by Paula Cox
CHAPTER 22
The next morning hits me like a runaway freight train. I walk out of bed slowly, tearing the black drapes away. Sunlight beams through the spotty, dusty glass, and I tear myself away quickly. I’m surprised it isn’t raining. The storm inside swarms around me desperately to escape, to paint the rest of the world as black and hopeless.
I don’t know why I even bother to look at my phone. I guess I sort of half expect to see a text from Alana telling me when she’ll pick me up, or a missed phone call with an apology for that post she didn’t see Amy put up. But instead, there’s nothing -- just a missed call from my grandmother and another from a restricted number. Even telemarketers have the guts to go after me today. It almost feels criminal.
There’s more news on the television about the firebombing of the gym. Of course, my name is splashed across the screen. It’s just another tragedy for the ill-fated boxing bad boy, Mr. Murphy. The newscaster wonders out loud if this might have possibly been somehow related to the fight I got my head injury in. I admit I was on that same page too. Now that I knew Amy was going to stop at nothing to get me back -- or to get back at me, whichever came first -- I’m beginning to wonder if the whole quarters in the boxing gloves scheme was her idea as well. It would have made sense with the security change ups. And with her.
That fucking bitch -- I hate to use that word to call any woman that (my grandma taught me so much better and would slap me silly for even thinking it), but if there was ever any girl out there who had earned the bitch medal, it was Amy. She had managed to cause so much physical and emotional damage in just a handful of days that it actually causes me to stop and think through where I’m going next and what I’m planning to do all day. What could I possibly do today that she could have an effect on? If I went out riding, would she find some goons to come scout me and bring me back to her? If I went shopping for new workout trunks, would she pay the cashier to rob me blind? There didn’t seem to be a limit to her madness. That fucking bitch.
At least Alana was free now. Before I went home last night, I had a few guys set up to find and follow her. They were meant to get back the rubies I had left in her truck’s safe and tail her so that I knew Amy wasn’t going to pull some revenge stunt on her. Still, I wonder if I should be doing more. Maybe I should broadcast it to Amy that the two of us are done just so she knows to stay back. But knowing Amy, she’s got her eyes and ears out for any bit of information on me, including if I followed through on cutting Alana out.
So, Alana was on her own now. There was literally nothing else I could do to protect her but make sure she had some backup and do whatever Amy wanted me to do. And I’d have to live with that sinking feeling in my gut that made my feet feel like loose stones on the pavement, always waiting to get dropped.
Life had to go on. I had to go back to being Mr. Murphy, at least for a few more days so I could get through my last fight and make the pros. Then I could be done with the bullshit that has become Steel Saints. If Amy was top of my list of grievances, the fucking boys that were supposed to be loyal to me were a pretty goddamned close second. I try to focus all my rage towards them as I pull my Harley back out with a scream towards the main drag. Speeding through reds and yellows, I head towards Geno’s Pawn and Jewelry.
I have known Geno for pretty much my entire life, since I was in diapers at least. He was a friend of my grandfather’s when he was alive, and he always made sure my grandma got a great gift for Christmas -- whether it was a stolen flat screen or a brand new locket fresh off some tourist’s neck. She never suspected, I don’t think. She was even thrilled when I told her I was bringing Geno into my “security” business. It was a great cover in case I ever got caught over there.
“Liam! My man!” Geno stands up slowly from his brown folding chair. By his crisp, golden skin and the pile of fresh cigarette butts, I can tell he’s been baking outside all morning waiting for some customers to swing by. “How you doing? I hear you got some goods for me!”
Geno opens the door and ushers me quickly in. He runs to the two storefront windows and turns the open signs to closed and pulls down the drapes. He then hustles back to the jewelry case and grabs a large, bulky fireproof safe. At this point, he knew the drill. We had enough dealings with stolen merchandise to get this dance down to a science. His hands open and close, quickly begging me to come join him.
I pull out the green velvet sack where the diamonds have been stashed. Business was good to me, and my new dealer had loads of connections, but there were a handful left that weren’t as pristine as the rest to be sold on the high-end black market. These, I put aside for Geno. He may run a pawn and jewelry shop, but the guy did not have the expert eye of the rest.
The fingernail-sized diamonds slide out of the bag and onto the jewelry holder Geno has laid out. He uses a small eyeglass to examine each one, taking notes as he goes. Every once in a while, he lets out a heavy sigh and says something vague like, “I see… I see…” This was how Geno played all of our deals -- calm and collected until the real haggling started.
Finally, he took the black eyeglass down and looked me in the eye with an arm outstretched, “I’ll give you $20 g’s.”
“$20,000? You have got to be kidding me, Geno.” And here comes the waltz between two criminals. He wants to lead, but I am not giving up so easily. “I just sold an entire bag of these for $60 million. The only reason why I brought them to you was because we’re friends.”
