All Blues

by Marie Wathen

  “I’m fine,” I snap, and her smile falls with my pissed off tone. That came out a little harsher than she deserves. My eyes flick toward the bedroom at the back of the plane, and then I look at her again. Part of me, the bitter bastard with his head stuck up his ass, wishes that Yazmene was here instead of this sweet little old lady. My former flight attendant was hot. Probably hot enough to make me forget all the bullshit. Wishing I could erase that last thought, I will do anything–even fuck a stewardess who wants to use me, just so I can force Angel out of my system. Still pissed, I reply in a softer tone through my clenched jaw, “I’m sorry, Sonya. Tell the pilot to get this damn bird in the air as quickly as possible. I will be resting in my suite until we land.”

  “Very well,” she replies with a bit of a wounded attitude, and then strengthening her tone, she adds, “Use the intercom should you require anything.” She turns away sharply, entering the cockpit and leaving me to sulk.

  Buckling my seatbelt, I slump within the large captain’s chair, dropping my forehead into my right hand, and closing my eyes to block out everything. The plane vibrates as we taxi down the runway and within a few minutes we are at cruising altitude. Sonya checks on me again when I rise from my chair, going into the back bedroom. Instead of being an asshole with my sharp tongue, I ignore her, and I feel bad about it, but right now I just don’t care if I hurt some sweet, little, old woman’s feelings. It doesn’t matter anyway. There is nothing that she can offer me. No one can.

  Clicking the door closed behind me, I toe off my shoes, slip out of my dress coat and then face plant onto the white down comforter. A pathetic groan rumbles out of my chest, muffled by the thick blanket. Thank fuck, too. I don’t need anyone knowing how close I am to feeling like a chick suffering with a case of PMS from hell. Rolling over, I feel an insurmountable pressure on the left side of my chest. My hand comes up, covering the spot, and I rub. But, the action is futile. The pain surging through me isn’t physical, although it sure as hell feels like my heart is being carved out with a dull knife, the truth is that I am suffering from a damn broken heart that didn’t break even–it was left in shards.

  Jamming my hand into my front pant pocket, I pull out the crinkled up paper, smooth it out and then read the words silently over and over, trying to make sense of the small note–or Dear John letter–that I discovered a few hours ago.

  Blues,

  I needed time to get over what happened with Wise and with your help I’ve done that. Thank you. I need to be with Decks. Don’t come after me and don’t come between us.

  Angel

  ‘Don’t come after me?’ Don’t worry, doll, I will not make that mistake again. The snake bite of her betrayal becomes venomous twisted thoughts. She used me, and now, she’s running back into Decks’ waiting arms. I just don’t understand why. After last night, I was sure that we were past her needing that piece of shit bastard. I was wrong, so fucking wrong. She gave me her body, but that’s where it stopped. The anguish stretches across my sternum, invading my lungs, and I struggle with taking in air through my painfully compressed jaw. My free hand comes up, fisted tightly, and then thumps hard against my forehead over and over again. It’s fine. I will be fucking fine. Deep breaths. Slow and calm, you naïve dipshit, I repeat, like some yoga guru who is tripping on a hit of acid. My internal maniacal mantra is useless. I’m royally fucked. Nothing is fine. She chose Decks. Fuck it all. I say good riddance. I refuse to play the fool again. Once was too many, but she has proven me the clown several times now by leaving me behind. I’m done.

  Max offered no explanation when I called him after discovering her missing. Seriously, what the fuck? Traitor! The best he could muster was that I should believe the words in her letter and then wait. Pfft! Wait for what? She needs Decks’. That’s exactly what her goddamn letter reads. How could I be so foolish to believe that we were past needs and wants, moving on to more in-depth feelings? Goddammit, I sound like I am growing a vag.

