by Tiffani Lynn
I don’t care if I have to wait a week, I’ll get these assholes. Though I don’t think it will take that long. It’s obvious the attackers are on a mission. I got that loud and clear when they came after me. I wasn’t prepared then, but I am now. My hunting knife, this cast and the element of surprise are in my favor. They aren’t expecting me, but I sure as hell am waiting for them. Now I’m going to work on setting up the bait. Even with the cast those guys won’t get me again, and if they are out roaming, looking for prey, they won’t get that either. I’m pissed off and ready to fight. Most of the people on the street don’t bother anyone. They stay to themselves and out of the way. There is no reason to target us with their hatred.
Several hours have gone by when footsteps finally break up the quiet of the alley. My hearing clicks into hyper-drive as I assess the situation without opening my eyes. As the footsteps get closer I count three sets. I only expected two, but I can handle one other person. They aren’t being quiet so my guess is they think they can take me even without sneaking up on me. Stupid mistake.
I sit up and adjust on my haunches, acting bleary eyed and confused as if they’ve woken me up. My cast stays covered because I plan to use it as a weapon and I don’t want them to know it.
“Looks like you’re the only dumb fucker out here today. That works for us,” the first guy says. This is one of the same guys who approached me with the baseball bat a little over a week ago. His twitchy hands, wild fuzzy hair, and crazy eyes are things I’ll never forget.
I don’t respond to his words, I just continue to stare directly at him while the other two attempt to move behind me. It would be a mistake to allow that, so I leap to my feet and take a few steps back.
The first guy speaks again. “Think you can take us?” He chuckles and looks to the second guy with dark, slicked back hair and a slightly thicker, more muscular build. I haven’t seen him before. “This dirty, dumbass motherfucker thinks he can take us on.”
When the second guy laughs, I notice he’s missing a front tooth, which gives him the appearance of a street thug straight out of a movie.
A quick glance at the third guy and I know he was the other one in the alley during my first encounter with them.
“What’s the matter? You just realize it’s three to one? You might as well get it through your dirty little head that you can’t beat us. We’re here to clean up the streets. Doing what the Colorado Springs PD isn’t willing to do. Time to fix what’s broken ‘round here.” He chuckles a little, triggering a phlegm-filled cough. Gross.
I shake off the blanket that’s covering my cast and adjust my stance to be able to take whoever comes my way first.
Guy number two lunges at me and I shift just enough that he misses me and stumbles over the pile of my things. Guy number one leaps forward and throws a punch. I raise my casted arm to block it and although the jolt to the cast sends a spike of pain up my arm, it still stops the guy in his tracks. He howls in pain and curses me while the third guy comes at me. I give him a high side kick, sending him to the pavement. With my back to guy number two, I don’t see him when he tackles me from behind and knocks me to the ground. It’s only seconds before we are in an all-out brawl on the ground. I struggle to reach my hunting knife in my waistband when guy number three gets a side punch into my jaw and I grow dizzy, losing the grip on my knife. It takes me a second too long to get my bearings back and reach for my knife again, and during that time they’re all on me, kicking and punching my still-sore body. What the hell was I thinking? At least this isn’t another person who, like Ms. Nona, couldn’t defend herself, who never would have hurt anyone. When I am about to black out from pain I hear a crazy sound that I can only explain as a woman’s war cry. What the hell is that? Everything is happening so fast it’s almost a blur and I can’t figure out where that noise came from before I finally fade to black.
9
Rosie
People underestimate me all the time. They think because I’m a woman I’m not strong or able to defend myself. Because of the life I lived under the thumb of a pimp and at the mercy of too many men who thought hitting a woman was good foreplay, I’m tougher and crazier than anyone would guess. Most of the time I can hide that behind a meek exterior. I don’t like confrontation, I abhor violence, and I don’t enjoy being in any situation where I have to fight, but make no mistake: I’m capable of hurting someone beyond recognition.
Am I an idiot for going after Cy? Probably, but there is no way I was going to let him go out and face this situation alone. Even if he doesn’t come back home with me, I won’t let anyone else hurt him if it can be helped. I found his map on the bed in the spare bedroom when I went looking for clues about where he may have gone, and I was certain I knew what he was doing. With no idea how long he’s been gone, I sense that time is against me so I bundle up quickly. Then I snag the wooden Louisville Slugger I keep next to the coatrack by the front door, a new can of Mace, my purse, and I hustle out of the house.
By the time I find the several streets that Cy had marked, my adrenaline is pumping. A bit of fear and a bit of urgency are fueling my fire. I park my car on the side of a deserted warehouse, text Dex to let him know where I am and what I’m doing, and jog north toward the first marked location. I find nothing. No Cy and no one else either. I pull my phone out of my pocket and review the picture I took of the map. I ignore the call that comes through from Dex, knowing he will be mad. Then I move forward quickly, trying to be quiet and listen.
