by K. C. Crowne
"Yeah. He's not smart enough to do much else."
"I dunno," Jackson said, scratching his chin in thought. "I don't reckon he has to be smart to get out of jail, just rich."
"Regardless," I butted in. "I don't give a shit how he escaped. All I care about is that he has escaped. That means he's walking the streets. He could be anywhere right now. Five am was a long time ago."
"Yeah, you're right," Jackson agreed. "If he had a plane waiting for him, he could be pretty much anywhere on the other side of the planet by now."
We all fell quiet as we contemplated his whereabouts while Jackson continued to pace.
"I reckon he's gone somewhere totally clichéd. Like Mexico," he said.
"Nah," Lucas replied. "He's probably gone back to the old country. He'll be wanting to hide out in Sicily where he could be protected by his old man's family."
"Or!" Lucas chime din. "He's hiding in plain sight. I'd place a bet on him returning to New York."
But I didn't agree with any of their theories.
"I bet he's coming here," I said.
They all turned to me.
"To Station Springs?" Dylan laughed. "There's no reason to come back here. All the treasure that was rumored to be in the bunker was mostly fake and his old family house has been bought. What would he want to be here for?"
"Us," I replied. "I reckon he'll want revenge. If it wasn't for us, he wouldn't have been caught."
"Nah, nah, nah," Dylan said dismissively. "He's an asshole, but men like him go where the money’s at. He's not going to break out of jail to come get us. And if he was really that bothered about getting to us, he'd have hired his cronies to do it for him. Remember, Mario doesn't do his own dirty work."
"Not unless he's killing his own brother."
"Anyway!" Lucas said as he flipped through the articles on his phone. "He'll get caught in a heartbeat. People who break out of jail don't last more than a couple hours. He's probably being detained right now."
But I wasn't as hopeful as he was.
Suddenly, the pain in my leg grew stronger, and I touched a hand to the scar beneath my pants, a reminder of that night at the bunker.
"Your leg bothering you?" Dylan asked, noticing me wince.
"Yeah. It's being a real bastard today."
"Aren't you supposed to be at Physical Therapy today?"
I looked up at the clock. It was approaching eleven already. I should have been on my way half an hour ago, but I knew I could never make any of my appointments ever again. How was I supposed to just lie there in front of Megan and have her work on me as though there was nothing between us, as though nothing had happened.
She'd made it pretty clear she wasn't interested in me, or any guy for that matter. I was nothing but a quick fuck. Just some guy to give her a good night then it was goodbye forever.
I should have felt the same way. It wasn't as though I hadn't had the occasional one stand before and I was no prude, but somehow, I was just so convinced what I had with her was more than that. That what we had was... real?
Every single night since I'd seen her last, I'd lay awake having to force myself not to call her. There was nothing more I wanted than to see her, and as I fell asleep, I always thought of her body, of the way she tasted and the way she sounded as she came.
Even thinking about her now made my cock twitch with the threat of an erection.
Forget about her, I told myself. She doesn't want you. Just let her go.
But I knew it wasn't going to be that easy.
"No, " I said to Dylan. "I don't have an appointment today.”
"Really?" Jackson asked, finally standing still. "I could have sworn you had an appointment today."
"I also heard the two of you had a little thing at her house the other night," Dylan asked.
"What? When did you hear that?"
"Her neighbor across the road babysits for Tracey's cousin and she saw the whole thing."
"Jesus Christ! What is it with this town? Why does everyone know everyone's business?"
"Wait? Something happened?" Jackson asked. "Why didn't you tell us?"
"Yeah, why didn't you say you were dating your therapist?"
" Guys! Listen. It's complicated. And I didn't want to say anything because... Well, a gentleman doesn't divulge his secrets."
"A gentleman!" Dylan scoffed. "That wouldn't exactly be a word I'd use to describe you. Anyway, from what I heard there was some sort of scuffle between you and her ex."
