Xavier: A Men of Gotham Novel

by Daisy Allen

  He pulls on my arm, helping me up. My head feels like it’s been run over by a snow plow, and my mouth like I’ve been hooked by a marlin fisherman.

  “You’re a fucking mess, man.”

  “I’m fine.” And I am, I feel better than I have in hours. I’ll take this over the red-hot iron poker skewering a hole from my gut all the way to my fucking heart any day. “Jesus, I’m fine!” I yell, as he tries to turn me over, checking for wounds.

  “What the fuck is going on with you? I haven’t seen you this bad since... since I first fucking met you.”

  “Huh, that sorry sap had it fucking good,” I sneer.

  I push myself up but the ground shakes under me and I fall back onto the mat.

  “Whoa, steady, man.” Ram catches my arm and I shake him off.

  “I said, I’m okay! Geez, like I’ve never taken a punch before. I’ve taken plenty of YOURS in the past.”

  "I was pulling them, dickhead. Now, are you going to tell me what the hell is going on?"

  “Nothing, just blowing off some steam, it’s been a hard week.”

  “Problem with the girl?”

  I feel my head whip around, and it just makes him appear in front of me in double.

  “What? What girl?”

  “Shut up, I’m not an idiot. I’ve seen this all before.”

  I can’t argue. He has. I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly, until there’s nothing left in my lungs before I inhale again.

  "I found her. Well, she found me. Or, I dunno. Fate found us. Or Lucifer."

  “The girl?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Holy fuck, man.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “It’s not sunshine and rainbows, dancing around in each other’s arms singing ‘la dee daa’?” He purses his lips together and makes a kissy noise.

  “Can you please not ever do that ever again? I’m in enough pain.”

  “You asked for it,” he shrugs.

  Yeah. I’d have happily taken more if he hadn’t stuck his fucking nose into my business.

  “No. It’s not… all la dee rainbows,” I wave my hand at him. “It…” The memory of her telling me suddenly floods my brain. The images. Her fear, palpable. Her voice cracking. Her eyes filling with shame, sadness, hopelessness. "Oh god, Ram." My heart feels like it's tearing itself open in my chest. I struggle to breathe.

  It’s my fault. It’s all my fault.

  I should never have let her go alone.

  I should have dropped everything and told her I’d go with her to the ends of the earth, wherever she wanted, whenever.

  But I didn’t. I sent her here, alone.

  Again and again and again… I’ve failed her. I have never been able to protect her, not even from me. What kind of man was I that she thought she had to protect me from her shame?

  Not just then, but now. Had I not changed enough, grown up enough, that even now, it took her home being broken into, her life being threatened, before she felt like she could tell me?

  “Breathe, man, breathe,” I hear Ram’s voice remind me.

  All I can do is shake my head.

  The person I loved most in the world, I failed.

  I drop my head into my hands, and there’s a deafening pounding in my skull. I couldn’t save her from the past, but I’ll be fucking damned if I ever let anything happen to her from here on out.

  I push myself up, this time I couldn’t care less that the world under my feet is crumbling. I’ve going to make this right.

  “Where are you going, man?” Ram shouts after me.

  To the past, buddy. To the past.

  Twenty-eight

  Him

  She looks so peaceful.

  Just the soft hue from the moonlight filtering through the blinds, washing over her. Watching over her.

  I know she’s safe here in Kaine’s apartment. He’s about as paranoid as they come and his place is a fortress. I know there’s nowhere else in the world I feel would be safer for Malynda right now.

  Not even with me.

  Her breathing is slow but steady in her deep sleep. I reach over and brush a hair off her cheek, and she doesn’t even stir.

  My sweet, beautiful girl.

  She looks so peaceful, but all I can see is the trauma she’s been through.

  My breath catches in my throat as the image replays in my mind of her terrified, fighting the assault, running for her life.

  And the shame, the shame that followed.

  She was in trouble.