  Played. I guess the old saying of, ‘You can’t con a con,’ doesn’t hold water in this scenario. My conscience is telling me that I should have listen to Lourdes when she was spouting off about her using Decks. Clearly, the psycho bitch can spot a trick when she sees one. I honestly thought that her issues were all born out of jealousy. I trusted the wrong woman, not that I would ever buy into the bullshit Lourdes was selling. But, Angel got under my skin, and I fell, face first, into the victim role of her seductive scam. What in the hell did she get out of pulling this shit? What is Angel’s ultimate ploy? She had me, the goddamn second in command. I would have given her everything. There is no doubt that she knew my feelings for her, but she gave me up for a lower level grunt, although he is the nephew to the cartel boss.

  Restless with my overactive mind, I don’t realize that the plane has landed in Tampa. Sonya’s relentless knocks on the door are what finally draw me out of my misery. Lucky for me, she doesn’t dwell over our issue from earlier, and offers me a polite goodbye.

  Disembarking from the plane, the sweltering heat rolling off the hot southern city adds to my discomfort until I’m seated in the back of a comfortably cool, stretched limo. I order the cartel paid driver to drop me off at an upscale nightclub not far from the airport. To him, this is just another run of the mill business trip, one similar to many that I’ve been on over the past couple of years. The eastern Florida city is one of Nelson’s main selling grounds, so nothing seems suspicious. Exactly how I designed it.

  Once the limousines’ taillights fade into the darkness, I retrieve a disposable cell from my briefcase, dialing the number for a local cab company. Running a scam to become invisible from Nelson’s prying eyes, I schedule them to meet me at the bus station two blocks away. Taking the back alleys, I hide in the shadows, ensuring that no one is following my trail. An hour later, I slip out of the men’s room in the greyhound bus station, heading toward the cheapest taxi in the area. These guys will do anything for a few bucks and considering that I’ve temporarily shucked out of my shiny, Armani look for a redneck, nobody persona, he barely casts a glance at me in the rear mirror, but his eyes take note of the flash of green, minus a tip, that I palm to him after he drops me at the airport. Observing me closely as I retreat, all the angry cabbie sees is a ball cap, resting low on my forehead, a sleeveless flannel shirt and grease-stained denims.

  My last minute coach plane ticket gets me a middle seat on a commuter flight to my final destination on this incognito trip. Touching down forty-five minutes later, I am shuffled with the rest of the travelers toward the loading zone, where I locate an available taxi.

  “Where to?” the driver asks from the front seat, his light-colored eyes peer at me through the front mirror.

  “I hear that this place is filled with tourist spots. Where should I start?” I know exactly what he’ll suggest before the words slip from his proud smile.

  “You are right about that assessment. There are hundreds of beautiful locations that you must check out during your trip, but to start the adventure, you must experience our most iconic landmark.” His smile grows brighter when he explains, “The Renaissance Castle is the most breathtaking place on Willow Island.” Happy that we are indeed on the same page, I nod and we’re off.

  During the drive up the mountain where the Renaissance castle looms steadily over the swirling sparkling waters of the Gulf of Mexico, I find that I don’t have to force myself to enjoy it. The island is breathtaking. Even though it feels like I have a shaky finger poised over a hair-trigger on a shotgun aimed at my heart, I will the self-control back when I exit the shuttle, stopped at the entryway. The castle is an imposing structure that appears to be a couple of hundred years old. It hangs dangerously close to the edge of the mountain, directly over the roaring ocean, clashing against the jagged rocks below.

  I get one pull off of my cigarette before I am greeted by an elderly woman, who insists on escorting me. After climbing up three flights of stairs, we turn right, walk the length of the hallway, and
then I hear familiar voices beyond the closed wooden door. She leaves me, and I rap my knuckles twice before the door is jerked open.

  “You’re here,” Natalie greets with a bright smile, clapping her hands excitedly. Her eyes scan my face, glances behind me and then her pretty lips instantly turn downward. She spots the smile that I’m forcing and huffs, “Ah hell, where is she?”

  “Not coming and I’m not discussing it,” I reply, my hands fisting beside my thighs. She stares silently for several seconds. “Are you going to invite me in? Or are you going to ignore my plea and force me to endure your twenty questions while standing in the hallway?”

  Snapping out of it, she says, “Of course, come in.” She steps back, pulling the door open. “I’m sorry, Eth. I just wanted to see Angel too.”

