by B. B. Hamel
“That’s why I’m not making you stay away,” he replied, grinning.
He looked down at me, his deep green eyes drinking in my body, and then he kissed me. We stayed like that, quiet and enjoying each other’s presence, for what felt like hours. The moon moved slowly across the clear night sky.
Chapter Fourteen
Eventually we dressed, but we stayed like that, cuddled on the huge rock, for a while, both unwilling to end the night. I knew that it might be the last time I saw him, maybe forever. Things were uncertain and confused; our mutual desire for each other was completely overridden by the situation Rex found himself in.
“It’s getting late,” he said, breaking the silence. He brushed some hair away from my face.
“Yeah, I guess it is.”
“I don’t feel like leaving.”
I snuggled closer to his chiseled body, lean and strong. “Neither do I.”
“After this, I can’t see you until it’s all over.”
He let that linger between us, and I didn’t respond. I knew it was the truth, I had been preparing myself for it, but hearing him say the words out loud was still difficult. I knew it was crazy to feel so strongly for him after such a short period of time, but we clicked in a way I hadn’t imagined was possible. He was funny and strong, gruff and commanding, everything I needed in a man. He understood my family life, and accepted me despite it. I knew the things he had been involved with, the violence and the drugs, and I forgave him everything, even if he didn’t need forgiveness. The only thing I wanted in that moment was more time to be normal people together, to get to know every inch and thought, to have the luxury of calm and quiet that most couples get. I didn’t ask for much, but I knew it was our fate to get stuck fighting off those that wanted to do him harm.
“Where do we go from here?” I said, afraid of the answer.
“Nowhere.”
“What do you mean?”
He looked down at me, his eyes sad. “I’m going to lay low, hide out until the heat dies down. If anyone asks, you’re going to pretend like we don’t see each other anymore.”
“Who’s going to ask?”
He sighed. “You’re linked to me now. You’re a part of this. If anyone comes to you, tell them we broke up. Tell them what a piece of shit I am, that I hit you or something. Anything you have to say to get them to leave you alone.”
“Wait, hold on. You’re scaring me. People are going to come talk to me?”
“I don’t know, maybe. They won’t hurt you though, don’t worry. You’re still a civilian, on the outside. But you have to tell them we’re done.”
I took a deep breath as fear ran through me. I imagined Tadd at my door, his pig-like grin and disgusting body odor wafting into my tiny apartment. I imagined him pushing through me, into my space, defiling everything around him. I shuddered.
“It’s going to be okay,” Rex said quietly, probably sensing my discomfort.
“I believe you,” I said, although I wasn’t sure.
He touched my face gently. “I know you didn’t ask for any of this. If I could change things, I would. But what I wouldn’t do is go back and never meet you.”
My breath came ragged and deep. “Do you mean that?”
“Yes. I want to keep you safe. But I don’t regret this, not for a second.”
He kissed me again, and I felt chills run down my spine.
“I should go,” he said, pulling away.
I didn’t want him to go. “Alright, I guess.”
“Don’t follow me. Let me leave alone.”
“When will I see you again?”
“I’ll call you when things die down. I promise.”
I grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight as we both stood up.
“Promise me again,” I said.
“I’ll call. Wait a few minutes then leave the opposite way.”
I nodded. He kissed me again, flipped his hood up over his head, squeezed my hand, and then stalked off toward the black spiral staircase. I watched him go until he disappeared into the trees and night, leaving me completely alone, standing on the large rock.
I looked out over the river for what felt like the hundredth time as the night ran through my mind. His body, his smell, his smile and his eyes all swirled around me and mingled with the serious danger he was in. I knew that I had to be strong, for his sake at least. He hadn’t asked for me to try finding him at the bar, and I knew it was my own fault that I had gotten myself tangled deeper into all of it. If anything, he had tried warning me away, over and over, and even disappeared for a while. Still, I was afraid. I was more than afraid, I was terrified, but I was also alive. Deeply, intensely alive. The night seemed brighter and louder than it ever had been before. After a few minutes, I gathered myself mentally, and then made my way back home, up the stone stairs, around the Art Museum, and down the empty, late night streets.
