by JA Huss
“Oh,” I say. “Well, thank you.”
“I was also his… distributor. He sends the treatments to me every month and I make sure they get out to where they need to go.”
I hold my breath for a moment.
“I’ll still take care of that. Don’t worry. It’s all been set up with the Way. And I’ll be with him forever now, I suppose. Which is fine.” He averts his gaze from me. “They killed my family so there’s nothing for me to return to. But I’ll take care of him too, I promise. We’re in this together. And…” He hesitates. “And you can move on to your new life without worry.”
It takes me a good two or three minutes to parse that whole statement and find the meaning underneath. Understand it. Realize he’s my father’s partner and has also kept his secret. Paid a very high price to keep that secret. And that, just as the woman said, he will be taking over my role in the lab.
I have been absolved. Or, at the very least, let go.
Not free, exactly. But freer than I was.
I finally nod and stare out at the sea. Wondering if that woman—Johnny’s mother?—wondering if she’s the missing queen in the chess game. Because I recognized her voice immediately. She was the woman handling me on this job to bring Johnny in.
And that means—
Gunshots.
I stand up quickly, then realize it’s just Johnny. Shooting down a drone. It falls out of the sky in pieces as he points his gun at the other ones hovering nearby, spewing out threats. Warnings about what will happen if they get too close to him.
If she’s the queen, then he’s… my prince.
“He’s something, isn’t he?” Samuel says.
And when I glance up at him, he’s looking at Johnny. Who is now yelling into the phone at Logan. “We’ll talk about it later, goddammit. Just come alone. We have passengers!”
“He sure is,” I muse. Then slip my father’s hand through the white ribbon and tighten it around his wrist.
I look up at him and find him staring at me. Tears in his eyes.
I pat his hand and say, “It’s going to be OK now, Daddy.”
And somehow… I might even believe that.
I don’t accompany my father and Samuel to Osprey Cay when we get there. Johnny and I just stand on the upper deck of Logan’s superyacht and watch the little tender boat ferry them to the marina. My gaze wanders to the mansion where I grew up. Wondering if I will ever see the inside of that place again.
Decide I won’t.
Decide that part of my life is over.
We still have our secret and I wish I could’ve talked to my father about what we did and what we should do going forward, but I’m guessing that’s why they broke his jaw. He could’ve written me notes while he was here on Logan’s yacht with us. Given me some hint at what to do next, but he either didn’t want to or the pain killers he was on were too strong for him to think clearly.
“He’ll be OK,” Johnny says. Comforting me by slipping an arm around my waist and pulling me closer to him.
“Yeah,” I say back. “He will.”
I have to believe that or I wouldn’t be able to let him go.
“Where to now?” Logan asks.
Johnny and I both turn to face him.
Logan was not happy about being refused his revenge. But Johnny told him what he could and left the most dangerous secrets out.
And Logan is a man who knows when to let things go. Because he just nodded in agreement.
“Key West,” Johnny says. “I need to let my brothers know everything has been taken care of.”
“Has it though?” Logan asks.
“As far as they’re concerned it has. We’re not going to tell them any of this. They will never know about the new deal I made. All they’ll know is that it’s over. They won’t push me on details once they find out there’s no more money-making ceremonies in our future. They’ll just be happy I took care of it.” Then he mumbles, “The way I always do.”
“Who’s gonna do that?” Logan asks. “The money-making stuff?”
“According to the contract I signed, a guy I know called… Check. I guess he was promoted too.”
The Dumas family… compound? I’m not sure that’s accurate. It’s really a whole street filled with cottages they own and rent to tourists. But at the moment are all filled with Johnny’s brother’s friends and family. But the Dumas family, regardless of what you call their living arrangements… well, it’s crazy.
There are so many new people here for me to meet. Jesse and Emma. Joey, Brooke, Huck, and Wald. Zach, Johnny’s cousin. And then Emma’s business partners. The science nerd Mrs. Boston referred to, Hanna, and her boyfriend. Whose name no one seems to be able to remember even though Hannah tells me she’s been dating him for two years. Then there’s Mila Sanchez and her entire family. Two kids and a husband. Natalie, who brought not one, but two, boyfriends down for her little vacay stay. And of course, Emma’s three massive, tattooed brothers—Alonzo, Tony, and Luke—and her parents. One tiny, bossy mother and one huge accommodating father.
Johnny was right about how his brothers would react. They pushed him a little for details, but not many. Johnny just said, “It’s been taken care of,” and that seemed to be enough.
Tomorrow the whole Boston brother party is going back to the city to get on with life but right now we’re sitting in the backyard of the Dumas family home having a huge Saturday dinner. Fried chicken, homemade rolls, corn on the cob, baked beans… an all-American picnic.
Something I didn’t know I needed in my life until this very moment.
And I love it.
It’s loud, and you can’t really even have a conversation with anyone because we’re all talking over each other. And there’s laughing, and joking, and happiness. More happiness in one place than I’ve witnessed in my entire life.
And everything that happened over the past week just… fades into the background noise of yesterdays.
I know we’re not free. Johnny knows we’re not free. But this might be as good as it gets so we’ve decided to just do our jobs.