  I walk through the door, anger radiates off of me violently, and I snarl, “Don’t say her name around me.” She gasps. This conversation can’t happen. I must move on and talking about her won’t help. “Where is he?”

  “You look like life punched you in the face?” Jude states stepping into the room and observing my guarded and pissed off expression. He has no idea how right he is about that assessment. I’ve been in an arena with a heavyweight, got KO’d, and now I am tired of the fight.

  “Not going to discuss someone that means nothing to me,” I lie, crossing the room, and then change the subject. “I can’t even tell you how damn good it is to see you.” We hug, and I’ll be honest, it isn’t your typical manly side hug. I embrace the life out of him for a solid minute.

  “Unstoppable, baby,” he gloats, “Juan fucked up going against you, Eth.” We release, step apart, and I see that he has that arrogant smile pinned on his face.

  “I didn’t do shit.” I point at him. “I’m still expecting a full debriefing on the shooting. Count on me never forgetting that you kept that bullshit from me.”

  “Oh, so it’s like that, is it?” He shakes his head and crosses his arms. “I’ll point out that you lied to me too, asshole. I guess we both did what was necessary for what matters the most.” His eyes shift to something behind me, so I twist around. Standing in the doorway is his wife, son and daughter. My eyes burn, and the anger wanes away, knowing that they are worth more hell than I’ve ever endured, or can expect to face.

  Hugs and kisses ensue, and within a matter of minutes I’m covered in Princess glitter. Simone decides to sit me down at her beauty parlor table so she can ‘make me pretty.’ She mentions Angel’s name several times, calling her Empress Angel and telling me how much she hates wearing glitter too. My jaw hurts like a motherfucker from clenching so tightly, but I endure the whole scene because it’s Simone. I will sacrifice everything to see her pretty little smile. For a half an hour, she smoothers me in girly crap before Natalie comes to my rescue by escorting Simone and Dean downstairs for dinner.

  With the room quiet, I glance up at my former partner, smiling and shaking his head. “It amazes me that you let her do that shit to you. On occasion, she puts me through the ringer too, but you aren’t required to play dress-up, you know?” I sigh, shifting my eyes down to my hands. He has no idea that seeing his little girl happy and having him still here with me, brings me more joy than suffering through a girlie moment. “You want to talk about the scene at Holidays?” Jude asks, changing the subject. He stands near me, still sitting on the tiny three-legged chair at the small pink beautician’s workstation.

  Shaking my head, I clear my throat and say, “I’m satisfied with you and them being here, so I’ll let it go for now.”

  “Not what I was talking about.”

  My nostrils flare, and I angle my head, directing my gaze away from his piercing eyes. “There is nothing else.” I rise up, dusting off my hands, watching the sparkles flitter to the floor, covering my boots.

  “Whatever, man,” he replies. “Listen, I won’t pretend that I know what you’re going through, because I don’t even know what happened. The only thing I do know is that Natalie saw you two together after the funeral. I assumed you’ve been with her since.” I don’t respond. “Fine, but I’m here. After everything that you’ve done for us, I owe you, Eth.”

  “I’m going to find my sisters and Urban.”

  “Tac’s here too,” he tells me, following me into the dark corridor. “Their rooms are at the other end of the hallway.” He chuckles. I shift my eyes back to him, wondering what’s so funny about that. “Good thing too, otherwise your little brother would be perpetually covered in that shit.” He points to the glitter smeared on my shirt. “Simone declared a couple of days ago that he would marry her when she’s bigger.”

  Even as grumpy as I still am, I can’t help snorting at that idea. “Probably scared the kid to death.”

  “If she didn’t, I will,” he says jokingly, while popping a fist into his open hand and then cracking his knuckles. But, I get the feeling that he really wouldn’t want his little girl getting mixed up with a Sloane. Smirking, I stare ahead, facing the poorly lit passage way. I guess I can’t blame him for the protectiveness. Reaching the stairway, he says, “I know that Max has you bringing Decks in to wrangle up Dr. A.” I nod, not meeting his eyes. “If anyone can get him, it’s you, Eth. I have no doubts about it, just…” my eyes shift to meet his after hearing a sizeable strangeness in his voice, “don’t give up.”

