Come To Me (Owned Book 3)

by Gebhard, Mary Catherine

  I shook my head. “I don’t want anything.”

  “Exactly.” Lissie waved her arms. “Impossible to shop for.”

  I shrugged and looked at the sheathed rectangle in my hands. It was wrapped up nicely and had a little bow. The paper felt odd against my hands. It was beautiful, but I was supposed to tear it apart.

  “Vic?” Lennox asked. “Are you going to open it?”

  “Yeah,” I responded gruffly. I started with the bow, untying it and then handing it back to Lissie. Then I carefully undid the tape, making sure not to tear the paper. When I was done I held my present in my hand, regarding it.

  “So,” Lissie said. “You don’t have any pictures in this place, at least none that I can see. I took this on my phone so it’s not the best quality, but I think it’s pretty cute.”

  I stared at the photo. It was of me and Lennox. We were both smiling, the beach our back drop. I remembered the day, just a couple weeks ago. Lenny, Zoe, Lissie, their new baby girl, Grace, Eli, and I had all gone to the beach. Everyone together and happy. It was a normal day. A day filled with happiness.

  A rare day.

  “Vic?” Lenny’s voice drifted to my ears. “Vic you’ve been staring at the photo for a few minutes now.”

  “Thank you,” I said, turning my attention back to Lissie.

  “It’s from both of us,” Lissie said, gesturing to Zoe.

  “No,” Zoe said. “I got you a set of nice coasters. Because you are a neat freak.” At that the group started to laugh. The room filled with the sound just as my alarm went off. I glanced down at my watch; I only had an hour left.

  “This has been…” I searched for the right word. “Fun. But I have to get going.”

  “Where do you have to go?” Lenny exclaimed. “You still have more presents and we have games to play! Zoe was so excited to play charades. You haven’t even cut the fucking cake!”

  “It’s okay,” Grace said, standing up. “We can come back another time. We did surprise him.”

  “Yeah, and I think the operative word there was ‘Zoe’ was excited to play charades,” Zoe said, a small smile on her face. “I’m sleeping with this girl and she won’t even play with me.” Zoe gestured to Lissie.

  Lissie shrugged. “Maybe you should step up your game.”

  “Oh is that right?” Zoe yelled playfully. The conversation devolved among them and I took the opportunity to sneak away. As I was about to step on the first stair, a light touch on my wrist pulled me back.

  “I just wanted to give you a party…” Lenny looked away. “I know I fucked it up. I’m sorry.” Lenny threw her hands up and walked away. I followed her slightly swaying body as she made it back to the apex of the party. She opened her mouth to—I was sure—kick everyone out.

  “Well,” I said loud enough to talk over her. “Who wants charades?”

  Zoe jumped up, her body knocking over a tray of mostly eaten appetizers. “Fucking finally!”

  I should have known charades would devolve into a complete and utter shit show. We already had uneven numbers because Eli was at home studying. Uneven numbers were bad luck. It was perhaps the one superstition I held, but I held it for a good reason. When Lenny came back down from grabbing paper to write out teams and categories, her face was different, closed off and cold. I knew something had happened.

  “What’s up?” I whispered to her while Lissie was up acting out some kind of book. Lenny ignored me, arms folded. Our therapist’s advice drifted into my mind like the bay breeze, and like the breeze, it was hardly noticeable.

  “Thus Spake Zarathustra!” Grace called out.

  Lissie gestured to Grace that she had figured it out and then turned to Zoe, her face red either from drink or frustration, probably both. “What the fuck, Zoe?” Lissie yelled, pushing back a strand of loose blonde hair. “Are you for real? I put down Harry Potter.”

  “Go big or go home.” Zoe shrugged as she stood up, preparing to act out her own charade.

  “I’m surprised Grace even got it,” Lissie said, sagging into the couch.

  “Well when you’re a social recluse for upwards of eighteen years…” Grace mumbled into her drink and they started the next round of charades. Still, Lenny’s participation was lackluster. When she made guesses, her eyes were focused elsewhere and her voice monotone.

  I poked her playfully. “What’s wrong?”

