Killing June

by May Bridges

  “Wasn’t expecting you today.” He leaned forward and tapped a pen against his desk. I could hear the hint of warning in his tone.

  “I know, but I have your cut from last night. And we need to talk.”

  “I figured you’d want to after I heard Christian was picked up at your place.” Robert let out a long sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry about that. I sent them to Joe’s so they could ID Christian. Told them to pick him up whenever was most convenient.” The heavy look on his face washed away as the corners of his lips turned up. “I heard you had Christian packaged and ready to go. Handcuffs and all.” His grin turned my stomach.

  “Yeah, well I’m glad you think it’s funny. I sure as hell didn’t. But that isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.” I got up to retrieve my purse that was by the door where I’d dropped it. “You know where Becker is, don’t you?” I blurted out the accusation, easing back down in the chair, trying not to wince when the leather chair rubbed my welts.

  Roberts’s brow shot up and his jaw flexed. I knew that look. He was teetering between curious and pissed.

  “You know I care about you.” Robert stood and came around to the front of his desk. He propped himself against the edge of it, directly in front of me, arms crossed.

  “No bullshit, Robert. I know. I know you’ve been lying to me. And hell, Robert, I know you’ve been using me for money. I just don’t know why. Help me understand.” I wanted him to make this make sense. I wanted to hear the explanation that was going to make everything okay, the explanation that would redeem him in my mind.

  I’d been seeking out the redeeming qualities in Robert for years. When we were kids and he would get kicked out of school, I’d say it was because he was too smart, that he was bored there. It was probably true, but I was looking for ways to sugarcoat things.

  When he started selling drugs, I only looked at how he was trying to help his family with money. I only needed a few small straws of good intentions to grasp at.

  “You’re right, I know where he is.” Robert’s eyes felt heavy on me in the silent pause. “I don’t want you around him, not even for a minute.”

  “That isn’t your choice, damn it.”

  “Really? Because I’m pretty sure, right now, it is my choice. I know you think confronting him will help. It won’t. He doesn’t give a shit about what he did, and you’ll only end up more hurt in the end.”

  “And you couldn’t have told me that when I asked you to look for him? You used me, Robert.” My heart clenched in my chest just saying the words.

  “I’m not using you. We both get something out of this. It’s for you too.” Robert ran his hand down his clean shaven face. He always looked more boyish clean shaven, more innocent than he really was.

  “Oh hell, please explain how it’s for me. How running a BDSM shop out of my loft with men I don’t know is better for me than confronting Becker.”

  Robert reached forward and pulled me to my feet. He stayed leaned against his desk with me standing in front of him, hand in hand. I was vibrating with rage at his manipulation but the aching need I felt to have him be the boy I used to know and love was almost splitting me in two.

  “I know you want to see it all as being bad, the things you do to men, the things you let them do to you. But it’s not. I know that side of you, Alex. I know it’s who you are. So you get to live that out and make some cash, and I get to keep you close, watch over you. And sure, it’s one more service to get clients to come my way.” Robert swept my hair behind both ears, ran the back of his hand down my cheek, and pulled me a step closer.

  This was a touch I knew. It was a touch I’d known before the wires in my head got crossed and I started freaking out about men touching me. No matter how much we changed, how dark and twisted our lives got, some part of me would always think of that touch as that boy with shaking hands who first kissed me in the back of a barn.

  Sweet and innocent.

  I inhaled his clean scent and resisted the urge to push my face into the hand that still lingered against my cheek. I wanted the comfort of someone familiar, but I didn’t want it from him.

  Of course Robert knew the other side of me, it was a side we’d explored together. Just out of high school we started going to kink clubs. I thrived on a type of sex where the touch wasn’t soft and I had so much control. I’d felt like Robert and I shared that part of our private lives with each other. And now he was exploiting that private connection.

  “I’m not a service, Robert.” I could feel heat rising up through my body, creeping up my neck.

