Mercy

by Debra Anastasia

I knew enough about her to film a documentary. Or write a biography.

  And she didn’t know who I was. I could never meet her. I would never touch her.

  But I was hopelessly in love with her.

  She clicked off the app so I couldn’t see her anymore.

  I picked the stuffed llama up and put it in a box, then sealed it with tape. Every box in my basement had her name on it. She was the only one who ever played my app. She was the only one who ever won.

  I had time on my hands. When you looked like me, you had time on your hands.

  Luckily I was good with computers. Really, anything that you could plug in. Computers didn’t expect anything from you. And I could make money with them.

  I’m a self-taught hacker and programmer. And I started because I was looking for her. Becca.

  The day in the supermarket was my first day without my mom. The loss of her and my role in her death defined the rest of my life.

  Becca standing up for me felt like a message from my mom. The little lollipop she gave me with the words “Hug Me” became a lifeline. My mother would ask me to hug her after my dad passed out.

  When I got home with Dad the day I met Becca, he was uniquely silent. He visited the fresh dirt in the backyard three or four times. Somehow little Rebecca had shaken him.

  I waited to see what would become of this new life with him. I was old enough to know that the police would arrest him. I was dumb enough to believe that I would be arrested to.

  For years afterward, if he brought up Mom when he was drunk, he made sure to point out that I was the reason he’d found out that Mom had cheated on him.

  I had to stop myself. I couldn’t do the self-torture tonight. Not when I’d just seen Becca win her prize. And I’d saved a little girl too. It was a good night.

  I took my phone into the bathroom, so if Becca decided to play again, I could get out to the machine in a wet hustle.

  I had a big house. It was a testament to how much bad people would pay to get what they wanted. The bathroom was bigger than most people’s bedrooms. All marble. I peeled off my clothes and tossed them into the hamper. I would have to take a closer look to see if there were any burns on them from the poison I had dealt with.

  I looked at myself in the mirror, now that I was naked.

  I ran my hand down my chest, over my abs and lower. The reflection in the mirror was a fetish for some. I had found a niche for that, so I could know the pleasures of a woman. I was unrecognizable to anyone that knew me before.

  My father would never recognize me.

  And no one would ever mistake me for him again. Our remarkable likeness had been an albatross for me. But I’d fixed it. With ink.

  I tightened my muscles and gave myself a menacing glare, clenching my jaw.

  There was ink from my head to my toes. Even on my scalp, under my hair.

  I was a nightmare, alive and walking. Instead of a boy who turned into a man who looked just like my father, I tattooed a skeleton on my body. On my face.

  I’d rather look like a monster than see my father reflected in the mirror in front of me.

  I turned from the image and started the water in my elaborate shower and felt the bruises that would be lost in the designs on my skin start to develop.

  No one would ever be able to tell if I was hurting again. And that was the way I liked it.

  ~Becca~

  The phone rang and I felt like my eyelids were 4,000 pounds each. Mother Monster’s ringtone. I answered it and set it to speaker before burying my head under my pillow.

  “Becca, darling. Please tell me Alton was everything and then some. I could barely wait for hot yoga to be over. He’s so tall. I know he’s the one. I’m getting my mother-of-the-bride dress freshened up at the dry cleaners. We can do a winter wedding. It’s going to be amazing.”

  “That’s it, Ma. Make sure you take it slow with the expectations and everything.” I rolled out from under my warm blanket. It was 10:30 a.m. The fact that it was past 9:00 a.m. showed how much restraint Mother had used before calling.

  “He’s perfect. And you can get a BMW. It’ll be wonderful. We can drive by your father’s house and show it off.”

  My shoulders slumped again as I carried the phone into the living room.

  “Not that your father would recognize you unless you were wearing a mask with your half-sister’s face on it.”

  Mother was wound up. She’d probably run through a few thousand revenge scenarios in her head.

  I sighed loud enough that the phone’s audio must have picked it up. “I get it.”

  “So tell me everything.”

  “He was nice,” I offered.

  And he’d been nice. There was something plastic about him. Calculated about him. Perfect about him. He would look great in a tux.

  I watched his eyes trail after Henry, and a few of the other waitresses throughout the night. And maybe it was futile, but I wanted to be the center of a man’s attention. I wanted to have his eyes on me when I looked at his face. I wanted the passion to knock me out, knock me over.

  “Nice? He’s more than nice.” She was angry. I was the one thing that never went according to plan.

  “He wants to come to Meme’s later this week.” My backbone felt like it was made of water. Telling her things she wanted to hear would buy me time before I disappointed her again.

  “Well, that’s good. Did he try for a kiss or anything?” She was huffing on her end. Maybe booking it out of the hot yoga studio.

  “I was working so…” I twirled my hair, an old habit Mother brought out in me.

  “Did you make yourself available for a kiss? Men like an invitation. You won’t be beautiful forever. You can’t waste time, Rebecca.” I heard her car start.

  “Sure, Mom. I’ll work on that. Why don’t I let you drive and we can talk about it later?” I sat on my hand so I could force myself to stop twirling.

  “Okay. But I want you to really think about how you’re going to prepare for his next visit. Be available. Be ready.” Mother ended the call.

