My Sister's Murderer

by Liv Bennett

  Eleven a.m. shouldn’t be a difficult time to make it to work on time, yet here I am, only making it to the door at eleven on the dot. An eerie silence and suspicious eyes welcome me to the restaurant.

  Erin is busy with the table setups, and Lena seems to be checking the cleaning work of the night crew. Fran isn’t around.

  My attempt at starting small talk about the warm weather yields me only quick head bobs. Max comes dashing out of his office and points his finger at me, looking particularly cranky. “You. In my office. Now.”

  My eyes fly to the clock on the wall. It’s only one after eleven. Aren’t I supposed to arrive at eleven? I did. What else could he be mad at me for?

  He waves his hand for me to hurry. I don’t even get a moment to take off my jacket or leave my purse.

  Lena winces visibly and mouths you fucked up in a whisper on my way to Max’s office. From the irritated look on Max’s face as he waits holding his office door for me to pass, I can only confirm Lena’s suspicion. I seem to have fucked up pretty badly; only I don’t know exactly how I did it.

  I duck my head while walking through his doorway and come to a sharp stop when I spot Fran sitting on one of the two chairs available before Max’s desk. She has tears in her eyes.

  Max closes the door with a bang as if making a statement about the level of his anger. He must be fuming. “Fran told me something very upsetting. I’m very disappointed in you, Ashley. Very disappointed.”

  I glance at Fran then at Max, clueless as to what I could have done to upset them both so badly.

  “What is the problem?” I ask, my voice low, cracking at the end.

  “You have to ask!” Fran scolds.

  “You should know I don’t tolerate this kind of behavior at my workplace,” Max goes on with his cryptic talk. If only he would just tell me what I did wrong, I could apologize.

  “Could you please tell me what I did wrong? I really don’t know what’s happening.” I ask hesitantly.

  “So, you’re admitting you did it more than once!” Fran says, her eyebrows arched in shock.

  “No!” I yell, feeling trapped. “I just don’t know what I’m accused of.”

  Max walks toward me, chest puffed up like of a rooster. “Fran here says she made fifty-five dollars from tips last night. Before closing, she went to the restroom, left her purse by the sink with you while she went into the toilet, and came out to find her fifty-five dollars gone.”

  I swallow, trying to make sense of his words. “What are you trying to say?”

  Fran responds to my inquiry with a loud with sobs. “She did it. She stole my money. Check her purse. I bet it’s still in there,” she screams while shedding her crocodile tears and pointing at my purse. Her accusation renders me speechless because I have exactly fifty-five dollars in there, the leftover amount after she stole eighty-five dollars.

  Without my permission, Max yanks my purse off my shoulder and goes through its contents. When he slips the notes out and counts them to find exactly fifty-five dollars, that’s enough proof for him.

  “That’s the money I made from tips last night.” My explanation falls on deaf ears, and Max hands my hard-earned money to Fran, who wipes her tears and accepts the notes with a fake thankful smile.

  I’m perplexed as to how he can believe such a lie. The money is mine, and Fran is the real thief. She not only stole my money but came back to blame me for thievery and gets the rest of my money? What a low-life cunt!

  My sister went from a calm life with her parents to a hellhole with scumbags and whores. As horrified as I am at the turn of events, I feel I’m on the right track to discovering the reason behind her death.

  Now that he’s established his hero status in Fran’s eyes, Max sounds tender when he tells Fran she can go back to work. After she leaves the office, Max closes the door. I hear him turning the lock. My heart leaps against my chest. What is he going to do to me in a locked-up office?

  When he turns back to me, his eyes are sinister, roaming down my body with a corrupt gaze. “I can call the police right now. They’ll put you in jail with no questions asked. Your life will be ruined with a theft on your record.”

  “I didn’t do anything. She’s lying. You don’t have any proof for the police.”

  He shakes his head, furious at being challenged. “You think that can stop me? You stole money from your colleague. I have friends. I can make it impossible for you to find a job in all of northern Colorado. I can ruin you.” His words seem to awaken his malicious side; his breathing deepens, louder, and angrier.

