by Rene Folsom
“No, my purse… it has a camera. Go get it!” I demanded, my voice hoarse with the lump that was forming in the pit of my diaphragm. Adrenaline shot through every nerve ending in my body as I stood, my hands braced on the solid table as I continued to repeat my request.
“Wait, your purse has a camera? Why the hell would your purse—”
“Does it really matter why? Just go get it! If he figures it out, he’ll take it!” I screamed, standing and pointing to the door, forcing some fire under the detective’s ass.
Without another word, he rushed out the door, obviously shaken by my words. Hell, I was shaken too, my hands trembling as I sat back down with a thump and clutched my stomach, the pain of loss consuming me. I could only hope I’d aimed the camera in the correct position, and they’d have all they needed to lock up the son of a bitch for what he did.
Yet, wasn’t it my fault to begin with? I knew I was setting him up for an argument. The fact that I lured him there specifically to egg him on about the blackmail surely had me in just as much fault as him. I was so stupid to think he’d keep his cool. Even around his mother, who he didn’t seem to give a shit for, how did I expect him to keep his anger at bay? I should’ve known that! And yet, I was the one who put her in danger to begin with. If anything, the cops would likely lock me up for starting the whole goddamn thing. Well, if they were smart, they would.
Covering myself with my arms, I attempted to hide from the barren walls, wondering who was peeking through the large mirror in front of me. My fingers grasped onto my midsection, the feel of cotton and polyester assaulting my senses.
I was wearing silk.
Looking down, I noticed Patty’s smock covering me, the frog pattern catching my attention as I spun the fabric between my fingers. She obviously cared much more than she’d let on, and I was grateful for it. Thank God I wasn’t stuck in this hellhole with my blouse ripped open, giving all the detectives a good show.
Liam was the only person in my world who was allowed to see me without my shirt on.
“Liam,” I whispered, wanting desperately to talk to him, tell him I was okay, something. Hell, he’d probably be the one who could tell them how to use the purse camera and get all the data off it. God forbid they screw it up and lose all proof I had of what happened.
I had to wait. I knew I had to just sit there and chill while the man fetched my purse. We’d originally planned to use a wire, figuring a voice recording would be enough to peg the bastard, but when Liam reached out to his buddy Tyson, the idea of the purse camera came about, and I was beside myself with nerves that it’d be too obvious. I couldn’t quite figure out how I was going to position the damn thing to record our encounter. Not only that, but considering Big Jim was usually outwardly pleasant, at least when we were around others, I worried I’d walk out of there with no evidence at all.
Boy, was I wrong.
Not only did I have enough evidence to peg the bastard for blackmail, but involuntary manslaughter as well. God. I’d never forgive myself for making my grams collateral damage in our stupid fight.
Interrupting my sorrowful thoughts, the detective walked in, no purse in hand, and sat in front of me.
“Okay, Maci, the techs are processing the data now, but I need you to tell me why you had your purse equipped with a digital recording device.” He was calm, almost too calm, as if he knew forceful words would only startle me some more. It wasn’t like I gave him much proof I could be a solid source of information, what with my blubbering and crying.
“It’s my fault we were in that room together,” I said, deciding honesty was the best. After all, my world was already shattered to pieces. No sense in worrying about saving my ass now. “She should’ve never been involved.”
He sat there, staring, the look of pity clear in his eyes. No judgment seemed to pass through his features as he continued to wait patiently for me to speak. I was grateful for his silence. At least it’d give me enough time to get all this off my chest.
“James Celeste was blackmailing me, withholding my ability to visit with his mother until I did something for him—stole something for him.” I pointed toward the closed door as if it’d strengthen the words coming from my mouth. “That camera was only intended to catch him in the act of blackmailing me. I was trying to get the information from him so I’d have proof. My only mistake was demanding to see her while I did it. I just missed her so much, and I honestly thought having her around would keep him calm.”
“What was he trying to get you to steal?” he asked, and it wasn’t lost on me that I didn’t even know this man’s name. He’d likely introduced himself to me when we first walked in, but my brain, filled with the fog of sorrow and pain, didn’t absorb the information.
Trying to hold the tears at bay, I recounted the whole story for him, even going as far as confessing my initial attempts to thwart Big Jim’s evil attempts to get his hands on the Specter headsets. It wasn’t long before they requested to bring Liam into the mix, to get his testimony as well, and very likely bail me out of whatever trouble I was in with all this.
I didn’t want to be here anymore, yet I knew leaving wasn’t an option. After all, her death was my fault, whether I was the one who pushed her or not. I deserved to sit here and rot. Punishment for my actions didn’t hurt me in the slightest.
No.
What hurt the worst was the realization I’d never be able to see her beautiful smile again. My heart would likely never survive the pain of losing her—never.
Chapter Twenty-One
Liam: Distractions
The rain was coming down hard as we rode in the car to the cemetery. The pattering of raindrops seemed loud while we drove in silence, Maci never once looking my way. Instead, she stared out the window, watching each drop of water splatter and drip against the glass, the vision seeming to match that of her tears.
