“Get out of here!” he yells. “And Pope, what the fuck?”
“What the fuck?” he repeats. “Is that all you have to say to me now as you’re beating a dude up on a roof?”
“You know why this is happening. You need to unbutton that shirt of yours and remember you’re a Carter.”
“Sure,” Pope answers, stepping closer to his brother. “Let’s both get arrested for assault and about ten other criminal charges, get convicted, and go to jail. It’ll be a nice stamp on the resumé to lose a multi-million dollar company because both CEO’s went to prison. We’ll make all the papers.”
“There you go again, always thinking of business. But this thing with Draven and me has nothing to do with some board room fight—it never did.”
“Then what?” Pope asks. “What’s worth risking our business, our future, and your freedom for?”
I know the answer, he just screamed it loud enough for anyone close enough to hear, and it frightens me. He isn’t here because of what’s been happening with his building, he’s here because of me.
I step forward. “Lucien, that’s all in the past. Come on, we need to get out of here before this goes too far and someone gets permanently hurt.”
Draven sits up. He doesn’t look good. “Listen to the lady, tough guy. She has more sense than you.”
Shut up, you idiot, I’m trying to save your life.
Lucien hits him again and I flinch. I thought boys fighting was scary. Grown men fighting is even scarier. “Lucien, stop. It isn’t worth it.”
“This bastard stole from me, Lyric. No one fucking steals from me.”
“Stole what?” I yell. “A building that isn’t up yet?”
“No,” he says. “He stole our future. He stole our time together. He stole everything we could have been, and he paid no consequences for it.”
I knew this was about me—about how I reacted to him telling me why he had to leave. He thinks I blame him, and I get it, I reacted like I was mad at him, but now he’s taking that pain out on Draven.
I step closer. Everything in my body wants to walk away from what I’m seeing, but I do the opposite because I can’t lose him again. I just can’t.
“He didn’t steal anything, because we’re here now, you understand? Yeah, we lost time, but I think we’ve more than made up for it, don’t you?” He doesn’t answer, just looks at me with residual anger and hurt in his beautiful face. “I’m not mad, Lucien, do you hear me? I know I stormed out when you told me the truth, and I’m sorry, but I needed time to process. I know that you had to go—I understand now, and it wasn’t your fault. It doesn’t change anything we’ve built together since you’ve been back.” I see his face start to soften. “But you have to stop this before you really rob us of a future. You need to open those fists and walk over here to me. Leave that piece of shit on the ground where he belongs.”
I wait. My body is as tense as it’s ever been. I’m waiting for something terrible to happen. Lucien still looks like an uncaged animal—frenzied and full of rage. I understand. But I’m hoping my voice can guide him to redemption.
It seems like an eternity, but he finally fully turns to face me, and takes the most important step he’s ever taken in his life—a step towards a real future for us.
He grabs onto me and squeezes so hard it hurts in the best way possible. In his touch, I feel the emotion his mouth is incapable of expressing. In his squeeze, I hear all the words I’ve ever wanted to hear from him. And most importantly, he’s safe and with me now.
“I thought I’d lost you—again.”
“Never,” I tell him, pulling his head down and kissing him gently. “You have more than forever. I’m yours.”
Just then Draven stands up. Over Lucien’s shoulder I see him, and he has something in his hand. It looks like a rock or something he must have picked up from the ground. He starts to lunge towards us. “Lucien! Behind you!” But there’s no time. Draven’s too close. Just as he reaches his hand behind him to strike at Lucien, a body takes him to the ground like something out of a Marvel movie.
It’s Pope.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
Lucien looks at his brother. “Good looking out, bro.”
“The Carters take care of each other. You think you’re the only one who misses scrapping?” Lucien smiles. “Now take her and get out of here.”
“Pope,” I say. “What if he tries to press charges, or what if. . .”
“Lyric, we never really got to know each other that well, but I’m a fan. You’re good for my brother and you’re a cool chick. So it’s with all the love in the world when I say get the fuck out of here now. I’ve got this.”
“Come on,” Lucien says, pulling me away. “He can handle himself. There’s no one in this world I trust more than my brother.”
“The Pope of Arkham County,” I joke. That’s what kids used to call him.
“Just remember a Pope is more powerful than a Preacher. Now go.”
We go. I take my man and we make a very scary climb down. And when we hit the ground I think about how much Lucien’s impacted my life. I just broke up a fight that most likely would have ended in someone’s death after climbing the fire escape of an abandoned building. Life is strange sometimes, in the best way possible.
As we walk to his parked car, I point out, “You know what I was just thinking?”
“That my rugged display of dominance has you so wet that you need to have me in the next hour?”
“Well, duh. But that’s not it.”
“What then?”
“You still owe me one more date.”
He smiles. “You’re right. And you know a Carter always pays his debts.”
He unlocks his car and we get in. “Where to?”
Our future.
Forty-Nine—Pope
The Present
Some people don’t know when to give up.
