by JD Nixon
“Do I know you?” she demanded from me, staring at me as if I’d gate-crashed.
“I’m a friend of Will’s,” I smiled disarmingly at her. She wasn’t disarmed and turned her eyes to Trent. The change that swept over her was extraordinary.
“Oh, my God, Trent Dawson! I’m your biggest fan! Oh, my God! I can’t believe that you’re here at my nephew’s wedding. Do not leave tonight until you have given me your autograph. I insist. Now you better get inside the church. The bride’s about to arrive.”
We took a seat in one of the pews, watching in smothered amusement as the woman ordered people around with all the tact and diplomacy of an army sergeant.
“I think you had a lucky escape from that family, Tilly,” Trent whispered to me.
I nodded. “I bet she’d let you feel her boobs tonight,” I whispered back.
He spluttered loudly, attracting attention, and dextrously turned it into a throat clearing. We smiled at each other. I looked up to see Will staring at us dourly, waiting at the front of the church for his bride to arrive. A burst of shrieking organ music that made us all jump with fright signalled that the bride was on her way. We stood respectfully and turned to the entrance. The taffeta and lace wedding dress Penny had chosen only enhanced her baby bump, making her appear as if she was nearly due instead of the five months pregnant she actually was. I’ve never understood why people in her situation just didn’t wait until after the baby was born to marry, but then remembered her religious family. She must have wanted to be a married woman before she gave birth.
The ceremony was over quickly. Before I was even able to determine which of my emotions was dominant, Will was married and any residual dreams I harboured about him were killed for good. As he kissed the bride, I suddenly became aware that I grasped Trent’s hand in a death-grip. He wore a pained expression, but bravely endured. I let go and mouthed “sorry” to him.
The photographer rushed the newlyweds away for their photo shoot. I imagined their wedding album would consist of mostly headshots. Trent and I followed the crowd and trooped off to the reception at the adjacent church hall, heading straight for the champagne. After I’d scoffed a few glasses and as many of the circulating nibblies I could politely shovel in my mouth, Mr and Mrs Armstrong made their triumphant appearance. Speeches were made, toasts given, the cake cut, and then the festivities began in earnest. As I’d predicted, after guests had consumed a few drinks, Trent was swamped by the curious, the celebrity worshipping and maybe even a few genuine fans. Aunty Army Sergeant led the charge. I made small talk with some of Will’s teaching colleagues while Trent signed autographs and answered impolite questions about his love life and career.
“Well, it’s done now,” said a dry voice behind me and I turned to find Will. I raised my champagne glass to him and smiled with as much goodwill as I could muster.
“Congratulations, Will. Penny looks . . . radiant. I wish you every happiness together.”
“What’s going on with you and that man you’ve brought along?”
“It’s none of your business.”
He clutched my arm firmly and hissed at me. “It is my business, Tilly. I want to know who you’re screwing.”
“Let go of me! People might be watching. It’s your wedding, for God’s sake. Go back to your wife.”
He looked around cautiously, loosened his grip on my arm and forced a smile on his face. “Once again, thanks so much for coming, Tilly. It’s lovely to see you again.” And he kissed me on my cheek.
“Thanks for inviting me, Will. But I don’t want to hold you up. I’m sure you have a lot of people to talk to.” And I turned away, pushed my way through the crowd around Trent and dragged him by the hand to the dance floor, ignoring the protests of his little band of groupies.
“Altercation with the ex?”
“Was it that noticeable?”
“Only if you were watching.” I glanced around over his shoulder as we danced and caught Penny staring at me with a puzzled expression on her face. I really hoped she hadn’t been watching. I wouldn’t want her special day to be ruined by anything her cheating new husband did.
Trent and I spent the rest of the evening dancing together, which at least had the benefit of staving off the persistent attentions of Aunty Army Sergeant.
“I’ve had enough of this wedding, Tilly. We have to get out of here.”
“I agree.”
Fortunately for us, the bride and groom started making their farewells at that point. I gave both Penny and Will a warm kiss on the cheek when they finally reached Trent and me, and congratulated them once more.
