Here/Now

by D. D. Lorenzo

  Some people thought it quirky, but Aimee loved old furniture! Somehow, she saw new life inside of them. She’d given Declan and Aria a piece for a wedding gift she’d loved back to life. When Carter saw it, he was impressed. It was unique, to say the least. An old trunk, distressed and turned into a table. She had sanded, stained, and distressed it even further to make it unique, then sealed it herself. Of course, no one ever suspected a prissy girl to have this type of hobby.

  Declan and Aria were shocked, and Carter said it was unique. His approval made her very happy, and it was then she knew she’d like to have more than friendship with him. Carter was a hot, good- looking guy. The more she was around him, the more she liked his personality. He was serious but funny. She wanted the option to know him better. When he slow danced with her at the wedding, she felt all tingly. She’d never been intimate with a guy. Just the opposite. When you were a girl, and in and out of foster homes, you tried very hard to keep boys and men away from you. She knew the horror stories about sexual abuse in foster families. This was different. When they danced she loved the feel of his chest against her, and how his arms closed around her. As her head lay on his shoulder, she felt secure and safe. It was the first time she’d ever had the feeling. She was so content she felt drugged. When the music stopped, they both lingered. She was about to say something amusing to break the tension, but when she pulled back, her lips were just a breath away from his. He looked into her eyes and she felt her blood begin to flow. Hidden places began to feel warm. She could tell he felt it too.

  Just then Jonatan intruded on her thoughts, handing her a glass of wine.

  “A penny for your thoughts,” he said.

  She felt heat rise as her cheeks blushed.

  “Oh, they would be worth much more than a penny,” she teased.

  “Really? Do tell!” His interest was piqued. He’d known Aimee for a long time and she was rarely coy.

  “Now I really want to hear them. Spill, girlfriend,” he playfully challenged.

  She took a sip of wine and recognized the taste as the same wine served at the wedding.

  “I think I’ll keep them to myself, if you don’t mind,” she said.

  “Really?” Now he was very curious. “Why would that be?”

  Aimee bit her bottom lip and savored her memories. She laid her head on his shoulder.

  “Because they’re worth more than a penny… they’re priceless.”

  Finally!

  His office was complete. Carter had spent the last few months turning Lacey’s former craft room into an office for himself. It would be the home base for his new endeavor, MarSin Falcon, Inc.

  MarSin Falcon was the brainchild of him and two former co-workers, Marcus Bainbridge and Falcon Grey. He, himself, had toyed with the idea of establishing a security company for quite some time. As he reflected on the not-so-recent events of his life, he took exception to the obstacle poor security footage presented. It was the crux of the case against Marisol Franzi in the vehicular homicide charge. He believed Marisol was guilty. He also believed her sister did not have to die.

  With the wrongful death of Marisol’s twin sister, Marchelle, Carter believed if the security equipment had been current¸ the case against her would be stronger. The latest facial recognition technology would have had the ability to more accurately identify the minor differences in the two women.

  Although, at the time, no one was aware of Marchelle’s existence, the progression of the entire operation was a source of frustration.

  There were too many if only sentences when he attempted to constructively discover the obstacles. Many of those if only’s were prevalent throughout the investigation of Lacey’s death. He believed those scenarios could have been prevented if more small companies were able to afford efficient and specialized equipment to protect their establishments. The owners were either ignorant of current technology, or financially unable, to procure exactly what products were new on the market. In order to protect their investments their equipment must be brought up to date. It was the goal of MarSin Falcon to assist those companies against potential threats.

  As he and his colleagues analyzed the challenges faced by small business and local law enforcement, he was confident improper or insufficient evidence would be eliminated with newer security products. In his wife’s accident and death, it could have been the sole factor determining a more efficient investigation.

  Adamant he’d discovered the culprit of inefficiency, Carter brought this to the attention of his friends. As the men debated the topic over darts and a few beers, they, too, couldn’t understand it. They decided they would make a difference. They brainstormed, putting their ideas together to eliminate the obstacles. That night, through very lively discussion, the three came up with a plan. The result was MarSin Falcon, Inc.

  Marcus, Falcon, and Carter were men for whom justice was in their DNA. Their new business would be a two-fold company. When they laid out their mission statement, they believed affordable security services should be a right, not an entitlement. The first need to address was of small business owners. The other would address individual security needs.

  While he was living on the eastern shore, Carter worked for Declan. One of those duties was to provide protection to high profile individuals for The Studio, and Bella Matrix. Those with prominent profiles warranted singular security, occasionally. From actors and models to local judges and politicians, bodyguard services were provided. A division of the company would specialize in this.

