Breyson
The car is due to arrive in ten minutes. My bags are packed and I'm more than ready to get out of here. On another note, seeing Maria's face causes me a bit of an emotional set back. I can tell she really is going to miss me and that speaks volumes.
I'm standing at the door with the three of them lined up before me. Antonio walks up to me first and places his hand on my shoulder. "Son, you know you're always welcome here. I want you to remember that and anytime you want to get away, just come here and you have a place to stay."
Antonio is more of a non-verbal person. He keeps to himself, but only speaks when necessary. He doesn't show his emotions very often and so we've never gotten real personal. "I'll be back. I'm not sure if I have ever told you, but I want to thank you for giving me a place to stay when I had nowhere else to go and for giving me a job."
He squeezes my shoulder and his jaw muscle begins flexing back and forth. He takes a minute to speak before he clears his throat. "It may have started as a job, but that was just the key that brought you here. It has turned into so much more. This is your home and we are your family. Never forget that."
Maria comes forward almost in a sprint and wraps her arms around me. I return the embrace. "Don't keep your adoptive mother waiting too long before you come back, okay?" She whispers in a whine next to my ear between sniffles.
"I won't. I promise. I love you, Mom." When the words come out of my mouth her crying becomes a little heavier. She lets go and kisses my cheek.
"I love you too, Son. Take care of yourself. You have my number, yes?" I nod. "Use it. I want to hear from you at least once a week. Will you do that?" I nod again and look at Marcus standing back.
He is staring off into space, zoned out. I wave him over. "Come here, Buddy." He walks toward me and stops beside Maria. I kneel down to his level. I gather my thoughts briefly before speaking. I remember something that I've held onto. It had no meaning until earlier today.
I reach into my pocket and pull out a silver anklet. A couple of months ago I went to see Dr. Rodriguez for one of our weekly chats. Usually, we met in town for lunch or I went to his home for dinner. One night when I was over we got to talk about the accident. I began asking questions that were plaguing my mind, such as, why didn't anyone report the wreckage or me being found to discover my whereabouts or identity. Another was my lack of identity when I was found.
Sitting on the couch that night he told me everything he knew. He said that he was on-call and one of the local fishermen came in screaming and in a panic. Apparently, by the time they got to me most of the wreckage, except what I was holding onto, had already sunk to the bottom of the ocean. Since I clearly wasn't from Spain, they didn't know who to report me missing to, and I had lost a lot of blood from the gash on my head. The only thing the officials could come up with was that during the accident my belongings fell free from my body; all except one thing.
He had excused himself to his office. I had no idea what he was doing, but he brought back a small plastic bag holding this silver anklet. Hanging from it was a small silver heart with an engraving of initials on it. He said that he held onto it for me and in the process of everything had forgotten about it. He told me that when they took my clothes off of my body it was in the toe section of my shoe. He figured it was important if it was there, because it was the only thing on me.
Since that night I've carried it with me at all times. It was the only thing I had left of who I was. Today, I remember exactly where it came from. I remember the words that came from Kinzleigh's mouth on the night of homecoming when she gave me her heart. It's a treasure to me, but the real treasure is her. I don't need a piece of jewelry to remind me of that. Her heart is buried deep inside me, connected to mine. It's time to let it go to someone that I know will take care of it forever. "Do you see this?"
He nods as I dangle it in front of him. "This belonged to someone very special to me. She gave it to me on the night she gave me her heart. It's someone that I love very much. Someone I need to go back and find, because she needs me. One day, when you're grown, a very lucky lady will give you her heart, you'll understand and you'll do anything it takes to keep it."
He is looking at me as if I'm his hero. "I wouldn't remember who I was if it hadn't of been for you. When I had no hope, you kept striving for more. You were persistent and that's a rare quality to find; never lose it. I'll be gone for a while, but you'll always be one of my brothers and I love you very much. I want you to have this."
I open his small hand and lay it in his palm before closing it into a fist. "Will you take care of this for me?" He looks down at his fist and when he looks back at me, he begins smiling from ear to ear.
He nods and the excitement shows in his movements. "I won't let you down, Bryce, I mean Breyson. You can count on me."
"Good. I knew I could." I pull his small body to mine and give him a hug before I stand. I grab my duffle bag in my hand and turn to open the front door. I can see headlights coming down the road, signaling it's time to go.
I look back one more time at the people that have been my family for over six months. I don't know where I would be right now if it hadn't of been for them. I would probably be on the streets doing only God knows what to get by. They took a chance on me without knowing anything about me and for that I'll be eternally grateful. "I'll see you soon."
I walk out the door taking that promise with me; a promise that I will return with the girl of my dreams in my arms. I also made a promise that I would never leave her. It's time to prove that I keep my promises no matter what. I was taught from the time I was old enough to understand that a man's word is all he has. I've spent my life trying to live up to the values that my family instilled in me. Come hell or high water I will be the man she needs. Death can come knocking at my door, but until it defeats me I will fight tooth and nail for my family, starting with Kinzleigh.
