by A. J. Blake
Theo, seeming to just notice the tattooed boy’s consciousness, flinched at his demand. “Oh, shit,” he said, “You’re awake.”
Able to work himself to his feet, London stood his ground, and said, “Who the fuck are you and what the fuck do you want with me?”
Raising his hands in carefulness, Theo smiled at London, “Damn, maybe I should have thought about restraining your legs. Let’s play nice, now. Don’t bite me.”
London looked about the room for anything he could use to free himself. There were no knives anywhere in the impressive basement, but if he could manage to get a hold of a sharp object, he’d be able to cut through this damn tie. Glaring darkly at Theo when he took a step closer, London didn’t think and charged him.
Knocking into the man, London tackled him to the floor with the brute force of his upper body. They landed on top of a glass table in the center of the floor, shattering the surface into jagged shards. He and Theo groaned upon the floor, but, quickly, London rolled onto his feet, searching for a piece of glass that’d surely do the trick.
Catching sight of one, before Theo could work himself up after having struck his shoulder blades painfully, London reached backwards for the glass and fixed it between his fingers. With haste, he dug the sharpness of the glass into the tie and cut it loose, freeing his wrists. Not even for a second did he contemplate staying behind to question Theo, instead he hightailed it for the stairs, bounding up each step until he reached the top.
When he threw open the door to race away, he jolted to a stop when the front barrel of a pistol stared him in the face, Vivian behind it with a scowl of anger furrowed into her brow. “Where do you think you’re going, sweetheart?”
With a swift kick, Vivian shoved London at the top of the stairs, sending the tattooed boy tumbling harshly down to the bottom.
London crashed onto his backside, slamming his shoulder into the hard wooden surface of the stairs, and then crumbled upon the tile flooring of the basement. He held his breath at the sharp line of pain ground into his lower back. Gripping his sore forearm, he hissed in agony, feeling as the fracture pinched into his bone.
Cocking the pistol, Vivian started down the stairway, “Theo!” she called, “I told you to come down here and wake him up not let him go. What the hell is wrong with you?” When she reached the bottom step, she witnessed her brother getting up from the litter of glass on the floor, wincing as he pulled tiny shards from his hands. “Goddammit,” she groaned, “Do you know how much that table costs!”
Working the joints in his wrist, London glared up at Vivian, head still slightly throbbing from the fumes used to bring him here and the fall. “You are one stupid bitch if you think you’re getting away with this.”
Pointing the pistol down at London’s face again, Vivian’s lip twitched, and she said, “But look who has the motherfucking gun. One more word and I will blow your brains all over my nice floor!”
Although a response itched to leave him, London bit his tongue. His tongue was sharp with remarks, but also knew when to shut his mouth.
Vivian laughed then, “Looks like you’re all talk, you little shit. What happened to ‘even if I had a gun to your chest’, huh? Oh, maybe it’s because I have it to your face, or maybe it’s because you like putting on that tough act. I always love how those who talk the most, shut up the fastest when the tables are turned against them. You thought you could just walk into Marbell’s life, walk into my life, and take everything from me? Well, good job!”
Ordering London from the floor, Theo grabbed him by the arms, locking them behind his back, and drove him across the basement. The fracture in London’s forearm ached when Theo threw him down again. He sat up against a wall beside a tall surround sound speaker, Vivian having taken a comfortable seat on the sofa faced his way. Crossing her slender legs, the woman set the pistol down beside her, Theo taking a stand behind his sister.
“Now that we’re all calm and collected,” Vivian smiled, “Let’s have a little chat. There are some things I wanted to get off my chest before I ultimately put you down like the damn dog you are.”
London never wanted to roll his eyes more than right now, but did his best to keep every speck of judgement to himself. Clearly this woman didn’t watch enough movies to know that talking was a villain’s greatest weakness.
Dumb bitch...
