Anchor

by M. Mabie

  “Just hold off on anything. I’ll call the lawyer tomorrow and see what he thinks. The way he’s trying to spin it is full of holes. Reggie was there with me. He was holding a gun and didn’t put it down—even when the police told him to. Fuck. He was going to shoot me. Who knows what he would have done had he gotten you upstairs. Was he going to threaten you? Or worse?” He let out a huff of breath and the breeze blew my hair. “I can’t even think about that.”

  “Well, what am I going to do? I can’t let him push me around. I can’t just accept him saying that.”

  “Shh, I’ll take care of it. He’s not going to do anything. Okay, honeybee? He can’t do anything to us.”

  I wanted to believe him. I didn’t know what Casey could do, other than go with me when I told my story, but I was confident he’d be by my side and I’d be by his. We’d figure out something. We always did.

  We both lay there in silence. Thinking. Looking for an answer for a long time.

  “Casey?” I finally said, drowsiness sweeping into me and swirling my thoughts to other things.

  “Yeah,” he said, holding on to me as I rolled over and put my back to his chest.

  “I really want some chocolate cheesecake.” Even as I heard the words come out of my mouth I knew they were random. Being tired sometimes does that to you.

  “Then we’ll get you some tomorrow. You just sleep.”

  Curled into his warm body, I fell off into a deep slumber. I’d told him what had happened, I trusted that together we’d be able to handle anything. Being in love might pack on twice as much trouble, but being in love with the right person—well, that’s when you never have to carry anything alone.

  We made an unstoppable pair. A team. A force to be reckoned with. I fell asleep feeling better knowing he was there and I was in his strong arms.

  I’d dare anyone to test our love. They wouldn’t stand a chance.

  Tuesday, June 15, 2010

  I DON’T THINK HE quite understood who the fuck he was messing with. I wasn’t some chump who was going to let some bastard terrorize my girl. Terrorize me. Not when the biggest thing she should be worrying about was feeling better and trying to guess when I was going to put a ring on her pretty little finger. I wasn’t proud that I’d stolen his girl, but I sure as fuck had. And I’d fucking ruin everything else in his pathetic humdrum life if he didn’t back the fuck off.

  Now.

  No more was I wait-and-see Casey. The days of letting someone else determine any factor in how our future would go were over.

  I called the shots.

  I made the rules.

  And it was time I told him how shit was going to go. Then enforce it.

  With Blake soundly dreaming by my side, I lay in bed that night and plotted. I ran every possible scenario over and over in my mind constructing a plan. I wasn’t able to protect her from him that night. That would never happen again.

  Around one in the morning, I knew what I was going to do.

  “Yeah, I’ll tell her,” I promised Reggie as we talked the next morning. I called him to see if he had any more information, while Blake was making coffee for Troy and me. He pretty much confirmed everything Blake said. I told him Blake confided in me, and I was surprised when he didn’t ask for details—and I didn’t offer them. It wasn’t my story to tell. Besides, Reggie flying in to kill her ex-husband wouldn’t do any of us good. And it would fuck up my plan.

  “Good. So I’ll see you guys this weekend. I’m coming in on Thursday to make my statement again, and I think Mom and Dad want to have an anniversary dinner since their party was postponed.”

  “Okay, I’ll let you know how it goes. See you later.”

  It was pretty early, and I hadn’t gotten the best sleep, but I was wired. My spine was full of steely determination. Even before coffee.

  “You guys are going in so early.” She yawned, still wearing the clothes she’d slept in.

  “Early bird gets the beer,” Troy joked as he zipped up his bag and set it by the door. “Hey, I still need to go pick up the car this morning. And not that your spare bed isn’t comfortable, but I think I’m going to check into a hotel tonight.”

  “Good, you drank all my beer anyway,” I jested.

  I made my way around the counter to my girl and planted a quick kiss on her lips. Then I gave her another, because one small kiss wasn’t enough. “I’ll see you later. Call me if you need anything and wait on what we talked about last night, okay? I’ll call you.”