***
We pull up to a private airstrip about twenty miles out. It's night out and all of the lights on the plane and runway are lit up. When I step out of the back of the car the flashbacks of that night consume my mind, sending a cold chill all the way to my bones.
My breathing picks up as each scene plays through my mind. I feel like I can't breathe from the anxiety of the plane crash and the events that led to it. How am I supposed to get on this plane? My chest constricts from the panic that is setting in. I bend forward to try and calm down. Mr. P comes out of nowhere and holds out his hand. "Here, take this."
A small pill lays flat on his palm. Without thought, I take it and toss it in my mouth. "What is it?"
"Something that will calm you down. Posttraumatic stress can be a bitch. It'll get better with time. You ready to do this?" That statement brings me back to the present. I have no choice but to get on that plane.
"Tell me what I have to do." I hope and pray to God that I don't have to do anything illegal. With a guy like him I have no idea what to expect. He tilts his head in the direction of the private plane and begins walking toward the stairway.
I follow until we get aboard. The plan is top of the line and clearly expensive. I wonder how on earth he has so much money. I'm not going to ask though. I don't think I want to know the answer.
He takes a seat in one of the leather chairs and points at the opposite for me to sit. I do as instructed. He performs a waving motion over his ahead. The flight attendant brings a thick envelope and he takes it. He lays it on the wooden, round table between us and slides it closer to me. "I need you to deliver this to my wife."
That sentence stunned me. His wife? He's married? I think back on that day that I saw him in his office and the tan line of a wedding band was present on his ring finger. "Where is she?"
"New York." That state holds so much more meaning than the two words it takes to say. I guess it was Fate that is taking me there, because I have other promises that I have to keep. The night of the plane crash, Cheyenne only asked for one thing in exchange for her life to be sacrifice
d should I come out alive. That one thing was to deliver something to her mother and daughter. When I get to New York I will have to hope and pray that I can find that video. A part of me wants to watch it and a part of me doesn't.
"She lives there," I ask. I have no idea what his reaction will be. He seems like a very private man.
He studies me for a moment. "I'm going to add you to a circle of trust that I never open to anyone. Ask me why I'm doing it now and I couldn't tell you. My job requires me to never form any type of personal attachments to anyone. It's a job that requires lives to be taken and I'm the one that takes them." My eyes widen in sheer terror at that sentence.
He's a fucking hit man? My stomach feels like a massive ball of knots. How did I get involved with someone that commits murder for a living? "Before you start to freak out, let me clarify. People come to me when they need someone taken care of, but I only terminate bad people. A scenario would be this: your daughter gets raped and left to die. You want the perpetrator to get what he deserves, right?
As oddly as it sounds I nod yes. "Bad people in the world deserve to die. You can call it a form of Natural selection if you want. I never take the life of someone that doesn't deserve it. I make a lot of money doing what I do, but what got me here was when someone wronged my family. That scenario I previously stated was my daughter twenty years ago. That bastard raped her when she was walking home from a friends one night and left her lying in the street to bleed to her death from the slit he cut on her throat to keep her from screaming."
He gets a hard look in his eyes as he tells me this. Why in the hell is he telling me this? "She was thirteen fucking years old. She may have been conceived when I was in college and had nothing, but she was my baby. I was only thirty-three at the time, but I was old enough to plot his murder once I found him. I got the honor of looking in his eyes as I told him who I was and watched him die."
I cannot believe I'm having this conversation with someone. The people and things you hear about in this world that make it ugly and scary are really out there hiding in the shadows. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because, you are the only person that has ties between Spain and the United States. I may need you on occasion. I'll never ask you to do anything illegal, but until I can bring my wife here, I need a way to get things or information to her. Back then, I was emotionally tied to the job and got sloppy. I'm much smarter now. When the sorry bastard was reported missing, I was a person of interest. As a result, they searched my home and the token I took to remind me he got what he deserved, appeared, and I had to flee."
He becomes quiet when part of the staff passes down the aisle. When they are out of earshot he continues. "Word of mouth brings me clients, but I can't come back to the states, and until the government officials stop watching over my wife, I can't bring her here. I will never contact you unless I need you for a job and should you agree I'll compensate you well, and provide you and your family protection should you need it."
My head feels like it's spinning from this entire conversation. I don't know whether to laugh or cry at the irony of the things that I encounter in one lifetime. I feel like I'm mentally insane for even considering his offer. The fact of the matter is that I can't say I wouldn't do the same if something that horrific happened to my child or Kinzleigh. We are all human and we are born with an instinct to protect what's ours. When a man fails to protect his family, he has nothing else. That is the ultimate and most absolute form of failure.
I have to think about my family. I haven't met my child yet, but I already know I would walk to the ends of the earth for it. "Nothing illegal, right? I would just be a delivery boy of sort on occasions?"
"Yes."
