by Banks, R. R.
“Aidan, I have to work,” she replies. “I can't just blow it off. I've got bills to pay, and –”
“I'll pay them.”
Katie lets out a long, exasperated breath. “Aidan, I like my job – most of the time,” she says. “I don't want to feel like I'm a burden on you. At least, no more than I already do. Besides, I need the distraction. I can’t obsess twenty-four-seven over our baby in the NICU. I mean, at this point, I'm pretty sure he's going to be okay, but you never know. I need something to divert my mind.”
I can see the stubborn defiance in her eyes. Katie prides herself on being strong and independent – not beholden to anybody. It’s something I’ve always admired about her. But, there's being strong, and then there's being stupid.
But, I also understand her need for distraction. I've done my fair share of obsessing over our baby myself. Having something to focus on and take your mind off all the dark possibilities, all the terrible, “what if's” and what could go wrong scenarios is helpful.
But, with Victor looking to snatch her, putting herself at risk by going to a menial job is crazy. It's a risk I can’t let her take.
“You're not a burden on me, Katie. In no way, shape, or form, are you a burden on me,” I say. “Listen, until Victor is caught –”
“Victor may never be caught, Aidan,” she says. “Or, even if he is, he may not be held all that long. Am I supposed to hide out up here forever? I can't do that. You know I can't.”
I let out a long breath. “I know,” I say. “I just – I'm concerned. Very concerned.”
“I know you are,” she replies. “But, I can't stop living my life just because he's out there; we can't stop living our lives.”
I take a long sip of my cocoa and work the problem in my mind.
Can I relinquish the control I crave? Can I accept not imposing my order or will on the world? Especially not with Katie, who's as strong-willed as they come.
Can we find a middle ground?
“I'll make you a deal,” I say.
“A deal?”
I nod. “Yup. A deal.”
She smiles at me. “I'm listening.”
“We'll talk to the bodyguards once they get here,” I say. “Davis will have them all briefed on the situation, so we'll have them do up a quick threat assessment. If they agree it's safe for you to go to work, I'll pack you a lunch, and send you off with a smile.”
“Make sure you cut the crusts off my sandwich please,” she says. “I've never liked them.”
I chuckle. “But, if it's not safe, and they agree that it's too big of a risk to go to work, then you will happily stay here and cut the crusts off my sandwich.”
She gives me a long look, a gentle smile playing upon her lips. After considering it for a few seconds, she nods her head.
“If that will make you feel better, then we have a deal, Mr. Anderson,” she says.
“Good,” I say. “I think it's a fair compromise.”
“Fair enough, anyway,” she replies.
I chuckle. “Like any good business deal, it's all about finding middle ground.”
She gives me a smile, and we sip our cocoa, doing our best to shut out the chaotic world outside.
* * *
Early the next morning, we're back at our usual post outside the NICU. We greet the morning nurses, and get a status report from the doctor before venturing over to our spot and peering in at our baby boy on the other side of the glass.
He's beautiful. Perfectly pink little cheeks, and Katie's soft, gentle eyes. And judging by the way he's crying – her temper. I want to go in there, take him out of that plastic container, and bring him home with me. I want that more than anything.
But, I want him to be healthy, and leave the hospital with a clean bill of health. I've never wanted anything more in my life.
“Dalton,” Katie says.
“What's that?”
“Dalton,” she repeats. “I'm thinking Dalton fits him pretty well.”
She looks up at me for approval, and I give her a lopsided grin.
“I don’t know. Dalton is an okay name, I guess.”
“And what did you have in mind?”
“I was thinking Tiberius,” I say.
“Yeah, no.”
“Tiberius Octavius Anderson,” I say, in my most regal, imperial tone.
“That is so not going to happen,” she laughs.
“Oh, it is most definitely going to happen.”
“In your dreams.”
It feels good to laugh with her. It feels like we haven't shared a genuine laugh between us in years, and the release is nice. As the tension melts away, I think about the name. Dalton. Dalton Anderson. I’m not convinced.
