by Mason, V. F.
“I know, baby.” He looks over his shoulder and tells me, “This deal isn’t finished.”
“Forget about it, Sebastian. Just like it was said back in the bar.”
His gaze darkens. He clearly doesn’t want to accept defeat, but he has no choice.
His conscience will have to shut up so he can enjoy his life and not think about Phoenix, who can’t stand the sight of him.
Once they drive off into the distance, I go back inside the bar and grin, anticipating Phoenix’s reaction.
I’m not like Hale.
I don’t give up at the first sign of trouble, running around in hysterics and creating scenes. Besides, we are forever connected with her.
I could never leave her now.
Once upon a time, I hated Phoenix and wanted to bring her the most twisted and darkest torture there was in the world.
Looking at her now, though, without the haze of my rage, I see a woman who my body can’t help but react to.
Either it’s her beauty that shines brightly despite her less-than-sophisticated attire or her inner strength showcasing such resolve that she is able to withstand any storm, I don’t know. But whatever it is, I want that.
I want her, and what I want, I get.
Tonight, Phoenix Hale became mine.
Mine to keep.
Chapter Ten
“Choosing the lesser evil doesn’t make the choice less evil.
It’s still evil, but choosing it brings less destruction to the world than the other one.
Funny how life can change so quickly.
A man who I used to love becomes the one I need to run away from.
And the man I hate?
Is the only one who can save me from him.
Yet both of them are evil at the same time.
Our choices define us.
Unfortunately, my choice has the power to destroy me.”
Phoenix
From Phoenix and Zach’s letters history…
Dear Zach,
We’ve exchanged a few letters over the years, mostly me rambling on about the school and how fascinating I find the subjects of biology and chemistry still.
You never replied to any of them, well besides the first two where you shared with me how much you dream about coming back.
I haven’t heard from you in over two years, but I keep on writing… maybe because I think a guy like you would have told me to hit the road a long time ago if you really disliked my letters.
Or maybe you don’t read them at all, and they are lost in the mail? Although I try to follow all the rules.
Anyway… I’m wearing your bracelet still. Oddly enough, it goes along with everything, and it must really bring luck, because good stuff keeps on happening in my life.
I get A-pluses all the time. I got invited to the school volleyball team, and even Ms. Thomson backed off (I secretly think it’s because the state is paying for everything, and she gets to puff her chest whenever someone tells her she has done a good job with me). I got a lot of new friends but have some enemies too—mainly people in my class. Some of them are really rude and call me shorty and a kid (I finish high school in two years, so they are your age). I hate it but can’t do anything about it. Mostly though, no one pays attention to me, and everyone likes to have me in their group for any project.
I also settled on my career choice and so wanted to tell you that… I decided to be a doctor. A surgeon or a psychiatrist, I still haven’t decided. We went to a hospital for a school trip and… it was mesmerizing.
The sounds, the smell, their ability to save lives—with God’s help of course. The knowledge that just pours from the tips of their fingers whenever they perform a surgery or exam.
I saw a patient who started crying when someone told her that her son is going to live. Can you imagine the amount of happiness you can bring if you are a doctor?
But mostly… mostly, I wanted to thank you, because if it wasn’t for you… I wouldn’t have even thought about it.
I will be sending my letters to colleges next year for an early acceptance and Principal Eva tells me I have a good chance of getting into at least half of them with a scholarship. I hope so; otherwise, I won’t have any other means to study.
The only downside is that I wouldn’t be able to get a decent job until I’m eighteen, but hey! I can always work in a coffee shop, right?
This is already become longer than I anticipated, and I apologize for that.
I guess I wanted to let you know a girl you once knew might be a kick-ass surgeon one day; mark my words.
I hope all is well with you and you are enjoying Italy despite missing the homeland.
Much love,
P
P.S.: Since it’s Christmas soon, I’m putting inside a cookie shaped like a Christmas tree. It’s delicious and I baked it myself. I’m not sure if you have such things there or not, but I thought you might enjoy having something from back home.
P.P.S.: Don’t eat it if you get the letter too late. It might get bad.
P.P.P.S.: I included one more in case you have some friends you want to share it with.
Two weeks later
P,
I didn’t know how to start this letter. I usually ignored them all and let you talk, but this one… this one, I couldn’t ignore, and you know why?
Because I’m fucking livid, that’s why.
You want to be a doctor? Really? A surgeon. Let me fucking laugh at the fact that they bring happiness.
They sure as hell never brought anything good to me, and I lived in the hospital with my mom.
You think this profession is sunshine and roses, a pretty gift wrapped in a shiny red bow?
Then you’ll be nothing but disappointed. The Russians have a saying, every surgeon has his own cemetery. You know what it means?
That a lot of people die, and they can’t do anything about it. Because sometimes, despite all the technology, all their skills, they can’t fight against fate that sometimes is so cruel to innocent souls.
You won’t always bring happiness or good news to people. Sometimes, you will bring devastation and sorrow that will know no bounds, and no amount of sorries will help you.