“That's a fucking understatement. What did you hear?"
" Just that you all made a hell of a lot of noise and the cops arrived."
Jackson glared at me, angry for not telling him.
"You got in a fight?" he asked.
I opened my mouth to explain everything, but before I could, the main office phone rang. Lucas wheeled his chair over to it and answered in his usual chipper voice.
"Hello, you've reached Securicorp? This is Lucas speaking. How may I help you? Uhuh.... Uhuh... This afternoon? Yes, I don't see why that would be a problem. We'd be happy to be there. Okay, see you soon."
We all stared at him expectantly as he hung up.
"Who was that?" I asked.
"Sebastian. He just asked us to head on down to the Halloween festival venue to have a look around the place, so we can begin planning out our security measures."
"Seems a bit over the top," Dylan laughed. "The festival isn't for a few weeks yet, and what exactly are we supposed to be checking out? A public park?"
"I know. I know," Lucas rolled his eyes. "His exact word was ‘reconnaissance’."
"You're kidding me," Jackson chuckled. "Really? It's not fucking Fallujah. It's a gig in Station Springs."
"Apparently Red Cherry's management are adamant they know all the security plans beforehand."
"Jesus, how bad is this stalker?" I asked. " I suppose there's no harm in heading on down there. Beats sitting around the office with our thumbs up our asses."
"Why are there so many people here?" I asked, looking down toward the park.
The luscious spread of grass that been a hub of the town all summer had turned a crisp orange as the leaves began to fall. And the trees that lined the paths were strewn in orange and black Halloween bunting.
"I have no idea," Lucas said, pulling his scarf up over his chin. "Looks like everyone who's working at the festival is here."
"Come on," Jackson called, crunching his way through the leaves. "Let's head on down. It's freezing!"
We all followed him down the hill toward the main entrance of the park that stood in front of the proud, sandstone town hall building. As we approached, a short guy in a pair of faded, ripped jeans and a leather jacket looked up and noticed us. He came running up to meet us like an excited child.
As we got nearer, I saw he was at least twenty years older than I thought he was with badly dyed, black hair and an alarming amount of fake tan across his face. Dylan and I shared amused glances as Lucas stood out front to greet him.
"Hello, you must be Sebastian. I'm Lucas. We spoke over the phone."
"Aw, right! That's rad, Lucas. I'm so stoked you guys are here. This is gonna be a bomb festival. Station Springs is gonna be rockin!"
He threw up Devil horns with his fingers and stuck his tongue out. I looked over to Jackson who was trying his hardest to suppress the urge to laugh.
"Who the fuck is this clown?" Dylan whispered.
One by one, he shook each of our hands and grinned to reveal teeth so big and white they looked like dentures.
"So, you guys are all ex-Navy SEALS, right?"
"That's right," I said.
"You guys must have seen some crazy shit, ammiright?"
We all just stared at him. None of us were in the mood to tell him shit about our experiences. What the fuck would he know anyway? The hardest job he ever pulled was trying to convince the world he was cool and still in his thirties.
"Anyway," he continued, slapping his hands together. "
I've invited so many of you here today because as you know, we've got the Red Cherry playing this year. Which is just uber, super cool. You know me and Max the bassist used to be best friends growing up."
"Really," I said, not entirely convinced. "You and the best bassist on Earth, Max Blizzard were besties?"
"Oh sure," Sebastian replied. "In fact. I was in his first band when we were teenagers. I was heading for the big time banging my drums, but you know how it is? I injured my shoulder in a wrestling accident and never drummed again.
"This guy's a first-class bullshitter," Dylan chuckled in my ear.
“He's an absolute tool,” I replied. “How did even get this job organizing the festival?”
“Beats me.”
“Okay,” Sebastian said. “We've got a fair amount of people here today. Let me introduce you to some of the guys. This is Jonathan.”
He pointed to a slick, skinny guy in a beige suit and a pink shirt.
