Chicks, Man

by J. D. Hollyfield

  He’s listening to whoever is on the other line when I notice something distract him. He leans into his open vehicle and stands straight again, Hannah’s phone in his hand. Her battery must have enough juice to turn back on. Curious as to what leads her phone will offer us, I trek closer. I’m two feet away when the color on Jim’s face pales.

  “What? What is it?”

  Jim tears his searing gaze from her phone to meet mine. “My daugh—why does—someone sent her photos of Braydon and—he…he’s standing in what seems to be a family photo with Benjamin Miller.”

  Hannah

  “What the hell have you done?”

  I’m jolted awake by yelling. My head is like a hundred-pound bowling ball as I try to lift my eyes toward the commotion. “I asked you to take care of this quietly. This is NOT quietly.”

  Braydon comes into view. “It was an accident—”

  The man strikes his large hand across Braydon’s cheek, snapping his head sideways. “An accident? An accident? There’s a woman lying lifeless over there and this one’s bleeding to death. I see no accident, son.” The man’s large frame adjusts until he’s in my line of sight.

  Confusion followed by recognition sets in. Disorientation washes over me at the disbelief. My voice shakes with incredulity as I say his name. “Benjamin Miller.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement. Because I know that face. I never doubted if I ever came eye to eye with this man, his would shine like the Devil’s. Evil comes in many forms, one being Benjamin Miller.

  “Dad, she needs help. I need you to help her.”

  “Don’t you dare touch me, you monster!” I spit out, using most of my energy.

  Benjamin eyes me with contempt for a quick moment before he speaks. “Don’t worry. I don’t plan on it.” He cocks his head back to his son. “Clean this up. Burn the house down for all I care. Make it look like an accident. Two ladies catching up over tea when a glitch in the stove causes the house to blow up in flames.”

  Braydon’s horrified expression mirrors mine. “What? No, Dad. I won’t. Not with her in it. She’s coming with me,” he pleads with this father. “Please, just help her. I’ll make sure this doesn’t fall on us. Without that bitch over there, we’re as good as free anyhow. I’ve done everything you’ve asked.”

  What has Braydon done?

  The scary manic expression he holds in his gaze says it all. Levi’s suspicions have been right all along. The person threatening Clara has been Braydon. His hands are just as dirty as his father’s.

  I’m going to be sick.

  My stomach convulses, sending a throbbing spasm to spiral down my side. “You…” I choke out, “you’re the one who messed with all the files.”

  Something inside him shuts down. Gone is the Braydon who cares, in its wake a blank stare. “I did what had to be done.”

  “Had to be done? Allowing people to die?”

  He takes a menacing step toward me, his shoulders trembling in unexpected anger. “I protected my future. Miller Industries will one day be all mine, and your father and his company tried to take that away from me. So yes, I did what had to be done.”

  The missing files.

  Changes in log-in information.

  “It was you. You changed all the information in the system. Deleted the testimonies.” How did he get away without anyone putting two and two together he was Benjamin Miller’s son? “Why? For what? You haven’t helped your future, you’ve killed it. A law school degree? You won’t ever practice unless it’s from a jail cell!”

  Braydon starts to laugh, and his father joins in. “What law degree?”

  My eyes pop wider, my head bobbing back and forth between father and son. “I don’t understand?”

  Braydon starts first, filling in the blanks. “No law degree, just a genius at hacking a system. It was simple. All I had to do was hack into Matthews and Associates server and create my profile. Make it appear like Braydon Connor went through the interviewing process and was set to start. No one even batted an eye on my first day.”

  “How were you able to complete your cases? You knew what you were talking about—”

  Braydon, or whoever he is, shrugs with ease. “Before you came along, I’d been sleeping with Christine on my team. Seems all it takes to have someone else do your workload is a cheap dinner and sex.” He realizes what he confesses and leaps at me, bending down on one knee, pressing his face within inches of mine. “But understand, this was before you came along. I was supposed to set you up. But I couldn’t. You were just so perfect. So, I changed routes and set him up.”

  My foggy head can’t comprehend the insanity he’s feeding me. I can’t grasp what he’s confessing. Panic resonates deep in my chest, and I start to hyperventilate. My heart thumps like a steel drum, my pulse throbbing in my ears. I attempt to scream, but only end up choking on my own breath. Pain shoots from my side, and I howl in anguish. Whatever sort of bandage Braydon put there dislodges from my wound, and I feel the open air saturate the cut, blood dripping down my side.

  I need to calm down or my own primal fear will kill me before this injury will. A few staggered breaths, and I turn my focus on Braydon. “Listen…” I cough. “Just let me go. Please. I know you don’t want to hurt me—”

  “You foolish girl. How do you think this ends? My son falling for your sweet, innocent girl act and you living to see tomorrow?” He throws his head back, a sadistic laugh barreling up his throat. “My son may be smart in some aspects, but when it comes to women, not so much. He has a tendency to let his weak little heart overrun his logic. As much as I find it cute, you’re not going anywhere.” He turns to his son. “Now, say your goodbyes and finish what you started. I’m too close to being done with this nonsense.” Without another word, he walks to the kitchen, stepping over Clara as if she’s nothing, and exits out the back door. I search for a reassuring sign in Braydon’s eyes, but they suddenly seem void of emotion. As if something in him snaps, he turns a switch. He nods to himself, no longer acknowledging me, and starts to move around the house, knocking things over, searching for something.

