Pieces of Truth

by Angela Richardson

  He then moved around in front of me and reached into his coat pocket, drawing out a tiny gold coin. He reached down and grabbed my hand, opening it up, and putting the tiny gold coin face down in the centre of my palm.

  “The Lappell, Miss Rossi... Have the power to turn your fate, upside down. We. See. All.” He then very slowly spun the coin over so I could see the picture of an eye printed on the gold coin on the other side. He then closed my hand over the top of the coin and met my eyes.

  “That’s what we do.”

  I swallowed, feeling kind of shaken up. I felt like I just did a dance with the devil, and I was left unhinged and speechless. My soul now a little more black.

  A limo pulled up at the curb and Kyser picked up his briefcase, readying himself to get in, but not before having one last word with me. I gulped again, trying to think of how I could possibly respond to that. But I only stood, very quiet and still, while Kyser gathered up his things.

  “I’m sure Mr. Hollows will find you Lenorah. Oh, and keep the coin. Maybe it will bring you luck, whatever that may be.” He pat me on the shoulder like he was trying to comfort me, and then slithered off into his limo. I watched as his limo pulled away holding on to the Lappell coin tightly.

  I think I just let the dark angel into my head.

  Chapter 27

  Poetic

  ~ ~ ~

  I sat, staring at my art, aimlessly going over the flow of colors and the movement that I had put into the directions of the paint with my body. I had been trying to find Josh all day but with no luck, and after leaving a message for Clint about when I was moving out, I had retreated to the one place where I could find a tiny speck of peace, my art space. I needed to get my head together and try and finish this last canvas, but all I could think about was Josh, Josh, Josh - where the fuck is Josh? How could I run from him like that without giving him a minute to explain? If anyone deserved a minute, it was Josh, and I immediately assumed the worst when I saw those texts. If Josh never spoke to me again, it would be my own doing. He probably hated me for running like that, especially after what we shared.

  I mean, we finally did it, finally plunged into taking the next step of moving our friendship into the future, and because of all my insecurities and the constant lies and deceit, I believed Josh was just like all the rest of them. And I was wrong. Josh had selflessly ended the Rossi and Voltaggio feud, as well as getting the hit called off Samuel, and he did it so I could be happy. He was never like my Dad or Clint or Samuel. He had always, and would always, be different to the rest of them. He is my Josh, or was my Josh. I didn’t know. All I could feel was terrified that I had lost him for good.

  But I needed to try and focus. I needed to try and finish my last painting. This canvas collection was of particular importance to me because it no longer represented my future, but what I had stupidly ignored since I was thirteen. It now represented my sadness and regret. I sat in the middle of the surrounding walls and closed my eyes, listening to my heart thump as the decisions I had made, with all its truths and lies, had now resulted in me being alone. I was sitting, contemplating how to begin my final canvas. I had Lana Del Rey songs playing on repeat in the background as I tried to use my sorrow as inspiration, but this collection wasn’t about sorrow, it was about hopes and dreams. How could I possibly begin in this frame of mind? How could I express hopes and dreams if I gave up on them so easily?

  The change in the music forced my eyes to open, and my head to spin around and behind me. A ballad was filling the room. It was a song I immediately recognized and I loved it. It was Ed Sherran’s, Give Me Love.. My eyes searched for movement, for something I had hoped would come and find me. I was clinging to hope, the same kind of hope I had put into this collection. It was all I had left.

  And then I saw him.

  Josh.

  “Is this real? Are you really here?” I whispered, as I locked eyes on Josh who was walking towards me. Low-rise faded blue jeans, a dark-blue polo shirt, messy chestnut brown hair, stubble on his face, and that look he had always given me that told me I was the one. I couldn’t believe he was here. It was almost too much for me, and I stumbled as I got to my feet.

  Josh hurried over and put his hands on my hips, so I could find my footing and stand up without trembling. His fingers felt electric as they gripped onto my skin. An overwhelming sense of calmness and relief filled me as I met his eyes again.

