Behind Your Back

by Chelsea M. Cameron

  Twenty

  We sit on the bench for what feels like hours. Until night drapes over us like a blanket and the stars come out. We’re in the city, so you can barely see them with all the light pollution, but still. You know they’re there in the sky.

  “I thought I was going to feel different, but maybe it’s because I thought he was dead all those years,” he says after a long silence.

  “How do you feel?” I ask.

  “I feel like this is happening to someone else. That I’m an actor in my own life. I’m used to playing someone else. Being myself isn’t easy.” I know how he feels. I think it’s one of the reasons we work so well together as a couple. If I was just a regular girl, with a regular past, he’d always be hiding his other life and eventually it would break the relationship apart.

  “I know what you mean,” I say and I lean toward him. He puts his arm around me and I bring my feet up on the bench.

  “I told Lo I was going to call her. She saw my face after I talked to Dad. She didn’t ask me for the details, but she definitely knows I have things that I don’t tell her.” Things that I can’t tell her.

  “She’s smart, that Lo,” he says, his fingers playing with my hair.

  “I know. I should have known she’d figure it out. I’m a good liar, but Lo is good at spotting lies.” Whenever there’s a celebrity scandal, she always says she knew all along. I ask her how she knows and she just says she gets a feeling. That always makes me roll my eyes at her.

  “But she didn’t demand that I tell her and I hope she won’t. I think she was worried I was involved in criminal activity and my body was going to show up in a ditch somewhere or something.” I’m sure she went to the worst-case scenario first.

  “You could tell her. At least some of it.” I shake my head.

  “No, I really can’t. Because then I’d have to tell her about Dad and that’s not going to happen.” There’s no way out of it without hurting someone.

  “Are you going to come with me to talk to my dad tomorrow?” I ask. I hate to bring him up. He’s always going to be a hard subject for us. Especially now that I know he wants to take Lizzy away from Sylas. We are definitely going to have a chat about that. I’m not going to let that slide. No fucking way.

  The storm seems to have passed for the moment.

  “Your pants are disgusting,” I say, pointing to a spot of grease on them.

  “I know. I just didn’t have the energy to put new ones on or do any laundry,” he says.

  “I’ll do a wash when we get back, but not until after you’ve taken a shower.” I sniff him and plug my nose. Sylas never smells bad, even when he’s covered in sweat. He always smells good to me.

  “Sure, I’ll take a shower, as long as you join me.” Fair enough. That’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.

  We have fun getting clean and I force Sylas to put on another thin white t-shirt and a clean pair of sweats. I’ve been neglecting my own laundry, so I do three loads in the little washer hidden inside a closet right outside my bedroom.

  “I like the way you look in that shirt, yes I do,” I say as he hands me the bowl of popcorn. It’s another movie night. We’re putting quite a dent in our digital movie queue. I don’t mind staying at home and watching movies with him. I like doing everything with Sylas. But I think we need to start getting out more. Tonight was definitely proof of that.

  “You want to come to the gym with me this weekend? I really need to start working out again.” I used to just go to my parents’ house and use theirs, but I don’t want to be in that house as much anymore.

  “Sure. There’s a gym in the building where my other apartment is, if you want to use that one. It’s private and quiet and top of the line.”

  “Sounds good,” I say as he settles back on the couch and I lay out lengthwise on top of him.

  I pictured this going completely differently than it has, but at least it’s been a pleasant surprise.

  My phone rings and I realize I never called Lo. Shit. She’s probably going to read me the riot act.

  “Hey, I’m so sorry. Things are fine. I was just… tired and I forgot to call you back,” I say in a rush. She sighs.

  “I swear, you’re giving me grey hairs over here, Saige. Grey fucking hairs that I’m going to have to dye.” She’s being melodramatic, as usual, but at least I know she wasn’t worrying too much.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Things turned out fine, actually. False alarm. All is well.” I sit up and smile at Sylas. He brushes my hair over my shoulder and I can barely stand the way he looks at me. I’ve always wanted someone to look at me like he does, and sometimes, it’s too much. Too much to handle, too much responsibility, too much love, if that’s possible.

