by N. M. Brown
“When you were ‘together’!” A viscous growl sounded from behind McQueen. “You lier! You lier! You told me there was no one else. You lied and this is another one of your whores!” Sage visibly flinched and peered around McQueen to discover Anna in all her glory.
Echo had seen many a man who wanted to the ground to swallow them whole, but McQueen was at the top of her list.
“You left me alone in Dublin, and you’ve been screwing this girl behind my back?” Anna looked back to Sage with deadly intent, her pristine hair falling out at her sudden movements. “Who the fuck do you think you are, fucking my husband? Huh? Who are you, you little tramp?”
“Sage!” Echo cheered breaking the tension “Sage meet Anna. Anna, meet Sage.”
“I’m sorry. I-… who-… I’m not a tramp.” Sage stammered, more than a little taken aback by the sudden shit storm she’d walk in on, but her quick mind swiftly caught up. “Husband? You’re Anna, McQueen’s wife?”
“Of course, I'm his wife, you gold digging whore. He is mine and your open legs can stay the Hell away from him!” Anna stomped forward and stood beside McQueen. Echo was sure Anna was aiming for a power couple dynamic but was sorely mistaken.
“Do not speak to her like that, Anna!” McQueen snapped, turning furious; more than Echo had ever seen. It must have been a shock for Anna too, because she staggered back and paled, surprised that he was angry at her. Echo was sure Anna expected McQueen to be begging at her feet, apologising for allowing such a woman so close to him.
Tears quickly welled in Anna’s eyes, her delicate, manicure hands flying to her chest as her jaw dropped in horrid surprise. “You really have changed.” She whispered looking hurt and confused. “What would your mother say? What would she think to you treating me this way?”
McQueen face went cold and flat, all the while the muscles in his jaw twitched as he ground his teeth. “My mother would have very little to say to me Anna, you know that, so don’t bring her into this.” Now, that intrigued Echo. An estranged relationship with his wife and his mother? Who was next on this growing list?
“Maybe I should-…” Sage said very, very quietly, not wanting to interrupt more.
“Should what?” Anna asked with a snide twist to her lips. “Should leave? Yes, go! Get your skanky ass out of here and away from my husband!” Anna hissed with such venom it even took Echo aback. Sage, it seem, was too and she stood not knowing whether to go or to stay, while there was a twitch in her jaw that suggested she was happy to give Anna a piece of her mind.
“Anna. Enough.” McQueen ordered and his voice was stern; stern enough Anna snapped her mouth closed as if realising she wasn’t winning any points with him. Facing Sage, McQueen turned his back on his wife and Echo felt her spine straighten as she observed something she’d never seen before. Embarrassment. McQueen was embarrassed of his wife. “Sage… I’m sorry. This isn’t-…” he sighed, stuttering to a holt as words failed him.
“No.” Anna screamed again, stamping her foot, “No Canice. You should be apologising to me! You own me an apology, not your whore.” McQueen’s pallor dropped and Echo marvelled at how he kept his composure, but she put it down too two small, soft hands wrapping around his.
Sage's hand reach out to McQueen’s and with a sad smile, his entire body melted. His shoulders dipped, his chin rose, and his posture unclenched. Sage’s wide, pitiful eyes glazed up and Echo could imagine sweet, tweetie birds looping around their heads. Demons below, help them if they truly believed they could ‘just be friends.
“I should come back.” Sage whispered with a soft smile and stepped back. “It’s ok. I can see you have-… you have your hands full.” When McQueen opened his mouth to argue; to spout another apology, Sage just gave his hand another tight squeeze. “It’s ok, McQueen.” She emphasised again, and Echo blinked in disbelief.
Sage had said she’d make a grandstand being Queenie’s friend, but this was ridiculous. The man had a wife. Here. In the apartment and she was just stepping away slowly.
Lost in watching his mistress walking away, McQueen didn’t see how Anna’s whole body stilled, how her shoulders went ridged and the wave of emotion that crossed her face; fear. Echo slowly slinked towards Anna, keeping her footsteps light so the poor rejected woman didn’t know she was there until the last moment.
“You’re not one to ever have competition, are you?” Echo asked, keeping her voice low enough not to disturb Queenie and Sage’s moment, leaning nice and close to Anna's ear. “He’s always been there for you, but now…” Echo trailed off, allowing Anna’s own heartbroken mind fill in the rest. “You’re not his priority in life anymore. Do you think you can cope with that?”
“I-…” But Anna hesitated. Saying she was still Queenie’s priority was an egotistical move, and so far, ramming her love down his throat wasn’t working. Saying she was happy being number two in his life however… “Canice is mine.” She replied, setting her shoulders as if readying herself for a fight. Standing so close, Echo could taste Anna’s thick, oily pride like tar at the back of her throat. Her vanity and sense of superiority… Echo couldn’t wait to see that tower tumble. “Canice is my husband. I have the ring on my finger. Whoever this woman is, she doesn’t stand a chance.”
