by Harper Cole
“I’ll tell you why I am the same as you.” He laughed softly. “We’re both so fucked up in the head that we’ve been trying to be something else, that’s what. You know what’s really stupid? These past few weeks, ever since I met you in fact, I’ve been so ashamed and embarrassed of my past. Ten years in prison, a convicted murderer. So I’ve done absolutely everything I could to try and seem more refined, more educated, just generally better than I really am.”
“But …”
“And I guess every time I faked it, you thought I was being better than you.”
“But you are …”
“Stop it. I’m not the golden boy any longer. Shit, I haven’t been that for a decade. People change. Prison changed me. And change is a good thing, right?”
“I guess. Still, your family…”
“Threw me out, disowned me, wanted nothing more to do with me. And yours?”
She finally turned back to look at him, her eyes half-closed. “None of that, really. Just we all drifted apart. My dad’s kinda embarrassing and my mom puts up with it and I don’t have a lot in common with them.”
“So you wouldn’t want me to judge you on your family, right?”
“No, but…”
“Stop with the no, but.” He bent and kissed her exposed shoulder, then her forehead, and the end of her nose. He pulled the covers up around her neck and patted them down. “I’ve been trying to put on an act for you. And worrying about my own family way too much. The only important thing is what’s here, and what’s now. And that’s us. Now … sleep.”
Chapter Five
“Stop jumping at every little noise!” Trent said to Rochelle.
“I can’t help it,” Rochelle replied. “This was a mistake.”
“We’re safer out in the open than anywhere else,” Trent said. “Anyway, we’re nearly back now.”
She pushed her hands into the front pocket of her hoodie. It was chilly still, even though it was nearly midday. Brucie loped alongside them as they headed back from the dog park. He’d made friends with a Rottweiler and they had spent a happy half hour capering around like a pair of overgrown puppies.
They had woken slowly that morning and Rochelle had nuzzled up against Trent for a few luxurious moments, until the memories of the past few days crept back to her, and she’d had to take some deep breaths to calm herself down.
Sometime, soon, the hammer would fall. It was inevitable.
Trent had made her brunch and urged her to come for a walk. She just couldn’t relax, and her pace quickened as the bar came into sight. It was her haven and her retreat.
It was also a big fucking target but she pushed that out of her mind.
She was half-running as she entered the parking lot and her heart raced as she fumbled with the key in the lock. She flung herself into the darkened, silent bar.
“See?” Trent said as he followed her in. “Do you feel better now?”
“They could be hiding anywhere in here, or outside, waiting to spring on us.”
Trent pointed at Brucie who was pointedly looking at his water bowl. “He’d know.”
That was true. She smiled as warmly as she could. “I’m sorry. This is driving me mad.”
“You’re safe,” Trent repeated.
“Not if you aren’t going to lock your doors, you’re not.”
Rochelle screamed as the man sauntered in, kicking out with his boot to slam the door closed behind him. “Brucie!”
Trent reached out and grabbed Brucie’s collar, bringing the dog up on his hind legs, front paws flailing. “Mr. Hooley,” he said flatly.
“Trent, Trent, he’s …” Rochelle gabbled but the words all fell over each other. There’s a price on your head, she wanted to scream. He’s come for you. The shotgun is in the house. Let the dog go!
“Call me Antony, please.” The slender man smiled, his face becoming crags and lines and wrinkles. He was one of those skinny, dried-out sorts of older man. He was weathered and beaten, but in a way that suggested he’d simply become stronger as time went along.
And crucially, he appeared to be alone, and was brandishing no visible weapons. She stared at his clothes in case he was concealing a rocket launcher somewhere under the jeans and lurid pink and yellow shirt.
It seemed unlikely.
Rochelle was impressed at how level Trent managed to keep his voice. “What can we do for you, Antony?”
“Well now. I’m disappointed in you, Trent. I really am. You came to my nightclub and you asked for my help, and my Bettina, she was impressed by you. Then you never returned. You just brought trouble right to my door instead. So what am I going to do with you?”
“I’m guessing a handshake and a pat on the back isn’t going to be the best answer, is it?”
Jesus, Trent, don’t cheek the man! Rochelle sucked in her breath and held it.
Antony Hooley stared, his face blank. “No, it is not.”
Well, that went well. In that, we are still alive.
“There is something that you can do for me, though,” Hooley went on. “Nathan is a loose cannon. He’s got ideas. I thought Rafe was the threat but he’s a silly little boy who owns one garage and a nasty restaurant that the cops have already raided more than once. But get this. Rafe and Nathan are now working together.”
“I know,” Trent said. “We found out yesterday. Rafe took Rochelle hostage and–”
“Yeah, yeah, all very scary and tragic, my heart bleeds, yadda yadda.” Hooley waved his creased hand dismissively. “She’s back now, so let’s move on. Trent, sort them out. Sort them both out. You deal with them – silence them, stop them, you know what I’m asking – and in return, I’ll lift the mark I’ve got on you at the moment.”
“Why me? You’ve got men at your disposal. I’ve got no weapons, for a start.”
“You’ve got a vicious dog,” Hooley said. Brucie was on all four feet and watching intently, but all his signs of aggression were gone since they started talking together.