  “Are you absolutely sure?” she says.

  “Yes. I'm fine. I’m really sorry I freaked you out. I can’t really give you details and I’m sorry. My life… it’s a long story and my secrets don’t just belong to me. If I told you everything, I’d be hurting other people.” Sylas just watches me as I talk to Lo and I know he understands. It’s why he hadn’t made any deep connections with people before me. And I guess we sort of tricked each other into love.

  “What’s so funny?” Lo says.

  “Nothing. My mind was just wandering. Listen, I want to have a redo on tonight. I have tests all next week, but I’m free on Friday afternoon and I’ll be all yours. We could go shoe shopping and have dinner. How does that sound?”

  “Good deal. Just as long as there are no crises that come up.”

  “No promises, but I’ll see what I can do.” I can tell she’s smiling and I’m forgiven.

  “I’d really love to know what your secrets are, Saige, but I’m not going to force you to tell me. I’ll love you even if you have to hide things from me.” There aren’t a lot of people who would be willing to do that, and I’m lucky we decided to be friends.

  “Thank you, Lo. That means so much. You have no idea.”

  “I know. I’m a wonderful friend. You’re very lucky to have me.” I laugh.

  “Yeah, yeah. Okay, I’ll talk to you later. Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  I end the call and shake my head.

  “Everything good?” Sylas asks.

  “Yeah. I’m lucky she’s so cool with everything.” I set the phone on the coffee table and lay back down across him.

  “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have friends on the outside. I never thought it could work. You’d always have that guilt for not telling them.”

  “I do have guilt, but I can live with it. If I was hiding my life from you, that would be something else entirely. I don’t think I could do it.” I definitely know I couldn’t do it in that case.

  “I know. In a way I’m glad you’re not who I thought you were. Things turned out good, in the end.” I smile and kiss the spot right where his heart beats beneath skin and bone and muscle.

  “Fate,” I say.

  He scoffs.

  “Luck.”

  We’re going to have to agree to disagree on that.

  I’m ripped awake by Sylas shaking my shoulder.

  “Saige! Saige! Wake up, it’s okay.” My eyes fly open. I’m gasping for air and my cheeks are wet with tears. Another nightmare.

  “I’m okay,” I say, putting my hand on my chest where my heart is racing so fast, it’s like I’ve been running for my life.

  “Do you remember anything?” Sylas says, pulling my sweaty body into his warm one. It helps ground me and suck me out of the terror of the nightmare.

  I’m about to say no, but then there’s a quick flash. Something… I reach for it and pull out of the back of my head. It’s like trying to hold onto a wiggling, slippery thing. The harder I hold onto it, the more it struggles to get away. Just a little… there. THERE.

  “Dark. It’s… dark. The trunk of a car?” I only see a dark enclosed space, but somehow I know it’s the trunk of a car.

  “Were you trapped in t
he trunk of a car?” he asks but the nightmare skitters apart and is gone. But it’s more than I’ve remembered, ever. It’s a start. If I got that, maybe I can get more.

  “I don’t… know. Maybe? I just know I was in one.” I feel like I should write this down so I don’t forget it.

  Sylas brushes my sweaty hair out of my face. I need to change my clothes since my shirt and shorts are soaked with sweat.

  “I’ll be right back,” I say and grab some clothes before going to the bathroom and using a washcloth to wipe myself down before I get dressed again. I wash my face and wince at the blotchiness in my cheeks. I hate crying. After I splash some cold water on my face, I go and get back into bed with Sylas. He holds me tight, as if to protect me from diving into the nightmare again. As if he has the power to do that.

  “I’m okay,” I say as I close my eyes and attempt to sleep again.

  I don’t know what time Dad is getting home from Texas, but I figure if I’m there when he gets back, he can’t avoid talking to me. Sylas and I are silent and grim when we get ready to head over in the morning.

