The Taste of Redemption

by I. A. Dice

  An old, demolished car with punctured tyres and half of its windows missing stood by the curb on double yellow lines. The air reeked of trash and urine. Male voices reached my ears a moment later. Two silhouettes emerged from the darkness. They looked about my age, beers in hand with impaired motor coordination.

  The taller of the two elbowed his friend who pulled his hoodie down to reveal a tattooed face. I pressed my back further into the wall when they approached, stopping five feet away.

  “Excuse me, love,” the tall one began, his voice slurred, but chest pushed forward, and legs far apart as if it helped him keep his balance. “Could I, by any chance, borrow a cigarette of you?”

  I exhaled slowly, reaching for the packet. “Sure.”

  The door to my right opened. Thomas walked out of the building, his pace casual, though tension was evident in his posture.

  Chase trailed close behind, considerably less confident, hands in his pockets, the long, wavy hair he let down sometime in the last half an hour surrounded his face.

  The two drunk guys glanced between Thomas and me, unsure what to do next. Before I offered them a cigarette, Thomas outstretched his hand to stop me from going anywhere near them.

  “Keep it,” he said, throwing his cigarettes for the tall guy to catch.

  “Splendid!” he exclaimed theatrically.

  The packet hit his chest and fell to the ground, landing inches away from a large puddle. He bent down one arm outstretched behind him as a counterbalance.

  “Thank you, sir. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

  The tattooed guy bobbed his head in a half-bow, half-nod, holding his hands close to his chest as if to signal they had no bad intentions, making me chuckle.

  Drunk Brits—always so polite.

  “Now,” Thomas turned to Chase when the two guys walked away, tossed from the left to the right side of the street by imaginary wind. “Apologise for coming onto her and apologise for making her feel like it was her fault you tried your luck.”

  Chase’s complexion blanched. “I’m sorry, Thomas, it was a complete misunderstanding.”

  “Not trusting my gut was a misunderstanding, Chase. Coming onto my girl was your fucking mistake. Be a man and own up to it.”

  Chase looked at me, toying with the lip piercing. “I’m sorry, Nadia. Thomas is right, I took a chance, but it was in no way your fault. It was just a spur of the moment, stupid decision.”

  “I’m not mad, just surprised. I thought we were friends, and I don’t understand where you got the idea that I wanted more.”

  “We are friends,” he insisted.

  “Not anymore you’re not,” Thomas cut in. “Don’t mistake your nose not bleeding for my understanding.” He turned to me and pressed a kiss to my head. “Go back inside. This is your night; enjoy it. I’ll catch up with you in a minute.”

  Chase inched toward me as if to grab my hand and apologise more, but he must have reconsidered, sensing impending doom if he chose to touch me in front of Thomas.

  Good call.

  I pushed the metal door open, welcoming the warmth. Amelia hooked her elbow in mine the moment I emerged from a short corridor that lead to the back exit. She led me toward the centre of the room, muttering under her breath in a hushed voice.

  “What’s going on? Thomas looked pissed off just now. I thought he was going to hit Chase.”

  “He tried to kiss me.”

  She stopped. “Are you serious?!”

  “Keep it down. Yes, I’m serious. It was a misunderstanding, though.”

  “Excuse me, miss.” An older gentleman approached, dressed in jeans and a smart shirt with a bright red scarf casually twisted around his neck. “I’ve been told you’re the artist who painted those amazing pieces. I just bought a couple, and I would kindly like to ask for a written dedication at the back of the canvases if possible.”

  “Of course. Should I make it out to anyone in particular?”

  “Yes,” he outstretched his hand. “Cyrus Cox.”

  Amelia held her breath beside me, recognising the name immediately. It took me a little longer to realise who the elegant man was—a TV producer responsible for Mel’s favourite soap operas.

  “I’ve got to say, you’re extraordinarily talented for such a young age. Your art speaks volumes while still leaving room for interpretation. I’m particularly fond of this piece,” he gestured to a large puppeteer painting, similar to the one that used to hang in my apartment but was now the central feature of Thomas’s living room. Our living room.

