by Cora Brent
She gazes out the window at the peaceful water. “I know.”
Cassini Brewery is decked out in absurd finery tonight. String lights are wrapped around every light pole and layered across the roof. Tall potted topiaries stand at attention across the length of the building. There’s even a narrow red carpet, unfurled like a tongue and already trampled by a hundred of Liam’s closest friends, most of them likely visiting from the city to pay homage to Lake Stuart royalty.
Well, King Liam, here we come.
Ready to storm the ever loving shit out of your castle.
Gretchen laces her fingers through mine and we walk through the open doors into a sea of well dressed backs. Nobody spares us a glance. All heads are turned to Liam as he stands atop the bar in the middle of a speech.
“Enjoy the food, friends. Enjoy the drinks. Be jealous that the stunning creature standing at my feet is going home with me. I love you, Whit, and thanks for making this night happen. You are my queen. Cheers and good health to all.”
Murmurs and muted clapping ripple across the crowd. Liam hops off the bar and his wife captures him in a laughing embrace. They kiss with grotesque passion and he wraps a possessive arm around her slim waist. He’s wearing the sloppy, slightly out of focus look of a man whose brain is already soaked in too much alcohol.
Gretchen grips my hand harder and starts pulling me toward the bar. She’s impatient, unwilling to wait for Liam to get around to noticing our arrival.
“I need to talk to you, Liam!”
Her loud demand pauses some conversations. She’s repeating Jules’s words on purpose.
Whitney shoots Gretchen a rather sour look that changes to confusion when she notices me at Gretchen’s side.
Liam stares at us, annoyed at the interruption, but only slightly. After all, we are no threat to him.
“Didn’t think you were coming,” he says and then louder, to no one in particular, “This is my kid brother, folks.”
Whitney’s eyes linger on me. “Good to see you again, Trent. I was just telling Liam we should invite you to join us when we visit the Hamptons next weekend.” She doesn’t give Gretchen a second glance.
I don’t feel compelled to play nice right now. “Lady, I’d rather drink a puddle of acid than spend thirty seconds being entertained by the two of you.”
Whitney ’s mouth falls open. She’s not to blame for her husband but I’ve exhausted my ration of politeness so fuck it.
Liam sobers up a little and his irritation kicks up a notch. “Know what, Trent? Maybe this is not the night for you to start playing with the grown ups.”
I step up and meet him face to face. I’m taller and I enjoy the way he needs to look up to me. “We’re going to have a chat in Dad’s office. Unless you’d prefer to be eviscerated in front of all your A-list buddies.”
He’s not alarmed, not yet. But he’s also not quite sure if I’m bluffing or not.
With Gretchen’s hand still in mine, we scale the staircase. I’m sure she’s thinking of Jules, young and pregnant, here in the same place, making the same climb. So am I.
By now Liam is in a hurry to find out what kind of trouble we intend to cause. He’s breathless when he joins us a minute later.
“What the hell?” He angrily shuts the door, his mask of civility already gone.
Gretchen seethes, ready to get to the point. “Let him hear it, Trent.”
I pull up the file on my phone and press play.
“Hello. It’s me, Julianne Aaronson…”
Liam parks himself on the corner of his desk and laughs. “You came barging in here just to deliver a voice from the grave?”
Gretchen circles him and my muscles tense, ready to jump into action and knock him down if he makes the slightest threatening move.
In the background, Jules keeps telling her story.
“You’re coming along for the ride so buckle up.”
Gretchen moves to the window. The town lights wink back, the lake lost somewhere in the inky blackness, out of sight from this distance once the sun goes down. The moon hangs low and full in the sky.
“My sister was the most incredible person,” Gretchen says to the moon. “She had so much love that she gave up her own dreams for what was left of her family. And the three of us – me and Jules and Danny - remained a family because of her. Then I saw her become a mother and it was like she’d stepped into the role she was born for. I wish so badly that she could have found someone to love her the way she deserved but Jules had no regrets. The twins became the loves of her life.”
“The baby is yours and I’m having it.”
If Liam possessed a heart, he would be on the floor right now, sobbing, pleading to be forgiven as the sound of his self serving cruelty fills the room.
“No one will know you’re the father.”
Instead of cowering with deep shame, he appears to be only vaguely nervous. He looks down at his hands as he twists his wedding ring.
Gretchen turns away from the window and confronts him with those fierce Aaronson green eyes. “You won’t get near the twins. You’ll never hurt them. And you’ll never dare to utter one more threatening word about their future. They are loved. They are treasured. They are not playthings to be used to your advantage, you fucking bastard. They are ours.”
Liam quits twisting his wedding ring. “Careful, little girl. A paternity test is easy to arrange.”
She shakes her head. “You won’t be doing that.”
He crosses his arms and appraises her more carefully. “Trent, you really ought to pipe up and inform your girl that she’s out of her depth.”
“Pay attention, Liam.” I increase the volume to make sure he can hear what’s coming. “This is a pretty important part.”
He huffs and scowls and hops off his desk. “Enough of this bullshit.”
But he’s stopped by the sound of his own words.
“Nothing sucks cock as eagerly as a sixteen-year-old cheerleader.”
