Revival

by Rebecca Sherwin

  I’d sat in my office for the rest of the day, my original plans of trying to cover our tracks forgotten. I cancelled my afternoon meeting and sent Angelica home, and I locked the door, closed the blinds, unplugged the phone and tried to figure out what to do. Eight hours later, I still didn’t have a clue; I just knew I couldn’t let Charlie steal from Nina. I felt guilty before – I knew something was wrong the minute I stepped into that hotel room all those years ago and pulled on a suit that was made for another man. Charlie just got lucky when she found me and I was, coincidentally, the same size.

  “Charlie?” I asked, pulling out into busy Mayfair traffic.

  “Hmm?”

  “Who did you work with before me?”

  “No one.”

  I knew she was lying by the way her voice squeaked, a few notes higher than usual.

  “The truth.”

  “That is the truth. I don’t work with anyone. People work for me.”

  “Semantics. That’s bullshit and you know it.”

  She reached over and settled her hand on my lap. “We don’t need to talk about him, he’s not important. You finally coming around is important.”

  I knew I couldn’t push it. I had to play her at her own game, it just didn’t come to me as naturally as it did to her.

  “You’re right.” I gave her hand a gentle squeeze and returned my hand to the gearstick.

  The rest of the journey to the restaurant was silent. So was most of dinner. Charlie didn’t engage in small talk, she couldn’t see the point in wasting her breath. We were eating dessert when she finally spoke, and I knew she’d been waiting to pounce all night.

  “So, what’s your idea?” she asked.

  Of course we couldn’t spend any time together without her scheming, hatching a plan to rob someone.

  “I think we should leave Nina alone and find someone else.”

  “Why should we do that?” she narrowed her eyes at me.

  I chewed my top lip and thought of an answer. How did people come up with this shit at the drop of a hat? This was taking every ounce of brainpower I had.

  Shit! Lightbulb moment. Welcome back to the universe, Curtis.

  “I may have something worth a lot more than a lowly magazine editor.”

  “Oh, really?” she pushed her plate away and leaned forward to the table, resting her chin on closed fists. “And what might that something be?”

  “Something big,” I said, with as much conviction as I could because, at this point, I had no idea. “I need a while to come up with a plan.”

  “I like this Cut Throat.” She reached out and dragged her nails down my forearm, leaving faint red scratch marks on my clammy skin. “Where did he come from?”

  “It seems you’ve awoken a beast, baby.” My voice broke with abhorrence, but she interpreted it as arousal. Great. “Will you let me lead this one?”

  Her eyes raked over my face so I looked back, forcing the fire of anger to come across as the heat of greed.

  “I guess I could. But you take the fall if you fail.”

  “I won't fail.” I leaned over the table and captured her mouth with mine, feeling her lips swell from my sweet, hungry assault. I pulled back just a little, breathing heavily with hatred but eyeing her with fierce passion. “I'm Cut Throat fucking Curtis.”

  “Get the bill,” she breathed, with the purr of a triumphant alpha female.

  I paid for our bill, including the two bottles of merlot I had plied Charlie with to loosen her up, and I drove us back to her place. I gave her no choice over whether I was going in or not. I placed my hand possessively on the back of her neck, damn near dragged her through the building and up to her apartment. Once inside, I shoved her backwards, through the hallway and to her bedroom. Her guttural moans and filthy words of encouragement goaded me as my mouth aggressively found the soft flesh of her neck. She loosened my tie and it whooshed out from under my collar as I pushed her away. Holding my hand out, I took the tie from her and pulled the silk taut between my hands; she took another step back and slowly removed her clothes.

  I was hard as steel, desperate to drive into her and punish myself the only way I knew how.

  She was naked, panting wildly and I hadn’t touched her yet. The fire in her eyes captured me as she licked her lips and spoke, her words directly addressing the animal waiting to be unleashed.

  “Tie me up, Cut Throat. Tie me up and fuck me like you hate me.”

  I lunged at her, hoisting her up and throwing her carelessly to the bed.

