by Chris Bostic
He lifted my chin to look into my eyes. “You, or...this?” He waved an arm around the crime scene, hovering mostly over the body.
“I don't even know. I'm numb.”
“The crying says otherwise.” He ran a thumb across my cheek to wipe away the moisture. “It's gonna take time. Believe me.”
“I do.” A fresh round of tears threatened to spill.
"I didn't feel right for days, maybe weeks, when Harrison died.” He looked to the ceiling. “Guess I never have since, and he wasn't a piece of shit like this disgrace to the uniform.” He exhaled. “It was hard when Ringo lost his leg…and Paulie with his eye. But that all happened to them, not me. No one tried to rape….” His voice faded. “Dammit, I'm sorry. Again. I don't need to remind you.”
“It's okay. It's not like I'm ever gonna forget.”
“That's true.” He squeezed me harder. I felt the tightness in my chest. Panic surged. I couldn't speak. I don't know if he sensed it or what, but Vince relaxed his grip, sliding his hands down to my waist. “I wish I could say it gets better.”
“I think we all know it won't.”
“That's not what I meant.” He smiled sadly and whispered, “Someday it will.”
I don't know how much longer we stood in the hallway, his hands on my waist, swaying like two old people in the world's longest slow dance.
After a while, Vince gently guided me over to where he could lean up against the wall, next to the bathroom door. I later realized he was also shielding me from the body.
Finally, in a break between waves of fear and anxiety, I took a lucid moment to stare up at him. “We need to go.”
“Yeah. Whenever you're ready.”
“Ready as I'll ever be.”
He nodded and let go of my waist. I grabbed him by the wrist, so he couldn't get farther away. I needed him at my side.
“Hey, Vince.”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. That was very brave…and way more than anyone has ever done for me.”
He stood there dumbfounded, like he didn't deserve thanks for saving me.
“You had my back when I needed it the most.”
“I already told you,” he shook his head, “I should’ve been there sooner. My damn drinking nearly got you-”
Suddenly the roles reversed. He choked up. I wiped a tear from his cheek, then the strangest, most unexpected thing happened.
I kissed him. Not on the cheek.
He kissed me back with far more passion than I expected. It felt good. Truly amazing, really. I leaned into him, and he grabbed me by the small of the back. This time the tightness didn't bother me. I pushed him up against the door.
It opened, and we staggered into the bathroom, nearly falling in the process. But he kept a strong grip on me, steadying me. Pushing me up against the wall. Picking me up so I could wrap my legs around his waist.
Things were getting completely out of hand—until his hand cupped my face.
I recoiled.
“Shit!” He sat me down and pulled away to stare, not that he could see much by the light of a glow stick fallen to the floor. “You-”
“It's okay.” I rubbed the bruised cheek. “It's just sore where he hit me.”
We stood there staring at each other. I swear his eyes smoldered. I sensed a mixture of longing and protectiveness. It nearly hypnotized me, but the waves kept crashing.
The new tide coming in washed away the moment, bringing another round of anxiety. Maybe some shame. But not regret. Not at all, at least not at that moment, and that was the most surprising thing.
I had always heard stress brought on weird reactions. Sudden closeness to people, even strangers. Romantic feelings, of being wanted or needed. Now I had proof that it sure as hell happened. But it usually didn't last, or so I had to assume. When the stress faded away and life went back to normal, the closeness evaporated.
But not with someone you already knew? Not if the stress continued? Not if life never went back to normal? Not if both people were flawed?
“Grace?” Vince squeezed my hand softly. “You ready?”
“Not for more of whatever that was.”
I hadn’t meant the not part, but I suppose my conscience tried to exert a little control. Poor Vince almost looked hurt, which hadn't been my intention either. But he was also engaged to my best friend, tenuously or not.
“We shouldn't do that again.”
“Probably not,” he agreed, but not confidently.
“Probably not?”