In short, think before you decide to become a surgeon and be ready to face a lot of challenges.
I’m sorry for ruining it for you. I bet you are crying right now, because once again I’m a dick.
But I prefer to be an honest dick than just write congrats and forget about it.
You will get your scholarship. I’m sure of it, and all these people muttering in the background and taking your joy away? (Me fucking included) Give zero shits about them.
Enjoy life to the fullest, but also be careful. Don’t sacrifice yourself at the altar of others, because the funny thing about scarifies?
No one remembers you made them when they turn their back on you.
I don’t miss home anymore. Let’s say… there is a lot of entertainment here that I couldn’t have appreciated as a thirteen-year-old kid. Ironically, that’s when Dad decided to allow me to come back for Christmas and enjoy it with the family, as he put it.
I refused of course and instead booked a cruise across Europe with a few of my friends, among other things.
There isn’t anything I can’t buy in this world for my pleasure; all I need to do is just wish it. But… thank you for the homemade cookie. The last time I ate those when was my mom was alive.
And this makes the gift priceless.
Best,
Zach
P.S.: I got it on time.
P.P.S.: My friend doesn’t get to eat any of these cookies because they are mine. And I don’t share. Ever.
Phoenix
Finishing mixing the last ordered drink—sex on the beach—in the silver shaker, I pour it into two glasses and attach a bit of pineapple along with the small umbrellas on the side.
Tracy leans on the counter, placing each one of them on her tray, and is ready to dash to the two lovely
ladies who requested them when she fans herself again. “Oh, God, one of the hotties is back.”
What?
I glance toward the door and see Zachary walking toward the bar without a freaking care in the world. He hops on the stool, facing me, the corner of his mouth slightly up as he flips the lighter between his fingers.
His eyes though?
His eyes stay cold and assertive; a reptile probably gazes like that at its prey before striking it with its venom or eating it whole.
There will be no such thing tonight. I can’t believe he came back!
At least Sebastian was smart enough to leave.
Then again, he’s not an egotistical prick and has some morals, unlike this monster in front of me.
“Hey.” Tracey smiles at him, tugging a little on her top, which allows her breasts to pop higher, and I frown inwardly, because she really is barking up the wrong tree.
He is bad news, despite his sexual and domineering appeal that fills the energy around him with tension and anticipation.
If I, who hates his guts, feel it, what are other poor unsuspecting women to do? Of course they can’t resist the temptation and are drawn to him like moths to a flame.
“Excuse me? Our drinks?” one of the ladies calls. I motion with my head for Tracey to get a move on, and after throwing Zachary one last longing look, she strolls toward the customers.
The minute she is out of earshot, I snap at the unwanted guest, “What do you want?” His brow rises at my tone, but I don’t give a shit. “If you want to apologize, I don’t accept nor do I want your sorries. Now would you please, for God’s sake, leave!” I hiss the last part, breathing heavily and flipping my hair back from my forehead, all fired up, but for a brief second, I notice the amusement flashing in his gaze before he covers it up with indifference.
“That’s good, because I didn’t come to offer those. I will never apologize.” There is an odd tone lacing his voice, but it’s not what makes my jaw almost hit the floor.
But before making a judgment, I clarify, “You don’t think you should apologize to me?” After everything he has done to me, what he cost me… he doesn’t think he needs to at least say sorry?
How delusional and self-centered do you have to be for that?
“I said I won’t. I never said I don’t think.”
I frown, confused at this explanation, because doesn’t it mean the same thing?
Shaking my head, I exhale heavily, wishing for my shift to be over so I can go home and crawl under the blanket away from Zachary King. I think that’s the only place he won’t ever try to bother me.
After all, a man like him won’t be interested in getting between the sheets with me.
I shiver in disgust at the thought, either the idea of it so repelling after what he has done to me… or maybe because my body doesn’t care and reacts to his male energy.
And I don’t beat myself up much for it. A physical reaction is nothing but female hormones responding to a man’s testosterone. I will never act on it, and besides, all it will take to stop reacting to him in any way is a hookup.
The last time I engaged in one of those, it wasn’t hard to find a willing partner.
However, life doesn’t grant me my wish, and in this I have to deal with Zachary and his wants. Maybe once I do, he will disappear and stop bothering me. “What do you want then?”
He flicks the lighter on and off, focusing his gaze on the fire for the split second before looking back at me. “Cooperation.”
“Cooperation,” I repeat like an idiot, not understanding what he means by that.
“Yeah,” he says and then fetches the bottle again and doesn’t even bother to find a glass. He just drinks right from the spout while at the same time dropping a few hundred-dollar bills on the counter. “That should cover everything.” He takes a large sip, his Adam’s apple bobbing and bringing attention to the pale tattoo gracing his neck I just noticed. It’s barely a whisper, as if someone created it with washed-out ink.
