by Brina Brady
“No, I didn’t know about him. Nothing was going on with me and Mr. Benson.”
“Why don’t you call Darius and straighten this out?”
“I need to have some time to think.”
“I know you want Darius. He wants you too. I see how he looks at you while you dance.”
“He doesn’t want me to dance. That’s why he shows up every night. I need to be able to work without relying on him. It has to be me who gets my own job. I want Darius, but he doesn’t understand me. We’ll never work out.”
“Don’t say that. You’re upset because of your family. You can’t control that so you want to control Darius and dump him. You’re afraid of losing control of your life.”
“So what? I can’t take any more pain. Darius should’ve asked me what I was doing instead of running out on me. You don’t have to stay here if you want to leave.”
“Mr. Benson wants me here with you, and he doesn’t want you to leave.”
“I’m going to bed.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Darius
Darius blasted the volume on his radio as if the heavy beats could drown out the pain of Abel betraying him. How could his Baby Bear sit on Benson’s lap now they were together? He didn’t have any more forgiveness cards left to play in this game. Abel hadn’t even turned around to look at him or attempt to explain what he was doing on Benson’s lap. Darius parked behind the diner and raced inside. He went to the small office behind the kitchen without speaking to anyone. He sat in his chair and picked up the phone.
“What’s up, Darius?” Noah asked.
“I want to kill Benson.” He opened the side drawer of his desk and pulled out a small bottle of whiskey. He chugged on it.
“Hey. Stop. Tell me what’s going on?”
“I walked into Benson’s office, and Abel was sitting on his fucking lap.”
“So, what were they doing?”
“I don’t know. He shouldn’t be sitting on his lap. Maybe they were going to do something.”
“What did Abel say?”
“That’s just it. He didn’t say one thing to me. He didn’t even look at me. Benson said it wasn’t what it looked like. I turned around and left. I’m losing it.”
“If I saw Sammy on anyone’s lap, I would’ve pulled him off and, after I beat his ass, find out why. Why did you leave him there?”
“I couldn’t deal with this shit again. I don’t want him anymore. I’m not going to the club tonight. He’s on his own. I’m done.”
“I told you it wouldn’t work with him working there, but this sounds worse than it is. Calm down. Did they have their clothes on?”
“Yes, of course. Maybe they were about to strip when I showed up.” Darius’s stomach turned sour.
“Why couldn’t you ask them before taking off?”
“I told you. I can’t go through this shit again. I thought Abel was different than Lucas.”
“He’s different.”
“He’s worse.”
“No, he’s not. I have some interesting news.”
“What kind of news?”
“Chaska married Lucas. He gave notice that he’s leaving the group and moving to California.”
“That’s great news. When?”
“The movers are coming tomorrow.”
“Good for them. I never have to see Chaska again.”
“Find Abel and make it work.” Noah hung up, and Darius stepped into the kitchen to talk to Emma.
“You’re to open and close the diner until further notice. I have to go somewhere.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Nothing for you to worry about. Call me if you have any problems.” He kissed her on the cheek and left.
As he drove away from the diner, with no destination in mind, Benson’s car was entering the diner’s parking lot. He didn’t want to talk to him, even though he could see Abel wasn’t with him. He needed some time to think about what he’d actually seen and what emotions he’d attached to it. He wasn’t even sure if he’d seen Abel sitting on his boss’s lap. Why hadn’t Abel turned around and looked at him when he’d entered? Probably because he didn’t have an excuse for what he was doing. But what had he been doing? Not kissing. Benson had had his laptop facing them. Were they looking at porn together?
So many images raced through his mind, and none of them were pleasant. He wanted to erase what he had seen. Maybe he should’ve walked into the office properly. For that matter, he should’ve just stayed at the diner where he belonged instead of snooping on Abel. He hated what he’d become after Lucas had left him. He didn’t know who to trust anymore; he hated the insecurity and jealousy that was drowning him. He hated who he was today. If he had meant what he had told Abel, he would’ve confronted him at the time instead of running. This was fucking bullshit. He was an idiot and needed to take back his power.
He made a U-turn and drove straight back to the club, where he parked beside Abel’s car. He scanned the club, hoping to find Benson, but he came up empty. He wasn’t at the bar either.
“What can I get you?” the bartender asked.
“Where’s Benson?”
“He’s not here. He left with one of the boys.”
“Which boy?”
“Abel.”
“Where were they going?”
“He didn’t say, but he said he’d be back soon.”
“Thanks.”
“I can make you a drink if you want to wait for Mr. Benson.”
“Scotch on the rocks.” Darius sat on one of the stools.
A man took the seat beside Darius and ordered a beer, then opened a newspaper. Darius had seen him before in the club, but he didn’t know him enough to talk to him.
“Damn, did you see what happened in Mexico?” the man asked.
“No, I didn’t get a chance to check the news yet.”
The man showed him the front page with the picture of the bullet-riddled vans.
“What the hell happened?” Darius asked.
“These Gardner cult members were driving back to Utah for a wedding. Of course, the leader wasn’t among them. A Mexican cartel gunned them all down. I wished they’d gotten the leader instead of the women and children.”