"Okay." You may be judging me right now, but if you thought about it hard enough you'd probably be surprised at the things you'd agree to, ensuring your loved ones are protected. As moral and decent people we must band together sometimes to keep the values alive. Do I agree with what he does? No. Do I feel like he's playing God when he shouldn't be? Yes. Do I understand why he considers what he does plausible? Absolutely. We all would kill for the people that matter to us the most as well as die for them. I guess he considers what he does as a way to help the people of the world that can't do it themselves. I can't say if only taking the lives of guilty people pardons him from the pits of hell, because it's not my place to judge. Something like that is between him and God alone.
He stands from his chair and lays a note pad sized piece of paper face down on top of the envelope. "The address is listed. All you have to do is show up at the door and state the line I have written for you to say. When she lets you in, give her the package and exit through the back of the house. A car and an envelope will be waiting for your use. Call me when it's done."
He begins to walk down the aisle in the direction of the exit before he stops. "Oh and Breyson, I trust that this information will never leave your lips. You are bound to silence for as long as you shall live; breaking that agreement is costly, a life for a life. Please don't make me make that call."
He exits the plane, leaving me alone with that open-ended thought. Never in my life would I have imagined myself in the place that I am. What happened to living a normal life? I turn the piece of paper over and read the line I was given. Phillip sent me to state his claim; the delivery he sent will be the exchange.
Phillip? Is that what Mr. P stands for? Instructions come from the flight attendant that we are about to take off. I fasten my seatbelt and lay my head back against the headrest. Only two stops and a plane ride until I see my beautiful girl again. I wonder what she will look like when I see her again in person.
I place my hand over the ache in my chest. Without her I feel like a piece of me is missing. If I ever get her back in my arms I don't think I'll physically be able to leave her again. Knowing I wasn't there with her while she experienced the pregnancy as she carried my child nearly kills me. I want to experience everything with her, but I guess what matters the most is that I'm on my way back. I remember telling her one night that I would give her the world if I could. I may not be able to give her the world, but I’ll do everything in my power to keep her happy and to make her dreams come true.
***
I place my foot on the pavement. I can hear the busy streets of New York that surround me. I guess I got to my destination six months too late. This is so much different than country life back home. Kinzleigh would probably like it here. Maybe I'll bring her back someday. I can't wait to experience the rest of my life with her by my side.
I look up at the building before me. According to the driver this is the address listed on the piece of paper. It's a huge sky rise that extends for miles. I walk forward in its direction. When I reach the door a member of staff opens it allowing me to enter. I walk inside to a massive lobby made of creams and gold.
I ask for the location of the elevator and he points me in the direction I need to go. Once I arrive, I press the up button and wait for the door to open. I step inside and punch in the code on the elevator to take me to the top floor. I don't even want to know how much living in a place like this cost. The door shuts as I enter the last digit and it begins to ascend.
After what feels like forever, the elevator chimes signaling the arrival on the appropriate floor. I exit into a short hallway that leads to a large hardwood door. I have no idea what is going to be on the other side. Nerves are beginning to get the better of me. I take a deep breath and bring my fist to eye level, but not touching the door.
Don't be a pussy, just do it.
I bring my fist down to connect with wood and repeat it twice, but no more. I stand and wait. The sound of heels hitting against the floor get louder with each step. The door opens and the woman looks younger than him, but not by much. She has aged gracefully and looks polished. She fits the image of what I would expect from someone that lives in a place like this, located in the heart of Manhattan.
"Can I help you?" She looks around and back at me puzzl
ed. It's when I realize that a code is required to even get to this floor. I recite the line from the paper exactly as it was written.
Her face changes completely into surprise. She backs up, opening the door further, allowing me to enter. "Come in." I stop in the foyer and unzip my duffle bag, removing the envelope. I hand it to her and she looks at it, silently studying it. She looks back at me and her eyes are glossed over. "How is he?"
Confused, I answer the best way I know how. "He seemed okay...."
"It's been a year since my last package. You seemed a little confused, in case you were wondering." She turns and begins to walk away. I'm not sure what to do. Do I follow or just stand here? I choose the latter. A few feet ahead she stops and looks back. "Come on. You look like you need a good meal and I could use the company. Leave your bag at the door."
She continues walking and this time I follow her. I come through the door that opens into a large kitchen. It doesn't take long for me to catch up to her, wearing six-inch heels and a pencil skirt that doesn't leave much room for walking. I sit at one of the stools behind the bar while she pulls ingredients from the refrigerator.
I watch as she places a pan on the cooktop and begins combining ingredients into a bowl. She's making an omelet. "It's a meeting place," she says as she whisks the eggs in the bowl.
"Excuse me?"
"The package. It's instructions for a place to meet. I never know when they're coming or where the meeting place will be. The length of stay is always different. I live for those packages." I can tell from the break in her voice that she's about to cry. I'll have to admit that this is a little awkward, given the fact that I just met her five minutes ago. Obviously, she has things that she keeps buried deep; things she needs to extract from the body like toxins.
I'm not sure what to say, so I say the first thing that comes to mind. "I don't know much of either of you, but I know that he wants you with him. That much he made very clear in our conversation before I came here. As an eighteen year old, I may not have a long history of wisdom, but I know that if you love someone you stick with them no matter what, because in the end late is better than never."
Twisting Fate Page 33