Occasionally that’s out of toughness. In this case, it’s out of stupidity. Of course they’re not mutually exclusive traits.
Since I laid a few more shots on him all he’s done is threaten to sue, threaten to tell daddy, blah, blah, blah. I’m going to have to make a lasting impression on him.
“As soon as this gets into the news, you’re done. Both of you—you and your bitch brother will be in jail and my family will own your company.”
I can’t keep my cheeks from going up. “I don’t think any of that is going to happen, Draven. Sorry to burst that bubble.”
“Oh yeah? And why not?”
“Easy.” I kneel down next to him. He’s too messed up to do anything crazy like before. Maybe I can reason with him in a language he seems to speak fluently—the language of threats.
“Because, on the way here, after we figured out that my brother was coming after you for more than just the fight against our project, Lyric shared some interesting screen shots with me.”
He spits on the ground. “So what?”
“These particular screen shots are of texts you sent to her after some drama at a party or something. Apparently, you kissed her without her consent, got a friend to take pics of her when she was underaged, and then distributed them to a few hundred kids so they could fuck with her.” I think about what I just said, and hearing it out loud makes him sound like an even bigger prick. “God, you’re an asshole. But we knew that already. My point is a legal one. See, those are all crimes, my man. Bad ones, especially now in the era of #metoo. Forcing sexual encounters on underaged girls—that’s going to look worse in the media than some bullshit assault charge you’re thinking of filing, trust me.”
“Don’t even try that shit. The statute of limitations for whatever that would be—and it was just some fucking kiss—are long over.”
“You’re right on that part. But not about the second part.”
“The pics? Come on—that’s all you got?”
“Turns out—and I checked on the way here—that since Lyric was underage at the time, and give
n the amount of people you sent her pics to, not to mention that Insta handle @lyricstits—that all falls nicely under the language for ‘distribution of child pornography’ under New York State law.” His eyes widen like I intended them to. “Now that—that’s going to stick. Not just for you, but for your father’s company. Having a son his clients can look up with a few clicks on the state’s sex offender’s registry is a bad look for his board of directors.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
I laugh. It’s time Draven and I got to know each other better. “See, Draven, you’ve got me all wrong. Everyone does. You see some clean-cut kid brother who looks like he stepped out a Versace catalog right? You see everything my brother isn’t. What you don’t see is that I’m a killer—in and out of the courtroom. And if you think the beating my brother laid on you was viscous, just wait and see what I’ll do to you.”
He knows I’m serious. Not because of my words, but because of how I’m saying them. It’s time he met the real me.
“Now, you’re going to dip into those very deep pockets and pay for the damage to our building, isn’t that right?”
“You think I have that kind of money?” he asks.
I get in his face. “I know you can get it—or convince your scumbag father to cough it up. I don’t really give a fuck. Make it happen, or the next Carter brother you see won’t have some screaming girl to pull him off of you—you understand me?”
He nods. That’s the only submission I need. I go back to the Pope he thinks he knows—the fake one I show to the world. “Good,” I say, sounding as cheery as Christmas morning. I stand up. “And if you even think about trying anything, remember that I have the photos. And if that doesn’t do it for you, remember this.” I turn and hit him so hard in the gut that he grunts and falls over—the wind literally shooting out of his mouth.
He knows he’s done messing with us.
He knows that he’s done with Lyric and my brother—and if he tries anything else, he’ll just be done.
He’ll remember my fists.
“Later Draven. Been a pleasure, as always. I recommend you skip any future court dates so I don’t have to do this to you again. Crawl back into your hole and forget that you ever met the boys from the East End.”
I climb down and go to my car.
Time to go home and shower.
Fifty—Lyric
The Next Day
The Preacher I remember shows up to my door tonight, looking like everything my body and mind have ever wanted.
He’s a hybrid—a blend of the eighteen-year-old punk rock fighter with the (slightly) more mature business man.
“You look good,” I tell him. My eyes travel up from his shoes to his hair, making little rest stops at a few spots on his body along the way.
“Checking me out? I’m not a piece of meat, you know?” I give him my best sarcastic face. “Alright, who am I kidding, I’m a piece of meat. Stare away. But fair warning, when you turn around I’m giving your ass a hard five second stare.”
“That’s so sexy, Lucien,” I joke. “I practically want to rip my clothes off when you say sweet things like that to me.”
“Don’t worry—plenty of time for that later,” he promises. “And then again after that. Then about an hour after that time. And then. . .”
“I get it, thanks.” I giggle a little and turn around to get my bag—but really it’s to give him his five second stare at my ass. “So where’s the restaurant? Another fancy place?”
“Actually, it’s pretty casual.”
I grab my stuff and walk with him to the door to lock up. “Oh, okay. Casual’s good, too. Is it far?”
“About an hour flight or so.”
I look at him sideways. “Flight? What are you talking about?”
“Come on.”
His driver takes us to The Carter Organization building and parks in the underground lot. “What are we doing at your company?”
“Going to the roof. Our ride awaits.”
