The woman who has been helping us darts off to locate the same suit Marty is currently wearing in charcoal before Marty starts debating with himself for ten minutes before trying it on. She returns shortly and shoos Marty back into the changing room, handing him the new suit. He emerges, and he is looking pretty fly. “Nice,” Bobby says.
“Yeah, Amy will like that,” Randy adds.
Marty checks himself out in the mirror, and he puts on the tie –crooked, of course. Am I seriously the only one in my group of friends who knows how to tie a damn tie? I help him out, and he nods approvingly once he can see the look in full. “Yeah, I like it. Let’s go with that,” he says and offers me a smile. “Thanks, man.”
Yes –something other than a grimace! The rest of us get fitted for the matching suits, and we make it out of there in time to head to our dinner reservations –a sort of pre-celebratory bachelor party. I’m sure Tyler has something better planned for the actual bachelor party, but it’s not like we’re not going to enjoy ourselves at dinner tonight… except for Bobby and I since these assholes won’t let either of us former alcoholics drink.
Randy bails on us, which Marty had expected and hoped for. I’m pretty sure Randy was just asked to be a groomsman because Marty needed the numbers and because their mother had insisted. So now it’s just the four of us again, sitting at a bar and enjoying an array of appetizers while Bobby and I stare longingly at the pitcher Marty and Tyler had ordered.
We talk about Marty and about Amy; it’s the most obvious conversational topic to have with their wedding rapidly approaching. About halfway through dinner, the conversation turns towards the big elephant in the room: me, Brandi, and Laurel. “So how is it working at the gym with Laurel there?” Tyler asks flatly.
“She hasn’t been coming to the gym,” I say. “I guess she just needs some time.”
“I would too,” Marty grumbles. “You were an ass.”
“Look, I don’t want to hear it from you, Marty –especially not after I found out you were being Brandi’s little spy,” I snarl.
Marty leans back in the booth and crosses his arms. “Yeah, that was before you got seriously involved with Laurel, though –and I was trying to help you out, man. I was telling her about how you were getting your shit together because, in case you had forgotten, you’re kind of having a kid with her. Thought I was helping.”
“All right, easy guys,” Bobby says. “I think we can all agree Jonathan was a dick, but Brandi is his wife.”
“Was,” Tyler corrected; I’m sure he’s been getting an earful from Marianna about the whole ordeal.
“Was,” Bobby says.
“You two used to like Brandi,” I say while glaring across the table at Marty and Tyler.
“Yeah, well, we like Laurel too,” Marty says. “And leaving her to try to restore whatever you had with Brandi would have been one thing, man, but you just packed up your shit in the middle of the night without warning. Laurel deserved better than that.”
Didn’t realize my fellas were so taken by Laurel. I guess they have a lot more in common with the MMA star than the dainty ballerina that’s currently carrying my child. “We liked Brandi, Jonathan,” Tyler says, “But come on –she was sleeping with that creep Donte. That was just a jab at you, and you know it. I mean, it’s not like she cheated or anything, but what kind of sense does that make?”
“All right, that’s enough,” I warn. “Brandi and I are back together, and we’re having a baby. A daughter. And that’s how it’s going to be, and I’d appreciate it if my friends would not treat her like shit –got it?”
“Got it,” Tyler and Marty grumble.
“So is she that bad?” Bobby asks; he hadn’t met me until after Brandi and I had split.
“No, she’s actually pretty decent,” Tyler admits. “She just couldn’t handle this moron when he fell off the wagon and ruined his career.”
Bobby huffs. “I can relate.”
“What is your story anyways?” Tyler asks, pulling the attention off of me and onto Bobby. “Jonathan says you used to be the city’s DA?”
“My story is that I couldn’t handle my drink. I got fired. My lady left me. I joined AA. Then I got a job as a grunge boy at a small law firm that was willing to take a chance on me. That’s pretty much it,” Bobby says.