  “Okay. I think I’ll hang out most of the day, maybe see what Audrey is doing for lunch.”

  I’m pretty sure the little shit was headed back to bed. Or at the very least to lay on the couch and watch television. It wasn’t quite six yet. I knew that’s what I’d rather be doing. But I had shit to do.

  I made one phone call on the way to the brewery. Troy didn’t ask any questions.

  “We’re picking up your rental about ten,” I told him. There was no doubt he could tell I was working things over in my mind, and by the sound of the message I’d left, today wasn’t going to be a normal day at work.

  I didn’t ask much out of people. It was a rare day that I asked for favors, but I was calling one in. I needed Troy. Well, I needed someone and I had Troy.

  Ten o’clock came and we’d picked up the car he’d arranged.

  I sat in an empty booth waiting. I’d never done anything like what I was about to do. It’s interesting about what they say when push comes to shove. I’d been pushed and pushed, but I had yet to push back. Learning what I had the night before was a shove. A deliberate, two-handed shove. That day I was doing the shoving. And someone would be flying right off the fucking cliff.

  The bell rang above the door and since it was too late for the breakfast crowd and a little too early for people coming in for lunch, I assumed it was him. I looked at my watch. Apparently my message was loud and clear. My guest was on time to the minute.

  I wasn’t facing the door, but I didn’t have to be. I heard his breathing. I listened to his steps. My blood boiled, but I put a lid on it. Every muscle in my body wanted to rage, to tear, to pound and maim. But my mind was focused with razor-sharp clarity.

  This.

  Motherfucker.

  Was.

  Mine.

  Grant took a seat across from me and I sipped my coffee. I knew he’d show. He looked around for someone to serve him, but no one came out. That made me grin. It gave me pleasure watching him not get what he wanted, even if it was something as insignificant as a cup of coffee.

  “Your message said you wanted to talk. Have you forgotten you have a restraining order?”

  So it was going to start like that. He looked pretty normal, as I took stock of him and his goofy L.L. Bean wardrobe. He was lame. Even his clothes annoyed me, so I didn’t answer. I was going to make him wait.

  Taking another long sip from my hot mug, I stared at him. Ask me if I gave a fuck if it made him uncomfortable, which it obviously did by the way he ticked his finger against the Formica. I leaned back in the booth and tilted my head. I was being cocky. I was good at it.

  “What the hell do you want?” he demanded after a few minutes, an ugly snarl on his face.

  “I don’t want anything from you. I have everything I’ve ever wanted. In fact, I’m here to offer you something.”

  This made him laugh.

  Chuckle all you want, you piece of shit. We’ll see who’s laughing in a minute.

  So I laughed with him. Mocking him was fun. It took my mind off ripping his throat out of his pompous neck and getting blood all over his predictable fucking polo shirt. The image was enough.

  The bell above the door rang again and it snapped me out of the homicidal thoughts I’d been fantasizing about.

  After that day, I’d put it behind me. For the moment, I enjoyed it.

  The newest patron sat behind me in the booth next to ours. I knew exactly who it was, but he didn’t.

  “What do you think you can gi
ve me that I’d even want?”

  What didn’t I have that he wanted? I’d start small.

  “I’m offering you an easy way out. Sure, you’ve got a few other things you have to deal with. What was that? A resisting arrest charge? You’ll be able to clean that up in a few months. I’m offering you a chance to get away with attempted murder, felony battery charges, and let’s face it, probably a few more than that. So, in a way, I‘m offering you your job, your family’s reputation, your house, your friends—do you have any friends? Anyway, basically your life as you know it.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He played dumb.

  I figured he would at first. I just needed to piss him off a little more.

  “Maybe if you’re lucky you’ll find some other woman to show mild interest in and convince her to marry you. Hey, maybe you’ll actually fall in love. Just like Blake and I did.”

  His eyes dilated. It wasn’t about her; it was about his pride. His ego. His image. Losing. I wondered if he ever loved her the way she thought he did. Maybe he honestly didn’t know the difference. That concept almost made me feel bad for the dick, but not quite.