His arms go limp. The color drains from his face. He makes a pointless lunge for the phone in my hands but I have no difficulty keeping it out of his reach.
“Don’t hurt yourself,” I taunt him. “You think I haven’t already copied this in six different places?”
Gretchen slips to my side. “Liam, I didn’t finish law school but I was made aware that there is a legal term for the crime you describe. It’s called statutory rape.”
“That doesn’t prove jack shit,” he says but the queasiness is all over his face.
“Are you sure? If you listen to the entirety of the recording, you admit to soliciting underage girls for sex. These days, such accusations are not taken lightly.”
The recording ends. Jules has accomplished exactly what she needed to do.
I store my phone in my back pocket and put my arm around Gretchen. “Once we turn this over to the Lake Stuart PD and they begin asking around, it’s probably only a matter of time before someone steps forward. From the way you were talking, there’s got to be more than one victim.”
“Not to mention the fact that there’s a big question mark surrounding consent when Jules admitted to being drunk,” Gretchen points out. “All your friends downstairs won’t be toasting to your good health anymore once word gets out.” She enjoys marching forward to deliver the final blow. “You’re finished. I wanted you to know that you have my sister to thank.”
The look he sends her way is lethal. But when he attacks, I’m ready for him.
Liam makes a grab for Gretchen’s throat but I’ve got him in a headlock before he even gets close. He grunts and swings his haphazard fists at my ribs while I ignore the blows and laugh at him. The balance of power has shifted since the last time he tried this tactic.
I could kill him. I could kill him so fucking easily.
My grip around his neck tightens. He struggles and chokes and the desperate hiss of his gasps make me smile.
“Trent.” Gretchen pleads from six feet away, calling me back to her.
“Trent!”
I release Liam and he frantically gulps air as he kneels on the floor.
When he’s able to look up, he stares straight into his wife’s horrified face.
“Baby,” he croaks, trying to crawl to the doorway where she stands with a wine glass in her hand.
The wine glass shatters on the floor. Her red fingernails claw senselessly at the neckline of her gown and she sways inside pointy silver heels. I don’t know if she has heard everything, but she has definitely heard enough.
“You have children,” she whispers.
“No,” he says.
She drops her arms and screams. “YOU HAVE CHILDREN!”
Liam struggles to his feet. “Sweetheart, don’t…”
She recoils from him. Then changes her mind and rakes his left cheek with her nails.
Whitney stumbles over to me, seizes the folds of my shirt in her fists. “Who is she? WHO?”
Gretchen gently unhooks Whitney’s fingers from my shirt and says, not unkindly, “She was my sister. Julianne Aaronson. She died in a car accident in February, leaving behind twin four-year-old girls.”
Whitney shakes. “And it’s true? He’s their father?”
“Yes, it’s true.”
Liam’s wife does not accuse us or shriek that we are liars. Part of her must be aware of what kind of man she’s married to.
He tries to stagger over to her again, repeating her name and holding his pleading arms out. She pushes him away.
“No,” she sobs, and flees the room. Her voice echoes from the stairwell. “Everyone needs to leave! I’m sorry but everyone needs to leave right now!”
Instant confusion reigns downstairs. Sounds and voices blend together.
Meanwhile, up here, there’s eerie calm in the aftermath.
Judgment has been passed in a matter of moments. Liam has lost a lot and he will lose a lot more.
Still, I don’t take my eyes off him. Dangerous men are at their worst in desperate moments. I keep Gretchen behind my back as we move with caution toward the exit, sweeping aside bits of broken glass.
Liam himself has taken a seat on the floor, his back propped against his broad desk, his legs splayed out in a daze.
Just when I think he’s forgotten we are in the room, he raises his head, finds me, and smiles.
“Remember what I told you, Trent,” he says and breaks into hideous laughter that might be on the other side of sanity.
“Go,” I whisper to Gretchen, ushering her into the hall while keeping an eye on Liam in case he makes a grab for a weapon.
He stays where he is, laughing like a fool at the mess he’s made.
Within seconds, we’re down the stairs and joining the crush of guests spilling into the parking lot. There’s a lot of gesturing and petulance and some looks of pity thrown at Whitney Cassini, who wails beside a topiary while being comforted by two of her friends. They escort her to a black Escalade and shoo her inside.
There’s a bad feeling crawling up my spine and I’d rather not stop to examine where it comes from.
I need to get Gretch away from here right fucking now.
She’s startled when I lift her up and deposit her in the passenger seat of the minivan but conversation can wait. We need to go. I’m not shy about cutting people off and leaning on the horn as I navigate the way out of here.
Gretchen lays a hand on my arm. “It’s over.” She sounds unsure.
I’m also unsure.
The rearview mirror is filled with the gaudy Cassini Brewery sign. I’d prefer to never see it again. All I want to do is put more distance between us and Liam.
We’ve traveled roughly a mile when the sky behind us ignites.
Gretchen screams.
The impact of a follow up explosion rattles the steering wheel in my hands. The car in front of me breaks hard and I veer off to the shoulder of the road to avoid a collision.
“I would take it apart and burn the pieces before you get your trashy hands on it.”