Darius picked up the paper and read the article. Now, everything made sense. Benson had been consoling Abel over this gruesome attack on his family. As he studied the picture closer, he saw Abel resembled his mother. He had his mother’s eyes. He wanted to shoot himself for not finding out what had been going on. He picked up his drink and took a few sips when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around and faced Benson.
“Where’s Abel?”
“I took him to my house because he’s upset. He’s with Keon, another dancer.”
“Were you showing him the article about the slaughter of his family earlier?”
“Yes. He’s very angry with his father and out of his mind with grief for his family. He blames himself because he tried to get them to leave, but they wouldn’t. He needs you more than ever. And he can have all the time off he needs.”
“So, tell me how he landed on your lap?” Darius folded his arms with the hope he’d refrain from punching the old man. It was all he could do to control his anger.
“I told him I wanted him to read something, but I wanted to be close to him when he did. He didn’t want to sit on my lap, but I wanted him to know I was there to help him and he wasn’t alone.”
“I don’t want Abel sitting on your lap again.”
“Instead of fighting with me, you should go to him. You know where my house is. Go take care of him.”
Darius pulled his wallet out to pay for his drink, but Benson pushed it away.
“The drink is on me. His car is in the parking lot. It can stay there until you want to pick it up.”
“Thanks.” He sent Abel a message.
Darius: We need to talk now. Call me.
He rushed out of the club and drove to Benson’s home. It was up a big hill, near the wa
ter where he kept his boat. He parked in the driveway, made his way to the house, and rang the doorbell.
No one answered. He looked through the windows. The front room was empty, but the TV was on. Why wasn’t anyone answering? He rang the bell again, then pounded on the door. Keon, he presumed, answered the door.
“Where’s Abel?”
“Come in,” Keon said. “He’s in the guestroom—down the hall, the first room on the left. He said he didn’t want to talk anymore and needed to sleep.”
“How is he?”
“Upset. Really upset. He really needs you now.”
“I know.” Darius went to the closed door and listened for any sounds, then, not hearing any, opened the door. The comforter was rumpled but no sign of Abel. The window was open, the screen on the carpet. He must have climbed out of the window. Where would he go? He looked outside, but no signs of Abel. He returned to the front room, where Keon was relaxing on the couch, watching TV.
“He’s not in there,” Darius said. “The bedroom window was opened. He’s left.”
“I saw him go in there. His door never opened.” Keon stood up immediately and turned the TV off. “Let’s search the house first. I’ll check on the second floor. You look down here.”
As Darius walked down the hallway, Keon raced down the stairs and nearly bumped into him.
“He’s not upstairs.”
“I checked the kitchen and dining area. He’s not there,” Darius said.
“Damn, he didn’t look like he was in any condition to go for a walk.”
“What was the last thing he said to you?”
“He said he wanted to kill his father and make him suffer. He can hardly walk to Mexico, can he?”
“Call his friends. If you find him, call me.” Darius handed Keon a card.
“I will. I’ll have to call Mr. Benson too. He told me to watch him. I never thought he’d climb out of a window.”
“He might have decided to take a walk to think about things. I’m going to look for him in the woods behind the house first, so call if you hear from or see him.”
“Did you call him?” Keon asked.
Darius pulled his phone out. Nothing. Abel hadn’t called or messaged him. He had to find him.
“I sent him a message, but I’ll call him now.” Darius tapped Abel’s number. The phone rang and rang, then went to voicemail.
“Abel, call me. We need to talk. Tell me where you are, and I’ll come and get you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Abel
Abel ran down the path behind Mr. Benson’s house to the main street. He had to get back to the club for his car. He had no idea where his father was, but he wanted to find him. He wanted to talk to someone who knew what had happened. His family was dead, but he’d shared an apartment with three guys, and they might have more information. Tears were streaming down his cheeks faster than he could fist them away. He was a mess. His stomach hurt so much that he had to sit down at the foot of a tree. He threw up until all that was left was bile. He was dizzy and weak. He lay on the ground and closed his eyes.
So many things were going on in his mind; he was hurting so badly over his family. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He looked at the message from Daddy Darius.
Darius: We need to talk now. Call me.
Talk. There was no way he could discuss what had happened and defend why he’d been sitting on Mr. Benson’s lap. He was the wrong boy for Daddy Darius. He knew it looked bad, and it was. Yes, he could’ve stooped or knelt beside Mr. Benson, but like a robot, he’d sat on his lap because he was told to do so, and he always listened to older men. But no more. From now on, his decisions would be based on what he wanted, not what others wanted. He needed to take his future into his own hands. Everything he’d ever wanted, he’d had with Daddy Darius, but with one slipup, it was all gone.
Thinking about Daddy Darius made him sad, but at this point, sadness was better than the anger he had for his father. The anger ate him up inside, clouding the memories of his family. And he wanted to remember his mother and sister. He closed his eyes and pictured them, their smiling faces now gone forever. His phone rang, but he didn’t answer it. Instead, he waited for Daddy Darius to leave a message. He clicked on the voicemail and listened.