  “You have no control over that. In fact, I could offer you the same thing. I think the police may be contacting you about the home invasion I reacted to that night.”

  Liar, liar. Khakis on fire.

  “You can say what you want. Do what you have to do.” I finished my cup of coffee just as the sweet, older shop owner came back out. She walked over to the table behind me and took my best friend’s order.

  Troy had done exactly what I’d asked him to do. Be a pawn. Give an illusion. And for the moment, he was just some dude in the booth behind us.

  “Exactly, we’ll see what happens,” he sneered.

  I pushed my empty cup to the edge of the table top, and she topped it off as she walked by, not saying a word to Grant.

  He might disagree, but I loved the service there. Paid the sweetheart to go along with my “practical joke” not to serve my friend. His face was priceless registering he’d been blatantly ignored. Fifty dollars well spent.

  “See the thing is, your story only works if Blake doesn’t remember.”

  “Well, she doesn’t. That’s what the detectives said. So now it’s just your word against mine.”

  “And Reggie’s. I doubt he’ll soon forget the sight of his sister after what you did.” I’d done a good job maintaining self-control, but thinking about that sight threw kerosene on my temper and topped it off with a match. “Don’t you remember? The blood? Her passed-out cold, dead for all you knew? What was it that you said to her? ‘Get up, you bitch.’ Yeah, I remember that, too.”

  I took deep breaths and did everything in my power to stay where I was. The urge to hurt him was powerful, but that wasn’t the way. It was one of the ways. I’d considered them all. But it wasn’t the best way for Blake.

  “And?” he pressed, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

  “And she remembers all of it. The way you pulled her up the stairs, by her arm and her hair, when she told you she was leaving. The way you hit her back when she was trying to get away. She remembers how you snatched her head so hard you ripped the skin apart. You fucking bastard, she remembers it all.”

  His skin grew pale and he didn’t move. His eye contact broke and now focused on the table. The second he knew he was fucked was validation. Was proof. Was insurance.

  “So, you listen to me. You get off scot-free. As much as I’d love to see you rot for a few years behind bars—which still might happen if you don’t weasel your way out of everything—she’d rather not ever look at your miserable goddamned face again. That’s what she wants, but don’t be mistaken—” I lifted the envelope, I’d had on the booth seat next to me, “—we will see you in court, if that’s the way you want to go. It would be pretty incriminating to match her teeth to the nice bite on your leg, wouldn’t it?”

  I watched his eyes land on the manila envelope I’d brought with me. I leaned back and took another sip. He was playing right into my hand. There was dread and fear in his eyes.

  “That, Grant, is her statement. Written by her and notarized with today’s date. All you have to do is get the fuck out of my life and I’ll let you keep yours. Because she’s ready to do whatever it takes to make you go away. You can do it on your own, or we’ll watch a bailiff escort you to your new address. Your choice.”

  After he thought about it for a little bit, I thought I saw him coming around to the logic of what I was offering him. But that dirty cocksucker still had a little fight left in him.

  “It’s still her word against mine and we both know she’s not known for telling the truth.” His voice held none of the power he tried to convey with his words. It sounded like an excuse. Like one last cheap shot. Cheap, just like him.

  “Only she isn’t lying and everyone knows it, and while you’re in prison, we’ll be having a wedding and a honeymoon and a life … and you know what the best part is? She’ll only ever be thinking about me when I’m inside her.”

  “She deserved what she got. The cheating bitch is lucky that’s all I did, but I should’ve shot you,” he growled through gritted teeth. That would have made me lose my mind … if I didn’t just get it all on tape. If I didn’t know that I could ruin his life.

  “Probably, but it wouldn’t change anything for you. See, you’ve got this one chance. Just one. Understand me?” I stared deep into his icy, evil eyes. “Oh, and if you need any more persuasion,” I added slowly, knowing that this would be it, “the guy behind me is Officer Paul Summers with SPD. He’s been recording this whole conversation. Just in case I needed anything, you know, because of my restraining order.”

