The Life I Thought I Knew

Prologue

1931

IDC peeked her head into the backroom before stepping in the doorway with a big steaming cup of coffee.

"Coffees on." IDC announced walking confidently in the room.

"Thanks." DC muttered not looking up from the papers scattered around his desk. IDC placed the mug next to her brother before sitting down on the chair next to the desk.

"How's the writing going?" IDC asked.

"Terrible, listen to this." DC ordered picking up one of the papers. "'A speakeasy? I've never been to one of those.' I had gasped, shocked that Florida even suggested it. 'Rich boy never been to a speakeasy before? Color me shocked.' Texas said grinning mischievously."

"I think it sounds good!" IDC announced.

"It sucks!" DC moaned, hitting his head on the table. IDC bit her lip and looked at her brother, moaning quietly over his papers.

"Ya know, you don't have to write a book about this." IDC pointed out. DC picked up his head.

"I have to, it eases the pain." DC muttered.

"It's been four years Dee." IDC said softly, squeezing DC's shoulder.

"I can still remember the last thing I said to them." DC whispered. "I told Colorado to duck because The 67th Gang was firing at us. Then it was all black."

"It's not your fault, DC. They lived this life, they knew the score." IDC pointed out.

"That's why I need to write this book, I need to do it in their memory." DC said, picking his head up. IDC bit her lip as DC tapped his paper with his pen before jumping up.

"Dee that's it!" IDC yelled.

"Death?" DC asked before yelping as his sister smacked him.

"Not that!" IDC said, rolling her eyes. "The old boat storage by the dock! Why don't you go there? It might help with your memories."

"I thought the police burnt that." DC whispered.

"It's way too fishy to burn, you know that." IDC said making her brother snort.

"You make a good point, I'm going down to the docks." DC announced collecting his things. IDC watched her brother start to leave before he paused in the doorway.

"Do you think this will bring me closure?" DC whispered turning to his sister.

"Well I don't know about that." IDC said with a shrug. "But it might at least heal the wound a little."

Later that day DC wandered around the nearly empty dock, looking for the building he called home for several months four years ago. The dock was mostly silent safe for the occasional seagull call or ringing bells from little boats bobbing in the sea. DC brought his coat closer to his body as the cold sea air cut through him, as he spotted a seemingly abandoned building on the edge of the dock. Instantly he was filled with nostalgia and sadness as the building came more into sight; back in the early twentieth century, the old boat storage warehouse was mostly for ships coming in and out of the harbor for repairs or to dump their wares before heading to market.

In the 1920s it was mostly used for gangs hiding their illegal alcohol or themselves from the law. Including The Lower Forty-Eight.

DC touched the sides of the warehouse, wondering if it was as big back then as it felt right now. He could remember standing outside with Texas and Alabama doing shooting practice on some old barrels, Alabama yelling at him for not shooting straight and Texas defending him. DC made his way to the doors and remembered the doors whipping open at all times of the day or night with new illegal alcohol that he had to take inventory of. He touched the ancient door handle and, after taking a deep breath, entered the warehouse.

The warehouse had seen better days, and there were more rats and a fishy smell then he remembered but DC could also remember when the warehouse was full of joy, laughter, and chaos. He remembered dancing with one of his boyfriends while Utah played the piano, arguing about the gang violence, or just waking up feeling more alive then he had in years.

It still stung having all of that ripped away from him four years ago.

DC paused when he felt himself step on something, and looked down to see the wet remains of Florida's hat just laying on the ground. It had been chewed by rats, and clearly unraveling at the brim, but DC still bent down and picked it up. Overcome with emotion, DC fell on his knees and hugged the dirty, old hat close, sobbing a little as the memories all became too much.

Four years after the loss of his friends and boyfriends, things weren't getting any easier.