by K. S. Adkins
“Do you? Well, I disagree. I’m tired of being chewed up and spit out. I want to go back to DC, back to the action, back to what I know.”
“Back to being alone?”
“Fuck you,” I say, rolling toward him. “You don’t know shit about what I’m feeling. How this feels! You didn’t hear what he said. How he looked when he said it. You want to stay, stay. I’m leaving with or without you. Alone is better than gutted any damn day.”
Grabbing my face, he leans in. “Taking you back to DC would be easy. Thing is, you spent years keeping this asshole safe from a distance, and you wouldn’t do that if you didn’t care. He didn’t want to do it, Red. I pushed him, me. Ask me why I pushed him.”
“No.”
“Ask me.”
“I don’t need to ask. It doesn’t matter what you said, the point is he fucking did it. You may have suggested it, but one minute he said he loved me and the next… No, he did this, and now he’s on his own.” Turning away from him I curl up in a ball. “See yourself out, Duffy.”
Then as I lay there drifting, head spinning, still mostly drunk, I hear him whisper to me in the darkness. “You’re easy to love, Red. A man will do anything to protect the woman he loves, like walk away from for her if he thinks it’s best. Or get her away from the man she loves so he has shot at her heart. I ain’t proud of what I did, but there ain’t nothing I wouldn’t do for you, neither.”
Deciding to figure out what that meant later, I close my eyes, not even caring that he is next to me. If there is one thing Duffy does without asking, it’s keeping me safe.
One minute I am out cold; the next there is light, followed by noise, but mostly it’s Max trying to kill every male in the room. I’m pretty sure when I shoot up and my towel falls down it makes a shit situation even worse.
“Tell me something I don’t know about you,” I ask her while she sips her coffee. “Hmm okay, here’s one; I hate flying.”
“You hate flying.” I laugh. “But you jump out of planes?”
“Correction, I rappel. But I’d rather leave the plane by rope then stay strapped into a seat.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Was it supposed to?”
Duffy decided killing me was a waste of his time so he left, but the others stayed. Asking them to leave didn’t work, telling them to leave didn’t work, and threatening castration just made them laugh. Giving in, I fell to the couch and tried ignoring them instead. Bishop stayed quiet, thank fuck, but Rogan had a lot of advice to share. Oddly enough it was Rafe’s that stuck with me and everyone was as surprised to hear it as I was.
“I ain’t debating on whether or not you love her,” Rogan says, grabbing his keys. “But I gotta wonder if you do. Ain’t nothing outside of death that could keep from my angel. You lay claim to loving her, fucking her up to keep her safe. It don’t make no sense, but this kind of shit never does.”
“Whoa now, partner,” says Rafe, stepping beside him. “Mad Max here loves Jules, he’s just confused about what to do. Right, Max?” When I nod he keeps going. “I broke my girl’s heart once, I swore I’d spend every day never repeating that mistake. Jules is sensitive, she feels things real deep. I have to think that if you have the ability to hurt her that badly she must love you a whole lot more. See where I’m going with this?”
“Not really,” I admit. “No.”
“She loves you enough to forgive you,” he says. “Though you may be doing it from a hospital bed after you tell her you lied about it, but still. You cool with her leaving for good? I don’t see you being all right with that, but if you don’t get your dick out of your ass she’ll jet, and you’ll just be left with your dick in your—”
“He gets it,” says Rogan, rolling his eyes. “Macy needs to get you some flashcards or something, fuck.”
“Yeah, well, Venessa needs to trim that shit from around your mouth. You look like Davy Jones from that pirate flick.”
“She likes my mouth just fine.”
“You got a little something in your beard,” he says, reaching for his face, but then Rogan slaps it away. “Fine, you walk around with chili in your grill, who am I to judge?”
Looking up at Bishop and asking again where she was I must have looked desperate, because he finally tells me. Grabbing my keys, I walk out not caring what the three of them do. However, I should have known they would follow me if only for the entertainment and the prospect of her kicking my ass. Valeting the car, bullshitting reception into giving me a key and taking the elevator, I opened the door to her suite, and instead of feeling at peace at seeing her again, I see Duffy with his body literally wrapped around hers.
