by Kelly Moore
I don’t know who is behind it, but I know they have been watching me all this time. “Why don’t your cowardly friends come out?” I yell.
Miles scrapes a metal chair towards him across the dirty cement. He sits directly in front of me and pulls a picture out of his shirt pocket. “I have a new picture for you. You’ve been long forgotten, my friend.” He places it on the table directly in my line of vision, holding it in place with his grubby fingers.
“Brooklyn has taken up with your brother Jake, and he’s raising your son.” He laughs. It’s a picture of Brooklyn, Jake, and… God, I don’t even know my own son’s name. They’re sitting on a blanket spread out on grass. Jake has his arm wrapped around Brooklyn’s shoulder. She looks so happy with him. I squeeze my eyes shut to keep them from tearing up. Miles jerks my head up by my hair. “I want you to look at what you’ve given up your life for. She’s moved on.”
My entire arm is throbbing, but what I wouldn’t give to knock the teeth out of his round, little head. His chair rocks back when he stands. He walks behind me and wrenches back my broken hand, filling my world with agony. The sudden blinding pain pulls an animal scream from deep within me.
“All you have to do is agree to join our team again. I have a really big contract, and you’re the only agent that could pull it off. I’ve been waiting all this time, but I’m losing my fucking patience with you.” The warmth from his breath is on my ear, causing my blood to boil. “You have left me no choice.” He walks back in front of me, yanking my head back up to look in his beady eyes. “If you don’t take this contract, I will kill all three of them.”
“If you lay one fucking hand on any of them, I swear to God I’ll cut your fucking balls off and feed them to you one by one.” Sweat, the byproduct of my all-encompassing anger, explodes from my pores.
He steps back and laughs, the sound echoing off the bare walls. “Not only will I kill them, but I’ll kill the boy first while his mother watches.”
My jaw flexes in anger and my nostrils flare from trying to keep my emotions in check. I know all he wants is to get me pissed. I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing it.
He takes a few steps closer and leans over me. “Can you imagine? She had to watch you die, only to relive all that anguish by watching the only thing you left her be taken away by the same man.”
“We don’t kill innocents! We never have!” I yell, losing the raging battle within me.
“If you would have killed Brooklyn instead of playing hero, we wouldn’t be in this mess. You forget, when you took down the pharmaceutical companies, you made a lot of enemies. You are only alive because of me.” He points at his rounded chest.
I pull at my restraints. “You call this living!”
“It’s your choice, John. What’s it going to be? You have about ten seconds to decide before I put a hit out on your whole family.”
I stare at the picture. I can’t let them die. “I’ll do it you slimy little bastard. Just leave them the fuck alone!”
“Untie him,” he tells one of the guards, “and see to it his hand gets set. He will start his training tomorrow.”
As my binds come loose, I rub my swollen hand and watch as Miles leaves the room. I gained two things today. One: hopefully I got a message to Jake. And two: I know that I’m still in Chicago. As soon as I get the hell out of here, I know where to get my hands on some weapons. They have made the mistake of keeping me on my turf, and I will take full advantage of it when the time is right.
Chapter Two
Brooklyn
“I got the lighter fluid!” I yell while opening the screen door.
“We’re in the kitchen” I hear Jake call out. When I walk in, he’s opening and shutting drawers and J-Man is sitting in his booster seat at the table.
“What are you boys doing?” I set the bags on the counter, pulling out a box of cookies I bought for John. Let’s be honest though, they’re actually for me. I’m lucky I was able to get my figure back after John was born with my appetite.
“Crayons. J-Man wanted to color. I found the coloring books, but not the crayons.” He walks over and takes the cookie from my hand as I’m raising it to take a bite. He quickly shoves it into his mouth.
“Hey, those are not for you!” I swat at him as he dodges away.
“I’m trying to save you from having to lose a few pounds.” His finger points at my hips.
