Pieces of Truth

by Angela Richardson

  “Because I can’t see or talk to Samuel. Because if I do, he will be severely hurt. My father gave me a final warning. He is still my friend. It would kill me inside. Why does no-one understand that!” My voice cracked as I poured out my frustration to Josh, and unexpected tears began to fall from my eyes.

  “Oh my God Norah, I’m so sorry.” Josh walked over, grabbed my hands, and pulled me against his chest. “Of course I understand why you can’t do anything. You care so much for the people in your life. You don’t want anyone to be hurt because of your Dad. I see why this would be such a stressful situation. I’m sorry you are caught between a rock and a hard place.” I nodded into Josh’s shirt, my tears staining the cotton fabric. Josh kept talking to me, trying to soothe my state. “I wish I could help you Norah, I wish I could take this pain and anguish away for you.” His hand began rubbing my back as I steadied the flow of frantic emotions inside me. I stopped crying and looked at Josh.

  “I wish you could help me, but just having someone understand is really what I need right now. You always understand Josh.” The way I said that felt off this time. Normally when I thanked Josh for his support, it felt like I was thanking a member of my family, but now, it was like I was comparing Josh to Clint, feeling more of the weight of his actions. I was seeing it as romantic rather than just friendly.

  I buried myself in Josh’s chest again, and began inhaling the scent of his cologne as we hugged some more. Josh didn’t seem to mind, he only encouraged me to hold on tighter. Finally, as my distress eased, my sensibility returned, and I pushed away from Josh. He looked at me as if to say, “come back,” but I kept my distance.

  Josh looked over to Samuel’s gift on the kitchen counter, and then back to me. “Let’s deal with one problem at a time, OK Nor? Now let me go over what you’ll need to do tomorrow night at Club Seil, which reminds me, you are going to need a pass.”

  Pass?

  Chapter 6

  The Past

  ~ ~ ~

  Dear Norah,

  If you are reading this, you’ve probably gone straight home from seeing me off at the airport and to your bedroom, so you can sit in the darkness and listen to your music. I wanted you to read this after I left, which is why I put it under your iPod in your room.

  Firstly - I miss you already. Since we’ve been thirteen, I don’t recall a week without seeing your face or hearing your voice. It’s going to be extremely hard for me not being around you. I’m already having massive withdrawals as I write this to you, knowing I’ll be in the air, and not within walking distance of your home. There is a sadness in that realization I wish I could truly convey to you.

  I know I left very abruptly after my parents’ funeral, but I couldn’t bear to be in New York a moment longer. I needed to leave, and rather than wait until next week for orientation, I decided to go early and get settled into McLaren University. I hope you understand my decision to leave. I do regret leaving you all alone in the city with your Dad, and everything around him. I know what you live with every day and how hard you fight to stay strong. I wish I could still be there to help you stay on course, but I have faith that your strength runs deep, and that you are capable of holding onto the light that keeps you smiling. I know you can lean on your art and your, ah...Glock, if you need to. Those outlets have always helped you not lose control, although, I am still worried. You know how I worry. So please take care of not letting your emotions spiral. Your episodes were scary, even for me, and I witnessed many. I don’t think anyone else can handle them the same way, although I’m confident you know your triggers and will try to ensure you stay on top of it.

  I’ve written this because, well...there are so many things I’ve wanted to say to you. I think we were both scared of talking about how we both really feel. We didn’t talk about such things because we both saw what your father is capable of, and what we could lose. We never spoke about ‘that’ day, but we both know - don’t we? I just wish we had that chance to say the things we always wanted to say. Maybe one day soon we will.