He didn't answer, which was all I needed to know. As if the day hadn't been awful enough already. Nothing like a side of forbidden fruit with rape and justifiable homicide. At least the kiss felt good. Not right, but damn good.
I kissed Vince again. And again. Still inside the bathroom, of all places. But way better than that damned hallway.
Our lips crushed together. He ended up pushed back against the door, his body keeping it closed that time. His hands raced up my sides, light touches that brushed my skin. Goosebumps rose as he caressed me, then pulled at the scraps of my tank top.
The fabric tore.
I pushed off him, leaving him panting against the door. I caught my breath long enough to say, “Now we're done.”
“My God.” He bit his lower lip, gazing at me intently. After a deep breath, he straightened and flashed a quick grin. “If you say so.”
CHAPTER 22
After a brief, sidelong glance down the hallway, including at the body behind us in the hallway, I pulled Vince toward the tasting room.
“Why this way?” he asked.
“I just remembered he said something weird. Something about joining us in the tasting room.”
I suddenly quieted. The thought of him saying tasting so lewdly sent me back into my shell.
Vince didn't press the issue. He kept pace with me, walking side by side, carrying the umbrella shard at his side. He wasn't especially spry. I could tell he was favoring the bad ankle by the way he practically dragged the one leg. But he didn't complain about that or make mention of the headache that had sent him to the couch. Perhaps the adrenaline had taken care of that.
At the double doors, we stopped. I didn’t expect to find anyone, having not seen or heard a thing during the deadly struggle. But we had to check.
Vince leaned up against the glass and shielded his eyes with his hands. “It's too dark.”
He fished the white glow stick out of his pocket and held it out to me. I hadn't even seen him pick it up, but that was no surprise. I was already blocking out memories, although there was a particularly recent one my guilty mind couldn't forget.
I showed him I still had the green one, which I’d picked up off the bathroom floor.
“You good with green?” he asked.
“Sure.”
Vince pushed the door open, umbrella dagger at the ready. He held the glow stick in front of him like a candle and stepped forward to enter the room first.
“Anyone there?” he called out.
We heard a muffled reply. I couldn't make out a single word, or even male or female. It sounded like the speaker was gagged underwater.
Vince took a couple steps inside. I stayed close behind.
With both our lights, we could make out the general layout of the room. Three rows of long tables and chairs filled the room from one side to the other, left to right. Across the front, a high table was set up next to a large cabinet that presumably held the product to be tasted.
Still no sign of the muffled voices. We stepped farther inside and the sound came from behind us. Frantic.
We spun around to find June on the floor in the back corner. She was next to a denim covered lump that wasn't moving.
“June! Mike!”
We ran to them. She had a bar towel wrapped around her face, tied tight to where it split her mouth to nestle between her teeth. I went to take off her gag while Vince looked at Mike. My heart thrummed like crazy. I could barely work my fingers. June twisted h
er head, helping my clumsy fingers get some leverage. Finally I got it loose.
“He'll come back. Hurry.”
“The soldier?” I asked, though the answer seemed obvious enough.
“Yeah.” She rotated so I could get to her hands tied behind her back.
I noticed her clothes weren't ripped like mine. Thank God. Anyone who would rape a pregnant girl was even sicker than I’d thought possible.
“Which one?” I asked. “The shorter, bigger one?”
“Uh huh.”
“Don't worry about him,” I said as I fumbled with the paracord around her wrists.
I stressed out trying to get it loose, frustration building. I got a strange sensation of being trapped in that room. Of the other soldier coming back.
I sat back, going into full defense mode again. Fists clenched, eyes scanned the room.
“What about the other guy?” I muttered through gritted teeth.
“He's gone. He was arguing with the other soldier about finding whiskey or something and took off...before the other one attacked us.”
“That's good, I guess.” I still couldn't relax, so I shook my head to clear the cobwebs and went back to work on freeing her hands.
