by Scott, S. L.
“That’s good. I’m glad,” he replies with his hands in his pockets. “But why are you telling me this?”
“Because if anything ever happens to me, I don’t want you wondering if I made the right choice. There are no other choices. There’s only him for me, and now this baby.” I release a breath. “I’m leaving.”
“I figured.” He looks out the dust-covered windows. “A motel’s no place to raise a kid.”
“Neither is a manor.”
“Huh?”
“Nothing.”
When he looks back to me, a small grin shows up. There’s also a sense of relief found in his expression. “I’m happy you’re happy. I wish we could all be so sure of ourselves.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I think I’ll stick around a while longer. There’s this new waitress down at Growly’s.”
I laugh, albeit lightly. “Good luck, Jason.”
“Have a great life, Alice.”
Turning to leave, I pause to soak in his words. When I look at him again, the words come so readily and with ease, “I will.” I push open the door, the chime I’ve become so familiar with rings one last time, and I turn back. “I hope you find your own happiness one day.”
He chuckles. “You and me both.”
Nothing more is needed, so I walk away and cross over to the diner for one last goodbye and maybe something to eat on the road. Della meets me at the door with a big hug and congratulatory greetings. “How did you know?” I ask while we walk to the end of the counter.
“Eh, I’m an old hand at this. Did you come to say goodbye?”
“I did. I’m sorry I’m leaving you one waitress down.”
“Don’t be. You’ve got more important things on your mind than the pie of the day. I’ll miss you, but I can see by the look in your eyes that this is right.”
“I feel it in my bones.”
“Well, let’s not drag this out. I’m sure you want to get to wherever you’re going before dark.” She grabs a sandwich from a plate ready to go out to a customer and wraps it in foil. On the way to the back, she calls out for the order to be replaced by the cook. I laugh, knowing I’ll miss her spunkiness. When she returns, she hands me a bag. “I’ve stuck a piece of your favorite pie in there too. Put on some weight for that baby.”
I don’t take the bag. I hug her first, hard. “Thank you for giving me a job and for everything else.”
“You’re welcome, honey. Now go get that man I keep hearing caused quite the commotion when he was here.” Uproar. Yep, that would be Alexander all right.
“Take care, Della.”
“You too, Alice.” She winks and hands me the bag. They all know it’s not my name, but not one of them ever said any different. While walking to the car, I look both ways across the empty highway and breathe deeply, my lungs and mind finding peace at last. I’ve never regretted being here. I needed this place. I needed these people. The angry waters that raged inside me are calmer because of it, because of them. The good in these people will stay with me long after I’ve gone.
A smile full of pride. I did it. I stood on my own two feet for the first time. I put myself first and found what I’m really made of. I am strong. It’s not a mantra. It’s the truth. My smile grows when I realize what I can do once I’m home and have everything I already need and more at my disposal.
I’m ready to go home.
I’m ready to take my throne.
I’m ready to be queen to Alexander’s king.
27
Sara Jane
The drive is dragging. Two hours in, and I’m too anxious to be patient. A million emotions have played through my head. No matter how the reunion with Alexander plays out, I always come back to the fact that he wants me. He has made himself clear for what feels like my whole life. And I know he’ll want this baby. Our love made something bigger than us, bigger than any of our problems or bad dreams. This baby is a brand new beginning for us, one that will come with a life full of love, laughter, and happiness.
Thirty minutes until I see him. I try to decide if I should go to the penthouse or the manor. With no phone, I can’t call to find out where Alexander is. My body shivers with giddiness I’m so excited to see him, to tell him everything.
Releasing the fears that have been dragging me down, I take the exit that leads to the manor. New beginnings. Checking my appearance in the rearview mirror, I’m briefly distracted by a blue sedan tailgating me. I pull to the side, straddling the line to allow the car to overtake me on this two-lane road. When the car passes, I look over. Hate-filled eyes stare back, and I slam on my brakes in response, alarms ringing in my ears. Red flags are raised along with the hairs on my arm. I slowly pull back into the lane and keep my distance as the other car speeds ahead.