  Turning away from Zoe, she yelled at me, completely obliterating the pretense of whispering. “I found the insurance policy, that’s what’s wrong. Will there ever come a day when you don’t lie?” I exhaled, blowing strands of hair away from my face.

  Fuck.

  Briefly I wondered what our friends thought of us. I wondered how they even managed to put up with us, why the even bothered.

  “Vic,” Grace said, trying to diffuse the situation. “You’re up.” I looked to Grace, reaching a hand to me from where she sat cross-legged in a chair. I snatched the paper from her and read the ridiculous movie that had been written down. If it were any other time, I would have laughed at what was most definitely Zoe’s contribution. It wasn’t any other time. Lenny stared daggers at me, her eyes burning holes into my skin.

  I sighed, not sure how in the motherfuck I was going to act out Night of the Day of the Dawn of the Son of the Bride of the Return of the Revenge of the Terror of the Attack of the Evil, Mutant, Hellbound, Flesh-Eating Subhumanoid Zombified Living Dead, Part 2: In Shocking 2-D in under a minute and thirty seconds. At my displeased expression, Zoe laughed and said,

  “I think I know which one he has.”

  “You are the worst when we play charades,” Lissie replied.

  Zoe shrugged and pressed start on the timer. Before I could even begin, Lenny shouted, “Iago! Wait, no, that’s too kind.”

  “I haven’t even begun yet.”

  “Haven’t you?” Lenny interrupted.

  “And Iago is a character.” I crumpled the torn piece of paper into my hand. “Not a movie, book, song, or TV show.” Lenny seethed, silently sipping her drink. Even though Lenny sat on the couch and I was standing up, it felt like we were battling, like the world had fallen away and we were on our own island exchanging blows.

  Sometimes I thought it would be better that way, if we fought with fists instead of with words. I’d exchanged punches with men and shared drinks right after. The way Lenny and I fought was so much deeper, so much crueler, and we didn’t share drinks after.

  “What drink number is that?” I dared.

  “Maybe we should switch up teams!” Zoe exclaimed, throwing tawny arms in the air. “I’m obviously the best. It’s almost cruel to pair me with someone.”

  “Wait, wait.” Lissie reached across Lenny on the couch, placing a hand on Zoe’s thigh. “Are you seriously proposing we watch you battle yourself?”

  “What are you, my babysitter?” Lenny stood up, violently shucking Lissie’s hand off her waist. There was a stillness in the aftermath as all eyes turned toward us.

  Lissie, Zoe, and Grace all exchanged glances. “I have a feeling charades is over,” Grace said.

  “At least the game is,” Zoe remarked.

  “I really don’t want it to be,” I growled. “But since you’ve been acting like a child…”

  “It’s a party Vic—oh wait, it was a party, meaning we have fun.” Lennox took another sip of what looked like straight liquor and continued, “So lighten the fuck up.”

  “What is wrong with you?” I grabbed her arm, pulling her toward me. I had such a strong urge to shake her, to pull her out of whatever fugue she was in. We used to fight hard, but then we fucked harder.

  Now we just fought.

  And we cut.

  And we bled.

  But we couldn’t keep wounding each other without death.

  “What is wrong with me?” Lenny dropped her drink to the ground, using her free hand to grasp my shirt. “I found a life insurance policy that will pay out millions if I die. Do I need to mention where I found that pol
icy Vic?”

  I glared. “Should we do this in front of company?”

  “If your head wasn’t so far up your ass you would notice that they’d already left.” I paused and looked around. The party had indeed moved out. The only people left were me and Lennox. I sighed, placed a hand to my temple, and tried to take a step back but Lenny kept her fist to my shirt. I raised a brow.

  “You know what hurts the most?” she asked, releasing her grip. “That it wasn’t shocking. I found the policy and I wasn’t shocked. Do you have things hidden in the walls, too, Vic? Am I going to find skeletons beneath the layer of drywall?”

  I folded my arms. “Of course not.”

  “Don’t act like it’s such a ridiculous accusation, Vic!” Lenny bent down and picked up her empty glass. Dusting it off, she walked over to the bar, but not before waving back at me to say, “It is us we’re talking about.”

