by Aria Ford
“It’s a bullet,” one of the men called.
I was surprised by the fact that I was relieved to hear that. I had enough of policemen not taking it seriously. It was serious. Imagine if the bullet had hit someone?
When the policemen came out, they were both concerned.
“We’re taking this down to forensics,” they said. “Sir?”
“Yes?” Brett croaked.
“You ready to fill in a statement?”
“He can’t,” I pointed out reasonably. “He wasn’t here.”
He let out a sigh.
“Well, then,” the other officer said sternly, “he can fill in that he wasn’t here. You still need to fill something in.”
I looked at Brett. He had gone gray. I felt terrible for him, though I still had no idea what it was that was bothering him so much.
“Okay,” he said in a taut voice.
We went into the kitchen and filled in the statement while the other cop whose name I’d forgotten, the rude one, went around outside to see what was out there to find.
When the cops finally stood, suddenly much friendlier, to leave, I thought Brett might pass out with relief.
“If anything happens, you call us immediately,” the officer who had been rude said diffidently.
“You have somewhere else to stay? Ma’am? Sir?” the other officer, Nielsen, asked.
“Yes,” I said quickly. “I have an apartment nearby.”
“Good,” the guy said. I noticed him give us a funny look. “Well, you should go there,” he said.
“Thanks, officer,” I said tightly. “Yes. We will.”
When they’d left, I sat down wearily on the floor. I felt drained. We locked the apartment behind us and took the key, ready to head to my place. We were going to be there anyway, ironically. It just hadn’t quite been planned as this essential.
I stayed where I was on the floor of the hallway, the stone cold underneath me. I was too tired to stand.
“Brett?” I said.
“Yes?” His voice was thin with tension, like a wire, crackling with electricity, about to break.
“What is wrong?” I asked gently. “Can you tell me? I need to know… please?”
He sighed. “I don’t know, K.”
I closed my eyes. “Please, Brett.”
He took a long, steadying breath and cleared his throat. “I can’t.”
“You can try,” I said.
He nodded. “I can try.”
CHAPTER 13: BRETT
I stood in the hallway of my apartment building and wondered if I could do this.
“Kerry?” I said quietly.
“Yes?”
“Would it be okay, were we to wait until we get to your place? I can’t say some of this stuff out here.”
She opened those brown eyes. “Okay,” she said.
I sighed. “Thanks.”
We went down to the front door and paused.
“Will you let me go first?” I asked. “Then wait ten minutes and come and pick me up at the grocery store on the other end of the road? Please?”
“No,” she said. “Brett, I’m not letting you go anywhere on your own right now. That guy tried to kill you.”
I nodded. I felt sick. “But, Kerry?” I swallowed. “If he tried to kill me, I am absolutely not putting you in any danger. I won’t let them know that you know me, or I know you. I can’t. Please?”
She sighed. “I don’t want to agree with you,” she said softly. She paused. “You know what?”
“What?”
“Let’s run. We’re both athletic sorts. Let’s see how fast we can get to my car. Okay?”
I stared at her. “Kerry…no!”
She sighed. “We don’t know they’re still out there,” she said sensibly. “In fact, if they were, they would have seen the police and they would certainly have gone away by now. I think it’s probably safer out here now than it ever was.”
I laughed, though it wasn’t really funny, I supposed. “I guess.”
“Okay,” she said. “Let’s go.”
Knowing it was a wild idea, but feeling it had a strange appeal, I let her open the door. I took a low, steadying breath. Looked into her eyes. They locked on mine.
“One, two, three…”
“Go!”
We exploded out together, letting the door slam behind us. I ran for the button and opened the gate and then we were running into the driveway toward where her car was still parked by the sidewalk, next to the big, spreading tree.
We collapsed into the seats, slammed the doors and sped off.
“Ow,” Kerry said. “My ankle.”
“Oh, no,” I said, through gritted teeth. My shoulder was burning. In spite of the seriousness of the situation, I had to see the funny side. Her ankle was aching, my shoulder was throbbing. We were safe and free and alive.
By the time we were at the traffic-light on the end of the road, we were laughing. I felt giddy with relief. It felt as if we had escaped.
We looked at each other.
“Thanks,” I said. I didn’t know what I would have done without her. She smiled at me shyly.
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You did everything.”
She laughed.
When we arrived at her home, I was feeling nervous again. I had let myself get talked into a very bad idea. Two bad ideas.
The police shouldn’t be involved. I shouldn’t have come here now, risked leading them to her.
All the same, it was too late to do anything to change either of them. All I could do was hope.
“We’re making my roast butternut squash,” she said succinctly. “With sautéed onions as a side.”
“Okay,” I said cautiously.
I let her lead me into the kitchen and succinctly hand me a butternut squash. I hoped that she had forgotten what she asked me. I desperately didn’t feel that I could tell her. In fact, the thought of telling her made me more afraid than almost anything had in my life. I couldn’t do it.