Nothing on any of the streets so far. When I finally reach the last street, I can hear noise further down, seemingly coming from an alley. Screw it. I run toward the noise, gripping the baseball bat tight in my hands. My phone is snug in my back pocket, buzzing like crazy, and the Mace is in my coat pocket. I’m planning to take a few swings before I break out the Mace. When I finally make it to the place the sounds are coming from, I see that it’s three against one. The one happens to be on the ground and I can’t tell if it’s Cy, but even if it’s not, I won’t let that happen to someone else either. I come in hot with the baseball bat on the middle guy’s back. He buckles and falls forward, knocking the guy next to him off balance. The third guy turns and lunges at me and I get half a swing in on him too. He grunts and bends over after it connects, knocking the bat free of my hands. I scramble to get the Mace out of my pocket as the other two come for me together. My fingers fumble until I lift and aim. As soon as the spray hits one of the guys, he squeals like an angry pig and the other two retreat. I keep one hand on the Mace and reach down to retrieve the bat with the other.
When I glance down at the victim, my heart clenches. Although the face is beaten to a pulp, that’s Cy’s casted arm and the jacket that Mari bought him. He’s not moving. Something about the helplessness of such a tough man triggers a crazed bear-type reaction and I charge Cy’s attackers, screaming like I’m releasing a demon from the hottest part of hell. My bat connects with one guy’s arm and he drops to his knees while I aim for the other guy’s head and he ducks. I drop the bat quickly and spray his eyes with the Mace. He screams louder than the first guy and crashes into the dumpster as he attempts to get away from me.
I could take that bat to him easily for good measure at this point, but Cy still hasn’t moved and I’m getting freaked. I bend down to check his pulse. “Cy! Cy! Can you hear me?” Nothing.
“Cy!” I scream it this time and I’m so wrapped up trying to get a response out of him that I miss how one of the guys is recovered and coming for me. I’m caught off guard when the right side of my face explodes in pain and I’m sent flying to my back. Disoriented and in a wicked amount of pain, I roll around on the ground trying to figure out what the hell is going on when suddenly my attacker is straddling my hip. His short, wild, curly hair is standing on end all over his round little head. It’s the eyes though I won’t ever forget if I get out of this. Wild, unhinged, scary eyes blaze with anger and something I can’t quite name, but it’s something I’ve seen before in my h
istory of living through hell. I wiggle and try to squirm away but am still dizzy and unable to make all my parts work like they should. He stands quickly, placing his booted foot on my chest to hold me still. “Should’ve left us alone and gone your own way. Playing Supergirl doesn’t end well in real life,” he snarls.
“Fuck you!” I bark at him, angry that I’m once again powerless and that I wasn’t able to save Cy. My head hurts, my body aches, but it’s my heart that’s shattered. Cy.
“You are one stupid bitch,” he says before he spits on me. As I’m wiping the disgusting phlegm off my face, he reaches over and grabs my baseball bat. When he raises it, poised to crack my skull in two, a gunshot sounds and he goes flying backwards, the bat dropping to the alley floor off to the side. The look of shock on his horrible face gives me great satisfaction as I lie there, my head hurting too bad to move.
“Rosanna!” Dex yells. God, I love that man. I knew he would come, I just didn’t know it would take so long. Boots pound on the pavement until they stop next to me. “Rosie! God damn it! Rosie! Open your eyes!” I do my best to comply but my eyes just won’t open again. My mind fades to black and the last thing I think of is Cy.
10
Cy
While I’m in the emergency room sitting on the edge of the bed, Dex enters.
“Hey, man, how are you doing?” he asks, and somehow, I know his question is not about the state of my injuries but more about my state of mind as I sit in an emergency room with no windows in sight.
“Better than I was when I first met you. I know I can’t stay here overnight. I’ll never make it, but I can at least tolerate being in here for a short period of time now. How’s Rosie? No one will tell me anything and I’m five minutes from losing my shit.”
Something passes over his face but it’s too quick for me to read.
“Concussion is all I know. She hasn’t come to yet. Mari is in with her now. Not enough room for both of us.”
“I’m sorry. I had no idea she would follow me. I thought it was okay for me to go.”
“Listen, I’m not the kind of guy to tell another man what to do, but I’m certain it wasn’t okay for you to go, even if Rosie didn’t follow you. You could’ve been killed.”
“I get it, but knowing that people who are vulnerable like Ms. Nona were likely to die at the hands of those guys had me in motion. I couldn’t think of anything else but stopping them. It didn’t seem like the police were doing much. It took me all of three hours to figure out where they were going to be and set it up.”
“Our—”
“Stop. You know as well as I do that it wasn’t a priority for the CSPD. Someone had to do something quickly and I was the one with the least amount to lose.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” Dex levels me with a hard stare before he continues. “You had Rosie to lose.”
“I didn’t know she was going to follow. She’s such a mild-mannered person, I had no clue—”
“I’m not talking about her following you. I’m talking about her falling for you. Rosie clearly feels something strong for you and she’s one hell of a woman. You had her to lose. If you didn’t realize that then you’re dumber than I thought. One thing I’ve learned about Rosie is that she doesn’t do casual. Not with friendships and certainly not relationships. If she cares about you, she’s all in and she lets you know. From what I saw during your time with her...she cares, big time.”
“I’m not in a place to be there for someone else. I haven’t even seen my family in years. I have no relationships outside of brief encounters with people on the streets. I have nothing to offer a woman as amazing as her.”