  “So I have some things under the floor; it’s not as if you discovered the Rosetta Stone down there.”

  Lenny scoffed and walked back to me, drink and policy in hand. “Then what the fuck is this, Vic?”

  “You know what that is.”

  “Why do you have it?”

  “Why were you rifling through my stuff?”

  “I wasn’t rifling. I tripped over the goddamn floorboard and your secrets came spilling out! I don’t even want to touch on the fact that you have shit hidden in the floorboards. It took enough of me to comprehend your secret Batman lair, but this? Why?”

  I rubbed my temples. “Can we not today, Lennox?”

  “It’s an insurance policy, Vic! It’s over a million dollars and it’s in my name! Why? Are you planning on killing me or something?”

  “You got me.” I raised my hands in defeat. “This entire relationship is just an elaborate ruse.”

  “You know what? Fuck you!” Lenny threw the papers on the floor. “Fuck you and your lies and manipulation. Fuck your secret lair and your secret life. Fuck all of this.” She turned around but I grabbed her and pushed her up against the wall, pinning her with one hand. Her drink tumbled to the ground, the glass making a clink against the hardwood.

  “You think you’re the only one in this relationship getting mind fucked?” Lenny glared at my words, mouth pursed. “You’re not just in my head anymore, Lenny. You’re in my blood. You’re in my bones.” Her chest heaved and I felt it against my own. I felt her tits, I felt her stomach, I felt the way her body shook despite the way she kept her face calm. I felt everything, and it was driving me fucking insane.

  I tightened my grip and arched my face over hers, ready to capture her lips with my own, when she spat in my face. Wiping the saliva off on her exposed neck, I did my best to hide the smile that played on my lips. The fire between us would burn us to damnation, but dammit if the heat didn’t feel good.

  “Fuck you, Vic.” Lenny used her knee to try and shove me off but it just made me pin her harder. “Always thinking you can change the conversation with hot words and hotter hands.”

  “Can’t I?” I shoved her harder against the wall, making sure to brand her belly with my cock. Her eyes hardened.

  “You’re just a bully with a hard club.” I crushed my mouth against hers, silencing her next words. She bit at my lip, tugging hard enough to bruise and bleed. She made sure I tasted my own blood and she also made sure I was good and distracted before pushing me off.

  We stared at one another, our breaths tumbling like rocks down a hillside. Our lips were marked with each other’s blood, our eyes in an unbroken stare as we waited…waited for something to give that neither of us wanted to let go.

  Eventually Lenny looked away, heading back to the bar. She picked up the glass I’d knocked out of her hand on the way. I laughed, but there was nothing funny. When she turned back to me, she took a slow draught from the now very chipped glass and leaned against the kitchen counter.

  “You’re very good at pretending, you know that?” I folded my arms, refusing to play her games. “In the beginning, you pretended you didn’t feel anything. After that, you pretended the reality you shaped around us was real. And now…” Lenny laughed. “Now, you’re pretending you don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lennox.”

  “Sure you don’t. And this is just a multivitamin.” Lenny popped a pill, chasing it with the rest of her drink. As she moved past me, I grabbed her by the elbow.

  “I don’t need this, Lenny,” I snarled.

  Lenny yanked her elbow and smiled acidly. “Then go.” She pointed at the door. “All I wanted was to throw you a nice party. Then you threw a tantrum and tried to kick everyone out. For what? Where do you have to go?”

  “All you wanted was to throw me a party?” I spat her accusation back on its head.

  “Yes?” she said, but it sounded more like a question.

  “Are you fucking with me, Lenny?” Apparently we were doing this. Apparently we were going to dig it up, just like all the other skeletons we’d hung out to dry. “Three hours ago you were talking about leaving me for good.”

  Lenny waved a hand like what I was saying was frivolous. “Well I got over that.”

  “Just like that?”

