Temporary

by Alexx Andria

  While I rooted through the refrigerator, gasping at the discovery of something growing in a Chinese food carton, I managed to find some cheese crackers and a cold Gatorade to wash everything down.

  Clearly, food hadn’t been a priority but liquor had. Scores of empty, high-end vodka, gin and whisky bottles were scattered everywhere. “You might try recycling, you know,” I called out, irritated by the blatant disregard for, basically, everything.

  I returned to the bedroom to find Gage back on the bed, the towel thrown haphazardly over his junk, his eyes closed again but he opened them as soon as I entered. He saw the tray of food and shook his head, muttering, “Not hungry.”

  “You can’t sober up if you have nothing in your stomach,” I told him, refusing to listen to his bullshit. “You’re going to eat, sober up, and then you’re going to tell me what the hell is going on.”

  I expected a fight.

  Maybe even a shitty remark.

  But Gage did neither. Instead, he started shoving cheese and crackers in his mouth.

  Perhaps sullenly but at least he was eating.

  25

  “You haven’t answered my question,” Gage said, his voice less slurred after he’d eaten.

  I ignored his question. “It’s your turn to answer me,” I told him. “I know about Dustin.”

  At the mention of his brother, Gage stiffened as if I’d slapped him across the face. The iron curtain that I’d come to recognize as his protection mechanism slammed down hard. “You shouldn’t dig into business that isn’t your own.”

  “Too late.”

  Gage flung the towel off and strode naked from the room to the kitchen, searching for more liquor but I’d dumped everything out. “Where the fuck is my Circoc?” he demanded, shoving past weeks worth of garbage to come up empty. “Where’s my booze?”

  “Down the drain. The last thing you need is more fucking alcohol. You need to sober up.”

  “You’re not my fucking mother…you’re not fucking anything to me,” he snarled and I tried not to wince at the rip in my heart. Reece had warned me. I wasn’t so fragile that I couldn’t withstand a few hurled insults but if he kept it up, I’d shove that empty Ciroc bottle up his puckered ass.

  “Have you come to save the day, baby?” he mocked, shaking his head with disgust. “Fucking unbelievable. How’d you even find me? Take a hint, get the fuck out of my business.”

  “Ohh, big man, using his words to hurt because he’s so fucking broken inside that he can’t fucking man up and admit that he’s hurting inside. How old are you? Twelve?” I rounded the kitchen island to stand toe-to-toe, gesturing wildly to the disgusting mess he was living in. “And what the hell is this? You’re living like a fucking pig. This isn’t mourning, Gage, this is fucking wallowing. Your brother died and it was tragic but are you trying to climb in the fucking grave with him?”

  Maybe I’d gone too far. Maybe I’d gone just far enough. Either way…I’d just crossed a line and found a vicious bear on the other end.

  “You don’t know fucking shit about my life, you fucking cunt,” he snarled, reaching for the nearest object and hurled it across the room. Glass shattered in a million pieces but I held my ground. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, even as his eyes were blazing hot and his hands were clenched and ready. “You don’t know what it’s like to live with what’s in my fucking head so shut the fuck up.”

  “No, you shut the fuck up. How long are you going to milk and nurture this pain? Grief doesn’t have a shelf-life — no one is saying you need to stop remembering your brother — but for God’s sake, do you have to keep punishing everyone who cares about you just so you can ensure that you’ll die miserable and alone? Yeah, that’s right…miserable and alone. That’s your future, buddy.”

  “Maybe I want it that way.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “You don’t know me, Mari,” he returned hotly, his chest heaving with the bottled up rage that had no outlet. “Don’t fucking push buttons you don’t know are dangerous.”

  “What are going to do, Gage? Hurt me? You’ve already done that — but I’m here now because you’re a fucking idiot but I think you’re my fucking idiot so you’d better pull yourself together.”

  He barked an ugly laugh, his lip curling. “You’re delusional.”

  “And you’re an asshole,” I returned. “Tell me about Dustin.”

  “Drop it.”

  “What happened that night?” I continued stubbornly.