“What, so I go set the dog on them? Is that your advice?”
Hooley shrugged. “Do whatever you have to, but the point is, I don’t want it linked to me, you see. It would be doing me a favor. You know the cops watch me.”
“The cops are in league with you!” Rochelle burst out.
Hooley looked at her for the first time, assessing her like she was meat at the supermarket. “I have connections, as do all good businessmen, nothing more. They keep an eye out on me. Sometimes that eye is for me. Sometimes it is not. It is complicated.”
She felt infuriated at his patronizing tone, but held her tongue. Her tip-off to Dellacroce had led to Hooley turning up at the planned drugs exchange between Trent, Rafe and Nathan. She was already on dangerous ground. She lowered her eyes, simmering with rage.
She cursed Dellacroce in her head, though it was half-hearted. He’d told them to side with Hooley for their own protection.
Looking at the man now, with his gold rings and his horrible dress sense, she shuddered. This was her best option?
But Trent was nodding slowly. “Do I get a deadline?”
“As soon as possible. By next weekend at the latest. You don’t do this, or you fuck it up, and I put out word that the price on your head has doubled. But for the moment, you got a week’s grace. Use it wisely.”
“Any idea where I find them?”
Hooley laughed as he turned his back on them, a very deliberate slight. “I am pretty sure they are gonna find you. And soon. Don’t you worry about that. All you got to be, is ready.”
* * * *
As soon as Hooley had gone, Trent released Brucie, and laughed. “That’s a relief!”
Rochelle was vibrating with tension. “How the hell is that a relief?” She could have punched him for his relaxed manner.
Trent shrugged. “Well, only Rafe and Nathan are after me at the moment; Hooley’s called his men off. Two out of three. That’s a result. Aren’t you happy?”
“No. I’m in
shock. How dare he…”
“Rochelle!” Trent took her by the arms and drew her to him, but she was stubborn and stayed stiff and unresponsive. “Rochelle, this is good news. Listen. They’ll come for me, I’ll just shoot them, and everything’s fine!”
“And then the cops will come and my bar will close down and you’ll go back to jail for ever, and so will I, for being an accomplice. Nothing about this is good.”
She could see the exasperation on his face. “What other course of action did you expect? We talked about this yesterday. You knew this is what it came down to.”
“I was carried away by listening to you guys and your gung-ho, all guns blazing, action hero talk. Let’s be real. This is nothing but trouble. Big trouble.”
“So what do I do? What’s your plan, Rochelle?”
She pulled away from him. “I don’t know. You were all in control last night. What about today? How are you going to make things better for me, today? I should have stayed on my own. I let you into my bar, my house, my…”
“Heart,” he finished for her, and dragged her firmly to his chest, kissing the top of her head. “I am doing this for you.”
“You’re selfish. You’re doing it for yourself and you’ll destroy me in the process.”
She felt his embrace tense up and he hissed. She couldn’t stop the words now, and though her tears were falling, she kept on talking. “You said yesterday you weren’t good enough for me. Maybe you aren’t. Not while you’re so hell bent on nothing but revenge. You talked about change but can you really change? After this, what then? You aren’t the golden boy. I see that now. You’re just…”
“I’m just the criminal,” he whispered. He let go of her.
It was the most hurtful thing she could say. Now what would he do? She didn’t want to watch. She turned away.
She heard him walk to the door. The handle scraped and turned.
“Saving my life is the only way to save yours,” he said. And he left.
Chapter Six
Trent walked away from the bar, but his steps grew slower and slower as he got nearer to the chain link fence which surrounded the parking lot.
The offices in the strip opposite were closed up for the weekend but the scattering of stores were lit up and doing business. He walked around the edge of the fence and sat heavily on a low brick wall, the original boundary to the lot.
He stared at the passing traffic. A Mustang went past, reminding him with a jolt of the one he’d stolen and abandoned a few miles out of town. Rochelle had collected him in her car, with Nigel riding with her as back-up. Nigel had gone home for a few hours but would be back soon to help behind the bar.
Carrying on, business as usual. It felt stupid.
And here he was, walking away from her, yet again. How many times had he done this? It was becoming a sick joke.
Was he going to be trapped like this forever? Argue and leave, come back, argue and leave?
Cars zipped past relentlessly. He fell into a sort of meditation, letting his eyes blur and his body relax. He leaned back against the fence behind him, and tried to plan a future for himself.
He wanted Rochelle in it. He was starting to doubt whether that was a good thing or not.
“Brought you a drink. Room for a little one?”
“Jesus, Nigel, you scared me. Don’t do that, dude.”
“Shove over.” Nigel was unrepentant. He held out a mug of coffee, which smelled strong and sweet. Trent obligingly moved along the brick wall and Nigel sat down, his feet only just touching the sidewalk. “Were you asleep?”
Trent balanced the hot mug on the wall. “I think I must have been. Shit. How stupid is that? Two guys are after my blood and I fall asleep next to the street. Man.”
“Yeah. You could have had Brucie with you, at least.”
“And leave Rochelle unprotected?”
