by Celia Hayes
It felt like the most reasonable thing that had ever happened to me.
I kept looking at that guy, the one who’d slept with Ruth. He was still desperately trying to grope some blonde, a different one. One that would maybe say yes. I realised I knew what I wanted to do.
It was likely not to be an intelligent choice.
No one would understand it, either.
I would not earn a promotion out of it. Unthinkable.
But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t recall ever doing the right thing and not regretting it a moment after. You have to stick to traditions, they’re what gives us our identity.
Agent Cosgrove sent me a message just as I was dumping an USB stick in a garbage bin.
Everything I’d found about Nolan was on it. All the calls he’d made while I was at his place. The conversations I’d overheard behind closed doors. The recordings I’d stolen from his answerphone.
I had a copy on my laptop too, but what mattered was the gestures. I was erasing the past. Offering him a new name.
From that moment, Nolan Carter truly existed. The papers would say so.
“Good evening Madison, it’s Matthew. I need to see you. Can we meet tomorrow? At four perhaps?”
I turned my phone off. I raised my arm to call a taxi. A limousine stopped.
Christopher Dunn
I went looking for her.
I’d told myself I wouldn’t, but after a while I could no longer sit there waiting for her to come back.
She was going without even saying goodbye, and I couldn’t stop her, not in front of everyone.
Who knew where she was now, who she was talking to.
It was driving me mad.
You may not have noticed it from the outside, but I felt like punching anyone who came near her in the face. Still, I kept calm, I kept my restraint, I thought I couldn’t keep her if I pushed her too hard. She would slip away like all the other times. I didn’t want that to happen again.
I had spent four years waiting for her. After having only brushed against her once.
I now knew what it felt like to touch her, to have her, I knew her taste. And I could no longer do without. I still couldn’t afford one like her, but I would have kept her with me for as long as I could. Every time I looked at her could have been the last, and I tried to memorise it. Her eyes, her hands, her legs around my waist.
I liked when she rolled over on her back, it drove me crazy when she ran her fingers through my hair. To hear her talk. To hear her breathe.
And when she got mad I felt like I loved her. Fuck.
When she lost her mind, told me to stop, shouted at me, I would have killed for that woman. If I’d told anyone, they wouldn’t have believed it.
I knew they couldn’t understand it because they’d never seen Madison naked, never talked to her with the lights off, stroking her back. If they had, they would have raced for their bike under the snow like I had that night, even though the road was frozen over. Just like me, they would have pulled the whole city apart just to find her.
It was her eyes.
Her golden eyes, her plush lips, her black hair.
«Where is she?»
I’d put my driver on her tracks, I called him to figure out how to reach her.
I’d just got to the garage, when I felt a blade against my neck.
My phone flew from my hand.
«They used to call you Wolf, if I’m not mistaken».
It was Sloan. He’d found me in the end. After all I’d been expecting him.
I smiled.
«Just tell me what you want,» I offered.
«To kill you».
The first thing you do when you have a knife at your throat? Look for a security camera.
I found it. It was broken.
«Nice».
It was a shit evening.
Fourteen
When I came back it was three AM.
I hadn’t done much, just driven around aimlessly.
«We’re here, Miss Hill».
«Do another round of the block».
«It’s late».
«Keep going».
Every time the car parked by the front door, I tapped on the glass and asked the driver to start the engine again.
I kept putting off the moment when I would see him again. Then I got tired of myself, of keeping things suspended, and walked into the elevator.
The apartment was dark when I came back, everybody was gone, but the bedroom door was ajar. I assumed Nolan had gone to bed.
I took my coat off and hung it back in the wardrobe. I took my shoes off my feet, looking at the bay through the window. There was silence, the remains of a cigar in an ashtray left on the table, a half-empty bottle of scotch.
I no longer asked myself for how long that place would be mine. I left the living room and stepped into the bedroom on my tiptoes, trying to be silent.
Nolan was still awake. Sitting on the bed, his back resting against the pillow, a knee bent up, he listened to the sounds of the night. He rubbed at his chin, a glass of whisky in a hand, his arm resting on his knee.
«Where have you been?»
I took off my sweater.
«Around».
«Around where?»
I walked by the window. The lights from the street were undercut by shards of shadow. I took my skirt off.
Nolan watched me get undressed, running his fingertip on the rim of the glass.
«Nowhere».
I climbed on the bed and slid a leg between his. I knelt up between his arms. I ran my hands along the buttons of my shirt, undoing it.
Nolan kept drinking, with that distant expression he used to keep me at a distance when he didn’t want to show me something about him that he thought I couldn’t understand.
With a twist of his mouth, he leaned into one of those pale slivers of moonlight, which filtered through the curtains and hit the bedsheets, giving a blue tinge to our silhouettes.
I saw a cut on his chin, a swollen lip.
