Watching Ember

by J B Reding

  “Sweetheart, you ain’t foolin’ no one.” His southern accent lets me know that my dad's enemies have finally grown enough balls to follow me here. Which also lets me know that despite his words, he's still wary of me. And he should be. After all, I am my father’s daughter.

  I smirk as I flip the safety off. “You sure? I think you may be mistaken.”

  He immediately let's go of my ankle and jumps up to standing, his back facing the other hall. He moves a lot faster than I’d thought he’d be capable. Slimly little fucker.

  He goes to reach behind him for what I assume is his own gun, but I pull the trigger, hitting him in the right shoulder, incapacitating him. Screams let out below as the gunshot echoes in the otherwise empty hallway. My ears ring, but I ignore it as I watch the man stumble farther down the darkened hall. I keep my gun focused on the asshole. “Who sent you?”

  “Bitch. I ain’t tellin’ you nothin’.” He grits out, his hand trying to staunch the bleeding. “But know this… we ain’t done with you yet.” He backs away until he's absorbed into the darkness.

  I flip the safety on my gun and place it back in my thigh holster. Straightening my dress, I turn towards the stairs and come up short. A man stands at the other end with a gun hanging by his side.

  Well, fuck me.

  I go to reach for my gun again, but a familiar voice stops me. “Ember, it's me.”

  ‘Fuck me’ is right.

  2. The Reunion

  Hearing the gunshot sent my heart into a panic. I knew I should have gone inside. Instead, I had a stakeout from across the street. But I knew she had the gun and I knew Ember would pull the trigger if she had to. I just didn’t expect her to have to.

  I snatch my gun from the passenger seat and run for the house, fighting my way through the panicked crowd spilling out the door. Two of my guys go around the back of the house to keep a look out for anything suspicious.

  I storm into the living room, doing a quick scan of the room, my gun hanging low. At this point in time, I don’t care about anyone seeing. Hopefully, they’re too distracted by their fear to notice.

  I don’t believe she would have shot someone around so many people, which leaves upstairs. I take the stairs two at a time, reaching the top just in time to see Ember place her gun in her thigh holster. I catch a glimpse of lavender lace before she straightens her dress. I push the image of her in nothing but those away.

  She finally turns towards me, stopping short at seeing another person looming in the darkend hallway. She makes a move for her gun.

  “It’s me, Ember.” I try to reassure.

  “Nixon?” She gasps, shock shining in her eyes. She walks towards me. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’ll tell you in the car, but we have to go now.” I reach for her wrist when she’s close enough and drag her down the stairs behind me. I hear sirens in the distance as we rush out of the house and to my truck. Opening the passenger door for her, I help her climb in.

  I pause. “Are you hurt?”

  She gives me a look. “Really, Nixon. Do you even have to ask?”

  “Just making sure.” I chuckle as I shut the door and round the truck. I slide into the driver's seat and start the car.

  “Again, what are you doing here?” She questions, angling towards me.

  “Call Liz, then I’ll answer your questions.” I put the truck into drive and pull away.

  “Shit, Liz! We can’t leave her here.” She goes to unbuckle her seat belt as if she's going to jump out of a moving vehicle. For Liz, she just might.

  “I saw her get into a car. She’s fine. But you should call and let her know that you’re taken care of.” I urge. I see her nod and take her phone out of somewhere. Not going to think about that either.

  There’s a lot of things I try not to think about when it comes to Ember. Years of memories I’ve had to shove into a box and forget about.

  I feel my phone vibrate as I make my way towards her apartment. I wait until I reach a red light to pull it out.

  Thomas: Found a trail of blood but no body.

  Me: Okay, get out of there. But keep an eye on the cops just in case. And bring Ember's car back.

  Thomas: Yes, sir. Will keep you posted.

  I put the phone down just as the light turns green. Ember finally finishes her conversation with Liz, and I prepare myself for what has to happen next. I have no clue how she’s going to react when I tell her it’s time to come home. I may have known Ember since she was a kid, but more often than not she still manages to surprise me.

