We’d always got along. Instead of sibling rivalry, it was typically us against our parents. Though we’d had our fair share of fights, our collaboration of damn near emancipating ourselves from our parents was our common bond. We mutually agreed our mother was the true villain, but together blamed our father for not liberating us from her altogether.
Aaron had developed a stammer when he was younger as a result of her. The more intense the house became with all the arguing, the worse it became. I coped by reciting the poem Clooney the Clown. Together we were a nervous poem reciting, stammering, fucking mess. To this day when I was truly terrified, I’d recite that poem. I also had an unnatural adverse reaction to any sort of sudden loud noise or yelling, hence my emergency stash of Xanax. I often wondered what lingering effects that hellish house had on my brother.
Eventually we became resentful enough to fight back with our indifference and tried to completely dissociate from them. It was just us and we raised each other. As much as our father tried to keep the monster’s at bay, his anger would win out and we would be stuck in the middle. We’d eventually forgiven our father and made a nonverbal commitment to simply tolerate and appease our mother for his sake. Secretly, I’d always hope she would turn back into the loving and tolerant woman I’d known. A woman Aaron had never met. I knew her temperament for me now was money induced. Her kind, term of endearment ‘Ninabelle’ made me cringe.
Aaron had come a long way from the little boy who had frequent accidents in bed. He’d once been so terrified he couldn’t talk himself out of my mother’s wrath.
I shook away the image of my baby brother trying to explain to my mother why he couldn’t get to the toilet.
“M—MM—Mommy, I’m s—sorry!”
She would grip his arm hard, jerking him into the bathroom, screaming at him as she cleaned him. I physically cringed at the memory. I looked up now to the man across from me, thankful he’d never used her behavior as an excuse to treat others poorly, and never excused her behavior once he was old enough to know better. My brother was one of my heroes.
“Stop staring at me. It’s fucking weird.” He looked up with a harsh glance as he sipped his coffee.
“You’re so grown up,” I mused at him with pride.
“Nina, I’m twenty-seven years old. I hit that mark a long time ago.” Rolling his eyes, he held out his cup to the waitress who filled it then sat back, looking at our limited view of Queen Street. “Okay, so spill it. Setting down his cup, he folded his arms on the table.
“Nothing you need to know, honestly. A little man trouble, but nothing I can’t handle.”
I was such a fucking liar. Still, this was my brother and my shit had no place in his head.
“Man trouble,” he snickered. “Well, I can’t imagine why, Nina. You pick the absolute worst men to fall for.”
“Not true,” I defended as our plates were set in front of us.
“Your first boyfriend was a total ass clown. What was his name? Trevor?”
“Terry. He was nice, and if I remember correctly he gave you one of his dad’s golf clubs.”
After situating my coffee, I looked up and realized he was frowning about the food. “They put shit in my eggs.” I burst out laughing as he eyed the cilantro that had ruined his breakfast. He continued his assault on my history as he scooped the green off his plate. “Then there was your first serious boyfriend. I can’t remember his name. Oh yeah, it was ‘oh, Nina. I love you, Nina. Oh, Nina.’ ”
My face burned with the memory of my baby brother bursting into my first real make out session. Thank God we were still fully clothed.
“Can we not dredge up the past, please?”
“I hated Ryan, for the record,” he stated of my ex-husband, ignoring my plea and opting for toast, bypassing his eggs completely.
“What about you, brat? It’s not like you have a great track record.” I stopped myself. His last breakup had hurt him in the way that can’t be joked about and I apologized.
“Me too. I shouldn’t have brought up Ryan.” He looked sincere and I nodded, stirring my coffee with my spoon. “Is it Devin?” When I had introduced the two before Devin and I got involved, I could see he assumed there was something going on. “I liked him.”
“You met him once.”
“Even so, is it him?”
“No,” I lied. “You know, Aaron, maybe we are destined to—”
“Don’t even say it, Nina. We aren’t them and we will never be.”