  I swallow; fear of what he can do to me now, of what he can do to me later, growing like wildfire inside me. He takes measured steps toward me and licks his lips as he smiles a victorious grin. He has me cornered, and he knows it. My brain is paralyzed; so is my body. I know just from his creepy gaze at my chest, he’ll take advantage of my fear and uncertainty. I see what’s coming. Even so, I’m frozen in place.

  “But…” He stops an inch away from me and exhales, his disgusting breath hitting my face. My skin crawls.

  “I can make it all go away.” He points with his chin toward my breasts and his hands slowly reach for his belt.

  My eyes grow large in shock, although his depraved intentions for me were clear since day one. His grin widens, and he licks his lips.

  I need to get out of here and never come back. My feet disobey, unable to move as if nailed to the floor.

  I think of my sister. I think of my future. I stay.

  “Unbutton your dress,” he whispers and pulls his belt back, undoing it, then reaching for his button. I hear him unzip, the long scratching sound grating on my ears. He’s practically drooling while staring at my chest, his hand sneaking down into his boxers.

  My stomach revolts; my breathing becomes labored.

  “Hurry!” he hisses between his teeth, his patience running out. I close my eyes when I notice his hand coming out of his pants while squeezing his junk. I can’t take the sight of it. I’ll throw up. But, my hands…they move up to the neckline of my dress. They fucking grab the first button.

  My mind is whirling as if the floor has been yanked from beneath me.

  I didn’t do anything. I didn’t steal. But he can ruin me. He already is.

  Loud bangs sound at the door, startling me, snapping me out of my shock. What’s just happened? Max hurries to zip himself up and fix his belt as he rushes toward the door.

  “Yes?” he yells, furious.

  I notice the bulge under his jeans. My stomach turns upside down.

  “Is Ashley in there? I need her at the front desk. Guests are arriving.” It’s Erin, my savior.

  Max shoots me a frantic glare, looking unsure of what to do. Should he let me go or get me down on my knees? I straighten my shoulders, finally having regained control of my feet and my will. I stalk to the door, not giving him a chance to stop me.

  Unlocking the door myself, I practically throw myself out of his stinky office. I don’t look at Erin. Everything disappears around me as I storm to the front door. I need fresh air.

  I’m mad at myself. More than Fran, more than Max, my rage is boiling over at my own weakness. She lied, and Max had no proof. Why didn’t I protest? Why didn’t I stand up for myself? Why did I surrender so fast? I was going to let him violate me. It’s such a specific pain, the sheer disappointment in myself, failing my own persona.

  If it wasn’t for Erin’s timely interruption, I was going to unbutton my dress and strip in front of him. My stomach is on the verge of erupting.

  I run. I run without knowing where just to get away from myself.

  A sight stops me. A familiar face. Two twinkling eyes.

  Ch 11

  Hot Coffee On A Sweater

  It’s Austin in a coffee shop. After all the time I’ve been longing for him; I bump into him now when I’ve just been to hell and back? His lips curl into a grin, soothing, calming. I remember how he eased my panic on the highway, how thrilling our donuts
were, how warm his lips felt on mine.

  My anger ebbs, my shoulders relaxing. I wave at him, finding myself again, a shy smile emerging on my lips. Then, I notice a hand moving to his arm, fingers with long red nails encircling his wrist, a head with blonde hair approaching his.

  My mouth opens. I’m stunned.

  He’s with a woman, sitting together, enjoying coffee and croissants, while he had a breakfast date with me just two days ago, flirting, talking about my wifely qualities. No wonder he had a woman’s cardigan lying around in his car just when I needed one.

  A wave of trembling takes over my body. This is my life; a hell where corrupt men are running the show. I start to turn, to escape the pain, to evade the humiliation. My anger flares back. Why? Why do I have to be the one to run? I did nothing wrong. He did.

  I didn’t steal, but I came close to letting Max rape me. That was a one-time mistake. I was in shock. I didn’t know any better. I’ll be a fool if I let men walk all over me again.