  “That’s one of my favourites, too,” Thomas appeared next to me, shaking Cyrus’s hand. “Thomas Calix. How about I give you a little insight into the creative background behind this piece?”

  I was ready to oppose, considering the idea behind all the art in the room was Adrian’s abuse, but Amelia squeezed my hand, and waited for Thomas to wander away with Cyrus before she spoke.

  “Trust him here. He could sell a gun to a pacifist, babe. He’ll make you rich and famous, you just wait.”

  Twenty minutes later, Thomas returned long enough to tell me that Cyrus bought two more pieces. Then, off he went, mingling with the crowd, selling my art without ever asking anyone to buy. He could easily talk a Scotsman out of a penny.

  I overheard him a few times, interpreting the paintings in his own way and comparing me to the big names. It wasn’t about the money tonight. Thomas was focused on making a name for me.

  He found me an hour later, and immediately took my hand, lacing our fingers. “Your mother is here. She just arrived.”

  I glanced in the direction of the foyer, my palms damp. Karen stood out of the way wearing a tight-fitting blue dress, talking to my brother and Amelia. The day of their wedding was supposed to be the last time I had to endure her presence.

  They exchanged a few sentences, and Karen walked in further, her eyes darting from wall to wall, taking in the exhibition. Nick joined me and Thomas, letting Karen wander around.

  “You had no right to invite her here,” I seethed dabbing a finger into his chest. “Show her the door or I will.”

  “Stop acting like a spoilt brat,” Nick hissed. “She’s your mother. Do you think Mel would treat her parents like this if they suddenly showed up even though they abandoned her?”

  “I don’t care what Mel would do,” I whisper-shouted. “This is me. This is my life, and you don’t get to decide what’s best for me!”

  He scoffed, then fake-smiled at someone passing by. The smile slipped as soon as he looked back at me.

  “She made a mistake, Nadia. You should know a thing or two about that. It’s time to forgive. I told her about Adrian, too. She calls twice a day to check up on you. She loves you, and she’s worried. Give her a chance to prove it!”

  Karen rounded one of the large pillars that held the ceiling in the vast space. Tears danced in her eyes, a look of utter helplessness on her face. I didn’t want it to affect me, but it would be a lie if I said it didn’t. Nick had a point—she was my mother. Deep down I understood that Dad’s heart attack wasn’t her fault. He had a stressful job and underlying heart problems. When he passed away, Karen became an outlet for my anger and sense of injustice. I projected the negative emotions onto her, letting the hatred deepen over the years.

  Nick was right about something else, too. I knew a thing or two about making mistakes and yearning for forgiveness.

  Karen’s mistake was incomparable to mine. She slept with Nick’s friend during my eighteenth birthday party. She didn’t do it out of love or spite—neither were good enough reasons, but they were at least plausible reasons to cheat on her husband. It was a moment of weakness with catastrophic consequences. Her mistake started a chain of events that were the root of all my issues.

  If she hadn’t cheated on Dad, adding more stress to his life, maybe he would still be alive. If he was, I wouldn’t have moved to New York to avoid looking at Nick—Dad’s carbon copy. I would have never met Adrian, and…

 
; We’re dealing with the past here. There’s no changing it; and channelling your efforts into producing hundreds of scenarios as to how things would’ve played out if you changed one detail is a waste of time.

  James’s words echoed in my head.

  The past couldn’t be controlled. Wishing for a do-over was a waste of time. Instead of focusing on what couldn’t be recovered, I should have been focusing on making sure the past wouldn’t ruin my future.

  Karen came closer, clutching a small handbag with both hands, looking out of place.

  “Hey, sweetie,” she said, uncertain of how to act, but determined to look me in the eyes. “Thank you for letting me stay. The art… Its breath-taking. I’m proud of you, Nadia.”

  Thomas squeezed my hand tighter but remained quiet, saving me by leaving me in control.

  “Thank you. Are you staying with Nick?”

  Her eyes glistened, and she nodded, glancing at my brother. “Just for a couple of days. I’m leaving on Monday.”

