Mister Monster: A Hero Club Novel

by Desiree Lafawn

  I ran then, jumping over the last sloppy half stack of pallets to get to them faster. “Don’t fucking touch her, you son of a bitch.”

  No one heard me. Neither of them were paying attention because in the second it took me to leap over that stack of wood, Church had twisted sideways, leaned back into a MuyThai pose, and with her knee bent, pushed that mother fucker straight into his thigh with the heel of her foot.

  I didn’t hear a bone break, but I probably wouldn’t have anyway, considering the unholy wail that rose from her attacker’s throat. She had no mercy for him. While he was doubled over in pain, she grabbed him by his grimy shirt and slammed his face down on her raised knee. She balanced on one leg like something out of a video game until he slumped over on the ground, unconscious. I half expected someone in the back to yell, “Finish Him,” but the guy looked fucking done already. Church picked up her bag from the ground, then she stopped to land a solid kick to the guy while he was on the ground. I flinched, but he was blissfully unconscious.

  “Find a better way,” she hissed over his prone form as she turned to face me.

  It was clear she had no idea I was there until that moment.

  “What are you doing here?” She had the gall to look irritated. Who was this woman? Was it the same woman that huffed out of my office about an hour earlier?

  “I heard you guys yelling from the street. I was coming to save you.”

  “Didn’t need saving.” She brushed past me and walked ahead of me, out of the alley and back into the sunlight. There were dirt streaks on her clothes and her hair was coming out of the smart bun it had been pulled in all day.

  “Yeah, no shit. I see that. Want to tell me how in the hell you let the same dumbass junkie get the drop on you on the same street as before? Did you learn nothing?”

  “My mind was occupied, you asshole. Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Her voice was angry, steady, but I could tell her hands were shaking. The purse strap in her hands waggled uncontrollably. She didn’t even notice.

  “Hey. Are you okay?” I put my hand on her shoulder to get her to stop walking for a second, but she dipped out of the way.

  “No. No touching. Don’t touch me.” And the shaking moved from her hands then, up her arms and onto her shoulders. She pretended it wasn’t happening, just kept walking ahead of me, her back straight and proud.

  “Okay, no touching. But let me take you home.” She was in shock, and no matter how hard she just beat that guy's ass, she still shouldn’t be alone. I wasn’t a monster. Not that kind of monster, anyway.

  Finally, she stopped walking and turned back to me. “You gonna run me there?”

  It was exactly what she’d said to me the last time, and it was so comical and out of place I laughed. “Well, I thought we’d walk, considering your shoes aren’t appropriate for a jog. But however you want to get there.” I held up my hand to stop her before she walked away and grabbed my phone from my pocket. “Just let me call the cops on this fucker first. He needs to be off the streets.”

  9

  Caroline

  He had manners; I’d give him that. He walked me the entire way home and when I invited him inside, as manners dictated, he sat quietly and waited while I took a shower and scrubbed my skin off in the hottest water possible.

  Ash didn’t scare me; not anymore. I wasn’t worried about him surprising me in the shower and trying to have his way with me. Nope. We’d actually gone that route already and not even two hours earlier had a mutual agreement to not touch each other again. Strictly professional. That was us. I hadn’t expected to see him until tomorrow morning, but I hadn’t expected to get mugged on my way home from work. Again. By a junkie. Again.

  Damn it. I cursed inwardly as I toweled myself off, rubbing roughly at my hair with the softest, most luxurious towels I could find. They weren’t as good as the ones I had back home, but they were soft and absorbent. When I’d sufficiently towel dried my hair, I threw on my pjs and walked into the living room, where Ash still sat on the L-shaped couch.

  “Is that…Snoopy?”

  I looked down at the oversized nightshirt that hung down to my knees. “Yeah. Ruby bought it for me when we were out shopping. She said it humanized me. Whatever the hell that means.” I wasn’t worried about looking scandalous in front of my boss. He’d already seen me naked. There wasn’t really anywhere else to go from there. He could handle me in a Snoopy sleep shirt. Or not. I didn’t give a rat’s ass.