“By observation I would say that’s not true. You can give her exactly what she needs just by being who you are. Do you need to work on some things? Yes. You need to start with a trip home to your folks and end it on Rosie’s doorstep.” He stands up and pulls a card out of his wallet. “Here’s my card, call me if you need anything. I need to check in on the ladies. I’m serious, call me anytime. Take care. And, man, I’m telling you to think hard before you let that woman slip away. You won’t ever find anyone better.” Dex stands and walks away, leaving me completely perplexed.
I’m surprised he would want someone like me to be with a sister-in-law he clearly adores. I mean, I’m full of emotional issues, I have no permanent address and haven’t in years. Why would he want me for Rosie?
It’s hours by the time they finally release me and I’m antsy as hell. I know Dex is right, I need to go home. However, I know I’m not ready for a plane; there’s no way you can shut the door to the aircraft and lock it without me going bonkers. I may have made great strides over the last couple of weeks but I’m not even close to well enough for that.
I dig my debit card out of the hidden compartment in my backpack and have the woman at reception call me a taxi to take me by the bank and deliver me to the bus station. I buy a bus pass to Florida and choose a window seat, knowing if I can see outside I’ll be able to make the two-day trip.
When I arrive at my parents’ doorstep, I have a moment of hesitation. What if they don’t want to see me after all this time? What if I’ve just caused too much pain? Before I can chicken out or leave to rethink this somewhere else, the front porch light pops on and the door opens.
My father, who looks exactly the same, minus some hair and plus some wrinkles, stops abruptly when he recognizes me.
I swallow hard. “Hi, Dad.”
He doesn’t hesitate. He throws the door open and dives at me, wrapping me up in the tightest hug I’ve ever had from him. Sobs break free from his throat and he holds me tighter, which makes me flinch. My ribs are still sore. He pulls back abruptly. “I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”
“Nah, just a little sore,” I tell him, my smile stretching across my face because I’m so happy with his response. I should have known. I never should’ve doubted this.
He smiles and hugs me again, just not as hard.
“Baker, who’s here?” My mom’s voice dies off a little as she reaches the door to get the answer to the question she just asked. She’s wearing her hair shorter these days and it has a little more gray than before, but otherwise she looks the same and I’m relieved.
“Cyrus,” she whispers in shock. Tears spring to her eyes and she lunges at me, colliding with my body even harder than my dad. Before you know it, we’re all in a weird group hug, crying all over each other.
My dad is finally the one to break the hold and back away a bit. “Come on, Cathy, let’s get him inside.” He pauses for a moment and looks to me like he’s unsure I will enter the house.
I answer his unspoken question. “I can go inside if you can open some curtains for now.”
My mom nods quickly and hurries in ahead of us, throwing open all the curtains in the living room.
“Have a seat, son. Can I get you something to drink or eat? You look a little thin. Can I cook for you?”
“Not right now, Mom. Come have a seat. We need to talk.”
I spend that evening telling them about the last seven years and how Rosie changed me in the blink of an eye without even trying. My mom’s first question is, “Do you love her?”
“Surprisingly, I think I do.”
“That fast?” my dad asks.
“Yeah, Dad. She just, well, when you meet her... if you meet her, you’ll understand. She gets me like no one has before. I just hope I didn’t screw it up by leaving.”
“Why did you leave before you told her all this?”
I fidget in my seat a little before I answer honestly. “I felt like I needed to make it right with you guys before I tried to start a life with someone else.”
“Do you really think you’ll be able to do it this time?” my mom asks quietly.
“Yes. This is the first time since I’ve been home that someone really gets me. She’s been through so much of her own stuff that she understands in a way no one else could. Rosie is crazy beautiful, gentle and kind, and an absolut
e warrior when she needs to be.”
My mom shakes her head. “I can’t believe she came to literally save you with a baseball bat and Mace.”
“Don’t forget that she called her police officer brother-in-law on the way. If it weren’t for him we would both be dead. But yes, she came to fight for me.” I can’t help but be both angry and elated at her efforts.
“Ariel never would have done that,” my dad notes.
I don’t even have to think about it. I know they’re right. She would’ve been concerned about how it would affect her manicure.
“No, but I hope she’s happy with whatever life she’s carved out.”
“We see her at church on occasion with her husband and little girl but that’s about it. She looks happy. He’s an investment banker and they live in a big house in the middle of town.”
“Good. I’m glad she’s happy.” And I am, but I’m also grateful that she found her happiness elsewhere because even if I didn’t end up with severe PTSD, we never would have made it. We were too different from the start. I was just too young and dumb to see it.
Over the next couple of days, I take a lot of walks around my hometown in the fresh air, visit a couple of old friends and do pretty well being in the house, considering all the feelings I’m dredging up. The first two nights I ended up sleeping on the front porch swing after my parents went to bed. The bedroom felt to tight, too confining. The difference between this visit and the ones in the beginning is that now I just do what I need to do to cope while fighting through the shitty feelings.
At breakfast, five days into my trip, my dad asks, “Are you going back to your Rosie?”
