“What the fuck!” The guy finally managed to cry, scrambling up to his feet in the mud. He looked utterly terrified of me. “Leave me alone! What’s your deal?”
Talking time was over. I punched him in the face. My fist stung when it came up for the second swing, but I pushed through the pain to smash my knuckles into his nose again. By the third punch, I was really beginning to get the hang of it. The fourth blow connected better with his squishy face, and I felt the cartilage of his nose crunch and deform under my fist.
A dark stream of blood began running from the side of his mouth, and his eye area looked weird and shiny. The blood was looked black in the low light. He held up both his hands palm forward. Was he surrendering? Fuck that. What a revolting little coward. He was fine with hurting girls, but he hadn’t even fought back against someone his own size. His plaintive gesture only made me hate him more.
I kicked him again, this time in the shin. His knees instantly buckled under him and he slouched forward. He was somewhat smaller and shorter than me, but still quite a bit larger than either Madison or Clara. He probably weighed twice what Clara did. I’d only estimate her at about one hundred pounds dripping wet. Not to mention that I knew for a fact that Angelica’s sister was sixteen years old. But even if I didn’t know that Clara was underage, I sure as hell could tell just by looking. Fuck. Clara was so small she could pass for a middle schooler. I may not be a fantastic person, but this guy didn’t deserve mercy.
This guy didn’t deserve oxygen.
He was crying. Blubbering, actually. He covered his broken nose with one palm and held the other hand out defensively. The sight of his own blood was clearly upsetting to him. Behind me, I could hear my cousin Nathan yelling something as he approached rapidly from the house. Nathan’s words were just noise compared to the roaring fury in my head. I struck the guy in front of me again, this time with an open palm. After being slapped, he curled up into a fetal position in the mud, wiggling around like a worm.
I shifted my weight to kick him some more, ready to keep hurting him until he either fought back or… something, but Nathan grabbed my shoulder. He twisted me to face him. His eyes were wide and frightened.
“Alex,” he whispered urgently in my ear, gripping my shoulder in a death-grip, “you gotta’ stop this right now. Don’t you know who this is?”
“I don’t care,” I replied, biting out the words in anger, “he’s a fucking creep. He tried to rape Clara Ellis.”
Nathan paused when I said that but dragged me away and around the corner anyway. I tried to wrestle him off and get back to my quarry, but rationality was beginning to return to my mind. The clarity hurt, and I knew it would only get worse. After a brief struggle, I let him lead me away.
Nathan probably saved my life right then. He definitely saved someone’s life.
30
Madison
Eleven years ago…
Alexander Durant got arrested. It was on the radio the next day. In fact, it was everywhere the next day. Every news outlet in the country and all of my social media was lit up and running wild with the story of the billionaire’s kid caught on camera beating the crap out of the governor of California’s son.
Everyone had an opinion and seemed to think they knew exactly what happened. The left wing said it was high time the elites paid the price for their abuses of power. The right wing said Alexander was proof that millennials were an entitled generation without morality. The only thing they agreed about was that Alexander should probably spend some time in jail.
I spent the entire next day texting back and forth with Clara. She was adamant that I tell no one what happened to her at the party. She was ashamed and humiliated, and she said she remembered almost nothing. Reluctantly I agreed. It wasn’t my place to put her bad experience on display. If I said anything, there would be reporters at her door wanting her story. It would only embarrass her further.
Even though I was confused and hurt by Alexander, I couldn’t bear the thought of him being locked up with a bunch of criminals. He may have humiliated me, but I was head over heels infatuated with him. When he kissed me I never wanted him to stop kissing me. I wanted to give him everything. To give him all of me. To make him want me back by any means necessary. Our kiss felt real, even if it was just one kiss. I wanted him like I’d never wanted anyone before and couldn’t imagine ever wanting anyone else. I had to help him if I could.
“Dad,” I pleaded over dinner that evening, “you have to help Alexander. Represent him. I was there and those videos don’t tell the whole story.” I didn’t want to admit everything that happened at the party, and I’d promised Clara, but I would break my promise if that was what it would take to save Alexander. “Is it true his family hasn’t even bailed him out?”
My dad sighed and pushed the remains of his mashed potatoes around his plate. Eventually he set down the fork and met my expectant gaze with his tired one.
“Maddie, sweetheart, you don’t understand how this works. I’m not his father’s personal attorney, and I’m definitely not his attorney. I work for their business, Durant Industries. I don’t even practice criminal law.”
“I understand just fine. You could still help him even if you can’t be his lawyer. You could recommend a good criminal defense attorney or a firm or something. Help get him out of jail at least.” I tried not to sound whiny and desperate, but every time I pictured Alexander in a prison cell, I felt the desperation growing inside me like a tumor.
“I suggested that already, sweetie. The Durant family has all the numbers for the best the defense bar has to offer at their fingertips.” He looked a bit sad when he said this, which only made me more curious.
“I don’t get it, then. Why is he still locked up? It’s not like they don’t have money for bail.” If their house was any indication, the Durant family could probably just purchase the state of Philadelphia to get him out if they wanted to.