  “Fucking. Leave. It.”

  “No.”

  “Goddamn it, Mari!” he roared, a toxic mixture of panic and rage, anguish and guilt flooding his gaze as he exploded, scaring a yelp out of me as he started destroying anything he could get his hands on.

  “Gage, no!” I tried stopping him but he was out of control. I jumped out of the way just as a lamp went whizzing past me to shatter against the wall. “Jesus, Gage! What are you doing?” I cried but Gage couldn’t hear me.

  All I could do was huddle against the wall, seeking a safe spot from Hurricane Gage as he destroyed the suite like the Hulk on a rampage.

  Wood splintered, walls were gutted, glass broke. It was heartbreaking and frightening as fuck to watch Gage completely devolve into a sobbing, angry caricature of the man I’d fallen in love with.

  The raw wound of his brother’s death had festered to the point of poison seeping into his blood stream, ruining any chance at happiness.

  I knew my future was tied to this man — but I also knew there was a good chance neither of us might make it out alive.

  Not because he would purposefully hurt me but because I would never leave and let him hurt himself. If I became collateral damage, I was willing to take the risk.

  I swallowed, tears streaming down my face. “Gage,” I cried, squeezing my eyes shut to whisper, “Please stop…”

  It seemed an eternity before his rage was spent. We may have survived but the room certainly hadn’t. At this point, his security deposit was obliterated. Hell, he might even have to pay to remodel the entire suite.

  Gage finally stumbled to a stop, tripping on a broken end table to crash to the floor. I scrambled to my feet when I heard him roar in pain.

  A piece of jagged wood from the shattered table skewered his calf, spraying blood everywhere like something out of a slasher movie. So much blood, I wanted to puke but I didn’t have time to be squeamish.

  I helped pull the wood free, pushing down the bubble of bile that threatened, and then pressed a towel to the wound. “I think you need to go to the hospital,” I said, feeling queasy. I covered my mouth as I threw up in my mouth a little. “No, I mean, seriously.”

  “Fuck that,” he groaned and I wanted to knock some sense into him with the broken table leg.

  I risked another look at the wound, relieved to see the bleeding had slowed to a trickle. Maybe it wasn’t as bad I’d originally feared. “I could duct tape it together,” I suggested with a weak shrug. “It worked at home. Duct tape can fix anything. Still,” I said, rising on shaky legs to find my cell phone “you could have wood fragments in your leg, which could get infected.”

  Gage’s hoarse voice stopped me. “Mari, I’m fine.”

  Fine? Oh, hell no. I turned, wiping at the stubborn tears that kept falling. “You’re not fine. You’re the opposite of fine,” I told him, gesturing wildly toward the destruction he’d left behind. “This is not fine. I’m pretty sure you’re going to get sued for damages. Jesus, you’re killing yourself.”

  Gage quieted before meeting my gaze, saying with a small, sad defeatist shrug, “It’s no less than I deserve.”

  Passive aggressive self-pity made me want to vomit. “No.” I shot back, lifting my chin. “What you’re doing is willful self-destruction and it’s fucking maudlin as shit. You have the right to your pain but don’t shit on your brother’s memory by making it all about you. Dustin died but you’re still here. To quote Andy Fucking Dufresne…get busy living or get busy dying because this in-betwe
en crap is bullshit and a waste of time.”

  A heartbeat passed between us, heavy as a lead blanket tossed on our heads until Gage broke the silence, to ask with a narrowed gaze, “Did you just quote Shawshank Redemption to me?”

  My jaw firmed. “Fuck yes I did,” I replied, not sorry. “It’s a great movie and it seemed appropriate.”

  “Christ,” he groaned, shaking his head, not sure if he wanted to laugh or fucking throw me out a window. Maybe he wanted to do both but neither seemed appropriate (or legal). Then, his shoulders began to shake and I realized he was crying. “Fuck Mari…” was all he could say but I heard a wealth of sadness and regret in that one muttered statement.

  I dropped to my knees and crawled over to him where he immediately pulled me into his arms and held me hard.

