“I was a Search And Rescue dog trainer for fifteen years.”
Fletcher appeared suddenly, “You what?”
I looked up, “Yup, I was a damn good one too.” Actually I was the best, but that’s too much information.
“Why didn’t you tell me this?”
“You never asked.”
“I’ve asked, told, you plenty of times to tell me about your past.” He argued.
“Yeah, but you never asked what I used to do for a living. What led me here and what I made a living at are two very different things.” I sipped the coffee so I can look away.
“That explains why you’re stealing my dog.” He complained moving my hair off my shoulder.
“He’s not your dog, he’s your partner, and I’m not stealing him. He simply likes me better than you because I’m nice and you’re… not.” I laughed and looked back up, “Sorry.”
He gave my hair a tug as his uncle laughed and chimed in, “Amen.”
Fletcher lowered to my ear, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Not calling me an asshole in front of my aunt.” He kissed my neck making me giggle.
The guys went back to talking about guns, bears, and who knows what else so I’m alone with his charming aunt once more.
She’s eyeing me suspiciously.
“What?”
“You handle him well.”
I laughed, “Nobody handles Master, you just learn to dance around him.” I put my hand over my mouth for a second then tried to quickly recover. “Pet name?”
She shook her head, “I know better. You hungry?”
“I could eat.” Holy crap I can’t believe I just called him Master in front of his family.
“Why can’t we just do the collar thing at home? I’m so embarrassed.” I asked after he’d loaded a bunch of boxes in the back of the truck and we took our leave. Finally. It takes a lot for someone to unnerve me, but two hours with his aunt and I was ready to pull my hair out.
“Because I won’t live a lie, if people don’t like it they can fuck off. The collar stays on.” He reminded me. Yes I take it off in the shower, and before I go to sleep at night, but not without getting the stink-eye from my Master.
“Do I really have to call you Master in public?”
“Yes. I don’t need people to start using my first name just because I let you get away with it.”
“What do they call you? Besides Trooper Colson.”
“Troop, or Mr. Colson. My aunt is the only one that defies my wises and gets away with it, I think you can see why.”
“You and her are cut from a similar cloth.”
“My twin brother got all my mother’s good qualities, I somehow ended up with my aunts ugly qualities. I don’t know my father well enough to know if we got anything from him other than our size.”
“You have a twin brother??” Obviously we don’t talk very much. I’ve lived with this man for eight months and know almost nothing about him, except that he likes to be left alone, until he doesn’t… or he wants to eat.
“Sawyer. He moved to Phoenix a few years ago. I went with him for the first couple years, but didn’t take to the heat like he did. He’s chasing some little blonde hooker around from what I understand.”
“You’re not close anymore?”
“We’re fine, I just don’t ask too many questions about that part of his life.”
“A hooker huh? Poor guy.”
“Don’t feel sorry for him, he’s bringing about his own demise on that one, and knows it.”
“Do you look the same? I mean, are you identical?”
“Almost, he’s a lighter version. Lighter hair, lighter eyes. We’re built about the same, sound about the same, but he’s a lot nicer than I am.”
I laughed, “That’s not saying much Master.”
“You don’t fix twenty years of pissed off in a few months.” He scolded me like I should know that.
“I’m going to risk that spanking you keep threatening me with, and tell you no matter how mad you are at her for not listening and robbing you of your family, that doesn’t mean it’s fair to take that anger out on me.”
“I’m working on it.”
“I know, I can tell, but it would be nice to want to be here with you if I’m not going to be given a choice. My life has been a fucking nightmare for four years. Four years and seven months to be exact. If shit’s not better by the five year mark, I’m done.”
“What does that mean?” He turned onto the dirt road that leads back to his trailer tucked in the trees.
“It means I’m sick of feeling this way. I’m fed up with being treated like shit, not just by you, but by everyone who has done just that since my father got sick. I’m sick of running. I’m sick of busting my ass at some cash under the table job only to have to find another one and start all over. To be honest Master, I’m just plain done with it all. I’d rather go to prison. At least there I can read something besides fucking repair manuals.”
He put the truck in Park and dropped his forehead to the steering wheel. “Why would you go to prison?”
“Because I’m a murderer, that’s why. At least that’s what the law says. I’m all for upholding the law, but in this case they’re wrong.” I pulled the door handle.
“Stay put, I’ll come get you. Who did you kill?” He sat back looking at me.
I shook my head, “I’ve already told you too much.”
“Was it in self defense?”
“No.” I’m getting nervous now. There’s a good chance he could take me to Fairbanks after all, and right to the police station.
“You need to tell me what happened right now.” He ordered like his usual self.
“No, I don’t. If you’re going to take me in, can I have the one notebook in my bag back?”
“What notebook?”
“My journal. I’d like to burn it first.”
“Why? Is your story in that notebook?”
“If you turn me in that won’t matter, it’s what I wrote about you I’d rather you didn’t see.”
“You realize I have to read it now, right?” He climbed out of the truck and came around to open my door.
