Straight Cut

by Wyatt, Dani

  He looked so content. The effort on his face matched with a look of purpose and peace and I hope I can find something that feels like that someday myself.

  Still, I’m flying high as I tip the glass with the last of my Coke letting it stream down my throat and I suck an ice cube into my mouth then spit it back into the glass, looking around the bar, noticing pony-tail guy has made himself scarce.

  “So,” Beverly starts, and there’s a curiosity in that single word tells me questions will follow. “You met Mathias that day you ate here?”

  I half shrug, reaching down to unbutton my jeans because the double burger with four slices of bacon requires it.

  “Yeah. I came out of the bathroom, and boom. There he was. He’s hard to miss.”

  She giggles, brushing a strand of her blonde hair from her cheek. “He is at that. When I first met him, I could barely speak. I honestly thought I must be hallucinating, because I’ve never seen anyone that big except with special effects. I moved here a couple years ago, the bar was for sale, I was tired of living in the city and I found the listing online. I’m actually an attorney, but I hated it, so I took my savings, made the deal and made my way to Walkerville. Never looked back.”

  “Wow. That was a leap of faith.”

  She twists her lips on a grin, looking over her shoulder as a customer at the bar calls her name. “Sometimes, a little faith is just what we need. Let me know if you need anything else.” The customer yells for her to get a move on, and she spins in her chair and barks back, “All right, Phil, no need to be an asshole.”

  I nod as she rolls her eyes, shoves her chair back and moves off to the bar, then push my plate away and fold my hands on the table, already missing Mathias more than I want to admit. I look up at the TV hanging on the wall and distract myself watching a monster truck extravaganza for a moment.

  A ringing noise coming from Mathias’ flannel jacket startles me away from the TV. I immediately thinks he left his phone on purpose, and maybe he’s calling me from wherever he went, so I dig in the front pocket and pull it out.

  The screen says Mom, so I set it on the table, face down and notice a business card stuck to the back of the phone.. I peel it off, flip it over and all the warm, safe feelings I’ve wrapped myself in over the last few days evaporate in a single breath.

  When did Mathias meet my stepfather?

  The door to the bar opens, and my tummy still does this dumb little flip like it does whenever Mathias walks into the room. But right now, I’m shivering, my mind racing as I try to figure out what’s going on. The light from outside silhouettes the person coming in, and from the size and shape of his body, it’s not Mathias.

  I look back down at the card, my head starting to pound, and the need to run overwhelms me. The same urge I had when I left my home and set up camp in the woods.

  The chair squeals on the floor as I shove it back, panic clutching around my throat. First thing is to get away, get myself safe, and then I’ll figure out what to do next. Right now, I can’t think straight. I stand and turn, ready to bolt.

  Only, someone is blocking the way to the door.

  “Astrid.” His voice sears through me like bile. “You’ve been a naughty girl.”

  My stepfather shakes his head, his eyes dead, but from the way the vein in his forehead is standing out, he’s anything but calm.

  “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

  “I’ve been looking. Showing your picture around leaving my phone number. Finally found someone that recognized you. Told me you were here.”

  Thoughts run rampant through my head. Mathias must have called him. He had his business card. He sent me here and called him, told my stepfather where I was. But why? Why string me along like that?

  Was this just a game? The whole virgin mountain man thing? Just some cruel joke?

  He wants to get to me to get the money and offered a reward...

  “Sit down, Astrid, I want to talk to you.”

  “No.” I shake my head and move to walk past him, but he grabs my arm and shoves me down into the chair even as my heart is breaking.

  “Do not make a scene. I just want to talk.”

  Beverly throws me a look of concern, and I have to make a decision. I could shout for her to help. Let her call the cops. Or I can hear what my stepfather has to say and be done with him, once and for all. I have a few things to say myself, so let’s let it all be done here and now.

  Maybe it’s the wrong choice, but I nod and mouth the words to Beverly as I sit down: It’s okay.

  I stare across at my stepfather, and all I feel is loathing.