  No problem.

  Thirty

  Everywhere I turned, there was another messed up person.

  Theft, manipulation, murder.

  Would it ever stop?

  April 14th, 2012

  Charlie was sleeping soundly when I woke up, and the moon slithered in through the thin curtains, casting a white sheet over her naked back and leaving the gentle contours of her body in shadow.

  Asleep, serene and dreaming, her mind free from scheming and whatever drove her to do it, she looked like an angel. I couldn’t help but feel something for her¸ even if I couldn’t identify one positive emotion that stirred when I looked at her, or thought about her. But I felt something and that something kept me around. I combed my fingers slowly through her feather-light hair, taking each golden strand between my fingers before I gathered it up and smoothed it down her back. My fingertips tickled a trail along the pale skin between the tips of her hair and where the duvet finished just below the curve of her back.

  It was nights like these when I could take a fraction of what I wanted, even if it wasn’t Charlie I wanted it with. Intimacy. To take care of someone. To comfort them and take comfort in return.

  Charlie was like a sour sweet; you didn’t like it, your mind and body rejected it, but the more you had, the more you wanted. I was getting too deep, even for thoughts no one would ever hear, so I climbed out of bed, careful not to wake her, and padded to the living room. I grabbed a glass of water and slumped onto the sofa and laid my head back. The little tinkering chime in the heirloom clock on the mantelpiece behind me told me it was 5am. I was just in time to watch the sunrise of a new day; a clean slate, where life could decide to give me a break, or fuck me over some more. As morning approached, it brought light shades of pink and orange with it, bleeding into the indigo and purple that lingered from the darkness of night, I thought about Skye and hoped she was sleeping peacefully in Thomas’ arms. As much as it hurt, killed me a little more inside, I just wanted her to be happy. It was all I had ever wanted and I knew Thomas had given her what she deserved.

  The feeling of uncertainty began to move in. Skye had found a good, happy life. She had made it for herself. She was successful and settled. Who was I to drag the past up and bring her down again? The only peace I could find, buried somewhere in the toxic thoughts of the mission I was about to embark on with Jesse, was that I would give Skye the choice if I had to. If I could fix the damage, once I’d discovered the truth about the carnage that had wreaked havoc on their lives, I would leave it be. I had to make the judgement call. I had to decide where to draw the line between what Skye needed to know and what she didn’t. I hated that it was my responsibility now. I had no idea what I would uncover, and what I would fail to find.

  I heard Charlie moving in the bedroom and rolled my eyes. I wanted to be gone by the time she woke up, but my trance meant time had run away from me and it was too late to make a quick exit. My clothes were in a pile at the foot of her bed.

  Fanfuckingtastic.

  “Good morning, Mr Mason.”

  “Good morning, Ms-” she caught my eye as she passed me, wearing my shirt. My gaze followed her until she disappeared behind the kitchen counter. “-Tattersell.”

  “Sleep well?” she asked as the smell of coffee began to waft into the room.

  “Yes. You?”

  I wasn’t alert enough to play her games, but I knew what she was doing. Control by distraction. Distraction by control. The
usual mind fuck. I had to stay focused, let her believe she was playing me, while actually playing her. Christ, this was so screwed up.

  “I did.”

  She joined me in the living room and handed me a cup of coffee, exactly how I liked it.

  “What are you doing today?” I asked, eyeing her hungrily, no matter how much I wanted to be unaffected by her.

  “It’s Saturday.”

  “And that means what?”

  “I’m going for lunch with Nina.”

  I choked on my mouthful of steaming hot morning juice. “I thought we were stopping that.”

  Her eyes narrowed in my direction and she cocked her head to the side, studying me. I looked down and stared a storm into my cup.

  “What are you up to, Curtis?”

  “Nothing.” I answered far too quickly. I panicked. I had to stay calm or she’d walk all over me. “I just thought we discussed a change of tactic last night.”

