by K. C. Crowne
I didn't believe in auras, but I did agree that I needed more positivity in my life.
"So, what are you going to do?" she asked.
"I know he's not right for me," I said. "I just haven't figured out quite what to do."
She drummed her long, spindly fingers against the table.
"How many times has he called you tonight?"
"No idea. I shoved my phone into the bottom of my purse. My girls' nights out are sacred."
"Pull it out?"
"What?"
"The phone. Pull it out. I wanna see how many missed calls you have."
"Ugh, fine."
As I unzipped my bag, I prayed there was none, but I knew that wouldn't be the case. Pulling out my phone and laying it on the table, I saw the green notification bar showing my missed calls.
"Only two," I said. "That's actually not too bad."
"It's not that good either," Ruby said. "Can't he just leave you alone?"
"Wow, you're the one who's supposed to be a total bleeding-heart hippie who loves everybody. I've never seen you hate anyone as much as him."
"I told you. He has a black aura. He's trouble."
"What is it with you and your auras?" I asked. “It’s hot in here, I’m going to step out and get some air.”
Ruby nodded and understood that I meant I was done with the conversation for the time being.
I headed outside, zipping up my coat and bracing for the wind. Summer had long gone and had been replaced by plummeting temperatures. As I stepped out the bar and looked out across the parking lot, I could see the tip of Renfrew Peak in the distance as the sun set behind it. Covered in a thick layer of snow, and reaching a perfect triangular point, it looked as though it belonged on a Christmas card.
Since I was a kid, I'd always dreamed of climbing to the summit. I'd done the trails around the bottom of course, and just about everyone from Station Springs had attempted to climb it at some point, but only a handful of people ever reached the top.
"I thought you'd be here," came a voice from behind me.
Recognizing it immediately, I took my time to turn around.
"Billy," I said, blowing out a stream of cold air.
"I've been calling you."
"And I've been busy. Can't you see I'm out?"
He lay a hand on my shoulder and I shrugged it off.
"I've been worried about you," he said. "You know what I get like when you don't pick up."
"Worried about what? I'm just out for a few beers with Ruby. Same as I do every Friday night."
“I don’t like you standing out here by yourself,” he said.
I rolled my eyes. “I’m on the sidewalk in the middle of town. What do you think is going to happen to me?” He stepped closer, ran his hands down my arms and leaned in for a kiss, but I wasn't in the mood to embrace him.
"Why did you turn up here?" I asked, stepping away. "Are you checking up on me?"
"No, I just hoped you were here. Like I said, I've been calling you and-"
"You don't get to just turn up here," I told him. "You don't need to know where I am all the time. What the fuck do you think I'm doing anyway?"
His eyes darkened as he frowned. He was a good foot taller than me, and as he leaned down, wrapping his hand around my wrist, I was aware of how much stronger he was than me.
"Would it have been so hard to pick up the fucking phone?" he seethed.
"Would it have been so damn hard to just leave me alone for five minutes?" I retorted, pulling myself free.
I turned and gave him one last disgusted look before striding back indoors. I hoped he'd take the hint and realize I didn't want to speak to him, but he never took the hint. He followed me inside, tugging at the back of my coat as I pushed my way through the doors.
"Megan, don't walk away from me."
"I can walk away from you all I want. You’re not my keeper."
As I stormed past the bar, Alan raised his eyebrows at us. At the back of the room, I saw Ruby, her eyes widening when she saw me bluster in with Billy in tow.
"What's he doing here?" she asked, jumping out of her seat.
"Guess who decided to just check up on me," I said, slumping back into my chair.
I dumped my coat and purse around me, making sure there was no room for him to sit down beside me.
"Hey, I can't help but be worried about you when you ignore my calls," he said, pushing my things out of the way, so he could sit up close. "How do you think it makes me feel when you ignore me?"
Ruby gave me a worried look. She was signaling something with her eyes, telling me to get out, get away from him. I darted my eyes toward the bar, hoping she'd understand what I meant.