“I can’t wait to see you again. Have you made up your mind yet?” Will whispered quickly in my ear, before moving on to the next couple. And the thought of a man lusting after another woman at his own wedding turned my stomach. I was ashamed all over again at how I’d behaved that day with him. Nothing I could do would ever make up for that, but at least I could ensure that I didn’t compound my error by repeating it. I wouldn’t see Will again.
After about thirty minutes the happy couple finally left, quickly followed by us. Trent hadn’t drunk very much during the evening, so we headed back to his car, which was parked a fair distance away. The streets had been crowded when we arrived in the late afternoon, but were now deserted in the dark evening, the clack of my high heels echoing on the footpath.
He’d been forced to park down a small laneway between businesses that had now closed for the evening. He clicked on his remote key to open the car, the flashing indicators silhouetting a bulky shadow that stepped out in front of us. I shrieked in fright and Trent clutched me harder around the waist. The sweeping beams of a distant car turning illuminated the laneway for a brief moment and we both recognised who was standing in front of us.
Beyrer.
Chapter 26
Oh hell! I didn’t kid myself for a second that he’d waited in the dark to have a friendly chat with us. We were in trouble, serious trouble. We were also at a complete disadvantage, taken by surprise. Think! I urged myself. What weapons did we have? Nothing except for Trent’s car key and a small canister of capsicum spray in my handbag. I slowly slipped my hand down towards the clasp of my bag. It was dark enough that I was able to do it without him noticing.
Beyrer stalked around us, brandishing an evil long-bladed knife and gloating at our fear. “I’ve been following you fuckers for days, waiting and waiting for my chance.”
He jabbed the knife at Trent, and from the way Trent flinched, I think he might have nicked him. It was hard to tell in the dark.
“You!” he sneered. “Mr Bigshot TV Star! Think you can just ruin a man’s life by getting him fired.”
He turned the knife in my direction, jabbing it towards me as I raised my hand from my bag with the capsicum spray. I pumped the canister in fury, but only a weak squirt came out. Shit! It was empty. I must have picked up an old canister by mistake from my dressing table. Why wasn’t I tidier, I reproached myself uselessly. I redoubled my pumping effort and managed to get a feeble spurt of the painful spray into Beyrer’s eyes, not enough to disable him in any way, but just enough to really piss him off.
“Run to the car, Trent!” I screamed while Beyrer was momentarily distracted rubbing his eyes. He didn’t argue, but took off at lightning speed, sprinting to the sanctuary of his car. I promptly followed him. But affected by alcohol, I struggled to run in my high heels, wobbling perilously, in danger of breaking an ankle in the dark laneway. The spray didn’t diminish Beyrer’s reflexes and he was hot on my heels.
Trent made it safely to the car, but I didn’t. Beyrer grasped a handful of my hair and jerked on it angrily, pulling me backwards to the ground. I landed heavily on my butt, cursing myself. Impatiently, I pulled off my high heels and threw them at Beyrer as he barged towards the car, hoping that Trent had remembered to lock the doors.
The stiletto heel of one of my shoes hit Beyrer in the side of the head. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t appreciate
that. He turned around to me, then back to Trent, his tiny brain wrestling with the important decision about which one of us to maim and kill first. The ache in his head obviously swayed him towards me, and he ran back to me, faster than I would have expected for a man of his size. He kicked out, his gigantic steel-capped boot connecting with my hip viciously.
“It’s all your fault!” he yelled, swinging at me over and over with his boot. I scrabbled frantically out the way, somehow dodging most of his brutal kicks. “You think you’re hot shit, a real know-it-all, just because you’re fucking the boss! You’re a slut! You’re nothing! I was ten times the security officer you’ll ever be, you dumb bitch!” He pulled out his knife again.
Trent flooded the lane with his car lights and honked the horn in an attempt to distract Beyrer from trying to kick me to death. It did the trick in gaining his attention. He sheathed his knife, left me and set off towards the car again. Despite a few choice screaming body parts, I didn’t waste any time in hauling myself to my feet, looking around desperately for some kind of weapon. I reached in my handbag for my phone and dialled Heller’s number with trembling fingers, while Beyrer pounded on the windows of the car with his huge fists. I could see Trent on his phone as well, hopefully calling the police.