  “Braydon, wha—what are you doing?”

  He doesn’t bother answering me and walks through the kitchen, leaving out the same door as his father. The second I hear the backdoor slam against its hinges, it’s fight or flight. If I don’t try to move now, I’m as good as dead. My adrenaline kicks into overdrive, and I fight through the pain. Pushing my limp body off the ground, I jam my foot into the carpet and stand in a sprinting formation, only to lose my breath. I fall sideways into the couch, a guttural sound I don’t recognize as my own vibrating my eardrums.

  I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I’m going to die here.

  Blackness surrounds me, and I’m close to passing out. You’re a fighter, Hannah. Push through it. Time ticks in slow motion, and images of my family come into view. I swear I see Kipley in the distance, hear Levi begging me not to give up. I see my mother’s face smiling at me, and my dad’s proud smile giving me the fuel I need. Hope blooms inside me. With another rough intake of breath, I get myself on two feet, pushing through the pain. Each foot is like lead as I force my legs to move. Three feet, two feet, one—

  Rough hands wrap around my neck, fingers lacing in my hair. Braydon’s grip is vicious as he wrenches me back. My scream is wild with desperation as my body slams into the coffee table. The collision knocks the air out of my lungs. The stabbing in my side blinds me. I blink away the blackness, fearing I’m about to pass out. If I do, I’m dead.

  “Braydon…you don’t have to do this…” I cry. Warmth soaks my cheek, and I fear I’m bleeding from where my head hit the corner of the table. I’m scared. I don’t want to die, but I’m drained of all hope this is going to end any other way. My tears of despair spill over and soak my face, the saltiness mixing with blood from my wounds. I want to urge myself to continue to fight, but my body is too broken. Braydon continues to walk around the living room. It’s not until I smell the fumes, I re
alize what he’s doing.

  “No...no, no, no... please, God no!” My vocal chords burn as I begin to sob. The retched stench of gasoline fills the room. Braydon’s holding a gas can, soaking the furniture.

  He’s going to set the house on fire.

  I’m going to burn to death.

  “Hannah, understand. I wouldn’t choose this for you. But it’s not going to work out. And if I can’t have you, I’m certainly not going to let him.” He tosses the gas can, followed by the cruel sound of a lighter flickering. “Plus, now you know too much.”

  Levi

  It takes pointing out someone is a killer to get anyone to take us seriously. Officer Douchebag gets on his radio, calling into the station. I hear the muffled words of missing girl, possible murder, out of jurisdiction. Regardless of my fight to stay positive, my mind is at war, battling away the negative thoughts. She’s been missing since last night. She’s in the hands of a killer. She could already be dead.

  This is my fault.

  I should have done more to push my theories. Gone to Jim when I first had an inkling of uncertainty about Braydon. Or should I use his real name, Connor Miller—Benjamin Miller’s son. A criminal’s son, placed in Matthews and Associates to sabotage our case. Jim takes call after call from the office, HR, legal, searching for how this could have happened. How did Braydon—Connor—find a job inside the law firm?

  It takes a simple Google search to learn he’s no more than a high school dropout, still being cradled under his daddy’s wing. The prodigal son notorious for doing his father’s dirty work. Furthermore, an FBI agent shows up and informs us Miller Industries has been under investigation for years, way before the Crete incident. It’s a shock his botched project even made it off the production floor before being shut down by the feds.

  Anger simmers through my veins. This could have been avoided. People didn’t have to die if certain people had been doing their jobs. My mind takes another dark turn as Connor’s comment from the bathroom the other night comes to par.

  “Once you’re out of the way, I’m taking your place. Get a taste of the sweet Hannah Matthews.”

  His comment is the match that sets fire to the gasoline that’s been poured over my patience and emotions.

  “Why the fuck hasn’t anyone gotten to Clara Hill’s house? It’s been almost two fucking hours!” I snap at the closest officer near to me. A detective steps up to me, holding a pad of paper. He introduces himself as Detective Shaw. “It seems her phone is or has been disconnected. We’re working on getting a local officer to make a wellness call, but it’s not that easy when the town is small staffed. The only working officer out there right now is on a traffic call. Once he’s done—”

  “Fuck this.” I give him my back and storm toward Kipley’s Tahoe.

  “Levi, where’re you going?” Kip calls from behind me.

  “I’m not waiting. I’m going to Clara’s.”

  “Levi, wait—” He grabs for my shoulder, but I throw his hand off me, whipping around. I can no longer hide the horror in my eyes when I stare at my best friend, fearing the worst has happened to his little sister and it’s all my fault.

  “I can’t wait. I need to do something. She came after me…I should have known she would. She would have never allowed me to leave the bar like that. And I know that! If I would have just waited, we could have talked it out. I could have at least taken her home. Sent her back—”

  “Jesus man, stop!” Kipley wraps his hands around my shoulders and shakes me. “This is not your fault. This is that little psycho fucker’s fault. And we don’t even know that’s what happened. Have faith, man.”