“Dalton, huh?” I ask.
“Yeah, what's wrong with Dalton?”
“Oh, nothing,” I say. “It's a nice name, I suppose.”
“Better than Tiberius.”
“Nothing is better than Tiberius.”
“That is not going to happen, his name is Dalton.” she says and laughs. “Give it up.”
“Come on,” I say. “We need to meet Davis' guys.”
“That's right, I have a bet to win.”
Katie
“I don't see any reason why not,” the large man, Frederick, says.
“You're kidding,” Aidan says. “There are so many variables in a public place. How can you control the crowd? There are just a million different things that could go wrong if you put her in a public place.”
“We've done our homework already, Mr. Anderson. Specifically, in regard to Ms. Weathers. Davis anticipated that she might want to work, so he had us do our due diligence,” Frederick, who seems to speak for the rest of the group, says.
“Leave it to Davis to cover every eventuality,” Aidan says wryly.
“I think I like this man,” I say. “I can't wait to meet him.”
“Anyway,” Frederick goes on, “we've checked out the schedule of professional sports games – which seem to be the single largest driver of customer traffic at the facility where she works – for the next week, and there aren't any games that would seem likely to draw a large crowd. In fact, I'd be surprised if the place was half-full most nights.”
Aidan's friend sent six of the largest, strongest-looking men I've ever seen in my life. Two white men, one Hispanic man, an Asian man, and two black men – all of them bald, and half of them sporting goatees. Makes me wonder if it's part of the suggested uniform. Not a single one of them is under six-foot-two, and they're all built like they played in the NFL.
They're enormous and although they're all dressed in “rustic attire,” – jeans and flannel – which I assume is their attempt to blend into a small, rural town like Ashton Mill, there is no way they won’t stand out. Not only does everybody know everybody here, there isn't a single person in town, aside from Aidan, who look like giants carved from stone. I dare say, this six-pack of men even makes Aidan look a little soft – which is tough to do.
Although, maybe having them stand out isn't necessarily a bad thing. Maybe, if Victor catches a glance at the men who have my back, he'll think twice about trying to grab me. Maybe, it'll be enough to send him back to Atlanta with his tail between his legs, and I'll never see him again.
But then, knowing Victor, it probably won’t. I've never credited him with much in the way of intelligence. Knowing him the way I do, I'd bet he thinks he could take on all six of these walking mountains at once, and win. He reminds me a lot of Leon that way. Morons.
“And what if you're wrong?” Aidan asks. “What if a thousand people suddenly get a wild hair, and want to have a beer while watching the Baltimore and San Diego game?”
“We work in teams of two to guarantee round-the-clock protection,” Frederick explains. “However, if the initial assessment of crowd traffic is incorrect, we'll call in one of the other teams as backup. Ms. Weathers will be perfectly safe in our care. I assure you.”
“See?” I say to Aidan. “Perfec
tly safe.”
“There is nothing perfectly safe about this. Not with –”
I hold up my finger to him and grin. “You made a deal. And you can't change it just because you don't like the outcome,” I say. “Now, go cut the crusts off my sandwich.”
He smirks and shakes his head. “For the record, I still don't like this.”
“Noted,” I say. “But look at these guys. Nobody is going to mess with me with them watching over me. Not unless they come armed with a tank.”
Frederick smiles, but the others remain silent and expressionless. Clearly, a vibrant, bubbly personality isn't required for the job. As long as they can keep me safe though, that's all I care about.
“So, I'll give you boys a little time to get settled in,” I say. “And I'll get ready for work. Meet back down here in say, half an hour?”
Frederick nods. “Half an hour,” he says. “Roger that.”
I hear Aidan sigh as I walk away. Then I hear him start whispering urgently to the crew, no doubt trying to get them to re-think their initial threat assessment. I know he's worried – and I appreciate it – but I can't do anything about that. I can't stop living my life, and I refuse to retreat behind these walls forever.
