by Hazel Parker
Malcolm.
I could fucking find Malcolm and kill him myself.
I could find him, punch his teeth out, choke him to death, kick him…
OK, I was getting a little out of control, I admit. I didn’t want to go to jail, and even if Izzy and I weren’t serious, I had my life to think about. I could see that that asshole would suffer without me ever meeting him, even if it was far less satisfying than I would have wanted.
But it wasn’t really about satisfaction or what I wanted. It was about delivering justice.
The court system wasn’t enough. I think Izzy had said something about how he had gone to jail before, but clearly, that had not served to stop him from doing the heinous things he had now. And even if so, the courts were slow and had to follow things like “due process”—great for a country, not so great when it came to wanting to inflict Wild West type of justice on some asshole.
But…
How?
I knew the answer, or what I thought was the answer. I was just deliberately trying to consider all other possibilities that didn’t involve jokes about my family’s background being involved with stereotypical associations. But no, there were none, because if there was anything else, it would have sprung to mind the instant I saw Izzy’s shattered beauty. A sight like that wasn’t the kind of thing that allowed you to sit in an empty room and ponder all possibilities.
My body literally shaking with rage, I picked up my phone. Again, Scott tried to call.
“God fucking damnit!” I roared as I hit ignore. Did he not understand that I truly did not give a shit about money right now?
I called my Uncle Nick out in Las Vegas.
“Nick, buddy,” he said. “What’s going on?”
“Hey, Nick, I need to get right to the point,” I said. “I know you have connections of some kind to some shady people. I know the Ferrari family as a whole almost certainly does. I don’t care about specifics, but I have an ask. My girlfriend just got beat up by her ex. I have no idea where her ex is, but I want him found, and I want him taken care of. Can you take care of that? Make sure he doesn’t make the same mistake again?”
My uncle laughed.
“Buddy, I don’t know what you think we are, but we’re a winery, not—”
“Nick,” I said, taking a breath. “You can drop the bullshit with me, OK? I don’t need to know details, but we all heard your call with Layla. We know what’s up.”
A very long silence came at the other end of the line. I was fine waiting for Nick to take three minutes to find his words if that’s what it took. I was fine waiting a fucking hour, really. I wasn’t going anywhere until I knew that justice would be coming.
“Nick,” my uncle finally said. “You need to think very carefully about what you are asking about. You think you’re asking for a job, but things like that are rarely a job gets done, client gets paid type of deal. Once you go there…”
He let the words hang, having heavily emphasized “there.”
“You can never turn back. You need to make absolutely certain that this is what you want to do—”
“Of course it fucking is, I—”
“Nick!”
I bit my lip.
“Take five minutes and think about it. If you still want to do this, call me back—and don’t call me before five minutes have passed, or I won’t help you. If you don’t want help, then don’t call me again today. But I am warning you. You go there, you create a world of chaos. And I don’t just mean for yourself. I mean for all the Ferraris.”
Uncle Nick hung up before I could say another word. Still seated in the Tesla, still driven almost entirely by rage and anger, I wanted nothing more than to call him back and say that his game was fucking stupid, that we didn’t have time to wait five minutes…
But I forced myself to get out of the car and start walking. I didn’t know if it would do any good, but almost by default, it had to do some good somehow. Sitting in the car certainly wasn’t helping.
I mean for all the Ferraris. So, OK, Layla and Brett might get entangled somehow. Maybe my dad. Would grandpa? He was the one rumored…
And grandma? Would she? I had to imagine even criminals had some form of code and respect for picking on the weak; but, then again, there was so much I didn’t know about grandma and grandpa…
Was it worth dragging the entire Ferrari family into a dark abyss just so I could get revenge on Izzy’s ex? Was that really worth it? Why couldn’t I just let the courts do their thing?
Well, for starters, I didn’t even know if the police had arrested the asshole yet, and if they hadn’t, he’d probably learned some shit about being on the run. I never got the impression he was a criminal mastermind of sorts, but I also didn’t get the impression he’d be appearing on America’s Dumbest Criminals anytime soon, either. He’d be on the run long enough to cause us stress.
Whereas this…
This could send a message, get the point across, and then let things be without much evidence to follow.
And while this might have been a terrible decision when it came to finances, when it came to personal relief, I was much less concerned with “paying a debt” of a personal kind later than I was about making sure Izzy was OK and would be OK.
I pulled out my phone and looked at our text messages. She was such a cheerful and happy person. I thought about her from last night and this morning. She looked beautiful.
Her exterior beauty had been shattered, but more than that, I feared what would happen to her emotional well-being. Far be it for me to empathize with a woman who had just been abused when I had never even faced the risk of it, let alone actually had it happen, but I had to guess this wasn’t something she’d just brush off like a bad day at work.
I had to make sure “probably never again” truly became “never again.”
I checked the time. I cross-referenced it against the end of our call. Seven minutes had passed.
I dialed my uncle back.
“Nick?”
“Do it,” I said. “Take care of him.”
Chapter 18: Izzy
Three Days Later
“And look who it is! Look who’s on the screen!”