“Matilda? You want to come home?”
“Heller! It’s Beyrer! He’s attacking us. He has a knife. I have no weapons –” I dropped the phone in fright as Beyrer smashed in the windscreen of the car with a discarded steel rod he’d found in the junk pile dumped in the lane. Cursing, I dropped to my knees and felt around on the ground in the dark, my hands eventually closing over it. The screen had cracked, but it still seemed to be working.
“Matilda! Matilda?” Heller’s anxious voice spoke out.
“Shit! He’s smashing the windows!” I half-sobbed. “Come and help us! Please!”
I gave him the best directions I could, not really familiar with this part of the city and hung up. We were on the other side of the city to the Warehouse, and it would take Heller forever to arrive. Hopefully he had some men working over on this side who could come to our assistance faster than him.
Beyrer moved to a side window of the car, smashing it to pieces. I watched with helplessness as he reached in to open the door, dragging a terrified Trent out, his keys and phone dropping to the road. Beyrer held him with one hand while he punched him repeatedly in the face with the other until Trent slumped over, blood pouring from his nose and mouth.
I searched frantically on the ground for some kind of weapon, with only the beaming headlights from Trent’s car to see by. Barefoot, I stumbled around the dirty littered laneway, treading on broken glass. There was nothing but illegally dumped household junk lying everywhere. Despairing and bereft of other options, I picked up an old discarded VCR player and ran over to Beyrer, smashing it on his head as hard as I could manage.
It achieved nothing except making Beyrer drop Trent unceremoniously to the ground, where he lay in a limp heap, and return his attention to me. He unsheathed his knife and with a wicked smile playing on his fleshy lips, held it out teasingly in front of him, jabbing out at me, laughing when I jumped back, afraid. I’d been slashed before while working for Heller and wasn’t keen to repeat the experience. The last thing I needed was more scars on my body. As he thrust the knife at me again, I noticed the raw, blistered, peeling skin on his right forearm where I’d previously seen his Heller’s tattoo.
“Lost your tattoo, I see? Heller sorted you out, did he?” I taunted him.
“Bitch! I didn’t deserve that. It was my whole life working there. Especially after my whore of a wife left me. You made me lose everything. You turned Heller against me.” He dived at me, his eyes mad with anger. If I hadn’t twisted my body away, he would have plunged that knife into my collarbone, hard enough to strike bone.
All my instincts screamed at me to charge Beyrer, but I knew from my other battle with him that it would be a fruitless exercise. Instead I did something he wouldn’t expect, and I turned and fled from him. He pounded after me, but I powered on, wincing at every rock and piece of glass strewn in the laneway that my bare feet encountered. I wasn’t going to be able to walk tomorrow.
I reached the main street and threw my head wildly one way and the next, trying to determine the best way to go. I chose left because I could see some people walking towards me. I hobbled to them waving my arms, Beyrer close behind. As I came nearer, I begged them for help.
“That man is going to kill me. Please help me,” I pleaded with them. They shrank back in fear, their eyes on Beyrer’s furious face and bulging muscles. They scurried across the road at a trot, leaving me alone on the other side. I couldn’t believe it. They weren’t going to help me.
“Please!” I shouted. “At least call the police for me. He’s going to kill me and my friend.” Beyrer grabbed me by my arm and roughly dragged me back to the laneway. I screamed all the way, clutching desperately at anything I bumped into. What was the matter with this world? I thought. Trent and I were going to die and nobody could care less.
Beyrer hauled me back to the car, kicking Trent’s unconscious body aside as he did. If I hadn’t been terrified for my own life, I would have wept for Trent’s. Beyrer leaned inside the car and unlocked the back door, pushing me down onto the back seat, reaching for his pants zipper. No way! I thought to myself, and wriggled towards the other door, unlocking it and throwing it open, attempting to crawl out. Beyrer grabbed me by an ankle and yanked me backwards. I kicked out until I shook my foot free from his grasp, and took the opportunity to scramble out of the other door. Breathing heavily, I stood and faced him, the car between us.