Darius said, “Abel, call me. We need to talk. Tell me where you are, and I’ll come and get you.”
The tears fell again, but Abel picked himself up and started walking to the club. He said he would come and get me. Does he know what happened? Does he still want me? Probably not. Luckily, he didn’t have a long walk to the club’s parking lot. He found his car and jumped in. He needed to get his things from the cabin before he left, but he wasn’t sure where Daddy Darius was. He was about halfway down the cabin when his car slowed down. A glance at his dashboard told him he was out of gas, so he pulled over to the side of the road. Now what? Everything was going against him. He needed help, but he didn’t want to call anyone. Though the idea of sitting on the side of the road scared him. If he called Mr. Benson, he might get angry with him for leaving his house. He couldn’t call any of the dancers because his whereabouts might get back to Mr. Benson.
He thought about calling Sammy, but he was working at the diner with Daddy Darius. So he couldn’t really ask him to leave. He could call Daddy Darius, but he was afraid of his rejection, especially after he’d slammed the door when he left Mr. Benson’s office. So many things were wrong right now, and he had no idea what to do or how to fix anything. It was getting darker outside, and he had to make a decision. As nervous as he was, he picked up his phone to call Daddy Darius. All he got was a black screen. Great, he had a dead phone and a car without gas in the middle of nowhere. He dropped his head on the wheel and hoped for a miracle.
***
Darius
Darius figured the dirt road would lead to the main street, and he drove slowly, scanning each side of the road for Abel. Most likely, Abel would return to the club for his car because the cabin was too far away to walk. What must be going on in his mind? The most important thing Darius had to convey to Abel was he’d be safe with him, that he had nothing to fear. Darius would be the first to admit he was a failure as a Papa Bear, leaving Benson’s office so abruptly without checking to see how Abel was. But he planned to correct his mistakes and fight for Abel. If he’d only stopped to ask Abel why he was on Benson’s lap. After talking to Benson, he understood the situation and that the old man had only had good intentions. From here on in, Darius would be there for Abel. He would help Abel make new memories, good ones to replace the horror of his childhood and the gruesome attack on his family.
Darius finally arrived at the club. Abel’s car was missing. Where could he have gone? He called Sammy at the diner. Maybe he would know.
“Have you heard from Abel?” Darius asked.
“No. Is something wrong?”
“Yes, he’s disappeared, but I’m looking for him. His family was killed in a grisly attack. If he calls you, tell him I want him to come home, and if he needs help, let me know. Help him if he doesn’t want me to, and I’ll pay you back for what he needs.”
“Oh no. I’ll call him now and hope he answers me.”
“Thanks.”
Darius started the car and took the route to his cabin, paying close attention to the sides of the road. He didn’t know who else to call who might know where Abel was. His phone rang. “Did you find Abel?” Benson asked.
“No. He left your house, and his car is missing.”
“Keon told me he disappeared. He was very upset. We both called and left messages, but he hasn’t responded to us. I don’t like him driving the way he’s feeling.”
“I’m looking for him. If he calls, let me know.”
“Will do. Let me know too.”
Up ahead, a car was parked on the side of the road. He sped up and stopped behind it. Abel! He jumped out of his car and ran to Abel’s car. He looked through the window, but the car was empty. Why would he stop here
and abandon his car? It didn’t look like he’d gotten in an accident. He punched the hood of Abel’s car out of frustration. So close and yet so far from Abel. Darius called a tow truck to pick up Abel’s car. The tow truck arrived shortly after the driver checked a few things and said the car was out of gas.
“Tow it to your garage, fill it up with gas, then deliver it to this address.” Darius handed the man a card. The man wrote up a sales slip.
“Is this your car?”
“It belongs to my partner, who lives with me.”
He just ran Darius’s card and handed it back for him to sign. The tow truck returned to town, while Darius continued his way to his cabin. Poor Abel ran out of gas. That’s going to have to be a morning check from now on. But why wasn’t he returning messages? Maybe he’d forgotten to charge his phone as well. Another check in the morning for Abel. Darius had no idea Abel was so absentminded. But that could wait. Now he just had to find him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Abel
The aching in Abel’s chest was agonizing, hurting like a deep knife slash. Even breathing and swallowing caused him discomfort. He looked around for anything threatening, but the darkness limited his choices of which way he should go. He used all his energy to keep from panicking. His mind raced with thoughts of his mother and sister covered in blood. The only hope he had was that it had been over quickly so they hadn’t suffered, but he didn’t know that as a fact. He forced himself to relive their fear and pain near the end. In his mind, his body had reached a certain threshold of pain and despair. There was no way around it; they must have suffered in every possible way.
There was no hope…they were the beautiful and good part of his horrendous past, and now they were gone while he was left behind. He had lost his family a long time ago, but now he could never get them back. Why hadn’t he been able to force them to leave the cult? His anger turned to hate for his father, bringing old feelings to the surface. He stumbled over a small branch, pulling him away from his immediate thoughts. He’d walked through the woods with the hope of finding the shortcut to the gas station, but after he’d walked for what felt like hours, he finally rested on the grass.