by Paula Cox
He looks over his shoulder, nodding. “No, I suppose not, Mr. Steel. I’ll be in contact with you tomorrow about the fire department’s investigation and when we can get in. If you have any strings with the city zoning and permit boards, I’d be calling in favors there as well to fast track it. Until then, I’ll have the cement workers on call.” His fancy Italian leather shoes pound on the steel stairs as he rushes down and out of the building. I barely catch a glimpse of him as he takes off.
Alone again, back in my office, I write down the few to-dos to add to my list. The fire department shouldn’t take much work on my part. Detective Joey already checked in with me this week about the possibility of getting those fire department workers out of my hair sooner rather than later. The city shouldn’t be a pain in the ass either. I’ve got guys there that owe me so many favors for little deliveries I’ve made for them over the years. The rest of my list is a bit more complicated, a list of names with checks or ‘X’s next to them.
This has been my life the last week—names on a list crossed off one by one. There’s been phone calls to family members, funeral plans for those without loved ones, and memorials to attend where they’ve let me in. Then there is the problem with my club as well. After the ambushes, it wasn’t like my guys were fond of taking my orders. For the first time with me in the lead, I heard grumblings of my demise. Some said I had been seduced and distracted by Anna. I was what they called “blind to the puss,” too consumed in a woman to see her bigger plan.
I had no reason not to trust Anna. There were no signs that all this time she’d been working with Riley. The night we stormed Riley’s basement and she stabbed him with the knife was enough for me. No one in their right mind would have planned that kind of deception out, not even a psycho like Riley. But it was hard to convey that to the guys that weren’t there with us. My grip on them had to grow tighter if I was going to maintain control.
So I did the only thing I knew to do, I worked them to the bone on the streets and riding the routes. I worked them until they were exhausted from daily night shifts and early morning pickups. I worked them until their pockets were lined with the profits.
When they weren’t doing sales, they were in charge of hunting for me. Each mark they brought in, I paid them out of my own paycheck. I called it a commission. Money was the best way to shut up a man, and by the end of this week, their lips were practically sealed. They were begging me to cool it, thus giving me back the control I need. Anna’s name hasn’t been mentioned to me in days, except by weekly reports from the three guys I assigned to twenty-four hour watch duty.
That’s how I learned about her mom. I was furious when Randall called to say she had gotten out of the house and he had no choice but to bring her. Of course he did, I reasoned. But he explained what he had told her, and I contacted a contact at the hospital who read her mom’s chart to confirm it. When the nurse told me she had minutes, I flew on my bike towards Anna, hoping that she would make peace with me when it was all over.
What I did isn’t forgivable. I’m a person who has never asked for forgiveness one day in his life, but even I understand that. What’s worse is that I know she had every right to do what she did in that waiting room and walk out on me for good. And part of me knows that this solved our problems. Riley would stay away, if I knew him well enough. His only goal is to get to Anna, and my club is just collateral damage. With her unguarded, he’s free to pursue her or kill her, whatever it is he has in mind.
“Mack? You called for me?” My thoughts are interrupted by Randall, Anna’s old guard. He peeks his head open through the still-open office door. “I did what you asked me to. The stuff is right out here. Where did you want me to bring it?”
“Bring it here, into the office. I’ll have you deliver it later when we get a handle on where she is headed.” After she left me, I called off her guard. I would find her, in time. But for right now, it was better to risk Riley finding her than push her even further.
Randall brings in a large cardboard box into my office and then leaves as quickly as he walked in. I stare for a minute at the box, examining it from afar as if getting too close to it would cause it to explode or something. From my seat behind the desk, I can see the arms of t-shirts sticking out from a pile of dirty clothes. A perfume bottle is wrapped up in a bright yellow bath towel and her makeup kit is spilled out over the top. It’s a collection of her.
After a few minutes, I get the gall up to actually touch it. I dig through the box, examining each and every thing they managed to find. At the bottom are a few books she had purchased. Among them is a notebook with her tattoo renderings. Small doodles of stars, moons, arrows, and faces line the pages randomly.
Mixed with the charcoal and ink drawings are a few notes she wrote to herself. Most are just lists of things she needed to get done: “Work until 8 PM. Dinner with Mack. Laundry day!” But there’s also phone numbers, “Mom’s Cell—498-9232. Ian’s Hospital—489-8370, Room 120. Mack’s Burner—498-3300. Roxy’s Work Phone—555-080-9012 ext. 345.”
Her mom, Ian, me… she’s lost so much, and I’m responsible for a great deal of it. In most cases, guilt rolls off of me like my skin can protect itself from it. But the regret I feel for pushing Anna to this place isn’t disappearing, even a few weeks later when I’m still walking around the clubhouse with that notebook under my arm.
I had tried to absolve myself by first going to her mom’s funeral, but it was closed door. She had seen to that. Only a few cars dot the parking lot, one I recognized to be her new ride. I waited for her there, but she didn’t see me standing in the cold with my leather jacket pulled up to my face to protect me from the wind. I wanted to call out her name, to rush to her, but as she sobbed with her arms around Roxy, I knew this isn’t the place.
