Remember My Name

by Dara Girard

  “You don’t have to go.” Catherine said, grabbing her handbag and keys. “I will.” She pointed at Jason. “And when I see you again. I’ll get you to talk about your contact.” She wiggled her fingers in a threatening gesture.

  He winked. “You can put your hands on me any time.”

  Catherine walked past Tytus, wondering why Jason’s teasing made her feel embarrassed or why Tytus’s gaze made her heart hammer in her ears.

  Jason said something to his brother, then followed her to the elevators. “You really don’t have to go. I know my brother makes you nervous, but he’s really not a bad guy once you get to know him.”

  “It’s not him.”

  “Yes, it is, but didn’t I tell you I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you?”

  Catherine stopped walking. She spun around and wrapped her arms around his waist. “You’re so good to me.”

  Jason stiffened, surprised, then wrapped his arms around her. “I told you I’m good at being patient.”

  Tears filled her eyes because she knew he was. She knew he understood that time was an illusion—that going fast or slow was all a matter of choice. They both knew the sweet taste of freedom and didn’t need to gobble it whole. Every bite was a gift. But something about what he ignited in her—joy, fun, play, dare she call it happiness?—frightened her. She wanted to keep him safe. She knew how cruel life could be.

  He wiped a tear away. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

  “I’m happy,” she said, releasing him. “I didn’t think I’d get to be happy again.”

  “Come over tomorrow evening. I’ll cook you dinner.”

  “I’ll be there.” She stepped into the elevator. “And you’ll tell me about your contact. I don’t want any secrets between us,” she said, although she knew she had many.

  “I will.”

  The doors closed as he blew her a kiss.

  45

  “That took you long enough,” Tytus said when Jason returned to the apartment. “Did you walk her to her car?”

  “Hands off,” Jason said, closing the door.

  “What?”

  He walked over to the couch and picked up the pizza box on the coffee table. “It’s my first and last warning.”

  “I didn’t realize I needed a warning.”

  “Now you do,” he said, taking the pizza box into the kitchen. “She’s mine.”

  Tytus leaned against the counter. “I know that, does she?”

  “Yes.” He opened the refrigerator and placed the pizza box inside.

  “How long have you known her? Are you sure she’s all that she seems?”

  “I don’t care.” He pulled out a can of beer and held it out.

  Tytus shook his head, declining the offer. “You’re serious.”

  He opened the can then took a long swallow. “I plan to marry her, is that serious enough for you?”

  Tytus glanced around. “Where’s your new roommate?”

  “I paid him to stay away for awhile.”

  “Has he met her yet?”

  “No, but he will.”

  “Taking your time because you’re afraid he might scare her off?”

  “No, besides if she’s afraid of anything, I’ve made it quite clear that she should run to me.”

  “She seems like a hard woman to win over.”

  Jason grinned and returned to the couch. “Fortunately, I know her soft spots,” he said, taking a seat.

  Tytus stood in front of him. “You sound confident.”

  “Because I am. She just needs time and tenderness.”

  “And you plan to be the man who gives it to her.”

  “I don’t plan to, I am.” He took another swallow of his beer then set it down. “So look elsewhere.”

  “Of course.” Tytus rubbed the back of his neck and sat down beside him. “I don’t know why you think—”

  “I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

  “It’s just curiosity.”

  “It’s more than curiosity.”

  Damn, he was caught. “You’re right. It’s just she reminds me of someone.”

  “Someone you slept with?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Just someone.”

  “Fine, but don’t make her pay for it.”

  Tytus frowned. “Pay?”

  “You go out of your way to make her nervous. She’s been hurt and I won’t see her hurt again by anyone—especially you. I love her.”

  I loved her first. If it is her and I think it is, even though I don’t have proof. I wanted her before you even knew she existed. Not that it mattered. She belonged to his brother now. He didn’t know how he would stand having her in his life and not be able to… He inwardly groaned. He’d fought hard to forget her and now he didn’t have that option. But for his brother’s sake he would let it go. He’d pushed down what he felt. “Fine,” Tytus said, holding up his hands in an act of surrender. He didn’t know if he’d be able to stop thinking about her, stop wondering about her. In his dreams he saw her eyes, the shape of her neck, felt the feel of her fingers, smelled her faint unique scent.

  This wasn’t good. He had to get away, travel to get over this feeling. A feeling he’d never had for anyone before or since. He didn’t know why she affected him so strongly, but clearly she had his brother under the same spell.

  “How’s Joscelyn?”

  He blinked. “Who?”

  Jason laughed. “The woman who wants you more than a desert wants water.”

  “She’s fine.”

  “You don’t sound very interested.”

  “I have a lot on my mind right now.”

  “Still not ready to settle down?”

  Tytus forced a grin. “You’ll do it for me and get Mom off my back. She thinks I work too much.”

  “You do, but you managed to save the company. You can take a break now.” He patted him on the back. “Don’t worry, big brother, the right woman is out there for you.”

  Tytus watched his brother go into the kitchen and let his smile fall. I know and you’re determined to marry her.