  I put in my septum ring and flip it down, just in case I see my mother. Riling her up will make me feel better.

  “If you’re trying to distract me, then it’s working,” Sylas says, reaching out a finger and tapping my septum ring gently. For some reason I always feel more myself when I have this bit of metal in my nose.

  “That wasn’t my intention, but I guess it’s a side benefit,” I say. “I’m hoping I see my mother and she sees it. I know it’s juvenile to bait her like this, but I can’t seem to stop.” If I didn’t rile her up, she might not even notice me. In some deep part of my brain, I know even negative attention from my mother is good. Maybe I should sign myself up for therapy too.

  Sylas hasn’t talked about it further, but I’m definitely going to push him to do it. I know it will be good for him. Maybe if I offer to go with him that will make him more inclined to go. Hell, I’d trade sexual favors for therapy sessions. I’m not above doing that.

  “Ready?” I say as he fiddles with the sleeves on his t-shirt. I’m not going to point out that he’s exposing his tattoos today. I’m not sure if he’s even aware anymore he’s doing it.

  “Sure,” he says, taking a deep breath and then smiling at me.

  “If you need to leave, or feel yourself getting panicky, let me know and I’ll get you out of there, okay?” I say, putting my arms around his waist and looking up at him.

  “Will do,” he says, and I tilt my face up for a kiss.

  Dad isn’t back when we get to the house, but my mother is lazing in the den when I walk in the door.

  “Saige, I didn’t know you were coming over. You should have called,” she says, not getting up or putting down her wineglass. She’s probably going to be passed out in less than an hour.

  I give Sylas a face and walk into the room.

  “I’m here to see Dad. Well, both of us are,” I say and she looks up and sees Sylas. Her eyes zero in on his tattoos and then on my nose, going back and forth and back and forth, her eyes getting wider and wider. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying the change in expression.

  She sputters and then turns away and back to her wine.

  “I’m not going to talk to you with that thing in your face. Go take it out and then we can chat.”

  “Yeah, I’m not going to do that,” I say, smirking. “Nice try, though.” I turn on my heel and leave the room, Sylas trailing after me. He doesn’t look embarrassed at all, which I absolutely love.

  “You really know how to push her buttons,” he says.

  “Hey, you’re the one who wore short sleeves,” I say, pointing it out. He looks down.

  “I guess I just forgot,” he says and I can tell he’s being truthful. He’s getting more and more comfortable being himself. That makes me so happy.

  “Come on, let’s hang out in the office and wait.” I can bring up the surveillance cameras and we can watch for when he pulls in the driveway. Sylas nods and follows me.

  It’s a quick job to get the footage up and running.

  “Do you have this all over the house?” he asks, looking over my shoulder.

  “Yes. Well, except for the bedrooms. I do not need to see any video of my parents in bed.” Not that they do anything. I’m pretty sure they only had sex once, and that was to produce me.

  “That’s probably wise,” he says as I flick through the other cameras in the house. Mom’s still sipping her wine and staring off into space.

  Now we wait.

  An hour later, I’m up and pacing the room. Sylas is sitting in Dad’s chair, flipping through the surveillance cameras.

  “He’s here,” he says. I take a breath.

  “Are you ready?”

  He shakes his head.

  “No, but I don’t think I’ll ever be. I just want this to be done.” I want that for him too, but I don’t think it will ever be done. You don’t get over something like this. You just learn how to live with it.

  We’re out of the office and heading for the front door when Dad walks in.

  I nearly gasp.

  It hasn’t been that long since I saw him last and he looks like he’s aged ten years. He’s thin and haggard and stooped, like his back is hurting.

  “Dad?” I say and he looks up. Dark circles are carved under his eyes, so blue against his skin.

  “Saige,” he says, blinking at me. He drops his suitcase and Mom comes out to give him a cold kiss on the cheek and pretend she gives a shit that he’s home. They share a whispered conversation and she takes his bag and starts going upstairs. I know it’s a dummy bag. The real stuff he brought with him, weapons and so forth, are still in the car and will be put back in their hidden places within the house my mother doesn’t know about.