After parking in the driveway, Marbell hauled all of the things he’d purchased for Joyce up to the house, the little girl scurrying up beside him. He could see the living room light was still on inside, and unlocked the door with the key he’d been given before leaving earlier in the evening. “London, London!” Joyce shouted, ready to show her eldest brother the new clothes she’d gotten. As Marbell dropped the heavy weighted bags onto the couch in the living room, he smiled when Joyce came running back to him. “Bell, where London?” she asked.
Furrowing his brow, he said, “London’s not here?”
The little girl shook her head, “Where he go?”
Marbell thought of any places the tattooed boy could have run off to, the hospital being his only guess. But, given it was Monday, the city buses made their last round by nine, and London wouldn’t be able to take it back here to the house. “Hmm,” Marbell thought, “Let’s give him a call, then. How about that?”
Joyce smiled and nodded.
Pulling out his cellphone from the shoulder bag, Marbell speed dialed London’s number and pressed the phone to his ear. A couple rings in, the call went to voicemail. “This is London. Leave a message.”
“Huh,” Marbell huffed, “No answer.”
Joyce pouted her lip and Marbell could see that she was taking the absence of her brother a bit seriously. “Where he go?” she asked again, dropping her arms to her sides. “He come back?”
Given the little girl’s sudden worry, Marbell couldn’t help but catch a light wave of unease. London would have told him if he stepped out, right? Especially since it was after dark and he hadn’t his own car since Henry’s accident.
Henry.
Marbell pondered then, maybe he went to see Henry before the buses stopped running. Calling the phone in Henry’s hospital room, Marbell placed a hand on his hip and paced about the living and dining room. After a few rings, it was answered. “Hello?” Henry said, he sounded wide awake.
“Hey, Henry,” Marbell said, “You doing okay?”
The teenager seemed to adjust the phone, a rustle going on at the other end of the receiver. “Oh, yeah, I’m great. My nurse said I could go home Wednesday. I can’t wait to get out of this place. It’s so...depressing.”
Marbell smiled, thinking of him and London’s surprise to take Henry to the new house on that day. “I can’t wait for you to get out, either,” he admitted. “But, I was calling to ask you about London. Is he there with you at the moment?”
“London?” Henry said, confused, “No, I haven’t talked to him since this morning? Why...? You can’t find him?”
“Umm,” the last thing Marbell wanted to do was worry Henry about London’s whereabouts, but he couldn’t lie to him either. “I just got back to the house with Joyce, and London wasn’t here when we got back. I was just wondering if maybe he went to see you or something.”
“Well,” Henry said, “he didn’t, and even if he did, he wouldn’t be able to get back. The buses stop running by this time.”
Marbell sighed, “That’s what I was thinking.”
“Marbell, where’s my brother?”
At the suspicious tone in Henry’s voice, Marbell stopped his pacing and looked down at Joyce. Her curly red pigtails dangled behind her, and the gloom in her big pretty eyes glistened, threatening tears up at him. Here he was with London’s brother and sister and no idea where the tattooed boy was. He was well aware of how much Henry and Joyce depended on always knowing London would come back home, but with not being able to provide them with London was another story.
When Joyce’s lips began to quiver, Marbell said, “Henry, give m
e a couple minutes. I’m just going to try his phone again, alright?”
“Yeah,” Henry said, “Call me back if you don’t hear from him.”
Hanging up with the teenager, Marbell knelt down in front of Joyce, “Hey, there,” he cooed, “Please, don’t cry. I know–.”
“Where London?” she whimpered, rubbing her puffy eyes.
Marbell opened his arms and Joyce walked into them, closing herself in the teacher’s kind embrace. He was trying to keep a level head for her sake, not wanting to frighten Joyce with his own worry for London’s absence. Rubbing a hand on her back, Marbell said, “I have an idea, love. Let’s go ask Mrs. Campbell. Maybe she’s seen him.”
Joyce stepped away and nodded, taking Marbell’s hand when he started for the front door. Together, they crossed the lawn and looked both ways before heading to the other side of the street. A couple lights were still on in the woman’s house, and when Marbell knocked, she answered a moment later. “Oh, hi,” she said, still not having gotten used to seeing Marbell around, “Can I help you?”