  “I think I know what she meant. Listen, I’m not going to overstay my welcome. I just wanted to make sure you got home and you were okay.” Ash waved his hands in the air when I started to protest. “Yeah, I know, you handled yourself. You beat the hell out of that guy. Must be the city girl in you. What I mean is, are you okay?”

  I knew what he meant. I was fine physically, but was I fine in my mind? Emotionally? Sure, I was shaken up, anyone would be, but I didn’t think I was going to have a breakdown or anything.

  “I’m just tired. Exhausted, really.”

  He just stared at me for a moment, those gray eyes studying my face, trying to see through what I wasn’t telling him. But I spoke the truth. I was fine, and I would stay fine. I was Caroline Gower, and I kicked a guy’s ass today. And if my boss gave me any trouble, I might kick a guy’s ass tomorrow too.

  “Can I ask you where you learned those moves?”

  I didn’t expect him to ask that. I didn’t expect him to ask me anything personal. Not after the conversation we had at the office. “One of the first big projects I worked on was fundraising for a women’s shelter. The head of the project was teaching self defense to women as part of the programming for recovery. I watched a couple of her classes to get a feel for how she worked, and it stuck. I took some MMA classes when I had the time. I wish I could say I stuck with it, but I didn’t. My circle thought it was too base for someone of my social standing to engage in such violent activities.” I shrugged my shoulders. Those people actually didn’t matter anymore. I wondered if they ever really did. No one had tried to contact me since I moved. Not one phone call from a friend. Not one email. I wasn’t heartbroken over it.

  “Self defense was beneath them?” He sounded surprised, and not judgmental in the least like I expected. I thought for sure he would have something to say about me being mannish and violent. But he didn’t. Just asked like he was really interested in the answer. That was kind of nice.

  “Yeah, I don’t get it either, but it’s okay. I haven’t heard from any of them since I moved. And what I learned served me today, so who’s the fool?”

  “I’m taking you to work from now on. Home too.” His expression didn’t change. He just sat on the couch looking at me while I stared at his face, wondering if I actually heard the words that had come out of his mouth.

  “Say what now?”

  Ash stood up from the couch slowly and stretched, like he hadn’t a care in the world.

  “I said, I’m picking you up and dropping you off. Starting Monday. I’ll be here at seven thirty.” He turned to walk across the room toward the door. Was he really going to leave after dropping an order like that? Like some . . . boss of me? Hell no, this was my off time. He didn’t get to tell me what to do. My anger bubbled over and the rage that I’d been fighting off all day rose to the surface.

  “The hell you say. You’re not doing any such thing.”

  I rushed to stand between him and the door. He wasn’t rushing off after having the last word. No way. He stopped moving but didn’t say anything else in response to my outburst. “I’m serious, I walk to work just fine. It’s not even far. It’s fifteen minutes, tops. Just because I don’t have a car doesn’t mean I don’t have a way to work. And it’s not like I can’t afford one. I just never needed one back home.”

  “Oh, I know very well that you can afford anything your little heart desires. Which leads me to ask, what in the hell are you doing at Anderson Investments? You don’t need the job, you don’t need to work at all, so w
hat the hell are you doing here? And why is the owner, my boss, so hell bent on making me work with you?”

  “Maybe I’m just trying to find myself.”

  Ash rolled his eyes and frowned.

  “Maybe because you’re so stuck up and bossy someone needs to keep you under control?” I smiled. I knew it would needle him to no end, even though that’s pretty much exactly what Gabe told me about him.

  “Oh really? Someone needs to keep me under control? This coming from the woman who took her pantyhose off in her office on her first day of work, hiked her skirt up to her waist, and climbed a ladder with her almost nonexistent underwear hanging out?”

  Oh no he did not.

  “I thought I was the only one on the floor, and I thought we weren’t even going to talk about this anymore? How can you sit in your office and tell me we’re going to be professional, only to stand in my living room and throw it in my face?” God damn sonofabitch.