  “Yes, I’m here, for you, and I thought I’d play something for us,” he said, moving my hair out of my face with one of his hands, while the other rested on my hip. I wanted to cry I was so happy. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted him to hold me. So many emotions flowed into me all at once. They were overwhelming, but they were real and genuine, and I wanted desperately to embrace them, but I couldn’t, for fear of the imminent rejection.

  Josh had come here, even after I doubted him and pushed him away. He was here right now, in front of me and I couldn’t find my voice to express to him how happy I was to see him. I swallowed, feeling meek and vulnerable as his hands gripped into me tighter, pulling me closer to him. I instinctively closed my eyes and rested my hands on his shoulders, hoping he wouldn’t pull away. He didn’t.

  “So you know everything then?” Josh asked. I held him, and let the weight of my body lean on him as if he was the only strength I had left.

  I nodded against his shoulder as I searched for the right words. “Yes, I know Josh. I’m so sorry. I should never have doubted you. I should have listened...”

  His finger found my lips, stopping them from apologizing any more. “Shhh, no more. I’m here now. It’s OK. I understand why you did what you did. Now, it’s just us.”

  He didn’t need me to explain. He just understood and I found myself falling in love with him all over again. He wasn’t going to push me away, he wasn’t about to say good-bye. I wanted to say more, apologize more, but Josh had already taken the silent apology, inhaling it, feeling it, knowing words were not needed. There were never any words needed between us. I should have known. I should have trusted our connection more.

  “Is this really happening? Is this finally our moment Josh?” He pulled me closer again and rested his mouth near mine. Our hearts were beating so loudly I almost couldn’t take it. Then Josh pulled away from me. The coolness of the air made my eyes open and look at Josh as he walked over to a table where I kept my paints nearby. He grabbed a tube of the white paint and brought it back. I wasn’t sure what he was doing but I couldn’t say a word. I didn’t want to say anything that would make him leave, make this moment disappear. I had been too stupid for far too long.

  Josh walked back over to me and rested his fingers in between where the button of my jeans were and where the edge of my top sat. He made tiny circles with his fingers on my skin. I almost came with the sensation of his touch. The love I felt for him, easily sent the rest of me into a fit of emotions that wanted nothing more than his touch and his kiss all over me. I was craving Josh, craving my candy.

  “Do you trust me Norah?” he asked, his hand playing with the edge of my shirt.

  I nodded. But what I really wanted to do was say, “Yes and forever”, but I just nodded, unable to speak as his fingers then changed from moving along my skin to lifting up my T-shirt. He did it very slowly, grazing every inch of my skin as his lifted the material up, and off my chest, brushing past my bare skin and instantly making my nipples get hard. I wasn’t wearing a bra. After he removed my shirt, he put his hands back on my hips.

  “Don’t move,” Josh instructed. I stilled as I watched him squeeze out a small drop of white paint, and rub it all over the palm of his hand.

  What was he doing?

  I didn’t question him though. I was done with questions. I just did what he asked, hoping he would put his hands on me again, but I didn’t just want his hands; I wanted all of him on me, and in me.

  After Josh had covered his palm with the white paint, he held it up in the air so I could see it. I smiled at him and scr
unched up my eyes, confused at what he was doing. He then walked forward and pushed his paint-covered palm onto my chest, in between my breasts and over my heart. He moved his hand away and I looked at his white palm print where my heart sat underneath. He lifted my chin and stared into my eyes.

  “Mine?” he asked me. I knew exactly what he meant and what statement he was making. It was all so poetic I began to cry. I didn’t hide it, I let it happen so freely. His hand had my heart. I nodded my head up and down very quickly. I would always be his, from this moment till forever.

  “Yours,” I squeaked out as the tears lined my cheek. He used his unpainted hand to wipe away the tears and then picked up my left hand and held it up so he could show me what he was about to do next.

