The Illicit Affairs

by Marí, Brittani

  If I didn’t know my uncle, I would’ve taken his comment as a threat. However, having known him my entire life, I was accustomed to his slightly humorous ways.

  “No force needed, Uncle Victor,” I replied. I lightly pressed my fingers against the bridge of my nose before pulling my drink closer, contemplating if it were needed.

  “I was summoned here by the only person who has something to hold over my head.” I decided the drink was needed the moment the words left my lips.

  “I guess we all knew it would come to this. Justin was too immature for the job from the beginning. He wanted it too much.”

  I flinched when he cleared his throat.

  His next words were a confirmation of my own. “Nephew, I’ve never been one to withhold the truth, so yes, I had my doubts when Justin took your place.”

  He looked around the bar before continuing. We were somewhat separated from the crowd. “But your mother and I both knew you were battling with something. She mentioned you lost that light you often carried in your eyes.” He lowered his voice. “The only thing that made you different from the one person you loathed the most.”

  I quietly processed his assessment of me. The words that spilled from his lips weren’t a surprise. I knew the truth. I knew that when I worked closely with my father, my humanity slowly started to slip away. Deep down, I knew there was an evil simmering inside me, waiting to be unleashed. I tried my best to control it, but sometimes resisting wasn’t good enough. Sometimes it was pointless. I quickly learned if your life was meant to be a certain way, running didn’t help. It tracked you down, and before you knew it, you were walking down the same path you tried so hard to avoid. The entire time you thought you were running in the opposite direction, you suddenly found yourself right back where you started.

  I drained my glass, then placed it on the bar. My uncle gave me a concerned look but refilled it the same way—not too much or too little. I gave a defeated laugh.

  “Don’t take my opinions the wrong way, Wes. I was just expressing what your mother and I had noticed. A mother can always tell when her child is suffering, and sadly, I was the only person she could confide in.”

  I knew his words weren’t meant to pass judgment, but I couldn’t help but feel like I was being criticized. I looked at him as I struggled to ignore the negative thoughts in my head.

  “Yes, I know.” I drained my second glass before slamming it onto the bar. “She fought for me…” I took a deep breath. “Now she’s gone. I guess my time is up.”

  My uncle stared at me intently. I didn’t dare ask what he was thinking. I felt I might not be able to handle it. His words had been accurate. The truth was something I tried to steer clear from. It clarified things that I’d rather not know. He reached for the bottle, but I stopped him.

  “I think I’ve had enough for right now,” I stated.

  He moved to my side of the bar and leaned against it. When he started to speak, he leaned toward me. “I think sometimes we forget there are other things to consider, Wesley.” He lowered his voice after looking around. “Sadly, you’ve failed to realize what an important role you play. How important you actually are.”

  I began to speak, but he raised his hand, stopping me.

  “You need to be cautious about what you say around here. Be smarter about your influence and power. That knowledge is all you need to know to get by. The rest is for you to figure out.”

  He walked back behind the bar and pulled the bottle out, not asking permission to refill my glass. He pushed it toward me, refilling his, as well. He motioned for a toast, and I obliged, too stunned by his words to reject. What was he trying to say? Would my mother be proud if I walked down the path she had fought to keep me from, or would she not want me involved? Was this piece of information something she failed to tell me because she thought I wanted out? Did I read her all wrong? I suddenly had the feeling my mother played a more significant role than she took credit for. She was more knowledgeable than I thought.

  We both drained our glasses at the same time. My uncle wore an expression that left me curious and confused. I turned to observe the crowd. My eyes were quickly drawn to the two men who were entering the bar area. I could tell from the way they looked around the bar they weren’t there for pleasure. They were clearly the two detectives that had come to speak with my father. His important meeting had come to an end. He would be summoning me soon enough. I was in awe of how the two men thought they blended in with the rest. It was obvious from their department store suits that they didn’t belong. My uncle noticed them, too. However, he didn’t look surprised.

  “It appears things have become a lot more interesting.”

  I nodded in agreement. “Yes, indeed. Justin led them right to us. I can only imagine what’s going through Stinson’s head right now.”

  My uncle quickly cleaned up the area he’d used, then placed everything back into the cabinets. It was odd watching him behind the counter. I knew he dabbled in everything, but this position didn’t fit him well. The tailored suit that covered his excessively large frame, combined with his bald head and lengthy mustache, screamed he didn’t belong. It wasn’t long before he walked from behind the bar, stopping beside me before he left the area.

  “I almost forgot, Wes. Welcome home. It seems like you came back just in time to clean house,” he said quietly.

  I watched him casually walk out of the bar and couldn’t help but wonder his reason for using the phrase “clean house”. It was clear I had a lot to catch up on.

  The detectives caught my eye once again. They were seated farther down, beers sitting in front of them. It didn’t surprise me that they were drinking on the job. I had learned most of them didn’t abide by the rules. The older one caught me staring and turned away. I guess he didn’t realize I was one of Stinson Black’s sons because he didn’t look interested in speaking with me. After he averted his gaze, he picked up his beer and took a swig, quietly chatting with the detective beside him. It was then a feeling washed over me.