Tomorrow morning we’ll all pile onto the giant Bright Berry Beach corporate jet, go back to the city, drive up to the Boston family lake house, and start our new life of wedding planning and baby making.
And I’ll go to work with Hannah, the Bright Berry Beach chemist. And somehow, some way, we will set this right.
It’s really not a bad gig if you can get it.
Two birds, one stone.
So they say.
EPILOGUE - JOHNNY
The night before we leave Key West the Dumas family hosts a huge Saturday evening dinner in our honor. At first I liked these people. A lot. And I’m glad that Logan insisted that I accept his help and not involve the Dumas brothers because even though I know they’d have been helpful, I don’t want my secret, stressful life to touch their easy-going, happy one.
But they are a handful.
First, there’s the mom. Sweet and sassy, sure. I’d call her both those things. But she’s not fooling me. I know a wild woman when I see one. She might be past her prime, and she does cook a helluva prime rib, but I would not count Silvia Dumas out in a fight, that’s for damn sure.
Then there’s the father. Jack. Like ten feet tall, two fifty, easy. And as good-natured as they come. He says he’s retired. Says all he wants to do is run that old dive shop, putt around in his workshop, and maybe, every now and then, do some deep-sea fishing with his sons.
But we’ve only been back from the Bahamas three days, staying in one of their guest houses next door, and I’ve caught him sneaking out of the house at three in morning twice. Trucker hat pulled down over his brows, shiftily looking side to side, and he rolls their shop van down the slant of the driveway in neutral and then pops it into gear once he’s a couple houses away.
Like he doesn’t want to wake up Silvia, I deduce.
I followed him last night but he ended up at a fish market and spent the next two hours play
ing chess with some other old geezer.
Normally I’d call it quits after that. I mean, how much trouble can one giant, old man get into, right? But then, just this morning, I was cruising past Alonzo’s house—he stays in the Dumas house to my left—and I just happened to peek in the window and catch him Skyping with a nerdy girl. Talking in a funny accent, fake glasses on his face, and telling her all about his accounting business.
Also, normally, I would not be questioning someone with information I gathered while peeping, but I don’t really care for the term ‘accounting’ anymore. And it got my hackles up.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I said. Because the window was open.
He hastily said goodbye to the girl, cut the Skype call, and then turned around and pointed his finger at me. “What the fuck, dude? You ever hear of privacy?”
“Why are you lying to her?”
“None of your goddamned business. Aren’t you leaving yet?”
“Are you catfishing that chick?”
He walked over to the window, slammed the sash down, and then pulled the curtains closed.
Yeah, that’s when I decided the Dumas clan was up to something—and pardon the pun here—fishy.
But you know what?
None of my goddamned business. After all, I’m not related to them. I have my own shit to think about. I can’t be worried about some rando Jesse girlfriend’s family secrets, right?
But then… then… that asshole little brother of mine proposed to Emma. Just this afternoon, actually.
And that’s when this fishy shit became my business.
“Stop it,” Megan chastises. Pinching my arm.
“What? I’m not even doing anything.”
“You’re glaring at him,” she hisses. Meaning Alonzo.
“Yeah, well. He’s catfishing that girl and I don’t like it. And the dad, he’s fartin’ around in a fish market at three AM. If that’s not fishy, I don’t know what is.”
She sighed. Long one too. “Johnny Boston. I’m starting to think you’re gonna miss your crazy life. Like life at the lake house isn’t going to be enough for you.”
“Wrong,” I say. Pointing at her. Then I smile, pull her in close to me, and kiss her on the lips like I’m gonna fuck her right here, right now. It’s long. And passionate. And both of my brothers, not to mention two of Emma’s, are telling us to get a damn room. But when I finally pull away from Megan Machette I whisper into her mouth, “You are all the crazy I can handle, woman. And all the crazy I want.”
But that night, while I’m looking out the window, waiting to see if Emma’s father is gonna go on his fish-market jaunt, I see a guy in a hoodie walking up and down the street.
And this doesn’t just get my hackles up. It gets my fully-loaded Kel-Tec in my hand and my feet out the back door.
He’s waiting for me on the side of the house. Hood still up, hands in pockets.
I watch those hands carefully. And when one comes out to lift the hood away, I aim my Kel-Tec right at his fucking face.
I’m just about to ask him what he wants, but then I see the tattoos around his neck.
Chains.
I lower the gun and say, “Nicolas Tate. You look a lot younger in person.”
His mouth goes crooked. And then he shrugs with both hands. “Johnny Boston. What can I say? I’m not very photogenic. And no one calls me Nicolas. Not if we’re friends.”
“Are we? Friends?”
“Depends.”
“I’m listening.”
“I know she’s not dead.” I pause, ready to ask who. But he cuts me off. “You know who. And I know you think you’re protecting her because she’s just a little girl and she needs it. But she’s not really a little girl. She’s a weapon. And she doesn’t need it. We need to be protected from her. I’m just trying to set this shit right. Just like you. And that’s all I’m trying to do. So if you know anything, I’d appreciate you telling me and then you can call me Nick, not Nicolas.”
