by Laura Gibson
Logan weighed his options and figured he was safer with the wild boy with the pipe than out on his own.
“Hey wait up!” Logan yelled at him, jogging to catch up.
Kelly cracked a grin and waited, after that they never left each others’ sides. At least, not until Kelly met Casimir.
Finally Kelly pulled into the parking lot and got out of his car without bothering to turn it off. This was going to be a short visit. He looked beaten down. Like all the wind was knocked out of him and he didn’t have the energy to draw another breath.
He opened his trunk and took out a small orange duffel bag, bringing it over to Logan.
Logan took the bag and felt the lightness.
“This all of it?” Logan looked at the paltry duffel bag and then back up at Kelly, “You told me it would be bigger.”
Kelly rubbed his tired face in his hands, “That’s all I got, man.”
“Okay.” Logan swallowed and nodded, loading the bag into his beat up yellow Elcamino. He slammed the passenger door and walked around while Kelly followed him, “I told you I can only do this once a month, so if there’s more sooner, you’ll have to sit on it for awhile.”
“I understand.” Kelly spoke in a serious tone and Logan stole a glance at his somber friend. He never thought life could go to this much shit. He knew what he was doing to Logan and Logan knew what the danger was in involving other people. But Kelly had told him that he needed him. Kelly needed him to be there for him. When all the pieces broke for good and there was nothing left to put back together, Kelly asked Logan to be there.
“Does it have an end date?” Logan’s question was hopeful, even though both of them knew the truth. As long as Casimir was alive none of this would end. And even if Casimir died, a part of Logan knew Kelly would keep going, because no matter how much he hated it, he hated being human more.
The boy with the pipe who had saved him was dead and gone, all that remained with this joke of human life. A reminder that you don’t fuck with forces you don’t understand.
Kelly shook his head, “Not yet.”
Logan wanted to roll his eyes at the blatant lie but he decided against it, let Kelly live his lies, let him believe there was a way out for him. In the end all he had was his belief, why should Logan be the one to take that away from him?
“You can have as much as you want.” Kelly ended their interaction with the same line he used every time, “I’ve got no use for it.”
“I don’t want your money, Kelly.” Logan clenched his jaw to swallow the sadness choking his throat.
“It’s a thank you, you know that.” Kelly wasn’t looking at him anymore, he was looking at his phone. Another text from Kelly’s personal hell, reminding him that he belonged somewhere else, reminding him other people were looking for him.
“Yeah, I know.” Logan looked back at the bag, he had several more at home just like it. Sitting there, waiting for the rightful owner to lay claim to them.
“I have to go.” Kelly’s hand were on his hips now as he looked into the distance, avoiding Logan. He looked thinner than he should. Logan wanted to ask him if he’d been eating but he knew Kelly would never answer him. He was too proud for that.
“See ya around, Kelly.” Logan got into his car and started it, really wondering when the next time would be that he saw Kelly Hill, or if there would be a next time.
With a sigh he turned over the key and felt his car come to life under him. “Come on, babe, lets go home.”
As Logan pulled out of the lot, he glanced at Kelly’s figure in the rearview mirror. He looked broken. Like someone had sapped all the spirit out of him.
But hadn’t they? Logan bit the inside of his cheek and wished that he could rescue his friend like Kelly had done for him ever so long ago. But there was no bully to hit with a pipe. There was no physical force that was holding Kelly down. It was just Kelly.
The only person who could save Kelly was Kelly.
Chapter Three
February 2nd, 2007
Charleston, West Virginia
Jane
The writing desk wasn’t anything spectacular to look at. It had dings and dents from mistreatment and mild abuse by several moving companies. It had sustained a cramped boat ride over packed next to a green sofa and an old iron stove. The wood was a dark stained something or other. It was cheaper than Jane’s mother wanted it to be, but it was all they had left to mark the passage of time. Something to show for the time spent abroad she would say as if she had spent time anywhere else.
Often times Jane would sit at the writing desk and wonder just what her mother had been thinking when she spirited them away in the middle of the night, faces hidden with dark shawls like common refugees, hoping that America would offer to them a better life. But what was a better life? Hiding? Changing names? Becoming new people with no sense of home or heritage?
Jane closed her eyes and swallowed, her hands resting on the writing desk. When her mother died, she had written to her older brother to make him aware. She was driven by the sense of loneliness that seemed to take up residence in her chest and in her mind.
The subtle blue grays of a world apart. But he wanted no part in the new life, and he told her as much. But still, they carried on a sort of familial relationship with writing letters back and forth, keeping it a secret from the rest of the world.
Brothers and sisters were never meant to be best friends. They were born for competition and animosity, but Jane and her brother had seemed to rise above that. Even if their differences were stark contrasts, they loved one another regardless. She helped him through his drinking problem and he helped her with her trust issues.
They were honest with one another when the rest of the world would rather placate them with lies, telling them what they wanted to hear, or what they thought the siblings wanted to hear, instead of telling them the absolute truth.
Decision made, Jane got out her simple stationary and began to pen a letter to her brother. She hadn’t received a response from her last one, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t need him to reply to know that this was something she had to get off her chest.