I wished I knew what to do. I knew I couldn’t take the pain away, but if only I could mend it just a bit, make it easier to handle, then she’d be happier.
It broke my heart to see her at the police station that day, the day I got the call. She needed me in the most desperate way imaginable, her body collapsing in my arms as soon as she caught sight of me. It was the only time in my life I’d ever shed a tear, and I couldn’t even fathom how devastated she was feeling.
It didn’t take long for us to clear up the hows and whys of the purse camera, and soon after, I was able to take her home and clean her up. Blood stained her jeans and the skin of her hands. I hadn’t seen the video—they gave me some spiel about how it was now evidence, but just the thought he ripped her blouse open so savagely, all because he was suspicious of a wire, had my blood boiling. The man was lucky I wasn’t there to witness it, or he wouldn’t have even seen the likes of a trial. Hell, he would’ve been lucky to see the light of day again after I got through with him.
The man sure was lucky he was in custody at that moment. Just the memory he’d violated her in such a savage way had my insides coiling with anger and hate for the man. Tension made its way through my muscles, and I forced myself to take a few deep breaths, calming myself before she noticed my rage.
After leaving the station, I took her back to her place, helping her up to her apartment and into the shower, knowing she would never feel better until we got the blood off her skin. I nearly buckled at the sight of her scrubbing her skin raw as she cried. It was as if she couldn’t seem to get the surface clean enough, sobs wracking her shoulders each time she pressed harder. I gave her the space she needed, standing there and lending a hand only when she asked for it.
My stomach twisted in knots as I witnessed her break down, her back sliding down the shower wall, her ass hitting the floor of the tub. There was nothing I could do, nothing I could change to make it right, nothing I could fix. I couldn’t fix this for her, and it killed me.
I’d never forget the feeling of utter uselessness as I held her, the water turning cold while it beat down on our bodies, her salty te
ars mixing with the chilly, crisp spray.
Even worse, the papers and blogs seemed to get a kick out of plastering her private life around social media, making it hard for her to escape the watchful eyes of readers. Yes, they were all supportive, offering their condolences when appropriate. But, it still didn’t help her get past her sorrow and forget about things for even a few minutes. With her permission, I shut off all alerts from social media on her phone, hoping it’d help her cope on her own without the overwhelming attention of onlookers.
Now that we were on our way to the funeral, several days of nothing but pain filling the void between us, I wanted to find a way to heal her, or at least begin to mend her broken heart. There was just nothing I could do that would be even close to helpful. Anything I thought of seemed like a weak attempt for her attention rather than a way I could mend her broken heart.
Without looking at me, she reached over and grabbed my hand, squeezing lightly… in reassurance or discomfort, I wasn’t sure, but it was something at least. My heart swelled at the love I felt for her in that moment. Even going through the darkest of times, she still stayed strong.
It didn’t take long for us to pull up to the burial plot, a tent covering the hole in the ground, protecting it and a few chairs from the rain. Considering her grandmother didn’t really have any living relatives other than Maci and Big Jim, I wasn’t expecting the small gathering of people taking shelter beneath the tent. Hesitant as to whether we were even in the right place, I held my arm out for her, my other hand grasping tight to a large umbrella.
After seeing a few of the faces, I knew we were right where we should be. Sky was there, her blue hair subdued under a black hat, along with two other girls, a redhead and a brunette. They all sat in the chairs, their shoulders hunched over and their lips moving slowly as they spoke to each other. Another row back was a group of four nurses, their colorful smocks giving them away. I recognized one of them as a staff member from the home, though I’d bet they were all nurses Maci knew from there.
Her face lit up for a fraction of a second when she noticed the small gathering, the surprised look on her face showing just how touched she was that they showed.
I couldn’t help but think of Big Jim, wondering how things were going to go down once he showed his face today.
The man didn’t even bother to help pay for the funeral—Maci fronting all the expenses instead. We knew he posted bail the night of the accident, so it wasn’t like he was locked up and unable.
“Thank God he’s not here,” she whispered, her hand grasping my arm tighter, tension rolling off her in waves of pure anxiety.
“Let’s just hope he doesn’t show,” I said, placing a soft kiss to her forehead before closing the umbrella and stepping beneath the tent.
“That wouldn’t surprise me one bit.” The bite in her voice would’ve made me chuckle if the circumstances weren’t so bleak. Considering the situation, I stifled my laugh. Yeah, he’d never been one to spend time with his mother when she was alive. To be surprised he’d skip out on her funeral would’ve been dumb.
“I’m so glad you guys came,” Maci said, leaving my side and reaching for the nurses, hugging each one. The black lady I recognized from the home had tears in her eyes, her connection with Maci stronger than I would’ve expected. Reaching her arm out to me, she gestured for me to take her hand. “Ladies, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend. Liam, this is Patty, Jasmine, Tonya, and Jennifer. They’ve been nothing but sweet to my gram since she moved in.”
“Nice to meet you.” My voice came out weaker than I’d expected, so I cleared my throat, unsure of what to say next as I shook each of their hands. I wasn’t much for crowds, and the situation already felt so damn awkward. Part of me wanted to express my gratitude to the women who took such good care of Maci and her grandma, but the words just didn’t sound right coming from me.