  There had to be a better way than just telling her the things that made her happy. It was like prolonging a façade. One I’d been groomed for forever since my dad left.

  I needed to work out and then maybe check out the claw machine game. I’d just played and won last night, and I should pace myself. But some things were just mindless fun.

  I walked to the front door when I heard a bang, like something had just fallen against it.

  I unlocked the door and swung it open.

  I was face to helmet with a man holding a box.

  6

  BOX DROP

  Fenix

  Shit.

  She opened the door, and I never expected that. Usually when I dropped off her prizes, she was asleep.

  But today, I was holding the box I’d just dropped, checking it for damage when Becca was standing there.

  She was wearing a pink tank top and tiny sleep shorts. My jaw dropped.

  I knew what she looked like. I’d been watching her for years. But to be this close to her—to see how small she was in reality—it was making me tongue-tied.

  “My llama!” Becca reached her hands out to me. “Damn that place ships fast. Do you work for a delivery service or something? Because the mail usually comes in the afternoon.”

  She was talking to me. Holding her hands out to me.

  “I dropped it.” I held it out.

  “It’s okay. It’s not fragile. Hold on. Let me get you a tip.”

  She closed the door while she retreated inside.

  I could see myself in the reflection of the glass. How she saw me.

  I was completely covered. Black leather jacket with black gloves, black pants, and motorcycle boots. My helmet had a super dark tint that revealed nothing about my face or my identity as long as I left it on.

  I didn’t need the tip—obviously. But I had to wait to keep up the ruse. I should have left.

  I craved more of
her. In the flesh. In front of me.

  She came back to the door, a wallet in her hands. “I couldn’t find a tip app on my phone. I’m sorry. How much is normal? I don’t know.”

  Her hair was caught up in a messy ponytail. One piece had avoided being gathered, and it showed off how long her hair would be. Was.

  “A dollar?” I shrugged. I didn’t know.

  I knew she couldn’t see if I peeked at her incredible rack that the tank top was doing a horrible job of hiding. I still kept my eyes on her face.

  “I’m just a waitress. I should have a good idea, though. I suck.” She held out three dollars.

  “You’re much more than just anything.”

  In person I could see hints of the girl who stood up for me so long ago. The messy hair helped. She usually had it styled when I saw her in the camera phone.

  Her gaze flicked up to my visor. The unease was just under her smile.

  I’d gone too far. I stepped back and held up my hands. “No. Thanks. I dropped it and everything.”

  I wanted to take my helmet off and thank her for standing up for me when no one else would. Or could.

  That was impossible. “Have a good day.”

  She still held out the money. “You’re sure? Okay. You too. Have a great day.”

  I turned and forced myself to walk normally. Which of course resulted in a zombie-like march that made me want to punch myself in the face.

  I’d spoken to Becca.

  And she’d wished me a good day.

  My heart felt like a hot air balloon.

  I took my bike four blocks before I realized I was headed in the wrong direction. She’d frazzled me. I turned around and headed home. Becca sometimes liked to jump on the app after opening her latest win and I wanted to be there for it.

  When she clicked on the app, and I wasn’t able to be there, it would either say that someone else was playing, with a video of me running the machine through a few wins, or a placard saying repairs were being made.

  I got home and stripped off my riding gear, finally down to just pants and a sleeveless shirt.

  In my house, I could be dressed like any other guy.

  I was so interested in getting to the basement to make sure the stuffed bunnies were set up for her, I missed the man standing in my living room.

  ~Becca~

  I double-checked my outfit. White blazer, dark jeans, and nude pumps. My hair was pin straight with the flyaways tamed by expensive gel. The gel was, of course, a gift from my mother. My makeup was on point, and that was good. I felt the butterflies in my stomach as I gave myself a critical once-over.

  Never good enough. Of course. There would be something that my mother would suggest to help me improve. I checked my claw app and saw that the repair sign was up. I frowned. I really loved the game, but I would have to see if there was anything else out there like it if it went out for repairs a lot.

  I put my phone in my purse after texting Henry a picture of my outfit. The phone lit up the inside of my nude-colored purse with her answer.

  Stunning. You look like a model.

  I sent her a smiley face before zipping my purse.

  After grabbing my empty cardboard box to drop in the recycling bin outside, I gave my new win a smile.

  The llama sat on my couch among the pillows. Tomorrow he could join the others in my spare bedroom. But today I liked seeing him out and about.

  I locked the door behind me and tossed the box into the bin. My car was not flashy, and Mom turned her nose up at my Focus. The payments were reasonable and made sense for my budget. I was still paying off college loans, so I made sure my choices weren’t out of control.

  On my ride to my mom’s favorite bistro, I looked in my visor mirror at every other stoplight to make sure my makeup was still in place.

  I had an ex-boyfriend bill me as high-maintenance. And I guess I fit that description, but my desire to look perfect was a hope to make my mom happy. I was her only person. My grandmother and grandfather passed away soon after I was born. Mom was an only child. It was my job to be everything she needed.

  I parked and checked one last time. Mom’s BMW was already there. She could barely afford the payments on it, but it was a must. She had to look good driving.