But Echo watched as Anna twisted said ring, once, twice-… over and over the ring span, all the while Anna’s eyes watched McQueen, never leaving his tall frame.
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Echo answered honestly, inspecting him too. He was speaking in hushed tones, his conversation private, his body hunched keeping himself small and intermate. There might have been four feet between him and Sage, but it might as well have been a hairs width.
“What is it exactly that will keep you and Queenie together, hum?” Echo asked. “Your history? Old news. Your marriage; in crumbles and easily annulled by the church. And let’s face it, your personality is-… well it’s not a sweet, caring, nurturing one is it?” Echo taunted.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Anna snapped, but she even kept her voice low as the doubts filled her mind.
“Don’t I?” Echo asked but left without giving Anna time to reply.
For now, Echo was done. Anna had successfully dug her own grave and all Echo needed to do was trip her into it which would be easy enough. A time would come for that, and Echo suspected it would be sooner than later.
◆◆◆
Carrying herself to the bathroom, Echo suddenly slumped. Physically her body ached, her bruises set into her bones and her eyelids drooped lower with every blink. Leaving the three tortured souls to battle it out, Echo knew a heated shower would work out all her kinks, carry the blood away and settle her mind. A plan was forming, and she knew what she had to do.
Finding the Under-ert would be difficult, but doable. Finding Shade and most of all, the source of Dixie would be a lot harder, but she was determined. Find Dixie and she could gift it to Gala, to Archer, to all the Sins and win their favour. But her biggest problem was dressed in frills of cheap nylon and had a fancy, sixties up-do. Anna being around, whining and chasing Queenie down was not good for her plan. He needed to be focused on Echo and her needs and her plan. She needed him to find the Under-ert.
Looking back from the bathroom doorway, Echo could see Sage leaving, her sad, puppy-dog smile and McQueen generous and lengthy goodbye, probably mixed in with an apology too. Anna however, stood on her own and that was where she needed to stay, on her own away from Queenie. If Echo could make her gone for good…
Smiling, Echo flicked on the shower, not bothering to lock or close the door. Broken and beaten she might have been, confused and unsure about her own role in life maybe, but it would be a frigid day in Hell when Echo didn’t kick an angry hive of repressed emotions and deadly secrets to get what she wanted.
XX
Anna stood with such a look of disgust on her face, McQueen wondered how he’d missed this before; her spitefulness. Her arrogance.
Sage had t
aken one look at the monster he’d married and had understood. She’d then gone on to call the entire thing a ‘situation’ and McQueen hadn’t corrected her. Anna was a situation and she was a situation he had to deal with. For years he’d stupidly run away as if his problems would disappear and the one conversation he didn’t want to have would never arise. But now it was too late. His clock had run out and so had his patience.
“Alright, Anna.” He said as he closed the door and his one escape route. “It seems we are in need of a talk.
Turning he was ready for her anger, snappy comments or even a rude snide remark, but instead Anna was stood still, her arms crossed watching him through tear filled eyes. But even as he regarded her, he couldn’t tell what were real tears and what were fake and if he was honest, he was tired of trying to figure it out.
“I wondered every day in Dublin what could have drawn you too this shit hole in the middle of nowhere?” Anna whispered, shaking her head in some sense of denial. Her voice was full of wonder and sadness, but McQueen didn’t let it draw him in. “What possible reason could have kept you away from me? You have fallen for grace, Canice. You have broken your vows to me on our wedding day. You have committed sacrilege against us; against you wife. You have-,”
“I have done nothing!” McQueen screamed, finally losing it. “I have been honest and true to you from the day we were wed. I have never broken a vow or abandoned the promises I made to you. I have slept with no woman but you, I have loved no woman, but you and I have lost no wife but you!”
The apartment dropped into a stunned silence as McQueen’s words rang true. Echo had gone, the steam billowing out of the open bathroom door while both Reese and Roman’s door remained closed, cutting themselves off from his drama. He was to deal with Anna alone. Breathing, McQueen watched the hurt and confusion pass over Anna’s face, but a few words never unnerve her before, and as angry as she looked, she flipped, suddenly whispering sugar sweet words.
“You haven’t lost me, darling, I’m right here. I came after you because I love you so much. I gave you time and room because I love you so much. You and I are meant to be, like Romeo and Juliet. We will always be. You will always be mine. We will have a life together and a family. You just have to stop all this nonsense and just come back to me.” She said, walking closer, desperate to reduce the distance between them. Rising on her tiptoes, she reached out as if to cup his face and her fragrant perfume washed over him.