“I’ll have you know I weigh less than before I was pregnant.” I punch him in the arm. “Unlike you. You’ve gained a few pounds the last couple of years.” I smile, knowing it’s because he’s finally healthy. John squeals and says, “cookie,” while motioning with his little hands. I take two out, hand him one and put an entire cookie in my mouth before Jake can steal it. He just laughs at me.
“So, where do you hide those crayons?” He sits beside John.
I walk over to the china cabinet and open the middle drawer, causing a phone to slide forward into view. “Is this yours?” I hold it up and turn toward Jake.
His smile turns to a frown. “Yeah, I forgot I put it there.” He walks over and takes it from my hand. “It’s the burner phone I bought when we were on the run with John.” He flips it over in his hand, inspecting it like just seeing it again brings him closer to John.
“Why do you still have it? And better yet, why is it at my house?”
“I carried it around with me for a while, thinking John may call me on it. It was the last phone I spoke to him on and I couldn’t force myself to get rid of it. You came in one day from playing with J-Man outside and it had been in my hand. I didn’t want you to see it. I forgot that I had stashed it in here. I’m sorry, I’ll get rid of it.” He starts walking back over to John, pressing the power button on the phone as he takes his seat.
“You don’t have to get rid of it because of me. I understand why you would want to keep it. I used to check my phone every night to see if he had left me a message.” I walk over and place the crayons down in front of John. He grabs them and starts scribbling in the coloring book.
Jake stands and scoots his chair under the table. He walks over to the wall of cabinets and picks up my phone charger that’s plugged in next to the coffee pot. He plugs the phone in and sets it on the counter before grabbing the lighter fluid. “I’ll go start the grill.” He walks toward the door, but before he steps through, he pauses and looks back at me. “It’s a little ironic that you found that phone on the two-year anniversary of his death,” he says before walking out and closing the door behind him.
While John colors, I pull out the hamburger meat and start forming it into patties. I’m lost in my own thoughts, reminiscing about the time I shared with the only man I’ve ever loved. We never really had a time together that was peaceful; yet somehow in all the madness, we fell deeply and passionately in love. I sometimes wonder what his reaction would have been when I found out I was pregnant. I know I was in complete shock when that little blue line appeared. The first person I wanted to tell was John. I even picked up my phone to call him before I remembered he was gone. An hour later, after the tears subsided, my shaky hands were finally able to call my dad.
As soon as I whimpered into the phone, I heard him dismiss whoever was in his office. “What’s happened, Brooky?” His voice was quiet, waiting for me to give him more bad news.
“I’m pregnant,” I cried out, and he cried with me over the phone. Not because he was unhappy about me having a baby, but because he knew how much I missed John. He knew I could raise a baby on my own, but he also knew how badly I didn’t want to. It still breaks my heart knowing that John never met his beautiful son. He looks so much like his father that sometimes I have to smile to keep from crying when I look at him. Not that Jake doesn’t look just like him too, but the two of them are so different, they don’t really look the same to me.
I’m thankful for Jake being in our lives and loving J-Man like he was his. He helped me pick up the pieces after John died. He cried when I told him I was p
regnant, but they were tears of joy. He was glad that a piece of John would live on through a child. He was my Lamaze coach and he insisted on being in the room when he was born. He’s been here ever since. He’s my best friend and I feel completely safe with him around, but I’ve never once had the feelings for him like I did with John. They are two completely different men and my heart still belongs to John. Jake and I talked at length after the baby was born. I didn’t want him to feel obligated to stay with us. I wanted him to have the life he never got to when he was sick. I wanted him to find a woman and fall in love, having a family of his own someday.
I remember him saying, “You and J-Man are my family. I made a promise to John to take care of you if anything ever happened and that’s what I plan on doing for the rest of my life. I can do that and still meet a woman someday.”