  ~***~

  Nixon fucking King.

  My first love.

  First heartbreak. Well, the type of heartbreak only a kid with a crush can have.

  I met Nixon after my mom died. He'd just started working with his dad, who was my father's Underboss and best friend. Now, when I say working, I mean he came over often and sat in on appropriate conversations and got kicked out for the more serious stuff. I’m not all that sure what he did other than that. But when he got sent out, he always found me, and we hung out until he was summoned back.

  Me, being the impressionable nine-year-old that I was, who also happened to go through some trauma beforehand, became attached. Whether or not it was a healthy attachment is beyond me. But it progressed into a stable and mutual friendship despite our seven-year age gap. He was like the brother I never had, minus the brother part, obviously. He was my best friend for the longest time. At least until his father died when I was sixteen.

  He changed after that. Became distant and avoided me at all costs. I don’t know if it was because he became absorbed in taking over his father's position in the business or if he did it deliberately. Either way, it broke my sixteen-year-old heart. Not only because he ignored me, but also because I knew he was hurting. Even if he tried to hide it from the world. Nixon and I had a connection that allowed us to always know when something was wrong with the other.

  Like now, for instance.

  “You okay over there?” He asks.

  I look up at him. “Yeah just reminiscing, I guess.”

  Thinking about the past always puts me in a sullen mood.

  “Yeah…" He pauses, as if he too is thinking about the past. "I have one of my guys getting your car, if you were wondering.”

  Glad he thought of it cause I sure as hell hadn't. “One of your guys?”

  He hesitates, which is laughable because Nixon is almost always sure of himself.

  “Just messing with you, Nixon.” I smile, letting him off the hook. “So, you gonna answer my earlier question?”

  “You’re not gonna say anything about having some guys here?” He shoots me a dubious look.

  “No, I assumed Dad sent someone here to keep watch. And I doubt you traveled alone. Now, stop avoiding the question.”

  “Okay, you’re right.” He sighs, like this is one of the most difficult things he's ever had to say. “I’m here to bring you home.”

  “Okay.” I laugh. “Don’t know why that was so hard to say.”

  “You’re not mad?” He looks at me quickly as if to gage my truthfulness

  “No, I was planning on coming back, anyway. Finals are next week so it’s not a big deal.”

  “I don’t think your dad will be willing to let you stay here for another week after what just happened.”

  I shrug again. “I’ll talk to him. Plus, you’re here and I'm sure you brought either Maddox or Anton with you.”

  “Maddox." He confirms.

  “So, how long have you been here?”

  “How about we save all the question for when we get to the apartment. How was Liz?”

  “Worried but you were right, she got a ride from a friend, so she should get there before us.”

  He nods.

  I know I won’t get anything else out of him, so I lean back in my chair and close my eyes.

  God, Liz is gonna freak when she hears Maddox is here. They have a love-hate relationship. Or I guess hate-hate relationsh
ip. I’m not sure there’s any love between them. I don't know why she hates him so much, since she refuses to tell me.

  Nevertheless, Maddox Rowe is Nixon’s best friend. They met through my dad when Maddox began working for him at sixteen. As the story goes, Maddox was homeless and Dad helped him out of a tight spot and gave him a job. Nixon and Maddox, being the same age, ended up working together on small jobs and eventually became close. Well, that is until you add Anton into the mix two years later. Who, if you ask him, is my favorite and the best out of the three of them.

  Anton William Harris III is a rich playboy, who, at eighteen, decided that being rich wasn't enough and wanted a little danger in his life. At least that’s what he says, I’m sure there’s more to it. Anton has a habit of shutting down when you ask about his past. You wouldn’t think that was the case based on his sparkling personality, but there’s something dark in him. He’s just good at hiding it. Guess that’s what makes him so good at what he does. No one suspects anything is amiss, but bring up his past and you get a glimpse of that darkness.

  Anyway, the three of them are a team, the most feared in the underground.

  I’m snapped out of my thoughts when Nixon pulls up to my apartment.