I raised a hand to brush against his face.
He allowed me to touch him, but when I touched the point where he’d been hurt, he pushed me away, holding my wrist far from his face.
«What happened to you?»
«I met you».
«Who did this?»
«Keep undressing».
That voice of his, waiting, hesitant, kept me trapped.
I went back to what buttons were still undone, took my shirt off and dropped it on the floor.
There were parts of his life that I was not allowed in, and others that belonged to me. That moment, for instance, was mine, no one else’s. Nolan sitting on that bed, watching me undress.
I could have asked him for anything, even if he’d had to steal it from God himself, he would have brought it to me.
I realised I desired his tortured soul.
«Am I going to lose you?,» I asked.
«I’ll find you again».
I took his hand and placed it on my breasts. I put my fingers under the waistband of my panties and lowered them, leaving them halfway down my thighs.
«Am I hurting you?»
I pushed the tips of my fingers on his lips, trying to brush against his tongue.
Nolan grabbed my panties with both hands, ran his fingers along the waistband, then ripped them.
«Every time».
I hardly knew his name.
I kept brushing against him, looking into his eyes.
He pulled me to him, bringing me flush against his chest, and kissed my belly, my side. His need to have me in spite of any pain he might be in made me realise I’d stopped resenting him, and started loving him. In his silence, in his reluctant gestures, in that past coming to the surface in the memories that kept him enslaved.
«Make love to me,» I whispered to him, running my hands through his hair.
His eyes were the same colour as deep, clear sea water.
«Do you want to pretend you love me?»
>
His hand kept me close. Then his mouth found mine and there was nothing keeping us separate anymore.
I put my arms around his neck. Nolan pushed me down on his sex, opening his mouth against my breasts. He pushed in slowly, holding my hips to keep control of my movement.
I felt him slide inside me, taking my breath away every time he went in. As shivers of pleasure ran down my back, I found myself looking at him with tears in my eyes. Nolan realised I could no longer lie to him, we were no longer pretending. I truly loved him.
I ended up on my back, with him above me, my wrists pinned over my head. Nolan kept pushing between my thighs, biting at my lips.
The silence was deafening, only broken by my soft moans. He restrained his. The smell of our bodies mingled with the salty taste of his sweat.
I came looking for his body, my back arching. He came pulling out, murmuring my name.
I felt his seed running on my skin, his fingers brushing me.
We rested there, laying on top of each other. Nolan caught my face in his hand.
«You don’t care about it?»
He said that he loved me.
«I don’t care about it».
I said that I loved him.
We stayed awake all night, something that kept happening more and more often. We no longer said a word.
Me on top of him, him under me. We watched the dawn rising above the skyline, breaching snowy clouds. We could hear the distant noises of the harbour, see the few boats riding the waves, leaving the bay.
The city came awake under our sleepy eyes. The men who had wounded him, who were chasing him, moved like rats in the alleys. The men who followed me around, observed my moves, hid among the garbage bins and waited for me.
I no longer asked myself how long this would last for. If I had been able to choose, in that moment, I would have said forever.
Fifteen
By three thirty I was done writing my piece about Nolan. I only had to proofread it, the rest was done. It was ready for the press.
The most sought-after bachelor in town. I would have earned him some fans.
Then that chapter would have been closed, and I could go back to my life.
I took the rest of the day to meet with Ellen Miles, who would take Cats back to the stage that coming Summer. I was looking for gossip about the cast.
«Miss Hill».
I went down on the street and waited for a taxi. I kept my distance from Nolan’s cars during the day, to prevent rumours about us from spreading around.
«Miss Hill, wait».
Traffic was jammed because of roadworks. They were fixing the pavement by a decrepit building. I had heard someone was planning to turn it into a hotel. For now, the contractors slowed the flow of the cars. I was going to be late to my appointment.
I checked the time, and Matthew Cosgrove managed to reach me, climbing off a grey Cadillac.
«Miss Hill...»
I was wearing a short white skirt, a pink turtleneck sweater and a tight woollen coat.
My sunglasses on, my arm raised, I was enjoying what little sunshine there was on the pavement. The weather forecast was snow by evening.
«You’re going to make me be late».
A Puerto Rican guy drove by me, honking his car’s horn.
Matthew stuck his hands in his pockets, pulled out a lighter and lit himself a cigarette. «Do you want one?,» he offered, and I didn’t say no.
«I came looking for you at your office, but you’d already gone».
«Ah, pity...» I looked at yet another taken taxi speeding by.
«I’ll give you a lift,» suggested Cosgrove.
«No need».
«Where are you going?,» he asked.
«I’ve got an appointment on Richard Rd, at half past four». I tried to peer over the edge of the pavement, but I was sure I wouldn’t make it on time, there wasn’t even a bus in sight.
«I only need five minutes,» Matthew insisted.