If Victor wants to take another shot at me, I'd rather he do it when I have some modicum of control over the situation. Given that he's never going to do it here – not with Aidan's security systems or the Godzilla-sized bodyguards running around – he's going to have to do it at work. Which limits his options, and makes him more likely to do something stupid that's going to lead to him being taken down.
And if I'm ever going to be able to start a life with Aidan and Dalton – seriously, what kind of name is Tiberius? – I need Victor out of my life once and for all.
One chapter closes, another one begins. It's that simple.
* * *
“So, what can I get you guys to drink? Beer? Something else?” I ask.
“Water, please,” Frederick says and then explains, “We're on duty.”
“I'd like a Coke, please,” says Antonio.
“Comin' right up,” I say more cheerily than I feel.
Frederick and his partner, Antonio, are seated at a table near the rear corner of the bar – giving them an unobstructed view of the place. Of me. Of the two, Frederick is the more gregarious. Though, that's not saying much. Neither speaks that often, and both are surprisingly soft spoken when they do.
Both definitely put out an intimidating vibe. It's something every single person in the bar noticed the minute we walked through the door. All conversations ceased, and all eyes immediately turned to them. And by extension, me. The tension in the bar ratcheted up to the maximum level, and people looked genuinely uneasy.
It's the most uncomfortable feeling to have everybody watching me the way they are. When I come to their tables, nobody will look me in the eye, and they're all short and clipped when speaking to me. Even the regulars I've gotten to know. There's an air of fear and tension in the place that's almost stifling, and I wonder if maybe I made a mistake by being stubborn and returning to work.
I hope to god this thing with Victor is over soon, so things can get back to normal.
I drop off their drinks and hustle around the room, taking orders and trying to act like the situation is perfectly fine. That everything is normal. I'm doing my best to pretend there aren't two walking, talking hitmen sitting in the corner, watching me. Trust me, it isn’t easy.
It's nearing ten, and the place is a little more than half full. It’s a little busier than I expected, which is good. I’m busy, but not too busy – just the perfect amount to distract me. Hail Mary is actually just about how full the bodyguards predicted it would be. Kudos to them. They are clearly good at what they do.
The buzz of conversation has picked up, and the tension that saturated the air has mostly lifted, as my two bodyguards have more or less faded into the background. Or at least, everyone is doing a way better job of pretending they're not there.
I'm actually starting to feel a little better about things. And then Leon and Danny show up. Great. With a sigh, I walk over to their table, wanting to get this over with.
“What can I get for you guys?”
Leon smirks at me. “Where's your boyfriend?” he asks. “Didn't you just squeeze out a brat? Where's the kid?”
“Drink orders,” I say. “What do you want?”
“What I want, is you on the end of my dick,” Leon says.
I let out a long breath, doing my best to control my temper. “Either give me your drink order or get out,” I say. “I'm not in the mood for your shit tonight, Leon.”
He snickers and nudges Danny in the shoulder. Danny just smirks and nods his head. He's a simple-minded fool.
“You know, you oughta learn to be a little more polite to your patrons. Show a little more gratitude,” Leon says. “After all, you rely on our tips, don't ya? How ya gonna feed the little ankle-biter if you ain't makin' money, honey?”
“If you actually tipped worth a shit, I'd worry about it,” I say and roll my eyes.
“Now, c'mon, Katie,” he says. “I'm always good to you. I'm nice. Why can't you be nice to me?”
“Fine,” I say. “If you're not going to order, suit yourselves.”
I turn to leave, and Leon grabs my ass. I whirl around and smack him across the face. The crack of my hand meeting his cheek cuts through the noise of the bar, and all eyes turn to us once more. Leon holds his hand to his cheek, a dangerous glint in his eye, a predatory smile on his face. It's Danny though, that draws my attention. He's looking behind Leon with eyes wider than dinner plates.