  I found her on the outdoor patio, glass of wine already in hand.

  I gave her an air kiss. I could feel her assessing me from behind her large sunglasses.

  “You look pretty.” Mom inclined her head as I sat.

  “So do you.”

  And she did. Mother Monster was rocking a navy blouse and a straight white skirt.

  I knew her shoes that were under the table would be amazing as well.

  “Rebecca, have you heard from Alton?”

  I blanked out for a moment. This was what Mom wanted for me. Even Alton’s name fit in her mouth better than my own. Fancy.

  I closed my eyes and pictured the delivery guy from this morning. Dressed in all black. So mysterious but sweet seeming at the same time. I mean, who delivers packages on a motorcycle?

  “Rebecca?”

  “No, Mom. Not yet.” I picked up the menu and put it between us.

  “We can’t rest on our laurels with this one. I think it’s okay to make a call and tell him you had a lovely time.” My mother put her hand lightly on my forearm.

  The waitress came and took our order. I declined the wine because I could easily see myself having ten to fifteen glasses.

  My mother took off her sunglasses and set them next to her utensils.

  When I saw her arched brow, I was shocked. Mom wasn’t wearing eye makeup.

  She gave me a sad smile in reaction to my obviously surprised face.

  “Hard to see an old lady without all her smoke and mirrors, huh?” My mother patted her face.

  “No. Actually, I think you look beautiful.” I recovered. The face I was looking at reminded me of late nights and happy times. When I had Mom to myself and we were done for the evening. It was my favorite version of her.

  I waited her out. There had to be a reason. And the pit in my stomach was filling me with dread.

  Seeing my mother without makeup on in public felt like watching a ship sink. It was something that rarely happened.

  “I had the results from my tests today.” She exhaled audibly.

  “What tests?” I felt a panic rising in me. She was having tests and not telling me? We were making time to talk about Alton, but not tests?

  “I didn’t want to worry you,” Mom offered.

  “That’s bullshit.” I watched her recoil at my curse. “What’s going on?”

  “Sweetheart, it was a lump. And I’ve had them before and they were nothing. But not this time. This time it was something.” Mom pulled some tissues out of her bag, and as she dabbed at her eyes, I figured out why her makeup was gone.

  “Is it cancer?” I reached for her hand now.

  “It’s just a little cancer. Just a little. I’ll be fine. It’ll be okay.” Mom squeezed my hand.

  I sat back as tears crowded my eyes. I was petrified and simultaneously mad that she would tell me this here.

  “I should’ve done this somewhere else. I’m sorry.” Mom held out her other hand near her eyes. “I just wanted us to have a normal day.”

  I let go and stood up. I knew she didn’t like scenes. But this was my mom. And she’d just found out she had cancer.

  I came around the table and pulled her up into my arms. I hugged her tight, letting my tears fall. “You’re damn straight it’ll be okay. I’m going to fight this with you the whole time. I love you, Mom.”

  And then my fairly strict, wedding-obsessed mother fell apart in my arms.

  I held her up.

  I repeated what she told me every night before bed when I was little, “I’ve got you. You and me. Together. Forever.”

  Mom was complicated and infuriating, but she was my family. My only family and I refused to do without her.

  ~Fenix~

  “A m
an can get killed surprising me.” I didn’t need to reach for a weapon. This time.

  Animal was intimidating. And he sort of worked for me, currently.

  “You’d never make a mistake that big, sweetness.” He lifted his eyebrows.

  We embraced with a back-slapping hello.

  I skipped the small talk. “You find him?”

  My father. Dreams of him woke me from a sound sleep in a panic.

  “No, but I found a few hints. Wanna sit?” Animal motioned to the couch.

  “Let me get us some drinks.” I headed to my kitchen.

  “No, let’s just talk first.” Animal sat and looked at me expectantly.

  We spent some time in a school for troubled kids together a long time ago. My first day was his 1,865th.

  He refused to let any of the other kids mess with me. I never figured out why. But I never forgot either.

  He was my only friend then, and was still the only person I trusted. He was just immense. Six foot eight of dark handsome. He read a room like a scholar and would give me the lowdown in a husky whisper.

  “That man’s carrying. That guy’s wired. That girl’s a cop.”

  He was never wrong. His watchfulness was his survival. It was his damn superpower.

  He usually refused to work with me on the projects I got myself involved in. But this personal project—that he was willing to do. He had things that he did on the side. We each had our own orbits, but they always collided.

  I was avoiding hearing more about my father, trying to get a buzz before I heard words that would ignite the fire in me all over. And Animal knew this. He read me too.

  I sat. His was advice I would take ninety-eight percent of the time. If I had designed a big brother to perfection, the recipe would be titled Animal. We were blood brothers in a way that lasted forever.

  “I found receipts in Texas in a hotel. I was able to find the person that sold him a burner phone. Your father is a chatter now.”

  “Still a liar, though,” I added. My hands were curled into fists.

  “Family is complicated, baby.” Animal cracked his knuckles. He had thick silver rings on three of them. One was in the shape of a skull. For me. His arms were covered with varying white tattoos depicting tigers.