  “Because we aren’t in the office anymore, I don’t have to be professional right now, and the only thing I’ve been able to think about for two fucking weeks is your ass. It’s fucking perfect. You always look perfect, even in that ridiculous Snoopy nightgown.”

  He stepped forward and I stepped back until my back was pressed up against the door I’d just tried to keep him from opening. “What?” Did he say I was perfect?

  “What?” He looked surprised himself. “Look, forget it. What I said at the office stands. Professionalism from both of us, that’s all there can be. I know it, and you know it. But I’m not going to say it didn’t affect me, going for a run tonight and watching you get attacked in an alley. I don’t care how deadly your legs are, until you buy a car and start driving yourself, I’m picking you up and taking you home every day. Get it?”

  Get bent. “Why are you so infuriating?” He made me want to tear my hair out. I realized I was yelling, and I dared someone to pound on the ceiling to get me to quiet down.

  “Why don’t you listen to reason? Why are you so obstinate?” he thundered above me, a full foot and half taller than me. I hated that I had to crane my neck to yell at him. It’s why I always wore heels whenever I could.

  “Why do you think you can tell me what to do?” I poked my finger against his chest and his nostrils flared. The bull was waking up. Shit.

  “Someone fucking needs to.” And then his mouth was on mine and I had nowhere to go, my back pressed against the door and my hands caught between his chest and mine. He didn’t ask. No, he took, opening my mouth with just his tongue and the power of his jaws, pushing against me, giving no mercy. I should have pulled away. I should have fought, struggled, anything. But I didn’t. I reared up at him just as hard as he pushed into me, matching his force with my own. It was hard. I’d be bruised tomorrow, but I didn’t care. His kiss was the ocean, and I threw myself into it with every intention of drowning.

  He pulled away abruptly. So quickly it pissed me off. Didn’t he know how to end a kiss properly? Jesus. “You.” He picked me up by my arms and moved me several feet over before placing me on my feet. “Stop baiting me.”

  Baiting him? Wait? What?

  “Monday I will be here at seven thirty. I will call you once to remind you. If you don’t come down, I’m coming up to get you. End of story. And we will be professional. No more kissing. No more touching. No more…. whatever. Monday, you will get in the car.”

  And then he was gone, shutting the door hard and taking the apartment stairs two at a time. Or so I imagined. What the hell did he have to be pissed at? He kissed me.

  And I went to bed with the feel of his mouth on mine and went to sleep with his taste on my tongue. Professional. Damn. Fuck that shit.

  10

  Ash

  I like to think I have good reflexes, but there was nothing to prepare me for the bottle of hand sanitizer that binged off the side of my head as soon as I opened the door to Gigi’s little studio apartment. That coconut hitting the ground sound the plastic bottle made as it nailed the side of my temple was enough to make a sound effects producer drool.

  For me, it was just irritating.

  “Get out.”

  I barely recognized the angry, damn near hysterical pitch of her voice, but it was her, and it broke my heart.

  The harried aide rushed past me. Relief in her wide eyes, her scrubs wet down the front with an unidentified substance. As she came closer, I smelled it—applesauce.

  “Are you her grandson?” She ducked as a bottle of boutique body spray came flying across the room. She didn’t even wait for me to answer, just swatted the bottle out of the air and let it thud against the indoor/outdoor carpeting of the front room that also served as a bedroom. My Gigi was sitting upright, one arm bracing herself against the bedrail and the other scrambling franticly on the nightstand table, looking for more ammo. “Alice, knock it off. I called your grandson to see you, aren’t you happy?”

  “Elysia is trying to steal my papers,” she cried, her eyes turning to me with anger, confusion, and fear. She didn’t recognize me. I’d seen that look before. But she was angrier with the nurse than she was at me—the new stranger who’d entered the room.

  “I’m not trying to steal your papers, Alice. I don’t even know what papers you’re talking about, but I’ll help you look for them if you’ll stop throwing things at me.”