  He dabbed some more paint onto his finger and then, on my left hand, on my ring finger, circled it with white paint. I gasped. If this was a movie right now, it would be the moment when everyone stood up and applauded at the monumental declaration that Josh was making with just a few simple symbolic moves with the paint. Josh took a deep breath as he stared at the little white paint circle he made around my ring finger. He lifted my chin once more and said, “Forever?” and stared at me and waited.

  I was barely able to breathe, but as my brain comprehended what Josh was saying, what he was asking, I smiled so brightly because I could not hide my elation. I lifted his hand with mine and intertwined our fingers so I conveyed my answer with every ounce of love I could project.

  “Forever and more.” My words held every kind of meaning. I wanted everything with Josh. Marriage, babies, good times and bad. I wanted his soft touch and rough embrace. Just, everything.

  Josh kissed me; so hard I thought I would faint. It was as if our bodies had melted into one. The palm print on my chest rubbing up against Josh’s shirt. He couldn’t pull me close enough. After what seemed like a blissful eternity, he pulled away to regain some composure. He held my hand as he looked around at the three canvases I had assembled in formation as a small boxed room.

  “I like these pieces. They remind me of something sweet. It makes me think of...”

  “The future. Yes. It was always your collection.”

  “Mine?” Josh half laughed as he pointed to himself. He looked at me, realizing he had always been in my heart, right at the forefront, just waiting for my mind to align with it. This was our destiny. This is where the truth had led us. Lies had only led me to heartache, whereas the truth had led me to Josh, but somehow, I always knew it would.

  Our worlds were both dark, and nothing would be normal, but together we would make our own world filled with light and love. This is what happens when soul mates finally join as one. The stars align, the heavens sing, and everything else fades away. You know you’ll always have strength in your heart, and courage in your eyes. Our future wouldn’t be normal, and would be different from the rest, but no less perfect.

  Josh lifted up his shirt now, exposing his muscular chest. I grinned, feeling a new sense of comfortable. “You know, I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to cover myself in paint and let your body run wild on these canvases you have. It looks like a lot of fun.”

  I grabbed at his jeans, slowly popping the buttons and letting them fall down to his ankles. He wasn’t wearing any underwear underneath. I really loved that he was constantly sans-boxers.

  “Well, why don’t we find out?” I looked down to his nakedness and then back up to his face. “Together.” I reached over to another tube of paint and squeezed out a huge dollop and then rubbed it all along Josh’s chest and down to his torso. His eyes rolled back as my hands ran over his body, moving the paint along his skin.

  Josh breathed long and hard as he pulled my body up against his own, allowing the paint and our bodies to become one. “Always together.”

  Epilogue

  Devon Lockley

  ~ ~ ~

  Devon Lockley lit up a cigarette as he stood in the shadows behind an industrial building, waiting for the man to arrive. He had been instructed to go there. He wasn’t sure what was about to happen next. His job had been officially called off, and he had been left with a large sum of money for doing next to nothing. He wondered if it now meant he may have to give up that money to secure the important information he needed to keep secret. That was usually how these things go. Money in exchange for privacy. Green for gone. It’s what makes things magically disappear.

  Standing in the darkness, waiting for this meeting to start, made Devon uncomfortable. It had been the first time in nearly thirty years he was worried about someone other than himself, so he couldn’t do what he normally would. He couldn’t take control and he couldn’t lose control either. He knew he shouldn’t have taken this job to begin with. He sensed something was off the moment he heard the word ‘Morewell’.

  Devon had studied at Morewell at McLaren University along with his brother and wife. They had all been accepted into the Lappell, and graduated within a year of each other. His brother never quite liked the demands of the Lappell and as soon as they could, they moved to Boston to start a different life, a quieter one where they could raise a family, even though they still had ties to the group.

  Devon had different aspirations. He liked the money, power and influence of the Lappell. It sucked him in, and made him want more. So Devon stayed behind in Morewell, and began to help the Lappell to do jobs, mainly in assisting with information they needed. Following subjects, planting evidence, the usual run-of-the mill henchman kind of work. However, on one particular occasion, he was asked to track a particular person of interest and help him to understand that they needed to disappear. On that evening, Devon Lockley’s life changed forever. He made the person disappear for good, and since then, became the go-to man in the Lappell for quick disappearances.

