A Thousand Starry Nights

by Addison Moore

  God, she really doesn’t shut up, does she? My jaw goes slack. Is this the bull he’s been feeding her?

  My mouth falls open. Why is this twat in my home, calling me out on how I treat my louse of a husband?

  “What do you mean he’s been telling you for years?” It’s the one sentence I choose to perseverate on. Henry and I haven’t been apart for years. We’d hardly been married for years.

  “That’s right.” She twists her face into mine. “You don’t know? I’ve been comforting your husband with more than my wit and personality for quite some time.”

  “Oh, honey, you don’t have either.” And how could she be comforting him for years when her husband died last summer? “Wait—” I shake my head. “You didn’t lose your husband in the war, did you?”

  Her brow lifts. She looks to Henry as if asking permission to speak.

  “Nope,” she gives it triumphantly like some winning hand she just laid out on the table. “My sister did. She also cashed in on a very large payout by her life insurance company.” She inverts her lip a moment. “One horrific accident, one magnificent windfall. My sister never has to lift a finger again for the rest of her life. It’s a very sad thing to lose a spouse.” She looks to Henry with a marked aggression before reverting her gaze to me. “Except when you want them gone in the first place.”

  Something tells me impoverished Henry needs one horrific accident and one magnificent windfall.

  I think I’ve just stepped into the viper’s nest.

  Carter

  Abby runs in a circle as I pat a spot for her on the bed. She’s already in her PJs, her teeth brushed, ready to hit the sack. One bedtime story and I’m under strict orders to leave. Cher isn’t in the mood to entertain me tonight. She’s pissed to high heaven that I would try to take her daughter away when, essentially, she tried to do the same thing to me by way of falsely accusing Aspen. The truth is she was trying to hack Aspen out of the picture once again.

  “Tonight’s story is the Princess and the Pea.” Fitting since Abby is a bona fide princess, mine. She hops up obediently, and I hold my precious baby girl, soaking in the pleasure of reading her a story before bedtime. This tender moment, right here, is what Cher worked so hard to strip me of. I can’t forget it. After I tuck Abby in and kiss her cheek, I leave without a word to her mother.

  Calabasas shrinks in the rear view mirror as I make my way to open skies, to Aspen. Once Abby is with us full time, and I don’t doubt she will be, the air will be sweeter, the ocean, the sky both a little more blue.

  Love—that’s all I’m feeling right now, all I’m in the mood for. As soon as Aspen is released from her husband’s noose, I’ll put a ring on her finger.

  Just the thought of Henry sours my mood. He’s a buzz-kill like no other, an instant hard-on killer, that’s for sure.

  I can’t seem to piece it together. He’s an idiot, but why take out an enormous loan you know you can’t pay off? If Aspen didn’t have access to those funds, they both would have been killed. Maybe that’s what he wanted, the two of them dead. He’s a moron like that.

  I get home and find the Rover gone from the driveway. That means Aspen’s out. The house is a hell of a lot lonelier without her—a thousand times so. I can hear every echo, every hollow bark Harley offers as I make my way into the kitchen.

  I’ll start dinner and surprise her. Salmon and buttered pan-fried cauliflower, a nice salad, all on me.

  My phone buzzes. It’s a text from Ford.

  That PI sent you something. Check your inbox.

  I head over, and, sure enough, there’s an email marked information. I click into it and download the doc file. It’s brimming with line after line of just that, information. Post married life: Killed a snake and skinned it to make a belt. Traded it for live Ganga so he could grow his own supply.

  How does he know this? Is he making this shit up?

  Participated in odd jobs for his stepfather, a prominent contractor who has since semi-retired and moved half his operation to Washington State. Actively engaged in an affair with a stripper named Nikki Terzoli. Goes by the stage name Jennifer.

  The stripper. That must be the one I saw Henry fucking right there in the club. I would have brought this up to Aspen, but by then they had all but separated. I suppose it’s yesterday’s news by now, no use in opening old wounds. But a part of me knows I have to share this. I’m not into keeping any secrets for Henry. I’m especially not interested in helping him hide anything from Aspen.

