Above all Else

by Sophia R Heart

  Despite its shortcomings, bounty hunting paid well. Dad had built up quite the reputation over the past few years. He had a knack for catching the bad guys, and the more fugitives he caught, the more he got paid. Dad always assured me that I had nothing to worry about – that men who were truly dangerous would never have made bail in the first place. But I had a strong imagination, and despite his constant reassurance, I always worried.

  “Oh,” I said, exhaling a little shakily. I wanted to ask a million questions. I wanted to run upstairs and demand to know what had happened. But there was no point. Dad and Kellan were notoriously tight-lipped about their work. Assuming that Dad wasn’t in imminent danger as Kellan had left him alone, I asked, “Have you guys eaten? Are you hungry?”

  It was kind of satisfying to see Kellan momentarily flummoxed. He blinked, and then seemed relieved that I wasn’t going to push the matter further. “Sure. I never pass up food.”

  He took off his jacket and placed it on the back of a chair before he took a seat at the kitchen table. He settled in, crossing one of his legs so that his ankle was resting on the opposite knee.

  “Just make yourself at home,” I said sarcastically, beginning to pull ingredients out of the refrigerator.

  At least he hadn’t put his foot up on a chair. The black boots he always wore left scuff marks wherever they went. Kellan had a preference for black. Black boots. Black jeans. And his signature black leather jacket. The only color I’d ever seen him wear was on his t-shirts, though today he wore a black one, too.

  “What’s on the menu, ballerina?”

  “Pancakes,” I told him with a scowl. The old nickname, which had once been so endearing to me, now just annoyed the hell out of me.

  “Sounds great,” he said, picking up a newspaper that had been discarded on the kitchen table.

  Before long the batter was made, and the first pancake was sizzling on the pan. I’d pretty much been living on takeout this past week. Now that everything was finally in its place, I intended to start cooking more. I usually made it a point to have something home-cooked for him whenever he was home. Unfortunately for him, he’d been eating more takeout than ever since I’d been so busy with the move.

  “You know, you could clean up a little while I’m making these?” I said, gesturing to the flour, eggs, and other supplies littering the kitchen counter top. He was still on the same damn page of the newspaper. There was nothing in there that would take him that long to read. I was sure that he was purposely trying to make himself look busy.

  “No thanks,” he said, finally turning a page in the newspaper.

  “‘No thanks?’” I repeated, gaping at him for a moment. “I’m making these for you!”

  “You offered to make them, ballerina,” he said, shrugging casually. “Besides, I’m sure you’ll be eating them too.”

  “It’s common courtesy to pitch in, you lazy ass,” I said, flipping a pancake over as I glowered at him. I was suddenly remembering what a nightmare he used to be to live with.

  Mom and Dad had thought that Kellan could do no wrong. And he had been polite and helpful, his attitude almost reverent towards them. He’d put them both on a pedestal, whereas me? I think he’d gotten a kick out of annoying the hell out of me. My crush had made a brief return after he’d first moved in with us, but it had been quickly squelched after a month of living with him.

  “C’mon, ballerina, I’ve been up since the butt crack of dawn,” he said, looking worn out. Putting the newspaper down, he crossed his arms against his chest. I felt a flash of sympathy go through me, but then he raised an eyebrow, and said, “Besides, what have you been doing all day?” His eyes were sardonic as he eyed my pajamas.

  Okay, maybe I had just gotten out of bed. But he didn’t know that for sure. For all he knew, I could have been up at the butt crack of dawn, too.

  I opened my mouth to deliver a cutting retort, but the smell of burning batter distracted me. “Shit!”

  I’d left the last pancake on the pan for too long. It was completely burned on one side. I scraped it into the trash, glaring at Kellan.

  Dad walked into the kitchen then, whistling cheerfully. I turned resolutely back to the pancakes while Kellan nonchalantly picked up his newspaper.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  “It’s good to see you, sweetheart,” Dad said, coming over to me.