Gretch clutches my arm and tries twisting around to see out the back window. “What the hell happened?”
But I’m not confused. I think on some level I saw it coming. The emergency sirens will begin howling any second.
“It’s the brewery, honey. He set the goddamn brewery on fire.”
17
Gretchen
He changed his mind at the last second and tried to escape.
Or maybe he never had any intention of dying at all and was only carrying out his threat in a fit of fury.
In any case, he was running out the door when the first explosion hit. Two witnesses who were close enough to suffer minor burns but no other harm saw the force of the blast lift him at least fifteen feet in the air before casually discarding his body on the concrete. By the time anyone reached him, Liam Cassini’s clothes had melted into his skin.
The burns over seventy percent of his body would have been critical enough but the damage to his lungs is irreparable. We hear his wife’s sobbing escalate when she is told he will probably not last through the night.
“Should we leave?” Danny asks quietly as we sit in uncomfortable hospital chairs and listen to Whitney cry.
He drove up from the city after his game to pay us a quick surprise visit and was greeted with pandemonium, arriving in Lake Stuart shortly after the explosion. The brewery fire was so intense that engines have been called in from five surrounding towns to battle the blaze. The news crews haven’t even been able to get close.
The screens on the wall across from our seats are tuned to a local channel and an attractive brunette newscaster reports confidently from a safe distance away from the fire. “Tonight’s catastrophic blaze at Cassini Brewery, a local landmark here in Lake Stuart, remains dangerous due to the flammable nature of the materials stored on site. First response crews continue to exercise caution and residents are urged to keep their distance. A party at the brewery had fortunately just ended. Minor injuries were reported and one man is in critical condition. The cause of the fire is suspicious.”
The fire could be seen from everywhere in town. Barbara Bianco texted earlier to make sure we were safe. I assured her we’re fine but might be delayed in retrieving the girls. She replied that we shouldn’t worry. The girls have been comfortably asleep on the sofa bed with Buttons since we left.
I’d rather not stay in this hospital for another minute. The stench of smoke clings thickly to my clothes. I want to pick up our girls and go home, leaving Liam Cassini on his own to battle the demons that are surely coming for him. Yet I hesitate to suggest leaving if Trent would prefer to stay.
“Soon,” Trent says in answer to Danny’s question. “Let’s leave soon.”
My brother observes the way I lean against his best friend’s shoulder and continues to watch as Trent wraps one arm around me. Danny doesn’t seem bothered. He grins and looks away.
We had to tell him about Jules and Liam Cassini. Trent offered to play the audio recording but Danny shook his head, saying the summary was more than enough.
“How was your game tonight?” I ask him because I haven’t had a chance to look up the sports news.
“A single, a walk and a three run homer,” he says. “We won with a score of five to three.”
“You have to fly out tomorrow?”
“Yeah. I’ve got an evening flight back to Arizona.”
Trent heaves out a breath and gets heavily to his feet. “Know what? There’s nothing to be gained by sticking around. Let’s get out of here.”
“Happy to.” I let him pull me up and lean in for a kiss.
The nearby clacking sound of heels on tile steals me away from Trent when I’m met with the sight of an inconsolable Whitney Cassini.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her I’m sorry even if it is a lie and I’m not sorry at all that Liam Cassini is dying. He has caused tremendous pain to people I love and he deserves all the pain coming his way.
Whitney’s makeup is smeared all over
her cheeks. I would think she’d be more interested in speaking to Trent but her direct gaze is reserved for me. “I didn’t catch your first name.”
“Gretchen. Gretchen Aaronson.”
She looks down at the toes of her shoes. “He doesn’t have long.”
“I heard.”
“He’s lost the ability to speak but the breathing tube was removed long enough for him to whisper.”
I’m not sure what she’s getting at.
Whitney raises her head again. “He wants to see the twins.”
“No.”
Whitney ’s face cracks into desperation. “Please. It would just be for a minute.”
“NO!”
I turn and walk rapidly down the corridor but I don’t get far before Whitney catches up to me and grabs my arm.
“He’s going to die. He’s no threat to you or to them.”
I don’t shake her off because I do feel some sympathy for her. The news that her husband secretly fathered two little girls came as a complete shock. Plus, she’s hours away from becoming a widow.
I look past her to Danny and Trent. Neither one of them have moved as they watch the scene play out between me and Liam Cassini’s wife.
Whitney takes her hand from my arm and waits in a haze of misery as she hopes I’ll grant her husband’s dying request.
“The girls are four years old,” I explain in a calm tone that I hope is sympathetic because none of this Whitney’s fault. “I have to think of them first and what it would do to them, especially so soon after losing their mother.”
She nods. She’s not completely unreasonable. But her voice breaks when she points out, “This will be the only chance any of them get, Gretchen.”
Again, I look for Trent. His face is grim but he offers me no hint what he thinks of his brother’s request. Clearly he believes the decision is not his to make.
I shift my gaze to my brother. “What should we do, Danny?”
My brother is at a loss. “You know the twins better than anyone else. This is your call, Gretch.”
“Jules gave you equal say when it comes to the girls. That means it’s our call, Daniel. Help me make it.”