calls in prison, I knew I wasn't living my best life. When I found out I had a son, I actively made changes to be better. But when I got out... the streets were the same, and my son lived in a world that created a bastard like me. So, I did a lot of research and found a way to reach the youth of our streets."
He pulled out a business card and handed it to Miles. "If you're ever interested to see what we do here, you can look it up. I know this doesn't clean my slate or bring back the dead. But, I'm willing to bear my sins and use my past to save a teen or two."
Miles' took the card, feeling something completely new. Jay was a dark time in his life, and he had compartmentalized his trauma. But now, the person who haunted his nightmares and made him look over his shoulder was no longer present. Although he still could not find it within himself to fully forgive Jay, he felt like he could release the breath he had been holding for over a decade.