Fuck peace.
This is war.
Flicking on all of the lights I stomp over to the bed, ripping Duffy out of it by his head. When Rafe and Rogan show up they try breaking us apart, but I refuse to let go. I don’t care that he’s fully dressed, especially when she jolts awake wearing nothing but a towel that falls below her breasts, giving everyone a full view of what’s mine. Yelling, grunting, and my fists hitting Duffy’s face is all I can hear. It’s not until she lays down the law that I even pause. “Enough,” she says slurred, and all four of us stop dead in our tracks.
Pulling up her towel, she doesn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed. Actually, she looks smashed. Crawling out of bed, she stands in front of all us in commander mode. In any other situation I’d find this funny considering not one of us is under six feet, two hundred pounds, and she’s tiny, weighing in at a buck twenty, with the towel.
Squinting her eyes and swaying on her feet she starts with me. “You’re in my room attacking Duffy again because?”
“This is man stuff, Boss—”
Leveling Duffy with that don’t-fuck-with-me look she says, “I asked you to leave, didn’t I?”
Looking slightly guilty he moves around me to get to her side, leans in, and whispers, “Couldn’t leave you like that, Boss. You needed me.”
When she growls then ignores him and focuses on me, I know I’m unwelcome. “If he felt like it, he could have killed you at any time, dumbass,” she starts. “The only reason you have full use of your body is because he won’t take advantage of the weak.” Then looking over at the other two she nods. “Hey, guys.” When they give her a “Hey” back I get really pissed.
“Are you drunk? Where in the fuck are your clothes?”
“Probably on the floor where I left them,” she snarls at me, “Get out, Max.”
“No chance,” I tell her, getting closer. “I want answers on what I just saw, now.”
“Guys,” she says. “Would you please remove my ex-husband from the room, because if I have to do it I’ll be paying a cleaning fee for the blood spray and hazmat team, and my expense report won’t cover it.”
Rafe nods, taking a few steps toward me, and clearly his loyalties lie with my wife. “Sorry it didn’t pan out; time to go,” he says, reaching for one arm while Rogan reaches for the other.
That’s when time stands still. The second they grab me, I go berserk. Swinging at each of them, they block me until I land a few. Then Rafe was the first who decided he wants to hit back, so he does, hard. Then Rogan follows suit. I’m not sure how long this lasts, but it feels like forever. Next thing you know I’m on the floor with my hands behind my back, breathing heavy because Rogan weighs as much as a Buick, and I’m seeing stars, as in an entire god damn galaxy.
Searching the room I notice she’s gone, and that Duffy no doubt went with her. Sagging in defeat, Bishop strolls in, whistles, and tells them I’ve had enough.
He had no fucking idea in that moment how right he was.
“I told you to wait, didn’t I?” he asks, laughing. “You don’t listen for shit.”
Sitting up slowly because the room was still spinning, I glare at Bishop wondering why I ever trusted his ass. “You knew he was here with her, didn’t you?”
“Of course I did,” he says, sitting on the bed. “I also knew you’d overreact, a
sshole. Why don’t you just hand her right over to the guy? Fucking amateur.”
“Who’s side you on, man?” asks Rogan. “Ain’t cool playing with him like this.”
“I’m on her side,” he says. “Every fucking time.”
“You’re evil,” says Rafe. “I like it.”
“I ain’t playing him,” he defends. “Dumb prick keeps playing himself. He don’t listen for shit, running around half-cocked thinkin’ he’s saving her or some shit. She don’t need savin’ cockfucker, I keep telling you that. Don’t matter though, she cut you off. You’re out, yesterday’s news. Looks like Red finally took out the trash herself.”
Getting up, he pats me on the head and walks out, whistling again. I really want to hate that guy, but I can’t because he’s right.
“Spill it,” says Rafe, and Rogan nods in agreement.