"I'm just gonna get some more beers," she said. "Be back in a bit."
But as she approached Alan, she didn't take her eyes off us. I could see the two of them chatting, about Billy no doubt. From the look on Alan's face, it didn't take a genius to guess what he was thinking.
"I don't get it," I said to Billy. "Why have you got to be like this? What do you think's gonna happen to me if I don't see you? That I'll spontaneously combust or something?"
He took my hands in his and squeezed them.
"You know what I get like. I just get worried. Worried that... Look, you know what my ex did to me."
"Yes, but I’m not your ex. I have never cheated on you and therefore you have no right to be suspicious of me all the damn time," I said, yanking my hands away. "I'm not accountable to you. I don't have to tell you where I am. I'm a fucking adult and you're not my father."
He winced as though I'd physically hurt him. Again, his eyes darkened, and he leaned in closer to me.
"Billy, I didn't want to do it like this, but you don't really give me much choice."
"Choice about what?"
"About us. Look, I'm not gonna play games, I'll come right out with it. I don't want to be with you anymore."
He froze, his lips parted as though he was about to speak but had forgotten every word in his head.
"You don't mean that?" he said, grabbing my hands again. "You're not being serious."
"I'm being deadly fucking serious. I can't be with someone who acts like this. Who thinks it's okay to be possessive like this. It's not healthy. You're suffocating me."
He narrowed his eyes and swallowed hard as though he was fighting off the urge to cry. For a second, I thought I was going to see tears spring to his eyes and dreaded the idea of seeing him weep.
Don't turn on the water works for Christ's sake. Is there anything less attractive than a crybaby?
But it wasn't the urge to cry he was fighting back, it was anger. As his jaw pulled tight, his hands clenched into fists.
A look came over his eyes I'd not seen before. A look so tempestuous and sinister it set me on edge.
Fuck, what have I done?
"You bitch," he raged.
Quick as a flash, he shot his hand out and it wound around my wrist.
"You slut! Who is he?"
"There isn't anyone, you psycho! Let me go!"
I struggled with him, yelling at the top of my lungs. People began turning toward us, Alan peering over to see what all the noise was about.
"Get the fuck off me!"
"Who is he? Who's the asshole you're leaving me for?"
"There's isn't anyone! I just don't want to be with you!"
"You fucking bitch!"
I pulled against his grip as hard as I could, but he was intent on holding on to me. In a panic, I grabbed the nearest thing beside me, the empty Budweiser bottle and smashed it into the side of his face. There was an almighty crack I wasn't sure came from his face or the glass bottle.
But at last, he let me go.
"Fuck!"
He raised a hand to his head where blood was pumping out of his temple.
Shit, what did I just do!
I'd never hit anyone in my life before. I didn't even think I had it in me.
"You slut!" he raged.
He opened his eyes and grimaced against the pain. Pulling his hand away, he inspected his fingers and saw they were covered in blood. He stared at them in shock for a moment, then the anger blazed in his eyes once again.
"I'm gonna fucking kill you!" he yelled and raised his hand.
It all happened in slow motion. His fist right in front of my face, the look of pure psychotic rage in his eyes, the hammering in my chest as my heart beat faster and faster. I knew he was going to hit me; knew he had finally lost his mind. In defense, I raised my arm across my face as a scream escaped my mouth.
But before his fist could connect with me, all hell broke loose as Alan tore through the bar and flung himself at Billy.
"Hey, get the fuck off her!"
Everyone was running between us, Ruby hollering at the top of her lungs as she tried to drag me to safety while the bouncers rushed over from the front door. There was nothing but the sensation of bodies flying against one another, of limbs tangling together and the sound raised, frantic voices.
"Someone call the cops!" a girl screamed.
"Get him outta here!"
"Megan are you okay?"
"Megan?"
"Megan!"