  My brother had dug a hole deeper than I had realized. My father hadn’t been able to handle it quietly, giving them the nerve to come directly to our doorstep. If they were bold enough to visit, they had found something that could harm us. It was the only way they would even take the risk.

  My father was a powerful man, and if they had found a weakness, things had gotten worse. He didn’t summon me because Justin left him short a right-hand man. He summoned me because he knew I was the only person who could help. He needed me. What the hell had my brother done?

  ***

  I walked into my father’s office with confidence. The short conversation with my uncle gave my mood a boost. Knowing my mother may not have been ashamed of my new position helped put my mind at ease. How could I run and leave my two younger brothers to fend for themselves? I knew how intimidating Stinson could be. What kind of role model did that make me? The appropriate term for my actions was coward. I knew I would have to make up for that. I needed to claim my place.

  Stinson sat at his large mahogany desk, his chair facing the window. When I closed the door, he didn’t bother turning around. I made my way to one of the empty chairs positioned in front of his desk, taking a seat. I could sense the tension in the air, making the assumption it was due to his visit with the detectives. It felt like a decade before he turned around and abandoned the magnificent view of the Houston skyline. He placed his palms on the edge of his desk and leaned slightly forward, giving me a concerned look. I decided to speak first.

  “I see you had some unexpected guests.”

  He remained silent but causally leaned back in his chair, his eyes observing me. His silence started to agitate me. It felt like I was being silently interrogated.

  “Do we have an issue I’m not aware of, Stinson?” My question broke his trance. His brows furrowed.

  “Yes, son. It appears we do.”

  I tensed. What problem could we possibly have? He stood from his seat, moving a
round to the empty chair beside me.

  “Your brother’s situation is indeed our top priority. The mess he’s created, well… Let’s just say it’s not something a few phone calls and life-altering threats can fix.” He shifted uncomfortably in the chair. “However, it seems our past is sneaking up on us, as well, Wesley.”

  I looked over at him, realizing he was nervous. He struggled to play it off, but knowing him my entire life, I could tell the difference. It was rare for something to get to my father. He was undoubtedly out of his comfort zone.

  “I’ve been informed Fredrick Hall is back on the radar. It appears he’s been in contact with some mutual associates.” He stood, walking back behind his desk. Agitation surrounded him, but he continued to stand. “He’s not officially out of hiding, but I have a feeling this slip was made purposely. Fredrick is a man who doesn’t make mistakes. He’s always been very careful.”

  I looked up. The instant he mentioned Mia’s father, the pieces started to mend together. Fredrick Hall disappeared the same night his wife was murdered and hadn’t been seen since. If he was leaving traces, it wasn’t by accident.

  “What do you think he wants?” I asked.

  He finally took his seat. His face was deadpan as the words left his lips. “What would you want if someone did to you what was done to him? Tell me, Wesley. What would you want if someone ruined your life?

  I didn’t hesitate. “I would want them to pay for what they had done.”

  My father leaned back in his chair and slowly closed his eyes, his frustration thick in the air. “As would I, son.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Mia

  I WOKE IN COLD sweat, my dream crashing in like a movie in fast forward. Horrid images I struggled to forget continued to flash in front of me until my eyes quickly fluttered open. My mother’s lifeless body sprawled in the overflowing claw-foot bathtub was still faintly visible. I blinked my eyes repeatedly until the only thing I could vividly see was the ceiling fan. The low hum of it helped calm my racing heart.

  I reached my arm across the bed, knowing before it landed on the mattress Alek wasn’t there, his side of the bed still freshly made. I pulled the thick comforter from my damp body, shivering when the cold air hit my bare skin. My first thought was just to lay there, unsure if I had the strength to get up, but I was eventually able to climb out of bed.

  When I finally made it the short distance to the bathroom, my phone started to ring. I grabbed a large towel from the cabinet to attempt to dry off, but when my eyes landed on the phone screen, I dropped the towel to the floor.

  My hands shook as I grabbed my phone off the nightstand. The time read a quarter after five in the morning. What could she possibly want? The agreement we made all those years ago was no contact. It was something that had to be done. It pained me knowing I couldn’t reach out to her, but sometimes sacrifices need to be made. The phone number brought tears to my eyes, but I fought the urge to answer it. Eventually, it stopped ringing. Relief flooded through my body. I would just pretend she hadn’t called.

  I picked the towel from the floor and turned back toward the bathroom. My shivers had subsided. I had just reached it when I heard my phone ding.

  I paused before turning back towards the nightstand. Did she even know how to text? Maybe it was someone else. Avery maybe? I walked back over to the nightstand and stared at the screen. The recent alert was still there. The text message short enough to be read without unlocking it. It was from the same number. It wasn’t saved into my contacts, but it didn’t need to be. There was only one person who would be contacting me with that area code. The text was short and straight to the point, not giving anything away.

  We need to talk, Alyssa. It’s urgent.