I tuck my gun into the back of my pants. Shrug at him. “I don’t know anything. I let her go because she… she kinda charmed me into it.”
“Yeah. She’s good at that.”
“But we literally dropped her off in the middle of the Caribbean Sea and left her there. I have no idea what happened after that.”
He studies me for a few moments. Trying to decide if I’m lying.
Must decide I’m not. Because he nods his head and says, “Well, I appreciate the honestly, Johnny. I really do.”
Then he turns away and starts walking back towards the street.
“No problem, Nick.”
And he turns, walking backwards. Flips the hood back over his head, and shoots me with his finger. Then turns back around, shoves his hands into his pockets, and disappears around the side of the house.
Zach stays in Key West. He has a job with Luke Dumas on his boat doing…whatever the fuck that guy does. And back in the city Jesse goes home with Emma. They are so annoying with all their new wedding plans, I can’t stand it.
Joey, Brooke, Huck, and Wald go back to that new mini mansion they bought for Maisy. I called up Michael Conner, told him I handled shit, but he wasn’t part of the deal. He didn’t take that too well. Especially when I informed him that Joey will get time with Maisy every weekend. But I told him about my buddy Chek. (And that’s how you spell his name. C-h-e-k.) And if he wanted to take it up with him, he could be my guest. But I’m in a position to call the shots and so shots are being called.
Michael agreed to every other weekend, I found that to be acceptable, and we came to an understanding.
I just want Maisy’s life to go on as normal. Because she needs Megan’s father’s treatments and I want those treatments to happen under Michael Conner’s supervision, the same way they have been her whole, short life.
Otherwise Joey will start asking questions. And I don’t have good answers for those questions yet. So this really is for the best.
Megan and I stay in the Bossy one night before we go out to the lake house for good.
I tell her it’s because I wanted to grab a few things from my floor, and that’s mostly true. I have some clothes and a box of personal shit I want to take with me. Family photos. But there’s some letters in there too.
But the real reason I wanted to stay in the Bossy one night before we leave the city for good was so I could take Megan to the art museum and show her my favorite exhibit. They have a spectacular ancient Near-East collection there and I know the guy who curates it. He’s the one who gave me the translated cuneiform of the Epic of Gilgamesh for my tattoos.
And actually, the real, real reason I wanted to take here there was so I could have a conversation with the dude about that cuneiform contract I took with me from the island.
“What’s this?” he says, taking the piece of paper.
We’re meeting in a stairwell just outside the gift shop where Megan is looking for shit to buy before we head out.
“I’m not sure,” I say. “But can you translate it for me and give me a ring to let me know what it says?”
And actually, the real, real, real reason I know this dude is because I found a box of letters in my father’s personal shit after he died and he translated them for me.
They really were just the Epic of Gilgamesh. Which was a little bit weird because I’ve been into that poem since I was a little kid and I had no idea my parents were in to it too. So I was thinking... maybe… they communicated that way over the years?
Didn’t pan out though. If there was some secret hidden in those letters, I never did find it.
But I’m hoping—desperately hoping—that this contract really is a code or some secret message my mother cooked up to explain things to me on the down low.
“Sure,” my nerdy friend, Clark, says.
I peek through the window of the stairwell, spy Megan exiting the store with a bag of over-priced museum gift-shop crap, and then thrust a pre-paid phone at him. “Use this. My number�
�s been preprogrammed.”
“Oh, yeah. Dude. You got it,” Clark says. And then he winks at me. Because he’s a nerd. And he thinks that’s what you do when you’re on a secret mission.
But I don’t bust his balls about that. I kinda like the guy.
Then I slip out the stairwell when Megan has her back to me and slide my arm around her waist from behind. Kiss her neck, and whisper, “Did you get enough crap? Or do you need more time?”
Which she finds adorable.
“More than enough. And I’ll thank you later for the no-limit black card.”
The Way didn’t take my money away. They didn’t take anyone’s money away.
And I get it. We didn’t really get out. But maybe this is as ‘out’ as we’ll ever be?
I decide to go with it until they fuck with me.
And if they do fuck with me. Or my brothers, or anyone else I know. Then… then I’m gonna go looking for the guy called Nick and see if we can come to some mutually beneficial agreement.
“Come on,” I say. Taking Megan’s bags and her hand so I can lead her towards the entrance. “I’m ready to blow this town and retire.”
Two weeks later my phone rings and I turn over in bed, reaching across Megan’s naked body to fumble through the nightstand drawer where I keep all my burner phones at night. I have about half a dozen phones in there at the moment, so it takes me several tries to find the right one.
“Oh. My God,” Megan moans sleepily. “What time is it?”
“Shhh,” I say. “Just go back to sleep. It’s early.” Then I get up, pull on a pair a sweats real fast, and snap my fingers at our new puppy, Jasper, so he can come outside with me while I take this call.
It’s not actually that early. Almost nine AM. But it is Sunday. And we were up pretty late last night.
I’m kinda getting the hang of this retirement thing.
“Come on, Jas,” I say. Whisper-whistling to him. He’s a four-month old Labrador retriever and he has taken to his new cushy life on the lake like… well, a retriever takes to water.
