The Barrett Brothers Collection

by K B Cinder

  I held up my hands. “Look, ma’am. I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I didn’t break anyone’s heart. Especially Elena’s.”

  She sneered, yellow teeth poking through. “Girls don’t up and leave like that without a broken heart, you fool.”

  “Why do you keep saying that? What do you mean leave?” I demanded.

  Just like that, she exploded, her hands flying above her head, arms jiggling. “Are you dumb, boy? She moved. Left. Skedaddled.”

  “Where did she go?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “Hell if I know. Far away from you.”

  “You don’t even know me!” I shot back.

  She chuckled, pulling a cigarette from behind her ear and lighting it. “I may be old, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t spot a dumbass.”

  “Seriously?” I roared, ignoring the insult. “Where is she?”

  She puffed out a haze of smoke. “I don’t know.”

  “So, a bunch of guys come by, grab her shit, and you don’t ask questions?” I ground out, enraged.

  “Ain’t my place to, and it ain’t yours neither!” she shot back. “Now fuck off! Your knocking is interrupting my shows!” She disappeared into her apartment and slammed the door, leaving me dumbfounded.

  I stared at Elena’s door in disbelief. She couldn’t be gone. Where would she go? Lee’s? Her dad’s?

  I rushed downstairs, launching into the parking lot. I scanned for a sign of the leasing office and hurried over, startling the middle-aged woman at the desk.

  “Excuse me. Can you please tell me about the tenant in apartment 31B? I went to check on her, and her neighbor told me she moved?”

  She shook her head, her green eyes wide in terror from my abrupt entry. “I’m sorry, sir. We don’t disclose information about our residents.”

  I sighed. “Look, it’s a wellness check. I’m sorry to be so forward, but I’m worried about her. Please.”

  She bit her lip, eyeing me carefully. “She’s no longer there.”

  “For the week or...?” I trailed.

  “Permanently. Her stuff was moved out about an hour ago. Kind of sudden, honestly.”

  “Do you know anything about where she went?” I asked, nausea creeping in.

  “No, sir. A couple of guys came and were up there about an hour before they dropped the keys off with a letter.”

  My hands flew to my head, the movement making her flinch. “Fuck.”

  She cringed, looking scared out of her mind. “I'm sorry, sir. It's all I know.”

  “I’m sorry,” I breathed, trying to calm down. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  She turned her attention back to her computer, more than ready to see me gone. “You're welcome.”

  I turned on my heel and stalked out to my car, plotting my next move.

  She had no family in the city. Only her father up in Vermont. I doubted she'd head all the way up there, especially with work. That left Lee.

  A quick internet search gave me her address, and I was on my way, speeding like hell across town. As I pulled into the subdivision, my eyes scanned the streets for any sign of Elena's car. I was in a frenzy.

  I rolled to a stop in front of the modest colonial, dread settling in when Elena's car was nowhere to be found. Christmas lights twinkled across the gutters despite it being daylight, an inflatable Santa flopping in the wind as sleet slapped his face.

  I ran to the door, knocking as savagely as I had at the complex. Unlike Elena's apartment, there was noise on the other side of the door. A dog was barking. Someone was shouting. A television was blaring.

  The door yanked open to reveal Lee eyes bugging out of her head at the sight of me, bolt cutters in hand. It surprised me that she was home, given that it was a workday, but that offered hope that Elena was inside.

  “You motherfucker! Are you out of your mind? Do you really want those balls smashed and fed to you?” she roared.

  Ah. The threat on my phone was from Lee, not Justin. Not that I was relieved. She was a hell of a lot scarier than that runt would ever be. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me, dickhead!” she hissed, nostrils flaring.

  I sighed. Why did everyone want to beat my face in? All I did was date a woman for Christ’s sake. “Look, I don't know why you want to kill me, but I'm looking for Elena.”

  “Stay the hell away from her, you pig!”

  “Why are you being like this?” I asked.

  She laughed, shaking her head. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “Why are you acting like a lunatic? Don't you want your friend to be happy?”

  “Yes! So stay the hell away from her!” she screeched.