“London gone,” Joyce said firstly. “We not see him.”
Mrs. Campbell looked from the four-year-old to Marbell. Giving him a confused stare, she said, “Is something wrong?”
“I – uh – I just got back from the store a few minutes ago,” Marbell said, “and he wasn’t home when we got here. The front door was locked from the inside still, and he doesn’t have any other transportation. I was wondering if maybe you’ve seen him in the last thirty minutes or so. I’m not going to lie, I’m really worried, right now.”
Mrs. Campbell could see the distress Marbell was trying his best to hide. His fingers on the hand not clutched by Joyce were fidgeting, and there was a troubling gaze in his light brown eyes that couldn’t go unnoticed. If anything, he wasn’t just worried, he was absolutely afraid. “I’m really sorry,” she said, “I haven’t seen or talked to him since yesterday. We were talking about you as a matter-of-fact, but other than that, no, I wouldn’t be able to even guess where he could be. I know he did used to step out a lot after Henry and Joyce went to bed, but ever since you’ve been in the picture, I think, he’s stopped with a majority of the late nights.”
Marbell sighed, “Alright, then. I’m sorry for bothering you at this hour.”
“It’s no problem, honey.” When Marbell took a step back with Joyce, Mrs. Campbell stopped him, and said, “I could watch Joyce while you go out and look for him? She’ll be tired in a little while anyways.”
“Are you sure?” Marbell asked, “It wouldn’t be too much?”
“Not at all,” the woman smiled, holding a hand out for Joyce. “Come on, beautiful, you want to help me make some cookies? I’ve got those double fudge ones you like so much.”
Rubbing her eyes sadly, Joyce nodded and went with Mrs. Campbell, leaving Marbell grateful that the woman was so kind as to take her away for now. He didn’t need Joyce to worry as much as he was right now. Crossing back to the house, Marbell sat on the front porch and dialed London again and again and again, each time leaving a voice message for him to come back. He decided if London didn’t answer him, or come back in thirty minutes, he was going to the police for help. It was the last place he wanted to go, but the only place he could think of.
With an aching forearm and sore backside, London sat up against the far wall as Vivian and Theo watched him smugly. He wondered shortly if his disappearance had been noticed by now, hoping that Marbell was back at the other house by now to find him missing. He never wanted Marbell to have to worry about him like this, especially since London was always so confident in himself and his willpower, but he knew damn well he was no match against tempted bullets, no matter who was behind the gun. Whether Vivian had a decent or poor aim, if she was able to lodge a few rounds into him, he’d be dead.
“Where shall we begin?” Vivian said, sat back on the sofa with her legs crossed elegantly, “Maybe I’ll start with something nice and juicy for you. My brother and I are the ones that put yours in the hospital earlier this week.”
London’s mouth opened as to speak, but he swallowed down his remark to the best he could. Instead, his dark, angry glare was the only thing to discern the mood he was in.
“To be frank with you,” Vivian twirled the pistol in her grasp, “It was supposed to be you, but your little shithead of a brother had to be the one behind the wheel at the time. Would you be so kind as to give him my regard? Oh, wait,” she laughed and nudged Theo, “I forgot, you won’t be seeing anyone ever again. The last pretty faces you’ll see before I end your life are mine and Theodor’s. That’s not so bad, right?”
Dragging frustrated hands down his face, London had never bit his tongue so hard. The things he wanted to say, slurs and insults wanted to leave him so bad, but he controlled himself.
He put his hands down when he suddenly heard his ringtone call out from across the room. It rang for a few seconds before voicemail picked it up, and as Theo dug the device from his back pocket, he grinned and showed the screen to his sister. “Would you look at that,” Vivian said, “My wonderful husband is probably so worried about his fuck buddy. Let’s see how many times he calls.”
London cursed in his mind when the phone went off several more times, and when she finally forwarded the last one to voicemail, Vivian unlocked the phone. “Six voice messages are waiting for you. Shall we listen to them?”
Vivian played out the first message.