I’m pretty sure that Marty is the only one of us who really has his shit together. Tyler, the former foster kid, lives in a ghetto-ass apartment in the sketchiest neighborhood in town; he’s an amateur boxer who has to work a second job at the city dump to make ends meet. I’m a washed up boxer and former alcoholic who is sleeping with his ex-wife just because she turned up pregnant. Then there’s Bobby –the former DA who is lucky if he gets put on a small case that far less experienced lawyers would turn their noses up at. These are my guys, though. It makes me miss Gabe; I think he would have liked Bobby. Gabe was on his way to bigger and better things, I’m sure. He probably would have gone from a trainers assistant to a head trainer or even a professional boxer in a few years had he not been killed. I try not to think about it –to think about our kid brother we had lost. For now, I just enjoy giving Marty a hard time about his upcoming betrothal. At least he and Tyler are talking to me again.
**Click Here To Grab GO Faster Book Ten**
65
I smile as Brandi holds up this pink, frilly stuffed bunny rabbit. “What do you think?” she asks for the hundredth time today. Today we are picking out nursery décor at a local baby store, and Brandi is being her indecisive self. We have yet to nail down a theme, and Brandi insists that there must be a theme. We’ve only been here for a little while –about ten minutes or so, but I have this feeling in the pit of my stomach that we are going to be here all day; I don’t mind too much, though. This is a big deal to both Brandi and to me. It is for our daughter, after all.
Believe it or not, I am actually really enjoying this –like really enjoying this. Crazy –right? I am actually having fun looking at all this pink girly stuff that could potentially go into my daughter’s room. “Have we nailed down a name yet?” I ask. “I feel like once we get a name, we’ll know what we want for her room.”
“Good point,” Brandi says and puts the bunny back up on the shelf. She sashays down the aisle. “What are our top three?”
“Eliza, Ambriel, and Susan,” I say.
“Scratch Susan,” Brandi says. “I know I said I wanted her to be named after my mom, but I just am not feeling that name for our baby.”
Thank God. I really didn’t want my daughter to be named Susan. “Okay,” I say. “So that just leaves Eliza and Ambriel. So it’s the moment of truth, Brandi. What’s it going to be?”
She smiles at me and reaches out, poking me in the chest. “You pick.”
I freeze. Is she serious? Surely she’s not serious. “You want me to pick?”
“After the way I was when it came to you and this baby, I think I owe it to you to let you pick out her name –especially since its two names I chose anyways. I’d be happy with either one. So you pick –are we having an Eliza or an Ambriel?” She doesn’t look at me; she is too distracted looking at these goofy looking baby calendars and oohing and ahhing at each one of them like they are just the most amazing things she has ever seen. The aisle we’re in has a number of weird knick-knacks like that. I’m sure we’ll wind up picking out a baby book while we’re here; I don’t even want to know how many clothes we’ll wind up buying before the day is out. Brandi has been eyeing the dresses over in the corner ever since we first got here.
I already have a favorite name, so I choose rather quickly. “Ambriel,” I say confidently.
She turns around at me and has this incredibly happy look about her. “Good. That one was my favorite too.”
“Okay,” I say, “Ambriel it is. So, what will our little Ambriel like?”
“Pink, for sure,” Brandi says. “It’s got to be pink and frilly with a name like Ambriel.”
Then I spot something across the
store that grabs my attention. “Oh my gosh, Brandi, look!” I grab her wrist and practically drag her and her giant belly through the entire shop over to where this sample nursery is set up. It’s the mobile hanging over the bed that caught my attention. It’s pink and fluffy just like Brandi wants, but the theme is just perfect. It’s girly and sporty –like us. There’s a pink softball, a ballerina slipper, and by some grace of God –the one sport that is literally never represented in these sort of collaborative things –a pair of pink boxing gloves.
Brandi smiles. “That is the cutest thing! Look at the little ballerina slipper.” There is a fake excitement in her voice.
“You don’t like it?” I ask, feeling really disappointed. What could be more perfect than a theme that incorporates both of us? Maybe she thinks the boxing thing is weird for a girl –if so, I should really introduce her to all the women I train at the gym. That would probably give her a heart attack if she is turned off by pink boxing gloves.
