“Right. Now that the introductions are all done, you best be on your way before these two get restless. Max here has warmed them up, and they're ready to go.”
He handed us each a helmet and indicated that there would be no more talking until we both wore them. The clip clicked into place and I turned back to Clyde.
I looked at the horse, studying the creature from beyond the barrier of the fence and questioned my sanity as Geoffrey’s voice cut through my doubts.
“Climb over the fence and stand on the second rung, then grab a hold of the horn, that’s that rounded looking handle at the front of the saddle. When you feel balanced, swing your foot over, get yourself into the saddle, and your feet in the stirrups. I’ll double check your length once you’re on.”
I glanced from Geoffrey to Clyde and back again. Geoffrey was already halfway over the fence, “Don’t worry, I’ll even hold him for you.”
I wasn’t really worried. Not really.
I climbed over the fence and grabbed onto the horn, it was solid and comforting as I swung my weight over from the fence to the horse. Clyde shuffled a little as I adjusted myself in the saddle.
“Now, grab the reins till Max takes over.” I did as I was told, feeling the horse’s powerful muscles ripple beneath me as he flicked his head from side to side, his mane whipping before me. Geoffrey adjusted my stirrups and patted Clyde along the neck, whispering something to the horse. Sitting on the saddle, I touched the animal’s neck, patting and stroking like Geoffrey had. Clyde twitched his ears and took a few steps back. He smelt of the earth—a dark, rooty fragrance with flinty undertones. It made me feel safer, and for a second I wondered how my smell made him feel.
My body tightened and I gripped the reins as Geoffrey spun me around then let go of the horse, leaving me floating on the back of the beast.
“Do you need help there, miss? Gabriel there said you used to ride, so I just assumed…”
“I’m fine.” She was panting, her body leaning forward and her knuckles white on the horn as she adjusted herself on the saddle.
“You sure?” Geoffrey tightened her stirrups.
“I said I was fine.” She was more firm that time.
Geoffrey shrugged and produced a sound like one of his horses, “Best grab the reins then, miss.”
I studied Mia, my brow cocked, and uncertainty fell inside me like the first winter snow. It settled in the pit of my stomach; Mia wasn’t ready.
Before I had time to finish the thought Max was beside me clicking his tongue and Clyde took off in a slow gentle walk around the paddock, walking along side Garnet. As we walked, Max gave me a crash course in horse riding.
It was already uncomfortable. I didn’t see the attraction, but Mia loved horses enough to keep their pictures by her bedside table. It made her happy. These gentle giants made her happy. So, I would try to like it, to bare it, even if just for a day. Because, I realised I was willing to do anything that would make Mia happy. Looking back, I guess that’s where I went wrong. But we’ll get to that.
Geoffrey opened the gate and Max led us out and down towards a path that veered away from the farm and into open countryside.
The world seemed different from the back of the horse, hypnotic almost. The horse’s ears bobbed slowly in front of me as I rocked back and forth in the saddle. The crisp morning air blanketed us and the sun fought to penetrate the cold. Clyde’s hoofed steps crunched along the gravel track, and he blew huge clouds of steam from his nostrils as he powered on.
I had to admit it was beautiful, and for a fleeting moment I thought of Alice. Maybe it was the cold that kissed my face or the trees shedding the last of their leaves, or all the open untouched space. I thought of the park and shivering under a thin blanket that did nothing to shelter me from the cold. I dismissed the thought. Alice didn’t belong here with me and Mia and these fucking horses. I sucked in a long, cold breath that seared my throat and cleared my head.
My thighs and ass burned by the time the horses climbed to the top of a solitary hill. We stopped near a tree, whose burning orange and brown canopy still hung on and cast a long shadow across the lush green grass.
Max hopped off his horse and relieved it of the picnic basket and rug it had been carrying. He unfurled the rug in a long-practiced movement then lay the basket in one corner. He looked to Mia and I, who were still mounted.