Kingwood Manor isn’t much farther, and I take a deep breath to pull myself together again. My excitement builds easily just thinking about seeing Alexander again. When I round a bend, I smile. Then I’m slamming on my brakes to avoid hitting the blue car, the road becoming a blur as I swerve off the road into a clearing. I jolt to a stop in shock as my belt tightens against my chest. I gasp and shift the car into park before tugging at the seatbelt to loosen it from hurting the baby. When it won’t, I unbuckle it and start to pull at it again to reset the lock mechanism, but freeze with my hand in the air.
On the other side of my window stands the man with vengeance set in his eyes, holding a gun aimed straight at me. Reflexively, I duck down, frantically searching for anything I can use as a weapon. I have nothing. Nothing. Shit. I find an umbrella under my seat, but that won’t save me. Keys. I take the keys and tuck them into my pocket.
My door is opened, and he’s grabbing me by the shirt and yelling at me, “Get out! Get out, bitch!”
I’m yanked from the car, not able to stop my eyes from filling with tears. “Okay. Okay.” I put my hands in front of me, hoping it calms him enough to lower his gun. “Please don’t hurt me. You can take the car. I don’t have much cash.” He uses the gun to signal where he wants me. I move quickly to the back of the car, holding my head up. My ribs ache from trying to cage my raging heart. Panic takes over and I begin to cry, pleading, “Please don’t hurt me. Please. My cash is in the glove compartment.”
“I don’t want your money.”
“What do you want?”
“I didn’t want to hurt you.”
I look up, hoping the hate is gone from his dark eyes. “You can take the car—” Wait . . . didn’t. Past tense. The words stuck to the back of my throat. He didn’t want to hurt me.
He’s going to hurt me.
He growls, his lips rising into a snarl. “This is payback. I got fucked, so you get fucked.”
“What? No. Please. I think there’s been a mistake.”
His eyes are crazed, glassy and hollow, and I wonder if he even has a soul. “No mistake. We had a deal. Your boyfriend apparently finds it good business to destroy people’s lives, so I’m going to destroy his world.” My thoughts are racing, trying to grab hold of something that makes any sense. Getting right up in my face, he adds, “Kingwood is going to burn in the pits of hell for fucking me over. No one fucks me over and lives to tell the story.”
Kingwood.
A sinking feeling starts spinning in my stomach, picking up speed. “Please. Please. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Surely it was a misunderstanding. He killed himself. I was never his girlfriend. He shot himself.”
“Shut up! I’m talking about your boyfriend, not his father. We had a deal with the old man. He was good to us, knew when to pay up. His son needs to learn a hard lesson.”
So close. I’m so close to returning to my heart and soul. Oh God, if you can hear me, please help me make it home. Please. “We can clear this up. We . . . we can clear this up. One phone call. That’s all I need. Please. Please. Please.”
“You fuck scum, which makes you scum. Why should I trust you? You’re just another spoiled rich bitch.”
“No. No. I’m not rich, but I can help you. I promise. Please. One phone call.”
The handle of his gun slams against my cheek. I drop to the ground, landing on my hands and knees. Pain scorches through me as I watch blood drip from my nose and bleed into the dirt.
From above me, he kicks my foot. “Make the call, and you better be convincing. I want him or the money or you won’t see the sun set.” He drags me to my feet by my elbow. My legs shake under the pain, my hand shaking from terror.
I am strong.
I swallow the blood that coats my lip and glance up long enough to memorize his face. I’ve seen him—at Kingwood Manor—at the party, watching Alexander and me when we went upstairs. I remember him. Sweating, nervous, staring.
He will pay for this. Alexander will make sure of it. The phone appears in front of me and I look down at the screen. On the screen, there’s a photo of a woman—mid-forties, maybe slightly older. Pretty. Too pretty for him. This is my chance, my only chance to save myself. Blowing out a breath, I take the phone and dial Alexander’s number.