  “Guess you got all the intel on my life already?” I ask as we exit the truck and head up to the second floor.

  He huffs out a laugh but doesn’t respond.

  “Let me guess, y'all staying in one of the apartments in my building, aren't you?” I laugh. They’re so predictable, it’s funny. I’ve given up on being upset about the almost invasive measures they take when it comes to my safety. I know it’s for the best and I accept it for what it is. I’m not going to be one of those idiots who tries to outrun their security detail just for some freedom. Because to me, the security detail is what keeps me free. I know what it’s like to be caged, so being monitored doesn't bother me much.

  “I see you still have your southern slang.”He smirks. I'm the only one in the group that really has one. Nixon and Dad never did, preferring to talk without any dialect to keep from being profiled. Liz is a little more formal, due to it being drilled into her because of who her family is. Anton is pretty much the same, although, I think he delibertly uses slang out of spite. Maddox… well, Maddox doesn't talk enough for me to be able to catch one “We’re right over there.” Nixon informs me when we reach the second floor landing, tilting his head towards the door catty-corner to mine.

  I roll my eyes with a smile.

  “So, how long have you and Maddox been here?” I ask while unlocking my door.

  “Just a few days. We received a tip that something might go sideways, so we headed out here as a precaution.” He answers while following me inside.

  “Ember!” Liz cries as soon as I walk in. She jumps off the kitchen counter and runs at me, throwing her arms around my neck, causing me to stumble back into Nixon.

  “Easy, Liz.” I laugh. “What’s gotten into you?”

  “What’s gotten into me?” She shrieks. “All of a sudden I hear a gun shot and I’m dragged outside with a stampede of screaming college students. Next thing you know, I get a phone call from you telling me the past has come back to haunt us. Oh, and you fucking SHOT SOMEONE!”

  “Hey, no need for yelling.” Nixon admonishes. He pushes us both farther into the apartment so he can shut the door and lock it.

  “Do not even get me started on you, mister.” She yells some more, stabbing her finger in Nixon’s direction. “Who the hell gave you the right to show up out of the blue, after FOUR fucking years of no contact, acting like everything is all fine and dandy?”

  Nixon bends down and whispers none too quietly. “Is she still drunk?”

  I laugh and turn to face him. “She has a point. What gives?”

  “Things have been complicated.” He begrudges, his walls slamming back into place. I knew this ‘open and unsure’ Nixon wouldn't last.

  “Things are always complicated.” Liz mutters, walking back into the kitchen, and finishing off her glass of what I hope is water. “But Nixon has a point… I’m too drunk for this conversation. So, I’m going to bed and you can fill me in tomorrow.”

  I snort. “Of course. Goodnight.”

  She waves a hand as she walks into her room. Once her door shuts, I turn back to Nixon. “So, what’s up with the radio silence. I mean, I know things weren’t great when I left. What with you practically ignoring me. But the past four years has been a completely different story. There’s been no contact for four years, Nixon! I feel like I should be a lot madder at you than I am, but honestly, it just makes me sad. You were my best friend for the longest time, and then you just shut me out. I get that you lost your dad; I lost him too. But he wouldn’t have wanted you to—”

  “Stop.” And the real Nixon appears. Cue internal eye roll. “It had nothing to do with you,” Of course, it didn’t. I didn’t do anything wrong. “Life just got out of hand. So many things were going on but I did what I could.”

  I sigh. How am I supposed to argue with that?

  “Okay.” I nod, unsure of to do now. “I’m, uh, gonna go get changed. I assume you have to check in with my dad?”

  “Yeah, I have to give him a call.” He pulls his phone out and turns to leave.

  “Stay.” I unconsciously reach for his arm and stop him, a zing electrifies my fingers as I make contact. I snatch it away quickly. “I’ll wait in my room. Knock when you’re done. I’d like to talk to him.”

  He nods, his face guarded.

  I turn and walk to my room, closing the door softly behind me. My forehead softly bangs against the door as I lean against it. My nose burns and my eyes water as I try to hold back all the emotions that seem to have been released with that one singular touch.