“Friends?” He laughs heartily. “We’re not friends when we’re making big cash deals. But for you, for the son I never had, I’ll go up to forty. That’s my top offer.”
“That’s your top offer?” I eye him suspiciously.
“The very top. Glass ceiling… or diamond ceiling, I should say.” He chuckles to himself again as he looks down at the pile. “But there’s one exception. This one. It’s no good. I can read the numbers on it. No one is going to buy this off you, especially when they find out it comes from the leader of the Black Flag Mafia.”
Geno never fails to impress me. For a man as old and as extinct as the dinosaurs themselves, he sure knows his business around town. Luckily for me, he was almost always on my side. I reach out my hand and take the diamond between my thumb and pointer. Geno was right - if this carried a mark like a number or inscription, I couldn’t even sell it for pennies. No one would want this. It was damaged goods. A liability.
“All right then, so what should I do with it?”
“Personally? I would put it in a piece of jewelry and keep it. It’s a pretty good diamond. Crystal clear, nice cut, VVS1 or 2 rating. It’s almost a karat and a half. Could make a good piece if you’ve got a girl in mind you want to keep around.”
Damn. Geno knows how to throw a bomb around. I shake thoughts of Alana out of my head. “You keep it, okay? Hold onto it for me until I figure it out?”
“There’s a keeper’s fee, you know. I’m not a bank safety deposit box.”
“I got it. I got it. Take a grand off our deal and let’s do thirty-nine. You’re robbing me blind, you bastard.”
He laughs deeply as he takes away the diamonds and runs to the safe in the back office where he keeps his cash. I listen to him counting out loud while I look around the rest of the shop. He’s got a collection of guitars and gold pieces, small appliances, and sporting goods. In the corner are a load of computers and tablets all turned on so the user can do some testing. I play around with a black tablet, getting on the web for a moment.
Before I know it, I am back at Alana’s site, scrolling through the cartoon pictures of her face that her friend created for her. She’s smiling that beaming smile with her two front teeth sticking out. There’s a scoop in one hand and a six-scoop high ice cream cone in another. Even imaginary, this is the Alana I remember.
I promise myself I won’t read whatever she wrote last night. It feels like an invasion of her privacy to do that. When I break up with someone, I cut them off completely. Even just visiting her site is a
lmost like going to her house and spying on her phone records. But, of course, I can’t drag myself away once I see the title, Dear Bad Boy.
Dear Bad Boy,
How are you feeling? Are you okay? It’s been five hours since you said it was over -- since you broke my heart into a million crumbled pieces. I know, deep down, that it wasn’t you. I heard you when you said that there were other, redheaded factors behind this. And after my site was hacked last night, I don’t blame you for being upset. You didn’t ask for your info to be out there for the world to see. I should have been more vigilant. I am partially to blame here.
But what I did want you to know is that I do still love you. I can’t just quit that overnight. The scars you made on my heart, both good and bad, are there forever and cannot be repaired. I wouldn’t want them to be either. In our short time together, you taught me how to be a fighter and how to love unconditionally and open heartedly. You have given me more than just an adventure of a lifetime. For that, I will forever owe you a piece of this battered and beaten heart.
So I’ll end it here so I can go and regroup. I’m going to need some self-care and some time to absorb what has happened. Until then, please, for me, be safe. And if not for me, do it for your future. You have so much potential bundled up inside of you. Never be afraid to do what is best for you. You deserve it.
Love always,
GLIC
Geno taps me on the shoulder and places an envelope by my side. I don’t even bother to count it. I stuff it in my back pocket and head out towards the sun.
Before I can get on the bike, I pace the parking lot for a few long seconds. My boots drag on the blistering pavement as I try to focus on the next steps. It’s only the buzz of my phone that stops me in my place. Eagerly, I pull it out as quickly as I can, not looking down at the number flashing in green and white.
“Hello?” I say quickly, breathlessly, as my mind wills it to be her.
A sweet, deep voice replies back, “Well, hello there stranger? Did you miss me?”
My stomach turns flat. “What the fuck do you want, Amy?”
“Well, I was going to call to see if you got my messages, but based on what I’ve heard… and read, you’ve managed to get them pretty loud and clear.” There’s a pause as if she is half expecting me to jump through the phone’s receiver and grab her by the neck. At least I still had that over her. No matter what she could do to me, I was still Liam Murphy.
She continues, “Now that you’ve had your little fun and games with her, I was wondering when you would like to make some time for me?”
“If this is what this is all about, you can go fuck yourself, Amy. I am never taking you back. You were a manipulative wench then, and you’re a manipulative bitch now.”
“Oh please, Liam. I wouldn’t dare dream of getting back with you. You lost that chance at the hospital. Now, what I want is complete and total revenge. I want to watch you go down in flames. Everything you’ve worked for is just going to blow up one at a time, and all you’re going to be able to do is watch.”
I don’t know what is keeping me on the line, but her cryptic tone felt like an important warning sign I had to decipher. “Then what do you want with me? You said you wanted to spend time with me.”