  I shuddered with relief as I clung to him nearly as tightly.

  Now, we were getting somewhere…

  26

  It was nearing midnight.

  Gage and I were locked in each other’s arms, cocooned in the darkness of the bedroom.

  “Tell me about Dustin,” I said softly, my head resting on Gage’s broad chest.

  Gage took a halting breath and I knew this was going to be like pulling quills from his heart but it needed to be done.

  “Typical fourteen-year-old,” he began with a sigh as he recalled memories. “Cocky, smart as hell. Smarter than me, actually. But unlike me, Dustin had charm. Always managed to get the girls to notice him, even the older ones, like your sister, who he had a crush on, by the way.”

  I smiled. I could only imagine how love-struck a young freshman might’ve been around my sister. She had that ‘good-girl pretty’ thing going on and always had. Unlike me, who had the ‘touch me and die’ look most days. My smile melted into a puzzled frown. “Why didn’t you tell me from the start that we lived in the same town at one point? That you knew me.”

  That part still threw me for a wild loop.

  I felt his body jostle and I knew he was shaking his head. “Mari…Dustin may have had a crush on your sister but the first time I saw you…fuck, it was like a thunderbolt crashed into my chest. I wanted to ask you out but I was already graduated and my dad…well, I didn’t want you to see what a fucking psychopath he was.”

  That I could understand. I wish we’d met before the tragedy of his brother being killed. Maybe our paths would’ve been different.

  “I never forgot you, Mari. No matter where I went, you were always there…the dream girl who I’d never have a shot with. When I happened to discover you working at that dive bar, by complete accident I swear, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

  Puzzled, I replayed events in my head. “But when we first met you pretended not to know me at all. I mean, why?”

  “You have to understand, I knew I didn’t deserve someone like you but I was a selfish enough bastard to still go after what I wanted. It was easier to tell myself that if I paid you, I’d never have to worry about you falling for me…even if I’d fallen for you way before you ever knew.” He drew a short breath, blowing it out with a bemused chuckle, adding, “Boy, I fucked that one up, didn’t I?”

  “I happen to be a card-carrying member of the Fuck Up Club,” I teased. “We offer snacks and zero judgment at all our meetings.”

  He laughed softly. “Is that so? Maybe I’ll join.”

  I smiled, holding him more snugly. “So, why’d you and your family move?” I asked, returning to the subject of his childhood.

  “Because that’s what we did. Daryl always up and moved us when people started noticing shit. I was technically an adult by that point but I couldn’t leave Dustin alone with that dick. I was trying to save up enough money for the both of us to bail when that fucking night happened.”

  Any semblance of jocularity evaporated as I held my breath, giving Gage the space he needed to tell the story at his own pace.

  This moment felt crucial to any kind of future we might have together. If it were within my power, I’d wave a magic wand and wish away all his pain but as much as it sucked, I knew he had to go through the fire to get to the other side.

  Healing was a bitch that way.

  “The shot wasn’t meant for Dustin,” Gage admitted, his voice cracking along with my heart. “Fucking idiot trying to be a hero…”

  He wiped at his eyes, sniffling. My heart cracked at the obvious pain in his voice. When certain guys cried — you know, the hard, stoic type — it was like a bullet to to the heart.

  And right now, my heart was shattering.

  “Daryl and I had gone at it. Fucking asshole was drunk again and when that happened he always tried to beat on one of us. I was bigger than him at that point so he went to hit Dustin. I threw him down. I actually thought maybe I’d put the fear of God into the bastard until he showed back up with his shotgun pointed right at my chest. He was going to fucking shoot me. It all happened so fast, though. The next thing I knew, Dustin was bleeding all over the place, gagging on his own blood and then he was gone.”

  “Oh my God,” I said with true horror. “How awful for you to go through that.”

  Gage choked on his words as he finished, “The little fucker had tried to push me out of the way. Why hadn’t he just let me take the bullet?”

