Flawed

by Sara Hubbard

  I take a breath and am distracted for a moment as a man stands over my shoulder and orders a whiskey on the rocks. I wait for him to get his drink and leave before I continue. Then I play with the cap of my beer, spinning it around the wooden counter.

  “Since you’re moving on and all,” he grins, rolling his eyes, “I suppose you don’t care about that brother of hers anymore?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Because if Brent sold Reed out, you got to wonder if Jack would do the same.”

  I make a face. I don’t like where he’s going with this, and yet, it makes complete sense. “That’s assuming he knew Reed was pulling Brent’s strings,” I whisper, just loud enough for Vik to hear over the music Jim just started. A country song.

  “Maybe Reed wouldn’t want to take his chances. Maybe he thinks Brent told his buddy all about their association. Including why Reed was stealing from his father.”

  “Yuri said Jack is safe.”

  “And Reed is definitely looking out for Yuri right now, right?”

  Fuck. He’s right. Just because Yuri agreed to let Jack live, doesn’t mean Reed feels the same. If I was in his situation, I would be looking real hard at the people in my circles who could ruin whatever it is I’m up to.

  “I got to find Jack,” I say, slapping a twenty on the table.

  Vik takes my money and shoves it in my pocket. “Jim owes me a favor.” Then to Jim, “Put it on my tab.”

  20

  NIKO: I left the bar with every intention of walking to Ivy’s and warning her about Reed. Fuck, does this bullshit ever stop? I swear I’m going to have an ulcer if things don’t calm down soon. I’m used to looking out for myself. I had no one else in prison. Not really. Vik is right about not caring, it’s definitely easier. And yet, a nuclear bomb couldn’t stop me from running to Ivy.

  The problem with my plan is that when I start walking, my drink hits me harder than I thought it would. My tolerance for alcohol is now nonexistent. The shit that passed for booze in the joint was strong enough to kill a person, and I didn’t want brain damage.

  Showing up at her door drunk won’t help my cause and I worry she’ll turn me away. So I decide to hitch a ride back to my place where I can shower, drink some coffee and sober up. Only things get blurry and I wake in a ditch. Every inch of my body burns with cold. I didn’t dress for the weather, because I didn’t intend on getting smashed. I intended on driving home, but when I stepped a foot outside the bar, the cold hit me and the alcohol just about slapped my face and brought me to my knees.

  I put my trembling hands on the cold dirt. It’s dark out. A sliver of moon sits in the gray night sky. If I could see right now, I bet my hands would be blue. Another hour and I would have had frostbite. Maybe even lose a finger or two. It would serve me right. I’d probably do it again, though. That’s just me.

  I push to my feet and shove my hands deep in my pockets. My teeth are chattering so loud they’re giving me a headache. I spin around and try to get my bearings, but there’s no use. Both directions look similar, just a stretch of road with trees on either side, like big black walls. Thankfully, there are lights on the telephone poles. At least with their help I can see where I’m treading.

  Left or right? Fuck it. Left, it is. I cough away my cotton mouth. Pray for snow. If there was snow, I’d stick my tongue out and get rid of this nastiness in my mouth.

  A car approaches in the distance. The lights almost blind me. I hold a hand up to block the glare and stick out my thumb. I can’t remember the last time I hitchhiked. It’s not real popular anymore. At least that’s what I hear. You never know who the fuck will pick you up. Although chances are, I’m more dangerous than the poor asshole who gives me a ride.

  The car slows. It’s an old station wagon with racks on the roof without anything on them. There’s a dent in the passenger door, big enough to be an imprint of a large animal or maybe a guy like me.

  I bend at the waist to see into the car and the driver leans over and manually rolls down the window. I recognize the guy, but am having trouble deciding where I know him from. He sighs when he sees my face, so chances are good that he knows exactly who I am.

  “Need a lift?” he asks.