“So,” she said when we’d chopped up all the vegetables and she was busy with the sauce. “You want to talk?”
“Not yet,” I admitted. She laughed.
“Okay. Well, I have an idea. How about we let that roast, let ourselves relax for a while and then you tell me after dinner. Good?”
“Great,” I breathed.
The relaxation proved more stimulating than she might have expected and we ended up in bed together. We hadn’t been there long before she jumped up and, laughing, ran to rescue our meal.
We ate and once I had something in my stomach, I had to admit I felt a little better. I leaned back with a sigh. The kitchen was dark, the soft light coming from a single, dim lamp in the background. I felt at peace. If I was ever going to tell my story to anyone, it would be to her, and now.
“Okay,” I sighed. “Remember I told you about when I was on the top of my game? How I felt like I would never be able to keep it at that pitch?”
“Yeah?” she nodded. “I felt that myself.”
“Really?” I frowned.
“Yeah,” she chuckled sadly. “I think I messed my ankle up trying to stay at the top of my game.”
“Oh.” I bit my lip. “Hell, but that’s bad.”
She frowned. “I guess.”
We sat silently for a while. I felt bad that I hadn’t waited to find out her story. It wasn’t, in some ways, that different to my own after all.
“So?” she frowned.
“Okay,” I said with a long, shaky sigh. “Well, when I was at the top and feeling like that, I met some guys. Bad guys. Well,” I chuckled. “Bad for me, anyway.”
I told her all of it. About the drugs, about the debt I ran up, about the threats.
I left nothing out.
When I finished, I looked at her. I couldn’t quite decide what expression was on her face. It was too intense for me to understand.
“Brett,” she said, very softly.
“Yes?”
“You mean to say you have been receiving death-threats from some offshoot of a dangerous Miami drug gang, and you didn’t tell me? What were you thinking?”
I felt the tone of that slam through me, breaking something in me like glass shatters when you drop it. I tensed.
“Kerry,” I started, “Please. Understand the…”
“Understand?” She laughed, a bitter tone to it. “How the hell am I supposed to understand anything when you don’t tell me, Brett? You lied!”
I bit my lip. Yes, I had lied. I might have thought I had a good reason to do so, but I had still lied and still betrayed her trust.
“Kerry,” I sighed. “Yes, I did lie. I know I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” Her voice was hard. “You are in danger. You put me in danger. And you don’t tell me. And you’re sorry? Would you be sorry if we got killed?”
I looked down. If she had wanted to hit me any harder where it really hurt most, she couldn’t have designed a more-effective way.
I ached inside. I trusted her too. And her judgment of me was more than I could face right them.
I looked at my hands.
“Kerry,” I sighed. “I was dumb. Forgive me?”
She didn’t say anything. I looked up at her but she turned away abruptly.
My sadness turned to a kind of blank anger, a feeling that was really hurt, all balled up and compressed inside. I pushed back my chair, scraping on the tiled floor of the kitchen. I stood up.
“Kerry, you’re right,” I said. “I did endanger you. And I’m not doing it anymore. I’m leaving.”
“No, you’re not,” she said firmly.
I sighed. “I can’t stay here, Kerry. Not like this. Not now. It would be wrong. I can’t do it.”
She looked up at me with a flat, blank stare. “Brett,” she said, “you can’t go back.”
I stayed where I was, in the doorway. I had no idea what to do. If I went back, there was a strong possibility that they would kill me. But how could I expect that Kerry would have me in her house, sleeping under her roof, when I had betrayed her so badly? Lied to her? Endangered her.
I couldn’t stay here and sleep in her sitting-room. It would be more than I could take to know she was in the next room, quite possibly naked, without me being able to get close enough to her.
“I have to go,” I said. I turned around and started unlocking the door.
“No!” she yelled. She jumped up from the couch, then stopped. “Brett…I don’t care what you did or what I think about you right now. That’s not a matter of life or death. This is. You can’t go back.”
I sighed. “What else can I do”?
“If you can’t stay here,” she said tightly, “and maybe you’re right about that, I don’t know,” she sighed, “then the best you can do is stay in a motel. I know—I don’t really need an extra expense either. But please? Okay?”
I sighed. I could afford a night somewhere else. And it seemed like a better option right now than staying here and having Kerry mad at me. I nodded.
“Fine,” I said.
“Good,” she said. She breathed out heavily. She didn’t sound like she thought it was good, not really. But she looked relieved. “Let me take you somewhere?”
“No,” I said tightly. “I’ll walk. They don’t know about this place. I don’t think they followed the car—if they were even there.”
She sighed. “There’s a place two blocks away. In Wallflower drive.”
“Fine,” I said again. I looked at the floor. My heart was aching. “Thanks, by the way.”