I glance up and see Frederick standing behind Leon, a look of absolute disgust on his face. I don't know how Frederick covered that much distance that quickly – and without me noticing. I would have thought I would have noticed a mountain moving through the bar. But, here he is.
Leon, finally notices that all eyes are on something behind him, and slowly turns around. I actually hear his breath catch in his throat as he takes Frederick in, his eyes moving from head to toe. He clears his throat, as he quickly tries to recover his bluster, and what's left of his dignity.
“There a problem here?” Frederick says, his voice deep and booming.
“W – what's it to you?” Leon spits.
“I think you should go now,” Frederick says, his eyes riveted on Leon's.
“Mister, I don't know who you are, but you can go fuck yourself,” Leon replies, though his voice is lacking its usual fire and conviction.
Leon puffs himself up and tries to look tough. I can see the truth in his eyes, though – he's about to piss his pants. He knows this would be a losing proposition for him. He's either going to be humiliated in the bar – again. Or, he's going to suffer a worse beatdown than the one he got from Aidan. Either way, he's going to look like a chump. And he knows it.
But, he also has a reputation to protect – that of the town bully. Leon picks on smaller, weaker people to make himself look good. Look tough. Macho. He still dines out on it. People make way for him, and he struts around like he's the shit. When, in actuality, he's just a piece of shit.
Frederick casually draws his coat back, revealing the butt of what looks like a very large gun in a shoulder holster. Leon's eyes grow wide, and he swallows hard.
“T – that supposed to intimidate me or somethin'?”
A smirk tugs at one corner of Frederick's mouth. “No,” he says. “I just figured you'd want to see what you'll be begging for if I have to put my hands on you. I'll beat you so bad, you'll be begging me to shoot you dead, boy.”
“Fuck you,” Leon spits, trying to remain defiant.
“Yeah, you said that already,” Frederick replies, his voice cold and hard. “Now, you can leave this bar on your own two feet, or you can leave in the back of an ambulance. Your choice. But, you have ten seconds to make it.”
All movement in the bar has stopped. I have to admit, if I was in here, hav
ing a drink, this would be pretty compelling stuff to watch. All the patrons, however terrified, probably just want to see Leon get beat. Again.
“Five seconds,” Frederick says.
Leon tries to puff himself up, but fails. He looks around the bar, at all the eyes staring back at him, and seems to realize he's not going to find a single ally in the crowd. No one is coming to save him. He looks over at Danny, who sits there, staring at Frederick as if in a trance.
“Yeah, well, fuck this place,” Leon says, trying to regain some measure of his pride. “It's a shithole anyway. And fuck all y’all. C'mon, Danny. Let's find somewhere else to spend our money.”
Leon and Danny slink out of the bar, slamming the door behind them. I turn my eyes to Frederick and give him a thankful smile. My first instinct is, of course, to be pissed – just like I'd blown up at Aidan for getting involved. But, as I've come to learn, sometimes I can’t do everything on my own. Sometimes, I need a little help. I don’t need to be ashamed about it.
It's not easy. Not after a lifetime of having to go it alone. But, I'm learning. Or at least, I'm trying to.
I follow Frederick back to his table, and surprisingly enough, the buzz of conversation around the bar picks right back up, as if nothing happened. The air of tension and the expectation of violence dissipated when Leon walked out, and the atmosphere is lively and light. Maybe I'm crazy, but it even feels a little lighter than it did before.
“Thank you,” I say to Frederick.
“Just doing my job,” he says.
I notice the two pieces of the straw sitting on the table – one longer than the other – and laugh.
“You drew the short straw,” I say. “Literally.”
For the first time, Antonio grins. “Having both of us over there seemed like a little bit of overkill,” he says, his accent faintly coloring his voice. “That guy's a toad.”
“My nephew could have put that turd in his place,” Frederick says. “And he's only twelve.”
I laugh and shake my head. Cold and stoic on the outside, I see a warmth and a sense of humor in both men. Seeing them as actual people, rather than emotionless killing machines, helps me feel a little more at ease around them.