  I tensed when I recognized the name on the screen. I hadn’t heard it in years. For a split second, it was unfamiliar to me, but a person never forgets their past. Especially a name they were given at birth and grew ashamed of long after. Several things could be considered urgent. Our history proved it. It was one filled with pain. The type of pain that wouldn’t go away. It just patiently waited to show itself, until a small reminder gave it a reason to come out. I was still trying to figure out the connection with the dreams. The therapy sessions left the reasons vague. What did Alek have to do with anything? Why, after all my therapy of coping with them, were they back again? It had been over a year since I had a dream or, if I were being completely honest, a nightmare.

  Then I remembered what my psychiatrist told me the last time we spoke. Everything was triggered by something. Her calm voice was still etched in my mind. It was hard to forget.

  “Your mind has a strange way of coping with things, Mia. Sometimes it has no relation to the underlying issue.”

  I paced between the bedroom and bath, trying to orchestrate my next move. How would I get to her? Urgent normally required more than a quick text or phone call. I thought about the time and made a decision. I walked back over to the nightstand and quickly replied.

  I’ll see you at ten.

  I didn’t specify because there was only one place we could meet. It was only used if there was no other way. I deleted the message and the missed call from my history. I made sure there was no trace of the number on my phone. My past was just that. The past. Nobody needed to know about it because it wasn’t important.

  The only thing it brought was pain and sympathy from people who didn’t know me or understand. How could they? They weren’t there the night everything I loved was ripped away from me. The night my mother was brutally murdered and my father never came home from work. The night I saw….

  I pushed the memories away. I didn’t want to think about them. I didn’t want to dwell on things I couldn’t change. I had a new life, one where no one knew me. The girl I was before. The young girl who suffered a tremendous loss. I strived to forget her. I was no longer Alyssa Hall, who changed her name to Mia Robinson for numerous reasons, mainly anonymity. Instead, I wore the title of Mia Johnson, the beautiful wife of Alek Johnson, a successful judge with power.

  I walked back into the bathroom and dropped the large towel onto the floor, my thin teddy quickly following. I turned on the multiple showerheads and stepped inside the oversized space large enough to fit at least ten people. I relished the feel of the steaming water as the force lightly massaged my body.

  I closed my eyes and was suddenly caught off guard to see a handsome face. Not my husbands, but Wesley’s. The mysteriously sexy owner of the downtown club. The man who pleasured me in all the right ways. The one I carelessly cheated on my husband with. I struggled to get a grip on myself. I pushed the images and delicious memories of him away. He wasn’t someone I needed to be worried about. He was just a man who happened to be available when I made a rash decision. Something that could never reoccur. Then I recalled when I left his apartment. I had been walking toward the waiting vehicle when he murmured four words right before the elevator doors closed.

  “I’ll see you soon.”

  He didn’t say he’d see me around or until we meet again. I remembered questioning it, but I had quickly disregarded his comment as if it wasn’t important. I had been distracted by the idea of Alek discovering I’d been unfaithful. Why did Wesley choose those words? He had been so sure of it, as though he had a plan.

  The scalding water was suddenly too much to bear. It felt like it was burning my skin. My sins catching up with me maybe? I switched it to a cooler temperature and thoroughly washed, praying thoughts of Wesley would disappear down the drain, his face still bright in my mind. I had other matters to tend to. The text was a firm reminder.

  The dreams, well… They would have to wait. The decorative bathroom clock read almost six. I needed to hurry. It would take over three hours to get there, excluding traffic. I prayed it would be mild.

  I dressed in a simple yoga outfit. I figured if I was questioned about my whereabouts, I could comfortably lie and say yoga and a long walk in the park. Alek wouldn’t be home until late if
he stuck to his routine, which gave me plenty of time to get to the bottom of what was going on. I quietly walked downstairs to avoid pleasantries with the staff, but surprisingly, no one was around. I grabbed my keys from the key rack and walked into the garage.

  I hopped into my Audi R8 convertible, pressing the red button to start the ignition. I waited a few minutes for the engine to warm up and hit the button conveniently located in my car for the garage door. It slowly opened, revealing the rising sun. I looked at the dash, noticing the temperature outside was forty-seven degrees. The weatherman had been right. We had a cold winter ahead of us. I looked in the back seat and quickly spotted my jacket. It appeared I had everything I needed for my short, unplanned trip, leaving no reason to go back inside the house.

  I slowly drove out of the garage and around the circular driveway. When I finally made it to the iron gate, I felt my chest tighten. Was I making the right decision? Could the urgency from her change my entire life? I gripped the steering wheel tightly as the iron gates slowly opened. The low squeak was a familiar sound. I knew when I returned things would be different. It was a feeling I couldn’t ignore. The dreams. The unexpected call and text from her. It all had to mean something. There were too many signs just to be a coincidence. It was all connected somehow. I drove through the gate, pressing my foot on the gas. Wesley was suddenly back in my thoughts, along with my psychiatrist’s calm and soothing voice.

  “Everything is triggered by something, Mia.”

  ***

  The lengthy drive to Louisiana was one I took advantage of. It gave me time to think about everything, especially the past few days. How could I have been so careless and inconsiderate of my marriage? I promised myself as I hit the backroads, which led to the small town I partially grew up in, I would seek help from my psychiatrist. It had been quite a while since I’d reached out to her, but with everything on my plate, I knew it was the only solution. I needed advice. I needed her guidance.