  Well, I have to give him credit. He doesn’t look happy to see my mug, but he’s still polite enough to offer me a ride. And I’m too cold to refuse.

  I have to yank on the door to get it to open. When I’m inside, we sit quietly. Christmas music is on the radio, turned down low. It’s a little early for it, but hey, I don’t hate it. The heat is on and it’s welcome. I hold out my hands over the heater to help them thaw while the air freshener attached to one of the vents blows the scent of cedar in my face. The clock reads seven am. Fuck, I was out there almost all night. I can only hope nothing bad happened while I was passed out.

  From my peripheral, I check out the driver as the dome light starts to fade into darkness. Older guy. Non-descript features. Big cheeks and loose skin around his neck. He’s wearing a cardigan with a thick jacket over the top and a knitted scarf, the kind a grandmother makes for their grandkids.

  “Thanks,” I say as he pulls away. “I’m pretty sure I was on my way to freezing to death.”

  “Where are you headed?”

  Although I’d planned on going to the cabin, it’s morning and my head is clear so there’s no reason not to head to Ivy’s. “Cowen Street. The barbershop.”

  “Mmhmm.”

  His acknowledgement is like a growl. From my peripheral, I swear I see him roll his eyes.

  “Ivy Parker’s place?” he asks. He somehow manages to say this while sighing. That’s talent. Practiced annoyance. “Or are you going there to take care of that mop you got growing on your head?”

  Is this guy for real? Mechanically, I turn my head to face him, though the self-conscious part of me runs a hand through my hair to smooth it back. I take a closer look at his face and come up empty. I’ve been away too long.

  “I know you,” I say. “Where do I know you from?”

  “I own Main Street Diner.”

  I sink a little in my seat. If Ivy’s talked about me at all, he might be ready to sacrifice himself and drive us off a bridge. But he doesn’t go there. At least now I know why he looked at me with disdain when I bent down to look into his car.

  He grumbles something under his breath, and then surprises me by offering me a breath mint. “You smell like the ass end of a beer bottle. Don’t imagine it would impress Ivy all that much.”

  I want to be irritated, but I’m not. I chuckle lightly instead. I’d rather him be direct than slam me in his head.

  “Your sister used to work for me,” he adds. “You remember?”

  I nod, a slight piercing sensation building in my chest. I’d almost forgot about that. “She was young then. Uncle Yuri didn’t want her working. Said she was too young and no one would hire her. No one but you.”

  He shrugs. “I’m not a man to succumb to threats.”

  “I respect that. Most men have a price.”

  “Not this guy.” We drive in silence for a moment. The trees pass us by. It’s not long before houses appear, spread out by miles. “I’m sorry about your sister. She was really special.”

  I sit up a little straighter and feel the tension building in my body. If I wasn’t so damn cold, I’d be hot right now. Henry’s practically a stranger and I’m not about to talk with him about private stuff.

  “A lot of people were horrified about what happened to her,” Henry says. “And then horrified about what you did in turn.”

  I sigh, and seriously debate asking him to pull over. I’m tired and hung over and worried about Ivy and I don’t have the patience to dodge questions about my sister, or be judged for my choices.

  “I wasn’t horrified, though. I would have done the same. Said it back then and I’ll say it now. If I had a daughter and someone hurt my little girl like that man hurt your sister, I would have done exactly what you did.”

&nbs
p; He’s the second person to tell me they understood what I did to Darren Black. He’s the second stranger I’ve met who doesn’t think I’m a monster. It gives me a little peace. I would do it again if I was in the same situation and part of me has always thought I’m damned for that. Now I wonder if right or wrong is so black and white.