  Troy raised his hand, but didn’t turn around. In it was a tape recorder and he pressed stop at that exact moment.

  I hunched forward over the table and grabbed him by the ugly shirt in one swift movement. I spoke low enough for him to hear me with a tone that wasn’t easily misunderstood.

  “If you ever consider contacting Blake, her family, or me ever again, I will beat you within an inch of your pathetic fucking life with my bare hands. No gun needed. Then I’ll make what you have left a reality so ugly, you’ll wished I killed you.” I released my hold and patted his shirt flat. “Capisce?”

  He didn’t say anything, but I saw it in his eyes. I saw the surrender. That wasn’t good enough.

  I snatched him up with both hands the second time, even faster than I had before. My knuckles white as I lifted him out of the booth and onto his toes.

  “I don’t think you fucking heard me. Grant? Do. You. Understand. Me? Yes or fucking no?”

  “Yes,” he spat. “Yes, I understand.”

  I dropped him just like that, and walked toward the counter to look at their selections, while saying, “Good, have a nice life. You’re welcome.”

  He didn’t wait around and that was good for both of us. I exhaled to expel the extra energy that was wild in my veins as I heard the bell above the door chime. I hoped that was the last time I ever saw that prick, and something about the look in his eyes said he knew he’d lost and it was over.

  My heart was pumping. I so wanted to hit the fucker, but I was fairly certain what I’d just done was the hit that would count. I felt good. Alive. As if I’d finally fought for my girl and won.

  I looked in the glass case and saw exactly the one she’d want.

  The lady came out and gave me I-know-that-wasn’t-a-practical-joke eyes. I returned them with I’m-sorry-that-got-out-of-hand-but-my-honeybee-needed-help-and-you’re-lucky-I-didn’t-murder-him eyes. She swatted her hand towel at me over the top of the pristine glass case.

  “I need two Quadruple Chocolates.”

  I looked over my shoulder at Troy, still sitting in the booth behind where Grant and I were sitting.

  “Troy, do you want cheesecake?”

  We both knew he’d just broken a law for me. A pretty big one too. Impersonation of an offic
er is serious business. I wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t the only way. The way that could get him out of our lives. A way that Blake wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore. Not ever again.

  “Strawberry,” he said, looking at me like he’d never met me before.

  “Better make it two strawberries, four Quadruple Chocolates, and two of those pecan-y looking ones over there.”

  She packaged them up the way I asked her to and we were off. Troy with his cheesecakes in his rental, and me with mine. He was headed back to the brewery, but I still had one more errand. I hoped Blake's mom wouldn’t mind if I kept honeybee’s cheesecake in her refrigerator. I was bringing her some, too, after all. And if she were anything like her daughter, she’d do just about anything for it.

  “So do you know what you’re looking for?” asked the cheery-eyed sales lady. She’d been helping another woman when we first came in, but now her focus was set on us and the display case of engagement rings we were hovering over. I’d picked Blake's mom up to help me. My girl wanted to get married and far be it from me to make her wait any amount of time longer than necessary. Honestly, I wanted the same thing.

  Her divorce was final.

  Grant eradicated from our lives was final. I’d made sure of that. The look on his face said it, and when he voiced his consent, I heard it. It was even evident in the hunch of his angry, defeated shoulders as he left the bakery. I was through messing around with that shit-stain.

  I think I might have even scared Troy a little. That or impressed him.

  But all of that was over. What I wanted to remember about that day was that I found the perfect engagement ring for my honeybee. That her mom and I found one she’d cherish forever.

  Kara Warren was a lady. She wore cream dress pants and a peach-colored blouse. She wore pearls and her hair was perfect and just so. I wondered if she normally looked so put together or if this was a special occasion.

  Almost everything about how we’d met had been backwards. We were both wrecked when Blake had been in the hospital, but she looked really pretty on ring shopping day.