by J. J. McAvoy
“Agh!” I screamed when his hands grabbed my legs, pulling me under with him. Bubbles all around us, he kissed me, and instinctively, I wrapped my arms around his neck, his arms wrapping around my waist.
We stayed under there until our lungs forced us back to the surface. As I gasped for air and wiped the water from my eyes to glare at him, I couldn’t talk because of that damn grin of his.
“There are easier ways to tell me you are okay,” I whispered.
“But are there better ways?” He lifted my chin, leaning into me again.
“Hold it,” Hanako yelled at us, and he froze, remembering that we were working and that this wasn’t our pool.
“Okay, Noah. Lift her up out of the water for me, and Amelia, can you look down at him?” Following her directions, I was able to stare into his eyes. Despite his smile and the love I knew he had for me, though, I could still see the pain in his eyes. We were just trying to live—why was it so messy?
This was the only simple moment of my life—when he was holding me.
“I love you.” They were the only three words I could think to say. It was my promise. I would love him no matter what.
Chapter Five
Noah
Chicago.
“They tell me you are wicked, and I believe them. They tell me you are crooked, and I answer: Yes. Gunmen kill and go free to kill again. Flinging magnetic curses, fierce as a dog, cunning as a savage pitted against the wilderness. Stormy, husky, brawling, the City of the Big Shoulders,” I whispered, blowing smoke out the crack of the window and staring up at the buildings above me as they passed by in a blur of blue and gray. No matter what, there was always a gray glow over the city.
“Who was that from?” Amelia asked.
I glanced down at her as she rested her head on my shoulder.
“Why couldn’t I have come up with that?” I questioned, and she didn’t answer. Apparently I wasn’t poetic. “Carl Sandburg. But I butchered it.”
It was one of my favorite poems because it was the only one that adequately described what it was like to be from this city. The love/hate relationship we all had, the relief we felt to leave, and the relief we felt to come back. It was always trying to kill us, and we were always fighting to live anyway. If you could survive here, you could survive anywhere. That was the lesson I had learned.
“Amelia, we’re here,” Austin said when the car came to a stop.
She didn’t move.
“Amelia.”
Sighing, she sat up, her face whipping back to me. She grabbed my face, hers only inches from me.
“I don’t understand everything. I know you’re about to do something. I don’t care what it is. Just be safe, you hear me?”
Damn, I loved her. “Loud and clear.”
Nodding, she grabbed her purse, sliding out of the car. I didn’t want to bring her at all, but she wasn’t having it, and so the best I could do was make her promise to stay in a hotel while I head back “home.”
“Daniel, you’ll be staying with her,” I said to him, and without arguing, he got out of the car as well.
Austin and I exited on the same side of the car. He left the passenger door open and went around to the driver’s side. Luckily, since we had lied about where we were going to be on Twitter this morning, the press wasn’t here, though that would change the moment someone found out.
Plus, we had chosen an old black Honda, something that wouldn’t stick out much to drive in.
“How much did you bring?” I asked him when I sat down.
Pulling away from the hotel, he nodded at the briefcase by my feet. “Thirty large.”
“We don’t need that much—”
“They know who you are, Noah. They aren’t going to talk for less.”
Rubbing the side of my head, I tried to ignore the headache coming on.
“You good? You haven’t had an attack in three months. Is it the new meds—?”
“I’m not on the meds,” I replied.
“Goddamn it, Noah!”
“I’m fine.”
“Last time you said that, you needed rehab,” he muttered, shaking his head at me.
Sighing, I reached into the glove compartment, taking out the pill bottle.
“How did you know they were there?”
I glanced over to him, popping one in my mouth. “You’re kidding me right? Your brain only has one setting—”
“You mean keeping your ass alive and out of trouble.”
“Exactly.” I grinned, leaning against the seat. “You wouldn’t keep my pills anywhere I couldn’t reach if you weren’t around.”
“So this would be a good time for me to ask for a raise?” he mocked.
“A raise to what? Between Amelia and me, you’re probably one of the highest paid goddamn managers in the business.”
“But I’m not the highest, am I?”
I stared at him for a moment, and he looked over to me.
“What?” he asked.
I shrugged, facing forward once again. “Nothing. Just wondering how much it cost for your soul.”
“Let the bidding start at—”
“Just drive!” I ordered, trying not to laugh.
Despite his love for money, I knew Austin had his reasons.
There was line through Chicago, and you only realized it when you crossed over to the side where skyscrapers were replaced with condemned brick buildings, the windows boarded up and the walls covered in graffiti. Women, dressed in outfits that I’m sure belonged to their daughters or worse, in the garbage, stood blatantly on one corner. Teenagers huddled together on another like no one could see the packets being exchanged.
“Welcome home,” Austin said.
“Let’s get this over with,” I muttered, taking off my seat belt as we reached the bar. The sign read ‘Breakers,’ the ‘e’ and ‘s’ no longer lit. It used be the home of the Bone Breakers motorcycle club, but after a series of hard times, prison rides, and in-fights, it was just where grown men came to drink and piss away what was left of their lives. It was already 8 p.m., which meant that every man in the neighborhood over the age of twenty-five would be here.