  A nail clipper came sailing through the air—it was a short shot, had no hope of meeting its intended target, so Elysia and I just stared at the small arc of silver before it too fell to the floor. She must have been getting tired.

  “Gigi, I won’t let anyone take your papers.” I didn’t rush toward the bed even though I wanted to. Not because I was afraid of her hitting me with anything, she couldn’t hurt me with her best effort. But I’d been here during episodes like this before. I was a stranger, and if I went toward her too quickly, it would only exacerbate her hysteria and take that much longer to calm her down. Alzheimer’s was a brutal disease, and it was shutting my grandmother down at a rapid pace. This was not my first rodeo.

  Neither was it Elysia’s, from the way she squared her shoulders and straightened her damp scrub top, not even bothering to wipe away the globs of fruit still clinging to her shirt. She talked to me even as she walked to the small countertop that served as the kitchenette in the room, and ripped off several paper towels, wadded them up, and started scraping at the applesauce soaking into the floor. Kitchenette was too grand a term for it, really. It was just a strip of laminate flooring against the left side of the room with a sink, some cupboards and a refrigerator. No microwave, no stove. I understood why patients like my grandmother needed to have a sense of independence, hence their single apartments with private bathrooms. She could not be trusted to remember to turn off a stove burner. And the probability of her sticking a fork or some other metal utensil in a microwave was high.

  She wasn’t stupid, but the disease taking over my grandmother made her forget simple things she’d known most of her adult life. It made her forget so many important things. Like people.

  Gigi threw nothing else, but still watched us warily, her thin, bony arms still braced against the rails on her bed that kept her from rolling out in the night. Sometimes my grandmother was just fine. You wouldn’t know anything was wrong with her. And sometimes…well, sometimes we had days like today, when the nurses called me to see if I could give her a sense of calm when she was spiraling out of control. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn’t.

  “Becky called me, I got over here as soon as I could.” As soon as I could was more like as fast as I could get away with on the highway as I lit out of the office like my ass was on fire.

  “That’s me, I called you.” The nurse pitched the wad of paper towels into the trash can by the bed, the light ball of cloth rolling around the outer edge of the can before sinking silently down into the center. “Swish,” she whispered to herself and smiled.

  What the hell was she smiling about after what I’d just walked in on?
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  “I beg your pardon?”

  She stuck out her hand and grinned. “I’m Becky, I called you. She just started acting like this, so not sure what triggered it, but I figured I’d get you down here to maybe calm her down before she worked herself up into needing medication to calm her down. Sometimes it’s a familiar face, even if she doesn’t think she knows who you are, that will settle what’s riling her up.”

  She busied herself around the room, bravely putting her back to my grandmother as she picked up the nail file that was thrown, then the perfume bottle, and lastly, the hand sanitizer I was brained with when I first entered the apartment.

  “But she called you Elysia.”

  “Yeah, she’s called me lots of things.” Becky, apparently not Elysia, continued walking around the apartment straightening things that were out of place, then walked to the fridge and pulled out another applesauce cup from the little drawer inside the door.

  “I don’t know anyone named Elysia.”

  “Yeah, I don’t either, but that’s a non-issue. I get called lots of things from patients when they are having episodes. That’s probably one of the more flattering ones.” She pulled an individually wrapped plastic spoon from the pocket of her scrubs and placed it on the nightstand next to my grandmother.

  “Are you still hungry, Alice?” My grandmother blinked owlishly for a moment, her eyes looking impossibly round in her thin face. Then she snapped.

  “I told you I was, Becky. Why are you asking me again?”

  Becky turned to me and gave a half smile, as if to say, I told you so. “I was talking to your grandson, but I have some applesauce for you if you’d like.” She peeled the foil top back for her, but Gigi sighed, exasperation apparent, and held her hand out. Becky placed the cup in her hand and wordlessly pulled the spoon out of the baggie for her. After handing that to her as well, she turned away from my grandmother again and nodded her head for me to come closer. Like the events of the past five minutes had never even happened, and maybe to my grandmother, they hadn’t. And it would be worse for everyone in the room if I tried to mention it.