I slid out and looked up, “There’s a lock on it.”
“I’m sure it will do it’s best to keep your secrets my dear, but it will fail. Go inside and start dinner while I bring all this shit inside.”
“Do you want some help?” I asked knowing I can carry a few of these boxes easily enough.
“No, if I did I would have told you to help me and not go inside. Now go.” He smacked my butt when I turned to go up the steps to the front door. “How did you kill this person? With a gun?”
I groaned and went inside without answering him. The door is always unlocked even when we’re not home. There’s an old Alaskan tradition that says you don’t deny someone warmth, food, and water even if you can’t be there to help. I asked Fletcher once if that backfired very often. He said no.
He stacked all the boxes in various places around the living room while I got dinner ready. When he was done I fed Arrow his dinner and started setting the table for us.
He sat in his chair at the table to bug me while taking off his boots, “Okay, game over. Tell me who you are, and what you did. And before you say ‘make me’, again, trust that I can, and I will this time. No more empty threats Jasmine. Let’s have it.”
I set the rest of the roast I’d just heated up slowly on the stove in the middle of the table. “You know what? I’m going to go ahead and tell you, but if this backfires, and you get hurt or worse, I’m going to unleash all this pent-up anger I have stored against you and kick your fucking ass.” I looked him right in the eye, “And don’t think for one moment that because I haven’t, that I won’t.”
He raised his eye
brow at me again, “You’ve tried my dear, and failed each time. I always overpower you.”
“Only because I let you.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because you’re a cop, and my only means of survival right now. It would be stupid of me to make you disappear and leave these people without any law, and myself under the microscope.” I turned and went back to the kitchen for the rolls.
“We’ll test your theory another time. I want this story, and I want it now.” He put a large chunk of the roast on his plate and covered it with gravy.
I sat leaving my plate empty for now. “I told you I was a dog trainer, but I didn’t tell you I was also a cop. NYPD for ten years. I took a bullet and a desk job that bored me stupid, so I stepped up the dog training I’d been doing on the side and retired.”
“My father got sick about five years ago with pancreatic cancer. He was so miserable he begged me to put too much morphine in his drip so he could be done with the agony.”
“I refused for a long time. So long he started hating the sight of me. My mother and sisters jumped ship early on. The first year of his cancer was tough, but the last year was brutal. I’d finally had enough and began planning his demise and my escape from the law. I knew they’d figure it out soon enough.” I stopped because he put meat on my plate.
“Take a breath and a couple bites. I know who you are now. I know your story. Faked your death off the back of the yacht you bought your boyfriend.”
“It was my father’s, he wasn’t using it. It didn’t belong to Quinton, still doesn’t.” I clarified poking the meat with my fork.
“Is that who’s after you Karen?” So he does know who I am.
I nodded, “He didn’t buy the whole falling off the back of the boat drunk thing, and since the cops don’t have a body, it’ll be three more years before they can declare me legally dead, and divvy up some of my assets. Some of which go to him. We were engaged and I was changing some things around before shit hit the fan.”
“Take a bite.” I did. “Thank you. How did you come up with the homestead idea?”
I swallowed the small bite, “It wasn’t an idea. Dad told me a year before he died that I was adopted. He left me almost everything in his will since my mother and sisters had abandoned him, but they still got a shit ton of money and assets.” I waved that part off, it always makes me mad. “Anyway, I found the lawyer, he matched my prints and gave me the deed.”
“The deed to my homestead.” He replied absently.
“What did you just say? Your homestead?” Did he just say ‘my homestead’?? I’m ready to kick his ass for real now.
“I didn’t tell you that?” He knows he didn’t.
“I don’t think so, if you did I was out of it. You own that place now?”
“Own isn’t exactly the right word. I’m homesteading it until my kids inherit it, or I die, then it goes back to the state.”
“You have kids??”
“Not yet.” He’s looking at me funny.
“OH NO!! Bull-fucking-shit!!!” I got up and started pacing. “No way. Not gonna happen. Forget it.”
He caught my arm and sat me on his left thigh with my knees between his. “We’ll talk about that later. Finish your story. I knew the Milford’s. They didn’t have any kids.”
“All the lawyer could tell me is that my mom hid the pregnancy and had me down in Anchorage where she gave me up for adoption.”
“Huh. I wonder if my aunt knew about this, they were friends.” He took his phone out and dialed. A moment later I could hear both sides of the conversation.
“Hey Troop, what’s up?”
“Did you know Milly had a daughter?”
“Yeah, she’s living in your house. I thought you knew that.” Agnes replied sounding rushed.
“I knew she was claiming to be their kid, but I thought I knew they didn’t have kids.” Troop replied.
“Oh. Well, guess what? You’re fucking Milly Milford’s daughter. I’m pretty sure her father never knew. There, happy? I got a salmon to get in the smokehouse.”
“I’m not fu… never mind. Go play with your fish you old bat.” He hung up and her and shook his head. “I’ll get the details on that one later when she’s not racing daylight.”