  “No, you’re not.” Robert considered my face for a moment, a sad look washed over him. “You’re still the girl I met when I was sixteen, trying to hide behind some shiny image of yourself. But you and I both know it’s dark underneath. I give that darkness a place to live.”

  His answer hit me as both an alien accusation and a crushing confirmation of a truth I already knew. I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want there to be someone else in the world who knew as well as I did how screwed up I was. Because deep down inside, I did know it. The things I wanted, the things I liked, they were dark and I was broken for it.

  Robert dropped his hand and pulled me in a step closer. He squeezed my ass before I had time to realize what he was doing. The sting from the welt made me yelp.

  “Hard to deny that those dark places exist when the proof is across your ass right now.”

  I took a step back and gaped at him.

  “I know Christian didn’t do that. So tell me, who did you let whip you?” His face grew hard and his jaw set tight.

  My pulse grew frantic. I opened my mouth but couldn’t find words.

  Three quick raps on the door saved me. Mike poked his head in. “Hey, boss. He’s here. You want me to have him wait?”

  “No, we’re almost done. You can show him in,” Robert answered over my shoulder. Mike ducked back out.

  “This isn’t about what I do, Robert. It’s about you using me and me trying to believe that you aren’t a monster.”

  “I may very well be a monster,” his deep blue eyes looked as sincere as I’d ever seen them, “but for you, my girl, I’ve always strived to be more.”

  The sad smile on his face was breaking my heart. Mostly because I knew he was more, more than the monster he showed the world.

  I turned to grab my purse off the chair, and in the doorway stood my current nightmare, Cade. Our eyes met and I froze, losing all coherent thought before I remembered I needed to breathe.

  “Cade, come on in.” Robert waved him over to the chair next to me. “I’m sure you remember Alex. I hear from Twitch that she packaged up Christian for you.”

  “Alex?” Cade repeated the name Robert gave him.

  “Perhaps the two of you didn’t have the opportunity to get around to formal introductions. Cade, this is Alex, my girl. Alex, this is Cade, my business associate.”

  Cade reached out to shake my hand with no sign in his expression that not only had we exchanged names—although Alex wasn’t the name I’d offered—but he’d also whipped me raw, and screwed me.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Alex. Officially anyway. I’m glad you’re here. I was thinking I wouldn’t have the chance to apologize for last night. I shouldn’t have left you there like that, and I’m sorry.” His velvet brown eyes bored into mine and I could feel my face warming, heat spreading down my neck and chest.

  “Left you?” Robert asked. He pushed away from the desk, taking a step in, and draped his arm over my shoulder, never taking his eyes off Cade.

  My heart rate went supernova in my chest and my ears started ringing. Crap, what do I say?

  “She was a little shocked after we took Christian. Twitch obviously didn’t know how to behave around a woman. When he hit her, she struck her head. I felt bad that more attention wasn’t given to her state before I left. I should’ve stayed to make sure she was okay.” Cade shrugged.

  “I see. Well, she’s
pretty tough, but I appreciate that you were concerned.” Robert squeezed my shoulder. “And yeah, Twitch is getting a lesson in manners very soon.”

  I was all too aware of Cade’s eyes taking in every touch between Robert and I.

  I needed to go. I’d needed to go before Cade got there, and I sure as shit needed to go now. The situation with Robert was causing enough stress to break me. Adding in the montage of images that suddenly flooded my brain—of Cade, naked, sweat dripping over his muscled frame, holding a red lacquered cane—I was on the verge of a having a stress-induced orgasm right where I stood, if that’s even possible.

  I threw the envelope of cash next to Robert on his desk and retrieved my S&W. “We can finish talking about this later, but you should know”—I pointed to the envelope of cash—“that’s the last one, Robert. Maybe you’re right about what I need and what I don’t need. I don’t know, but I’ll figure it out on my own.”