The days began to feel like an old movie playing too fast. Every night I went to sleep dreaming about Rex’s touch, worried that I may never see him again. I worried he was hurt and I worried he was arrested, but worst of all, I worried that he would decide that I wasn’t worth the risk. Work became a dull blur of repeated motions, including ignoring Marissa the best I could. Amy noticed something was up, but she was too busy full-on wedding planning to pry too hard. That was fine with me: I didn’t think I could handle that sort of scrutiny from her anyway. I knew exactly what she’d say, and I wasn’t great at lying to her.
Still, I tried to spend as much time with Amy as I could. I had nothing else to distract me from my day to day, and I continued to be afraid for Rex’s safety. It never really occurred to me to be afraid for myself, since I didn’t think anyone knew where I lived. I heard nothing and saw nothing, and tried to act like I was interested when Amy talked about her wedding plans. There was a venue to pick out and invitations to send, plus decoy plans to feed to the press. It was all so boring to me, despite being a million-dollar event shrouded in Shane’s patented secrecy.
Three days turned into four, and four turned into a week, and finally a week turned into two weeks before I heard anything new about Rex. I was beginning to genuinely despair, convinced he had left my life forever. It was Saturday night and I broke open a bottle of wine, intent on a quiet night of too much to drink and cheesy reality TV shows. I could still feel his lips and his strong hands on my hips, and the deep excitement I felt at being taken in a public spot. I was wearing cheap cotton shorts, an old camp T-shirt, and a terrycloth bathrobe, when somebody knocked at my door. It took me a few seconds to register the noise, because normally I had to buzz visitors upstairs. Assuming it was a neighbor, I walked over to the door and pulled it open.
Standing outside was Michael, flanked by his two flunkies. I stared at them open mouthed, a thrill of fear jolting through my body. They were the last people I ever imagined would be standing outside of my apartment door. Everything Rex had said about them came flooding back, and I genuinely feared for my safety.
“Hi there, dearie, mind if we chat?” Michael said. He smiled gently and looked almost kind in a fatherly way. It was completely at odds to how he had acted in the bar when I first met him.
“What do you need?” I said.
“Come now, be polite. Invite us inside.” It sounded more like an order than a request, and I quickly moved aside. Michael nodded his thanks and entered, followed by his two grunts. They were all wearing jeans and simple black T-shirts. Michael wore a leather jacket, while the other two had different hooded zip-up sweatshirts on. The two grunts were wearing black leather gloves, which I noted with some confusion.
Michael leaned against the kitchen table while the two goons spread out and started to go through my things. First they checked the bathroom, then they checked under the couch and in every drawer.
“Hey, stop going through my stuff,” I said weakly. They ignored me.
“Don’t mind them, Miss Darcy, they’re alright,” Michael said. He was watching me closely as I h
eld my robe wrapped around my body. Soon they stopped looking and nodded at Michael. I felt violated, even though they hadn’t found anything particularly interesting. It was more the idea that they could come into my space at any time they wanted and rip through my things and there was nothing I could do about it.
I briefly considered calling the police. But in the end, I thought that would do more harm than good. It could potentially implicate Rex in something, and make the situation worse for him. More than that, if I did get the police involved, I would all but guarantee they wouldn’t leave me alone. It likely wouldn’t put them in jail, and it would definitely piss them off. I wanted to avoid bringing more of their attention to me. Plus, Rex had made me promise, no cops.
“Small place you have here,” Michael said.
“Please leave if you’re done.”
“Not quite yet, I’m afraid.” He walked into the kitchen section and started to look through the drawers. Finally, he stopped in front of my knife block and pulled out my nicest, sharpest knife.