Smiling, I agreed again without words. “I’ll buy you a house here.” He was shaking his head as the first two words spilled out. “They won’t even have to know.”
“Nina, I love you, you are the most important person in my life, but I refuse to live off of you. I want to find my own way. And hey, I’m not doing so bad, okay. Don’t worry about me. You will always have me, just not here. It’s Florida, golfer’s paradise.”
“I’ll come to you then, and soon, okay. No more every six months shit. And we can’t count Christmas, except for last year when you sprinkled weed in Mom’s batch of Christmas cookies. That Christmas counts.” We both exploded with laughter as we recalled her sleeping the entire day, suddenly ‘exhausted’ while Dad, Aaron, and I drank on the patio playing Yahtzee, free from her reign. It was the best Christmas ever.
I paid the bill and Aaron shoved money in my purse, cursing while giving me a disapproving eye. When we exited the tiny picket fence leading out into the street, I saw Aaron’s face contort in fear as he yanked at my arm hard and I was pulled off my feet. All I heard was a crunch and explosion of splintering wood. I felt an unbelievable throb in my side as I stared up at the blue sky, completely confused. I saw one head come into view then two, and soon I was screaming in pain.
“Fuck, did you get the license plate?” one guy shouted to another.
“No, they took off.”
The next voice spoke directly to me. “It’s okay, ma’am, we just called an ambulance.”
Panic caused my next scream to be directed toward my brother.
“Aaron! Aaron!”
“I’m here.” It was faint. I turned my head to see him lying on the ground a few feet away from me, his leg partially impaled as a result of a piece of wood from the fence. He looked at me helplessly as the burning in my hip spread. I was filled with panic as he closed his eyes and I begged him to keep them on me, which he did weakly. Sirens approached minutes later, and I was screaming again in discomfort as they lifted me into the back of the ambulance. As the doors closed, I tried searching for Aaron, but instead I saw her.
Sitting up without thinking, I pushed through the pain to get a clear look at her until the medics pinned me back down.
Hours later, I was sitting at Aaron’s hospital bedside as the doctors informed him his surgery would consist of inserting pins and screws, and they went into further detail as to how it would proceed. Fixing his mangled leg might require two surgeries and months of recovery. I cried as my brother’s worst nightmare was realized. He wouldn’t be golfing for a very long time. Even a month away was a nightmare for a golfer. As it turned out, my injuries were minor. The fall had knocked my pelvis out of place and there was severe bruising, but I managed to escape with both legs and a prescription for strong pain medication. Tears trickled one by one as I apologized to my brother for his pain and the part I played in taking away what meant most to him.
“It’s not like I won’t recover,” he said dryly. I was nowhere near being as comforted as his words tried to make me.
“I think my ex’s wife did this.” He eyed me carefully then exhaled slowly. “I think she tried to kill me. This is my fault. Jesus, Aaron, she could have killed you.” I sobbed as he listened to me tell the tale of Devin and his diabolical wife. He asked a question every so often, but mostly just listened. I felt like I was finally coming clean to someone who had the right to reprimand me.
When I finished, Aaron was thoughtful for a long moment before he spoke. “Nope, sorry, even
if that’s true, you didn’t do this. You didn’t even see the fucking car. I’m glad I was there. It sucks …” He winced in discomfort, adjusting himself on the bed. “But, Nina, that hit would have killed you.”
I continued to beg his forgiveness as he comforted me as he laid in the hospital bed.
“Nina, have you ever heard the saying ‘Every day is a Monday?’”
“No.” I sniffed into his bedding.
“Well, dear sister, when I was bingeing on Jack Daniels to get over Danielle, I swore the next day I wouldn’t do it again. And the next day I would, and I would swear to start over. This lasted for about six months. I treated every fucking day like it was a Monday and when I fucked up it became Sunday again. I just kept at it, some days knowing it was a lost cause, some days more of an optimist. Eventually that day came.”