  Robert grabbed my arm as I turned to leave. He pulled me in tight. His touch felt strangely possessive. “Even if you don’t understand, I do it for you. I’m keeping you close. It’s a promise, not a choice.”

  Robert took my face in his hands and pushed his lips gently against mine. It was a brief, soft kiss, and I had no idea where it came from. Robert hadn’t kissed me, not that way, in years. I was all at once shocked and furious.

  “And I will find out who has you wincing when you sit down,” he whispered in my ear.

  He let me go and I beelined for the door, giving only a sideways glance to Cade as I passed.

  “Alex.” Robert’s call stopped me at the door. “We will talk about the clients again. This isn’t the last one.” He nodded toward the envelope of cash. “Think about what I said when you are sitting in church tomorrow, still pretending. We both know you’re hiding.” The uncompassionate, arrogant grin on his face was the last thing I saw as I shut the door.

  Watching him flip from the boy in the back of the barn to the crime boss gave me whiplash. He was one, and then the other, in the span of a heartbeat. Perhaps it was a facade put on for Cade, a switch that was needed after he let Cade witness a small tender moment. If that moment was really tender at all. Appearances, appearances.

  Crime boss or not, he was wrong about me taking more clients. I wasn’t a whore. I didn’t have a pimp, or work for Robert. Finding Becker without him was very possible.

  I didn’t want to cut Robert from my life, but if it was the only way to rid myself of June, then that’s what I’d do. Robert was right about the dark things I kept inside. They needed to be let go, released. I didn’t know how to root out all of the ugliness, but I knew it would start with June.

  Chapter Seven

  I was going to vomit. The lingering smell of alcohol made the need to vomit more urgent. I didn’t know if the smell was coming from me or Rachel, who was snoring next to me. Either way, I needed to escape it.

  Stumbling into the bathroom, I caught my toe on the suede ottoman at the end of my bed and stepped on Mr. Heart’s tail, sending him running with a loud hiss. After a rash of curse words and hopping, I barely made it to the toilet before the contents of my stomach made a reappearance. There wasn’t much there: fries from our three a.m. McDonald’s run, and whatever portion of the many whiskey sours my body hadn’t absorbed. Most of my puking efforts were dry heaves.

  With every retch of my stomach my head filled with too much pressure and my eyeballs felt like they were going to explode. I couldn’t fathom how Rach partied so many nights a week and was still a functioning member of society. I also didn’t know how she was still snoring after the alarm clock, all my yelling about the damn ottoman, Mr. Heart yelling at me, and all the noise I was making in the bathroom. I envied her party prowess. Though it wasn’t a surprise. Rachel had always been better than me at partying the night away and waking up bright eyes and smiles.

  She paced herself better than I did. All through high school it was this way. She would sip her drinks throughout the night, dance and flirt. I downed my drinks and danced when she dragged me out on the floor.

  She usually ended the night on a sofa with a member of the football team. I ended the night puking in the bushes. Not much on that front had changed over the years. It took more to make me puke, and Rachel had moved on from the football team to Dallas’s up-and-coming men.

  I felt marginally better after the hottest shower I could manage, and better yet after a thorough teeth brushing. Is it a sin to go to church with a hangover? Hangover? Hell, I might have still been drunk. I didn’t know, but I had to be at church that morning. It was potluck Sunday and no respectable family unit missed it. I’d have to add it to the list of things I needed forgiveness for. An ever growing list as it was.

  I left a full pot of coffee for Rachel with a side of Advil. A bowl of food for Mr. Heart and a few cat treats to say sorry for the tail, and I headed out to Sunday morning church.

  I hung my head to the side, half out the window, on the ride, trying not to look too much like a dog. The morning air was cool and the rush felt great on my face. It dulled my headache and made me feel alive. The thirty minute drive to Plano was a bit shy of the time I needed to feel good and sober. The towering white church with stained glass windows came into view. I spotted my parents in the parking lot and took a space a few trucks down from them.