  I guess you could say Devon Lockley ‘the hit man’ was a job that he fell into. He changed his name to an unknown one the moment he completed his first job. He didn’t want anyone he knew to suffer because of the line of work he had chosen. It was his life and his consequence to live. He needed to keep himself completely separate from any and all identification. His brother, Martin Nicholls, knew what path his brother had chosen, and under the direction of his membership of the Lappell, had to keep everything secret to ensure the safety of himself and his family. He didn’t want the hit man’s enemies to ever come their way. Devon moved to New York to sever ties with Morewell and his identifying origins. He couldn’t risk anyone looking into his past.

  It was just before college graduation in Morewell last year, when Devon, who was at the time considering his retirement, received two phone calls. One from a rich kid in Morewell called Clint Weston, telling him that he had a contract on his head from Samuel Voltaggio of New York, and that he would pay whatever it took to take the boy out. Devon accepted and arranged the paperwork. The Lappell always kept a paper trail. They always liked to have something over all its members if they needed to. Clint was a Lappell member and had been recommended by his chapter. Devon believed the final hit he would undertake, would assist in his retirement needs. As soon as he got the signed contract from Mr. Weston, he received the sum of US$500,000 and set his sights on arranging Samuel Voltaggio’s ‘accidental’ passing.

  Within the same week, Devon received a second call. It was from a guy who said he knew who his niece was, and would make sure she would never be seen again if he followed through with Weston’s request. How this information was leaked, he would never know, but this guy was using the identity of his niece from stopping him from following through with this paid for hit. Devon didn’t know why he was being held back from killing this guy. He thought the second guy must have been a friend of Voltaggio, but he soon learned that he was not. In fact, this guy hated Voltaggio as much as Weston.

  Devon became concerned by this strange turn of events. Instead of taking out Voltaggio, he was made to keep an eye on him, making him report all his movements, telling him that things could change any minute. Devon, normall
y a lot smarter and a lot more ruthless, couldn’t follow through with his contract, knowing his niece was at risk. The release of that information would surely secure her and her family’s death, and that was one burden he could not have in his life. Devon’s brother and wife were good people, as was his niece. He had to do what he was told, even if it didn’t make sense.

  Devon soon found out his niece was connected to another girl that all these boys were interested in. Finding out that his niece was also her friend, he encouraged his niece to try and get her away from these guys as quickly as possible. Devon didn’t want to see his niece’s friend get caught in the crossfire of whatever dispute they were having, especially considering how connected she was. However, his niece failed in her attempt to get the girl away, and he was left, waiting to see how it would all play out. His only concern now was the fate of his niece and her family, and ensuring their ties to him remained secret.

  ~ ~ ~

  I felt the shadow come up behind me. He took his place standing in front of me, eyeing the way I smoked my cigarette. It wasn’t often I feared any type of situation, but right now, I was looking at a person who had masterminded a large series of events to his own advantage. I couldn’t estimate the power and pull this person had. It was a lot more than I anticipated.

  “So, you got what you wanted?” I looked at him, wondering what his intentions were. He stalked up to me, and I held my breath. I had seen this look before on men when they needed to get rid of loose ends. A quick bullet to the brain was usually the next course of action. I kept one hand holding the cigarette and the other stuffed in my pocket on a small revolver, ready to take him out if I needed to.

  “I did. I got, exactly what I wanted.” He had gotten even closer to me. The first thing I noticed was how bright his eyes seemed. They didn’t feel dangerous. They were a emerald shade of green, a color I hadn’t seen often. My hand gripped the revolver in my pocket. He looked innocent enough, but I still had to be careful; looks were not to be trusted. He held up both his arms like he was about to attack me, and I readied my hand to pull out the revolver and squeeze the trigger. As his arms came towards me, I lifted my hand, but then they went all around me in what I could only say was a...