  My chest burning with fury, I stomp toward the coffee shop, yank the door open with the scorching blaze of anger bubbling through my veins. Everything fades except for his face that now seems to be frozen and no longer smiling. His new girl startles in her seat when she sees my finger pointing at Austin’s face.

  “You!” I say with all the hurt and rage in my voice. “You’re a jerk.” The low rumble of noise inside the café dies down to complete silence. “No, you’re worse than a jerk. You played with me. You pursued me shamelessly. You made me like you. I’ve been waiting to hear from you only to see you’re on a date with another woman? Without telling me you’re done with me? Fuck you!”

  My eyes land on his coffee cup. The jerk has a fancy blue porcelain cup for his coffee. It seems I have my own version of a sinister side because I don’t blink an eye when I grab his fancy-ass cup full of hot coffee and splash it onto his expensive sweater.

  He jumps back, but a split second too late and gets soaked with coffee. “What the hell!”

  I turn to his date, who’s staring at me with a paralyzed expression and fearful smile. “Now you know what kind of jerk you’re dating. You’re welcome.”

  Avoiding any eye-contact with the rest of the guests who’re all speechless and watching me, I storm out of the coffee shop. My heart rate is through the roof, my breathing too fast; there’s not enough air. I inhale the crisp, cool air deeply, filling my lungs over and over again to catch my breath while blindly running down the sidewalk.

  What will I do now? My plan to follow in my sister’s footsteps couldn’t have failed more miserably. I can’t go back to work at the restaurant from hell with the colleagues of Satan. My time at the hotel is running out. I’ll be homeless by the end of the week if a miracle doesn’t happen. The report I filed at the police department won’t produce anything meaningful. I might as well pack my bags and go…although I have no place to go.

  Cold air hits me, sending a shiver down my body. Oh, shit! I’ve forgotten my jacket and purse at work. I stop to look to see where I am because in my haste to get away from Austin, I didn’t even notice in which direction I’d been running.

  The touch of a hand on my shoulder makes me jump in my tracks. My body is still tense, and I turn sharply, my hand poised to punch.

  “Whoa, whoa, easy!” Austin leaps back to escape my hand. His black sweater is wet from neckline to hem, I notice in grim satisfaction.

  I step back too, not wanting him to affect me. “What do you want? If you came to apologize, it’s too late.”

  “I didn’t do anything that requires an apology.”

  “Oh, yeah? Was the woman you were having coffee with your sister?”

  “No.” He smiles an easy grin, intensifying my irritation. “She was my date.”

  I’m at the end of my wits. Why am I even having this conversation with him? I roll my eyes at him and turn around, effectively ending the nonsensical talk. His hand lands on my shoulder, stopping me again, the jerk.

  “What!” I roar.

  “That night, after our kiss, I was going to give you my phone number, but I couldn’t think at that moment. I left you a note at the reception desk with my phone number on it. I thought you’d call. I was out of town yesterday helping a friend move, but I called the reception desk to ask if you received my note. They said yes. I called your room around seven this morning and left a voice mail, too. When I heard nothing back, I figured you weren’t interested in me anymore.” He shrugs, his eyes tender.

  “I never received a note from you.” And I didn’t receive a call, either.

  “I’m sorry if you thought I moved on. I had the date with Lucia set up from before I met you. She texted me to confirm our date an hour ago. I wasn’t interested in her anymore, but I said yes because I hate flakes and didn’t want to be one.”

  I wince at my earlier show of outrage. He must think I’m crazy. To be honest, I was. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “I’d accept an apology.” He takes a long step toward me, closing the distance between us, his hands reaching for my shoulders, not a single trace of hesitation or fear on his face about the crazy side of me he’d just witnessed.

  “I’m sorry.” I throw myself into his arms and wrap my arms around his waist. I don’t care about his wet sweater and bury my face in his chest. The bubbling turmoil inside me has my tears pushing their way out, and I allow them to flow, let my bottled-up sobs free.

  I don’t remember the last time I cried while hugging someone. Probably never. I trained myself to hide my tears. Bathrooms or dark corners are the only places I let my sorrows free. I never felt close enough to someone to allow myself an emotional letdown in front of them. This feels like freedom. Acceptance. And scary.