  Tytus considered getting drunk when he left his brother’s place, but decided to go to work instead. He had to get over Evelyn. His brother’s happiness meant everything to him.

  He worked through the night into the next morning, not caring that it was the weekend. When he finally made it home, he crashed on the couch and went to sleep. He woke up to his cell phone ringing. Groggily, he reached out and answered it. “Hello?”

  “Were you sleeping?” Joscelyn asked.

  He rubbed his eyes, the light from the setting sun bathing the room in a reddish haze. He hadn’t expected to sleep as long as he had. He glanced at the clock and saw it was late afternoon. “Yeah.”

  “Alone?”

  He couldn’t help a smile. “Do you want to change that?”

  “I have a new bottle of wine and no one to share it with.”

  A beautiful woman who wanted to be with him. It was an enviable position to be in. A night with Joscelyn would be a lot better than getting drunk and trying not to think about Evelyn. He sat up.

  “I’ll be right there.”

  46

  She’d never done something like this, Marie thought, looking over the investment opportunity sitting in front of her. She adjusted her glasses, absently tapping her forefinger on the worn desk in her office. It was an opportunity of a lifetime. A way to save her organization, which was in desperate need of funding—the girls they helped depended on it. Ericka Dantes had been a godsend to her. She was one of the few people who really cared about the plight of the girls they served. Most people just talked, but over the past two years Ericka had volunteered at fundraising drives, donated clothes for the girls and, most of all, donated money. At times Ericka reminded her of someone, but Marie couldn’t remember who.

  “And you think this is good for us?” Marie asked her.

  “Yes,” Ericka said, smiling at Marie in a way that made her feel reassured. “The
organization is sustainable the way it’s presently structured. However, if you buy this property, you not only will be able to use it but it can be leased and bring in a sizeable revenue for you.

  She was right. They did need a new building.

  “As I said,” Ericka continued. “I’ll put up half the money and you the other half. Do we have a deal?”

  At least she was risking money too, that meant they were in this together. It would be tight and she’d have to scramble to get all the funds she needed, but worth it. Marie held out her hand to the woman she’d come to see as a friend. She smiled. “We have a deal.”

  Man, she needed something so bad she couldn’t keep still. Yvette Walker surveyed the entrance of the university student hub, hoping her target would come out soon. She wanted to do what she had to, then get a fix.

  She shifted and scratched her arms, wishing it didn’t feel like ants were crawling over her. Damn, she hated being like this. She knew Ms. Payton would be pissed, but she’d just needed something to get the memories to stop. The memories of the men and what they did to her. Yvette chewed on her nails. Maybe he wouldn’t show up and she’d have to tell them she’d try tomorrow, hopefully he’d still give her what she needed. He’d been so sweet the other times, telling her she didn’t owe him anything.

  Yvette started to turn, then saw the guy she was supposed to target. Not her type at all, but tall and good looking with reddish brown skin and short cropped black hair. She looked down at the picture on her phone. Yep, that was him. She hurried over and bumped into him dropping her bag in a way so that its contents would spill out.

  “Oh, sorry,” she said.

  “That’s okay,” he said, helping her pick up her books and wallet and a lipstick that had rolled away near a bush.

  She waited until his back was turned before she slipped a packet into his backpack. “Thanks,” she said when he turned and handed her the items he’d gathered.

  He just nodded and walked away.

  Yvette sighed in relief then called her dealer. “It’s done.”

  47

  She hoped he could cook, Catherine thought with amusement as she rode the elevator to Jason’s apartment for the dinner he’d promised her. If he couldn’t cook, she’d just pretend to enjoy the meal.

  A whisper of warning coursed through her when she approached his door and saw it was partially opened. “Jason?” Catherine said slowly pushing the door open further. She saw the place clouded in dark and cloaked in quiet. She didn’t smell anything cooking on the stove. “Jason?” she called again.

  When she walked further into the apartment, she turned on a lamp and saw the place in disarray—pillows thrown to the ground, a lamp broken on the floor. She pulled out her cell phone and called the police. “It may not be anything,” she said when the dispatcher picked up. “But my boyfriend’s place has been burglarized and I can’t find him,” she continued, searching around the place. She stopped when she saw a foot by the couch. She raced forward and saw Jason laying on the ground, blood seeping from his chest.

  A startled cry ripped from her throat as she rushed over to him. “No, no, no,” she said, falling on her knees beside him.

  “Ma’am? What’s wrong, ma’am?”

  “I found him! I need an ambulance.”

  “What happened?”

  “He’s been shot. Please hurry!”

  “Stay on the line with me.”

  But she couldn’t. She had to stop the bleeding. She set the phone aside and got a throw cover from his couch and pressed it against the wound. “Stay with me,” she pleaded, wishing he’d open his eyes. “The police are coming.”

  “Warn…Tytus.”

  He was still alive! “I will,” Catherine said not knowing what he meant and not caring. All that mattered was that he held on until the EMTs arrived. “Don’t worry and don’t speak, you must conserve your strength.”

  “They warned me,” he said, his eyes remaining closed as if he didn’t have the strength to open them. “They warned me to leave things alone.”

  “You can’t leave me. Hold on, please. Please.”

