by Kristen Echo
The last messages were from Westlyn. Nothing from her sister or Reba. The drop-in center was open, and they had shower facilities. She considered heading there to clean up. A group of young men walked by her. She looked down and avoided eye contact. If she was too embarrassed to be seen by strangers, she definitely didn’t want Reba to see her like that. She didn’t want Spencer or Wes to see her either.
After washing her face and hands in a nearby fountain, Gwen sat on a bench under the shade of an elm tree. She crossed her legs. One of her sandals fell off. The blisters on her foot looked angry and inflamed.
As she debated where to go, her phone rang. She smiled when she saw Westlyn’s name on the screen. “Hi, my girl.”
“Mom, where are you? Don’t lie to me,” she warned.
Gwen leaned forward, planting her elbows on her knees. “I’m at a park. Why? What’s going on?”
“Which park? I’m at the motel and they said you aren’t a guest anymore.” The worry in her voice rang loud and clear. “Care to explain where you slept last night?”
“I’m a few blocks away. The park by the river. You—”
“Stay there. I’m on my way,” Wes huffed. “Did you sleep there last night?”
“Do you really need to know?” Gwen rubbed her insole. She needed a couple of bandages and better shoes. No more half-day treks across the city in flip-flops.
“Oh, Mom. We shouldn’t have to discuss the dangers of—”
“This hasn’t been one of my finer decisions. I’d appreciate if we can gloss over the sleeping quarters,” she said, switching legs and inspecting her other foot. It was in better shape with only one massive blister under her big toe.
A few minutes later, Westlyn ran towards her. Her cheeks were rosy from exertion. She dropped onto the bench, huffing and puffing. “This park is bigger than I thought. I should have asked which side you were on. You look like hell,” she panted, hugging her mother.
“You look amazing,” she replied, admiring her daughter. “Red is your color.”
“You’re not allowed to sleep on the streets or parks or whatever. We might be homeless, but we’re not out of options. Anything could have happened.” She sniffled, and her big eyes filled with moisture. “Not when Spencer offered us a place. Not when—”
Gwen hugged her again. “I’m sorry, and I won’t do it again.”
“Promise? I need you to pinky promise,” Wes said, holding out her pinky finger and blinking away the tears.
Pinky promises were serious business. Gwen had made Wes do the same after they’d left the hospital in Vancouver. She’d asked her to pinky promise never to hurt herself again. Gwen wiped the tear that escaped. “I promise I won’t sleep on the streets. There are always other options.”
They hooked fingers and shook on it.
Gwen sat back. “I thought you were working this morning. How come you’re up and at the motel?”
A sheepish look crossed Westlyn’s features. “I got worried when I couldn’t reach you. Sometimes a girl needs her mommy,” she said in a mock childish voice.
She suspected there was more to it than that but didn’t push the issue. “So, you’re not working today?”
“I’m on the clock, but Connie has school. Spencer suggested I go find you and bring you home. Pretty sweet of him. Right?”
It was beyond nice. Somehow, he knew exactly what she needed before she did. “Did you eat? I’ve got a granola bar in my bag.”
“You know he’s an early riser like you.” Wes drummed her fingers on her knees. “He also loves croissants. I’m just saying, you two have a bunch in common.”
“Are you trying to play matchmaker?” She lifted an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest.
“I’m not Cupid,” Wes said while shooting a make-believe bow and arrow. “I won’t even pretend to understand how old people date.”
Gwen playfully slammed her shoulder against her daughter. “Hey! I’m not old. Where is Mr. Northcote?” She searched the open area but saw only a group of young men gathered near the riverbank. “I assume you didn’t get here that quickly by foot.”
Wes shook her head and her hair covered her face. She removed her phone from her pocket. Her fingers moved across the screen. “He dropped me at the park entrance and offered us some time to be alone. I told him my lecture might be a long one, and I’d text when we are ready to be picked up. I get that you want to do things on your own, but you’re being irresponsible.”