“I get it,” I said, wiping my nose.
“You didn’t do this to me. And tomorrow is your Monday.”
“I’ll feel guilty about this until I die.”
“And one day I may use it against you when it’s funny, but right now it’s not.”
After the cops showed up and questioned us for their mandatory amount of minutes, Aaron’s meds kicked in and took him into a peaceful sleep, after I assured him I wasn’t leaving. Some part of him thought I might be delusional about the incident being purposeful, but the part that believed me wanted me safely next to him, so I promised I’d stay until we figured it out.
I lied.
Exiting the hospital, I went from devastated to murderous in minutes. I called Devin’s secretary under false pretenses, stating I had an emergency and found out he was dining with his fair wife at The Chophouse. His secretary and I got along well and I was sure this would be the last favor I asked.
Rage swept through me as Carson pulled up and I exited without his assistance. Pushing through the waiting crowd, I spotted them immediately in the center of the room, and they weren’t alone.
And in no universe would it have mattered.
Neither of them saw me as I approached. I gripped the fine linen that covered their table with my fists and pulled the entirety off it off as they stood crippled with shock and covered in their feast.
“Goddamn fucking bitch! Do I have your attention!” She looked around the table with pleading eyes, paling with my every word. “Tell them what you’ve done, Eileen! Tell them what you’ve done!” She glared at me over the table as I rounded it to get closer.
“Nina,” she hissed over the commotion, “I’m quite sure I have no idea what—”
“She proved her love today for you, Devin,” I raged, not looking his way, my eyes zeroing in on his wife as I inched closer to her. “If you ever come near me or my family again, I won’t have to make it look like an accident! I’ll do my own dirty work.”
Devin stood, mouth gaping, as I let out my fury without worrying about the consequences. Maybe I’d played right into her hands with my public outburst. Then again, she’d expected me maimed or dead. Picturing my brother in that hospital bed caused me to take another step around the table. Devin walked toward me, clearly confused.
“Your wife put a fucking hit on me, Devin! Who the fuck actually does that? But just like everything else in her life, including her marriage, she failed.” Eileen looked around the room terrified as several off the staff came toward me to halt my scene. I used my time wisely and stood face to face with her. “You want him? Have him! And please by all means make sure he stays the fuck away from me. You are right, sweetheart, I am a street rat. And there’s something you should know about rats …” I slapped her hard and she flew back, her hand on her swelling face, playing the victim perfectly, …“we can fight just as dirty as we fuck. Come at me or my family again and I’ll show you how bad it can get.” Disgusted, I turned to Devin, tears of rage in my eyes. “She almost killed my brother today to get to me. She almost killed Aaron!” He took another step toward me, reaching for me as the rest of the table looked on at the spectacle. My arm shot out, stopping him as I gripped my hip, the pain starting to throb unbearably. I must have looked a complete mess, my clothes torn, my face streaked with tear stains.
“Nina—”
“Please, I’m begging you stay the fuck away from me. You are not worth it.” To make sure he got my point, I said it again, my eyes locked on his. “You. Are. Not. Worth. It.”
His eyes filled with something I’d only seen in brief glimpses over the past few months. Remorse quickly turned to rage as he looked over to witness his wife’s breakdown. She reached out to him and I turned on my heel, leaving without looking back.
Shaking in the back seat of my town car, I dialed Taylor. I’d wondered if the police were looking for me due to my behavior at the restaurant. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if Eileen painted herself a victim and sent them for me. Someone had the decency to return my purse to me at the hospital, minus the cash in my wallet, of course. They took a couple hundred in twenties but managed to spare my six hundred dollar phone.
Idiots.
She picked up on the first ring.
“Boss.”
“I need to talk to you now, privately.”
“Okay.”
“In person.”
“Okay, I can meet you. Where?”
“Downtown, somewhere public.”