A familiar smell of stale beer, cigarettes, sweat, and cheap perfume hung in the air when I stepped into the bar. The televisions replayed old Cubs games, though you would never know by the way were watching them. Twenty-five years—that’s how long you had to make it out, or you ended up like these sorry bastards.
“What the fuck, man?” the waitress snapped at me when I took the pitcher of beer out of her hands before she could make it to the table.
Holding it out in front of me, I let it go, allowing it to shatter all over the ground. And if it wasn’t so goddamn sad, I would have laughed at how quickly their heads turned back to me.
“I’m looking for Frank,” I said out loud.
“Good for fucking you! Ain’t no reason—”
“The next round for all you is on me,” I cut off the drunkard behind the bar, earning a round of cheers.
“I know you,” said an older man with a black bandana and a white beard that would put Santa Claus to shame. He stood up.
Jesus fucking Christ. Could you be any more of a stereotype right now?
“You’re Frank’s boy—”
“Not boy,” I cut him off. “If any one of you have any useful information about where my old man is, you’ll be rewarded for it—cash money. I’ll wait.”
I walked over to the corner table and kicked up my feet.
“Hey,” said the same waitress, the scowl on her face gone, and her breasts hanging further out of her shirt. She came up to me with a smile plastered all over her face. “Can I get you—?”
“Do you know where Frank Sloan is?” I asked.
“No—”
“Then I got nothing for you. But better luck next time,” I cut her off.
Just like magic, her face bunched up, the scowl returning in full force as she flipped me off and muttered something under her breat
h.
I could see them whispering among themselves. A few of them were even sizing me up.
Please don’t make this hard.
When I saw one of them grin and reach for what was either a brass knuckle or a knife in his pocket, I got up and walked over to the bar. There were two men working behind it—correction: one man and a boy. He had to be in his early twenties, but from the way he stood, he looked like a teenager stuck in a locker.
Leaning in, I smiled and said, “One Belhaven. And you’re going to need more ice.”
“What?” he questioned. The older man beside him just nodded.
“Pretty boy,” a voice said. I turned back to face the three idiots behind me with knives. “How about you give us the cash, and we let you make it home in one piece?”
The old man put the beer right beside me. Reaching over, I grabbed it and twisted the top off, my eyes never meeting theirs.
“Did you think this over?” I questioned before drinking.
“You think we fuckin’ playin’ with ya?” the second idiot shouted, spit landing on his own beard. “We’ll end you right here.”
“The money. Where it at?”
Sighing, I put my beer down and answered, “Next to your mother’s balls, ya bas.”
“You fuck—” The moment the first charged, knife out, I grabbed his arm, kneeing him in the stomach and slamming his face onto the bar when the second came up to me. I took the knife and stabbed him in the shoulder, and he went down quickly, leaving me standing face to face with idiot number three. Before he could blink, I had a .44 in his face, his eyes wide. For a split second, I saw him relax, which meant one thing.
Facing back, I fired once into the kneecap of the first idiot who didn’t know when to stay down, before pointing it back in front me.
“Would you like to rethink this decision now?”
He dropped the knife, backing away before making a run for it. Moving back over to the bar, I grabbed my beer, moved back to my table, and once again kicked up my feet.
Southbend had to be one of the few places were you could shoot a man in the knee and no one would bat an eye, let alone tell a soul. That, on top of the fact that Austin was blocking out all of the phones made it insanely easy for me to be here. Hell, some of them even looked bored. I didn’t blame them, but again, I would wait. Someone knew something.
Amelia
There has to be more I can do, I thought, stepping out of my heels and walking to the window.
I felt ornamental. I wanted to do something—truthfully, I wanted to be the badass. It was selfish, really, but I was annoyed that Noah had taken Austin with him. That he was the logical choice. But then again, what could I do other than make a bigger mess out of things?
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
“Mayko, hey,” I said into the phone, moving to take a seat on the couch.
“Hey, Amelia. I’m sorry to bother you. I know you’re super busy—”
“No, it’s fine, Mayko. What’s wrong?” She didn’t sound like her normal free self.
“I’ve been trying to contact mom …”
Shit.
We—Noah, Austin, and I—weren’t going to bring her up until New Year’s. Until then, I was just supposed to—
“Amelia?”
“Huh? I’m sorry, Mayko, I haven’t heard from her in a while. Is everything okay?” I questioned, playing with the chain around my neck.
“Yeah. I mean … no,” she sighed into the phone. “I know she’s flakey, but she was supposed to be getting an honorary award from W.E.W.A.—you know, Women Empowering Women Association. She made this huge deal about Antigone and I being there, and we get there an hour early, and she isn’t here yet. We tried calling all of her phones, and we even called her house in Miami, and she isn’t picking up. I’m getting a bad feeling.”
“Mayko, breathe.” Goddamn it. I had forgotten all about her award. She had talked about it earlier in the year, but like I’d learned to do with most things Esther said, I had tuned it out. “She most likely fell in love again and ran off to some island—like last time.”