One ring.
Two rings.
I swallow. Closing my eyes, I will him to answer.
Three rings.
“He’s not answering.”
“You’re a dead bitch if he doesn’t.” He starts pacing, keeping the gun locked on me—his target.
Four rings.
Answer. Please answer, Alexander, I pray.
Five rings.
All my hopes of survival vanish as soon as my call is sent to voicemail. My grip loosens, the phone almost falling. When I look up, I can barely swallow, my throat too dry. Then it occurs to me, and I try one last tactic. “He won’t answer your call. You said yourself that he won’t do business with you.”
“And?”
Hope lives on when he shows interest in my line of thinking. Dropping another breadcrumb down for him, I say, “I need to make another call.”
“Fuck that. No. Get to your knees.”
“No. Please. I can call a friend. He’ll get Alexander for me. He’ll take my call.”
He stares at me, his own twisted hope coming out to play when his pocked cheek rises in a happy sneer. Sweat beads on his forehead, and he wipes it away with his hand. “Fine. One more call. You better pray to whatever god you believe in that you get hold of him.”
Without the number handy, I struggle to remember Shelly’s number, but I dial, taking the chance.
One ring.
The call is answered. Thank God! “Hello?”
One chance. “Shelly,” I reply. “I need Alexander.”
“Sara Jane?”
“It’s me. It’s me,” comes rushing out of my mouth.
“What’s wrong? Where are you?”
“I need Alexander. Please.” I break down and start crying again.
“He’s not here, Sara Jane. Hold on. I’ll ask Chad.”
While staring into my death, I hear muffled voices and then Chad takes the phone. “Sara Jane? Where are you?”
“A few miles from the manor—” I’m backhanded, coughing into the phone.
“What the hell is happening?”
“I need Alexander.”
“Hang tight. I’ll find him and have him call you back.”
“I don’t have time for that—”
“Get off the phone,” my captor shouts at me, spittle hitting my face.
“What’s wrong? Tell me.”
“I need to go,” I say, realizing I’m out of chances. “Tell him I love him.”
“Don’t hang up. I can help. How can I help?”
The man disconnects the call, tucking his phone into his pocket. He grabs my arm, his fingers squeezing hard enough to leave a mark. Pulling me forward, he knees me in the stomach. “Say a prayer, bitch! You’re gonna fucking die for his sins.”
I fall to the ground when he kicks me in the back.
I am strong.
I am strong.
I am—
My world goes black . . .
A hard hit to my face jumbles my mind awake. My vision is blurry, and my ears are ringing. I wipe drool from my mouth, but when my hand pulls back my vision clears, and I see the blood and dirt dredged across my skin. Looking up at the man with hate-filled eyes, he spits on me and scowls. “I should fuck you, take everything from him and send him the leftovers. He thinks he’s a king, but I’ll make him a pauper.”
A noise that sounds unlike myself comes screaming out. The man who stalks my nightmares comes to mind, his body pressed to my backside, the feeling so real it’s as if it’s happening all over again. My fear is visceral and deep. Fight. “No. Please. I’ll get you the money. I’ll talk to Alexander.”
“Shut the fuck up. Too late for negotiating.” He reaches to touch my cheek, but I bat his hand away. Standing up, offended, his lip twitches. “Yeah, I’ll fuck you, which will fuck your boyfriend up.” He walks to the back of the car and opens the trunk. “He’ll never look at you the same. Oh wait, he won’t anyway since you’ll be dead.”
The screeching of a car rounds the bend and skids to a stop. Chad jumps out, leaving the car running. Before he sees what’s happening, he yells, “Oh shit, Sara Jane,” and rushes to my side.
Using every ounce of energy I have left, I shout, “Run!”
The sound is loud and instant.
No compassion is found in gunfire.