  He doesn’t run away from me—from my tears—as I fear. Instead, he rubs my back up and down, calming strokes, cathartic kneads. “You’re ice-cold. Why are you outside without a coat?”

  “I left the restaurant in a hurry,” I murmur into his chest.

  “Why?”

  I swallow the lump of fear and shame. “Something happened.”

  His hands on my back stop their soothing massage. “What?”

  I tell him everything, from the busy night, the tips I made, the bathroom visit, the missing money, to the accusations of today, but I omitted the part with Max. I can’t pinpoint why. Maybe I didn’t want him to think less of me, the tarnished me. I didn’t want to admit I almost went along with Max’s intentions , and if it weren’t for Erin, I would have. He’d picture me unbuttoning my dress while Max reached down for his junk. I was weak and downright stupid, and I didn’t want him to know.

  My earlier fury passes onto him. His jaw tightens, and his muscles tense. He’s breathing loudly through his nose, his teeth clenched.

  “Let’s go back to the restaurant.” He starts toward the restaurant without waiting for my answer.

  I grab his wrist. “Why? I don’t want to. I can’t see them again.” Max’s sinister grin, his hand disappearing into his boxers…My stomach revolts anew.

  “You have to.” Taking a long breath, he catches my hand holding his wrist and laces his fingers through mine, our touch calming us both.

  We walk at a steady pace, not running, but not leisurely either. He opens the restaurant door and enters first, like my own personal shield. His fingers are tight around mine, or I’d never find the courage to enter.

  Fran is at the front desk, while Erin and Lena are waiting the few tables with guests.

  “Is Max in his office?” Austin asks, his voice restrained.

  Fran’s eyes bulge out and her voice trembles when she musters a “Yes.”

  “Come with us. I need a word with you.” Austin motions with his head toward Max’s office.

  Her fear abundantly clear on her pale face, Fran follows us, head down on her chest, walking the walk of shame toward her fate.

  Austin literally kicks open Max’s door, the sudden intrusion having Max on his feet with a horrified jolt. His jaw
drops, as he tries to get out of his chair. “Austin, what are you doing here?”

  “Came here to clarify a problem.” He lets go of my hand, and I almost fall, like a frail leaf against a storm. He walks around the desk and claims Max’s table. “Let’s take a look at the security cameras.”

  There were security cameras available, and Max believed Fran’s accusation without even checking to see if she’d been telling the truth or lying?

  “What? You can’t do that,” Max says but can’t do anything to stop him.

  “Really?” Austin shoots him a censuring look before returning his gaze to Max’s computer. I wonder where he finds the confidence to go through someone else’s computer. I don’t inquire.

  Several minutes pass while he searches Max’s computer then he turns the screen toward us, for all three of us to see what really happened in the bathroom. I wasn’t wrong in my assumption. Fran stole my money.

  “Good thing I insisted on keeping the security cams in the bathroom.” Austin’s deadly eyes find their way to Fran. “Give Ashley the money you stole from her. Then get your stuff and get the fuck out of my restaurant. If I ever see you close to Ashley again, I’ll hand this video over to the sheriff myself.”

  Fran gives a quick nod to him and fishes out her purse in her apron, coming up with exactly one-hundred-and-forty dollars.

  “Apologize!” Austin orders.

  “I’m sorry,” Fran says with trembling lips and hands me back the money she stole from me. If she’d just left it at stealing my money, I’d have kept my mouth shut. But blaming me for something I wouldn’t dream of doing and then exposing me to a sadistic rapist?

  I smirk at her smugly. She didn’t expect this turn of events.

  Austin stands. “Now leave and never come back.”

  Fran obeys and dashes out of the room on shaky legs, exactly how I was a few minutes ago. Austin advances on Max, punching the air with his index finger as he jabs it in Max’s face. He stops very close to the lowlife, looking down at his pathetic eyes with rage. “This is the last strike before you’re fired, Max. You’re walking a fine line. Do you understand me?”