  All the racket drew the attention of another inhabitant, a burly man appearing. “Is there a problem?” he asked, placing his hand in the small of Lee's back.

  “Yeah, this fucking asshole showed up!”

  He craned his neck to get a look at me. “He's the one?”

  She crossed her arms, her nose in the air, the bolt cutters holding my gaze. “Yeah.”

  The man cleared his throat. “Look, buddy, you need to leave.”

  “I don't need to do anything. Where is Elena?” I had enough of the damn stonewalling. I just wanted to talk to her. Everything would be fine once we spoke.

  “You're on my property, so you need to leave.”

  “Where is she? What is going on?” I demanded, desperate for something. They could at least tell me why everyone wanted my damn head on a stake.

  Lee scoffed, my words igniting a rage I had never seen before. “Really? You filthy fucking pig!”

  “Seriously, overkill, much? Like you haven't dated someone at work before?” I challenged.

  “Not while married!” she spat.

  I cocked my head at her. “What?”

  “I would never date someone while married, you pig!” she hollered, lurching forward and waving the bolt cutters before being pulled back by the man, a hand around her upper arm. “I’ll take what little manhood you have left, asshole!”

  Married? What the fuck was she talking about? “I'm not married.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, sure.”

  “I'm not.”

  Her jaw clenched as she eyed me over. “You can't deny it. We all saw the paperwork, idiot.”

  “What paperwork? Who saw what?” I asked.

  “The paperwork that skank handed out in a little packet with pictures of you macking on my best friend.”

  I rubbed between my eyebrows, frustrated to hell and back. I just wanted to see Elena. I was tired of playing fifty questions. “What paper? What packet?”

  “Your employment papers. You're checked as married, you idiot.”

  “I've been divorced for four years,” I replied, shaking my head. “What is going on?”

  “Yeah, sure, buddy.”

  I ignored her words, ready to figure out the mess for myself. If she wouldn’t help me, I’d have to find Elena on my own.“Whatever. Where did you get this packet? Do you have a copy?”

  “No! I threw it away. Along with every other one I could rip out of people's hands.”

  “People's?” I repeated. As in more than one?

  “Yeah. Monica handed them out like newsletters in the office.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” I roared. No one had a right to see us like that. No one had a right to see my private documents from God knows how long ago.

  The man stepped slightly in front of Lee at my outburst, but she still kept her eyes locked on me, hatred burning. “Yep. You're busted as a cheat, and my best friend is devastated.”

  I sighed. “Lee, I'm divorced. I can pull out the decree to prove it.”

  She eyed me suspiciously. “Oh, from what? Like Friday?”

  “No, from four fucking years ago. Do you want me to call my ex-wife? Would you like to talk to her?” I challenged. I didn't want to call her, but I would if need be. “Her name is Bianca. Bianca Barrett. It used to be Ambrosio, but she’s reluctant to give u
p my name. Turns out BB is a cute nickname for the cam shows she hosts.”

  Elena was my everything. Not telling her about Bianca wasn’t the brightest move, but it wasn’t like I purposely kept it a secret. I barely thought of the woman that pushed me over the edge anymore with Elena by my side.

  Bianca would always be a colossal mistake. It wasn’t every day you found out your wife fucked two of your friends. Or that she lied about infertility, pocketing money for treatments to run off with another man. But that was the reality she delivered via phone call, the betrayal too much after months of trying to keep her happy, fighting for a love I never had. After isolating myself from everyone but her to make it work, I finally realized it never would, a truth that was my undoing.

  I couldn’t stand one second of Elena thinking I betrayed her like that. I didn’t even get a chance to explain myself. Someone else rewrote history, leaving out the part where I got divorced and started a new life.

  I hadn’t hated many people in my years, not even Bianca, but I hated Monica. I hated her for causing the woman I loved pain. I hated her for manipulating others out of amusement like some game.

  I could hear Nana deep inside, shouting at me to not give in to the anger, the hatred. It was the same thing she told me when the incubator took off, abandoning us like we weren’t a goddamn thing to her. She begged me not to hate her, to understand that Mama was broken, but I hated that goddamn woman, and I hated Monica the same.