My next attempt is at the old tattoo shop. Anna’s managed to pick up work there with the regulars. Like I predicted, Ian wouldn’t even let me through the door without an appointment or a name to give. And waiting in the parking lot for her to get off from her shift was impossible with the security gate in place. I did wait for her just outside though so I could follow her back to her new apartment about two blocks away. As she unlocked the door, she peered suspiciously over her shoulder, her hand tight on her purse where I knew she was probably packing a gun or knife.
For a moment, I thought she saw me. There was this look in her eyes that softened at the sight of something in the distance near where I was parked, but she didn’t give me or the object more than a few seconds of her time before she slipped inside and up the stairs. A light turned on moments later on the top floor, and I was left to stare at the outline of her moving through her apartment.
Today, I am carrying this notebook with me, close to my chest. I’ve tucked it into my undershirt so the cool paper binding presses into my skin. It’s to protect it from the debris from the work site. With it safe and secure, I head out to see Orlando, who is hunched over the hood of his truck with a member of his team. They chat in Spanish about the work ahead for the day.
“How much more time?” I ask, staring at the building. Four walls, a roof, and a floor have already been formed as if overnight. The massive payments for their speed seem to be encouraging the process at the pace I need it to be done.
“Two days for the tattoo shop. Six more days for the restaurant. You’ll get the Thanksgiving opening you want once your sister orders the new fixtures and furniture. Do you know what you’re going to do with that tattoo parlor? Have you got a guy to order the equipment and furnishings? If not, I know a person who does it for a living. Good guy named Ian. He’s been doing some side jobs now that he’s retiring for good.”
Ian… of course I know Ian, and I have no doubt that after working with Anna, he knows damn well who I am too. Still, I turn towards my architect and say, “Yeah, I’d like his help. But do me a favor and don’t tell him where the shop is or who owns it. If you have to, lie. I don’t want him giving me lower quality shit just because I may be hi
s competition. I’ll pay him whatever he wants.”
Orlando nods and heads off to make his phone calls. I walk back towards headquarters, a phone in my hand. With a few days for the place to be finished being put together and another few days for the tattoo equipment to be ordered and set up, I don’t have much time. She has to be here for the opening. This is her place and always will be, but I know she won’t accept an invitation directly from me.
The notebook shuffles around on my chest as I climb the stairs, and I remember that page I turned to the first day I found it. I get back to my office and frantically peel the pages back looking for the numbers. There, listed after mine, is the name of her friend Roxy. Even with the little I know about her, I can tell that she is the one living person I can use to get Anna back to me. I just need her to listen.
I leave a voicemail at her work, asking her to meet me at a coffee shop not far from headquarters after her shift is over. Although I know Anna’s not a snitch, I make sure to add that she and Anna aren’t in danger for reassurance. I wait for hours in that booth, hoping against all reasonable expectations that she’ll show. I sit there quietly, staring at the door with my hands clasped around Anna’s notebook until finally she spots me.
Red hair and bright green eyes, she’s as I expected her to be—minus the tattoos. She’s certainly more clean cut than Anna, but edgier in other ways. Roxy certainly didn’t look like the genius scientist Anna always made her out to be either. There was nothing about her that said “major nerd” either.
She spots me instantly though I’m certainly not hard to miss. I stand out like a sore thumb among the hipsters with their fake beards and oversized glasses staring into their computer screens and drinking their tiny lattes out of paper, reusable cups. I stand when I see Roxy, pointing towards the open chair I saved for her in the corner of the quiet shop, but she doesn’t sit right away.
“Mack, I guess?” she asks, her arm clutching to the handle of her purse as if she thinks I’m some common thief.
“Yeah. You Roxy?” Of course she is, but she’s making me nervous enough to ask dumb questions.
“What did you need from me? I don’t have much time before I’m supposed to meet A— a friend for dinner.”
I stand, pulling out the chair from behind her. Softly, I say, “You don’t have to do that.”
“What?” She sits across from me, still without pulling her chair in. She’s got enough room to escape, I guess.
“Lie to me. If you’re going to see Anna later tonight, that’s none of my business. I called you here to talk to you. I’m not going to pry you with information about her or force you to talk to me.” I pause, letting her soften a bit. She shifts around in her metal chair before leaning back, her arm draped over the back as she peers toward the window. Still, she doesn’t let go of the phone in her hand.
“First things first,” I continue, “I’ve got her stuff, including this notebook. I want to make sure she gets everything back that she wants. If not, I could donate it or drop it off some other place. It’s all in the van outside, if you want to give it to her directly and cut me out of the equation.”
She nods as she looks back outside towards the parking lot. A motorcycle club president driving around the one minivan in the parking lot is probably hard to imagine, but I thought it would take an edge off the situation if I did. Plus, I’m not lugging that box around on the back of my Harley to make a point.