“I'll be back in an hour. I'll just go walk them off and give them some water.” The tip of his lips twitched in a smirk, “Do you need a hand dismounting.”
I glared at him and uncurled my frozen hand from the reins and grabbed the horn, swinging myself off the horse. Everything pulled and screamed at me. Max shrugged and approached Mia, taking Bonnie’s reigns. He hopped back onto Garnet and within a minute had disappeared down the path.
I sat on the rug, stretching my legs and flexing my aching hands. Mia tucked herself beside me and I laced my fingers with hers.
“Are you okay?” She nodded silently. The girl that I was with this morning, all of a sudden a completely different person, “I'm sorry it was insensitive of me, I should've asked you first. I thought you would be ready and excited.”
She turned to look at me, “Oh but I am, it's all just so overwhelming.” She ran a hand over her thigh.
“Would you like something to eat?” Even before I opened the basket, I could smell the freshly baked bread, the aroma rushing out of the basket and evaporating into the breeze. I rummaged inside and unpacked the contents. I laid the bread, cheeses, and fresh produce on the rug. I grabbed the bottle of water and a long red flask of coffee. I unscrewed the lid hoping the aroma would snap Mia out of whatever trance she had sunk into.
Mia was staring out in silence watching the world around us, listening to the buzzing of the insects and the whispering of the wind in the leaves. She looked at me, solemn and serious, tucking a loose strand behind her ear.
“What is it?” I asked pulling myself closer around her.
“Tell me why you don't want kids.” The question took me by surprise.
“Why does it matter?” My brow gathered in a severe line above my eyes.
“Don’t change the subject.”
“I wasn’t.” I flexed my fists at my sides.
“You’re answering a question with a question. Just tell me.”
I raked a hand through my hair and sucked in a deep breath, “I don't want kids because I don't want to be responsible for another person I might not be able to take care of.” Her face softened and her features changed. A warmth radiated from her, one that screamed of compassion and empathy, I didn’t want either.
“I don't want a piece of my heart walking outside of my body twenty-four hours a day without having any control of what’s going to happen. It's too hard. I’m already responsible for you and Spots…”
“You can’t control everything Gabriel.”
“Exactly. Look at what happened to Simone—to you. Life is fucking cruel,” my heart stammered, “I don’t want to bring a kid into the world and watch it suffer.”
“So, don’t watch it suffer.”
I exhaled my frustration, “It’s not that easy. I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened…” I rubbed a hand over my face, “Anyway, any kid would deserve better. No one deserves a piece of shit dad like me.”
“But you're not a piece of shit.”
“You have no idea what I am,” I stilled for a second, my heart smashing against my chest, “Why are you pushing this hard? Are you…?” I let the words fall to the ground like the autumn leaves, a cold spear of fear pierced my heart.
She just shook her head. The relief was immediate and she flashed me a sad look, “Tell me about them. Tell me about the kids Gabriel.”
I put my bread down, my appetite suddenly gone. I've told her everything else, I guess it was time to come clean about what I did with Tony's legacy.
Part XX
The dead screamed at me from their void. Lost souls of victims that never
got a chance. Their childhood taken away by the swipe of a pen or the point of a finger.
Once I took care of Judge Crabb, I knew I had lit a match and the explosion that would follow would be devastating.
So I hid—buried in dog shit and love. Simone afforded me the shelter I needed without knowing it. For a brief while, I might have even believed that everything happened for a reason. Spots got hurt so that I could be saved; but then I looked at his mangled leg and wet eyes, and I knew there was no meaning or reason, only me.
Whatever I touched turned to shit.
During the days when I lived at the dog rescue, I would help Simone. I cleaned and washed dogs, fed them, learning how to interact with the friendly ones and how to avoid the aggressive ones. I learned that patience and calmness often turned their attitudes. Simone provided them with love, enough from the both of us I guess; so when they warmed to her, they also accepted me like I was an inseparable part of her, like her shadow.—not really there, not really real. Or maybe it was the darkness they sensed inside me.