  Lenny spun to face me. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to, Vic.” Her statement hung like the Sword of Damocles. I knew what she was alluding to; I knew what this entire fucking conversation was. I knew it wasn’t a multivitamin, I could see it in her glassy eyes. It was obvious by the lilt in her step and the little slur in speech. It was obvious for so many other reasons. I’d had my suspicions for months.

  But I wasn’t about to let her put that shit on me.

  Especially now.

  “Fuck this,” I said. I had one hour to discover how to get out of a hit with no loopholes. I didn’t need Lennox Moore muddying up my already murky waters. I ascended the staircase, flipping her the bird over my shoulder.

  “Whatever,” I heard her murmur as I entered my office.

  Even though I kept my office hidden, complete with secret door, there were some habits I couldn’t break. Growing up with a crazy as fuck dad and a mom who wouldn’t do a thing about it, I’d learned to hide my shit under the ground. Anything from porn to music I shoved under the floorboards. I’d grown up in an environment where hiding was akin to breathing. Now, I didn’t need to hide my porn, but like I said, habits were hard to break.

  I stared at the floor, ripped open and gutted. It was kind of apropos, because Lenny’s and my relationship was being torn apart more and more each day.

  Sighing, I bent down and began to dig around in the floorboards, searching for anything that might help me get out of the hit. I kept all my paper records in the floor, names of people who owed me favors and the like. As I pushed aside another pile, my hand fell on something slippery and plastic.

  “Shit…” I fell back onto the floor, stunned by the picture. I was smiling and hugging five other guys, wearing desert camo with an idiotic grin on my face. I knew exactly where I was—Afghanistan—and I knew exactly whom I was hugging: Dom Weathers and four other guys I’d spent nearly a year in training with beyond basic.

  Just a week after graduation and we were so thrilled to be in the thick of it. We’d all completed MARSOC training and felt like gods. We were Marine Raiders, ready to kill and conquer. Only Dom and I made it back home.

  It wasn’t like in the movies. We weren’t kings of our hills. It was quid pro quo. We killed one of theirs, they killed one of ours. Despite what the propaganda machine wanted us to believe, there was no winning side, there were only losers. I killed children I had no right to kill. We were invaders, so of course they wanted us dead.

  I never understood the people who came up and thanked me when I was in uniform. There was no honor in dying for some old man’s lies and money. Sometimes, though, you would find honor in the men and women who did the dying. A person who didn’t want to kill. A person who didn’t care about the pres
tige. A person who had no other mission than morals.

  Those guys usually died first.

  At least working for GEM, we didn’t pretend. When I did recon, when Dom did his dealings, when the hitmen killed, we knew what we were. We didn’t pretend we did it for some greater cause. We acknowledged we were the things that went bump in the night, just like we should have back then. I gripped the picture, unable to stop the wash of memories.

  Sometimes it felt like night was hotter than day. Maybe it was because I was so used to the temperature dropping at home, that when it didn’t, the sweat stung harder. In any case, nightly patrols were the worst. I’d been distracted. Earlier that day a woman dressed way nicer than anyone should be in a war had come up to me, a smile on her face and a water bottle in her hand. She’d asked if I was happy where I was.

  What the fuck do I say to that?

  I’d said “Yes ma’am.” Hours later, I was still thinking about her. It was probably just some goddamn test. They were always testing us, even still. It was because I was thinking of that woman in a pantsuit, with a face so done up she looked like a china doll, that I didn’t see him.

  I don’t think he saw me either, maybe because he was thinking of a woman of his own. We came face to face before either of us recognized the other.

  We were enemies.

  We were supposed to shoot.

  I was tired, though. I was tired of shooting people I didn’t know. I was sick of anonymous death.

  I think maybe he was sick of it too.

  When I looked into his eyes, I didn’t see the enemy. I just saw another person going for a walk. It was happenstance that we were alone. You don’t go alone on patrols; you don’t go alone period. But there we were, in the middle of a battlefield, alone. We didn’t smile or anything, but I guess it was what we didn’t exchange that mattered. We didn’t exchange bullets.

  We passed each other like two ships in the night.

  The next morning I was on aid and litter. I saw him again, except that time his eyes were closed and he had bullets in his chest.