  “I didn’t listen. Now Tytus…”

  “Tytus can take care of himself.”

  “She’s…dangerous. Tell him.”

  “I will. Just hold on. The ambulance is coming. Dear God, this is all my fault. I shouldn’t have told you to—”

  His eyes fluttered open. “You are the best thing to ever happen to me. I don’t regret a thing. Not one moment.”

  “And we’ll have more time together. We’ll do whatever you want to do when you come out of the hospital.”

  “Marry me?”

  “Yes, yes. I will marry you. Just stay with me a little longer.”

  “We’ll be free together.”

  “Yes.”

  “Hold me just a little. I feel so cold.”

  She gathered him close, pressing her body to his. “Please stay with me.”

  “I love you, Evelyn. In your arms I’m always free,” he said, then sighed his last breath. His body going limp. She held him tighter, tears burning her eyes. “No, no, don’t go.” Her gaze settled on the dining table where he’d set the place with a vase of red roses, candles and china for the dinner they’d planned to share. It was cruelly pristine and untouched in the chaos. A stark symbol of what would never be.

  48

  Ralph rarely hated his job. For the seven years he’d worked for Tytus Carter, he’d only had two times when he’d wished he were doing something else. Today would make a third. He took a deep breath and entered the office. “Carter?”

  “Yes?” Tytus said his back to him as he stared out the window at the street outside his office. He knew his boss needed time alone—Ralph sensed something was bothering him, but didn’t know exactly what. Now it didn’t matter.

  He cleared his throat. “It’s about your brother.”

  Tytus spun around—sharp, quick, which was rare for a man who made sure to move slowly and methodically. “What about him?”

  “He’s dead.”

  Tytus shook his head and took a step forward. “No, I didn’t hear you.”

  Ralph felt tears gather in his eyes and swallowed. “Yes, you did.”

  Tytus blinked quickly. “No, I didn’t because that’s impossible.”

  “I’m sorry. Your mother was too distraught to tell you herself.”

  He took a deep breath. “My brother is not…How is that possible? I just spoke to him yesterday. Yesterday he was fine.”

  “It appears there was a burglary that went wrong. The police are still looking into it.”

  Tytus didn’t move. He wasn’t even sure he breathed. He just stood there looking at nothing in particular.

  “And you’re sure…?” he finally said.

  “His girlfriend was with him until the end.”

  Tytus paused. “Evelyn was there? Did she see anything? Was she attacked too?”

  “We don’t have all the particulars, but she’s helping the police. It seems she was the one who found him. She comforted him through his last breath.”

  His last breath. Tytus couldn’t process the words. How could his little brother be dead? Not when he’d been so alive. Not when he’d made so many plans. He saw them riding their bikes together, covering up a dent when he’d scratched their dad’s car, when he’d won his soccer trophy, wearing his college gown. He even remembered visiting him in prison, when he’d kept his smile, although he knew every day behind bars was hell. He remembered hugging him when he’d finally gotten released. He’d just gotten his life back. It couldn’t be taken like this. Tytus swore. He’d spent the night with Joscelyn as a great diversion so he wouldn’t think about the future.

  He’d never imagined a future without his brother in it.

  Ralph took a step back and grabbed the door handle, afraid he could no longer keep his tears at bay. The devastation and misery on Tytus’s face was worse than the news he’d had to share and the sound of Jason’s mother’s
crying. “I’ll leave you,” he said fighting to keep his voice in check. “Let me know if you need anything.”

  “I do,” he said in a soft voice, his gaze fixed on the ground.

  “Yes?”

  Tytus raised his eyes, which glistened with unshed tears of rage. “I need answers. Now.”

  49

  He’d risk going back to prison.

  Duane watched Jason’s killer struggle against the restraints around his wrists and ankles. Only minutes ago, his captive had been leaving a convenience store. He hadn’t heard Duane approach and couldn’t fight the taser that left him immobile. And now he couldn’t do much except curse against the blindfold around his eyes, and squirm in the metal chair fastened to the ground.

  “What the hell do you want?”

  Duane didn’t speak. He just walked around the man as if he were strolling around a park, his sneakers hardly making a sound on the concrete, the chill of the abandoned warehouse dancing along his skin. But he didn’t feel cold, he was too angry to feel anything.

  He and the man weren’t strangers, which was why when Duane saw Hampton leaving Jason’s building that night, he knew he shouldn’t have been there. The middle-class apartment complex wasn’t his kind of place. He took his nickname from the place where the rich liked to vacation. He liked to say he made one’s life easy for a price. Hampton always brought bad news at the end of a gun.

  Duane hadn’t made the connection until he heard about Jason’s murder. He’d returned home from visiting his aunt to crime tape and neighbors talking. The police would look at the CCTV but Duane knew they wouldn’t find anything. Hampton was like a ghost. He never appeared on film and if he’d been paid to do a job no one would be able to connect it to him. The police had closed the case quickly—a burglary gone wrong—and he wouldn’t be able to convince them otherwise.

  Duane knew the courts wouldn’t be able to prove anything, so he’d have to deliver his own kind of justice.