Normally I would have said yes, but there was nothing normal about my life anymore.
«I can’t help you, sorry». I chose to just tell him.
Whatever Matthew Cosgrove wanted to do to Nolan, I was not going to help him.
He realised I’d got in deep.
«You’re making a mistake».
«Happens sometimes».
«You can change your mind».
You know what Feds are like. They pretend they’re on your side, they tell you they work for you. Don’t believe it.
They don’t work for anyone. They follow order, with the sole purpose of making as many victims as possible. They’re immune. You’re not.
«What about it, Cosgrove, are you going to drag me to a police station?»
I didn’t let his manners fool me. I couldn’t make myself trust that man. Since he wasn’t answering, I concluded he had nothing to take me away and question me, or he would have done it already. «You can’t». I smiled. «Isn’t it so?»
He pressed his lips together. I’d almost pinned him down and he didn’t like it. He looked away, following like me the flow of the cars honking at the traffic lights, disrupted by the operations of the ongoing roadworks.
«You’re protecting a criminal,» he warned me.
«I don’t know what you’re talking about».
«Do you know where he got the money to pay for all your clothes?,» he tried to find my eyes, in the crowd.
Passers-by walked past us, crossed the street, slaloming between the cars and taking advantage of the traffic jam. In that confusion, Matthew Cosgrove put a hand on my arm and whispered, serious: «Racketeering, blackmail, murder for hire. You’re hiding a murderer».
«If that was the case, you’d already have arrested him,» I resisted, holding his stare, without letting his position or what he could do to me intimidate me.
«I don’t have proof yet, but I will soon, very soon,» Cosgrove warned me, looking around. He was sure Nolan’s people had an eye on us. Or maybe it was his people watching us, pointing cameras at us. I no longer knew who to trust. They were all the same to me.
«Get out of it now, Madison. Perhaps not today, but sooner or later Nolan Carter will make a mistake and we will be ready. We’re going to get him. I’m giving you one last chance to be on the side of the winners».
«Why do you want to help me?,» I asked him.
«I need you,» he admitted. No feelings. He wasn’t after his good deed for the week, in case you’re wondering. I wasn’t looking for charity.
Not from anyone.
I stiffened. «Just imagine, I don’t need anyone».
Matthew lifted his hand from my arm, dropped the cigarette on the pavement and snuffed it our with the tip of his shoe. He must have realised I really liked Nolan. Pity he didn’t like him at all. He was sure that he was in the right, and not me.
He raised a hand, and for some reason a taxi stopped this time.
He put a hand on the car hood and opened the door. I was about to get in.
«Don’t be fooled, Madison,» Cosgrove stopped me. «That man doesn’t have a heart,» he advised me, almost like a friend. «He’s only using you. When he’s had what he wants, he’ll throw you to us and come out of it clean». He lifted his hand; he’d placed a photo on the car hood. «He always comes out clean».
He expected me to take it, and I did, but I didn’t immediately look at it.
I was staring at the agent with a cross expression, my head filled with an endless string of questions.
«What do you expect to get from me?»
«Everyone needs to know who Nolan Carter truly is».
«Who says I know?,» I asked him.
He smiled. «Call it a gut feeling, will you? I know you have something on Nolan. Whatever it is, you have to give it to me. I don’t care how, but I need that information, Madison».
«And what will you do then?»
«I’ll land him in jail, where he should have wound up four years ago. And he’ll rot there, I prom
ise you».
I saw a glimmer of hatred in his eyes. It was not a job, it was a settling of a score.
«I’m not going to help you». I pulled back. Matthew Cosgrove shook his head.
«You will, or you’ll end up in jail too».
«Under what charges?»
He shrugged, indifferently. All felonies were equal to him. «Hiding evidence. Aiding and abetting. You choose,» he suggested. Then, looking at the street, he told me in a whisper: «Jonathan Sloan, the gang leader of the Black Hawks, was found dead yesterday night. They fished him out by the piers, he’d been shot». He looked at me again, distractedly. I made a mistake. I showed my surprise. I was thinking of Nolan, of that wound on his face. I couldn’t pretend I felt nothing, and Cosgrove got what he wanted: confirmation. «Something tells me you know who the culprit is,» he suggested, like he had me now.
I turned my eyes away. I was frozen with cold, and not because of the wind.
«You really want to risk ten years in jail because of that man, Madison?» Cosgrove asked me, surprised. He expected me to fold.
«I did nothing,» I reminded him, still thinking he couldn’t touch me. It was no crime to sleep with a suspect. But Matthew had his shortcuts.
«If you can’t prove you didn’t, I’ll destroy your life, your career. I’ll take everything away from you, Madison. Don’t make the mistake of underestimating me,» he threatened me. «I’m not going to stop. I’ve been pursuing that man for too long. Do you see now what I’m offering you?»