  “You want to talk. Talk. Then I’ve got some things to say myself.”

  He huffs out a breath through his nose, shaking his head. “You and I never did see eye to eye, did we?” He waits, but all I offer is a shrug. “Honestly, I wish things had been different between us. Maybe all this unpleasantness between us could have been avoided. And I admit, I have to shoulder part of the blame for that—”

  “Part of the blame?” I explode, feeling the bile rise up in my throat. “I was a kid. A pretty good kid. You were—”

  “Yes, part of the blame, Astrid. You always saw me as the villain, and it takes two to tango.” He waves a hand between us. “Anyway, I didn’t come here to argue. I came to put our differences aside—” I start to interrupt, but he holds up a finger to silence me. “For your mother’s sake.”

  I narrow my eyes, but he knows she’s my weakness. “What does Mom have to do with this, Robert?”

  “Everything. She has everything to do with this. I loved her. Whatever you think of me, that much is true, you have to believe that at least.”

  I stare in silence for a long moment, the monster trucks roaring on the TV as I wonder where this is going. But the longer I look at him, the more I start to think about how things were.

  They say nostalgia is a slick liar but perhaps, in his own way, he did love her. And perhaps he’s hurting too. Eventually, I nod, take a breath, and the lines on his face seem to smooth in relief.

  “Thank you. I know you loved her too.” He replies, his expression steady, and I struggle to keep an open mind.

  “Is that all you wanted? To make sure I know you loved Mom? Okay, fine, you loved her. But us? Me and you? We are never going to have any sort of relationship. You ruined that the day I left.”

  He nods. “I understand. That’s something I’m going to have to live with. But that’s not the only reason I’m here. Your mother left you something. A gift. I found it the day after you disappeared. To tell you the truth, it’s that gift that made me realize I had to see you and make amends.”

  My heart clutches. “What is it?” I can’t believe there was a gift for me from my mom and I didn’t know about it. What could it be that she wanted me to have? And something that would make him believe he had to see me? It must be something special.

  “It’s in my car. Astrid, it’s better if you see it for yourself. For me to describe it to you wouldn’t... It’s just better if you come with me.”

  “Why didn’t you bring it in with you? What is it?”

  “Well, I wasn’t even sure I would find you in here and if I did, I don’t think it’s something you’ll want to receive with all these people around. It’s personal. Come with me, just to the car. You don’t have to get in or go anywhere, I’ll just get it for you, and you can do what you like after that.”

  I watch him, looking at his eyes, and all I see is an old man who’s made a mess of things. Sure, he’s made my life a misery. But if this gift from my mom has made him rethink those things, I guess it’s the last thing she’s able to do for me.

  Nodding, I push my chair back. “Fine, okay, let’s go.”

  OUTSIDE, I SEE HE’S parked over in the corner of the back parking lot. Apart from a beat-up old black van that looks like it might have come off the set of The A Team back in the 80s, there are no other cars nearby.

  I follow him, but as we get
close, I hang back.

  “Come on, Astrid, what am I going to do? We’re in public in broad daylight...”

  “I have no idea, but I don’t trust you.”

  He stops and turns, and the look in his eyes could be anything. Anger, frustration, hurt. I don’t care.

  Robert releases an exasperated sound, but turns and continues to the car, and I wander a little closer, but stop by the van.

  “This is as close as I’m going to get. You can bring whatever it is to me.”

  If he tries anything, I’m ready to run. I can be around the other side of this van before he gets to me, and then I’ll scream my head off as I run back to the bar. Enough screaming I’m sure he’ll tuck tail and move on out of town.

  “Fine. Whatever. I’m trying here, Astrid.” He shoves his key into the lock on the trunk of his car, then spins back toward me and I ready myself for whatever he’s going to say, but he raises his voice, looking toward the van. “Now, Wally!”

  For a second, I’m stunned. Who’s Wally?

  A few seconds later, I’ve got it put together but it’s too late.