  Especially as Lee slammed the door in my face.

  Elena

  I made it to I-88 without issue, traveling passed Schenectady and avoiding traffic despite the weather. I was glad I sucked it up and put new tires on the car in early summer, as the bald ones I clung to before would have left me in a ditch already. As much as dropping a few hundred dollars on rubber sucked, skidding off the road and wrecking my car would suck a lot more.

  The lack of traffic was nice yet unnerving, most motorists pulling into rest stops to wait out the storm while others trudged along, their hazards flashing through the wintry mess. From the radio, I knew a state of emergency was issued, over a foot of snow expected to follow the heavy slush. It was all the more reason to keep moving. If I stayed put, I wouldn’t get to Dad’s for days, as snowplows were few and far between on the isolated stretches ahead.

  US-7 was where the real fun began, Hank awakening from a nap and yowling at every possible pitch. He had a one-man concert, playing every role in a cat choir, going from sad kitty to Satan in a flash.

  Naturally, I sang to calm him, making up lovey-dovey lyrics to the tune of every lullaby I could think of. Unfortunately, he didn’t appreciate my renditions of Hush Little Hankie and Hankie, Hankie Little Cat, practically screaming in horror the more I went on.

  After another hour, my phone joined the party, ringing and chiming as Hank continued, the only vocalist left in our short-lived musical duo. I could tell by the ringer it was Jason, so I didn't pull over to answer. Obviously, he landed, stepping right into the eye of the humiliating hurricane I left in the dust.

  As far as I was concerned, he could take whatever he had to say and shove it. Maybe all those out-of-town trips were visits to Florida where he slept with her too. It was gross enough for me to book an appointment for testing ASAP at the only gynecologist in town, the same one I had as a teenager. Lee was right as usual; I did risk itchy burny cooter disease with him. Nothing was out of sorts down there, but I wasn’t taking any chances.

  Once I stopped for gas and checked my phone somewhere on US-7, there were 30 missed calls, 50 unread texts, and 36 notifications from Privately-all from Jason. While the tank filled, I uninstalled the app and deleted his texts in a batch, not willing to entertain his excuses. I turned the phone off for good measure, knowing he would drain my battery with the bombardment. I needed it to last heading into the Vermont wilderness. I still had a few hours ahead, and a dead phone wouldn’t do me any good if I got stranded.

  Unfortunately, conditions deteriorated rapidly as I headed north, so the risk of running off the road became a real possibility, new tires or not. The sleet was relentless, mixing with fat snowflakes my windshield wipers could barely keep up with.

  As the hours ticked by, I kept any lingering sadness at bay by brainstorming jobs, places to live, and future goals. I’d have something in no time. I handed out plenty of resumes at NorCon. Calls were sure to trickle in. Once I had a job down, I’d look at apartments in town, and go from there.

  Maybe I’d take a girls’ trip with Lee in the spring somewhere warm where your blood was more rum than plasma by the time you flew home. Jamaica. Antigua. Any island with sand, waves, and sun would do.

  After that, maybe I’d sign up for graduate school and earn my MBA. Screw it. Why stop there? Why not get a doctorate? Dr. Elena Julian had a ring to it.

  The new me would kick serious ass. I was done being lied to, betrayed, and left out in the cold. I was a woman on a mission. I would clear the wedding debt, start a career I loved, and take my life back.

  * * *

  As I parked in front of my childhood home, a familiar warmth crept to my cheeks. I never felt at home when I was away despite my best attempts. I decked out plenty of apartments and condos over the years but never managed to replicate the comfort of my father's cabin. It was nothing that would be featured on a trendy home-decor show, but it was everything to me.

  Dad raised me within the four pine walls, teaching more about life than any lecture hall or college degree had. It was my upbringing that forced me to be more practical and mindful of things.

  He was there through the awkward years, scraping together enough money to cover my braces when insurance wouldn't and put off replacing his tired Chevy to make sure I had my first car. He fought me like hell on getting it, hating anything that wasn't GM, but he still bought it for his little girl. He repainted it too and spent a fortune fixing it when it inevitably broke down. He did it all for me.