  I turned to give him a quick hug, and noticed that he kept his distance as he gave me a one armed squeeze – a world away from his usual big, bear hugs. He was six foot two and I barely came up to his shoulder. I usually felt completely engulfed by his hugs.

  He looked paler than usual too, despite his forced cheer. I knew – just knew – that he was hurt somewhere around his midsection. I opened my mouth, and perhaps realizing I was about to question him, he tried to distract me. “We’ve only been back about fifteen minutes, and you two are already bickering?” He shook his head in exasperation.

  I glowered at Kellan, and poured some more batter onto the pan. “He started it.”

  It was a juvenile response, and I could see Kellan’s lips quirk even as his eyes stayed on the newspaper. I think a part of him enjoyed sparring with me. While I could get all worked-up, he often remained amused.

  My mood lightened considerably as we all dug into the pancakes. It was nice having Dad there, with no rush for either of us to hurry off to work. I didn’t even mind Kellan being there, I was feeling so magnanimous.

  After our impromptu brunch, I gathered the dishes and waved Dad, and even Kellan, off when they got up to help. Now that I’d eaten, I was feeling a bit bad about almost biting Kellan’s head off earlier.

  After I finished the dishes, I grabbed some aspirin and a glass of water before heading to Dad’s study.

  It was the only room in the house that Dad hadn’t allowed me to sort out. There were still boxes littered around the place, and a few half-empty filing cabinets in various places across the room. Dad’s safe, which was concealed behind a painting on the wall, was wide open, his guns visible within it. I shivered. I’d always been uneasy around guns.

  Kellan and Dad were in the middle of a conversation when I walked in. They both shut up as soon as they saw me, and Dad casually placed an envelope into his desk drawer and shut it.

  That wasn’t at all conspicuous.

  I rolled my eyes, coming to a stop at Dad’s desk. I handed him the glass and the painkillers, and he smiled guiltily, his piercing green eyes turning sheepish. His eyes were an exact mirror of my own, and were possibly the only thing we shared in appearance. Everything else was all Mom. My height. My hair. Even my face. Sometimes, I wondered if it ever hurt him to look at me. But he’d never once given me that impression.

  “Can’t hide anything from you. Can I, sweetheart?” he said, taking the aspirin.

  “What happened?” I asked him, feeling my brows furrow.

  “It was nothing. My own fault. I’m not as young as I used to be. I need to start remembering that.” He shook his head, his answer not really an answer at all.

  “Where are you hurt? Maybe you should go to–“

  “I’m fine, April. Really.” Dad stood and gave me a quick kiss on the forehead. “Kellan and I just need to go through this list of phone records before the morning.” He nodded towards the sheets on his desk.

  I understood I was being dismissed. “Well, I’m going to go get dressed then,” I said, unable to hide the fact that I was a bit miffed.

  I walked out of the office, and when I glanced back, it was to see that they’d resumed their conversation as though they’d never been interrupted. Even though Dad was home, he was still holed up in his study working with Kellan.

  CHAPTER THREE

  * * *

  - THEN -

  Five years ago

  DAD WORKED WITH Uncle Luke for almost eight months when he first began bounty hunting to learn the ropes. Uncle Luke had been friends with Dad since their army days, and had bee
n in my life ever since I could remember. Though he wasn’t technically my uncle, I’d never referred to him as anything else.

  The first time Dad had ever taken a case without Uncle Luke, Mom and I had both been bundles of nerves. He often came home with bruises – and that was while working with a partner. We worried that he’d be in even more danger working alone. Dad’s jokes that his job wasn’t nearly as exciting or dangerous as the movies didn’t do much to reassure either of us.

  “He’ll be fine, sweetheart,” Mom said, ruffling my hair as she walked past me into the kitchen. She was better than me at hiding her feelings. “He’s a tough one, your dad. There’s no need to worry.”