“Don’t try to run from me, bitch. I’m going to teach you to respect the men in your life. Heller should have sorted this shit out before with you. He’ll value what I’m doing here. I mean, look at you. You’re screwing Heller, but you’re running around with this other man. You’re just like my wife – nothing more than a whore. A fucking alley cat on heat! You need to learn how to respect men. You had no respect for me, ordering me around like you were my boss. But guess what? I don’t take orders from bitches.” He was hyped up, his speech scattergun, the words tripping out too fast, his head darting around. He was obviously on something.
“You don’t deserve any respect,” I spat out, finding safety in the car-width distance between us. “You’re nothing but a poor excuse for a man. What are you using? Cocaine? Ice? Your wife left you for a better man. I don’t even know who he is, I just know he’s a better man than you, because any man is a better man than you.”
“Bitch, you’ve got a mouth on you that’s going to get you killed,” he uttered, teeth gritted tightly. But instead of attempting to attack me again, he returned to the slumped, prone Trent.
“Think you’re tough, hey bitch? What about him? He’s not tough, is he? He’s soft. You going to come around this side and help him? Huh? Bitch? Are you?” And he picked up Trent’s head by the hair and maliciously dropped it again onto the bitumen. He picked it up and dropped it again. I could hear Trent’s head smashing on the ground. “I could do this all night, bitch. What about you? You going to come over here or will I keep doing this?” He smashed Trent’s head a third time. A tide of hatred for him swept over me.
“Put him down. Leave him alone,” I said in a low, angry tone.
“Don’t you tell me what to do. A bitch needs to know her place, which is wherever her man tells her to be. A bitch doesn’t think for herself. That’s a man’s job. I’m surprised Heller hasn’t sorted out this shit with you sooner.”
I had to lure him away from poor Trent before he further hurt him. “Well, come and get me, if that’s what you want. Or are you too afraid?”
He actually spat on the ground in contempt. “Afraid of a pussy like you?” And although it did the trick in redirecting his attention from Trent, I now had the very pressing problem of a huge, doped-up man heading towards me with violently carnal intentions. Hurry up, Heller!
With every step that he took approaching me, I took a cautious matching step backwards. After five or six steps, with Beyrer closing in on me, my feet touched something hard and thin. I ran my toe up its length trying to identify if it could be useful to me or not. It felt like a metal pole and I remembered with carefully suppressed excitement the steel rod Beyrer had used to smash the car windows.
I pretended to stumble, quickly reaching to the ground, seizing the rod and swinging it up with both arms, smashing him across the side of the head. It impacted with a nauseating crunching sound, jarring my arm right down to the shoulder, but not knocking him out. Dazed fury raged across his face and he rushed towards me, causing me stumble backwards for real. We tussled frantically over the rod for a moment, but it was an uneven battle. His superior strength soon triumphed and he wrenched the rod from my hands, raising it and bringing it down hard towards my head. I raised my arms in protective terror and the bar smashed across my forearms. Pain shot up to my shoulders. Too afraid to turn and run in case he whacked me on my skull with the bar, I backed up as fast as possible. I kept my injured limbs up in the air to take another strike if necessary.
Light flooded the laneway and a vehicle pulled up at the entrance. While Beyrer stood stunned by the sudden brightness, I took the opportunity to flee towards the new arrivals. I didn’t care if it was Heller, his men, the cops, the garbage men or an ice-cream van, it might be someone willing to help me. Beyrer charged after me brandishing the rod, bringing it down hard. He just missed my skull, but hit me on the side of the neck. Oh God, that hurt! I was lucky that he didn’t break my collarbone.
A warning shot rang in the night air. I recognised the much-loved silhouette of Heller striding our way, the gun in his hands pointed at Beyrer’s head. Clive stepped out of the passenger seat, gun also out.
Beyrer stopped in his tracks at the sound. As he did, Farrell jumped from the back seat, rushed over to me and ushered me to the safety of the Mercedes. I huddled against him in shock, cradling my sore arms.