  December 31th of last year, increased life insurance on his spouse by one million dollars.

  My heart stops. I don’t take my next breath. He upped the life insurance? Did they do this together? December 31st—what a way to ring in the New Year.

  Why would Aspen agree to up her life insurance at the same time the Lionhearts’ took over Jinx?

  I give a vacant glance to the ceiling.

  His ego. Henry hated the fact Aspen would be working with me. He knew they were done.

  The loan sharks. Taking out a loan he couldn’t pay off meant someone was going to get hurt.

  Someone was going to get hurt. Guaranteed.

  Lincoln mentioned he paid them off. He said it should have called off the dogs, but it didn’t. Why didn’t it call off the dogs? Why would they try to kill Aspen for a debt that was already paid?

  I read on: February 14th of this year, took out a loan from Sonic Glass to the tune of eight hundred thousand dollars.

  Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart. Here’s your death warrant. What a fucking charmer.

  Wait—eight hundred thousand? That’s not what Aspen borrowed from the company. Aspen said he spent three hundred and fifty thousand on the boat. What did he spend the rest on? What could Henry get for hundreds of thousands of dollars without Aspen noticing? Or, better yet, why would he tell her about one extravagant purchase and not the other? Unless it was a secret. But Henry isn’t good at keeping his shady accolades under wraps, and for certain he isn’t into gifting Aspen anything. Henry was just about to kill her when she left him.

  Ice runs through my veins as the big homicidal picture comes into focus.

  Kill her.

  That’s it. Henry bought a hit.

  “Aspen!” I growl her name, hoping to God she’s coming up the walk.

  My hand gropes over the counter in frustration, and, in my fury, I stumble upon a note.

  * * *

  The city rises like steam—morphs into a blur as I cruise the freeway as if it were a speedway. I manage to hit Lincoln’s number, but he lets the damn thing go to voicemail. I try two more times, third time’s a charm.

  “Henry’s going to kill her. The boat was a rouse. He wants her dead.”

  “What the fuck are you rambling about?” He sounds agitated as if he’s moving, rushing to get to the car.

  “She’s with him at the old place. I’m headed there now. He borrowed a hell of a lot more than what she paid back.”

  “I shut down Sonic Glass. Don’t you fucking listen? She’s safe.”

  “Not when he realizes his hit isn’t going through. Henry upped the life insurance by a cool million. He wants her dead. He’ll find a way to do it.”

  “Shit.” The line goes dead.

  The Hollywood Highlands Condominium Complex is built into a hillside. There’s a main thoroughfare to the left, but, other than that, it’s mostly side streets and dead ends. Not too many exits in the event Henry is looking to take off in a hurry. I keep an eye out for one of his cars. I’ve had his life, his wife, memorized from top to bottom for two solid years.

  I kill the lights just as I take the turn onto their street and park behind the last car on the block. The Rover sits out front and a simultaneous feeling of relief and nausea rolls through me all at once.

  Voices emanate from ahead, the faint sound of a woman, and an angry jackass of a man—Henry.

  There he is standing at the base of Aspen’s old SUV.

  “Carter!” Aspen’
s voice lights up the night like a cat on fire.

  “Fuck.” I bolt in that direction. Can’t see her. The shadows play with my mind, and I imagine her everywhere like some funhouse mirror. “Aspen?”

  I jog over to Henry and find her torso lying flat on the hood, her hands tethered behind her back.

  “Don’t fucking move,” Henry barks, holding up something morbidly large with a razor-sharp edge, a butcher knife, a samurai sword, who the hell knows.

  A pair of heels clack down the steps from the condo—the girl, the dancer he fucked so brazenly in the club. She’s the one who came to the exhibition with Henry. Without hesitating I snatch her to me, crushing her body to the hood and binding her tiny wrists with my fingers. It’s like trying to subdue a child.