  Norah, when I think of you, I remember how much you shared with me. How much you trusted me when you spoke about your Dad and your Mum. You once told me that you wished you knew your mother; wished you could have heard her voice and known what kind of person she was. You used to tell me all the time how much you wished and wished for that. Well Norah, all you need to do is look in the mirror and there she is. I believe wholeheartedly that anyone as beautiful as you, both inside and out, must have come from a person exactly like you. I have no doubt in my mind, that everything special about you, comes from your mum. You don’t need to wonder about her, because she is every bit a part of you. The best parts. She is with you when you sketch, when you laugh and when you cry. I know she would be proud of the magical woman you have become, and I hope deep down, you believe that.

  Please don’t be scared when I’m not around. You are a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for. I will always be a phone call, letter, email or text away. I know that you are already planning a trip for me to come home, but I don’t know if that’s possible for a long time. I just can’t. The loss of my parents, as well as all the money. I won’t be alright until I regain my own strength of character and find who I once was. Their death and their debts; it’s so much, so fast. The shock is still consuming me. Leaving New York was the only way I could make their voices in my head seem less real and less devastating. I need to detach myself from that reality or I won’t end up being the guy who’ll always be there for you. I’ll just be a sad shell of a poor guy, and you deserve more than that. You deserve better than that. And I want to be that man for you. I believe I can become something like the guy you looked at with all the hope in the world, like on that day we never speak of. Norah, I want to make sure when you see me again, I’ll have passion, confidence, direction and strength. All the qualities that you love in a person.

  So I am off to a new college, on a new adventure. I did a lot of research about McLaren before I applied. I really think it will be a good fit for me in helping to achieve what I want. Maybe after my time here, I’ll be able to come back and things will be different for us. Maybe I’ll be able to have the conversation with you I’ve always wanted to have. There will be a moment when the time is right for us, when there will be no reason to hide from what we really feel, and when nothing, and no one will be in our way.

  You are my best friend, my soul mate, and the only person in the world who gives me hope that I might find happiness again out of all this pain.

  You’ve always been the girl worth fighting for, and one day, I know I’ll be fighting for you.

  I’ll call you when I land.

  Your best friend who will always be thinking of you,

  Josh.

  Chapter 7

  Club Seil

  ~ ~ ~

  Clint wasn’t surprised when I turned him down again for another evening out with the Lappell. Being part of the New York chapter, as well as working for Harkin and Partners, made it mandatory for Clint to attend all meetings, mixers and social activities. Kyser Harkin was the president of the New York chapter of the Lappell and was, as it turned out, also Clint’s boss who had secured Clint his job in New York. Clint originally thought he had found himself a job that was set apart from the Lappell, thinking he could make his mark on his own from his family name and the Lappell’s influence, but he soon discovered after we arrived, he had walked straight into their fold. He had considered leaving them to try his luck with another business, but with their eyes set on Clint, he knew he would be turned away from all other companies, so for the time being, he felt he was stuck. I tried to see the bright side for Clint and told him these social activities should be considered a perk. It was some fun mixed with business, but Clint always shook his head, saying that he would much rather be home with me than at random clubs and restaurants. He was always sweet like that.

  I did, with all my heart, want to wholly trust him, but now, because of a stupid piece
of paper, the seed of doubt was planted in my mind. Tonight I was about to go out and surprise Clint to see if I could catch him doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing. Even wearing slick black pants and a sequined designer halter top, my long black hair cascading down my back, with a fresh-faced complexion and smoky eyes, looking all done up - I still felt really really dirty. “This is not me,” I said to myself. “I’m not the type of girl to spy on her boyfriend.” I started to untie my halter top as I stood in the middle of my bedroom, but then stopped and sighed. Yes, the idea was ridiculous. Yes, the idea would probably lead to nothing, but I needed to do something. I couldn’t keep on wondering about that fucking note. It was doing more harm than good to our relationship. My heart was being led astray and not towards the direction of Clint.

  I re-adjusted my halter top back to its rightful position, and slipped on my silver Louboutins. I needed answers and I was out of possibilities for what that note could mean. I had come up with a million different ideas, all from my far-fetched hyper-imagination, with nothing seeming to fit with Clint’s personality and actions. It all felt like a lost cause, a dead-end, but I knew I needed to do this, even if it just helped my peace of mind.

