by Tabatha Kiss
I never once pictured him accusing me. The words get out never came to mind.
I need a drink.
Thank god it’s Sunday.
The pleasant scent of Moira’s Cafe fills my nose as I step inside but it’s not as warm blankety as it usually is. The hostess’ voice goes in one ear and out the other as I pass by the station. My tongue feels stiff and tastes like old water. All of my senses feel dull and worthless.
I wander to our table on auto-pilot and plop into the last empty chair.
“Hey, guys,” I murmur.
I glance up and pause as I make eye contact with the two elderly ladies sitting across from me. My brow arches. Did I stumble into a time machine? What year is it?
“Nora?” I ask one of them.
“Trix, we’re over here!”
I twist in my chair to see Nora and Melanie snickering from a different table in the opposite corner.
“Oh,” I say, offering an apologetic nod to the old ladies. “Excuse me.”
I get up and make my way over there. Any other day and I might feel a spike of embarrassment over this but life has already beaten the feeling out of me today.
I glare into their smiling faces. “Why are we sitting over here?” I ask, annoyed.
Melanie shrugs. “They reserved the table, apparently.”
“But we always sit there.” My eyes wander the new, foreign corner. “That’s our table.”
Nora nods. “Yeah, well, we’re stuck here until the old bats move.”
“Or die, whichever comes first,” Melanie jokes. “The one on the right looks about ready to keel over at any second...”
I grab the nearest mimosa out of habit. “Whatever. I can’t bring myself to care right now.”
“Wait!” Nora launches forward, hands raised. “Don’t drink that.”
I stop, staring longingly at it for another moment before reluctantly surrendering it and picking up the glass of water in front of me.
“This is gonna be a long nine months,” I say.
Melanie takes an unapologetic sip of her mimosa. “Did you talk to Lance?” she asks.
“I did.”
Nora reaches for my hand. “How’d he take it?” she asks.
“Bad.”
Melanie grunts. “Dick.”
“What’d he say?” Nora asks.
“He accused me of doing it on purpose,” I answer.
Her jaw drops. “No, he didn’t.”
I nod. “He did. To be honest, though, I almost don’t blame him. This whole situation was fucked up from the start. We even thought he was playing me at one point, remember? He has more than enough reason to suspect the same of me.”
“So, what,” Melanie says, “he just accused you and then...?”
“And then, he told me to get out,” I say, painfully reliving it for the dozenth time since I left his house.
“Okay.” She exhales. “I hate him again.”
Nora rubs the back of my hand. “Me, too.”
“Thanks, guys.” I pick up my water glass and take a drink, pretending it’s something much, much stronger. “He probably just needs some time to cool off. He said the last woman he got pregnant died in his arms. There’s no way I can ever imagine what’s going through his head right now, you know?”
Nora nods. “Sounds like a classic case of man feels emotion, man pushes woman away to hide it, man comes groveling back after moment of clarity.”
“I hope so.” I draw a line through the condensation on my glass. “I’ll go see him again in a few days if he hasn’t called me by then.”
“Good plan,” Melanie says. “For now, just try to relax. Stress isn’t good for you, knocked up or not.”
“If only it were that simple.” I sigh. “Without Lance on my side, my entire family is doomed. Maybe I should do something about this baby now so I don’t end up giving birth in prison.”
“You are not going to give birth in prison,” Nora says. “Lance is of questionable quality at the moment but there’s no way he’d let that happen. ... Right?”
“You’re right. He won’t. Because my father would have already killed me by then. What’s one more lifetime sentence on top of the one he’s getting anyway?” I collapse onto my palms to rub my eyes. “I am so fucked.”
Melanie throws her hand up in the air as Roger passes. “We need cake. Now. Doesn’t matter what kind, just make it snappy.”
He nods and quickly rushes off toward the kitchen.
I push my hair back as I sit up. “I need some good news.”
Melanie beams. “You’re getting cake!”
“More,” I say.
“Uh...” She stutters as she looks desperately at Nora across the table. “I can see if they have pie?”
“Oh!” Nora says. “Now that Clive is back working at Red Brick, I get to use his employee discount on sex toys.”
I nod. “Okay, that’s... nice. Mel?”
Melanie stares blankly. “You might get some pie, too?”
“What about the secret admirer?” Nora asks. “You guys still talking dirty and whatnot?”
“Oh, yeah. Of course.” Melanie bites her lip. “Should I ask to meet up? Part of me really wants to but the other part is really freaked out by the idea.”
“Why?” I ask. “You like him, right?”
“Well, yeah, but that’s not everything. What if he’s too old? Or too young? Or unattractive? We might click with words but the rest could be a nightmare.”
“Just do it already,” I mutter. “Carpe diem and get it over with. You’re gonna end up with him anyway, might as well speed it up.”
Melanie raises her brow.
Nora reaches for my hand again. “Trix...”
My eyes sting with tears. “And while you’re both busy being all gross and happy with your flowers and your cheap sex toys, I’ll be here all alone with my glasses of water and my gigantic baby bump waiting for the day the police come knocking at my door because the father of my baby thinks I’m a monster.”