McQueen felt the soft pads of her fingertips brush against his cheeks and his traitorous body relaxed under her touch. Soft lips pressed against his and he drank her in, long fingers dragging through his hair and her body against his. When he didn’t pull away, Anan pushed moreleaving not space between them and McQueen’s arms drifted around her waist. He felt the silky fabric as it hugged her curvy figure, the zipper down the back he’d done up a thousand times, and the wisps of hair that had fallen out around the base of her neck. Everything he touched, smelt and tasted were so familiar, so much like home.
Breaking apart, the two of them were breathing heavily and it was Anna who spoke first. Smiling wide, she beamed at him, clutching him tighter still as if she didn’t dare let him go.
“I knew you didn’t hate me. I knew we were to always be together. I love you Canice, baby!” She whispered to him, her soft lips moving into kiss him again, her fingers already out of his hair and tugging as his shirt collar, trying to undo the buttons. But as her lips reached for his, McQueen bent his head back, making her miss him altogether. “Canice?”
Taking a breath and then another, the simple act cleared his head and his heart. With two hands he gently grabbed her wrists and with a gentle but forceful tug he pulled her away.
“Canice?” Anna said again, her voice rising an octave as the panic leeched in. He kept going however, softly pushing her away until they were three feet apart , then four and he kept his eyes down cast, unable to look at her. “Canice, what are you doing?” Anna begged and with the new-found distance, McQueen prayed for a little bit of courage.
“We never would have had a family.” He whispered under his breath, slowly raising his head to look at her.
“Canice,” Anna answered, as if his words were just a silly notion and struggled against his hands. “Yes, we would have. We still can, babe."
McQueen could hear her words, hear the tone of her voice; calm and gentle. She knew what to say and how to say it, but he could see in her face it was a different story. She continued to try to get close to him and as he couldn’t bring himself to restrain her, he stepped aside, pacing away. She was scared, truly scared because things, for a change, were not going her way.
As he walked, Anna followed but she hesitated as McQueen's pace quicken, as did his words.
“No, we never did, Anna. You took that chance away from us.” He tried to look at her as he spoke, knowing where this conversation was going and he couldn’t shy away from her. She was his Anna, had been all his life, but now, he couldn’t run away anymore.
“That day… that day when I came for you at the hospital and we’d lost the baby, that was the end of everything for me. I go back to that moment and ask myself what I could have done differently, what I could have said differently to make everything change, but I can never think of anything.” Slowing his pace, McQueen stood in the centre of the lounge, the coffee table between him and Anna. It was five feet, tops but to McQueen it felt like an ocean. “Everything change on that day for me Anna, and I’ve been fooling myself to think I could ever go back.”
“No, no Canice it wasn’t the end. Nothing could end us.” Anna begged, “You know nothing could have changed what happened. It was, an ugly twist of fate. You know it was. The doctor said so, you were there. How can you still not believe me?” She sobbed, having gone from confused to tearful in a heartbeat.
McQueen shook his head. He knew what the doctor had said, the poor woman had to repeat herself five times before McQueen had heard it; his wife had miscarried. There was nothing they could have done. The fetus was lost but his wife was recovering well…
Hell had never felt closer than in those short few days. He kept waiting for a miracle, for a lab technician to call up and apologise saying they’d made a mistake, that the tests had been swapped or contaminated. He’d waited, and waited, and waited for someone to tell him it was over… but it never came.
“We lost our baby Anna.” He said, feeling every word choke him from the inside out. “We lost our child and you-…” McQueen couldn’t finish his sentence. How could he accuse his wife for not loving their child enough?
“And I what, Canice?” Anna asked, an ugly scowl forming in her face. “I didn’t: care? Didn’t cry? Didn’t what Canice? What did I not do?” She was screaming now, her voice cracking his defensive wallsand breaking his resolve.
“You went out Anna. You went out and I begged you not to. You put yourself in danger and I begged you not to. You put yourself before our child and the result-.” McQueen grit his teeth together and tried to stop. This wasn’t helpful. This wasn’t going to solve anything, but even as he told himself this, he remembered how sick he’d felt, knowing Anna was going out. “I shouldn’t have let you go.” He admitted to her feet, lost in the memory of it all. “I should have known better than to let you go out.”
“Shouldn’t have let me?” Anna screamed. “Let me? What were you going to do Canice? Lock me up and throw away to key?” Anna’s tears had dried and only rage remained. “It was my Hen party! It was my night out with my friends, in my city having the time of my life.”
“And it was my child you were carrying!” McQueen’s voice boomed back, his hands clenching in rage. He made sure to drop his voice back down before he continued because the last thing he needed was a domestic abuse call. “It was my child you were carrying.” He repeated. “My child. Our child and it was everything to me. You shouldn’t have gone. When you do, you can’t control yourself.”
He’d seen it before, the state she came
back in, night after night: drunk, vomit on her chin and barely able to stand. It had been her regular thing to do on a weekend, before becoming regular on a weekday too. At first McQueen had joined her, then he’d taken to picking her up, but weeks became months and then years and he’s just stopped bothering. She hadn’t.