He isn’t kidding. We go up to the roof, and that’s where the helicopter is waiting. “Lucien, what?”
“I thought maybe we’d eat at a diner tonight instead. You in? If you don’t want a romantic helicopter ride, there’s a Burger King down the block.”
I smile and we get in. I know where he’s taking me, and it makes me melt inside.
Lucien and sentiment go together about as well as chocolate covered salmon washed down with Hawaiian Punch, but this is hands down the most sentimental thing he’s ever done. Even though we were just in Arkham a few days ago, it was under very different circumstances, and we left without speaking to one another. Now we’re back at the diner where he told me he wanted me to be his girlfriend—the diner where he told me his real name.
Our diner.
“I’ve never ordered real food here before.”
“No one orders real food at a diner,” he jokes. “I’m getting coffee and pancakes. Screw the time of day.”
“I like where your head’s at,” I tell him. “I’m going to go French toast deluxe and coffee.”
“Good choice.”
We put in our orders and start drinking our coffee. Lucien looks more relaxed than I’ve seen him in a long time. I feel the same way. “I hate to spoil this romantic moment.”
“Then don’t,” he says.
“I won’t, I promise. I just wanted to ask—you don’t think our friend will run back to his father and try to get back at you somehow?”
Lucien sits forward. “Anything’s possible,” he answers. “I’ve never been afraid of a fight—you know that better than anyone, but I know guys like Draven and his father, and the thing they want even less than my building going up is scandal and lawsuits. Pope looked into it—they already have two separate ongoing investigations by the Securities and Exchange Commission for all sorts of shady business practices. They’ve put millions into fighting it. The last thing they want is to open up another front in that war. They thought they’d scare me off. Obviously, they didn’t know the Carter brothers as well as they thought they did. We’ll all be fine.”
Fine.
It’s a word we use most often when we’re not fine at all—but this time I believe him. I feel the same way. “Good.”
He looks at the window as I look at him. I can’t help but stare at him, still. I can’t look at those lips without remembering what he did to me in the office. I can’t see his hands grasping his coffee cup without thinking of them clutched to my hips.
“Do you remember the first time we came here?” he asks.
“Of course. You think the pain of that hangover headache will ever leave my memory? I think I popped a toxic amount of Tylenol and Advil that day.”
“You held your liquor like. . . well, like a seventeen-year-old girl, actually. You still do.”
“Shut up,” I joke. “I can handle alcohol just fine if I drink it slowly.”
“I’ll believe that one when I see it.”
We talk for a little as we wait for our food. The whole mood is lighter and more casual than it’s been since he came back. He’s told me almost everything I wanted to know, except one thing.
“What is it?” he asks.
I look at him sideways. “What are you talking about, I didn’t ask anything.”
“Yes you did. With your eyes. The body never lies.”
He knows me so well it’s scary. “I didn’t want to ask.”
He smiles. “‘Don’t ever ask me about my business, Kate’.”
“I actually get it this time. But how about just this once?”
“Alright,” he says. “Just because you remembered the line from the greatest movie ever—which we’re going to watch next weekend.”
“Is that right?”
“Box out three hours.”
I can’t wait. “Where did you go when you left Arkham? What did you do?”
“I was wondering when you were going to ask me that,” he admits. “Took you way longer than I thought it w
ould.”
“Sorry,” I joke. “I’ve been busy trying to get all of the other secrets of your life out of you.”
“I’ve given you more than I’ve ever given anyone, so you’re doing a good job.” The waitress puts our food down, but neither of us touches it. “First, I stayed with some friends from the city I went to school with before I came to live in Arkham. I knew some older kids who were in college. Then I went to see the old man.”
“Your father?”
“Yeah. Bastard look like he’d seen a ghost. I asked him for money. He refused like I knew he would. So I told him I’d upgrade his wheelchair to a shiny new casket if he didn’t give me what I needed, so he transferred money into a bank account I opened. I lived on that for a few years, traveling all over the U.S., even overseas.”
“I never pegged you as a world traveler.”
“I love seeing new places. New people and cultures. I did that for a while, but even that gets old. Eventually I came back and my life was pretty aimless—I drank way too much, messed around with the wrong substances, the wrong friends. . .”
“The wrong women?”
“That too. Look, I’ve never lied to you, right? Yes, there were a bunch of anonymous women. We were separated for ten years. I’m sure you had some guys too.”
“A few.”
“Right. You thought you’d never see me again, I know. I thought the same until. . .”
“Until?”
“My father’s wake,” he tells me. “It was that night Pope and I went out for drinks and talked for hours. That’s when we made our deal about the business. And once I knew I’d be in that position in Manhattan, I looked for you.”
What is he talking about? “You looked for me?”
“Yup. You’d be amazed what you can find out about a person if you hire the right people. I kept up with you. When you were graduating, when you opened your own practice. All the time, I waited, knowing that I’d come back, and that you’d be mine.”
“So you stalked me?”
Preacher: The East End Boys Page 25