  I stepped into the hallway outside the apartment and closed the door. I bargained with my conscience that if I found nothing of substance tonight, I would forget about the stupid note and get on with my life with Clint. He was so sure about me, and he had a big shiny rock in his sock drawer to prove it. I needed to get my head straight and stop obsessing about what could be and go with what I knew. He deserved more than this, especially given my behavior the other morning. I was still feeling guilty about my dangerous flirting with Josh. Going on a spy mission directed at Clint was sending my guilt level far and beyond what I could deal with. I was starting not to feel like my old self. I was becoming all different shades of strange and acting more and more like the type of girl I hated. I didn’t want to be so paranoid and insecure. I needed to fix this so-called problem, and stop flailing about with all these mixed emotions.

  Josh had given me very specific instructions about getting into Club Seil. Seil? Seil? What kind of name is that?

  Club Seil was situated between Fifth and Madison Avenues, only a few blocks away from our apartment. I took a cab and got out just past the club, trying my best to keep a low profile. There was already a long line of dolled-up patrons waiting outside the entrance where a couple of bouncers and a hostess stood. The two-story building had a rough black stone exterior which made it look gothic. Even the doorway into the building had wrought iron fixtures which reminded me of a medieval castle at night.

  The hostess standing near the door was holding an iPad, and she had dead straight blond hair, wearing an electric-blue Herve Leger dress. I walked past the line, and straight up to the hostess to give her my name, but as soon as her eyes met mine, she nodded and said, “You need to go up to level two. I hope you have your pass and identification.” I nodded back to her. She tilted her head towards one of the two bouncers on her right side. “Clarence, you will need to escort her to the elevator and up to two, but you will need to see Lucille first.” A huge man with a buzz cut and wearing a very smart suit, nodded back to the blond.

  “Follow me,” he said, his voice low and gruff. The queue began to erupt in to sounds of boos and hisses, but as the blond lifted her head to look at them, they instantly silenced. Not the type of establishment that tolerated anything less than classy behavior.

  I started following the huge bouncer called Clarence. “Once you are finished up top, feel free to check out this level’s jazz bar, or perhaps the dance bar in the basement level,” Clarence said as I kept pace behind him. He then stopped and turned, looking back at me, making sure I understood what he just said. I smiled up to the man with the towering wide body.

  “Oh, sure. Sounds good. I will.”

  He half laughed as he turned back down the hall and continued to walk. He led me down a side hall way to an adjoining room where a woman sat behind a table with a laptop and a scanning device, next to a set of gold-trimmed elevator doors.

  Really – gold-trimmed elevators doors?

  “Miss Ross I presume?” she said, watching me walk towards her. The girl, who looked only a few years older than me, had a very short and edgy blond bob with striking cat-like eyes and a round face. She was wearing black pants and a white vest top. I was sure she noticed the uneasiness in my stride as I came towards her. “Or perhaps it’s OK to call you Miss Rossi?” My eyes swelled at her knowledge as I came to a standstill at her table. “It’s alright darling, there aren’t any secrets here. But I’ll pretend if you want.” She looked me up and down. “Identification please.” She certainly followed procedure, just like Josh said she would. I handed her my New York city license with my real details on it, obviously no surprise to her. “So Big Joe’s daughter is in our club. This is a treat. Though I must say Lenorah, you are every bit as beautiful as the pictures I’ve seen of you.”

  Pictures?

  I tried to respond but couldn’t find anything to say. No one had been this upfront with me in a long time. It was hard for me to answer appropriately. Her acknowledgements just made me feel vulnerable and exposed. Even being a girlfriend of a Lappell member meant you were in their spotlight. There was no escape from anyone in this city.

  “You look speechless. It’s OK. We are all family here. We protect each other. I know who you belong to. And frankly, I can understand why. You are a welcome addition.”