Scrunching my eyes, I try to read it, but it’s too small to make any sense to me, so I mentally slap myself and come back to the topic at hand. “Don’t you want to elaborate on the whole cooperation thing?” I smile at a passing customer who motions for a refill of his drink, and I quickly grab a glass to make a rum and soda. Mixing it together till the ice is crushed inside, I add a bit of lemon juice and place it on the counter.
“I want to catch the son of a bitch who killed my wife.”
I pause at the sound of Zachary’s voice, shocked with the amount of pain these words still hold and how his grip on the bottle tightens so much I’m afraid it might break in his hand.
“The man who awakened the side of me I’ll never be proud of.” He glues his stare to me, taking another sip. “The side that was vicious enough to destroy you.”
The air hitches in my throat; sweat breaks on my skin as the memories threaten to open up. It’s a Pandora’s box that should always be closed. I won’t be able to survive it again.
Forcefully pushing the lid back on the box, I mentally remove myself from the agony and focus on Zachary, for the first time hearing self-mockery from him.
I believed such perfect and powerful men were incapable of feeling it.
What’s with these guys and them sharing everything in a crowded bar anyway?
Taking a deep breath, I will myself to forget for a moment that this is the man responsible for all my hardships in prison and my baby’s death, and instead think of him as a man who lost his beloved wife.
His grief was so strong… he wanted an outlet for his pain. Keeping it all inside probably would have killed him. When I got an easy sentence, according to him, he decided to dish out his own twisted justice, so his victim would suffer and suffer until he broke her.
Try as I might though, I can understand it, but I can never forgive it.
In my mind, he is a cruel monster with no redeeming qualities, yet strangely his behavior is at least explainable. If he hadn’t arranged for the beating that killed my child, I probably wouldn’t hate him so much.
After all, he wasn’t my husband or my friend or even my colleague, right?
Clearing my throat, I push the words that are meaningless in their nature but bring comfort to some. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
He hangs his head, his knuckles drumming on the counter, and then he looks at me, his stare, it seems, drilling a hole in me with its passion. “I’ll catch him if it’s the last thing I do in this world.” He finishes the speech, slapping the bottle harshly on the counter, and points at me. “And for that, I need you.”
Of course, I should have expected that.
I’ll no longer be the source of his rage, because he has found another object, and he won’t rest until he finds him or her. “I can’t help you. I don’t know anything about him. And to be honest? I want to forget it like a bad dream.” None of it is true. I do want to catch this guy, but I’m not naïve enough to think I can accomplish such a task.
For the second time in my life, I decide justice and the law should handle this situation, believing that this time around, they won’t make any mistakes.
“And that’s where you are wrong.”
Glancing at the clock, I see I have one more hour left of my shift. Herb informed me after the guys left that I better get home early after my first shift, and I welcomed it. But now even that hour seems like forever with Zachary talking about revenge.
Or rather digging a knife into an old wound.
“I won’t cooperate with you.”
He slides the bottle to the side, leans closer on the counter to me, so his breath is fanning my cheek, and asks me with amusement coating his tone, “Are you sure about that, darling?”
“Yes. And I’m not your darling.” I try to step away but gasp when he fists the front of my shirt, dragging me closer to him. The lower counter of the bar digs into my middle as my face comes so close to his that we’re only inches apart, my heart beating wild
ly in my chest, and I don’t want to breathe, as it will mingle with his.
“I have a lot to offer to those who work with me.” He tightens his hold on me, his eyes trained on me as if he seeks to catch any change in my expression and study me under a microscope.
Wrapping my hands around his and gripping so hard I hope it brings him pain, I snatch it away from him and tell him, “You have nothing to offer me that I might find interesting. Don’t ever touch me again.” Adjusting my shirt, I point at the door. “Now leave and forget about me. Good luck on your quest. I’ll be happy if you accomplish it. Then I can breathe easy. But until then, stay away from my life.” I finish, panting for breath, my body still rocking with anger and electricity from his nearness that shakes me in a way I can’t explain.
Or I’m too afraid to admit.
He gets up, looming above me even from a distance, since he must be at least six-foot-six, and chuckles, the sound itself sending chills down my spine, promising me retribution for this little act of disobedience. “Don’t be so sure, Phoenix. I might have something you want.”
“Doubt it. Now get out.” I search for Elvin by the door and exhale in relief when he’s there, playing with his phone. “Or I’ll call security.”
“I can buy this bar, and then what will you do?”
Everything inside me boils with rage at how carelessly he uses his position in the world to threaten me, and that’s what I get for allowing myself, for a brief second, to see a human in him instead of a monster. When the chips are down, Zachary King knows only how to use everyone’s weaknesses to his advantage.
Thankfully, I have no weaknesses left for him to uncover.
“Until then though—”
Herb’s loud voice penetrates through the bar’s music and the tension rocking between us, snapping my attention and cutting off whatever I wanted to say. “Phoenix, you need to go home right now.”
“What?” I come closer to him, frowning. What could have possibly happened back there that they need me, and isn’t Rafe supposed to be out until tomorrow?