  Truthfully, I don’t believe that I have faith in the capabilities that he believes me to possess in order to stop the sick bastard. After the recent shit, the only thing I have going for me is a restless soul. Still, I affirm, “Never.”

  Today, I can actually see where I did give up my ghost for Angel. I was stupefied by an improbable love. Never again will I allow anything, or anyone to distract me from my task.

  Slapping a hand on my shoulder, he says, “All right, I’m going to find my family. I hope you’ll stay for a couple of days.”

  “Count on it.” With that we part ways, and I wander down to the two doors on this end of the wing, knocking on the one furthest away.

  The door jerks open, and I am greeted with a loud whiney, “What?” Oakley’s dark blue eyes pop open when she sees that I’m the visitor. “Are you freaking kidding me?” she snaps, “No, just no.” I grin at my baby sister and that spirited manner.

  “Good to see too, Shades,” I tease, using the nickname she’s grown up with. Stepping in without her inviting me, I feel eyes on me as soon as I enter the large room. Moving my gaze toward the far side of the room, I see her standing in the adjoining doorway, and my smile spreads naturally. “Come on. I need to see you, too.”

  “I don’t like it here, Ethan,” Indie complains, crossing the room with her arms cinched tightly around her body.

  Before I can reply, Oakley beats me to it with an angry yell, “Don’t waste your breath, Indie. He doesn’t give a damn about you, me or anyone other than himself. Piece of…”

  I spin around facing Oakley, and Indie hums out of anxiety. It’s the sound she makes before she goes into a full-blown meltdown. “You’re grown now, but there is no reason to disrespect me. Keep your opinions, but don’t you dare take that tone around, Indie.” I point an accusing finger directly at my baby sister, narrowing my eyes and waiting for her to back talk. “Got me?”

  Not disappointing, she huffs, “What are you doing here?” Waving her hands in front of her, she shakes her head, “No, you know what, I don’t care. Please, explain exactly why we were brought to this godforsaken island in the middle of no damn where?”

  “I’m protecting you, Oakley. All of you,” I check on Indie, offering her a tight smile.

  “Protect me at my home in Birmingham,” Oakley barks. “I miss school and my friends. IT’S MY SENIOR YEAR, ETHAN. I want to go home.”

  Gripping the back of my neck fiercely, I snap, “No, you will stay here until I say otherwise.” Indie hums louder. I turn, facing her, catching her attention by placing a tender hand on her elbow, which makes her shriek. Normally, I wouldn’t touch her, but she couldn’t see o
r hear me with her eyes pinched together and both hands jammed onto her ears. “Sorry, sis, we’re stopping now.” I cut my eyes at Oakley, daring her to utter one more word. “I’m here for a few days. We’ll call a family meeting tomorrow and discuss everything. I want you to know the truth. For now, let’s join everyone downstairs for dinner.” Oakley makes a pfft sound, like she doesn’t want to hear anything that I have to say, so I emphasize, “We are talking it out, and then maybe you will understand exactly why I do what it is that makes you hate me so much.” Her eyes are narrowed and the look screams, ‘Die.’

  If only I could.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Lying in the large bed on the top floor of Hotel Willow, I scrub my fingers into my burning eyes and then push off the mattress, heading into the shower. Every muscle in my body screams because of the four hour workout that I punished it with until two in the morning. Even the crazy cool endorphins that I love so much couldn’t pull me out of my funk. The six glasses of Kentucky whiskey afterward sure as hell didn’t help matters. Failing to get any sleep is going to make this one hell of a family reunion. I feel like one of Nelson’s burly hired henchmen is jack hammering my damn skull open. My concentration is split in two. The importance of what I’m doing here now is overshadowed by what I had only a couple of days ago. I’ve got to keep them separated. The problem is that I’m falling to pieces, and Angel has moved on. I have to keep reminding myself to forget her, but the memories are a fucking torment to my mind, body and soul. Flashes of our time together, the sensation of her body still pressing against mine, and the unadulterated love I feel all hold me hostage in our twisted affair.