  “Can we all go out for lunch tomorrow?” I asked Nick.

  My first thought was to ask Karen out to a coffee shop, but it was too soon for mother-daughter bonding time. Nick, Mel and Thomas would make the experience less awkward, filling the silence that was bound to ring in our ears more than once.

  “Sounds like a plan. I’ll book us a table somewhere nice.”

  Amelia smiled, taking the reins. “We should wrap this up. It’s almost ten o’clock, anyway. Do you want us to help or can we go back home?”

  “You can go,” Thomas said, speaking for the first time in fifteen minutes. “I’ll take care of the paperwork.”

  “First, I need to talk to you about something,” Nick told him, and pecked my cheek. “I’ll give him right back, promise.”

  I shooed them away, glancing at the walls, smiling wider and wider with each red dot stuck on the wall next to my painting. I had to pinch myself just to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.

  Thomas came back moments later and ignoring the few people that remained in the room, he cupped my face, devouring my mouth. Intimate kisses that weren’t part of foreplay were my favourites. The stroke of his fingers on my cheek; his tongue teasing my bottom lip; the way he deepened the kiss slowly, as if he had all the time in the world…

  Best. Kisses. Ever.

  “I’ve never been prouder of you,” he said, pulling away. “I think it was the right thing to do for you and for Karen.”

  “Nick has a point,” I admitted. “It doesn’t mean she’s forgiven, but I’ll give her a chance to work for it.”

  “One step at a time, baby doll.”

  Soon, the booth staff closed the door behind the last person, and after a lot of business jargon between them and Thomas, we walked outside where the rain was pouring for the millionth time that day.

  CHAPTER 25

  THOMAS

  Play God

  It was eight o’clock in the morning on Friday when Nick arrived at my house. He rested his back on the Range Rover, fiddling with his keys.

  The muscles in my shoulders were tense for forty hours now, constantly on the lookout for the son-of-a-bitch who abused my girl. Nick told me at Nadia’s vernissage that Adrian checked out of rehab. According to Ty, the elaborate mental fucking Adrian went through at the rehab facility was too much for him to take.

  I hadn’t left Nadia alone for five minutes since. It was irrational at first, considering that Adrian was eight thousand miles away. Ty ensured Nick that Adrian came back to live with him. Despite wanting to contact Nadia, he listened to Ty and stayed put.

  That was until last night, when Ty called to say Adrian was gone. We had no way of knowing where he went, but I could feel it in my bones that he was on his way to apologise and beg Nadia for forgiveness.

  He truly was fucking suicidal if he thought he could arrive in London and leave unscathed. There were no lines I wouldn’t cross to keep Nadia safe.

  “Do you think he’s coming here?” Nick asked, then shook his head dismissing the question. “Of course, you do. What now? Should we call the police?”

  “And say what? Nadia never pressed charges. They won’t do shit,” I took a drag of my cigarette, resting my back on the BMW. “We wait.”

  Nick roughed his hair, frowning. “How long? What if he doesn’t come? We have to do something to keep him away for good; we can’t live like this. Nadia should press charges, and he should rot in jail.”

  If only it were that easy.

  “That won’t happen. He won’t get more than two years. It’s not worth putting Nadia through the stress, even if she would agree to testify. We both know she won’t. She believes he can change.” I took another drag. “When he comes here, he’ll either go to her apartment or come to you. When he shows up, you call me straight away.”

  Nick bobbed his head. “Should we tell Nadia?”

  That was a question I was obsessing over all night. There were many reasons against it, and only one in favour. It won.

  “I’ll tell her later. I don’t plan on letting her out of my sight until this is over, but if she knows Adrian might be coming, she won’t make it difficult.”

  “Good point. I’ll tell Amelia. I wish he would just stay away.”

  I didn’t. I wanted him to come. I wanted to skin the fucker.

  “Let him come, and I’ll make sure it’s the last time he tries to get in touch with Nadia.”

  Nick cringed. “I’ve seen him fight, Thomas. Sorry to say, but I don’t think you can take him on.”

