The Dark Scarlett

by Aven Jayce

  “Well, I have to do something. I want to help you prepare for the big event. What about the two of you? Are you excited, what’s on the agenda for the upcoming weeks? You must be planning a little bit. What about a nursery? The ground floor bedroom is too far away from your room. It’s floors apart. What will you do for a nursery?” she speaks quickly with a grin that can’t be contained.

  I sigh, knowing that I just gave her some of the best news of her life, and now I have to rain on her parade. “We’re both very excited. It’s the best news of my life, but the loft isn’t a good place for a baby. We could make it work for a while, but eventually we need a home that has two bedrooms on the same floor. I also don’t like the thought of being so many stories up, especially if a door or a window is left open.” I watch her eyes turn down in sadness, but she nods in agreement without saying a word. My father takes her hand and tries to put a different spin on the news.

  “This is good, Leondra. We want our grandchild to be safe, and Cove and Sophia are thinking ahead. We can help them find a lovely house in the city, with a yard, and we can head over there a few times a week for a bar-b-que or coffee. But Cove’s right, this area, the building, being in the downtown business district, it’s just not the best environment for a baby.”

  My mother nods again, her words caught in her throat. She’s visibly upset, but also understands our needs.

  “Leondra,” Sophia speaks up. “I’d love it if you’d help us find a new home, go with us to view the houses in person, and then when we find the right one, I could use your decorating skills for the inside.”

  “Deal,” my mother attempts a smile. “I’m sorry you two, really I am. I know I’m being selfish, but it would be so nice to walk down the hall at anytime and give the baby a hug. At the same time, your needs are more important than mine.”

  “Wherever we are, you’re still welcome to come over every day. Especially to change diapers. We’ll make sure we stay close enough for you to do that,” I joke, forgetting about the splinted hand I have hidden under the table. I reach for my knife then close my eyes in regret when my mother sees my swollen fingers. Damn.

  “What happened to you?” she asks with a sudden crack in her voice. “Cove, your fingers, my God, they look broken. What did you do? Popsicle sticks? What happened!”

  “Just a little accident, I’m fine. No worries. Let’s talk more about the baby and what we’d like to find in a home.”

  “I’d like to know about those fingers as well. I asked you earlier and you ignored me,” my father says.

  “I was ignoring you for other reasons, Dad.”

  “You have to tell them,” Sophia whispers. “Something like this is there business. David’s part of...”

  “David?” my father stands before us. “What the fuck is this about? What the hell happened to you?” His voice is direct as he stares me down. “Now, Cove. Stop fucking around.”

  “Okay. Jesus.” I turn to my mother, not wanting to hurt her with this information. “I don’t think Mom should hear some of this, it’s a sensitive subject.”

  “Now, Cove,” my mother says, just as angry as my father.

  “I got money from my father’s estate and David wants it,” Sophia takes the plunge. “He contacted me a few times but I’ve been ignoring him, so he went after Cove. We’re giving the assbag the money. I don’t want it, but unfortunately I didn’t make that decision fast enough for him not to do harm.”

  I slide my hand down my face and sigh. “I’ll be fine. Bones heal, and I was piss drunk so I barely felt a thing.”

  “Son-of-a-bitch! Fuck that. I had a guy break my fingers in prison and I cried like a baby. You shouldn’t have to suffer through such torture. Where did this happen?” my father demands more answers as he does the fucking hand in hair thing again. We’re starting to look like twins in our obsessive mirrored behaviors.

  Sophia’s quiet as I stand and face my father. “It was at Kaitlyn Moore’s house.”

  “What the heck were you doing doing at that woman’s house?” my mother fumes. “And how does she know David?”

  My father and I face one another, our nostrils flare and our rapid breathing fills the room. “She doesn’t know him,” I say through my teeth. “Not really. And she probably wishes now that she’d never met him. I was set up in some fucked up way to go to her house.” Sophia turns away and shakes her head in disgust. “I wanted information about Dad and Ivy, I didn’t have a clue that he’d be waiting for me.”

  My mother tosses her napkin on the table and heads for the kitchen for the bottle of wine. She pours herself another glass as both my father and I sit down.

  “How long have you known about them, Mom, and why didn’t you tell me?” I say softly as she returns to the table. My breathing is now deep as I discipline myself to stay in control. Take in your own advice, just like you always say to Sophia, breathe in... breathe out. You can get through this.

  “It was never my place to tell you such a thing, it was your father’s,” she turns to him with disappointment in her eyes. “Kaitlyn Moore stopped me on the street one day when I was walking you to grammar school. She was holding a baby in her arms that she claimed was your father’s. I hurried away before you started asking questions about what she meant by that, and I never saw her again. I trusted your father would have told me if it was true. I held my faith that it wasn’t, gave him my heart and soul, and thought his feelings were mutual.”

  “They were,” he whispers. “I was afraid of losing the two of you.”

  “I’ve had decades to think about it, and then I let it slip into our past,” my mother sighs and takes three large gulps of wine. My hand twitches for the bottle. It’s that time of the day and under these conditions when my body and mind crave liquor.