“I’m curious, but don’t rush her. If I’m still here she can tell me in the fall when it starts snowing asshole deep to the Green Giant again.”
“You’ll be here, just not in this damn shoebox. I think I’ll make this my jail. I wonder why Milly never told George about you?”
“I get the feeling he didn’t want to be a father, or he was a drunk and an abuser. I don’t know, but to go through all the trouble of hiding her pregnancy and then try to leave me the homestead? I must have meant something to her. Maybe she thought I’d be better off.” I reasoned. I bet all adopted kids want their biological parents to have a good reason for giving them up.
“He was a drunk, a mean one too. Your suspicions are probably correct. Milly died trying to leave him about ten years ago. She had a heart attack and died behind the wheel. It’s one of our sadder stories up here. Your father died almost five years ago now. He sponsored me to buy his homestead from the state.”
“Why did he help you?”
“Because I kept him out of prison. I’ve wanted that mountain since I was ten years old. Yes my dear, I’m an asshole to everybody, not just you.”
“I don’t see how that makes you an asshole. Not as long as you didn’t let him hurt anyone by staying out of prison.”
“That mountain became his prison. No, he only hurt himself.”
“I guess that’s good. We’re still not having kids. Can you imagine me giving birth up here?? And look how fucking huge you are!! No. Just. No.” I tried to get up but he held my in place.
“That’s what C-sections are for. I want you all to myself for a couple years first, so relax. As far as having kids up here goes, it happens all the time. We can time it so you deliver in the spring or summer.”
He sat back looking me over a little closer, “You don’t look like her. Karen I mean. I like Jasmine better, she’s more real without all that makeup and hair shit.”
“I like the name Jasmine better. As far as the hair and makeup, I kind of miss feeling pretty. If you’d have asked me back then I would have said I hated it, but now,” I shrugged, “I miss it a little.”
“What do you mean you miss feeling pretty?” He’s honestly confused judging by the look on his face. “You’re beautiful.”
I almost fell off his knee.
“Jasmine.” He caught me and reeled me back in. “What was that?”
“I gotta pee.” I broke free and ran to the bathroom so I don’t implode in front of him. I slid down with my back to the door hoping it slows him down while I lose my shit. I hate crying, especially in front of people.
5
“Let me in Jasmine.” He turned the knob but didn’t push too hard on the door.
I slid over knowing he can topple me if wants to.
He knelt and lifted my chin, “What happened?”
“That was the only nice thing you’ve ever said to me. I freaked out.”
He studied me for a moment then took my hand to help me stand up along with him. “You’re beautiful, you’re smart, and you might be just a little bit crazy. All things I find myself liking very much about you Jasmine. Come on, I want you to finish dinner and get to opening some of these boxes. I get the feeling some of the contents might help cheer you up.”
“What’d you do? Buy me a new collar and a longer leash?” I’m kidding, but then again it wouldn’t surprise me.
“That’s not a bad idea.” He helped me back to my seat then took his across from me. “Eat. I keep telling you to gain some weight and I swear you get thinner.” He complained before shoving food in his face.
“I live with a lot of pain and sadness. You let yours out by being… you. I keep mine inside where it rots in my gut making it hard to summon much of an appetite.”
“Doesn’t help you’re always pissed off at me.”
“No, it doesn’t.” I agreed. The fact that he acknowledged this, made me want another bite. Maybe Trooper Colson will come around after all.
“Make you a deal. I’ll try not to be such an asshole, you give having kids with me in a couple years some serious thought. I’d like a second chance at that family, but only if you’re willing to do it with me.”
“Are you trying to give me a stroke tonight??” I put my fork down. “What has gotten into you??”
He kept his eyes on his plate. “It’s important to me that you want to be here as much as I want you to be here.”
I sat back, picked up a carrot and thought long and hard, okay maybe it was only five seconds, and then tossed it right at his nose. Bulls eye. “You Sir, are going to be the death of me! For eight months I feel like nothing more than shit on the bottom of your shoe. Then I find out you lied to me about the roads in order to keep me here?? The whole time you act like you don’t want me here!! Now you’re telling me you want me to be happy enough to want to stay here?? What the fuck Fletcher?? What the fucking fuck??”
I got up and dumped the remaining contents of my plate on his head. When there was nothing left I dumped my glass of water over his head and stormed off to go hang out with his Harley. He better take me for a ride on this thing before I kill him.
He left me alone for a while, probably to clean up the mess I’d left on his head and lap in the wake of my breakdown.
By the time he decided to come find me he brought a tumbler of whiskey as a peace offering. “Feel better?”
“Actually I do.” As soon as I’d dumped my plate on his head I felt better. Yes it was childish, no I don’t care. It felt damn good.
“Why do you always come back here when you get mad at me? You could go to my office, the back patio, the bathroom, but you always come in here. Why?”
“Your office is your office, the patio is cold, and the bathroom is… lonely. I like your bike. She feels alive, like a girlfriend I can talk to, but not. Obviously she can only listen.”
The Ice King On My Hate Page 7