“He's head of operations.”
Jonathan gave us all a polite wave then returned his attention to the clipboard in his hands.
“And this is Senator Ogilvy's assistant, Eleanor.”
“Senator Ogilvy?” I asked. “He's here?”
“Sure,” Sebastian replied. “I saw him a second ago.”
“He's just getting a coffee,” Eleanor informed us as she tapped away on her iPad.
“It's a bit premature for him to be here, isn't it?” I asked her.
She looked up from her iPad, smiled as she looked me over and began twirling a loose strand of hair coyly.
“Like you, he was called in to survey the location well in advance. And if you know the Senator, you'll know he likes to do things for himself. He's not the kind to let his assistant do all the work. Oh, look there he is now.”
We all turned to follow her gaze up the grassy hill where a suited figure in a long, navy blue Crombie coat came striding toward us. You didn't even need to see his face to know who it was. His proud posture with his chest swelled out with self-importance told us.
I could feel Jackson move protectively toward me.
“Don't even look at him. Don't talk to him. Just pretend he's nobody.”
But it was too late, because the closer he came, the more interest he showed in the cluster of men around his assistant.
“Hello!” he boomed. “You all must be the boys from SecuriCorp. I've heard a lot of good things about you all.”
“That's right,” Dylan said, taking the lead. “We're just here for a quick look around. Won't be staying much longer.”
Ogilvy shook his hand and gave him a polite smile before moving onto Lucas. For the first time in years, I was face to face with him and to my surprise, he hadn't aged a day. If anything, he looked ever better than he did when I was a kid.
He always was a handsome, strong-featured guy reminding everyone who met him of a younger Robert Redford. But he knew how charming his appearance was and how to pair it with his political power to make everyone he met swoon.
I even saw a slight flicker of admiration in Lucas' eyes as he shook his hand.
What the fuck do I do now? Shake his hand like everything's normal? Or do I leave? No, fuck that. I'm not running away from anything. I did nothing wrong.
“So, Sebastian tells me you guys are ex-Navy SEALS,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee and looking around the group. “That's phenomenal. You really have my utmost respect. It's about time the young men of our country stood up and became heroes like you and-”
He paused as his eyes reached Jackson's face, then mine. Blinking a few times as though he couldn't believe what he saw, he lost his train of thought and fell silent.
A cloud of tension hung over the group. Ogilvy and I stared at each other. It was his move or mine. But before either of us could speak, Sebastian suddenly burst in between us.
“Hey, guys! That's one of the team from Red Cherry's management, Nigel. Hey, Nigel! Over here!”
Then tension dissipated as we all turned to see a member of the rock stars' entourage. I looked across the park to see a guy in leather pants and a black bomber jacket climb out of a black Mercedes. When I looked back round to Ogilvy, I saw he was gone. My eyes found him a few yards away, whispering furiously into his assistant's ear.
The afternoon passed and we were still lurking around the park talking trivialities with Sebastian and his team. But finally, people were starting to disperse and go home.
“Think it's time to get outta here,” Jackson said, nodding toward his truck. “This has been a whole waste of time.”
“Yeah, we would have been better off just sitting in the office with our thumbs up our asses,” Dylan agreed.
Lucas was already walking toward the truck, eager to get away.
“Hey, guys!” Sebastian called up the hill after us. “I forgot to say, I've got some programs to give you for the festival.”
Everyone but me was almost at the truck by now, so I found myself saying, “I'll come get it!” and running back down the hill. “Get you guys back at the truck in two minutes!”
“They're in my car,” Sebastian said as he led me down to the other side of the park. “It'll show the locations of all the events at the festival and what times they're all happening at.”
People were starting to drift off, no doubt wondering what the hell they were doing there as much as we were. I couldn't help but think the whole day had been planned as some kind of ego trip for Sebastian.
“Here,” he said, reaching into his glove box and pulling out a bunch of flimsy papers.