“Cook’s best friend, a sharp knife,” he said, running his finger over the blade. Watching him hold a knife sent a deep panic into my stomach, and I had to struggle to remain calm. They were otherwise unarmed, as far as I could tell. His two goons sniggered at my reaction.
“What do you want?” I said again. I knew the answer, but I had to play it cool. I was trying as hard as I could to keep myself together when all I wanted was to run out the door screaming.
“Where’s Rex?”
“I don’t know,” I said truthfully.
Michael sighed, then walked closer to me, still holding the knife.
“He’s obviously not here, since this box is too small to properly fit a man his size. Still, we know you’re part of his life, and we’re looking for him. Where is he?”
“I haven’t seen him in weeks,” I said.
“Why don’t I believe you?” Michael stopped within half a foot of me, still running his finger gently along the knife’s edge. “You’ve been fucking him all this time, haven’t you?”
I shook my head. “He flipped when he heard that I went looking for him at your bar. Called me a stalker bitch. I haven’t seen him since then.”
Michael was quiet for a second, then he looked at this goons. “What do you think boys, is this one telling the truth?”
The closer one shrugged, but neither of them responded. They were spooky, how quiet and intense they were. They were completely at odds with Michael’s relaxed posture. They seemed ready to pounce at any moment, two springs of physical energy prepared to unleash themselves.
“Not a lot of support for you,” Michael said, grinning.
“It’s the truth. I haven’t seen him in weeks, I swear.”
Michael took a step closer, filling the small space between us. I could feel his hot breath on my face, and smell his thick musk. I felt my knees begin to shake, and I broke out into a light sweat. The anxiety ran in waves down my spine. Rex had warned me that this would happen, but he hadn’t said how terrified I would be. I could barely think, barely breathe, and barely stand up straight. I didn’t know what I would do if Michael tried to hurt me. I had to keep telling myself that they wouldn’t do anything because I was still a civilian. They were just trying to scare me. They couldn’t risk anything more, at least according to Rex. I had to trust him. I had no other choice.
“Listen to me, you little bitch,” he said. His polite and kind demeanor suddenly shifted, and his eyes were hard and cold. “If I find out that you’re lying to me, I’ll cut you. I won’t kill you, but I’ll hurt you bad enough that you’ll wish I did.”
“I’m not lying,” I said. I could barely stand, my knees were shaking so hard. “The asshole fucking ditched me.”
He smiled at me. “Alright, love,” he said, and then turned and walked back toward the knife block. He slid the knife back into its spot then turned back toward me, smiling. I hugged myself tighter.
“Thanks for your time tonight. If you hear from our mutual friend, come find me at Drake’s. Do that, for your sake.”
Michael nodded to his two goons. They left my apartment without another word. I shut the door when they were gone and locked the bolt. Immediately, I collapsed onto the floor, shaking with fear. I couldn’t cry, I couldn’t think, I could only breath slowly and deeply until I regained my nerves.
Chapter Fifteen
It took a few hours for the shaking to stop. I laid on the couch after they were gone, and quietly drank the bottle of wine, praying they wouldn’t be back. As the night wore on and I grew drunk, I eventually passed and slept a dreamless sleep.
The next morning, I woke up with a start. I felt groggy and paranoid. I was terrified that someone was watching me through the windows. I closed the blinds and wrapped myself in a blanket. The image of Michael, his eyes hard, knife in hand, standing inches away from my face, kept running through my mind. I kept thinking about his lackeys rummaging through my things and felt dirty, like I had to clean all of the clothes they might have touched before wearing any of it.
I knew I had to do something, but had no idea what. I grabbed my phone and flipped through the numbers until I found Rex’s. I stared at it for a while, weighing my options. He told me not to contact him, that he’d be in hiding and it would be too dangerous, but Michael’s visit was too much. I felt truly in over my head for the first time and needed to talk to somebody. He was the only person involved that really knew what was going on. Finally, I tapped his name and held the phone up to my ear, but nothing happened, just a busy signal. I tapped it again, and again I got a busy signal. I hadn’t heard a busy signal in a long time, and wondered what it meant.