  Sophia taps the tabletop with her fingernail, unquestionably nervous, and I don’t blame her. She’s pregnant, worried about David, and is in the middle of a family at war. Both she and I seem to be shit magnets.

  “Why did you let Ivy work at the Scarlett?” she questions my mother.

  “I never made the connection. There’re a lot of Moore’s in this world, and even if I had figured out she was Kaitlyn’s daughter, there wasn’t anything I could have done about it... or would have wanted to do about it. I have nothing against an innocent twenty-one-year-old girl.” She turns to my father and purses her lips as though she’s keeping her remaining words locked inside.

  “Listen, no one is looking favorably at me right now, but I’d like us to move away from the Kaitlyn discussion and talk about David. I don’t want the two of you to see him again,” my father turns to me. “I can pass the money along and take care of this; it will be safer that way. When are you supposed to meet him?”

  “Don’t know. Soph still has a check, so we need to figure things out at the bank first, and then one would assume it will take some days to clear.”

  “All you have to do is sign it over, just make sure that’s what he wants. Do it the way he tells you, and I’ll deliver it,” he says.

  My mother nods in agreement. “Sophia needs to stay out of this, especially for the baby’s sake. No stress,” she points a finger toward my wife’s stomach. “And Cove, you too. I’m not going to argue with your father on this one. He’s the only person in this family who should be meeting with David face-to-face. You have a child to think about now.” She stands and walks to the master bedroom and returns with a medical kit.

  “Mom, I’m fine.”

  “No, I still have my own child to take care of at times, and you have popsicle sticks taped to your fingers. And don’t think I can’t see the mark on your cheek that’s so poorly covered with makeup. That was a sad attempt at hiding something from me. You’re not fine,” she scolds as she takes a package of frog finger splints from the box.

  “I remember those.”

  “I still have them from when you were a teenager and got your fingers caught in a car door.”

  “Same ones.”


  “Well, I never had any reason to throw them away.”

  “No, I meant same fingers. Ah!” I cry out as she peels the tape off and sets the splints. My balls disappear as I swear and scream like a wussy ass fuck. It’s a pain that makes your head spin, and at the same time, my mother’s touch and care feel like a safe haven. “Fuckin’ hell! Stop!” I scream. She sits back and I pant with clenched teeth. “Thank you,” I whisper, as she closes the box and pushes it to the side of the table.

  “Now, everyone finish your chicken so we can eat some Mississippi mud pie,” she says. My plan was to have an enjoyable dinner with my family, and I’m not about to sit here and allow this conversation to be about David and Kaitlyn, when it should be about Sophia and the baby.”

  “Bring on the weight gain,” Sophia shoots a smile toward my mother in an effort to help her steer the discussion in a better direction. “I get two pieces of that mud pie, right?”

  “You can have as many pieces as your belly can handle,” my mother laughs.

  “Queasy over juice, but not over mud pie? Someone explain how that’s possible.” I shake my head.

  “Get used to it. Soon you’ll be sent out in the middle of the night for the oddest food requests.” My father raises his wine glass and we follow. “Let’s start the evening over, and do it right this time.”

  I take Sophia’s hand and give it a kiss, then turn to my father and nod.

  “A toast to my son, his remarkable wife, and our soon-to-be grandchild. A new generation of Everton, and a little one we can’t wait to meet. You’re going to be cherished and loved by everyone in this family.”

  “And spoiled rotten by grandmamma,” my mother chimes in as we clink glasses and enjoy the rest of the evening. There’s no further talk of Kaitlyn, Ivy, or David. The focus is on Sophia and my new son or daughter, as it should be.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Blood runs down the pavement to the curb. It’s the color of our wine, a dark scarlet red. My first thought is that someone passed out drunk behind our bar and maybe broke a bottle of wine when they hit the ground. But then I see the dark trail starts at the person’s head, and the area is taped off. What the fuck happened?

  I park and step out of the car as an officer rushes toward me with a raised hand.

  “Step back.”

  “This is my business establishment. Jesus, what’s going on?” I see Haverty off to the side making a statement while he holds the leashes of his two bulldogs. They’re barking up a storm as officers are marking the ground and photographing the body. Now I know why I couldn’t get a hold of him when I called. “Fuck,” I whisper. I can’t get close enough to see a face, but I know it’s a guy by the fact that he’s wearing a suit, although, that’s very stereotypical of me.

  “Are you Cove Everton?” the officer asks.

  “Yes.”

  “Come with me, a detective would like to speak with you.” Haverty nods toward the body as I walk to the side of the building. Shit... I can see him now, it’s fucking David Rosen.

  “Mr. Everton, I’m Detective Ferguson from the city homicide unit.”

  “Detective.” My voice ebbs in distress as I shake the hand of the tall salt-and-pepper haired man. He’s middle aged and is wearing clothing that’s been carefully attended to, with an ironed shirt and pants that have a perfect crease down the front. I’d say he’s married. No man stays so put together without a woman in the house.

  “Are you opening soon?” he asks.

  “No, not today. Wednesday through Saturday we’re open for business.”

  “What are you doing down here on a Tuesday evening?”

  “I check on the place once a day.” My phone rings as we’re speaking. Damn, bad timing, Sophia.