Looking at her wrinkled clothing, she cringed. Her daughter’s word choice was spot on. Gwen had been reckless. If the roles were reversed, she’d have torn a strip off Wes.
“Again, I apologize for making you worry. It’s not like I planned to fight with my sister and run out of cash. I sure hadn’t planned for you to catch me at my lowest.” Gwen chewed the inside of her cheek. Not only had Westlyn found her crawling from the gutter, Spencer would see her after a night on the street.
“Who are you texting with?” she asked when her daughter didn’t look up from her phone.
Old friends seemed unlikely given the sun wasn’t even up on the coast. Wes had told her before they left that she didn’t want to keep in touch with any of her old friends because the memories were too painful. It was too hard. Gwen understood and wanted to give her the same reset she’d taken when she’d left Winnipeg. Sometimes a fresh start could do wonders.
“No one. Just playing on my phone.”
“Right. Are you chatting with Spencer?” She rubbed her legs and flakes of mud chipped off. She needed to change clothes.
The park offered no change rooms. She glanced at her suitcase and back around. The group of young men she’d noticed earlier stood by the river. She pushed the sleeves on her arm towards her biceps. It was getting warmer by the minute.
The lack of privacy didn’t seem to bother the men from dealing drugs less than twenty feet away from them. Gwen witnessed the money exchange hands and quickly looked away.
“We should go.” She grabbed Westlyn’s hand, and they stood. Her eyes returned to the men as one pushed a needle into his tattooed arm.
With her back to the group, Wes pulled her hand away and planted them on her hips. “I’m not done lecturing you!”
When the four men stepped towards them, Gwen’s heart jumped into her throat. She didn’t care for the way they were smiling at her and checking out her daughter. With the bench behind them, they were trapped.
“Well, the morning just got more interesting. It’s nice to see such beautiful women out and about,” a young man said with a heavy accent. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I haven’t seen you around this area before. And I know everyone here.”
Wes turned towards the attractive drug dealer. “Excuse me?”
His finely cut features and bright green eyes contorted as he laughed. There was something sinister hidden behind his crooked smirk. His good-looks didn’t fool Gwen. The way the others followed his lead, she suspected he was the ringleader.
“We aren’t from around here, and we were just leaving.” She shuffled left, hoping to leave without incident. She kept her eyes on the group, looking at each man and memorizing their features in case she needed to file a police report. They were all in their early twenties, but the similarities ended there.
A heavier set man with tattoos covering his arms closed their small window of escape. Judging by the way his pupils shifted it was clear the drugs had taken effect. “Stay awhile. I’m sure we can find plenty of fun things to do together.”
He licked his lips and stared at Westlyn’s chest. She crossed her arms, covering her body. Gwen moved closer to her daughter as unease settled in her gut.
The comments might have been harmless, but Gwen wasn’t interested in finding out. She reached into her pocket and pressed the emergency call button on her phone. Without taking it out, she couldn’t be sure if she’d pressed the right spot. She hoped she was being paranoid, but the raised hairs on the back of her neck couldn’t be di
smissed.
“Don’t scare them.” The man with the accent shoved his companion on the shoulder. “We won’t hurt you.”
“Damn right you won’t,” Wes shot back. “We’re not interested in anything you have to offer.”
He stepped closer. His chest practically touching her daughter’s. “High strung. I’ve got what you need to take the edge off.” He pulled a clear, plastic bag from his pocket. It contained mostly pills, but there were smaller bags of white powder and a few syringes.
“I don’t do drugs.” Wes’s voice trembled.
“We’re not interested,” Gwen barked.
“There’s a first time for everything,” he cooed in his foreign accent. He ran the tip of his finger along Westlyn’s jaw.
She shoved his hand away. “Get the fuck away from us! We aren’t interested in anything you have to offer.”
Gwen had been staring so intently at the ringleader and Wes, she hadn’t noticed the man with tattoos slide next to her.
He grabbed her arm. “Why argue when you can experience the high for yourself.”