I looked up and she was looking past me, her eyes wide and expressionless.
“That’s fine,” she said. Her voice wept. “See you.”
I could barely make the words pass my lips. I nodded. “Bye.”
I would have stood there all evening except that she moved to stand, her teeth gritted shut as she put her weight on the ankle. I stepped forward to help.
“Go. Please, Brett?” she said.
I nodded. “Fine.”
I went.
Out in the street it was dark now, properly dark. I found the street-lamps and walked under their pale light. I wanted very badly to cry.
I walked to the corner and turned to where my phone told me to go. I was walking up Wallflower drive, looking for a nearby place, when I caught sight of it. The Wallflower Guesthouse. It didn’t look great but it was far from worth risking death over. I went in and made arrangements to stay there the night.
When I was up in the room, I tried to rest but I couldn’t. I was terrified about the gang coming back. Worried about the police and what they might find. And more than either of those, I couldn’t get her to leave my thoughts.
I couldn’t believe how I had messed up everything. Not only was I close to death with a drug gang if they ever found out that I had let the police know about them, but I had lied to someone who meant more to me than whether or not I was still alive.
It doesn’t really matter if I survive this, if I lose her.
That seemed excessive, even to me, but really it wasn’t. If I couldn’t hear from her and see her, if we were enemies now, I wouldn’t want to see the sun rise and my life would seem gray and flat and uninteresting. Not worth living.
I sat down on the bed and covered my face and tried to calm down. My mind kept on running through one worry after another, but I must eventually have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew there was a soft gray light falling through the curtains onto my face and it was morning.
CHAPTER 14: KERRY
Sunday morning. I woke up and stretched and rolled over, getting out of bed. It was weird, but though I usually looked forward to Sundays—my day off, the day just for relaxation and fun—this morning I was unhappy.
Dammit, Brett. Why did he have to do that?
I wasn’t sure why I was so furious with him, not exactly. But I was. I sat down at the big table in my kitchen and thought about it. Coffee made a wreath of steam around my hair and I breathed in the fragrance, hoping it would calm me down.
“Why didn’t he tell me?” I said.
Under all my outrage, that was the big question. I felt betrayed. I really thought that Brett trusted me and that I could trust him too. But now, I wasn’t sure.
He had told me only half the story. If he was truly fond of me—let’s be honest, if he truly loved me—he would have told me about everything. How was I supposed to trust him, when he didn’t trust me?
I was furious and I felt like I’d been made a fool of.
“Right,” I said to myself firmly. “Breakfast.”
I wasn’t going to let my mind dwell on it. The more I thought about it, the more hurt I got and the more hurt I got, the less likely I was to think of anything else. I went over to find breakfast.
As I did, I remembered yesterday—eating breakfast at work. Being with Brett. Coffee together. Him smiling at me.
I groaned. I wondered suddenly if he was having breakfast. The guesthouse probably didn’t do breakfast. Did he have cash with him? I hadn’t even thought about where he might get something to eat! I worried about him. If he was okay. If his wound was healing up.
I missed him, I realized.
“Kerry,” I said aloud, “you have been an idiot.”
It was true. I had turned my back on him now, when he needed me most. Because I felt betrayed.
I sat down on the couch, my finger over the dial button on my phone. I needed to talk to someone. I just didn’t know who.
On impulse, I looked up my old friend, Joanna. We hadn’t talked for ages—not since I left dance—but I reckoned there was no time like now to catch up. I needed someone who really knew me. Really understood. And it had been too long since I reached out to people. I needed to keep that route open, to my old life. It was too much a part of me to let it go.
Taking a deep breath, I dialed.
“Hello?” I said. I was shaking. I had no idea why. I guess I’d b
een out of touch with that part of my life for so long that getting back in touch was scary.
“Hello…” she began, hesitant. “Who is? Oh!” She exclaimed. “Oh! Kerry? That isn’t you, is it? How the…”
I laughed. “Joli!” I said, using her nickname. “It’s me! It’s so amazing to hear you.” I couldn’t believe how good it felt. I was smiling so much my face hurt. It was wonderful.
“Kerry! Where the hell are you?” she said, laughing. “When you left… none of us could believe it. It was like you vanished! Where have you been for these years?”
I laughed again. “It’s so good to hear you. I’m in Colorado.”
“Why are you there?” she asked.
It was such an abrupt, affronted question that I couldn’t help laughing. “Oh, Joli. I moved here because I have an uncle here who helped me find a place. I just…I couldn’t stay in Miami. Not after…not after that.”
She sighed. “Well, I guess I understand. It would have been hard to stay here, where everyone knew who you were.”
I nodded. “Yes.”
It was so good to talk to someone who understood. She knew what it would have meant for me, to have to walk around as the ex-lead-dancer. I couldn’t have done that to myself. People would have pitied me, and I couldn’t handle the thought of being pitied.