Telling them both about what I had thought was a good idea at the time, when I finish they both look seriously pissed. Rogan looks like he wants to sit on me again while Rafe looks like he’d rather draw on me and get it over with. Running his hands over his big ass bald head, Rogan gives me more advice.
“It ain’t too often I get in people’s business,” he says. “Gotta tell you, I don’t blame her one fucking bit. That female spent your years apart looking out for you. Saved Macy, stuck around, even went rounds with your old man for you. Word is her job is on the line because of your bullshit. You get her to trust in you again, and then you betray that trust? The fuck is the matter with you? You love your wife?”
“Rogue, man,” starts Rafe. “Come on.”
“No,” he says, leveling him with a look. “Had this same talk with you too, partner. Answer the question, Max.”
“I love her enough to let her go,” I defend. “I did this because I love her.”
“Leaving her ain’t showing her you love her.”
“I wanted her safe.”
“She ain’t like other females,” he says. “You know that. She’s more hardcore than Venessa and Macy, even; you knew that, too. So you run her off, then what? You think he’s gonna leave her alone? He was fucking with her even when you two were apart. You let that Denzel-looking motherfucker get close to her because you didn’t play it straight.”
“He wants a shot at my wife. Fuck, it’s like I’m always a step behind. I can’t compete with Duffy.”
“Can’t blame the guy,” says Rafe letting out a whistle. “Your wife is fucking hot.”
“Not helping, partner,” says Rogan.
“What?” he asks. “She ain’t no Princess, but she’s still fucking hot in that ‘Am I real redhead?’ kinda way. Seriously Max, do the curtains match the carpet?”
“Shut it down, partner,” warns Rogan.
“All’s I’m saying is, she’s fierce. But like quiet fierce, right? Betcha she makes a helluva leader, if how she controls those two is anything to go by. Is she Hitler in the sack?”
“Jesus,” says Rogan, rolling his eyes.
“I can’t believe I’m going to ask this, but what do I do?”
“Well for starters you should—” starts Rafe.
“I was asking Rogan.”
“What? I’m married; he ain’t. I know the key to a woman’s heart.”
“I’m going to regret this,” I say. “But what is it?”
“Let her play with your ass. Trust me, Max it’s a win-win.”
“See what I put up with?” asks Rogan. “Listen, tell her the truth. Tell her you’re sorry and show her you mean that shit. The rest is up to her.”
“Shit,” I say, sagging down to the floor.
“I can’t be the only thinking she had a killer rack, am I?” asks Rafe, looking at each of us. “What? Like you didn’t look?”
“No,” says Rogan. “I didn’t.”
“Well, ain’t you just a saint and shit. I looked. Only so I could go home and tell my wife her rack is better than Jules’. Chicks love that shit. But between us guys? It’s a total tie.”
Ignoring them both I head back out the door. I can’t go home to an empty house, so I decide to go to the club and pray none of these motherfuckers showed up. I have to put this shit with Hank to bed once and for all and somehow convince her to give me another chance.
She was delirious. Thrashing, coughing, and mumbling. I did my best to stop her from hurting herself, but when she turned on me, I said “Fuck this,” and got my stuff to hang out with Lina.
“Red?” she calls for me. “What now?” I ask, walking back in. “Before you, life was easy. Then you showed; you ruined my body and my life.”
“I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment to you,” I mutter, walking away. “When I leave you’ll never have to see me again.”
Laughing turns into wheezing when she says, “I’m never that lucky.”
Hanging my head, I promise her this time she would be, and I kept that promise.
Sitting at the Coney Island with Duffy while he tries filling me with grease and coffee is not how I wanted to spend my time. I wanted to lick my wounds in private. I’ve always been a loner of sorts, dealing with my problems quietly. Even as a kid I didn’t share my problems with anyone, because who was going to listen? I learned to keep quiet and deal alone. All these years I kept my marriage private, my loneliness to myself, and my past close to my heart. Now it’s all out in the open, and if I wasn’t feeling so devastated, I’d be humiliated.
Focusing on watching him eat it never ceases to amaze me just how much the man can ingest without getting fat or coming up for air. He’s a bottomless pit. Just watching him eat makes me feel fat. Tackling one problem at a time, I start with the last words he spoke to me before I passed out.