  Thanks, mate.

  Granted, I was at a disadvantage. Adrian was taller, broader, stronger and a pro. The vital difference between us? I had no scruples.

  Plus, no one said I had to play fair.

  We weren’t in the olden days, and the fucker sure didn’t deserve a gentleman’s duel. No holds barred.

  Nadia was the most important person in my life. She was the girl who breathed life into me, and she was the girl who showed me the way and pulled me out of the numbness. There wasn’t much I wouldn’t do for her and massacring Adrian’s face was a piece of cake.

  Adrian wasn’t around yet, but the adrenaline pumping through my veins at the mere thought of serving the fucker some justice could have annihilated a small city.

  But just in case…

  “Good thing you and Scorpio have my back.”

  “Always,” Nick patted my shoulder, and opened the car door. “Are still on for the concert tonight?”

  “Sure. Nadia’s looking forward to it.”

  The door to the house stood open, and Nadia looked around, wrapped in a red, silk robe.

  “You better go,” Nick said, waving at his sister. “I’ll see you later.”

  “It’s a bit early for a friendly chit-chat, isn’t it?” Nadia cocked an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

  We entered the warm house and made our way into the kitchen. The half-full cup of coffee I left on the counter had gone cold. I turned the coffee machine on, watching Nadia tie the robe tighter.

  “Ty called a couple of days ago and again last night,” I began, watching her every move, trying to read her mind. “Adrian checked out of rehab, and since yesterday, he’s nowhere to be found.”

  Nadia stared at me, her eyes no longer glowing. She swallowed hard, and bit on her cheek.

  “You think he’s coming here.”

  “I’m sure he is, baby doll. He’s not getting to you, I promise.”

  She slid off the stool and came closer, pressing herself to my body.

  “I thought he could make it work this time.”

  This time and too many times before. Adrian was a lost cause; he was self-destructive. I gripped her shoulders and pushed her away to look into her eyes.

  “Adrian’s not your responsibility, Nadia. You can’t keep trying to help him. He obviously doesn’t want help. He sure doesn’t deserve it, either. Let him make his own decisions.”

  She pressed her lips to mine for a short, affectionate kiss, then wriggl
ed a little until my hold on her loosened. She grabbed her phone from the counter, tapping on the screen before she pressed it to her ear.

  “Hey, Ty. Can I put you on speaker? Thomas is here with me.”

  She tapped on the screen again, then placed the phone on the breakfast bar.

  “Hey, Ty,” I said, handing Nadia a cup of coffee.

  “Hey, man. How’s it going?” he asked, sounding tired.

  “Not bad, although I would be better if I knew where Adrian was right about now.”

  Nadia brushed her hair away from her face with trembling hands. It was killing me to know that Adrian’s actions still affected her so much.

  “Why did he bail on rehab?” she asked. “Is he using again?”

  “No, he’s clean for now. He told me a bit about the therapy there, and to be honest I can’t blame him for bailing. I’m surprised the place is still operational. I’m sure the shit they do there is illegal.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I cut in, not letting him explain.

  Nadia didn’t need the details; she didn’t need to worry about Adrian any more than she already was.

  “Better tell me if he mentioned coming to see Nadia. How long has he been missing now?”

  “About eighteen hours. He didn’t say anything about flying over to see Nadia, but where else could he go? Unless he’s out getting high, I think it’s safe to assume he’s on his way to London.”

  Nadia shuddered when Ty mentioned drugs. I stood behind her, pulling her back to my chest. She exhaled a shaky breath, and her hands stopped trembling. I saw her calm down at the touch of my body a hundred times before, but it never ceased to amaze me that I didn’t have to do or say anything to help her control her emotions.

  “Don’t worry, okay?” Nadia said. “I’ll let you know if he shows up.”

  Ty scoffed. “It’s not him I worry about, girl. It’s you.”

  “No need,” she said, covering my palm with hers. “Thomas is here.”

  I kissed the top of her head. “Adrian’s not getting to Nadia, Ty. That I can promise.”