I burst into happy tears at the sight of my son on the FaceTime screen, seated by my father, who had instructed Ryan to look toward the phone.
“Mommy!” he said.
He didn’t seem worried about the bruises that still remained on my face. He hadn’t seen the worst of it, thanks in part to the work of doctors to ameliorate swelling and other issues, but there were some marks and scars that would be a part of me for a long, long time. By now, though, I was just happy that my son was safe and that Malcolm was behind prison bars. The rest would take care of itself.
“How are you, sweetie?”
“Mommy, where are you?”
God, how innocent and cute he sounded. To him, I had just gone on a long vacation. He’d understand the horrible truth someday, but for right now, it was good to see that he was just happy to see me.
“I’m at the hospital, baby; it’s where people who are sick or hurt go to get better.”
“How are you sick, Mommy?”
Oh, in a lot of ways, I thought with a forced smile for Ryan. Sick of having to deal with this shit. Sick of having to look over my shoulder. Sick of wondering if this will be the last time I ever have to deal with him.
“Mommy ran into some trouble,” I said, which felt like the most truthful answer I could give that wouldn’t hurt my boy too much. “But she is getting better, and she fully expects to see you by the end of today.”
“Yay! I miss you, Mommy.”
Oh, my God, I was about to cry again. At least this time, I was going to cry tears of joy and not tears of exhaustion or frustration.
“I miss you too, sweetie. I’ll come see you tonight.”
“OK!”
With that, my father grabbed the camera back.
“So, as you can see, little Ryan here is just fine,”
he said. “Hey, go run off. Grandpa needs to talk to your mother. OK, sorry. Are you feeling OK?”
I nodded.
“They’ve shown me that Malcolm was arrested, so I feel safe,” I said. “Shaken, but safe.”
My father nodded.
“I…I wish I had words to help you, honey,” he said. “I have never had to encounter anything like this, so I don’t—”
“Don’t worry about it, Dad,” I said. If I saw my father start to break down, I knew I’d lose it even worse than I had so far. “The important thing is he’s in jail and I’m recovering.”
“OK,” he said with a smile and watery eyes. “Just—”
“Ms. Saunders?”
I turned away from the screen momentarily, causing my father to cut himself off. I scrunched my eyebrow at the sight.
“This just came in for you.”
It was a bouquet of flowers…the exact same kind that had been waiting for me at my desk when I had finished the career fair presentation at Fresno State. And there was a letter attached to them.
“Iz?” my father said, using his nickname for me. “Is everything all right?”
“Yeah, actually…” I said, grabbing the flowers from the nurse, who quickly left. My father looked on wide-eyed as I stared at the flowers. “I guess things are really all right.”
I rummaged through the edge of the bouquet and found the envelope with the note inside. I opened it and read it aloud so my father could hear.
“I’m so sorry; this is all my fault. Hope I can see you soon. Your Secret Admirer.”
I put the card down, feeling my heart surge. Suddenly, the agonizing soreness of my ribs and the sensitivity of my skin to touch didn’t seem quite as bad as it had before.
“Is it his fault?”
“Oh, Dad, no, that’s just…that’s just Nick trying to take responsibility when he really has none.”
“But that photo—”
“Wasn’t his fault, Dad,” I said. I knew he was just trying to be a protective father, but he didn’t need to now. “Nick has been the best thing to happen to me since I moved back to the Bay Area. He’s kind, he’s sweet, he’s funny, and now he’s showing he’s concerned for me. He’s everything Malcolm is not.”
My Dad sighed, but with a gentle smile on his face.
“You know I’m just the Papa Bear for you right now, honey,” he said. “Your mother is so nice, but someone has to play the role of grumpy gramps to make sure people don’t get hurt.”
“I know, I know,” I said. “But trust me. Even at the beginning with Malcolm, there was always a gnawing feeling in the back of my mind that he could be trouble. But I don’t have that with Nick. The only thing I worry about is if the public catches wind, but since Malcolm is in jail…”
Of course, left unsaid was that that had happened, and I was currently paying a devastating price for it. I didn’t want to say it was worth it because it was absolutely not. This would scar me and remain with me for most likely the rest of my life.
But…there was something, as fucked up as it sounded, to be said for the worst happening and having survived it, so now we could move forward as a couple.
“I understand,” my father said. “Your mother wants me to help clean the garden, so I suppose I’ll go do that. But you call me the instant you so much as get a fleeting suspicion that Malcolm might be out or have escaped. Understood?”
“Yes, Dad,” I said with a gentle eye roll. “Go help Mom. I’ll talk to you later.”
“All right, sweetie, love you.”
“Love you too, Dad.”
And with that, I was back alone in my hospital room.
But in some sense, with the stash of flowers still in my lap and the handwritten note, I wasn’t really alone, not as much as I thought I was. I knew that he wasn’t going to be able to visit me right now, not with a “family only” rule in place for the first little bit, but given that the doctors said I could be discharged by the end of the day, I had hopes that I could finally get free tonight.