She laughs at me. “No, I love it. Okay, the truth is, I came to this store yesterday while you were trying on tux’s with Marty. I saw this, and that’s why I insisted we come here first. I knew you’d see it and totally love it.” She points over at a stuffed kangaroo with a tiara and pink gloves on, “look at this –isn’t it cute? It comes with the set.”
Wow. Brandi has really come around. I thought getting back with her was going to be much more of a struggle, but she’s putting her full heart and trust in me again. It’s almost impossible to believe that she has turned around this much after the way I had been. It’s like none of that ever happened! There are a thousand different places we could have gone today, but she brought me here just because it is probably the one shop on the planet that has an appropriate nursery theme for the daughter of a boxer.
“Oh, and look at this one!” Brandi picks up another stuffed animal. It’s a white, fluffy mouse with a tutu. “I think this theme fits our family perfectly, don’t you think? It’s called Sporty Animal in Pink. She picks up the blanket which is basically a pink blanket with a bunch of over-the-top girly animals playing various sports: the kangaroo boxer, the mouse ballerina, the tiger softball player, the dolphin swimmer, and the elephant mountain biker.
“I totally agree,” I say. We buy the set plus literally any of the stuffed animal add-ons that you can get in addition to the set. I put the kiddie lamp into the cart too because my girl, the kangaroo with the gloves, is the base of the lamp. We grab wall décor, a rug, blankets, and anything else that will go with the theme before heading to the checkout. I have the manager get the white crib, changing table, and dresser from the back, and soon we have pretty much bought up half the store.
I can’t believe how much fun I had doing this. “I can’t wait to get this all set up in the nursery,” Brandi says from the passenger’s seat of my car as I am loading up everything in the back.
This was a good day for us both, but I still can’t help but to think of Laurel. It’s like Laurel has permanently tainted my mind. It’s been two weeks, and she still hasn’t come back to the gym. I wish I had left things better than what I did. I owe her an apology at the very least –maybe that will clear my conscience a little? It bums me out that I can’t spend a day with my wife without something reminding me of Laurel –like a damn kangaroo with pink gloves. I cringe; I hope that my daughter’s nursery won’t be a constant reminder of her. This might have been a bad idea…
I climb into the driver’s seat and look over to see that Brandi is holding the stuffed mouse and kangaroo. “These two are going to be Ambriel’s favorite, you know that, right?”
“Of course,” I say and cringe again to see Brandi hugging the kangaroo that is starting to suspiciously look more and more like Laurel. Why can’t I get her out of my head?
66
I wake up early in the morning to the sound of my phone blaring. Brandi instantly kicks me in the side, warning me that if I don’t answer it quickly she is going to throw a fit. I grab my cell phone and scurry out of the bedroom so that she can try to get back to sleep; she had been up all night nauseous after something we ate disagreed with her pregnancy hormones. “Hello?” I say groggily into the phone as I rub my eyes and make my way down the hallways, intent on making myself some coffee once I get downstairs to the kitchen.
“Hello, is this Jonathan Trial?” a somewhat familiar voice says.
“Yes, can I help you?” I say as I head down the stairwell.
“We need you to come down to the police station for some additional follow up questions in regards to your friend Gabriel’s murder,” the man on the other line says, and I realize it’s Officer Carpenter –the man who pulled me out of the car on the night of Gabe’s murder.
“Officer Carpenter?” I ask even though I am fairly certain.
“Yes, sir,” the man says. “Do you think you could spare an hour?”
“Uh, yeah, of course,” I say. “I’ll be down that way soon.” I hang up the phone, and I suddenly feel sick at the thought of going to talk about that night again. I shake my head; if there is anything I can do to help them catch the creep who did this, I’ll do it, though. I go back up the stairs to get dressed and to let Brandi know I’m leaving the house; I promise her I’ll be back soon, and she drifts right back to sleep. The poor woman is exhausted.