“Secondly, I brought you here because I wanted you to give her a message. I don’t want or need her forgiveness, but I want her to know that I am sorry. I tried to tell her at her mom’s funeral, but I couldn’t do that to her that day. And I’ve tried a few times to find her, but I am guessing she’s jumpy still around guys like me. So I thought you could do it.”
“Why would I want to do that? What you did to her was unforgivable. I don’t blame her for never, ever wanting to see you again.”
“I get that. I didn’t want to hurt her or to take her away from her mom. I’m not sure if she told you, but that night of the fire, I had to make split second decisions, and they were the wrong ones. I should have had my detective partner bring her straight to the hospital and keep her there, but I knew Riley’s guys were capable and following her mom. So I kept her locked up while he was out there killing.”
“Killing?” she asks, her eyes wide as she leans in with her hands wrapped around the circular bistro table. “What does that mean?”
“Three of my men were gunned down by Riley that night. Another eight or so were injured. One died the night after. It was a mess. Everyone was on the run from Riley’s Knights. I knew that if Anna was out there or with me, he would find her. So I shipped her off to that house with the intention of getting her when I got the all-clear or when Riley was found. I know now that it was a huge mistake.”
“Do you mean that?” Roxy asks, boring holes into me as if she’s trying to fish the truth out of me.
“Yeah. Frankly, I’d give another six guys and myself to Riley if it meant I could give Anna time with her mother before she passed. I know what that feels like, to lose a parent…” My voice trails off as I watch a couple come into the coffee shop, their arms draped around the other.
While I’m not looking, Roxy picks up her phone and begins to dial. It’s only when she starts to talk into the receiver that I pay her any attention. “Hey, Anna. I’m actually at this coffee shop on Maple Street. Perk Me Up. Can you meet me here instead?”
“What are you doing?” I whisper towards her.
Roxy places a hand on her phone as she answers me. “Getting you a second shot,” she says through pursed lips.
CHAPTER 22
“Please, Anna. Do this for me. Just hear him out, and if you don’t like what he has to say, you can go and be pissed at me. I promise.” Roxy takes my hand and points me towards the open window to the cafe. Mack is looking at us awkwardly, as if he is attempting to read our lips. It makes me even angrier than before.
“He doesn’t deserve another second of my time, Roxy! Look what he has done to me. I lost my mom because of him.”
“Not because of him, Anna. You lost time with her because of him, but he really did try his best to protect her. You said it yourself the other day; if his guy wasn’t there, she would have died alone in her house. He gave her a second chance, even if it didn’t work out the way we might have wanted it to.”
I hate it when Roxy is more reasonable than I am. I did say those things just a few days ago as I sobbed into the pillows of my new couch. She rubbed my back and promised that I was being sane by being pissed at Mack. Now she is taking it all back by tricking me to come here and see him.
My chin shakes as I get a tight, full sensation in my throat, a lump that won’t go away. I force my eyes up towards the sky, praying that this will stop the tears just about to fall. “I can’t do this, Roxy. I can’t sit there in that cafe with him and listen to him explain to me how it wasn’t his fault. Someone has to take the blame for why I only had minutes to say goodbye to her.”
“You should blame him. You should be fucking livid with him.” Roxy points towards Mack as he shrivels in his chair and pretends to not see us. “You don’t have to take him back, but you know your mom would have wanted you to at least hear the guy out.”
“What?” I ask tiredly. “What would my mom want?”
“She would want you to be happy, and that man makes you deliriously happy. She said it to me herself a few days before everything happened. I was calling to check in on her, and we were talking about you.”
“Did she tell you about how I basically failed at being her daughter? I wasn’t there those last few weeks. I rarely got around to even calling her on time. I’m sure she wasn’t exactly happy with me and how I would never let her in on what was going on with me.”
While so much of my guilt has been about not being at the hospital, the last week or so, my heart has been broken to pieces by the call log on my phone. Her phone number didn’t pop up
for days. Even worse, there were so many unanswered phone calls and unopened voicemails reminding me of how I put myself before her.
“You didn’t fail. We talked about you and why you weren’t around as much. I won’t lie to you—I think she was a bit sad that you weren’t calling her back regularly, but she said to me, ‘Anna’s in love, and that’s a good thing.’ After Riley and everything he put you through, she knew that you deserved to be with someone like Mack who made you feel loved and safe.”
“Roxy, feeling ‘loved and safe’ don’t make up for the fact that he held me hostage all alone in a safe house. He paid some guys to force me back in the house. I couldn’t even take a step outside without them throwing me indoors. What kind of love is that? No way in hell would she have approved of it.”
“But, that’s the thing. He’s not the white picket fence kind of guy, Anna.” She sighs as she turns me away from his view. We land at the side of the cafe, towards an alley. Lowering her voice, she explains, “You’re not a white picket fence kind of girl either. Your whole life you’ve been different, and your mom knew that. The kind of guy that you want and deserve isn’t going to be the one who works a nine to five job and then comes home to their kids and dog. The kind of guy you want and need is sitting in that cafe broken up about something he knows he did wrong.”