  And I wasn’t there to save her.

  Yes, I know all about shame.

  I lean over and brush a kiss on her forehead. This time, her breath quickens and her eyelashes flutter against her cheek, then still.

  “I’m sorry, my love,” I whisper. I tiptoe out of the room and close the door silently behind me.

  Twenty-nine

  Her

  It's definitely morning the next time I open my eyes. And my stomach rumbles.

  The water jug by the side of my bed is magically full again, and I smile; Jade really is the perfect hostess. My arms lift themselves high up into the air and my spine cracks a little as I stretch, feeling my muscle fibers spark into life after almost a day of hibernation.

  My legs swing off the bed and I stand up, a little wobbly.

  I feel okay. I needed the sleep, but now I need to get on with my life, whatever that means, and with whom.

  I peek out the door, and a waft of sizzling bacon almost knocks me off my feet. I follow the scent like a cartoon character, my nose twitching, a white swirl of delicious smell leading me into the kitchen.

  Where a giant is standing towering over the stove.

  I freeze.

  Fight or flight?

  He turns and I don't have time to make a choice.

  "Oh, you're up. Great," he says, waving a greasy spatula at me, before turning his attention back to the sizzling pan, one that looks like a toy in his hands.

  "Um, hi."

  "Sit down. Juice or coffee?"

  I don't know why, but I obey, sitting down at the stool on the kitchen island. Okay, I do know why, it's because I don't think it would take much for him to turn me into a sausage link cooking on that frying pan of his.

  "Um, coffee, please."

  He spins around, and it's only then that I notice he's wearing an apron. One of Jade's aprons specifically, judging by the thin ruffle and lily pattern. It barely covers a third of his front and the ties dangle on the sides, unable to meet around his waist. He stares at me for a moment and pours a glass of orange juice from the jug and slides it across the island to me.

  "Um, I'm sorry, I said coffee."

  "I know," he says, and continues staring at me.

  Weird.

  Even weirder, I feel like I should be afraid of him, but I'm not.

  "Drink," he says, finally breaking his stare to fill up two plates with the food he's cooked and come around to sit down next to me, a plate of bacon and fried eggs in front of each of us.

  I drink. The cool tart juice feels good sliding down my throat and I can feel the vitamins being absorbed into my body. There's something... different in the juice, earthy and spicy. I feel instantly more alert.

  "It's ginger, " the giant says, without my even asking, as he shovels an entire egg into his mouth. "Way better for you than coffee. Stop drinking that junk."

  "Then why did you offer it?"

  "Test," he mumbles through a mouthful of food.

  I pick up a piece of bacon and take a bite. It's hot and salty and crispy and delicious. I'm not usually big on bacon but my body is craving energy. Nothing like sizzling pork fat to provide it. The sustenance builds up my courage.

  "So, um, are you going to tell me who you are and what you're doing at Kaine and Jade's place?"

  "I'm Ram."

  Ram. The name sounds familiar. I take another sip of the juice, hoping to shock my brain into remem
bering. Ram.

  "I'm Xavier's friend."

  Ah. Yes. The bouncer.

  "Oh, okay, yes, he's told me about you."

  "Probably not as much as he's told me about you." His eyebrow twitches, but he doesn’t volunteer any more information.

  "Oh, okay. But that doesn't explain what you're doing here."

  "Xavier asked me to make sure you get around okay today. I'm here to take you wherever you need to go."

  The mention of Xavier again turns the pit of my stomach into a centrifuge, spinning until the bottom threatens to fall out. We haven't spoken since yesterday at my apartment. I have no idea what he's thinking, about me, about what I told him, about our past or our future.

  "Xavier?" I say, surprised there isn't more of a tremble in my voice. "Um, where... where is he?"

  "He'd be here himself but... um, he's taking care of some business. I'm sure he'll get in touch with you soon."