“Wow, these are the most detailed things I've ever seen.”
“I've got every inch of this place mapped out,” he said proudly, tapping the page in my hands. “This is gonna be the best festival ever. Seriously, Red Cherry are gonna rock the shit outta Station Springs. People will be talking about it for years. Like Woodstock.”
I had my doubt this little dweeb could pull of anything remotely close to Woodstock, but at least Red Cherry were gonna be dynamite.
“Anyway, I better get back to the office,” he said, shaking my hand before climbing into his car. “It's been great meeting you. The next time I see you this whole freakin' park will be bouncing!”
“Yep. Can't wait. Catch you later.”
He closed the door and drove off at full speed, his tires screeching down the asphalt.
“Goon,” I said to myself as I watched him drive like a lunatic around the bend.
Behind me, leaves crunched underfoot, and I was aware of a presence. I didn't need to turn to see who it was. I could smell the expensive cologne and sense the hostility.
“You've got some fucking nerve showing up here,” Ogilvy seethed.
I didn't turn around. Didn't want to give him the satisfaction of having me pay him any attention.
“I'm talking to you, boy,” he spat and grabbed me by the shoulder.
Now he had my attention. I spun round and smacked his hand off me, eyes blazing into his.
“Call me boy one more time. I fucking dare you.”
He took a step back and looked me up and down, amused.
“You've grown up,” he chuckled. “Looks like war finally gave you some balls. Too bad they didn’t drop a little sooner.”
“What do you want Senator?”
“I wanted to see my daughter’s biggest mistake close up with my own two eyes.”
My stomach clamped itself into a knot with anger. Up on the hill, I was aware of Jackson and the boys watching us. Slowly, Jackson began edging his way down.
“You know fucking well I did nothing to hurt Marie.”
“My little girl would have never gotten involved in that shit if she hadn’t been wasting her time with the likes of you.”
He stepped forward and jabbed his finger hard into my chest.
“Get your fucking hands off me.”
The anger was evident in my eyes, and once again he realized I wasn't the scrawny teenager I used to be. I was a man bigger t
han he was and had fought bastards a lot bigger and badder than he was. Taking a step back, his eyes flicked over to Jackson who was steadily making his way toward us.
“I loved Marie,” I told him. “I would have done anything to help her. It was me who tried to get her off the pills! Me who spent all those nights with her when she was sick. And where were you, huh? Out at charity galas living the high life when your own daughter was dying of an addiction. I didn't kill her. Your fucking apathy did!”
A look of shock was slapped across his face as though I had physically hit him. He stood stunned for a second before the anger rose within him.
“You little piece of shit!” he raged, lunging for me.
He moved to grab me by the jacket, but before he could reach me, Jackson was flinging himself between us.
“Woah! Calm down. Calm down! Come on, Jared. Let's get you outta here.”
He dragged me away, but Ogilvy's eyes were still piercing mine.
“You're never gonna get away with what you did,” he said.
“Ignore him,” Jackson said, pulling me up toward the truck. “The bastard's out of his mind.”
As we reached the truck, Dylan and Lucas jumped down onto the sidewalk.
“Fuck, that didn't look good,” Lucas observed.
“I'm guessing he hasn't changed his mind over the years,” Dylan said as he watched Ogilvy move toward his own blacked out car.
“Changed his mind?” I said, getting in the back seat. “Nothing changes about Ogilvy. He's the same deluded asshole he always was.”
Megan
Three Weeks Later
"Hello, Sabrina! Back again?"
"Unfortunately. I absolutely destroyed my right calf muscle running a marathon recently."
"Oof. Let's have a look."
Sabrina had been one of my most loyal patients, not just because we got on well, but because she was forever injuring herself. A mother of three, full-time personal trainer, and competitive runner, she made me feel like a lazy oaf in comparison. Until I met her, I thought I was the fittest person I knew.
"So where was this marathon?" I asked as she jumped up onto the examination table.