I allowed their affection and slobber to slide off me as I kept myself detached, saving the empathy I had left for Spots.
Dogs are akin to people, and they taught me a few very valuable lessons. Just because they’re friendly and let you pet them, doesn’t mean they won’t turn on you in a second and bite your hand off. Just because they let you approach, doesn’t mean they want to be your friend. Just because they’ve been hurt once and lash out, doesn’t mean they don’t need your love.
Simone managed to pry me open. Maybe it was her need to be with another human after spending so much time with animals that don’t talk back in the same language, or maybe it was my need to feel closeness. We talked. She was like the mother I never had and the friend I never knew I needed. She allowed me to be angry about Alice and sad about Spots without any judgement. She didn’t pamper me or spoil me, instead she made sure I earned everything and worked for it. She made me want to work for it. She made me want to get up and help her, she made me care—about her and her stupid beautiful, broken dogs. She made me want more for myself. She gave me the most dangerous gift a person could give another. Hope.
We made memories—good ones, happy ones like in that picture of hers. Somedays I still think we could have been on that wall together in a collection of happy moments that we shared. But I wasn’t one for pictures and maybe she had all the broken memories she cared to hold on to.
At night after Simone turned her lights off, I would stay awake and dig through my treasure of despair. I grabbed the photos first and organised them into numbers from first to last. Then I cross referenced them with the names in the blue book. After the first month I had a list, the names of all the motherfuckers who sold their children to Tony for protection.
I remembered the faces, each haunted pair of eyes, and naked, tortured piece of exposed flesh. Every night I promised them retribution as I fell into a fitful sleep.
By the end of the second month, I had compiled a list of addresses and work places. I knew what they each did and why they paid Tony but, best of all, I knew where their tapes where.
I was getting impatient, I wanted to act. But I was learning that to get a dog to trust you, you needed to take time, you need to make them comfortable and allow them to get to know you, to sniff your hand, come closer a little each day until you became their master.
By the end of the third month, Spot’s leg was looking better and Salvatore finally made contact.
He showed up late one night, alcohol and perfume trailing him like a tail.
He greeted Simone who didn’t seem happy to see him.
He cocked his head at her in greeting and she looked at me, her sharp gaze full of annoyance.
“I’ll let you boys talk.” She took her leave without saying another word.
“Where the hell have you been?”
“Keeping low.”
“In someone’s pussy?”
His mouth cracked into a smile, “Low is low...”
“When I said we needed to hole up, that’s not what I meant,” I shook my head in disgust. When he said nothing else, I led him into my room and closed the door behind us.
I pulled out the blue book and the lists I’ve made, “I’ve been working.”
“That’s good.”
“We need a plan.”
He nodded and we sat down. I showed him my lists. The more I spoke, the darker his expression got and the more sombre. A dark coldness fell on the room as if his mood was a colour, murky and angry. Salvatore refused to touch the book; he never came near it, as if it contained a deadly virus. I’ve never seen him scared before, but that book played with his mind, plagued it, just as it did my own.
“So, what are we going to do about this?” He hissed the question.
“We’re going to burn those motherfuckers down.”
“So, you’re crawled out of your hole?” Lupe asked, his face a mask of calm. I knew that beyond it lay turbulent waters, “I was so sorry to hear about your girlfriend.”
I swallowed his insult and ignored his bait.
“I’m here for your truce.”
“Oh?” He tucked his hands behind his head as he leaned back into the chair, his feet still on the desk. “Ran out of ideas? Money? Time?”
The men around the room laughed. I remained calm.
“You’re about four months too late boy.”