  Martha bustles out, asking him he needs tea or food or anything.

  “No, thank you. I just need to go to my office,” he says, giving her a weak smile.

  Sylas is rigid beside me. His eyes haven’t left Dad’s face, but Dad can’t seem to look at Sylas. Martha heads back to the kitchen to make a tray of food and drinks anyway. Dad sighs.

  “Let’s go to my office and I’ll debrief you,” he says wearily. I let him lead the way and every step he takes looks like it hurts him. What has he been through?

  He crashes into his office chair and then rests his head in his hands as if his neck is too tired to hold it up anymore.

  I lock the door and sit down on one of the leather chairs. Sylas takes the other and we wait for him to start. Silence is thick in the room, clogging my lungs. Sylas is breathing heavily next to me.

  “Is he dead,” he says, and it’s not a question. It’s a demand.

  Dad lifts his head.

  “Yes. He’s dead.” He pulls something out of his pocket and tosses it at Sylas. It’s a tiny flash drive. “That has pictures. We got him with the long-range and then went in and got the body. It’s been disposed of.” He doesn’t elaborate on the method of disposal, but I know he’s got people working for him who know how to hide a body and make sure it’s never found. They’ve done it before and they can do it again without blinking.

  Sylas takes the flash drive and turns it over and over in his hands.

  “If you want the full details, they’re in there. I just have one request. That you destroy all the evidence after you’ve read it. If you share it with anyone, I’ll know.” He doesn’t even need a threat. Sylas knows what my father is capable of. More so than I do, apparently.

  “I will,” Sylas says quietly, still staring at the flash drive.

  Dad turns his attention to me.

  “You haven’t been around much, Saige,” he says and I wish Sylas wasn’t here right now.

  “I know. I’ve been busy. Next week is finals.” He knows that.

  “Right, right,” he says and I feel a rift opening between us. Dad and I have always understood one another on a very deep level. I trusted him and he trusted me (or at le
ast I thought he did) and I relied on him more than anyone else. He was the one constant in my life.

  But not anymore. I don’t need to lean on him. It’s time I stand on my own.

  “I don’t want to work for you anymore. And I want you to let Sylas go.” I didn’t mean to say it exactly that way, but that’s how it comes out.

  Dad gapes at me. I guess I’ve surprised him. Sylas stops spinning the flash drive in his hands next to me.

  “I’m not sure what you’re saying, Saige.” His shock wears off in a fraction of a second and now his eyes are narrowing. He’s moving from shocked to pissed. Fine, I can deal with that. I’m pissed too.

  “I want to have my own life. I don’t want to lie and sneak around anymore. I don’t want to keep secrets. I want to finish school and travel and look at art and do what I want,” I say. I don’t let my eyes leave his face as I speak. I need to know what his naked reaction is.

  His face changes so fast I can’t even latch onto one single emotion except for one I’ve never seen him give me, but I’ve seen him give it to other people.

  Betrayal.

  I’ve been his companion, his protégé my whole life and now I’m throwing it back in his face. All his work to make me like him and I don’t want it.

  “Would you excuse us, Sylas?” Dad says, finally looking away from me.

  “No,” I say. “Whatever you say to me, he can be here for. Besides, this concerns him.” If I’m really being honest, I want Dad to release all of them. I’ve never met the rest of his team, but they should be free to do what they want.

  “I’d really rather discuss it with just the two of us,” Dad says slowly and carefully. If this were a few months ago, I would have backed down. I’d have deferred to his experience and age and the fact that he’s my father. Not anymore. It’s time I took control of my life.

  “No,” I say, crossing my arms. “I love you, but it has to stop. I’m your daughter, not your minion.” Another bolt of betrayal shoots across his features.

  “I know you’re not my minion, Saige. Why are you doing this? What is this about?” He’s not hearing me.