  I swallow hard as I stare straight ahead. There is so much emotion in his voice I wonder if he knows my pain. If maybe someone badly hurt someone he cared about, too. It softens me to him a little. I also remember how much Claire liked Henry Goff. That’s his name. It comes back to me in a flash. She used to say if she had a granddad, she’d want him to be exactly like Henry. Vik and I would laugh at her. The only granddaddy we knew smoked weed and had a beard so long he could trip over it. My dad used to take us to visit him on holidays—always without my mother, because she loathed him. He lived on a few acres with a small ranch house in the center. The grass was never cut when we arrived and my dad would cut it while we sat with my granddad. He’d drink and swear and tells us stories much too old for us. Vik would listen intently and I would count the seconds until we left. We never did visit him again after Dad went to jail. I’m not even sure if he’s still alive.

  “How does it feel to be back? Is it different?” Henry asks.

  “Yes and no. People are the same. Just a little older. But a lot of people in this town don’t have much time for me.”

  His face tightens as he tilts his head toward me. “People in this town spend too much time gossiping.”

  “Amen to that.”

  A mixture of rain and snow falls onto the windshield and he turns on his wipers. The slow steady swooshing relaxes me. I’ve almost stopped shivering. “Can’t get a job to save my life. Where does that leave me?”

  He eyes me for a moment. “I could use the help.”

  Is he messing with me? I want to say I’m all yours. Tell me when I start. But then I remember Ivy. She’ll think I did this on purpose. To be near her. No way will she think this was by chance.

  “The diner not your style?” he says.

  “No, it’s not that. I would love to say yes, but I’m not sure how Ivy would feel about that with things being the way they are. I’m not sure if she wants to see me again, period, let alone spend hours at work with me.”

  He turns the heat down a notch. “Why not?”

  “Things between us are…”—I search for the right word—“complicated.”

  He slows down to a crawl before pulling over outside the barbershop. I stay in my seat, trying to work through what’s happening.

  Not only did he give me a lift, he’s offered me a job. In my life, most people have ignored me or assumed I’m nothing because of my last name. My uncle is tolerated because he’s scary. But the rest of us, we’ve always been aware that people consider us second-class citizens. People don’t go out of their way for me. And they certainly don’t show me kindness. All I’ve witnessed is contempt. Except for Ivy. And now this old man with a scowl on his face.

  “She’ll get over it,” he says.

  “I’m not so sure.”

  “You let me worry about that. You get yourself cleaned up today. Take a shower and brush your goddamn teeth. Come and see me in a few days if you’re interested. If no, then…I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

  He raises a single eyebrow and I nod. He’s not talking about work. We both know he’s talking about Ivy. If he knew me at all, he wouldn’t say that. He’d already know I’ve found what I’m looking for. And I can’t imagine ever wanting anything or anyone more.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  He shrugs.

  “Why would you give me a chance? We’ve never even directly met before.”

  “I liked Claire. And if you’re related to her you can’t be all that bad, right?”

  I laugh. “I’m also related to Yuri Kosh.” I probably shouldn’t say this, but somehow it seems fitting considering he’s being kind.

  “No one is perfect,” he says.

  “Me especially.”

  “Well, now’s your chance to prove everyone wrong. And trust me when I say that little ‘fuck you’ is the best medicine for a man trying to prove himself.”

  He hands me some more mints and I pop them in my mouth. As I get out of the car, he turns up his Christmas music. It’s still audible after I’ve shut the door and the song stays in my head while I trudge to her door.

  21

  IVY: My alarm screams at me and I jolt up in bed. My eyes go wide at the time. When I squint at the numbers, I see the snooze icon lit up on the right. How could I have snoozed my alarm and not remember? But the answer is obvious. I’ve had so much trouble sleeping since Jack got arrested. I toss and turn and wake up from nightmares and can’t go back to sleep.

  If I don’t hurry, I’m going to be late.

  I don’t have time to shower today. Instead, I just throw my hair up in a bun and pull on what’s clean. My clothes don’t match—more so than usual. Henry will certainly raise his eyebrows at my choice of floral leggings and a rock star, long-sleeved shirt. I pop some toast in the toaster and rush into the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face. On my way to the door, I scoot back into the kitchen and grab the dry toast. It’s like chewing Styrofoam, but calories are calories. Getting to work on time is near impossible, but I’m determined.