They usually took turns writing back and forth, never inundating the other with too many thoughts at once, but sometimes there would be an exception, like when their father died, or when their mother killed herself that following fall. So, Jane felt justified in writing to her brother.
She never addressed him by name in the letter, it was safer that way she told herself. She didn’t know who could possibly be reading on the other end but she wanted to make sure it wasn’t someone who could harm them. After all, they were very vulnerable. Even if he didn’t want to admit it.
Today a wolf was waiting for me in the thicket. I can only assume its an omen. Keep yourself safe, brother. Stay out of his way and keep to the background if you can. Please write back.
Jane folded the piece of paper three times and put it in an envelope. She sealed it and wrote her brother’s personal address on it, hoping it would reach him in time. In time for what, Jane wasn’t quite sure, but she had this sense of forbordance in her soul and she wanted her brother to protect himself from it. The coming storm that would wash them all away.
Jane bit the inside of her cheek and felt the waves of a tempest overcome her mind and soul. Jane closed her eyes and tried to steady her breathing, she needed to paint today, but too many other things pressed at her. Obligations, things she had to do to come off as being normal. As being okay. Painting for hours on end wasn’t considered part of the norm, but rather apart.
She was different and she was broken and everyone knew it, but she carried on for her brother and she carried on for Rhett.
A stab of guilt penetrated Jane’s thoughts and she swallowed back the selfishness overwhelming her. Rhett needed her, the same way she needed him. They were together, always had been. What would happen to him if she were to leave? She couldn’t back out of the arrangement now, no matter how much she knew it was ul
timately hurting him. She clung to him to hold her sanity, and he loved her the way a sailor loved the sea, even if he was drowning, he wouldn’t want it any other way.
Jane put a stamp on the letter and put it in her purse, planning on mailing it later that day when she had to run errands.
If Rhett saw the letter he would laugh at her. He had set up an email account for Jane awhile ago and refused to see why she would prefer the archaic method of letters versus the superiority of email.
“You could receive a message from him in less than hour.” Rhett reasoned, his eyes sparkling with the notion of teasing her.
But Jane stuck to her principles and refused to ever send one email. That didn’t mean she didn’t receive any. Lots of junk mail. Jane had taken to opening her email once a day just to clear out the inbox from all the garbage that was piling up.
She loved her brother and so she would always write to him, but she would never use email. It was terrible.
Moving on from her thoughts concerning her brother and the peril she was sure he was in, Jane decided it was time to get something to eat. She made her way to the kitchen and opened the freezer door. Rhett always gave her a hard time about the frozen comfort food she kept there, but that didn’t stop her from stockpiling it.
Nothing really stopped her from her bad habits, whether it be agonizing over things that were long in the past or eating things that did only Lord knew what to her insides.
Jane wondered how many actual food stuffs were in the chosen meal and assumed it was in the less than two percent as she unwrapped the burrito and put it on an old plate she had gotten from her mother. She set the microwave for three minutes on high and proceeded to cook her little burrito into oblivion.
Jane watched the burrito spin on the plate and smelled the frying cheese. There was a chip on the plate and Jane wondered how long it had been there. She watched it rotate around and around, mesmerized by the flaw on the ceramic.
The dishes they owned had all been gifts from Jane’s mother and before that, they had belonged to Jane’s grandmother. Like the writing desk, they were the last little bit of home Jane had left.
The microwave beeped and, without thinking, Jane reached for the plate.
The heat seared her hand, startled, Jane dropped the burrito and plate, sending chunks of ceramic and fake mexican food everywhere. Jane held her palm to her chest as she surveyed the disaster her carelessness had created. She knew the microwave ran hotter than it should and Rhett usually had to be the one to remind her to use a potholder when taking things out. She knew these things and still she didn’t think about it. Jane closed her eyes and held her breath, trying not to let the self-hatred consume her.
Jane looked down at the smart welt on her hand and knew she should run the burn under cold water to get the heat out, but she didn’t have the energy to care that much about her hand. She had just dropped something that meant worlds to her. Her heart sank further into its melancholy state and she thought of all the different times she had let her everyone down.
This was just one more thing to add to the list. One more thing to remind her she wasn’t a part of a family anymore. But isn’t that the way things had always been? She hadn’t spoken to her father in five years before he died and she barely thought of her little brother. The only person she really cared about was her older brother and even then, he was a whole ocean away. Jane sniffed and got out the broom. Better to clean up her mess and move on. After all, it’s what she had been doing her whole life.
Two hours later Jane was sitting in her car, staring out the windshield at the box of dishes sitting in the garage. If she was going to admit she wasn’t a part of the family anymore then she was going to make it stick and that meant getting rid of all the reminders.
She opened the garage door and put the car in reverse. They needed new dishes anyways, it was a long time coming Jane reasoned, trying to feel like she wasn’t letting her bitterness cloud her judgment.
Halfway down the block, Jane knew she was turning her back on her heritage. When she got to the mall parking lot, she was almost alright with it. As she picked out a new pattern and bought eight place settings, she felt somehow vindicated.
She had nothing and no one. Everything was as it should be.