  "Oh okay," I say, but I really want to grab him by his mountainous shoulders and shake him and make him tell me everything he knows. "Well, I don't need you to babysit me, I can take care of myself."

  "Sure, whatever you say," comes the answer. "Just let me know whenever you're ready to go," he grunts as he pushes himself off his stool, carrying his empty plate to the sink.

  "I... ugh, are you always so bossy?" I whine.

  "Yes."

  "Ram!" I yell out of frustration.

  "Look. If you're thinking that either Xavier or I will let you go back to your apartment alone after what happened, then you're even stupider than I give you credit for."

  My eyes narrow at him, but he has a point.

  "What do you know, Ram?"

  "I know everything, Malynda. Now finish your breakfast. Take your time. I have nothing else to do today but keep you safe."

  He turns on the sink and drowns out any protestation I might have made.

  ***

  There's a strip of yellow tape outside my apartment door. Crime scene. It seems over the top, but I remember that Xavier was here, talking to the police. So, I guess I shouldn't expect anything less. He organized a bald 7-foot middle-aged babysitter for me, after all.

  I take a breath before I go inside.

  Jade is right.

  This is a violation. I know I can never go back to living here now.

  All I can see are his fingerprints over everything he touched. Tainting it. The air is poisoned with his breath. I catch myself holding mine as I walk through the apartment, careful not to touch anything he's touched.

  "I won't be long, I just need to grab some clothes," I say to Ram. He just nods, his lips stretched tightly over his teeth, his jaw twitching as he takes in the scene.

  They did a really good job of destroying this place. They. Huh. Him.

  I feel my stomach turn and I swallow the reflex to retch, as I always do in the handful of times I've allowed myself to think about the attack since it happened.

  "Focus," I say to myself. "Grab a bag and some clothes and let's got out of here as fast as we can." I make a mental note of some other things I will need that I will send my assistant to get. I don't want to be here a second longer than I have to.

  Ram is waiting for me outside when I emerge from the apartment, cellphone to his ear.

  "She's okay, do you want to talk to her?" I hear him ask the person on the other end. I hold my breath, but then he just taps the phone and slides it into his pocket.

  "Oh," he says, finally seeing me standing there with my suitcase. "Um, that was Xavier, he was just checking up on you. He... er, he had to go into a meeting."

  I just nod.

  I never expected anything different.

  "Where to next?" Ram says, with a forced smile.

  "Work, it's time to get back to work."

  And onto a new chapter of my life.

  ***

  "Isabella! Where have you been? You look a wreck!" Cameron exclaims as soon as I step into our office floor. The sight of his familiar and friendly face breaks through the last layer of bravado I have, and I fall into his arms, the tears bursting from my eyes like a broken hydrant.

  I can feel Ram looking behind me and I turn to him. "I'll be fine here. You don't have to stay."

  He just nods and drops the suitcase on the floor and heads back to the elevator. Something tells me he won't be far though, and I have to admit that it gives me some comfort.

  "Oh, sweetheart, what's wrong?" Cameron says, taking my hand and leading me to my office, closing the door behind us. “Why haven’t you answered any of my calls, I almost sent the police to your apartment!”

  Something about the image of the police showing up and seeing the crime scene tape makes me laugh through my tears, and it comes out in an unattractive snort.

  “Oh my god, isn’t that always the way? Police showing up when it’s too late.”

  I catch a flicker of confusion ripple across Cameron’s forehead.

  “What are you talking about?”

  I just look up at him, the full impact of what is happening crashing down on me, the sobs returning and I can’t breathe.

  “Shhh, I got you, I got you, Iz,” he coos as I fall back into his arms, the vibrations in his chest comforting me.

  It’s almost ten minutes before I can finally speak.

  “He… he’s back, Cam.”

  “Who? Who is back, honey?”

  “Him… the… my dance teacher.”

  “What?” Cameron jumps to his feet, he knows. He knows what this means to me. “How… how do you know?”