Something pricked her arm. She yelped and tried to free herself, but his grip was firm. A needle pierced her skin.
“That should loosen you up.” He winked as he injected her with an unknown substance. “Now, we can get the party started.” He pulled the needle out and pushed her backwards.
She fell onto the bench as the warmth of the drugs spread. “Run,” she yelled to her daughter as she swept her leg out, tripping the man who’d injected her with drugs. Gwen kicked the man as hard as she could, and he dropped the needle.
“What the fuck!” Wes lifted her knee and connected with the ringleader’s balls. He doubled over, holding his crotch and she slammed her arms across the back of his neck.
The man with the tattoos fought back, grabbing Gwen’s ankle and pulling her off the bench. She screamed and continued kicking as she fell to the ground. Her head connected hard with the corner of the concrete surrounding the bench area. She saw stars. A shooting pain split across her skull, but she kept kicking.
Everything went fuzzy and out of focus. She tore her eyes from her attacker to see her daughter kicking ass. Her arms were pinned back by one of the men, but she flipped him over her body and slammed him to the ground. The last man advanced and Wes kicked him in the throat. All four men were on the ground.
As if things moved in slow motion, the ringleader scrambled to his feet, attempting to flee. Wes jumped on his back, forcing him to the ground. Gwen fought to stay awake. Her legs thrashed but felt heavy. The other men were recovering from the initial blows and rising to their feet. They headed for Wes.
Between hitting her head and the drugs, she felt completely disconnected. She couldn’t get up or even lift her head. Her heart pounded furiously in her chest. Soon all she heard was the whooshing of blood through her veins. Her vision blurred. She had to help her daughter. She blinked, trying to focus and stay conscious. Then she saw him.
Spencer raced towards the two men and tackled them seconds before they reached Westlyn. Fists flew in all directions as the fight raged on. Two cops burst into the area as the man she was fighting secured her legs by mounting her. He grabbed her head and slammed it against the ground again. Another wave of pain and darkness followed. She flailed and scratched the man’s face until he let go.
“You bitch!” He covered his face.
Someone yanked him off of her and slapped handcuffs on his wrists. “You’re under arrest.”
Spencer kneeled next to her. His eyes were so blue. Like he’d bottled the Caribbean Sea and placed the pools of turquoise in his eyes. She could swim there forever. He held her hand and his heat washed over her. His full lips parted as though he was talking, but she couldn’t make out the words. It didn’t matter. They were safe.
She closed her eyes and couldn’t open them. “A good man. Not hers. You’re the one. I mean… loving you forever,” she mumbled. Her words made no sense, but she kept babbling. He needed to know she cared for him and didn’t want him to date her sister. She wanted him for herself. Her head throbbed and staying awake seemed like a losing battle. “Me. You. Wes. Spencer don’t go.”
Warm lips pressed against her forehead and he chuckled. “Wes is fine. An ambulance is coming.” He squeezed her hand as the darkness won.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“S ure is taking the nurse a long time to get back with the doctor’s signature on those release papers.” Gwen sat on a hospital bed, dangling her legs off the side.
Wes nodded.
The private room was hot, despite the air conditioning unit humming non-stop. Afternoon sunlight poured in through the open window, adding more unwanted heat. Sweat dotted her brow, and she wiped her hands on her sleeveless summer dress. The cold shower hadn’t helped. Leaning towards the end table, she grabbed a glass of water. She swallowed the contents and set the empty glass down as she looked around.
An endless sea of yellow, pink and red brightened the otherwise drab space. She inhaled and smiled. The private room smelled like a flower shop since every inch was covered in roses. The flowers were from Spencer.
A thoughtful touch.
“We’ll be outta here soon.” Her daughter sat with her face glued to her phone. She hadn’t left her side for more than a few minutes since the incident at the park.
The drugs had worn off within a few hours. However, she couldn’t recall everything she’d rambled while under their influence. She suspected she’d bared her soul and barfed the contents all over Spencer and Wes. The lack of details made her cringe.