Vince had Mike sitting up, his hands also bound like June’s. “What happened to him?”
“He knocked him over the head. Right when we went into the room, the bastard turned on us.” Panic rose in her voice. “I couldn't get him to wake up. Is he alright?”
Vince nodded. “I think so. There's a pulse.”
“Thank God,” June and I said in unison.
Vince had him untied before I could get June undone. Maybe it was easier with him being unconscious, or so I told myself.
They had both been tightly bound in paracord, which I assumed the soldiers had carried in their camo pants. It was tough stuff. That elicited yet another flashback as to what could've happened if Vince hadn't come to my rescue.
“What happened to you?” June asked while Vince took over trying to get her loose.
“Don't ask,” I said. “It's been a helluva shitty day.”
“Your clothes, though.” She looked over her shoulder at Vince suspiciously. Turning back to me, she mouthed, “Did he?”
“Hell no.” I swallowed and spoke aloud for the first time about what had happened. She sat back and listened attentively, throwing in more than the requisite number of apologies. If I ever heard I’m sorry again, it would have been too soon.
“I thought he was gonna do that to me, right after he knocked him out and tied us up.” June gestured toward Mike with her head. As she rubbed her meager paunch of a pregnant belly, she spoke, perhaps subconsciously. “But after his little argument with his buddy, he took off down the hall for a while.”
June sat up and massaged the red indents on her wrists, and thanked Vince. “Then the guy came back only to say he heard noise out in the lobby and he'd be back.” She frowned. “Told me to keep quiet and stuffed those rags in our mouths.”
“He ambushed me,” I said. “Heard us coming and waited for me. The son-of-a-bitch.”
“Damn little good it did him.” Vince said softly. “We got the last laugh, or whatever...you know?”
I nodded, provoking a question from June. So we told her how Vince had inadvertently killed him with an umbrella crack to the head. Or maybe it was when he hit the floor. Either way, the damage had been done.
A long pause filled the room. I went over to sit next to Vince, who periodically checked Mike's pulse.
“Rub his sternum?” I said, more as a question. “I hear they do that to overdose victims to bring them back...before the Narcan.”
“I'll try it,” he said.
Nothing happened at first. We sat there in silence for a while longer. Vince gazed around the room as he rubbed his knuckles up and down over Mike's breastbone. Then, out of the blue, he said, “It’s a tasting room. Do you think they have anything to taste in here?”
I shot him a withering look, and he clarified. “Sometimes they have water. Remember the tastings at Angel's Envy and Heaven Hill? You know, where they tell you to put a couple drops in the bourbon to open it up.”
It seemed doubtful, but worth a try while we waited for Mike to wake up. Especially since there had been towels there.
I hopped up. “The faucet in the bathroom didn't work but we might get lucky.”
It sounded like Vince muttered, “We’re overdue for some luck.”
I went to the cabinet by the table and found a little sink built into the top. Of course, it didn’t work. So I settled for rummaging through the cabinet.
“Not looking good,” I called back after opening the big doors on top and finding nothing. “Why’s everything empty around here?” I wailed. “Not even a damn souvenir.”
June looked at me funny.
“I could use a new shirt.” I snapped the exposed bra strap to punctuate the point.
“I didn’t even think about that.” Vince straightened up from working on Mike to start pulling off his t-shirt. “Take mine.”
I held up a hand. “It’s okay. I mean at least I’m still kinda covered.”
“Barely.”
I saw him bite his lower lip again. Usually that didn’t do it for me, but I tingled. My cheeks warmed, or maybe it was the bruise burning.
Either way, the greedy flash of his eyes took me off guard. I was completely down with the thoughts his eyes betrayed, but couldn’t help but be shook at the same time. The tide kept ebbing and flowing; the last wave bringing back a visual of the dead creep leering at me. I tried to blink it away, but it was no use.
“Alright,” I said. “Gimme the shirt.”