“You don’t love me like that, Duffy,” I say. “I don’t love you like that, either.”
He stops chewing to look up at me. “Is it because I’m black?” he asks, smiling.
“Don’t go there,” I warn him, smiling back. “It wouldn’t matter to me if you were purple; you’re an amazing guy, but I can’t turn off my love for him. Right now I wish I could. Loving you would be easier.”
“If he wasn’t around,” he says. “Think you could love me then?”
“Look,” I start. “I’ve only ever felt this way for one guy, Duffy, one. If he wasn’t in the picture I still would love you, but never more than I love you now.”
“You know what they say about black men, dontcha?”
“Oh god,” I say, laughing. “Yeah, I heard. They have huge—”
“Keep going,” says Bishop, pulling up a chair.
“Egos,” I say, rolling my eyes while he takes food off my plate. “They have huge egos.”
“So Max…” he says, taking my bacon.
“I don’t want to talk about Max,” I say, taking my bacon back. “Ever.”
“Gotta tell ya, he impressed me, Boss.”
“Didn’t I just say ever?” I ask, looking at Duffy, who just grins. “Pretty sure I did. Change the subject.”
“Hank,” says Duffy. “What are we going to do about him?”
“We?” I ask, looking at each of them. “There is no we.”
“Wanna bet?” asks Bishop. “It’s a matter of time before this case became official anyway. Look, we’re already here, so let’s get this shit done before we get called out for something else. You leave and they start a case, you’ll be right back here whether you like it or not. Personally, I don’t wanna come back here twice, cuz Boss, seriously? Once was enough.”
“He’s right,” says Duffy, taking my toast. “Hank ain’t gonna let up on you regardless. Let’s put this shit to rest so we can go home and do what we’re good at.”
“What’s that?” I ask, stealing a bite of his hash browns.
“Taking a vacation on the government’s dime.”
“Fine,” I concede. “Take Hank down, clear Max, take a vacation. I can work with that.”
“Somewhere topless is preferred,” says Duffy. “Your titty pop this morning is only gonna last
me so long.”
“Titty pop?” asks Bishop, staring at my breasts.
“Fuck my life,” I say, grabbing my stuff and walking out to my rental while I hear Duffy explain my morning peep show. Getting in to my car and embracing the quiet, I decide that I need to take this to the next level. Calling in two favors and waiting to hear back, I put it in drive and head to my next destination, hoping Lina can pull through for me.
“Maxwell!” he says, walking through the foyer with his whisky and a cigar. “Let me meet the darling that captured your heart!”
“̓Sup, Hank,” she says, smiling. “Long time no see, huh?”
“You,” he sneers at her. “Get that trash the fuck out of this house!”
“Hank!” I yell. “That’s my wife!”
“The hell she is!” he screams, spilling his drink. “Out!” he says, pointing at her, but if she was surprised by his behavior she doesn’t show it. In fact, from where I am standing, it looks like she thinks it is hilarious.
“Let’s go,” I say, taking her arm.
“But we just got here,” she whines.
“Hank,” I growl. “How do you know her?”
“Yeah, Dad,” she says sweetly. “Explain to your son how we know each other.”
Instead of answering either of us, he throws his glass against the wall and stomps off, leaving me speechless and her amused. “What the fuck just happened?”
“He’s crazy?”
“Blue,” I warn her.
“Okay, fine,” she says. “We know a few of the same people. Small world, right? Turns out there are a lot of assholes in the world. Me and Hank never have hit it off. I don’t get along with assholes.”
“I’m so sorry about this.”
“Don’t sweat it,” she says, hugging me. “You tried; I appreciate that.”
“I need to know how you know him, Blue. Don’t dodge me on this.”
“I have less than forty eight hours with my husband,” she says taking my hand.“And I don’t want to spend them talking about Hank.”
I didn’t push her for answers though I fully intended on getting them. A thousand times I started to ask but never did. She was right, our time together was limited and discussing a man she despises didn’t seem important.