  “Honey,” Mama called. “We’ve got to hurry now,” she fussed before even reaching my car. “We’ll be late for services. Come on. We still have to get our dishes down to the dinin’ hall.”

  She stopped long enough to look me over. I saw her relax a bit and a smile played at her mouth. I knew I’d passed inspection. “You look darling this morning,” she said, fixing the cuff on the sleeve of my pale pink and green dress. “I love you in Sunday dresses. Oh, and here.” She took a pie dish that was stacked on top of her crockpot, all of which my dad was balancing while patiently waiting behind her. “Here’s the pecan pie. Tell the ladies downstairs that you brought it.”

  “Morning, Dad.” I leaned past my mom and kissed him on the cheek, his whiskers tickling me in the process.

  “Morning, sweetie. Better get these down to the dining hall before your mama gets on to us.” Dad winked at me and led the way.

  If Mama was a bee—hectic, buzzing here and there—my dad was the hive, stationary and stable to support her madness. I loved him for that, among other things. With our contributions to the potluck in the capable hands of the deacon’s wives, we headed upstairs to the sanctuary.

  We had gone to the same church my whole life. I was baptized there when I was eight. My parents renewed their wedding vows there. My grandmother’s funeral was there. All under the eye of Pastor Bill. We always sat in the same pew, same spot: center section, fourth back, three seats closest to the right aisle. Even with a full house our seats were available and waiting for us when we reached the front of the church.

  “Oh, Suzan,” the elderly lady, Ms. Underwood, who sat behind us said to my mother as we scooted into our seats. She took my hand in hers. Her deep amber skin was paper thin, but feather soft. “Alexandria is growin’ into a beautiful young woman.” She talked about me like you would a child, to my mother like I wasn’t there.

  “Thank you, Ms. Underwood,” Mama said. “I love your hat today. It’s darling. Say, wasn’t your grandson coming to church with you? I thought I saw him last week.”

  I caught myself before my outburst of laughter. The hat was hideous and nothing my mother would have ever liked.

  “He was, but you know kids. Can’t seem to make it here every Sunday.” I saw them both give me a sideways glance. I only committed to once a month.

  “I was hoping to introduce Alexandria to him.”

  I saw where this was going and didn’t like it. Mama always tried to set me up with men from church. She felt at my age I should’ve been married and providing grandbabies. I turned away and pretended not to hear them making arrangements for a blind date of sorts at the next potluck.

 
I flipped open my bible to the first passage the program said we were going over, and rested my head on dad’s shoulder. Resting my head on a solid mass in my hungover state was nice. It stopped the swimming.

  Mama swatted my leg and told me under her breath to sit up like a lady.

  The morning’s service was about the power of forgiveness. Forgiveness. It’s a concept that had haunted me for a long time. It didn’t always come easy to me.

  Pastor Bill read from Ephesians 4:31, about ridding yourself of bitterness, rage, and anger. Robert thought I held those things inside me. He showed me how to use physical pain to let out emotional pain.

  There was something poetic about those two days. One day I sat in the office of a man who thought I needed a whip to bleed out my anger. The next I sat in a pew—with welts from being whipped still burning on my skin—where a man told me I only needed to forgive. Only needed to forgive. If the Bible said the way to release ugly feelings from inside was forgiveness, I was screwed.

  One of the last passages Pastor Bill read was Matthew 6:14–15: “For if you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.”

  At the end of service we’re asked to bow our heads in silent prayer. It’s a time to reflect. I stared at the stained glass windows and reflected on that last passage: “ . . . if you do not forgive . . . your Father will not forgive your sins.” A passage like that is a world of crushing weight for someone like me. If it’s true, if withholding forgiveness of others means my sins cannot be forgiven, then I may be more than screwed. I may be damned, because I didn’t think I could ever forgive Becker.

  When service was over we shook hands and hugged the people in the pews around us. We told each other how good it was to see them and how lovely they looked, even if they didn’t look lovely at all.