Kaliningrad, Russia
Kelly
In a small cafe off the main strip of businesses lining the docks Kelly sat across from Casimir Volkov, sharing the breakfast he never thought he was going to get aboard The Reliant. The weather hadn’t improved from its salty gray and Kelly wondered if things would ever actually get better, or if this was a taste of what he had to look forward to later on in life. Working for the Prescotts, but never being one. Still kept at arm’s length. Family didn’t mean much to people like the Prescotts. They knew and respected money, everything else was just filler.
“Bill Prescott is more than respectable. But that child of his is unruly.” Casimir was saying, taking a drink of his tea, “There’s a reason people call him The Bull.”
Kelly nodded, he had heard the stories before. Bill Prescott wasn’t the type of man to be trifled with. It made his stomach turn just a little bit to know Bill had recommended Kelly for a job of sorts. Did Bill see some of his ruthlessness in Kelly?
“Which is why it’s so funny that little pup of his is giving him so much trouble. Spoiled from infancy, most children won’t understand the truth of hard work. They don’t value conventional things.” Casimir continued, his light blue eyes staring at Kelly fully, taking in whatever Kelly’s presence had to offer.
Kelly swallowed a bite of food, trying to think of something to say to add to the conversation, but he knew it didn’t really matter. Casimir would most likely fill in the silent gaps with his own voice, everyone else seemed to when speaking with him. His words weren’t necessary, just his presence.
“You know, when my father was alive, Mikhail and I had to work seven days a week, every day of the year. Holidays didn’t exist to us, days off were a laughable notion. Now look at us.” Casimir smiled with satisfaction. “We’re wealthy men. And we’re happy.”
Kelly nodded, he saw what Casimir was trying to get at, he understood it, but he didn’t fully agree with it. Casimir was handed a family business, not as successful as it was now, but still, he was given a fighting chance. Kelly was given no such thing.
Casimir smirked, “You don’t believe me.”
Kelly looked at Casimir straight on then, wondering if the Russian would appreciate some honesty, “Not in my circumstances, no.”
Casimir continued to smirk, “I did my homework on you, Kelly Hill and I liked what I saw.”
Kelly frowned, no one liked what they saw when they inspected a Hill at close range, Casimir had to be mistaken. At the end of the day, he wasn’t worth much.
“Men only come in certain types. There are those who work and those who don’t see the point in it.” Casimir took another drink of tea, “My brother and Ryan fit into the latter. You and I, we belong to the former.”
“How do you know I like to work?” Kelly hadn’t stopped frowning. Casimir may be a smart business man, but he knew when a person was making a bad judgment call and if Casimir was seriously regarding Kelly Hill as anything more than what he had always been, he was sorely mistaken.
“It’s simple, you didn’t go with Mikhail today.” Casimir shrugged off Kelly’s doubts.
“That’s just because I don’t like Ryan.” Kelly pointed out, believing what he was saying was valid, but the way Casimir chuckled made Kelly feel like it wasn’t.
“Kelly, Bill talks so highly of his nephew, it’s a wonder he’s not grooming you to take over when he retires.” Casimir was serious again, all business.
“The job is Ryan’s, I’m not going to try and steal it from him.” Kelly didn’t believe the Russian anyway, but he wanted Casimir to know that Kelly couldn’t be so easily swayed. He saw what Casimir was trying to do and Kelly needed him to know that he was still loyal to his family, h
e wouldn’t betray them in thought or action, no matter how much he detested them at the moment.
“That’s Bill’s mistake.” Casimir took a bite of food, “But you don’t have to stand behind that, it wasn’t your choice to make, you don’t have to feel the burden of that.”
“What are you suggesting? A hostile take over?” Kelly laughed, incredulous.
“No, no, let Bill sink his own ship on that one.” Casimir wiped his mouth with a napkin, “We won’t need him in the long run. What I’m looking at is more of a long term job.”
“You want to offer me a job?” Kelly’s frown had returned at full force.
Casimir nodded slowly, “I would love to offer you a job, Kelly. It pays well. Well enough to give you the leg up you want, and it’s easy enough. Easy for a man like you.”
Kelly was shaking his head no before his lips formed the words he needed to turn down Casimir, “I can’t work here. I don’t even know what I’d be doing.”
“Well, you’d be head of customer relations, that’s what all of your paychecks would say.” Casimir shrugged, “But I suppose I could be wrong. It’s entirely possible that you’re not up for it.”
“Customer relations?” Kelly took a drink of water, trying to decipher what Casimir’s hidden agenda was. Everyone had one, it was just a matter of how close they played it to their chest.
“Here.” Casimir removed a piece of paper from his pocket and slid it across the table, “Consider this a signing bonus if you agree.”
Kelly blinked and looked at the paper. It was a check, already made out in his name. Casimir had been thinking about this for awhile. But how in the world had he gotten ahold of Kelly’s name? Unless he was telling the truth about Bill praising him when he wasn’t around.
450,000 dollars. Kelly swallowed. That was a lot of money. More money than he had ever dreamed of earning at one job. He had never even graduated high school.
“What would I be doing exactly?” Kelly didn’t take his eyes off the check, but he didn’t touch it either. He trusted Casimir even less than before, but he was interested now.