“You’re not a monster, honey.”
“And you’re not going to be alone, either,” Melanie says. “You have us... even if you are being kind of a bitch right now.”
I deflate onto my hands again and wipe my eyes. “I’m sorry, you guys. Is it too early to blame the hormones?”
“No,” Nora answers. “Blame away.”
Melanie quickly unrolls a cloth napkin and hands it to me.
“Thank you,” I say, dabbing beneath my eyes. “The most frustrating part is that I can’t even get drunk.”
They chuckle.
“Maybe all three of us should swear off booze while one of us pregnant,” Nora suggests. “Suffer in solidarity and all that.”
Melanie glares at her. “You shut your whore mouth, Payne.”
I laugh. “I appreciate that but... drink all you want. No reason why you guys should suffer for my mistake.” I set the napkin down and take a deep breath. “I just need to relax.”
“Right,” Nora says.
“Nothing’s decided. The world isn’t over yet. I just need a few quiet, stress-less hours to clear my head.”
Melanie nods. “Deal with it later.”
I raise my glass. “It’s Tomorrow Trix’s problem now.”
I bring my glass to my lips and take a sip. As I set it down again, my eyes lock on the dark shape across the cafe.
Marcus fucking Donner is standing outside the restaurant with his hands cupped against the windows, his eyes scanning the tables for me.
“Are you fucking kidding me?!” I say.
Nora and Melanie twist in their chairs and gasp.
“Again?” Nora asks.
Melanie squints. “What’s up with his face?”
I make eye contact with him, noticing what she means. The skin around his right eye is black and puffy. His lip is split open and a butterfly bandage clings to his swollen nose.
I stand up. “I’ll be right back,” I say.
“Are you s
ure you should go out there?” Melanie asks.
“Yeah, it’s fine.”
I move through the cafe, slipping around the tables on my way to the entrance. Marcus backs away from the windows and I see even more bruises along his jawline.
As I step outside, I pause at the small cast on his right wrist. Wow. Gavin and Danny really did do a number on him.
“Hey,” I say.
Marcus bows his head. “Ms. Argento.”
I almost smile. So professional. “What’s up?” I ask.
“Your brothers sent me to get you,” he says. “Something happened at the jail. It’s your dad.”
I stiffen. “What happened?”
“We shouldn’t talk about it here.”
“Marcus, what happened?” I ask again.
He glances around and lowers his voice. “I don’t know the details but... he might have... attacked somebody.”
My jaw drops. “Papa attacked somebody? Who?”
“Lance.”
I blink. “He attacked Lance?!”
“And now he’s asking for you.”
“Why would—”
I stop with a grunt as nausea plagues my gut. I bend forward slightly, breathing deeply until it passes.
Marcus takes a step back. “You okay?”
“Yep,” I say to the ground.
“Are you sure?”
I straighten up. “I’ll grab my purse.”
So much for a few quiet, stress-less hours.
I’ll relax when I’m dead.
Forty-Six
Trix
I walk in the visitor’s entrance of the jail with the loud thud of Marcus’ boots trailing close behind me. He overtakes me quickly and gestures toward the hallway past the chairs in the lobby where a guard stands, waiting for us.
My chest lurches. Lance sits in a chair in the corner. He’s leaning back with his eyes toward the ceiling holding a wad of tissues up to his nose.
“Lance?” I say.
He leans forward, following my voice. “Trix?”
I swing around Marcus. “Are you okay?”
Lance glances over my shoulder as I sit down in the chair next to him. “What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice muffled behind the tissues.
“Marcus told me Papa attacked you. What happened?”
“Ms. Argento,” Marcus says behind me. “We should—”
“I’m not leaving him like this,” I say, keeping my eyes on Lance. “And I’m not speaking to my father unless he has a damn good reason for this.”
Marcus hesitates for a moment before I hear his boots stomp off down the hall.
Lance smiles behind his tissues. “At least I look better than he does,” he says. “Who’d he finally piss off?”
“My brothers, as a matter of fact.”
“Really?”
“Turns out, far more effective than a restraining order.” I reach for his hand to guide the wad away. “Let me see...”
He lets his hand fall and I gasp at the purple bruise taking over his face and the dried blood stuck along his upper lip.
“It’s fine,” he says.
“No, it’s not fine. Why did he do this?”
Lance looks down. “After this morning, I came out here to try and make a deal. He declined.”
“By slamming your face into a wall?”
“A table,” he says.
“What kind of deal?” I ask.
“I told him to end his protection racket and work together with us to clean up the neighborhoods.” He presses along the edge of his nose, wincing slightly. “In exchange, I’d recommend a reduced sentence to the State’s Attorney.”
I raise a brow. “How reduced?”
“Three years.”
My heart skips. “That’s a really good deal.”
“It’s better than most.”
“And he didn’t take it?”
He taps his nose again. “Clearly not.”
“Why not?”
Lance pauses, his eyes slowly rising to meet mine. “Because I told him,” he says.
I ease back an inch. “Told him what?”
He tilts his head.
“Told him told him?” I repeat. “You told him about...” I point at my stomach.