And he has. He bought the place right down the road from me and opened a garage where he spends most of his time. He even built a rather large pole barn on his property once the business took off and outgrew the small garage attached to his house. Who knew he was so good with his hands? Working from home, he’s always around any time I need him to watch Little Man, and he comes over practically every day for dinner. We’ve remained so close that he’s no longer only John’s brother – now he is my brother as well.
He has dated a few women since we moved to Hawaii, but he never seems to keep them around very long and sometimes I think it’s because of me and J-Man.
His voice jars me from my pondering. “The grill is ready, how about those burgers?” The screen door slams behind him.
I quickly pound out the last patty and wash my hands. “All done,” I say, handing him the platter. “Let me grab the cheese for you.” I open the fridge and throw cheddar cheese slices on the plate next to the burgers. “Why don’t J-Man and I come out and swing while you’re cooking?” I ruffle his mop of hair before I pick him up.
“That’s a great idea because I think it’s supposed to rain later.” He opens the screen door and I head out to the swing set. Jake puts the burgers on the grill and I put J-Man in his toddler swing, fastening him tightly in the seat. He giggles as soon as he starts to move.
I watch the sway of the swing in a trance, back and forth, back and forth. My mind slips again to John. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about him. He used to occupy my mind in every moment of every day, but time has healed some of the pain. Now when I think about him, I smile. My thoughts go to his touch that I still crave so much. I grin, thinking about how much he loved being in control and how well he controlled my body. I had no restraint when it came to him. I would let him fuck me anywhere and any way that he wanted. He used to tease me about my crown slipping because I wasn’t prim and proper. I love that he brought out the side of me that was willing to submit to whatever he wanted. I would frequently turn the tables and gain control over him, which I secretly think he rather enjoyed. I can still recall the sounds he would make when my lips were wrapped around his cock. The taste of him no longer lingers, but I can still close my eyes and see the pleasure bound on his gorgeous face. I miss his touch, his kiss, his breath at my ear, claiming me as his.
After he died, I got as far away from politics as I possibly could. I didn’t want anything to do with Washington DC. I slipped out of the limelight and never looked back. After excitement of a cure for cancer faded into the background, my name finally quit being big news. I have a small research lab here on the island. I still seek cures for diseases, but all my findings are registered under a false name, with no links back to me. My latest research involves the cure for Alzheimer’s, but I’ve only just begun to scratch the surface with my findings. Who knows? Maybe in my lifetime, I’ll find the cure for that too. Except this time, I won’t be naïve about it. I won’t bring danger to my son. I don’t need the money after the millions I earned from developing a vaccine against cancer, but I love the research. It helps keep my mind off losing John.
“You okay?” Jake’s voice startles me. He didn’t make a peep as he walked up beside me.
I blink back the tears that are forming. “Yeah, I’m alright.” I smile, but I know damn well it doesn’t light up my face. J-Man’s head bobs to one side in his swing. He’s fallen sound asleep.
“Where were you? You were lost in John again, weren’t you?” His hand reaches out and stops the swing.
“I guess I was. Nothing new,” I say, unlatching the swing.
“I miss him too, you know.” He picks up John and cradles his head to his body. “I’ll go lay him down.”
I take a deep breath to chase away my thoughts and reign in the dark emotions lurking in the shadows near the forefront of my mind, greedily trying to free themselves. Sometimes I swear I still feel him near me and I get goosebumps. I’ve been promising myself for weeks now that on the two-year anniversary of his death I would finally let go. I’ll truly start over. His memory will never die thanks to his son, but I will force myself not to get lost in him anymore. My life starts over today. I clinch my jaw in determination and wipe away the last tear that I will allow to fall. “I love you, John,” I whisper, “but it’s time to finally let you go.”
The smoke flowing out of the grill draws my attention away. I pick up the bottle hanging from the side and open the lid to douse out the flames. Apparently the burgers are done. I place the slice of cheese on them before I take them off.
Back in the kitchen, I place the burgers on the buns and fix Jake a plate with all his favorites. There is potato salad made with no pickles (Jake hates pickles), baked beans, and his favorite flavor of Doritos – Cool Ranch.