A knock came at my door.
“Come in.”
The door opened.
And wouldn’t you know it, Nick Ferrari stood there, looking as handsome and sexy as ever. He was wearing a leather jacket—it was a cool day outside—a white t-shirt, tight-fitting jeans, and a San Francisco Giants hat. For someone who had wanted to go incognito, it was almost like he wanted the world to know that I was his.
I was so enamored with his appearance, in fact, that I failed to see the second bouquet of flowers in his left hand.
“Are you growing a garden at your house?” I said. “That, or you’re keeping all of the florists in business.”
“One of the two,” he said with a smirk as he shut the door. “How are you?”
“Good,” I said as he leaned forward to kiss me. He was extraordinarily cautious not to touch any part of my body except my lips, but I nevertheless put my hands on his face and held the kiss in close. “Really, I’m good now that you’re here.”
“You’re too sweet,” he said. “Especially since—”
“Don’t say it,” I said. “This is not your fault, Nick. You’re not responsible for a sociopath’s decisions or for my deciding to date that asshole.”
Nick looked like he wanted to combat me, but for the moment, I’d stymied him from saying anything else.
“The only thing you’re responsible for in this is how you treat me and what you say about me, whether that’s with your family or in the public. And so far, you have been nothing but an absolute joy.”
“Like I said, you’re too sweet,” he said with a sigh. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come earlier. Hospital—”
“Rules say family only, I know. I guess they relaxed that?”
“More like I just kept calling until someone fell for the fact that a famous baseball player wanted to visit a patient,” he said with a guilty smirk. “They probably think I’m doing some Make-a-Wish foundation thing or something. I suppose I should do one of those soon before karma kicks my ass. But I just had to see you, whatever it took.”
“Aw, Nick, that’s the sweetest fucked up thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”
We both laughed. I had to stop because my ribs still hurt like hell, but the joy Nick gave me didn’t stop.
“How long do you have to stay here for?” he asked.
“I can actually go later today,” I said. “They just want to make sure my vitals remain stable, and then they’ll let me out.”
“Really!” he said with an exuberant smile on his face.
I knew that my affection and attraction to him made it hard for me to see him any other way other than as the handsome, sexy man that I’d slept with a few nights ago, but man…he just looked so damn gorgeous.
He pulled up a chair close to the side of the bed.
“Well, even though you may not say it is my fault and even though I know that I’m not the one who put you here, I am still sorry that you are in this spot, if nothing else like I would be sorry that someone wound up homeless,” he said. “Will you please forgive me?”
“Oh, Nick,” I said. There was certainly something humorous about how I was the one with bruises all over and he was the one in the most pain. “Duh.”
Nick finally got the hint, looking up at me with a chuckle and a smile.
“Well, you’re very generous with your kindness,” he said. “I will make sure you never get hurt like this again. I don’t care what it takes.”
“He’s in jail now, you know,” I said. “He’s not going to do anything.”
Nick almost seemed unsatisfied with that answer.
“I just want one good round in the ring with that punk,” he said. “Beat the shit out of him, get some—”
“Nick!”
I squeezed his hand.
“Let’s focus on us, not him, OK? He’s gone. He’s buried deep in some cell. He’s not our problem.”
For now.
But I don’t want to think abou
t anything but this very moment right here, right now.
“Understood,” he said. “So really, though, you get out today?”
I nodded. A mischievous grin spread on his face.
“Can I drive you home?”
I arched an eyebrow at him.
“I don’t think my body can take any type of ride except the literal right now.”
Nick recoiled in shock.
“Oh, hell, I was just wanting to spend time with you! I wasn’t even thinking about that!”
“Uh-huh,” I said, but honestly, I knew now he wasn’t. I just enjoyed teasing him like this. “Well, I was going to ask my parents to come later today, but you happened to come in and ask before I could. So, I guess you win.”
“No,” he said. “We win.”
“Oh, Lord.”
But it was sweet having Nick by my side. Some of these scars and bruises would last a terrible amount of time, but for the moment, none of that mattered.
So long as I had Nick by my side, the world didn’t seem nearly as scary.
Chapter 19: Nick
The only “bad” news of the moment was that the doctors still wanted to keep Izzy for another hour, so I had to play the part of fake cousin for a little bit and exercise my patience while the doctors did their round of checks.
In that time, I pretty much held Izzy’s hand for the entirety of it. Obviously, some moments required that I pull back so she could talk to a doctor or show him something on her body, but if there was a moment where I could, I wanted her to feel my touch. I wanted her to know that I meant it when I said I would do anything to make sure she never got hurt again, no matter the costs.
She just doesn’t need to know how. At least, the how that doesn’t involve you directly.
About twenty minutes before our scheduled departure time, someone knocked on the door. Izzy let them in, and then I realized I might have overdone one aspect of this visit.
“More flowers?” Izzy said, her face more amused than upset or annoyed. “You really are trying to plant a garden, aren’t you?”
“I may have just gone crazy with orders and not worried about how it would be,” I said. “But yeah, this is probably getting to be a bit much.”