  The doors on the back of the van swing open, and a huge sweaty paw clasps over my mouth, cutting off my scream. I struggle, kicking out, but just hear a low laugh as I’m dragged back and bent over the back of the van.

  “Settle down, or I’ll give you something to cry about.”

  He slaps my ass hard, and I screw up my face, trying desperately to scream, or bite his fingers, or anything to get him off me but a sticky strip of duct tape slaps over my lips.

  I recognize the voice right away, and I know who he is. Wallace Yates. A friend of my stepfather’s. He’s big and rough, and he smells like sewer water.

  “That’s enough, Wally. She’s a little bitch, but she’s still my stepdaughter. Put her in the van.”

  I shake my head, and somehow find the strength to wrench my body out of Wally’s vise-like grip. Seizing my chance, I kick out at his shin, landing a good, solid blow. Wally cries out and I pull away from his arms. My stepfather reaches out to grab me, but I throw a punch his way, landing it solid catching him on the side of his nose and seeing blood spurt.

  That’s it. It’s my chance. I don’t waste another second as I half-stumble, half-sprint for the back door of the bar. As I run, I am counting my steps but I don’t get far.

  The blow hits in my lower back and knocks the wind out of me as it sends me hurtling into the asphalt. I scream into the tape over my mouth and there’s no way it’s loud enough to alert anyone not close by.

  I scrape my palms and knees on the hard surface of the parking lot, but I barely feel the pain as a heavy body is on top of me, hands around my torso as I’m hauled up and manhandled back to the van.

  Wally drags me inside and my stepfather climbs in behind him, grinning as I’m shoved down onto the floor.

  “You think I’m just going to let you go? Let you take what’s rightfully mine?” My stepfather laughs. “No. You’ll sign over the inheritance, and then I’ll decide what to do with you. Maybe you can convince me that you won’t be any bother.” He presses his lips together as though in thought. “Or maybe I just let Wally here do whatever he likes with you before he gets rid of you permanently. He always did like you. After all, you did disappear into the woods. But if you want any chance of living, you’ll sign what I tell you to sign. Wally, tape her hands and feet together and let’s get out of here before somebody decides to play hero.”

  He turns and grabs the inside handle to the van door, about to pull it closed, then a little yelp escapes his lips, and that’s the last sound he makes before a black shadow darkens the open door.

  12

  Mathias

  MY FIST CONNECTS WITH the fuck’s face so hard it knocks him across the van and into the backs of the seats on the other side. I don’t waste a second, climbing inside.

  The space is small for me, and I end up crouching, which isn’t the best situation for a fight but I don’t give a flying fuck. This asshole is going down, and he’ll be lucky if he ever wakes up again.

  “Astrid. Is. Mine.” With each word I land another punch, his face turning to a pulpy mess, but my rage is a fire burning through me.

  He throws up an arm to defend himself, but his pathetic attempt does nothing to stop me. “No. One. Touches. What. Is. Mine.”

  There’s a growl of rage from behind me, and as it’s clear Astrid’s stepfather isn’t going to be moving for a long while, I turn around just in time to see the glint of steel as the other fucker takes a swipe at me.

  “Seriously? You too,” I growl as the blade glances off my shoulder. I feel it connect but there’s no pain, only more rage.

  I lurch forward and his eyes go wide as he steps back. Maybe it’s seeing me up close that’s given him the shits, or maybe it’s seeing the state of his partner in crime. I don’t really care about the details. All I know is, he’s my next target.

  He takes another shot at me, a bit of the bravado in his face gone. I pop my clenched fist at his eye and hear a squelching sound as my punch lands right on target.

  He stumbles, putting out a hand to catch himself, but lands in an awkward ball, rolling into Astrid. She cries out under the tape over her mouth, but his momentum is like a pin falling in a bowling alley and his shoulder barrels into her face, knocking her head back at the side of the van with a clang.

  And that’s when I really see red. Astrid reaches up and rips the tape from her mouth.

  “Mathias, stop!”

  I hear her, but it does nothing to quell my rage.