  I tried to believe her. It was hard when she looked so terrible. But that could have been due to the chemotherapy.

  For a while after the surgery, she’d been great. The operation had removed all of the cancerous cells in her breast and she hadn’t even had to undergo any chemotherapy. A few weeks ago, Mom had returned from a check-up appointment looking shaken. Her latest tests had found cancerous cells – this time in her ovaries. It seemed like it had been one thing after another these past few years. She’d been diagnosed with ovarian cancer at first and beat it. Then a few years later, they’d found malignant cells in her breast that needed to be removed. And now the ovarian cancer had made a return.

  She’d started chemotherapy up again last week, and for a few days she’d been fine. The side-effects were beginning to take a toll now.

  I was terrified. So was Dad.

  He’d been home a lot the past few weeks, and we’d all been spending a lot of time together. It was great, but scary too, as I was all too aware of the reason why Dad felt it was necessary to spend as much time as possible with Mom.

  He’d given me a long hug before he left. “I’m coming back,” he’d said, exasperated, as Mom and I hovered near the door.

  He was beyond grateful for everything Uncle Luke had done for him, but he was ready to work alone. Once a fugitive was returned, the bondsman – who would have loaned the fugitive money for the bail – would share a percentage of the bail money with the bounty hunter. It was more dangerous to work alone, but Dad would be able to claim a higher percentage of the bail instead of splitting it down the middle with Uncle Luke. More money per case meant Dad taking on fewer cases and being home more.

  His safety was still a concern.

  Axel also came over that morning to keep me company. We’d sprawled on the couch, eating a bowl of microwave popcorn as we watched a movie.

  Axel scribbled something on the notebook he always carried with him before he shoved it under my nose.

  Your Dad’s a badass. If he didn’t smile as much as he did, I’d be scared of him. There’s no reason for you to worry, you know. He has done this before.

  “I know,” I muttered. His eyebrows drew in a little as he stared at my mouth. ‘I know,’ I signed clumsily.

  It used to feel weird, having Axel constantly look at my mouth, but I had long grown comfortable with it. My ASL wasn’t the best, so he often had to read my lips to communicate with me. It was slow going, learning a whole new language, but I was learning more and more every day. I wanted to talk to Axel in his language.

  Although Axel was very skilled at lip reading, he’d told me that it was hard to decipher a full sentence. The words and people’s mouths just tended to blur together. It had taken him years of practice to get it right.

  He hadn’t always been deaf.

  He’d gotten meningitis when he was nine-years-old. One of the most common after-effects of bacterial meningitis was hearing loss. In Axel’s case, it had resulted in profound deafness.

  He could speak fine, though he rarely did it around me, and never around others. He worried a lot about how he sounded.

  ‘Where’s Kellan?’ Axel signed, words I was familiar with.

  ‘I don’t know.’ My signing was awkward and slow. “He got a job. He wants to pay Mom and Dad rent, even though they refused,” I told him aloud, also signing the few words I did know as I spoke.

  I was completely bemused by Kellan. I didn’t get him at all. Mom and Dad were fine with him staying here for free, yet he was determined to work for minimum wage in order to pay them. He could have spent his money on a million other things, or put it towards getting a place of his own. It boggled my fifteen-year-old brain.

  He was working at a garage in town, and getting paid really crappy by the hour. Apparently, he had some kind of criminal record, so his options were limited. I’d heard Dad talking about getting his record expunged so his future would be wide open for him. Kellan had agreed, but was determined to pay for a lawyer himself.

  All he did these days was eat, sleep, and work.

  I’d suggested applying to college one morning when he was moaning about going to work, but he’d just snorted at the idea with a, ‘yeah right,’ and slapped a nicotine patch on his arm. He’d been trying to quit smoking ever since he first came to live with us.

  I didn’t understand him. He moaned about his job, but he still carried on working there every day. He bitched like crazy about his nicotine withdrawals, but still continued to go without his precious cigarettes.