I take the Volkswagen straight to the precinct; Officer Carpenter is waiting for me in the small lobby. The older gentleman leads me to one of the interrogation rooms; I’ve spent a considerable amount of time in this room ever since Gabe had been killed. It’s daunting to say the least. “Coffee?” Officer Carpenter asks me, but I shake my head. I want to get right to business. The man sits down in the chair across from me. “We know who killed Gabriel.”
My jaw hangs open. That was unexpected. The last I heard from them they were still at a loss –all they had found was the guy’s car with the vin numbers carefully scratched off and the tag removed. “Who?” I ask, my voice hoarse. “You told his parents already, right?”
“Of course,” Officer Carpenter says. “They’re well informed. They’re here, actually. This is where things get complicated. The man who killed Gabe is a notorious hitman.”
“A hitman?” I question, and my head starts spinning. A hitman? Who the hell would hire a hitman to kill Gabe?
“We have the man in custody, and we even have a confession. The thing is, he won’t tell us who hired him. He’s claiming he acted on his own, but with his record we know that’s not true. The FBI is going to be taking over this investigation because they think they can connect the guy to several other sanctioned hits across the country. We got him –dipshit hung around too long,” Officer Carpenter opened up a file he had been holding ever since I first arrived. I see the guy’s mugshot, and I feel a surge of anger run through my body to see the bastards face. His dark, brooding eyes stare back at me –and there is a smirk on the son of a bitch’s face. “He’s going to be going away for a long time, if he’s lucky, that is. My bet is he’s going to be on Death Row after his trial, but that’s just me speculating,” Officer Carpenter assured me. “He’s the one who pulled the bullet, but there’s someone else out there who’s really the one responsible. That’s where we need your help.”
“I have no idea who would want to kill Gabe,” I say. “He was just a kid. I mean, everyone loved him. He didn’t, as far as I know, have any enemies.”
“Okay, I lied earlier. This is where things get complicated. Our hitman wasn’t after Gabe, Mr. Trial. He was after you. In fact, the only reason you’re alive is because your hitman thought he already killed you –not Gabe. He thought you were the one in the passenger’s seat of the car that night.”
Officer Carpenter pauses to let this sink in with me. “I’m going to be sick,” I say and push my chair back away from the table where the paperwork is all laid out in front of me.
“Take your time,” Officer Carpenter says to me. I stand up and start pacing –a thousand different thoughts swirling around my h
ead. One thought seems to be the most prominent:
Gabe wasn’t supposed to die.
“Why won’t he tell who hired him?” I finally snap.
“My bet is he’s been paid really well to keep his trap shut. He’s got a hell of a good lawyer, and I’m pretty sure he’s not the one paying for it,” Officer Carpenter says. “He probably has some sort of payment agreement in the event he gets caught. I don’t know what that agreement is exactly, but it is keeping his lips sealed for the time being.”
“What can I do?” I ask.
“Whoever did this was after you,” he says. “Is there anyone you can think of that might want you dead?”
What kind of question is that? Of course there are! I’m a recovering alcoholic asshole. I sit myself back down, and I allow myself to think. Donte is the first name that pops into my head. Then there’s Brandi’s parents –while I’d hate to accuse my former in-laws of something like this, they really hate my fucking guts and have threatened me several times. My ex side chick Vivian is another; she destroyed my Ferrari when I dumped her, so she’s proven to be completely unstable. “Damn, Trial,” Officer Carpenter says when I quickly spat off those names. “That was a little easy for you to do, wasn’t it?”
“We all have a past,” I say.
“If you can think of anyone else, let us know. For now, if you need us, don’t hesitate. For all we know whoever is after you has found another guy. Would you like a police escort home? We can have an officer outside of your house until we identify the culprit,” Officer Carpenter says.
“Am I really in that much danger?” I ask.
“We don’t yet, son,” he says, so I agree to have an officer stay outside of my place at night –but I decline the police escort.
I see Gabe’s parents out in the lobby, so I stop by to see them. They both are teary eyed at the news. “I’m so sorry,” I say to them. “It should have been me. It really should have.”
Filthy Desires: A Romantic Suspense Collection Page 150