  So much fucking shit happened in the last hour.

  I knew tonight would be interesting. But not in a million years did I think it would be like this.

  I stand up straight and suck it up. It’s nothing I haven’t handled before. Not my first time protecting myself and won’t be the last. I think what is getting to me the most, is having Nixon so close and getting a glimpse of how it used to be between us. God, it almost killed me to see those walls come back up. I thought that maybe, just maybe, we had moved on. But, nope. Guess I was wrong. Again.

  I reach under my dress and unstrap my holster and gun, then place it in the nightstand drawer. I pull off my dress as I walk over to my closet, throwing it in the hamper before grabbing a baggy T-shirt to sleep in. I take a seat in front of my vanity and wipe off my makeup before throwing my hair up into a ponytail. Afterward, I flop down onto my bed and wait for the inevitable knock.

  It’s a few minutes later of me staring at the ceiling before it comes. He doesn’t wait for an answer before opening the door. He walks in and hands me the phone, his face giving nothing away.

  “Hey, Dad!” I greet, watching as Nixon exits my room.

  “You're coming home.” He demands right off the bat. My dad struggles with switching off Boss mode sometimes.

  It always makes me smile. “I know. I was going to surprise you. I decided last month, when you were here, that I was going to come home after finals and maybe fine a job.”

  “What about your current job?” He questions, only worried about it now that I brought it up. He thought me having a job would be a good way to build character. We may be wealthy but that doesn’t mean I’m spoiled. Well, to an extent. He still pays for my bills, but that’s just because he likes taking care of me. He’s still trying to make up for those two years he left me with him. Even though I forgave him pretty muchas soon as I was back under his roof. There was no need to dwell on the bad. Especially when, at the first sign of trouble, he stepped in and took care of it. I shake off the memories. Guess it’s a night of reminiscing.

  “Well, I kind of quit.” I admit, coming back to his question. There’s a reason I haven’t told him yet.

  “You quit? Lane’s are not quitters, Ember.” I can h
ear the disappointment in his voice.

  “Yes, but you see the manager was a creep, and he got a little handsy, so, I quit.” I’m just glad Nixon isn’t in here. Lord knows he’d go all hulk smash if he thought I was in trouble. I don’t know what he would have done if he had gotten a hold of that guy tonight. Well, I can imagine, but still, sometimes he can be excessive.

  “You should have told me.” Dad admonishes. I roll my eyes. As if. The dude may be a creep, but he didn’t necessarily deserve to end up dead.

  “You can’t fix everything, Dad.” I sigh. “Plus, you taught me how to handle myself. You should have faith in me.”

  “Yes, I can. And I do have faith in you. It’s those fucking scum bags that I don’t trust. What’s his name?” He demands.

  I laugh. Most people wouldn’t deny my dad when he gives a command, but you see I’m daddy’s little girl, so I get away with a lot more than most. “Nope. Let's get back on track. When I come home is it okay for Liz to stay the summer?” I’m not sure what her plans are for the future but I doubt she has any. She’s more of a live in the moment type of person.

  “Of course. Will her parents mind?” He asks.

  “You know how they are.” Practically non-existent. Her dad is a senator and constantly away on business, and her mother is usually high on prescription drugs or shit faced. She never notices if Liz is there unless she wants something. It’s why Liz spent most of her time at my house when we were younger.

  “Yes, of course." He sighs as if deeply saddened at the reminder. I wouldn’t be shocked if he was. I think he’s always viewed her as another daughter. Always wanting what’s best for her. “Well, I’ll see you in a week, correct?”

  “Yes, Dad.” I smile. I guess Nixon already convinced him to allow me to stay for finals.

  God, I lo- nope not going there.

  “Okay, darling. I love you.” He declares. I can still hear a hint of sadness in his voice.

  “Love you too, Dad.” I murmur, my good mood from talking to him plummeting by the second.

  He hangs up and I walk out to the living room to give Nixon back his phone.