  I want to have faith. I want to bask in the idea that she’s safe somewhere being the Hannah we all know, reckless and annoying. That she’ll pop out wherever, her hair in disarray, her face flushed with understanding that she’s in trouble.

  “Kip—”

  “I get it. She’s my sister. I love her too. Let’s go. I’m driving.” I stare at Kip for a quick second, then nod, slamming back on my heel as we both race to his car.

  “Where you boys going?” Jim calls from a few feet away, pulling his phone from his ear.

  “Clara Hill’s. If they won’t do something, we’re going to,” I say. Jim takes in my words. Strong with devotion. I hold his gaze long enough for him to understand. I would do anything for his daughter. He nods once, and I take that as his approval.

  The forty-five-minute drive is quiet. There’s nothing to say that will eliminate the miles between us and Hannah or make the drive go by faster. God, please be there and be safe. The silence only encourages my mind to stir up more memories.

  “Hey, Levi?”

  Hannah calls my name. I’m half asleep with her naked and snuggled up next to me. She rests on my chest while I play with her wild hair. “Yeah, babe?”

  “When we were kids…well, when I was a kid I guess, since you were always an adult to me, did you ever…ever…notice me?”

  Her body stiffens. I give her credit for her bold question. I’m sure she feels the gentle rumbling of my chest. “Never mind, stupid question. I was terribly—”

  “Remember your junior year? You wanted to go to the dance so bad, but you weren’t asked?” Her body deflates against mine. A deep breath fans over my chest. “Okay, not what I thought you would bring up. Don’t remind me what a loser—”

  “I was home visiting from law school and Kip and I had made plans to head down south to catch that NFL game. Tickets cost me a fortune. I had to get two credit cards to pay for them.”

  “But I thought you guys didn’t end up going to the game. It was rained out or something?”

  I pull my fingers through her hair, loving the way her chestnut locks fall against her bare back in waves. “It wasn’t.”

  Hannah lifts her head, her eyes finding mine. “I don’t understand…”

  “I may not be a Matthews, but I always felt at home there. When I got back, I came straight to your house. It was my sanctuary too. I never said it, but I got homesick a lot when I was away at law school. I missed family poker night and your mom’s meatloaf. Missed the chaos of your home and…well, other things.” She keeps eye contact with me the whole time I babble, but there’s that twinkle, wanting me to get to the point. “Anywho…when I walked down the hallway to surprise Kip, I passed your bedroom. The door was slightly open, and I heard you crying. I didn’t want to impose, but it still didn’t stop me from standing by your door longer than appropriate listening to you cry and wishing beyond anything I could make it better.”

  She grunts, her head falling back onto my chest. “God, how embarrassing. I think I cried so much, my eyes looked like two bee stings. And you and Kipley were forced to endure my presence all night and hang out with me since you guys didn’t go to the game.”

  I lock my fingers back into her hair, brushing it away and teasing the lining of her neck. “Our team won twenty-seven to seven that night.”

  That grabs her attention. Her head arches up at me. “What do you…I thought…”

  “Kipley told me why you were so upset. You deserved to go to that dance as much as any girl in your school. And for some reason, seeing you so upset did something to me. I hated it. I almost went and beat up every single loser in your school for not thinking to ask you.”

  “What are you saying? You guys didn’t go to the game ’cause I was upset?”

  “I wanted to go to that game. God, did I. But not as much as I wanted to replace those tears with laughter.” I love the way her eyes shine, wide like an owl. It makes me chuckle.

  “Why are you telling me this now?”

  “Because you asked if I ever noticed you when we were younger. And the answer is, in some strange way, I guess I did. It’s funny how we view things at certain ages and when we get older, those views start to change. Shift in a way. I can’t say I saw you the way I see you now, but I saw you. I saw how resilient you were. Tough skin, soft heart. Maybe I should’ve noticed the shit
everyone put you through more. But what I saw from afar was a girl in an iron suit, without fear, ready to take on the world. You let everything roll off you and went on your way. I saw you as a girl who purposely took the hard road because you wanted to prove to everyone you could do it. Which you did. I mean, you did claim your spot as the first lady president at age seven.”

  Her body shakes with laughter. She tries to be smooth about it, but I see her swipe away a stray tear. She’s on the move, her body straddling mine, and I love every bit of it. Of her. “Thank you,” is all she says, leaning forward and pressing her warm lips to mine. “Thank you for noticing me.”

  She doesn’t say anything more. She’s fighting not to show the emotion brewing inside her. I change the subject, giving her the pass she desperately wants. “How about we order that pizza I promised you before I confess too much and give you too big of an ego?”

  She slaps my chest, but grants me the ultimate reward: more of her sweet mouth.

  My heart constricts, wanting her to be here now so I can confess every single time I’ve noticed her. Wanted her. The moment I began to love her. Why didn’t I tell her then? I knew I was in love with her. And now…what if she’ll never know?