  “An eye for eye,” I say looking at Henry, his face red with rage. There’s something wild, unhinged in his eyes that I’ve never seen before. He’s either hopped up on something synthetic and highly illegal, or he’s filled with an unquenchable desire to kill—both maybe.

  “You fucking leave me for this guy?” He flicks the knife near Aspen’s ear, and a few inches of her hair goes flying in the wind. She’s too afraid to move, her body adhering to the hood as if she’s become a part of it. She knows I’m here, she just can’t see me.

  Shit. A second ago, grabbing his girlfriend seemed like something that might even the playing field, but judging by his madness, the fact he’s foaming at the mouth with anger, I don’t think he gives a shit whether or not I’m standing six feet away. Good God, as tempted as I am to bolt for Aspen, I’m terrified he’s going to filet her if I move a muscle.

  He grinds his hips against her back as she stiffens into him.

  “You want to get fucked?” He flicks her hair with the tip of the blade again. “You want to show this asshole how we do it? How about it, Carter? You up for a little fun tonight? There’s nothing hotter than watching your girl get it from behind while you look on.” He lifts the blade toward the girl I’m holding down. “I should know. It’s pretty hot. What do you say?”

  Aspen twists her head just enough to look into my eyes, and I see the fear, the ripe fury, percolating in her.

  Henry gives her hair a violent tug until his lips are next to her ear.

  “You fucking cunt!” he screams into her, leashing her hair with his fingers.

  Aspen groans. Her eyes squeeze shut.

  “Who the hell are you to fucking leave me?” He gives her head a rattle.

  I bury my lips in his girlfriend’s ear and whisper, “Make him stop.”

  She belts out a sharp piercing laugh that startles everyone here. Aspen looks over at me again with her pleading stare, and I feel helpless, impotent to do a thing about it.

  The girl beneath me struggles to get free. “Cut off her ear!” She screams so loud, I’m pissed that every neighbor in a twelve block vicinity isn’t running outside to see what the hell is happening. Why didn’t I call the cops? Where the fuck is Lincoln?

  “Know your role. Shut your hole!” he shouts like a drill sergeant to his girlfriend while grinding Aspen into the hood with the weight of his body.

  Aspen gives a muffled cry. He’s hurting her. He edges the knife to her precious, beautiful face.

  “No!” I roar into the night, and Henry pauses to look at me.

  “You telling me no? You telling me what to do with my wife? You think you can come here, to my house, and tell me how to run my shit?” He flicks the enormous blade in my direction. “Take one step. Come on.” He invites me over by the swing of his sword. “I want to cut you. It’ll be fun. You realize this knife is going down your throat, Cannon. I’ve had about enough of your horse shit.” He reverts his attention back to Aspen and gives her another violent yank by the hair. “You remember the first words you said to me, sweetie?” He gives her another strong tug, and her skin stretches taut. “What’s your favorite color?” he mimics.

  Aspen used to ask everyone that question. It’s part of what I love about her, a fresh innocence under that tough girl exterior.

  “Well, I finally have an answer for you. It’s black and blue!” He bashes her head into the hood two times fast—quick powerful blows as I jump over the car, tackling both Henry and Aspen. I wrap my hands around his neck, and his serrated weapon goes flying.

  “Aspen, get the knife!” I shout, repeatedly kneeing him in the balls so fucking hard my own balls ache at the carnage.

  I pull him up and grunt in his face. “You will never have children. You don’t fucking deserve to.” I glance briefly over my shoulder to find Aspen lying limp on the sidewalk, covered in blood, a large gash running up the side of her face. “Aspen!”

  Henry bucks like a beast. “I’ve already got a kid.” He bites down on my arm like a bear trap, his teeth digging straight to the bone.

  I let out a solid roar.

  Henry spits into my face. “Whose kid do you think you’re raising?” His eyes glint into mine, the look of vengeance cemented in him.