“London, I don’t know where you are, but would you mind coming back? Whatever it is, I’m sure you can do it tomorrow. Give a call when you get this. I love you.”
She played the next. “Maybe you have your phone on silent or something? London, I’m not going to lie, I’m getting a little worried. Please, call me back.”
And the next.
“Joyce got scared when we saw you weren’t home, and I called Henry to ask if you were with him. I’m sure he’s pretty worried, too. Please, please just call me back or something. Please, London.”
When the last one came about, London could feel his chest constrict at the mere sound of Marbell’s voice. It was pleading and scared, and if he could see the man right now, he’d be able to perceive the panic in his eyes.
“London, it’s been half an hour, now. Where are you? Why aren’t you answering me? Henry is calling me on the other line, what am I supposed to tell him? Call me back, London. Please, if I don’t hear anything from you in five minutes I’m going to the police. This isn’t like you. Call me as soon–.”
Voicemail hung up on Marbell then, and London’s nerves shivered. He thought it was at least good that Marbell knew he wouldn’t just disappear without a word, but hearing the man so apprehensive made him feel out of control.
Tangling his fingers in the top of his fringe, London rest his face in his knees, and said, “For fucks sake, just let me go! I swear on my life I won’t say a word about any of this if you just let me go back to my family. Murder charges are far more severe than fucking divorce, you–,” he cut himself off before the remark could leave him and screamed out his frustration.
“I already made up my mind,” Vivian yelled over him, “And I think it’s so cute you think I can’t get away with this. I always get what I want, London, and if I want you to die this night with a bullet lodged in your skull, or burn you alive down here in this basement, no matter which way, I’m going to get what I want, because I always get what I want. You should have stuck to selling your dick for money instead of prowling after my man. Now that you’ve pissed off the wrong woman, there’s no turning back from this.”
London had never wanted to hit a woman as bad as he wanted to right now. Was she actually this stupid, or was she playing around? It was hard to believe someone could really be so small minded and just plain dumb. She wanted him dead for taking away Marbell’s bank account, and even if he did die on this day, he was confident in thinking Marbell would never trap himself back in her clutches. He didn’t want to consider the idea of los
ing his life, but to know his brother and sister were safe with Marbell would be enough to send him off with ease.
Wait! What was he thinking about? “I’m not dying tonight or any time soon!” London shouted. “Try to shoot me if you want, you bitch! I’m not dying down here.”
“Oh, really,” Vivian smirked, raising the pistol on her hand. She stood as well, and aimed for London. “Tell me how it feels if this doesn’t kill you.” Then she pulled the trigger, sending a thunderous bang erupting inside the basement. The bullet sprang from the barrel and whistled towards its target, burrowing deep into the wood and then concrete structured within the wall on the right side of London’s head.
Covering his ears, London felt his heart race into a mode of horror, but he felt no pain, just the mild deafness from the loud bang of the gun. He met Vivian’s eyes then, and she smiled. “For the record,” she said, “I didn’t miss. Call me a bitch one more time and I’ll put the next one through your eyes.” She sat down again beside Theo on the sofa. “Besides, I didn’t really want to shoot you, anyways. What I had in mind involves a little more...heat.”
XXIII – Blaze
Time was up and Marbell’s worry for London hadn’t gone down a notch yet. No matter how many times he called his lover’s phone, it went straight to voicemail, never once picking up to relieve him of such stress. This was not like London to leave him, or his brother and sister for that matter, without a say as to where he was going, or a given time of his return. The first thing that was always on London’s mind, was making sure he got back to Joyce and Henry...and he was gone without a trace.
Marbell’s next idea was to go to the police when something hit him. London has been missing now for at least an hour, and given he was over the age of eighteen, authorities wouldn’t care even a little until after 24 hours was up, and even with the time, since he was a grown man in perfectly good health, they wouldn’t take it as seriously. Children were the only one’s police put more focus on when missing cases came up, and London, in no way, fell into that category. If Marbell went to the police, they would send him away and tell him to wait, especially since London had also disappeared once in his life.