“Here is my offer,” I inhaled, “I want you to leave town and leave me alone. I will keep ownership of the car wash and you will buy it off me for a generous profit and then sell Tony’s garage to me. All our business dealings in this matter will be legitimate, all transactions legal,” As I spoke Lupe’s smile widened as if I was a crazed man, “In return, I will give you my word that I will not release your tapes and, in a show of good faith, I will give you one.” At that his smile cracked and fell away like plaster from a moulding wall, “And I’ll even let your people decide whose tape you get.”
Lupe sat for a while and rearranged his features. The anger behind the eyes blazed as he strained to keep his face expressionless.
“Anything else?”
“Yes.”
His nostrils flared and eyes widened at my impertinence, “I want you to tell your men to leave me and mine alone.”
“And if we refuse?”
“I will release all your tapes, but not to the authorities. To your wives and lovers, to your daughters and sons, to your business partners and your enemies.” My words drifted off and filled the room.
Lupe’s face twisted in a grimace and his legs fell off the table, his back straightened and he held his head high, his eyes blazing into mine.
“I’ll get back to you.”
As I got up, a long languid smile crossed his face, “Tell me, how’s your dog doing?”
I clenched my jaw and locked eyes with the man, “This is a limited time offer, you have till 5pm tonight to give me your answer. And trust me, I will not come after your friends and dogs—I will come after everyone.”
I turned away and walked out of the office.
I didn’t go back to Simone’s, knowing Lupe was having me watched now that I had shown my face again. I had no intention of putting Simone or Spots in danger again. I didn’t meet up with Salvatore. Instead, I waltzed into the car wash like I owned the place which, according to all relevant paperwork, I did. Everyone’s jaws fell open as they saw me strolling through the car wash up the stairs and into my bedroom. Someone else was staying there. It pissed me off, but not enough to really care. It was never home anyway.
I packed up what was left of my clothes and went to the office. I kicked out the random who sat at my desk and waited for the phone to ring.
It took them three hours and twenty-three minutes to accept my offer. The tape they asked for belonged to a higher up that had a taste for the morbid and macabre, the contents of which still makes my stomach churn.
I called Desmond. He wasn’t happy to hear from me. I wasn’t
surprised. I wanted to know about his next shift so that I could come collect the tape. Once plans were laid in place, I drove out of the city and gave Lupe’s men the slip. If they knew the location of the tapes, it would all be over before it ever started.
When I met Lupe the following morning, he looked disheveled and out of sorts unlike his usual kempt appearance. I guess his employers weren’t too happy with how events played out. It made me glow from the inside out. Watching him squirm gave me insurmountable amounts of joy.
He sat across from me at the car wash, not the same man that walked in four months before following Tony’s death. Everything has slipped out of his slimy hands, and I have no doubt he anticipated a six-foot pit that was awaiting him when he returned home with the tape. I wanted to feel sorry for the man but, really, I felt nothing—just joy at his impending demise.
“Do you have the tape?”
I guess we were no longer exchanging pleasantries or wasting time. “First I want the garage.”
Lupe nodded at one of the other men who opened up a suitcase and pulled out a wad of paperwork. The papers were meticulous, the white, glaring around the dark room. All the I’s were dotted and T’s crossed. “I think you’ll find the offer for the car wash more than generous.” Lupe’s voice was curt as if it stung him to talk.
I took my time, stretching out his torment. He shifted in his seat as I took a leisurely read of the contract. It didn’t matter, not really. I knew there was too much at stake for them to fuck this up for me, but watching that fucker squirm was something I didn’t want to bypass.
When I signed the paperwork, I handed it back to the man whose sausage fingers grabbed the paper as if it was china. He placed it back in the suitcase.
“The money?”
“Already in your bank account.”
I knew it was but I wanted to hear him say it. I nodded and reached for my top drawer, took out the tape and handed it over to Lupe. He snatched it from my hand then held it like a burning coal, shifting it from one hand to the next as if they were catching fire—it was too hot a commodity. He stashed it into his jacket.
Broken Parts (A Dark Romance) (Parts of Me Book 3) Page 6