“It’s all politics,” my mom interjected, the distaste in her voice obvious to me even then, “the Durant family is always tied up in political stuff.”
“What do you mean?” I asked my mom curiously. How could Alexander’s arrest possibly be political? He definitely beat that guy up. I was pretty sure I knew exactly why, and it had nothing to do with politics.
“Your mom’s right,” my dad continued, “it is political.”
“How?” I pushed. My dad shook his head at me, but my mom nudged him with her elbow. He looked at her with skepticism.
“If you want her to follow in your footsteps and become a lawyer,” she cajoled, “you ought to just tell her what representing clients is really like. She thinks she’ll be saving the world. It’s not always that simple.”
My dad pushed his glasses up his nose before making a little noise of agreement.
“Ok. You’re right,” my dad said, “Madison, you know that the Durant family owns a huge chemical company called Durant Industries. And you know that huge chemical companies don’t like environmental regulations because they cost money to comply with, and that lowers their profits. California is the state with the most intense and strict environmental regulations in the country. Any questions so far?”
I shook my head impatiently. Of course, I knew this stuff. I was seventeen, not twelve. None of this seemed to have anything at all to do with Alexander.
“Great,” my dad continued, “so right now, Durant Industries has a bunch of chemical storage facilities in California. But there are some people, including the governor there, who think that the facilities are unsafe for the environment. They would like for Durant Industries to relocate the chemicals somewhere else. Somewhere outside of California.”
“That’s great Dad, but what does this have to do with anything?” I was running out of patience on this topic. It was totally unrelated to Alexander.
“I’m getting there, Maddie.” My dad replied patiently, “The governor of California supports some new environmental legislation that will make it really diffic
ult for Durant Industries to continue to operate its facilities. At the same time, Durant Industries has been lobbying the California legislature to stop the passage of the bill. The governor was here with her family to visit with Alexander’s dad to see if they could compromise on the legislation. That’s why the governor’s son was at the party with you last night.
“When Alexander and the governor’s son got into a fight and someone called the police, the governor realized she had an opportunity to manipulate Alexander’s dad. Usually when two young men get into a fight at a party, even if the police get involved, people would work things out themselves. They wouldn’t press charges or have someone sit in jail for more than a couple hours. If every fistfight resulted in a court case we’d need a thousand percent increase in the number of judges. Usually people don’t want to bother with it.
“But the governor thought that if she threatened to press charges and release the video that she could make Alexander’s dad change his mind about the opposition to the environmental legislation. She thought that he wouldn’t want either the embarrassment to his family or any harm to befall his son and would rather just lose the chemical facilities. In the middle of the night last night the governor called and threatened him, but she underestimated him, too. Alexander’s dad was angry when she tried to blackmail him. He called her bluff and released the footage himself. He said publicly that he wouldn’t bail his son out of jail or help with his defense, and called out the governor, embarrassing her instead. Plus, her son fought like a pansy.”
When my dad finally stopped talking, my mind was spinning madly. That whole explanation made me feel awful. The political strategy was brilliant in a way, I supposed, but mostly just plain awful.
This isn’t the way the world is supposed to work.
“So, basically what you’re saying is that Alexander’s dad cares more about the chemical storage facilities in California than he does about his own son?” I finally asked, frowning.
My Dad looked at me with a bemused look on his face. My mom smirked at him and he waved her off. He sighed again.
“That’s one way to look at it,” he admitted, “but you could also say that it was principled of him not to allow himself to be blackmailed by a politician who would use her own son as a political pawn. We shouldn’t forget that Alexander is also a fully-grown man with a college degree. He’s not a child. He shouldn’t have done what he did, period. Outside of war or defending one’s family and property, there are very few situations where physical violence is the right course of action. I’m sure that this will be a hard lesson, but now he knows that his family won’t just come and cover up for his bad decisions.”
I chewed on that theory for a second. All of those things were also correct. But for some reason, it didn’t ring true. I hoped it was true, for Alexander’s sake. Either his father was a jerk who cared about him or a jerk who didn’t. I was suddenly glad my dad wasn’t a jerk like his.
“Is that what you think he did it for, Dad?” I finally asked him. My dad had known the Durant family for a long time. He had worked for them going on twenty years, and practically grew up with Alexander’s Dad before that. They were close friends when they were kids. He’d said in the past that when Alexander’s mom died a few years ago from cancer, that Alexander’s dad had become a completely different person. He never said if the change was good or bad though.
“I don’t know, Maddie. I do know that sometimes when people live on the economic extremes, either they have too much money or not enough, it seems to muddy the waters and make things a lot more complicated. People’s decision making isn’t always clear, even to them.”
“But what about Alexander?” I finally ventured, “what’s gonna’ happen to him?”
My dad smiled knowingly.
“Oh, I think he’ll be just fine. The last I heard, his aunt was about to go bail him out. She disagreed with her brother’s decision. She said it was cruel and heartless. He was trying to talk her out of it, but she usually wins. If I had to guess about Alexander’s case, even if he gets the worlds crappiest public defender, he would probably only get convicted of one count of felony assault, serve probation, and be just fine after a year or two. The Durant family always seems to land on their feet.”