  As they discussed this topic, the three agreed this would be Marcus’ area of expertise. He confided to them he had intimate knowledge of the need for personal protection in domestic violence. A friend of his sister had been in a violent relationship. The woman was been married to a powerful businessman, and because of his money, he glided above the law. Payoffs and favors to the local police made the woman’s protection insufficient. As the bastard used his wife as a punching bag, his money blinded the eyes of those who could have saved her. When the woman finally had the courage to leave him, she knew she was taking a chance with her life. Marcus said she didn’t have the money for protection. The result of that injustice was her death. When Marcus heard the gruesome details of her death from his sister, it inspired him to make a change for women like her. As a red belt, Brazilian Martial Arts Master, as well as an eighth degree Dan in Krav Maga, he wanted to not only provide security to those who could afford it, he also wanted to have a pro bono program for women in crisis.

  Falcon Gray was ex-elite forces. His time in the military had served him well. He was confident in his ability to work with both sides of their new business. He was more than confident he could discern the safety needs of one person, or an entire company. Efficient at revealing potential risks, the military capitalized on his ability to scope potential threats, and eliminate them. He had a very serious personality, rarely joked, and suffered comments which compared him to a machine. He let them believe whatever they wanted. His friendship with Carter and Marcus was one of the few areas he let his guard down. Most times he was amused by them, but he often warned them, in jest, to back off or face the consequences. Needless to say they both laughed in his face, telling him to bring it on. Falcon knew his reputation, and assured them the only reason he didn’t kick their asses was because they were friends.

  Their common ground was Lacey’s death. Fal and Marc loved her and she constantly called them out. She puzzled them with her ability to see the gray area of life. Troopers usually saw life in black and white. She challenged them constantly over dinner and a few beers. They remembered Lacey as a tiny thing with a powerful attitude. She had a way of making them feel like they were family, and since neither were married, she tried to fix them up with her friends. In their opinion, her death was inexcusable. Before he left to help his brother, they talked many times about the deficiencies in her murder investigation. They became familiar with Marisol Franzi’s case. They learned of potential loopholes created during h
er arrest, and could only hope no one brought those to the attention of her attorney.

  Carter crossed one leg over the other, put his feet on the desk, and linked his hands behind his head. He speculated about the direction of the new company, and as he looked around, he was satisfied with how his office turned out. There was a hint of melancholy though, as it was the first change he’d made to the house. It made him feel like he was moving forward, instead of stagnating.

  The other two men also had offices in their homes. As the three evaluated their need for commercial space, they agreed they would be less conspicuous this way. They would rely on more personal methods of marketing. Word of mouth was always good. Personally, he liked living and working low key. Since he’d just returned many people would stop him to talk about Lacey. He didn’t want to talk about her. He preferred to keep his memories private.

  So much had changed since he’d left Deep Creek. He’d had a lot of time to reflect, and he constantly self-analyzed. Mostly, he’d begun to think about what he wanted for the future. It had been a long time since he’d been selfish about his own wants, and not what everyone else needed. He tried to fix everyone’s problems. He was trying to change in his personal life, but at least he could use the habit more constructively in the business.

  He thought about the first time he’d stepped up to be superman. It was for his first love; his mom. He tried to make things better for her. After his father left she was depressed at times. The responsibility of bills and two boys was the culprit—or at least it’s what he thought. He tried to help her, doing odd chores for neighbors, going to the grocery store, and getting little things for the family with his own money. He knew his mom would never take it if he offered. To make her smile, he’d get on Declan about making the bed or raking the leaves, anything to be a support for his mom.

  When he met Lacey, he instantly fell in love with her. He questioned whether he loved her so much because of his own heart, or the fact she and his mother got along so well. His proposal to Lacey made his mom happy—in fact, Lacey made everyone happy. Because she was so good at generating joy in the lives of everyone else, Carter stepped up and concentrated on creating joy for her. Lacey had high standards. She expected everyone to use their abilities in a positive way. Having a perfectionistic personality, he was always trying to make a better version of himself. He relentlessly endeavored, driving himself crazy, but it made complete sense to him. When Lacey was happy, he was happy.

  He was now beginning to accept he could do whatever he wanted. When he was at his brother’s he began to make friends. Again he fell into old habits and they only knew him as a comfort and support for Declan. He never tried to change their opinion, letting them believe what they would, but his own personal revelations were taking root, and the craving to be himself was slowly evolving. The true personality was breaking through and he didn’t want to be happy all the time. It was perfect timing when he came home. His friends probably wouldn’t like the real him anyway.

  Stacking books on the shelves in his new office, the newspaper article about Marisol’s arrest fell out of one of them. He took a moment to reread it. There were so many unanswered questions and he felt his blood pressure rise. Although he hoped justice would prevail, he could feel the tightening in his temples that warned of a headache.

  Marisol’s confinement affected him much less than her sister’s death. Another death—Marchelle’s—caused him to become introspective and jaded. He was partially to blame for the mistake which took the life of an innocent woman. Marchelle was a victim. Marisol consumed her sister with her appetite for control. It proved deadly for the poor woman, and her wrongful death weighed bitterly on him.