I put my phone away and ran through my options again. Calling the police was definitely out. That would only make things worse. I could try and go to Rex’s apartment, but they were probably watching it, and plus, I knew he wasn’t there. I could go to the bar, but that would only put me right back into Michael’s path. I had to minimize their attention, not flaunt myself in front of them. I felt like I was trapped, caged in my tiny apartment. I rifled through my dresser and threw on clean clothes, put on my beat up sneakers, and then went out into the street.
There was nobody hanging around outside my apartment, and nobody looked like they were following me as I made my way up toward the Art Museum. I kept my head down, lost in thought. I could call Amy and tell her about what happened, but she would insist I get the police involved. I could go straight to Shane, but I had no idea what his reaction would be. Of everyone I knew, Shane Green had the most power to protect me, but he was also Amy’s fiancé. He had more allegiance to Amy, and would probably do whatever she wanted him to do. I couldn’t trust that he would stay away from the police.
Then again, I wasn’t sure I needed protection. Michael had already played his hand with me. They showed up, they searched my place, they questioned me, and now it was over. Rex had said they wouldn’t hurt me if I stuck to my story. All I had to do was keep acting like nothing was wrong. But how would I do that when I was so deeply terrified of every dark corner and shadow?
I made a right onto Kelly Drive and found myself heading toward Fisherman’s Wharf. I walked up behind the Art Museum, trying to keep my head down, ignoring the people around me. I stood at the edge of the spiral staircase, but couldn’t bring myself to walk down its length. For some reason, that spot was tainted by the memory of Michael and his goons. I looked out across the water for a while, thinking about Rex and the way he had made my body feel. I couldn’t help but mix up the image of Michael holding a knife, threatening me in my own apartment, with Rex laying out on the rock. I thought I understood what I was getting myself into, but seeing those men in front of me, and knowing they would do anything if it meant getting what they wanted, made it all more real. Along with the fear coursing through my spine was another emotion, still faint, but growing more powerful with every passing moment. It was anger.
I realized I had never been that angry
before. I was angry Michael and his goons violated my space. I was angry they opened my drawers and tore through my things just because they felt like it. I was angry Michael thought he would intimidate me into betraying someone I cared about. But above all else, I was angry Rex was forced into the position he found himself in. I was angry at the world for giving him a terrible lot in life, for letting him get mixed up with horrible people, for forcing him to risk his life and body in order to get out of debt. I wasn’t angry at Rex for putting me into a dangerous position, because I had all but forced him to. I was angry at the world itself for failing to live up to my expectations and for letting someone I cared about suffer.
I knew I shouldn’t excuse the things Rex had done. Part of me knew he didn’t forgive himself, and that his fighting and violence were a way to punish his past sins. I couldn’t say that for sure, but there was something gentle about him, something kind and funny, something almost opposite of violent. And yet he fought. He fought for his life, and he fought to free himself. He fought to be rid of his past and to continue forward. Maybe I was projecting my own feelings onto Rex, but at that moment, standing at the top of the black spiral staircase, breathing the air wafting off the Schuylkill River, and looking out over the rundown buildings of West Philadelphia, I felt like I knew him. I stood still for a long time trying to imagine the pain and frustration Rex had suffered for years before finally turning and heading back toward home.
With every new step away from the river, the anger abated and the fear intensified. Instinctively, I pulled out my phone and called Amy. Before I realized what I was doing, she picked up on the third ring.
“Hey, Darce, what’s up?”
“Hey, kiddo, I uh, what are you doing right now?” I tried to keep my voice from shaking. I was back to feeling terrified, and I hoped Amy could make me feel better. I wouldn’t tell her anything about what was going on, but I could at least talk to her.
“Not much. Is something the matter?”