Ruby had her arms around me as she held me for dear life. We watched as the bouncers grabbed Billy by the arms under Alan's command, and dragged him through the bar toward the back exit where they unceremoniously chucked him out into the freezing night.
"What the fuck happened?" Ruby cried, still holding onto me.
"I'm not even sure," I replied, trying to take it all in. "But that asshole's never coming near me ever again."
Jared
As soon as I opened the door to the diner, I was hit by the smell of pancakes and maple syrup.
"Right on time!" Tracey beamed as she slid my breakfast across the counter toward me.
"Thanks, you're the best."
Dylan was already tucking into his own breakfast while adoringly staring at Tracey with a cheesy grin on his face. Since they’d hooked up a few months ago and officially became a couple, the two of them had been love's young dream. Finally, Tracey had made a gentleman out of Dylan and the guy's idea of a wild night was now spent at home watching Netflix. It was weird at first, seeing him all loved up. It was like watching a rabid pit bull being tamed.
"So, you finally made it down from that mountain," he said, shoveling bacon into his mouth.
"You make it sound like I live at the top of Everest or something."
"You pretty much do. How do you cope up there?"
"I cope just fine."
Tracey reappeared with a pot of coffee and poured me a mug.
"You really don't have to live up there you know,” she said. “Dylan has a spare room. You can always move in with him if you don't wanna live alone in your apartment anymore."
"Totally," Dylan said with a full mouth, pointing a forkful of sausage at me. "You're welcome to stay with me anytime, buddy."
"Nah, nah. I appreciate it, but I love my little, old cabin."
"Old being the right word," Dylan agreed, mopping up egg yolk around his plate. "I heard it doesn't even have WiFi."
"Why need WiFi when you're connected to nature?"
Dylan and Tracey shared a look as though they thought I'd gone nuts.
"Did you really just say that?" Dylan asked. "Anyway, how do you survive up there?"
"And how do you watch Game of Thrones," Tracey inquired, asking the important questions in life. "And how do you get on Instagram?"
"Guys, guys. I'm fine. Really. I'm happy up there. I'm not saying I'm gonna live up there forever. Just for a little while until I... I dunno, until I get my head clear or something. Besides, it was my grandpa's cabin and he'd left it to both Jackson and me when he died almost ten years ago. The two of us never set foot in it until recently. Can't help but think he'd want me to stay in it."
Dylan chewed thoughtfully while Tracey moved to refill my already half-drunk coffee.
"I still think you're crazy," Dylan said. "No electricity. No TV. Just you and the mountain."
"I actually think it's quite romantic," Tracey said. "Being all cooped up in a cabin with nothing but a roaring fire."
"I dunno," Dylan replied. "There ain't nothing romantic about being eaten by bears. Keep expecting to get a call someday saying a grizzly made his dinner out of you."
He finished off the last of his breakfast and pushed his plate away, smacking his stomach and letting out a satisfied sigh.
"Tracey, you're an absolute goddess in the kitchen," he said.
"And in the bedroom," she replied with a wink as she took his empty plate behind the counter.
Dylan chuckled and smacked her ass playfully as she walked away.
"You two make me nauseous," I joked. "You're like a couple of teenagers."
"Aw man, I can't even tell you how good it is between us," Dylan replied.
"Spare me the details. I'm the only single one on the team now, don't need you rubbing my nose in your happy love life."
"You never think about getting yourself a girl?"
" Nah. I don't have time for that. I'm happy on my own."
"That's what I used to think," he replied. "But I'm telling you, nothing beats being with that special someone."
"I can't believe I've actually hearing this from you, the guy who used to have a different girl in his bed every weekend."
"Hey, man. I've grown up."
He sipped on his coffee and looked up at the clock. It was approaching eight o'clock, and soon enough Jackson and Lucas would be arriving, and it would be time to head into the office.
Beside me, I could sense Dylan growing uneasy and restless in his seat. I could feel him staring into the side of my head, feel him dying to tell me something.