  “We did.” She stood up and approached me, bending at the waist and levelling her face with mine. “You asked for the freedom to work on your own project and I gave you permission.”

  I reared up and she stepped back cautiously, allowing me to put some distance between us. My blood was molten lava in seconds; I was fuming that she’d screwed with me again.

  “That’s not what we agreed on!”

  She shrugged. “I’m negotiating new terms.”

  “No, you’re twisting things.”

  “Semantics,” she repeated my word from last night with added amusement. “You got what you wanted.” Her head dipped and her eyes, darker than an impending storm, cast a knowing glace up at me. “Why does it matter what I do with Nina?”

  Shit. My mind shut down, went blank. I lost the ability of formulated thought.

  Keep calm, Curtis.

  “So we’re going to make two simultaneous hits? We’ll get caught.”

  “Then drop your project.” Her brows rose. I slumped back onto the sofa and her hands were on my knees in an instant, her nails digging deep.

  She leaned closer. I edged back.

  “I can't.”

  “I know. It’s exactly how I know you’re lying to me, and exactly why you’ll get caught. Whatever you’re doing is personal. That’s the biggest mistake you can make.”

  “It’s not personal,” I lied. “There’s a lot of money in a business that deserves to go under.”

  “Why does it deserve that?”

  “I haven’t figured it out yet.”

  “Well then I suggest you do that before you attempt to throw me off again.”

  She stood up straight and I watched, frozen, as she pulled my shirt over her head and dropped it to the floor between our feet. My eyes stayed fixed on her as she walked slowly across the room, stopping at the door of her bedroom.

  “Oh, and Curtis?”

  I blinked, forcing myself to look at her face and not the little strip of fair hair on the mound that had ground against my pelvis all night. Her body was tight, warm and snug; I couldn’t really care less about what she had to say until she said it.

  “I like it when you stroke my hair.”

  She was mocking me. I saw it in her eyes and heard her shrieks of laughter when she entered her room and shut the door behind her. I waited until I heard the shower running, snuck into the room to grab my clothes. I pulled them on and got the hell out of there.

  ***

  “Curtis Mason!”

  I raised my eyes from the floor to see Jamie, the fitness consultant for Phoenix approaching me. I’d come to the gym after going home to change. Jesse had been coming here for a few weeks. He had a few fights coming up and I needed another set of eyes, someone else to help me decide if he was ready.

  I’d fucked this up once before.

  “Jamie.” I shook his hand. “How are you?”

  “Good, man, good. What brings you here?”

  “I wanted to check up on Jesse. Are you free for a session?”

  “For you? Of course.”

  I followed him through the foyer, thanking the receptionist when she hit the button for the turnstiles. I didn’t look at her. The last time I was here my mind wasn’t my own. I was so ashamed.

  We headed up the stairs, I left my stuff in one of the offices and we went into the main gym.

  “You alright after the other day?” Jamie asked.

  I nodded, avoiding the question and jumped onto the nearest treadmill.

  “How’s Jesse doing?”

  “Good. The man can fight and he’s in pretty good shape, just needs a little endurance training.”

  “Is he ready? Is he safe to be in the ring?”

  A silent message passed between us. Jamie knew why I was worried; I’d met him through Geoff and he’d already been warned about how I could be. Whatever that meant.

  “He is. He knows what he’s doing. I’ve seen him fight before and, trust me, he’s good.”

  “You’ll let me know if anything changes?”

  “I will.” He took the spot next to my machine and hit the increase button. “Now, what about you? Your legs could use some work.”

  I snorted a laugh.

  “Yeah, so I’ve heard. Is it obvious?”

  He waved his head from side to side, not wanting to answer. His reaction was answer enough.

  “Wanna work on them while you’re here?” he grinned wickedly and I knew he had something planned.

  “Yeah,” I hesitated. “What have you got in mind?”

  “Come on.” He slapped my back and my step faltered on the belt. I kept my breathing even but the sweat was beginning to trickle down my back and stomach. “You know I like to play with you. I want to test your body and push your mind.”