“Yeah, about that,” Nigel said. “So what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. She doesn’t want me to do anything, and I want to respect that, but it’s suicide, you know?”
“Just do the right thing.”
“Thanks, Hallmark. I appreciate the coffee, now fuck off.”
Nigel didn’t move. He kicked his heels against the wall. “Seriously, though. She’s had to work so hard for everything and now she could lose it all.”
“I know, I know about that. How she worked up from nothing to get this bar. I do understand.”
“I didn’t mean the bar,” Nigel said. “I meant you. She took a risk letting you into her heart. Shoot me for sounding corny, if you like, but it’s true. She’s never had a man like you in her life. Never. It took more than you know to let you in. Why do you think she keeps pushing you away?”
“Uh, cos she hates me?”
“No. Because she loves you.”
Trent didn’t want to hear that from Nigel’s lips. But he listened.
Nigel sipped at his drink. “It’s true. She’s scared. I think she’s more scared of you and her, and what that means, than she is of Rafe and Nathan and the whole situation. You’re putting her in danger just by existing – you can ignore the other shit, but you are the problem here.”
“I am not the problem!”
“I meant it in a nice way. That’s why she’s so stressed and fucked up. You confuse her. She wants you but I don’t think she dares to let herself have you.”
“What do I do? Chocolates and flowers?”
“This is Rochelle we’re talking about. No. Just act honorably. Do the right thing because it’s the right thing to do – for justice, not yourself, or her, or any of that.”
“You mean go to the police?”
Nigel snorted with laughter. “We talked about that yesterday. I’m a geek. I know about this sort of stuff. There’s cops, and then there’s real justice. If you were playing dungeons and dragons, you’d be chaotic good. Or at least, that’s what I’d tell you to be.”
“Chaotic good. I have no idea what you’re talking about. But it sounds … okay.”
Nigel was right. There was justice and then there was Justice. Still, he had some doubts.
“If I do the right thing, and lose her, it wasn’t the right thing, was it?” he said.
“That’s the risk you take for doing the right thing,” Nigel replied.
Trent shook his head and laughed. “You’re like fucking Yoda.”
“I can’t imagine fucking Yoda. Gross. Hey – there’s Will.” Nigel began to wave like a cheerleader. “Hey, Will!”
“He knows where we are. Sit down.”
Will swung his car into the lot behind them. It didn’t take him long to swing out of the adapted vehicle and roll over to join them.
Trent felt funny. It wasn’t the fact that he was sitting on a wall with a wheelchair user and a nerd in an Atari t-shirt.
It was the fact that these two men had sought him out when he was at his lowest, to offer their support, and they knew it.
“How’s it going?” Will asked, sounding cheerful but looking deadly serious.
“He’s having an existential crisis,” Nigel told him.
“Oh dear. Can you get a cream for that?”
“Shut up, the pair of you,” Trent said, crossly.
“Oooh,” they chorused.
“I don’t need this right now,” Trent said.
“You need exactly this,” Nigel said.
“I need to think.”
“Thinking’s done. I’ve told you. Do the right thing.”
“He’s right,” Will said. “Uh, so, what is the right thing?”
Trent clenched his fists, and Nigel caught the movement. He stood up. “Come on, Will, come inside. Let me fix you a drink.”
Trent nodded. He let them get a few yards away before saying, “Thank you.”
Nigel raised a hand and didn’t look back.
His two friends disappeared into the bar.
Chapter Seven
Rochelle looked up as Nigel came back in. Will trund
led behind, swearing about the lack of a ramp again. It was hardly a priority at the moment, she thought crossly.
Well, it was a priority for him, perhaps. Damn. She did ought to do something about it.
“Where’s Trent?”
“Still out there, brooding.”
“What should I do, guys?” she asked. She stood behind the bar, and leaned on it, resting her head in her hands. “So do I let him go confront Nathan, or what?”
“You can’t stop him,” Nigel said. “He’s doing it for you.”
“No,” she said, her nails digging in to her cheeks. “He’s doing it to save his own skin from Hooley. Anyway. I’m a modern woman. I don’t need rescuing.”
“What, no one ever helped you? I’ll tell Petal Mackenzie, shall I?”
She bit her lip and wanted to growl at him. “That’s different.”
“You’re scared.
“Of course I’m fucking scared! All the gangs and wannabe gangs in this city want to destroy me and my business.”
“No,” said Nigel. “You’re scared of being with Trent. You’re scared of love.”
“Bullshit.”
“True shit. You’re over-thinking it.”
“That’s rich, coming from you.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, and? So what. I know love when I see it. You’re all caught up in whether you should listen to your heart or your head. You’re thinking one thing and then the other. You want him to sweep in and change your life, and at the same time, you want to stay exactly the same as before. You wish you’d never met him and let me tell you this: he’s the best thing to have ever happened to you. So grow up, Rochelle, quit worrying and just make yourself happy.”
She wanted to strike him and she wanted to cry. She did neither. She held her head steady, focusing her eyes on a far point, and said, “This is the problem. So I let him go off and confront them. And he dies. What then?”
“He might walk out this bar and get hit by a truck. What then?”
“That’s not the same.”
“It is. Let him be who he is.”