  “Pride,” Axel said, with a knowing look in his eye.

  “Huh?” I turned to him, surprised he’d spoken out aloud. He just shook his head, turning back to the movie.

  The Dad had ended up coming home early the following evening, supporting a nasty shiner and a check for three thousand dollars. It had been a very welcome sight – him safe and sound. I’d even caught Kellan lurking around the corner – the only sign that he too had been concerned.

  - NOW -

  The next few weeks flew by. When I wasn’t at work, I was building furniture or painting. Dad wasn’t around much. He was working all the time lately, determined to get me to college next year. He refused to listen to my countless reassurances that I didn’t mind waiting if it meant he wasn’t working himself into the ground.

  On the other hand, Axel had been around a lot more than usual. He hadn’t been himself the last few times I’d seen him. I was sure something was going on with his mom, but didn’t want to pry. They’d never had the best relationship, which was why I found the weekly two-hour round-trips he was making concerning. He came down every weekend now, when previously he'd come down maybe one or two weekends in the month.

  I was determined that he have a good time tonight. It was his birthday, and he was home for the weekend. We had plans to go out and hit some clubs.

  So after taking a shower, I got myself ready. I had to rifle through my closet to find the perfect little number. A black, low-cut dress that stopped several inches above my knee, and left my back completely bare. Paired with a pair of black stilettos, my legs looked miles long.

  I did my make-up in record time, deciding on a red lip for the occasion, and left my hair in its natural waves.

  By the time I was done, it was almost time for Axel’s arrival. I grabbed his gift bag and made my way downstairs. My handbag was on the couch, and I rifled through it to find my fake ID and some cash which I stuffed into my bra.

  Hearing the doorbell ring, I opened the front door with a big smile on my face. He had impeccable timing.

  ‘Hey, birthday boy,’ I signed, and leaned forward to give him a big hug. I imagined him rolling his eyes. I always made a bigger deal out of his birthday than he did. Still, his smile was huge when I pulled back. ‘How does it feel to be twenty? You’re no longer a teenager.’

  ‘I feel exactly the same as I did yesterday,’ he signed, still smiling. I huffed, and grabbed his hand, pulling him indoors. I gave him the gift bag, and watched as he shuffled his feet. He hated getting gifts, but I really couldn’t help myself. ‘I told you not to–’

  ‘And I didn’t listen,’ I signed, pushing the gift bag into his chest when he still didn’t reach for it. ‘Don’t be a party pooper. Just open it and thank me. It really isn’t much.
’

  He opened the bag and pulled out the first gift, his eyes lighting up as he looked at the framed photograph. It was from Christmas last year and was one of my favorite pictures of us. We were both wearing matching Christmas jumpers and grinning stupidly at the camera.

  “This is going on my bedside table,” he said roughly, unable to sign with his hands full.

  “Your bedside table, huh?” I shook my head, as he waggled his eyebrows. He pulled out his favorite cologne next, and a watch I’d gotten him after he’d mentioned that his old one had stopped working.

  Placing everything back into the back, he put his fingertips on his chin before placing his hand flat out so that it was pointed towards me like he was blowing me a kiss – the sign for thank you.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ I signed. Hearing a car pull up the driveway, I glanced out the window and saw that the cab was here. ‘Cab’s here. Come on.’

  * * *

  Once inside the club, we headed straight to the bar and placed an order for a few shots. Purple Moon was our club of choice – they’d always let us in without a fuss, despite our fake IDs not being all that great.

  I elbowed Axel aside when he tried to pay for our drinks. Taking some cash out of my bra, I handed it over to the bartender.

  ‘It's your birthday. You’re not paying,’ I signed. Besides, I knew Axel didn’t have a lot of spare cash right now. His scholarship barely covered his tuition. He worked three shifts a week as a warehouse operative, sorting through parcels. All his money went on rent, food, and bills.

  ‘I’m getting the next round,’ he signed stubbornly.