He walks back into the kitchen with his eyes fixed on the burner phone charging on the counter. He picks it up, unplugging it, and sits down. I slide his plate in front of him and he finally looks up at me, blinking back retained tears. “I’m going to get rid of it,” he says, as he turns it on. I smile and pat his hand.
I make my own plate and sit beside him. He sets the phone on the table next to him. As he picks up his burger to take a bite, the phone dings with a message. We both stare at it in shock for a moment. “It has to be an old message,” he says, turning his gaze toward me.
“Are you going to open it?” I ask, almost in a whisper.
He slowly reaches for it, suddenly jerking his hand back as if it’s on fire. He looks at me and I nod at him for encouragement. The scene plays out before my eyes in slow motion as he picks up the phone and scrolls down to open the new message. The soft ding as the message appears on the screen seems to fill the entire house with sound. His mouth hangs open and he’s wide eyed staring at the words.
“What does it say?” My voice trembles in anticipation of his answer, whatever it may be.
“It says… Stand By Me.” I hear the breath he was holding escape as he reads it.
Chapter Three
John
Before the guard can reach for me, I grab the picture off the table and slip it into my pocket. I’m jerked out of my seat and led down the long concrete hallway. There are two guards this time, and each has a hand on one of my biceps, making sure they have me under control this time.
Instead of them leading me back to my prison, I’m pushed into a small bathroom. The floor is the same dirty concrete as the hallway and my cell, but the walls are made up of a dingy, white tile. The mold growing on the grout forms thin black lines between the filthy squares.
A drain sits in the floor directly below a shower head hanging from the open pipes that line the ceiling. A toilet and an old, green sink are against the other wall. The mirror hanging above it isn’t glass - it’s stainless steel that has been screwed directly to the wall. This place really is like a prison.
A bottle of some kind of universal shampoo and body wash is shoved against my chest. “Clean up, and then we’ll take you to see the doctor to have that hand of yours fixed.” He turns to guard the door. “I sure do hope you heal fast. I can’t imagine the kickback of a gun with a broken hand.”
I sc
off and turn my back to him to remove my boots and jeans. When I’m completely bare, I step under the shower head and turn on the water, letting it rain down on me.
It takes several minutes before the water warms up but it feels heavenly. I don’t even know how long it’s been since I’ve last showered, but the hot water streaming over my sore body makes me feel like a real person again.
“Time’s up, pretty boy. You’re not getting ready for a date,” the guard says.
I turn and look over my shoulder at him before shaking my head and turning off the water. He hands me a towel and I dry off while looking at my blurry reflection.
Being held captive for so long has caused a lot of muscle degeneration, and my skin now clings tightly to my bones. The scar on my cheek is nearly covered by the overgrown scruff on my face. My entire body is marred with marks of torture. My chest is littered with small cuts and circular burns from my many years of torment, each carrying a distinct memory of pain and anger that have lingered long since the wounds have healed. The circle-shaped scar on my chest, just below my left shoulder, I still recall the smell of burning flesh as it was scorched beneath Miles’ cigar.
After I dry off, a fresh pair of clothes is shoved toward me. I pull on the jeans, T-shirt, socks, and boots, and stand up straight. “Can I at least get a razor?” I ask, rubbing my jaw.
He lets out a small laugh but sticks his head out of the door and says something to the other guard.
A few minutes later, a disposable razor and shaving cream are handed to me. I lather up my face and drag the razor across my skin. My beard is long and thick from not shaving in so long, and the hairs stick between the blades. I have to rinse it and tap it on the edge of the sink to clean it out before swiping again.
I splash water on my face and pat it dry, looking closer at the man in the mirror. I don’t even recognize him. His eyes look dull and hollow, like he has nothing left to live for. Dark circles line them with small wrinkles at the edges. I look like I’ve aged a decade in the time I’ve been here.