“No,” he says. “Not that.”
I sigh with relief. “Thank god...”
“No, I told him that I... have feelings for you,” he says.
The panic in my chest subsides a little bit. “You told him you have feelings for me?” I ask, growing warmer.
“I...” he pauses, “might have used some stronger language than that.”
I furrow my brow in confusion. “Like...?”
“I told him I loved you,” he says, swallowing hard. “And that’s why I was giving him the deal.”
My voice breaks. “Because you love me?”
He nods. “Yeah.”
I try to say something more — literally anything — but my throat squeezes closed.
“It wasn’t fair,” he says. “I wasn’t fair to you before and I’m sorry. You told me and I just... It brought back some feelings that I thought I’d buried a long time ago.”
I bite my cheek, suppressing the sudden twist of sadness in me.
“And I couldn’t go through with the case,” he adds. “There will always be another case to set up a bid for State’s Attorney so I—”
I lean over and kiss him, crushing my mouth on his. He kisses me back, holding his breath while I caress his cheek.
I pull away to look him in the eyes as the words build on my tongue. “Lance, I...”
“Trix...” he says.
“Yeah?”
“That really hurt.”
I gasp. “Oh, god. I’m sorry!” I touch my face instead. “Are you okay?”
He laughs, gently pressing along the bridge of his swollen nose again. “I’m sure I’ll live,” he says.
“Do you need ice?” I turn toward the empty front desk behind the glass. “Can we get some ice over here?!”
“I’m okay, Trix,” Lance says.
“Are you sure?”
He lays his hand on mine. “I’m sure,” he says, making me believe him.
We both pause and gaze at each other. I exhale even more of the tension gripping my chest as warmth spreads through my fingers and toes.
“You scared me for a second there,” I say. “Thought I’d have to do this alone.”
Lance entwines our fingers. “You won’t.”
I smile. “Lance, I—”
“Ms. Argento.”
I look over my shoulder at Marcus hovering in the hallway. His eyes fall on our hands but he manages to maintain his new and improved professionalism.
“He wants to talk to you,” he says.
“Go,” Lance says. “I’ll be all right here.”
I squeeze his hand tighter as a sudden burst of anger sparks my senses. “No, you’re coming with me.”
His breath catches. “Are you sure that’s a good—”
I stand up. “Come on,” I say, pulling him out of his chair.
Marcus slides to the side, allowing the two of us to go down the hall ahead of him. Lance picks up his pace to meet mine, his palm going clammy before we reach the large room with tables. My father is nowhere to be found here. Instead, Marcus leads us all the way down to the next hallway to a small holding room.
The room is nearly full already. Gavin and Danny sit on one side of the table in the middle. Jerry hovers over their shoulders, staring down into the dark eyes of my father at the opposite side.
They all fall silent and turn in our direction as I walk in with Lance. My father’s glare instantly turns downward to our entwined hands while I notice that his wrists are bound to the table by handcuffs.
Good. I don’t want him going anywhere until I’m done talking.
I march up to the table and point at his face with my free hand.
“What the hell is the matter with you?” I ask.
He glan
ces over my shoulder at Lance. “Bea,—”
“Assaulting an ASA. Are you insane?!”
Jerry steps closer to me. “Now, Miss Beatrix—”
I target my finger at him and he instantly recoils. “Shut up, Jerry!” I turn back to my father. “Two things are about to happen. First, you are going to apologize to Lance.”
“Like hell I am,” he says. “I’m not saying one more word to the man who stole my daughter from me.”
“Nobody stole me from you, Papa. You abandoned me.”
Gavin speaks up, “Trix—”
I ignore him, raising my voice to talk over his. “You made it very clear what my purpose was to you and to this family. Lance is the only one who stepped up and made me feel like I belonged somewhere.” Tears sting my eyes but I force them away. “He’s a brilliant man and a wonderful father; one that you could stand to learn a thing or two from.”
My father’s silent, wicked sneer rises over my shoulders again toward Lance.
“And second,” I continue, “you are going to take his deal.”
His jaw flexes. “No, I’m not.”
“We are bad people,” I say, letting my eyes wander across their quiet, shocked faces. “This is a fact. But I’ve devoted my life to the belief that we can make a difference in people’s lives, that we can balance the bad we do with good. I want to finally tip the scale over and I’m not the only person in this room who does.”
I stand taller, feeling adrenaline racing through my toes.
“You will take the deal, you will do your time, and you will keep your nose clean while you’re inside so you can get out and meet your grandchild.”
“What grandchild?” He looks to my brothers but the two of them lean back, shaking their heads. “You?” he asks me.
I nod. “Yes.”
“You’re having a baby?”
“Yes,” I say again.
His eyes flick between us. “With this guy?”
“Yes. I am pregnant. Lance is the father.”
My father pauses, his face shrinking the more he thinks about it. “Well, why didn’t you just say so?” he mutters.
I roll my eyes, glancing back in time see Marcus’ face fall as the guilt stabs at him. At least, I hope it’s guilt. I hope he realizes that it was his dirty trick that led to this. He brought me and Lance back together. Guess I can thank him for that someday. Maybe.