  “Yesterday, we went to my apartment…”

  “Wait, who is ‘we’?”

  “Xavier. Xavier was with me. He took me to… um, pick up some things from my apartment and when we got there, everything was trashed. It… my apartment’s just… just a mess, Cameron.” Relaying it to him is making me walk through it again. I need to get through this fast.

  “Oh, Iz. That’s horrible.”

  “Yeah, I thought… I thought it was a robbery at first but, then I found… he left a message.” I have to take a breath, reliving the shock of seeing an object from that night in my hand after all these years.

  “A message? What did it say?”

  “It said, ‘I’m back, did you miss me?’” I shudder, just saying the words. “I’m scared, Cam. I don’t ever want to go back to my apartment again.”

  “I know, don’t worry. I’m going to keep you safe. You’ll stay with me until… well, until we figure out what we need to do.”

  “I’m… staying with Jade for the moment.”

  “Well, that’s very nice but… I’ve been here with you before, remember?”

  I nod. I remember. Life is making it hard to forget.

  Cam reaches out to squeeze my hand, and in that moment I’m grateful for him, more than I ever have been. He opens his mouth to say something, but a loud shout interrupts him.

  “I’m sorry, sir!! I need you to wait outside while I call her! Sir!”

  The door flings open, and suddenly Kaine is standing in my office, Ram looming behind him.

  He nods at Cameron, before turning to me.

  “I need to know everything that’s going on. Right now.”

  Cameron jumps to his feet, hands out in front.

  “Hey, you can’t just barge in here and tell us what to do, man.”

  Kaine brushes past him and stands over me.

  “Malyn-er,… Isa… fuck it. Malynda, you need to tell me what Xavier knows about what happened with the break-in at your apartment. And we don’t have a lot of time.”

  “What, why?”

  “Because… Ram, tell ‘em.”

  “Ram?”

  “Um, Xavier just called me and told me… he told me to tell you that he’s sorry. And that he loves you.”

  The message sends a chill down my spine. Nothing ever ends well with that message.

  Kaine sits down on the couch next to me.

  “Malynda, I need to know. Remember what I said t
o you at my house the other night? About the lengths he will go to? I think he knows something about what happened to your apartment that he’s not telling me. But you need to help me and tell me. To help him.”

  Kaine’s words echo in my brain. And his mother’s words. Surely, he’s not still looking for a way to die? Not now that we’re finally back in each other’s lives?

  I look into Kaine’s eyes and I know. I would trade my shame for Xavier’s life, any second.

  “Twelve years ago, I was almost raped. The guy is back. And Xavier knows about it.”

  Kaine springs to his feet and takes my hand.

  “Come on, we’ll need to work fast then. We’ll talk more in the car.”

  Thirty

  Him

  It’s funny the information you can find when you know what you’re looking for.

  She changed her name. That was the problem, all this time. She changed her fucking name and was lost in the sea of new people coming every day to this godforsaken town, and I couldn't find her.

  Malynda. I'd been looking for Malynda. But my Malynda had died in a sea of shame and emerged as Isabella.

  But she’ll still always be Malynda to me.

  At least she was smart enough to change her name.

  It wasn’t that hard to find her attacker’s name, even twelve years after the fact. Not that hard to bribe the admissions officer at the dance school to look up her name and what classes she took and who taught them. And who wasn’t around come the next semester.

  And now here I am, in Albany, New York, standing outside a glass door with his fucking name carved into it.

  Damien Romanski Studios.

  It's funny the information you can find, when you know what you're looking for. And have a wad of cash to bribe whoever needs bribing to get it.

  I push on the door. The wind follows me in as I’m greeted with music muffled by walls.

  “Can I help you?” a young woman perched on a stool in front of the front counter asks me.

  “I’m looking for Damien.”

  “He’s um, actually, he’s just in a training session. Can you wait for about ten minutes? He doesn’t like to be disturbed.”