  Still no words would come from my mouth. There was so many things that were wrong with her last statement, I didn’t know where to begin. Her head flicked up to the bouncer.

  “Did you tell her what’s on the top level Clarence?”

  The bouncer smirked, leaning up against the elevator doors. “I’d thought she would enjoy the surprise Lucille.” Her eyes formed tiny slits as she looked at the bouncer and then back to me. Finally I managed to find my voice. It had felt like a lifetime since I last spoke, having had to register so much crazy information in these last few minutes. It would take me weeks to dissect everything she said and what she meant, but for the time being I could only say, “Can I have my license back?”

  Her eyes danced with mine before she slid the card back across the desk to me. “Of course Lenorah. You wouldn’t want to lose that.” I took the card, slipping it quickly back into my clutch and then turned to Clarence as he pressed the button for the elevator doors to open.

  “Gee, talk about my train of thought being diverted, I almost forgot,” Lucille began. I swung my head back around, wondering what else this woman was about to say. I was already tongue-tied after her last few comments, and any more like that would send me sprinting off into the darkness.

  “Pass,” she said and looked at me, holding out her hand. This time I knew exactly what to do. Josh had given me a small coin to hand out as a ‘pass’. It supposedly represented wealth and something in the history of the Lappell. All the members had access to these particular coins and used them as calling cards for identification of their membership. They also used them for various meetings as well and admittance to certain gatherings and places.

  I reached into my snakeskin clutch and withdrew a tiny gold coin Josh had provided me with the previous day. He had also told me that he had added my picture and details to the list of attendees this evening, without Clint’s knowledge of course.

  Lucille took my coin, and ran the scanner over it to confirm it was authentic. When the light on the scanner turned green she turned back to me. Her eyes and smile lingering on my face a moment longer, and then she gestured to the elevator. I stepped in, and Clarence stepped in behind me.

  “You look relieved Ms Rossi. Did Lucille scare you? She shouldn’t, she is harmless,” he stated, retrieving a key from his jacket and using it to start the elevator before pushing the number two button for the second floor.

  “No, she didn’t scare me.” I watched as he put the key back into the insi
de lining of his jacket pocket.

  “Good, because she is nothing compared to what you are about to walk in to. Most of our members’ partners don’t like coming here.” He grinned widely, even licking his lips. That threw me off. Now I had a feeling of sheer nervousness. What the hell?

  The ting that signaled we had arrived onto the second floor, caused both our heads to swing towards the opening elevator doors. As they opened, I stalled, not wanting to walk out. Clarence noticed my hesitation. “Would you like to go back down? You don’t have to go in.” There was compassion in his voice this time, like he had seen this happen before. I shook my head, and took a big step forward out of the elevator. Before I could turn back and thank Clarence for bringing me up, the doors closed, leaving me without any escape.

  Finally I let my ears and eyes turn in the direction of the music that was playing. I can only describe it as half Broadway musical and half hip-hop. It was a strange kind of musical mix that caught my attention immediately.

  Then I saw where I was. F.U.C.K. Were my eyes seeing correctly? Am I in the right place? The song Lady Marmalade started to play in my head.

  It was a burlesque bar. An up-market yet hardcore gentlemen’s club. There was a sea of multi-colored lingerie-clad women, serving, dancing erotically, and standing all around me. They were entertaining the men in all the corners of the room. The bar was pretty expansive with cedar wood details, small leather chairs and a finely crafted saloon-style bar.

  I did not expect this. Not. At. All. Why had Clint failed to tell me he had meetings around half-naked women? Was it because Clint was cheating on me? Is he a cheater? Is that what the note could mean? I was already jumping to conclusions, but the fact that Clint had failed to tell me about this meeting place, had me making up all kinds of reasons in my head as to why he could be hiding that information. Clint was a huge player back in Morewell before I even met him. Would it be so hard for me to believe he couldn’t go back to his old ways?