  I repaid him by moving to New York City for college, returning on holidays if it didn't interfere with my plans. I left him alone and literally out in the cold. Despite my selfishness, he welcomed me back each visit with open arms, offering love I didn’t deserve.

  Now I was back again, crawling home. It was pathetic. At seventy, my father should be leaning on me for support, not the other way around.

  He appeared in the doorway, still the old battle-ax I remembered, stepping out onto the porch. His salt and pepper hair was now a sheet of solid ash, his bushy beard following suit. Somehow he seemed to age decades since the last I saw him.

  I stepped out of the car and felt the crunch of gravel beneath my feet, the crisp mountain air stealing my first breaths. There was fresh powder on the ground, the surrounding forest a winter wonderland. Overhead, the sky was a haze of clouds, the dark gray haze of the storm visible despite being nighttime.

  Hank yowled as I plucked him from the backseat and padded toward the house, his carrier swinging as I balanced him and an overnight bag. As I ascended the steps, a tear escaped, a rush of emotions washing over.

  Dad pulled me into one of his infamous bear hugs, squeezing out any bit of worry left. It was amazing how one touch could melt away the tension that held me hostage since Monica's campaign of public humiliation began.

  “It'll be okay, honey.” He held me tighter, tucking my cheek into his chest. “You're home now.”

  I could never tell him what happened. The pain. The humiliation. The things I allowed to happen to me. I told him I had to stay for a while, and that was all he needed.

  “Come in out of the cold. A whopper of a storm is headed in.”

  I nodded and followed his orders, shuffling into the house as he held the rickety screen door.

  The inside was the same as I remembered, unchanged from my last visit. The wood-burning stove kept the cabin toasty; its crackle and pop forming a familiar backdrop. Pictures of Mom and I dotted the walls, smiling faces and milestones keeping him company when we were out of reach.
>
  I set Hank’s carrier down and turned to face my father, the only man who never let me down, a fresh wave of tears burning. “Dad-”

  “No need to talk, El,” he assured, stroking my head. “Hungry? I made a pot roast.”

  * * *

  Eating dinner with Dad stopped the tears. I situated Hank’s food and litter in the mudroom while Dad reheated everything, and we laughed between bites once it was ready.

  Afterward, I spent the first night crying in the loft, doing my best to stifle sobs in my pillow. Darkness rubbed salt in the wound, the full-size bed impossibly empty. Hank abandoned me, but Bruce appeared a little while later, and I hugged the shepherd all night, crying softly into his fur until I drifted off.

  I thought I was successful at concealing the sorrow when Dad didn’t bring it up over breakfast, but I found my tear-stained pillowcase replaced after my shower. He hadn’t prodded, giving me space to decompress. He was never an emotional man. I never saw him get anything more than misty-eyed. He spoke with such love and happiness about Mom, despite her death being the worst time of his life.

  I used him as motivation, allowing myself a slice of sadness before moving on. I cried for two days, and that was enough. I focused on finding the silver lining. I was in paradise with my father, finally able to enjoy an uninterrupted stretch of time together. I had a chance to start over, leaving behind the misery of the corporate world for a new leaf.

  Hank was similarly chipper about the situation, making himself at home. He lounged in the windows, swishing his tail at each feathered visitor. He had lush scenery to take in, the birds more appealing than concrete. Bruce joined in the festivities, and the two were apparently making plans for a bird massacre based on their vigilant watch.

  I checked in with Lee, who assured I was in the clear from Jason. He showed up at her place like a raving lunatic, only to be turned away by Lee wielding a pair of bolt cutters. As expected, he tried denying it all.

  He called dozens of times. He texted too. I didn’t read them. I couldn't. There was no point. I missed him. I missed us. I missed the late-night talks and ramblings. I worried about him, worried what could happen because I left, worried he’d do something crazy. But then I’d remember the lies. I’d remember the pain. I’d remember that I was a side piece. Maybe that was another lie.