For the moment, Chad looks confused. But then reality dawns, and his expression morphs as his hands cover his chest. I scream, moving to reach him as fast as I can as he drops to the ground. Blood spreads through the threads of his striped shirt. “Sara Jane?”
“Nooo. No, Chad. Oh God!”
Tension leaves his features, his eyes focusing through me. “I’m sorry.”
Sobs take over, my breath coming short, and my lungs close as panic sets in again. Chad’s head hits the ground. His eyes are wide open. I touch his face, to beg him to stay. “Please, Chad. Fight.” It’s then that I see the life leave his eyes. This man. My friend for so many years. He can’t leave. He just can’t. Scrambling closer, I drop my head down on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Oh, Shelly. Oh God. What have I caused?
“You’re going to be. I’m going to fucking kill every last person who ever mattered to the young heir.” The voice that will haunt me to my dying breath, hangs over me singing, “One down. You to go.”
Looking up through watering eyes, I know I’m not going to make it out of this alive. It’s clear he’s going to kill me, his hate infused into his view of me long before we ever met. I only have one option left.
To fight.
I pull myself up, walking my hands up the side of the car. My body hurts. Something broken or bruised in my chest making it hard to breathe. But I do. I breathe because I must. For me. For this baby. For Alexander. “You are going to die before I take my last breath.”
“Small threats from such a little bitch.”
“It’s not a threat.” My glare hits him hard. “It’s a promise.”
“I’m going to shove my dick so far down your throat you’re gonna feel it in that fucking cunt of yours.”
Every second slows, the wind settling. My eyes take one long blink, and then I fight for my baby’s life. Whipping the car keys from my pocket, I flick it open from the fob and swing solid, nothing stopping me.
The skin of his cheek rips open and blood pours out. Like all tragic love stories, Alexander’s and mine is no different. Death comes too easily when faced with evil. Struck, a slicing pain rips through me, the bang quieter than my scream. Maybe death doesn’t storm in. Maybe it tiptoes in when you’re not expecting it.
Alexander.
From the moment we met, we were always meant to go down in a blaze of glory. Our love flamed hot, burning us from the insides and scorching our souls, marking them for long after this life.
It was easy to believe in love and fairy tales with Alexander. He, the hero of my story, of my life, and I, his heroine
.
It’s too bright. I open my eyes, and considering the pain I’m feeling, the sun shouldn’t be shining. The bright blue sky reminds me of the only blue I want to see. Brilliant blue eyes, not found in the heavens, but here on earth.
The world dims momentarily. “Where’s your boyfriend?” the man asks.
How did I end up here? Like this?
I know. I just don’t want to admit the truth. Even now.
Closing my eyes to block him out, I search my mind for the answer. “He’ll come for us,” I whisper.
I’m too broken to feel another kick, but I see when he pulls his foot back and lands it against my middle.
A car. Blue. Swerve. Della. Jason. Kingwood. Alexander. “He’ll come for us,” I whisper, unsure if he hears me.
Us.
Another sharp slap to my face sends my head to the right. He heard me. I’m too stubborn to scream again, to give him the satisfaction, even as the taste of copper coats my mouth. I’m going to die. I will die silently before I give him anything more. Curling to the side, I hold my stomach protecting the only thing that matters. I haven’t told Alexander. I haven’t had the chance. I was going to, but this unforeseen detour has brought me here, a mere two miles from the manor.
What if I survive? I can. Maybe. I think. If I hold on, just a little longer. Reaching out, I touch the red pooled in front of me, wondering if that’s someone else’s blood. It can’t be mine. There’s too much to be mine. I’m alive, but now I’m wondering for how long.
“Where’s King?” is shouted. Again. I assume, still at me, but I refuse to say more. How did this man find me?
I don’t know the answer anyway. I haven’t seen him since he left me. The memory of his face when I let him ride away causes my breath to stutter in my throat and I cough. I wish I could change the past. I wish I could go back to the beginning and relive our love from the start.