31
Alexander
Present day…
I landed flat on my face. When Salvador, the gigantic FBI man, pulled me out of the room and shoved me into the hallway, I didn’t have time to fight back. By the time I could think or breathe again and lift myself up off the carpet and onto my hands and knees, the moment of chaos had already passed. When Frank pulled the gun out and was about to point it at Madison, Salvador practically singlehandedly threw the rest of the room’s occupants out into the hallway.
His reaction time was unreal. I’d never seen anything like it before. The man was a giant. Using his super-long, super-strong gorilla arms, he just grabbed each person and launched them behind himself like weightless stuffed animals. Within seconds, it was just Salvador, Frank, and Madison in the conference room. If I hadn’t witnessed it myself, I never would have believed that someone so big could move so fast.
He blocked the door with his bulk and closed it behind him once we were all out. Slammed it shut and sealed Frank, Madison and himself in the conference room alone. Away from me. Madison was trapped in there with a gun to her head. I reacted, but it was already too late.
“No! Madison!” I screamed, launching myself back at the door and feeling people from all sides instantly grab at my arms and pull me back. I was babbling and pushing wildly at whoever was nearest to me. Much of what I was saying was profanity mixed with nonsensical variations on “Let me go. Let me go. Let me in.”
I may not have kickass FBI training, but I needed to get into that room immediately and help Madison. She was so close to me, just a two-inch door separated us, but I couldn’t get to her. Tèo and my father restrained me, and I tried in vain to shake them off, even swinging my fists at them. Wallace and McKinney appeared from somewhere to grab Madison’s dad who was making a similar, futile attempt to get back inside. Clark and I exchanged a look of complete helplessness and fear.
“Get them out of the hallway! All of them. Put them across the hall,” Wallace was yelling, “because we need to clear this hallway immediately. Everyone move!”
I’m strong and tall, but I was no match for three people of my approximate size, especially when practically hysterical, and still suffering from bruised ribs. At the FBI’s prompting, my captors dragged me backwards and into the conference room directly across the hall. Luisa had disappeared, no doubt taken somewhere more private by the FBI. There were uniformed people of all types now swarming everywhere, seemingly summoned out of thin air. The rest of our group quickly filed in, or (in Madison’s father’s case) were deposited, to sit around a table in a mirror-image of the conference room we’d just been in. It was identical here in this second room, only flipped and without the large picture windows since it was on the interior of the building. And of course, Madison wasn’t with us. She was across the hall with gun-waving Frank and super-human Salvador.
I felt like I was about to be seriously ill. My head had started to ache tremendously from its collision with the ground and my bruised ribs were pulsating with pain from being body slammed by Salvador, but the real discomfort was coming from the fear that something bad was happening to Madison in that room. Before I got thrown out of the room by gorilla-armed Agent Salvador, I’d caught the look in Madison’s eyes.
I’d seen a wide selection of Madison’s kaleidoscopic expressions over the past few days. Watching her emote was fascinating. Joy, fear, anger, pleasure, irritation, disappointment, concern, frustration, sorrow, elation, and the list could go on and on. She’s exquisitely beautiful all the time, but never more than when she’s taken with high emotion.
But the expression in her eyes when I lost sight of her, the frightened desperation in her gaze as she locked eyes with me before the do
or slammed shut, I never wanted to see that again. It ripped a hole in my heart and now I thought I was hemorrhaging internally, bleeding out on the inside even if there was no wound on my chest. I had to get back to her and make her safe. I had to take that expression away forever and hurt whoever made her feel that way. That was the only thing that could fix me now. If anything bad happened to her, I knew it would kill us both.
I wanted to cry and scream, or hit and kick people, or hide up in a hole and cower. My own emotional responses seemed to be all out of whack. My hands had begun shaking wildly and I was starting to feel very, very cold. I was a complete wreck. All I was really capable of in that moment, since my attempts to get to Madison had been foiled, was staring anxiously at my surroundings. I sat in the chair I’d been put in and waited for something. Was I waiting for the sound of gunfire? Sirens? The sound of Madison opening the door and saying my name? I didn’t even know. I was just waiting. It was all I could do.
Eventually the door did open. In reality, only a few seconds had passed, but it felt like a thousand years. My attention locked onto the action like a heat-seeking missile. Maybe it was Madison.
It was McKinney.
Ordinarily, I would have been irritated or skeptical toward any McKinney-related interaction, but at the moment I was so shell-shocked and frightened that I’d take what I could get. I just wanted news. I sat up and listened attentively.
“Ok folks,” McKinney began, and he looked and sounded like he’d aged ten years in the last two hours, “we’ve got a team on the roof next door and our boss Salvador in the room with the suspect and Madison. Salvador is negotiating, and of course we’ve got ears in the room and in the hallway. We’re doing the best we can. If we can’t come to a quick resolution, we will give the go-ahead to the sniper.”
Bleeding Heart Page 17