  The world stills. He’s fucking with me.

  I pull his sorry, ugly mug close. “Abby’s mine, say it.”

  “She’s fucking mine, dude. You’ve been Cher’s bitch from the beginning. How does it feel having a woman fuck you over? Not so good does it?”

  A pair of headlights speed down the street as Henry’s girlfriend brandishes the weapon.

  “I got it babe!” She sings as the car speeds the hell over so fast I’m sure the next light I see will be a porthole into heaven.

  With all the strength left in me, I hoist Henry up on his knees toward the oncoming car. The screech of brakes lights up the night as the headlights stop a few inches shy of our bodies.

  Henry looks right at me, unfazed, as she slips the knife back into his hand. “I’m going to kill you, and then I’m going to kill her.”

  He goes for a swing before slumping over unceremoniously. His forehead sports a jagged hole from out of nowhere—just enough blood and brains to let me know he’s not waking up anytime soon.

  I squint into the headlights with my hands in the air. Lincoln comes into view, cradling a gun in his hands with a cushion-tipped silencer, the look of vengeance alive on his face.

  A blood-curdling scream ensues from behind, and I turn to find Henry’s whore losing her shit, dancing with that razor-sharp knife like no one is watching.

  “You killed him!” She swipes the blade in my direction like swinging a baseball bat.

  My neck sears with heat. I touch my hand to my chest as a wash of warm fluid runs down my shirt like wine from a bottle.

  “Shit.” The world warbles. A strange fog settles in. I glance around to find a crowd of onlookers.

  The neighbors finally showed up.

  I look to the sidewalk where my beautiful wife lies—her hair matted with blood, unmovable as stone as a woman whispers into her ear.

  “Aspen,” her name croaks from my lips.

  The last thing I see are Lincoln’s shoes.

  Starry Nights

  Aspen

  Rumor has it that King Henry VIII bit the big one because of his infamous player ways. Syphilis was at the top of the suspect list. I’d say a body ravaging STD is anyone’s just desserts for cheating on their spouse—and perhaps for bashing her head in.

  “Aspen?” A blurred image of a girl with dark hair moves before me. Claire. How I miss my dear dead sister, Claire. I give several hard blinks as she morphs into view.

  “Am I dead now, too?” My voice sounds deluded like it’s coming from far away with a very bad case of laryngitis.

  “No.” She breaks out into a quiet smile. “You’re not dead sweetie, neither is Carter.”

  “Carter?” I attempt to lift my head, but it’s weighty, impossible to move. My entire body is made of granite. A wretched groan expels from me, rubbing my throat raw in the process. I think I would prefer death to this acute headache throbbing like a heartbeat.

  “I’m right here.” Someone whispers from behind, but I can’
t turn my head. Carter moves into view, his beautiful smile, his pained eyes hard pressed for me. “Baby.” He’s wearing something strange, a thick turtleneck, a neck brace. I can’t seem to process this bloated-neck version of him.

  “She cut me.” He flicks at his oversized bandage. “I’m fine. You’re fine, too, and that’s what’s important.”

  “You have a concussion,” Stevie informs. She swallows hard, sets her chin in the air a moment. “You have a cut, Aspen. It runs from your mouth to your temple on your right side. Thirty-five stitches. We can do plastic surgery. We can do anything you want once it’s time. But, for now”—she picks up my hand—“you’re safe. You’re going to be just fine.”

  Lincoln comes up behind her. I try to smile, but all I manage to do is insight a twitch on my left cheek.

  “Everything’s okay.” He leans in over the bed. “The fucker isn’t going to bother you ever again.” Lincoln’s jaw tightens. “He’s dead, Aspen. Henry is gone.”

  My eyes close involuntarily. A world without Henry. I try to comprehend this for a moment as a stream of emotions run through me, anger, heartbreak, shock, but mostly all I feel is relief.

  “Aspen,” Carter calls to me, and my lids flutter open. “I love you, baby. We made it.”