“And Liam, these are my friends,” she said, gesturing to the three other ladies. “Of course, you know Sky. And this is my editor, Samantha, and my photographer, Sofie,” she added, gesturing first to the brunette, and then the redhead.
Ahh, now I remembered where I saw them. They were at Maci’s photo shoot when I had to come cheer her up.
“It’s great to officially meet you guys,” I said, foregoing the handshakes and pulling them in for hugs. I must’ve taken all three of them by surprise, especially Sky, since she knew I wasn’t much of a hugger. But I was truly grateful Maci had such good friends.
The rest of the funeral went as usual, the sorrow hanging around us like a thick fog. It wasn’t like we had an attachment to the lady being buried necessarily. Instead, our sorrow was for the beautiful woman standing over the casket, a single rose twirling around in her fingers as she cried silent tears. The sadness threatening to suffocate us all wasn’t because we lost a loved one, but because we loved the woman who was clearly broken—devastated beyond comprehension.
Maci didn’t want to plan a get-together or dinner afterward, the funeral being enough to sate her need for companionship. I took that as my cue to give her space. My plan was to drive her home and give her distance. I figured, if anything, she’d need some time to digest all that had happened, take a moment to process all the changes in her life. She didn’t need me moping around, stealing her attention when all she probably wanted to do was mourn her loss.
Once at her condo, I pulled into the circle by the door, my soul aching at the idea of leaving her. When I put the car in park, ready to lean over and give her a kiss, she turned to me, her eyes wide in her hollow-looking expression.
“You’re not coming up?” she said, her voice full of surprise as the words whispered past her lips.
“Oh… I can if you want me to. I just wasn’t sure if you needed some alone time,” I admitted, hopeful she’d actually want me.
Leaning toward me, her body bent over the center console, she fisted her fingers into my shirt, pulling me, the buttons threatening to bust at her force. “Please… please stay with me.” Her whispered plea was felt through every nerve in my body, the sound of her tortured voice ensuring I’d do anything to take her pain away.
“Of course I will,” I agreed. Before I could get another word out, she crushed her mouth to mine, her kiss overwhelming me with desperation and need.
Breaking away to breathe through her mouth, her nose clearly still stuffy from all the tears she’d spilled throughout the day, she looked me in the eyes and said, “I need you to stay.”
“Okay.” The response may’ve sounded weak, but it was the only sound I could muster as I put the car in drive and made my way to the visitor parking.
I felt all kinds of nervous as I followed her through the doors and into her condo. It was almost like this was our first date all over again, and I had to walk on eggshells to make sure she liked me, to make sure I wouldn’t be an overbearing guy she couldn’t wait to get away from.
She said she needed me though, and I was damn sure going to be here for her, no matter what.
Maci looked so beautiful, her silhouette slowly padding through the room, dusk on the horizon causing muted shadows across the open space. I stood just inside the door, watching her, assessing the situation and trying to figure out what I should do next. With careful consideration, I observed her, testing the waters to make sure I acted right.
Maybe I was worrying about it too much, but part of me was concerned she’d consider me heartless if I was able to just move on in life as if nothing had ever happened. Then again, maybe she needed that distraction.
When she popped on a few lights, I continued to track her movements. My jaw nearly dropped while I watched her bend over to grab something from the fridge, her batman tattoo peeking out from the top of her pants. The memory made me smile.
I hated how awkward I felt in her home. After all we’d been through, I should feel comfortable, carefree. But when I saw her sorrowful eyes trace over her surroundings and then back to me, handing me a chilled bottle of water as she did so
, I could tell she wasn’t comfortable either.
I didn’t have to ask. She could tell, reading me as always, that I knew something was up.
“She used to live here with me… a few years ago, before Big Jim put her in that home. That was her chair—her blanket,” she said, lazily gesturing toward the recliner. “I always had some hope she’d come back. Now that I know that’s never going to happen, it’s going to be hard to adjust.”
Offering her my hand, I squeezed hers lightly, letting her know that I was there, I was listening.
“Ahh, I should stop bringing you down.” She let go of me, shaking her hand as if she’d touched something unpleasant. I knew it was just her discomfort making her act this way, but the motion still stung a bit.
Me and my goddamn ego. She needed a distraction. But what?
“Maci, no matter what you need to talk about—good or bad—I’ll always be here for you,” I said honestly, grabbing hold of her hand again to affirm my words. She answered me with a soft smile, biting her lip to try and hide it.
“So, what would you like to do?” she asked just before taking another swig of her water.
“Well, I know what always distracts me when my mind is filled with unpleasant things.” The waggle of my eyebrows must’ve tipped her off, because she let a giggle erupt from her chest. Damn, I missed that sound. I hadn’t heard it in what seemed like ages.
“And what is that?” she asked, the giggles gone and only a half smirk playing at her lips.
“How about a round of Super Smash Bros?”
Her answering nod was the only affirmation I needed to know she was game.
Chapter Twenty-Two