"Jared?"
"Uhuh?"
"I'm really sorry I wasn't in court with you yesterday."
"Don't be. There was nothing to see anyway."
"Apart from Mario's piece of shit face."
"You wouldn't have even seen that. He stared at his shoes the whole time and said nothing. And when he was sentenced, he just walked away. Didn't even look over his shoulder."
"Seriously? I would have expected him to blow up a in rage or something."
"Me too, but he just walked away like a sulky kid that had been sent to his room. It was surreal."
"So that's the end of it?"
"I suppose so."
"Feels weird knowing that it's all over now. Benny Senior is dead and Benny Junior too, and Mario's just... gone. Just withering away behind bars and that huge fucking house up there and that bunker is just gonna rot away to nothing."
"There's a rumor going around that someone's trying to buy it to turn it into a hotel and give guided tours of the bunker."
"Shut up," Dylan laughed. "Really?"
"Hey, that's what I heard."
I'd laughed too when I'd heard the news. I couldn't think of anything more absurd than people queuing up to spend a night in the Mafia mansion followed by a nice stroll through the bunker. But, people did weird shit all the time.
Behind us, the bell above the door tinkled as the door opened. I spun round to see Lucas enter with a yawn.
"The biggest, strongest coffee you got, please Tracey," he said, then slumped onto the stool beside me.
"What's up with you?" I asked.
"My youngest has chicken pox. She was up half the night crying. I'm telling you, Jackson won't know what hit him when that baby comes. He'll never sleep a full eight hours again."
On cue, the bell tinkled again and in walked Jackson, looking as though he was already practicing for the upcoming years of sleep deprivation.
"Jesus Christ what happened to you?" I asked, handing him a pot of coffee.
"Had to get up at five this morning to get Gabby some pickles. She gets like possessed or something when she can't get them."
"Well, it's safe to say the two of you haven't really sold me on the whole baby idea," I lau
ghed. "Right now, I don't have a care in the world. I mean, apart from my leg."
Jackson pulled up a stool and thirstily chugged at a mug of coffee.
"Still bothering you?” he asked. “I thought you were doing all the right exercises?"
"I am, but it still nags me from time to time. Especially now the weather's getting colder. It's becoming a real son of a bitch."
"You not thinking of getting it seen to?" Lucas asked. "I mean by a professional."
"Actually, as a matter of fact I am. I've booked a consultation with a Physical Therapist this afternoon."
"Hey, that's awesome. You can't be expected to recover all on your own."
But until now I thought I could. I was determined to go it alone; was adamant I didn't need a soul to help me get better. All I needed to do was man up and arm myself with a steely determination just like I’d done in the SEAL’s and ever since.
Except it wasn't that easy, and as the months progressed, and the pain lingered, always following me from one day to the next, I had to admit I needed help.
"So who is it?" Jackson asked. "I thought you hated doctors and hospitals and all that jazz."
"I do, but I hate the pain more."
Slipping off my stool, I walked over to the jukebox that had been newly placed at the back of the room. It was put there for little more than decoration after Lucas spotted it at an antique fair, but I'd grown to like the thing. There was something about the lights and the old timey records that made the place more homely. Besides, it had some pretty good classics, old blues songs I'd not heard since my dad used to play them, and the occasional Motown classic.
"Aw, don't put on anymore cheesy songs," Jackson moaned. "I swear to God if you play that Marvin Gaye song one more time I'll..."
But it was too late, and I was already slipping my coin in the slot and selecting Let's Get it On.
"Aargh!" Jackson moaned. "Why do you do this every morning?"
"I swear I should never have got that thing," Lucas grumbled. "I've been having to watch you dance around like a goon ever since we got it."
But I didn't give a shit what he thought and slid across the tiled floor singing along to my favorite song.
"Let's get it ooooon. Aaaaaaha. Let's get it oooooaaaaoooon."
I two-stepped my way back to my stool, still singing.