  Carter hadn’t visited Marisol. He didn’t trust himself. He heard about the possibility Marchelle was the driver in Lacey’s accident. Honestly he couldn’t believe that Marisol, somehow, hadn’t played a larger role in the crime.

  As she lay dying, Marchelle repeated over and over she was “so sorry”. Once he’d had time to process everything that happened, it became clear to him the forgiveness she sought was for her part in Lacey’s death. There was no doubt she’d only played a part. Marisol would have the police believe Marchelle was the cold- blooded one. Upon questioning, she told the police Marchelle knew she’d hit Lacey and kept going anyway. His gut instinct told him she was lying through her teeth. He initially wanted vengeance, but over several months he felt something else about him change; he was more accepting. Living more in the moment since he’d come home, he’d become more isolated, even a bit reclusive, but it was okay with him.

  There was a strange sort of contentment associated with it. He felt more in touch with himself, and as a matter of fact, he welcomed it.

  Standing, he took a long stretch. Since he put a more masculine feel on this room it was no longer saturated with memories of Lacey. It was a step forward into his future. He was excited about MarSin Falcon. It was time for a change.

  He made a distinctive clicking sound on the inside of his cheek, and Cody responded. The two of them went together to the kitchen because his furry friend reminded him that it was time to feed them both.

  Pulling at the fridge door, the lilac bush outside the window caught his attention. It looked overgrown and unkempt, and was due for a trim. If Lacey were alive he would have jumped right on it, knocking it off of his honey do list. It was nice to not feel an urgency to take care of it. He simply stared at it as he cracked open a Michelob. As happened more frequently than he liked, muddled thoughts crept in. They were a mixture of emotions. It was good he was home to sort them out, especially since he didn’t feel fit for company. Sometimes he sat and allowed them to assault him—other times he rationalized and strategized how to turn the thoughts into actions. Today was productive. He didn’t have time to wallow in the what if or if only thoughts, so he went back to the office.

  The cold bottle began to form sweat in his hand as he looked around. He’d put the last piece of furniture in its place and breathed in the pungent aroma of new leather. Feeling somewhat accomplished, he relaxed and sipped, enjoying the chill and flavor of the beer. Once again, he felt his fluffy girl rub up against his leg.

  “Missed me, huh?” he said to Cody as her tail whipped back and forth to get his attention.

  “We’re a fine pair. We both need to get off our asses,” he said to her as she plopped down beside him. “You’re getting spoiled”.

  For a moment, he thought about how all of this transpired. The grainy photo was the seed. If anything, Marisol’s evil birthed a good idea. It was the catalyst which launched his newfound direction. Marcus and Falcon were both aware of the anger and turmoil he’d gone through. It was his crossroad. The importance of moving forward where he could rationalize his past, and concentrate on a future, weighed heavily on him, and the saying first things first came to mind.

  . Marisol had been the mastermind behind his two major life events. He was hoping the new business venture could assist in proving her guilt. Where Marisol was concerned, he hoped it would close any of the potential loopholes he’d heard about. He wanted her to be locked away for good.

  Revenge… it would be sweet.

  What the hell was with the Americans? Did no one value time?

  He sat in the office of Mari’s attorney… and waited. He hated waiting.

  Despised it, actually.

  Manny perused Mr. Dietz’s scholastic accomplishments which were proudly displayed in cheap frames on the wall. Why Mari would choose this attorney above other, more competent ones, he couldn’t fathom. The man’s expertise had nothing to do with the criminal defense she desperately needed, and it proved she wasn’t thinking clearly. However, since this man obviously had a history with her it was necessary to meet with him. Manny intended to merely clarify what was, or was not, expected of the attorney, thus serving several purposes. The first item on the agenda would be to inform Mr. Dietz that Manuel Vallega did not tolerate tardiness.

  As he continued to
scan the room he noted the office held little appeal, so he expected as much from its owner. The furnishings were quite ordinary, almost sterile in fact.

  It was Manny’s opinion that business associates felt more confident simply by the image you projected—first impressions are lasting impressions, as one would say. A workplace should successfully reflect the caliber of the man who possessed it. Manny’s office certainly did. His was large and bright with furnishings made of strong woods and leather. It shouted power and elegance to all who entered.

  Mari, too, always said appearance is everything. Before becoming Carlos’ successor, he thought the statement superficial, but once he comprehended it, he found it to be true. Simply by using expensive suits and rich furnishings he commanded respect. It was a case of smoke and mirrors which enabled him to easily manipulate the transfer of power from his predecessor to himself. Much was expected of him from Carlos’ associates, and Manny more than delivered. He proved himself quite capable in every aspect of business, and represented the cartel well. He would admit Mari had been correct—appearance was everything.

  He felt a rush of air behind him, and the door squeaked on its hinge as Mr. Dietz entered the room. The attorney went directly behind his desk, smoothing his pants and jacket. He leaned forward and folded his hands in front of him. Manny found himself judging the man harshly. He hadn’t extended his hand to shake. That would be considered disrespectful in his circles.