  I reach past her as the other bastard scrambles towards the doors, feeling as he goes and nursing his closed eye. With a roar, I grab the knife out of his hand with ease, just as he falls out the back of the van, grunting as he hits the asphalt hard.

  “No! Please!” He’s begging as he lies there, with me towering over him.

  Like a gladiator bloodlust courses through my veins, mercy a foreign concept. I want him to beg for his life, and I want to take it from him, nonetheless.

  With a chuckle, I jump down from the back of the van, hearing the suspension creak in relief at no longer having to support my weight. His lip is quivering as I hover over him, letting him savor his last few moments.

  “Please! Stop! I didn’t want anything to do with this.” Tears run down his cheeks, drawing clear rivers in the bloody meat of his face. “I don’t want to die...”

  “You’re already dead...” I mutter as heave a breath, feeling the weight of the knife in my hand as I play with it, wondering where I should cut him first.

  “Mathias, no. Don’t do this.” Astrid is behind me and her voice stalls the vengeful thoughts.

  Rage battles with love as I stare down at the pathetic waste of life in front of me. He doesn’t deserve mercy. She’s too gentle and kind for this world. I’ll protect her from it, even if she hates me for it.

  In the distance, I hear sirens, and I know that if I don’t put him out of his misery right now, he’ll end up in cuffs and righteous justice may not be served.

  I feel Astrid’s hand on my shoulder and it’s far more potent than any punch her father or this sniveling shit could throw. Then her voice, and the red rage begins to clear. “Not for him. For me.” As I turn, I see the marks on herface and blood roars in my ears.

  “You’re hurt. He did it.” I growl.

  She nods. “I know. But if you kill him, they’ll take you away from me. And then who will look after me?”

  I reach out a hand, running a thumb over her top lip where blood is trickling from her nose.

  “It’s not that bad,” she says. “Just, take me away from here. Please.”

  Seething, I finally nod and put my arms around her, lifting her down from the back of the van and placing her on the ground. There’s a scrambling sound, and I turn to see her stepfather’s friend stumbling as he finds his feet and runs.

  He turns back around, to check if I’m following, just as he gets to the co
rner of the bar, and there’s a screech of brakes, a thud, a cracking of glass, and a moment later the bastard’s on the ground with the cops crowded around him.

  At first I’m not so sure he’s alive, and the irony of him surviving me only to be taken out by the town sheriff makes me start to chuckle, but then there’s a groan and someone’s reading him his rights, and it’s like a tension has been lifted.

  “Thank you,” Astrid says. “I know that was hard for you. But sometimes, what’s hard for one of us will be what’s right for both of us.”

  I nod, knowing she’s right. More than a few of the patrons from the bar are outside nowwatching, and as I catch the eye of the Fleming brother who was bothering Astrid a few days ago, and he starts to slink away.

  Something in that glance rubs me wrong but for now there’s nothing I can do, because the Sheriff is already here.

  “It was hard,” I admit. “But for you, baby, I’ll do anything.” The sheriff starts walking toward us, and I let out a sigh. “I’m going to have to deal with this. But then I’m taking you home.”

  WE’RE BACK SITTING on the sofa an hour later, Astrid has a first aid kit open on the cushion next to her with Ginger curled in a ball sleeping on a pile of pillows.

  “So,” She asks as she fiddles with the contents of the kit. “What’d you find out?”

  She doesn’t miss much. On the way home she asked if I talked to the ‘ponytail guy’ because she noticed him taking off and then walked by the sheriff and disappeared after him. I was too worked on the way home to discuss anything until she was safe here behind our doors but it’s time to give her the details.

  “Your step-fucker was showing your picture to anyone that would look. Showed it to Fleming who had just left Duffy’s after I dropped you off.” I exhale and finish. “Long story short, your step-dad gave him the same sob story he gave to the cops, only Fleming bought it, and pointed him toward the bar.”

  I can’t say I was too pleased. But I’d be an asshole for taking that out on Fleming, when at the end of the day he was trying to do a decent thing. Misguided? Sure. But that’s not a crime in my book.