After several tests, the doctors had confirmed Gwen suffered a mild concussion. Nothing too serious. She’d been damn lucky. Her blood work came back clean. She’d have to be tested again, but it seemed like she’d walk away with no lifelong ramifications. She felt fine, other than a bruised ego and a lump on her head. For precautionary measures, they had her stay for monitoring.
“You should read what these idiots are writing about today,” Wes said, scrolling through her phone. “Spencer is going to go ape-shit.”
“Show me,” Gwen slid off the bed and walked towards her daughter.
Throughout the morning, Spencer had popped in and out of her room. Since the news broke about the attack, the hospital had been crawling with media. He showed his alpha male side, protecting them from the mayhem. Gwen asked him to keep their names out of the press. So far, he’d been successful.
The headlines toted a mystery heroine as the city’s superhero. Because of Wes, the police had apprehended the city’s most wanted criminal. Spencer explained that the cops had been searching for Rex Ressa for months. He’d orchestrated a massive drug ring and had been responsible for a slew of teenagers disappearing. During a raid on his compound, he’d avoided capture. After several near misses, the evasive mastermind was finally behind bars.
Wes turned her phone and Gwen read the gist of the article. This was definitely a different spin on the story. They implied Spencer and some of his NHL players were somehow involved in organized crime and the drug problem in the city. According to the reporter, Joe Larson and Spencer Northcote’s hands were far from clean. Countless other players may also be involved. The conspiracy theory was laughable, but now she understood why he hadn’t been back to check on her for the past hour.
Not that they’d spoken much since the narcotics had worn off. Gwen had kept her mouth shut and pretended to sleep. So many words had already been said, and she couldn’t take them back. If only she could remember them all, maybe she wouldn’t feel so awkward.
“Do you think any of it’s true?” Wes asked.
“Not one word,” she responded without hesitation.
“I didn’t think so either. Most of this happened before we came here, but Spencer doesn’t strike me as a drug lord.”
Gwen chuckled. “No, he doesn’t. Bad press is never good, but I’m sure he’ll handle this.” She sat in the chair next to Wes. “I’m more worried about you.
How do you feel about being called a superhero, and everything that happened?”
She shrugged her shoulders and put her phone on the bedside table. “I don’t really deserve the title. Still… it’s better than being called a murderer by people you thought cared about you.” Wes looked down and her legs bounced.
Kids could be so cruel. Westlyn hadn’t forced her boyfriend to take drugs, but she hadn’t stopped him the night of his overdose. For months, she’d been begging him to strop experimenting, but not that night. To make matters worse, attending the party had been her idea. His best friends had lashed out, blaming her for his death.
“People say stupid things when they’re grieving.” Gwen’s hands balled into fists. “You are not responsible for—”
“It’s cool.” Wes covered her mother’s hand. “Since he died, I’ve asked why not me? Like a billion times. Why am I still alive? What’s my purpose? Maybe I found it.”
“What do you mean?” She swiveled to face her daughter. Big green eyes met hers head on.
“I don’t know. It’s tough to explain. The experience was empowering. I should have been scared. Right? Were you scared?”
“Yes, I was frightened,” she answered honestly.
“Exactly. I wasn’t at all. More like I was angry. Livid even. As if a volcano of rage erupted when they offered those drugs. It felt like I was back in that basement with the drugs in front of us. Only this time, I had no intention of staying quiet. This time I was stopping the real murderers,” she seethed. “Then every minute of the self-defense classes we took rushed back. I couldn’t let those pieces of scum get away.”
Gwen leaned over and hugged Wes. “My daughter the superhero. I am so proud of you.”
“Thanks. You told me this like a bazillion times already.”
“Well, I’m a proud parent. Sue me.”
Wes pulled away and stood. “You might not be so happy with what I have to say next,” she said, pacing the small room. She ran her fingers through her hair, keeping her eyes hidden. “Hear me out, okay?”