  When I yank open the door I almost plow through Niko. I gasp and almost fall back on my ass, but Niko’s hands jut out to grab my arms, saving me. I smile up at him, happy to be reminded of the time when we first met. When I literally fell out of a tree and into his arms. We straighten up and his hands slowly release me. His eyes are reddened and he gives me a sad smile. My memory stops at him brushing tears from my eyes as I cried over a cheating boyfriend and I’m back in reality. To the mess of Jack and Yuri and Brent.

  “Niko,” I say softly. “What are you doing here?”

  He opens his mouth, but I interrupt before he can get a word out. “I’m going to be late. We need to talk; I know that. But can it wait?” I bite my lip, glance back at my watch.

  He rings a hand around the back of his neck and bites the inside of his cheek. “No, Ive. It can’t.”

  I can’t take more bad news. I’m barely hanging on as it is. But I can’t turn him away and honestly, I don’t want to. It seems important. And he’s here and I’ve had such a hard time getting up the courage to reach out to him. “Walk me to my car?”

  “I can do that.”

  I start forward and he takes a step back. I lock the door and hurry down the stairs. Niko matches my pace. When we get to the lot, I look around but don’t see his car anywhere. “Where’s your truck?”

  He coughs and then clears his throat. “I left it at the tavern.”

  “Oh.” He never drank all that much before, so it surprises me that he drank enough that he couldn’t drive. But I’m happy he didn’t get behind the wheel. When he left yesterday, he was noticeably upset—rightly so. I’ve been trying to work through what happened. I worry that him drinking is how he’s coping, and it’s not healthy. I shouldn’t have let him leave. Like me, he’s basically alone. Vik is his brother, but he’s never really been a great sounding board or one to give helpful advice.

  “Are you okay?” I stop and chew my lip while I wait for his reply.

  He shrugs. “Of course. Don’t worry about me.”

  “Niko, don’t do that. Don’t pretend like you’re fine if you’re not.”

  He clears his throat and scuffs his feet in the dirt. There is so much I want to say. I can’t leave things like they were. If only I had more time this morning.

  “Come on,” I say. “You can tell me all about it in the car.”

  He nods. I get into my car and reach over to unlock his door. He’s still pulling the seat belt across his lap while I’m accelerating out of the lot and hurrying down Cowen. “What’s going on?” I ask him since he continues to sit silently.

  “We have another problem.”<
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  I take a deep breath. “Niko, I don’t know how much more of this I can take. Will this ever be over?” Without meaning to, my foot eases off. I’m late anyway. What’s another five minutes? It just doesn’t seem as important to me anymore. No matter how much I don’t want to disappoint Henry.

  “It turns out Jack might have more enemies than I thought.”

  I snap my head over in his direction, my bottom lip trembling when I say, “What do you mean?”

  Seconds pass and they seem like minutes. Why won’t he just spit it out? It has to be bad.

  “Turns out Brent wasn’t just randomly stealing shit. Someone was in his ear, telling him where to hit.”

  I try and process what he’s saying, but I don’t understand the full implications and I roll my hand through the air to get him to explain. “Who? And why is this important?”

  He groans, runs his hands through his messy hair. Why is he stalling? “Stop editing what you say to me. Just tell me everything or don’t tell me at all. You can’t know how frustrating it is! To be in the dark about all this. I’m worried sick about Jack and you holding back only makes it worse. Please, Niko. I’m in this whether you want me to be or not. Just tell me the truth.”

  “Okay.”

  I open my mouth and glance at him, surprised that he’s finally given in, but worrying that it can only mean one thing. Things are worse than I thought.

  “The man ordering the thefts is family, and he wasn’t doing it with Yuri’s knowledge.”

  “So he was stealing from your uncle?”