He took off his favorite You Had Me At Bourbon t-shirt, balled it up, and tossed it across the room to me.
I put it on over my tank, drowning in it, but oddly comforted. Mostly from the lack of any sweet cologne, or so I assumed.
While Vince checked on Mike, I went back to the cabinets. In the lower drawers, I found stacks of bar towels. That was it.
“No luck.”
“We’ve had a little,” a shirtless Vince replied, standing to check on me. He looked damn good too. Solid. Fit. Chiseled, but not with all the veins poking out.
“Goddammit,” I muttered. Blinking again as the seas of my mind morphed into a tsunami of raw, needy emotions. Pete had never stirred anything like that before, but I couldn’t be sure that it wasn’t just the situation. I never thought much of Vince until he’d saved my life. Maybe that made me a closed off, self-centered little bitch.
“Grace?”
“Hey, Grace,” Vince echoed June’s call.
“I heard you guys.” I shook my head. “What’s the good news?”
“I think your trick’s working. Mike’s coming around.”
“That’s something.” I hurried back over and slid in next to them.
Mike moaned. June took his hand and squeezed it while Vince went back to rubbing his chest.
An eye popped open. It closed about as quickly, followed by a longer, deeper moan.
“My head.” Mike scrubbed at his eyes with his free hand, though remaining prone on the hard floor. “It’s splitting.”
“I can relate,” Vince whispered, making me realize I hadn’t bothered to ask him what kind of shape he was in. “Can you sit up?”
“Who said that? June?”
I almost laughed since it had clearly been a guy speaking. I thought I might save that to make fun of Vince later.
“June Bug? Honey?”
I traded a glance with Vince, wondering if he shared the same thoughts about these two being a couple. Mike sure talked about her with reverence. It was honestly lovely, especially with the way my feelings were all out of whack.
“I’m here,” she said softly.
He blinked an eye open and got a face full of Vince’s bare chest. Then squinted. “Who’s that?”
“Grace and Vince are with me.”
“Oh.” A thin smile cra
cked his lips. “That explains a lot.”
“Quite a sight to wake up to, isn’t it?” I said with a mocking grin.
“Speak for yourself.” Vince lifted his chin proudly. “I can think of worse things. You looked in the mirror lately?”
The room got deathly quiet.
“Oh, fuck. Grace….”
I waved him off. I knew it wasn’t pretty as much as I knew he was joking. Still, the jab stung. That was undeniable.
“Jesus, dude,” June ripped into him, surprising me with her cursing. “Are you fucking serious? What a stupid thing to say.”
He hung his head. “I know. I’m an idiot.”
“Damn right you are.”
“It’s fine,” I told June. “That’s just what we do. We’re always picking on each other.”
“That’s weird as hell. If somebody talked to me like that, I’d…I’d….”
“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Vince mumbled.
“It’s this ugly shirt, anyway,” I tried to tease back. “That’s what you meant, right?”
He kept staring at the ground. As long as he played the victim game, I wasn’t going to cut him any slack. Poor Vince needed to learn that he couldn’t play the joker, make insensitive comments, and think it was okay.
Then he looked up with true remorse. More of the raw emotion he’d showed recently, and I let him off the hook. Before he could apologize, I cut him off.
“Save it. We need to get outta here.” I looked to Mike. “Are you ready to go?”
“As I’ll ever be, young lady.”
CHAPTER 23
“Okay, but where to?” I asked once Mike got to his feet. He seemed even wobblier than Vince, but at least somewhat ambulatory.
“There’s only one way,” June said.
“So back down the hallway.” Vince looked at me.
“Past the dead guy.” I shrugged. “Why not?”
“That’s one way to look at it,” June said.
“Or not look at it,” I mumbled.
We headed back down the corridor, Vince in the lead. I stayed right behind him and had already planned to look the other way when we got to the body.
Curiosity won out. I had to know the creep was still there, and not run off to terrorize me again.