“But—”
“What’s most important is apologizing to the W.E.W.A. Do you have their number? I could call in myself on her behalf or maybe promise to come next year?”
“Amelia, I’m so shitty with these kind of things,” she whined, reminding me again that she was only nineteen. “You think you can hop on a jet to Chicago?”
“It’s in Chicago? I’m here.”
“What? I thought you and Noah said you’d be in New York.”
“Long story. Send me the address, okay?”
She let out a sigh of relief. “God, you are a lifesaver.”
“Don’t thank me. I’m going to have to think of a speech … or you guys could come up on stage with me—”
“What was that Amelia? Sorry, they’re asking us for help with … with some stuff … see you soon! Love you. Bye!”
Dial tone.
I stared at the phone for a second before falling back to the couch. Even from beyond the grave, Esther still knew how to make it about her during the worst possible fucking times.
Buzz.
The text read, “37th Williams Ave. Crown Rose Hotel.”
Come on, Amelia.
I pushed myself off the couch and moved to my suitcase, pulling out a simple black knee-length fitted cocktail dress and my makeup bag, heading over to the bathroom. I didn’t have time to doll up more than throwing on some red lipstick and reapplying eyeliner. I pinned my hair into a side bun updo and took off all but one of my bracelets and rings.
“Daniel?” I said into the phone when I entered living room with my heels.
“Yes, ma’am,” his dull, deep voice resounded.
“I needed to be at the Crown Rose Hotel right now. Do you think you can get me another car?”
“Mr. Sloan said to make sure—”
“I’ll repeat myself. I need to be at the Crown Rose Hotel.”
Silence.
“Daniel?”
“I’ll get one now.”
“Thank you. I will be down in a few.” Hanging up, I sat down, applying lotion to my feet and legs before stepping back into the only pair of tan heels I had brought. Noah wanted to leave before I could really pack. I was lucky I even had a dress.
Thank you, Prada, I thought, closing the door behind me.
On the elevator, I thought about texting Noah, or at the very least Austin, but I had no idea what the hell could be going on with them. And right now, I needed to focus on honoring Esther, the woman I couldn’t even bear to call my mother anymore, for the Women Empowering Women Association.
The irony.
“Ms. London,” Daniel said, nodding as he waited in front of the hotel. Standing behind me, he led me out. To my relief, no press were here yet. I shivered as the wind blew right through me and all but jumped into the Escalade.
“We will be there in ten minutes,” he said.
“It’s that close?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Nodding, I watched the hotel fade into the background behind us. Watching the buildings around us change, I remembered the poem Noah had recited earlier. This was his home, and I knew hardly anything about it or the people around him.
“Daniel, how did you start working for Noah?”
“Austin found me.”
Of course, Austin the fucking puppet master.
“Yeah, but where? I’m sure you didn’t just fall out of the sky.”
For the first time, I saw him express an emotion aside from his usual serious face. His brown eyes met mine in the mirror.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
That got my interest.
“Try me,” I sat up.
“Pet store.”
What? “I’m sorry, what?”
He nodded. “I was working in a pet store when Austin came in searching for fish food for his German Blue Ram and Flowerhorn Cich
lid. He offered me a job when he saw me train the pit bulls.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out except a quick giggle. I tried to stifle it, but it turned into a full laugh.
“I’m sorry,” I said, laughing even louder. He wasn’t ex-Secret Service, military—hell, he wasn’t even a bouncer. He worked with pets. “It really isn’t that funny, but I can’t stop laughing.”
“It’s alright. I’m used to it. People see my size and get pretty intimidated. Austin got me some training after I got hired, but Noah Sloan is the first person I’ve been a bodyguard for,” he said with a sense of pride, and I realized then that he wasn’t Noah’s bodyguard.
No. He was the decoy. While everyone was worried about him because of his size, they were completely unaware that Noah’s real bodyguard was the thin man dressed in a bow tie right beside him.
“We’re here, ma’am,” Daniel said as he pulled to a stop in front of the hotel, then stepped out to open the doors for me.
He handed the keys to the valet before walking me in through the glass doors. There, waiting for me in the lobby, was Mayko. She wore a red pantsuit with no shirt underneath, while Antigone donned a yellow one-shouldered dress. Beside them both stood a stressed-out woman who ran up to me, causing Daniel to tense up.
“It’s fine,” I said quickly, and he moved away.
“Ms. London!” she gasped out like she was dying, reaching for my hands. “I’m Sara Lucas. Thank you for being here. We’ve been so worried after losing contact with your mother. Is she alright?”
She’s better than alright. She’s dead!
“I’m sure she is. I’m so, so sorry. Whatever you all need, I’ll be happy to help in her honor for the night.”
She reached into her bag and pulled out a photo a group of girls. “Every year, W.E.W.A. sponsors six girls from all over the world to come to America for a chance at furthering their educations. They are between the ages of thirteen and seventeen. We were hoping your mother—well, now you—could give them some words about being successful, or just any advice. Along with your mother’s acceptance speech, of course.”