  “Important?”

  “My wife.” I press the ignore button and turn off the ringer... she’s gonna have a shit fit.

  “Mr. Everton, a passerby called to report a person lying behind your building. We thought it was just a homeless man who had passed out, then considered it was a possible homicide, but now we believe this may actually be a suicide. Did you know the deceased? David Rosen?”

  I try and act surprised, even though I already saw his face. “Yes. I know David. He’s my mother’s uncle.”

  “A family member? Did he work for you?”

  “No,” I shake my head in total disbelief that David committed suicide. No fucking way, but I won’t mention my feelings to the cops.

  “Have any idea what he was doing behind your business today?”

  “No.”

  Haverty approaches with Prudence and Max in tow, still barking like little shits. He hushes them and they finally calm down. The cops aren’t going to put up with these dogs for much longer.

  “Crazy ass shit, buddy. I’m calling our security company to have a camera installed back here. I can’t believe the cops have been here three times in a week.” Haverty looks up as if he’s scouting a place to install a surveillance system.

  “Sophia’s not a big fan of security cameras,” I respond.

  “Three times?” the detective cuts in.

  “One of our employees was attacked back here last week by her ex-boyfriend, and we had our front window smashed by the same guy.”

  “So, nothing with Mr. Rosen?”

  “No.” God, I’m afraid I’ll look shady if I stop answering his questions. Damn it.

  “Cove, your parents just pulled in,” Haverty motions toward the edge of the lot as his dogs begin another bark fest. I look down at the two bulldogs and back at him. He nods and moves them away from the detective and myself, walking toward my parents at the edge of the lot. My mother raises a hand to her mouth and turns away when she recognizes the body while my father’s face turns white. He takes my mother in his arms and tries to comfort her. I don’t believe her tears are for her uncle, but rather the thought that one of us may be blamed for his death. Haverty starts to fill them in on the details as the detective finishes taking a few notes.

  “Mr. Everton, we’ll probably be here for at least another hour. Will you be around the next couple of days if we have further questions for you?”

  “Yes, I’m available whenever you need me.”

  He shakes my hand with a thank you. Too easy. Way too fucking easy. Something’s wrong. I turn back to my father who now has a half-grin on his face after speaking with Haverty. He was supposed to meet with David this afternoon to give him the check, but not here, at the St. Louis Arch. Fuck, that check with Sophia’s name better not be in David’s pocket. And where’s his car?

  I give my mother a hug as we meet on the other side of the police line. Her body trembles in my arms while I try to calm her nerves. She witnessed Sophia’s father get shot in the head. Now, her uncle lies before her with the same wound. The detectives cover the body and continue working the scene while my father speaks to the same detective who I just spoke with. We’re off to the side, but I have enough of a view to see what they’re doing.

  “Why did you and Dad come down here?”

  “The police called to inform us we had a shooting behind the bar. We wanted to know what happened.”

  “Sit in the car for now so you don’t have to see David.”

  “This is bad, Cove,” she whispers.

  “I know.”

  “No, you don’t. Number three,” she says. “Death comes in threes, and I’ve been worried sick about our family since Paul’s death. This is number two, so who will be three?”

  I help her into the Escalade, and she takes a tissue from her purse to wipe her cheeks free of tears.

  “Do you know if Dad met him this afternoon?” I look at my phone and see five missed calls from Sophia.

  “No, I don’t,” she says quietly. “He was supposed to at three, what time is it now?”

  “Six.”

  “He’s been out of the house since two, but there was a slight problem with the check. I received the call from the police as he was walking in the door,” she whispers while
keeping an eye on her husband. We watch him shake the detective’s hand and join us at the car. “Clear your head, Cove. I know what you’re thinking and you know your father better than that.”

  “I know. What was the issue with the check?”

  “Meet us back at the loft, son. Not here. The detective wants us to clear out,” my father says, silencing any further questions before they have a chance to leave my mouth. I nod in agreement and head for my car as my parents drive away.

  “Hey, Hav, call me when everything’s taken care of back here, okay?” He waves me on to leave as his dog takes a shit just outside the taped off area. What the fuck was Haverty doing here anyway? I can’t imagine the police called him to come down before the family. Maybe because he’s our head of security? Or maybe he’s friends with some of these guys on the force?

  I pull onto the street and look in my rear view mirror at the scene. A body, blood, dog shit, cops... last week a broken window and Ivy’s assault; The Dark Scarlett is starting to live up to its name. I fucking need to change it to something that will bring us a better vibe. Fuck-a-duck, I forgot about Soph. I take out my phone and see I now have eight missed calls. She’s gotta be fuming.

  “Sorry, I missed your calls.”

  “No shit, Sherlock. The fucking cops called.”

  “I know. I just spoke with them.”

  “They said there was a shooting behind the bar?” she says in a worried tone.

  “I’m just a few blocks from home, I’ll talk to you about it in person.”

  “Everything okay?”

  I’m quiet for a few moments and listen to her breathing. I hear the door to our terrace slide open and the wind jet against her cell. She’s watching for me as I drive toward our building.

  “Cove?”