  Great. He wanted to play with my less than healthy mind. Time to step up and pretend.

  “Let’s do it.”

  Nothing was removing the smile on Jamie’s face. I imagined how my fist might. “Full back squats.”

  “Fuck.”

  I should have waited until he told me what we were doing. Jamie beckoned me to follow him; I jumped off the treadmill, pumped, and we moved to the weights. I stopped in front of the rack and reached for the barbell, curling my hand around the bar. I paused and glanced over my shoulder, spotting the kid in the corner. He was working out alone, lifting dumbbells that looked impossibly heavy for the size of his arms. He had the same glazed over focus etched on his face. I’d seen him before. Benny the Hunter.

  Jamie looked up from adjusting the weight and followed my line of sight.

  “Ah.” He stepped in front of me and shook his head with a grimace.

  “What does that mean?”

  He nodded to the rack and I turned, adjusted my stance and lifted the barbell up and over my head.

  “He’s crazy.”

  “So I’ve heard.” I tried to look at him again, but Jamie stopped me, pushing my head to face the machine again.

  “You know him?”

  “Seen him around.”

  “Rumour has it, he’s a killer.”

  I cleared my throat to hide my shock. “Since when do you believe in rumours?”

  “Get going,” he chastised and I bent my knees, lowering into a squat and standing back up. “Since he’s shifty and it makes sense.”

  “A rumour, a report of uncertain or doubtful truth-” I exhaled as I lowered and stood again “-does not warrant a reputation as a killer.”

  “He killed his dad.”

  “What the fuck?” I lost my grip and looked over at the kid in the corner. Jamie’s hands shot out and he helped me steady the weight. I shoved him off. “Who kills their own father?”

  “Squat. We’re working out, not gossiping.” I resumed my reps and Jamie spoke in a hushed voice. “His mother was murdered and Benny killed his dad.”

  “Fucking hell.”

  I wanted to take Benny by the scruff of the neck and beat him – more than I did the night I met him. I took it out on my training, using it to push thr
ough the set.

  “What’s the story?” I asked.

  “Search it. Benton Wright. He goes by Benny now. He moved down here from Leeds, supposedly on the run. He boxes for Archer’s.”

  “He’s semi-pro?” I grunted. Fucking full back squats.

  “Yeah, and he’s a fucking lunatic.”

  “He’s just a kid.”

  “Straighten your back.” he tapped his fist between my shoulder blades. My instinct was to drop the weight and pummel him between the eyes. I resisted. “Early twenties.”

  “Why isn’t he banged up?”

  Jamie shrugged. “Not enough evidence.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “I’m telling you, man. Search it. Five more reps.”

  “Can’t you just tell me?”

  “Nah, it’s too gruesome for verbal repetition.”

  A shiver ran through me; a shot of cold to my burning body. Why would anything be too gruesome to talk about? Benny looked like any other young man – nothing about him screamed murderer – except the dark, firm set of his face, and I’d seen a glimpse of the rage he harboured. Still, I couldn’t comprehend a kid killing his father. I would have given anything to have just one minute with my dad.

  I put the barbell back on the rack and stretched my neck.

  “Stiff neck? Sort it out, Cut Throat. Take a breather. I want two more sets.”

  An unexpected shove in the back thrust me into the barbell and knocked the wind out of me. I turned to see Benny walking away.

  “I would say it’s nice to see you,” he sniggered. “But quitters make the place look ugly.”

  I stepped forward, willingly antagonised to the point where I’d hit him without hesitation, but Jamie threw his arm across my chest to stop me. Benny’s laugh echoed around the gym as he made his way out.

  “What the fuck was that?” I pushed Jamie away and shot him a warning glare.

  “Take it out on your body.” He tipped his head towards the rack. “Don’t get involved with him. Come on, two more sets.”

  Thirty One

  Shadow (n); A dark area or shape produced by a body coming between rays of light and a surface.

  Shadow (v); Proximity, ominous oppressiveness, or sadness and gloom.