  I closed my eyes, swamped by the horror. I couldn’t imagine losing my sister, especially like that. “Because he loved you,” I answered, sharing the simple truth. “You were his big brother, his protector. He couldn’t possibly just stand there and let that bastard shoot you.”

  “I wish he had.”

  A lump rose in my throat but I remained quiet. Survivor guilt was something that would take time to heal but I would stand by him while he processed through it.

  “The asshole ran as soon as he’d realized what he’d done. Neighbors heard the shot and called police. They found him, slobbering drunk, ranting and raving about how ‘the stupid kid deserved it if it didn’t have the good sense to stay out of the way.’ He went to lock up and then, prison. I never saw him again. The fucker died too easily, in my opinion. Heart attack. Never knew what hit him, according to the prison doctor.”

  “Did you attend the trial?”

  “Nope. I gave my statement and the evidence from the crime scene was overwhelming. Not to mention, my dad pretty much admitted he’d shot Dustin, even going so far as to say he only wished the bullet had kept going and taken out both his ‘bitch-ass bastards.’ The State of Arizona was satisfied with the findings. My dad wasn’t what you’d call an upstanding citizen. A convicted felon and a mean drunk…he didn’t exactly make friends wherever he went. That’s another reason we were always on the move. After he’d burned every bridge, he’d find another place to hole up, steal, sell drugs, whatever he could do without actually holding down a job. Frankly, I was just grateful I’d never had a sister. I have no doubt he would’ve turned her out for cash if he could.”

  I grimaced. “Disgusting,” I said. “I think you’re right…he deserved a much more painful death.”

  “You have no idea.”

  A beat of silence passed before I shared, “My sister said when she asked Dustin about the bruises, he told her it was from dirt-biking.” If only I could rewind time to change the outcome. “If he’d told the truth…”

  “It wouldn’t have mattered. Daryl always seemed one step ahead of social services. It was always like that. It was safer to lie than deal with his wrath.” He shifted, wincing a little. “It’s easy to beat the system if you know what you’re doing. You have no idea how many kids die at the hands of their dirtbag parents because the adults know how to manipulate the checks and balances. My dad kept us moving all the time. The only reason I managed to graduate was because I always handled the school registrations. I made sure Dustin and I’s credits always transferred but it wasn’t easy. Daryl hated school but he knew if he didn’t send us, he’d attract even more attention than if he didn’t.”

  My parents had been annoying at times but I’d never had to
deal with abuse. I felt bad for being such a difficult bitch when I’d had it pretty good. I cringed to think of how I’d taken for granted the opportunity to receive an education without having to fight and scrabble for every credit earned.

  Comparatively, I’d been a spoiled brat. No wonder my parents had been at their wit’s end with me by the end of high school. I won’t even mention the idiotic things I did in college.

  I drew a breath, shaking off my thoughts. “Where is Dustin buried?” I asked.

  “A state-run cemetery for orphans and kids in foster care,” Gage answered. I could feel the regret in his tone. “I always hated that but it’s not as if I had anywhere better to lay him to rest. We never had a home base. But to be honest, I couldn’t even say Dustin’s name without breaking down and I had a company to run. It was easier to just stuff my feelings down and move on.”

  “Easier, not healthier.”

  “Clearly,” he agreed dryly, pointing to the bloody towel wrapped around his calf.

  I could suggest moving Dustin to a place closer to Gage but I really didn’t think now was the time to start talking about digging up his brother. Maybe when the time was right, I’d broach the subject again but for now, I was happy to listen.

  “So how’d you get to New York?” I asked, curious.

  He actually chuckled, the rueful sound telling a story. “I stumbled around Arizona for awhile, found out I had a knack for numbers. I took a few community college courses in basic business, finance, the usual, and then I started looking for ways to put that knowledge to use but Arizona was a bust so I bailed as soon as I had enough money to travel and I headed for New York.”

  “And then what?” I asked, amused. “You just happened to stumble on the sacred How To Become A Billionaire playbook?”

  “Not exactly. But it is how I met Reece. In a bar, actually. We hit it off, became fast friends, and he invited me to intern at Buchanan Enterprises.”