“Should I be worried?” Her tone let me know she’d heard the desperation in my voice.
“Meet me at the market, the first closest to Bay.” I hung up without waiting for a reply. I knew she would be there. The Old Slave Market was situated in the heart of downtown Charleston. The hideous name came from the fact that it was supposed to have been where the buying and selling of slaves started in the 1600’s, but the locals knew better. The real location of the slave trade was actually a few streets over. The market had since been remolded into a main tourist attraction where hundreds of vendors of art, jewelry and other local treasures were sold.
Carson let me out in front of the first of four long buildings that made up the market. Taylor was waiting, her expression unreadable. I started walking next to her toward the entrance, and when I was sure we weren’t in earshot of anyone, I started barking orders.
“I want a new alarm system in my house and at Scott Solutions tonight. I don’t care what the cost is. Bribe them. I want a security team for me personally and stationed at Solutions all day, every day.”
She nodded. “Now we have people we are afraid of?”
I stopped and turned to her. “Devin’s wife tried to kill me today. I can’t prove it but she was there. I didn’t see the car but I saw her after, as if she was trying to confirm I was dead. My brother was with me and got me out of the way in time, but he was badly injured. It’s time to be cautious. I don’t know when or if they’ll be coming for me again. It might be best if you lay low.” I couldn’t believe the words coming out of my mouth. I was still in shock this was the situation.
“Jesus, a hit. Who the hell does that?”
“I said the same thing when I bitch slapped her in The Chophouse twenty minutes ago.” Taylor burst out laughing, but I could see the hint of anger in her eyes.
“Good for you and I will carry out all of that. Give me five minutes and then you and I are going for a drink.”
“Taylor, it’s not safe to be with me right now.” We walked from one building to the next as the vendors began to break down for the night. The crowd was thinning. It was time to leave.
“You trust me with the livelihood of your company. I need you to trust me for five more minutes.”
I nodded as the pain from my hip became impossible to ignore. I leaned against a vendor table, pretending to sift through hand woven scarves as the reality of what today had brought set in. As much as I hated to admit it, I should have taken Eileen’s threats more seriously. My brother was hurt, and for the first time in my life, I was afraid I wouldn’t live to see another day. No matter how brazen I’d been, I was now scared shitless.
Taylor returned mi
nutes later, motioning for me to walk with her. I had her accompany me back to Carson then took the prescription for my medication out of my purse, asking him to fill it and pick me up in an hour. Taylor nodded in agreement with my timeline and walked me over to Henry’s House, a pub across the street from the market. I winced with every step as we made our way to the busy bar. It was too painful to sit, so I stood as she took a stool.
Once we’d both had a shot of something strong –whiskey, I think—and a beer in hand, Taylor turned to me. “Okay, so I think it’s time I explained a few things to you.”
I nodded, intrigued.
“I was raised in situations like this. I’m not afraid and I don’t want you to be, either.”
I waited, because I was still too absorbed in the situation and the pain in my side to reply.
“Tomorrow, we get you a permit, forty eight hours later, a gun.”
“No,” I dismissed her suggestion, wincing at the pain seeping through my every limb. “Taylor, I’m not the type of woman—”
“Today made you that type of woman,” she deadpanned and I nodded. “This might be shocking to you and I get it, but from where I come from this is just another day in the park.”
“Where did you come from, Taylor?” I looked around the bar, fear creeping in as I thought about the fact that I might have been followed every minute of today, my new reality still impossible to fully grasp.
“Dirt and metal grass.”
“Always so cryptic,” I scorned as I looked right at her.
“Today’s not the day for my story.” She nodded over my shoulder. “Security is here. I want you to do what he tells you to and I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”
“Taylor, I don’t know what to say.”
“You’re welcome and it’s still my job, at least for the next few weeks. I’m glad it was me. I think this might have scared the new applicant.” She smiled and I returned it half-heartedly.
Hindrance Page 3