“Very soon, you’ll need to find me. Very soon. But you know me… I’m flexible. So how about we do tonight? Sound good?”
“Tonight? For what? What the fuck do you have planned?” I shout her name over and over again into the phone as she laughs in the background. Through my screams, I can hear more people with her, none familiar.
“Oh! Liam! Don’t worry about that. I’ll let you know when it is time. Right now, I’ve got… well… some sweet business to get to.” Alana! Fuck!
“Don’t you dare touch her! We did everything you told us to do. We broke up. She’s out of my life. Now leave her the hell alone!” I growl wildly into the phone.
“Oh, Liam… Liam… Liam… haven’t you learned anything by now? You don’t tell me what to do, and you sure as hell don’t make deals with the devil when there’s no handshake.”
“Amy… you know I won’t stop if you hurt her. I will come at you with everything that I have. I will hunt you down and everyone that helps you until you are no more.”
“Oh, we’ll see about that, but for right now, I’ve got some unpleasant business to attend to. I’ll see you soon, darling. Ta-Ta!” She laughs one more time as I listen to the men behind her shout something. I press the receiver even closer to my ear, struggling for clues or hints about what is going on. Clear as can be, there’s a scream -- Alana’s!
My hands turn to the gears on my bike, causing it to lurch forward as I pull off towards the university’s exit. I race towards the unknown with only a hint of what Amy is capable of when she puts her mind towards revenge.
CHAPTER 23
Just one more sip of vodka… what harm could it do? It’s not like I’m driving anywhere today. I’ve basically locked myself in this truck with just my laptop, several bottles of the strongest booze I could afford, and a whole lot of ice cream. Gotta give myself credit -- retreating to a fully stocked ice cream truck to recover from a bad breakup may be the best idea I’ve ever had.
Daytime drinking really isn’t my thing. But does it count when you’ve been drinking for the last twelve hours straight? I mean, I did try to sleep for a bit there, but when all of my dreams were just images of Liam and me making love, I gave up on that. Who knows when I’ll be able to sleep next, so I might as well just drink my way into calm and comforting oblivion.
Jana doesn’t exactly see it like that. She’s been calling me nonstop since I texted her about it. Even now, I can hear my phone vibrating against the metal freezer, but I’m going to ignore it and just sink back this shot nice and easy. There’s nothing Jana can tell me at this point that could make me answer her phone calls, anyway. I’ve got to deal with this one on my own and in my own way. That’s how this works.
A sudden knock on the side of the truck surprises me so much that I almost fall out of my chair. My laptop falls to my feet along with the shot glass I was holding. I use my remote to lower the music blasting from my speaker. A woman’s deep, mournful voice fades into the background as I scream, “LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE, JANA! YOU KNOW I’M NOT GOING TO OPEN IT.”
There’s a pause as I go to turn the music back up, but before I can press the volume, I hear a man grumble. “Alana… it’s me. Open up so we can talk.” Liam? Is that his voice? What the holy hell is this? He made it clear that he had made his choice. Now he wants to come back? How the fuck did he even find me here?
I shake the cobwebs from my head and make my way to the back, not even thinking to open the window and check out the scene first. I just stretch out my arms to steady myself as the drinks catch up to my wobbling legs. “I’m coming… I’m coming…” I cry out, holding on to one of the shelving units. Outside, the voices seem to multiply and morph. I blame it on day drinking.
But when I pull open the doors, all I can do is scream as I fall backward again. My feet pick me up as I grab at anything and everything I can, throwing them at the two men and woman charging at me with their arms and their snickering smiles. I make it up to the driver’s seat, but there’s nothing I can do. There’s an arm on my leg and another on my shoulder as they both pull me over and keep me down at the same time.
With me constrained, a ribbon of gold hair falls towards my face, brushing up against my nose. I cry out, “Amy! What the…”
“Oh, I should have known you’d be a skinny little thing. Liam could never resist a little chicken-legged girl like you. And you couldn’t stay away from him either, could you?” She hovers over me with her arms crossed over her chest. “I warned you, Alana. You forced me to do this when you wouldn’t just stay the fuck away from my man.”
“We broke up! Liam broke up with me last night. I haven’t heard from him or talked to him all day. It’s true!” I desperately shout back as she stares at me blankly. T
he men surrounding her twist my shoulders down, so I hit my head hard against the tiled floor.
“It was a little too late. And plus, if I hadn’t made my way up the line in Steel Saints, I know you wouldn’t have given him up so easily. A guy like Liam is one you keep. And I plan on holding onto him as long as possible.”
Rage builds deep within me; coupled with the copious amounts of alcohol still coursing through my blood. I let myself shout back, “You think he’s going to be fucking okay with this, Amy? You think he’s ever going to love the person who kidnapped his last girlfriend, who bombed his gym? Are you insane?”
She squats slowly in her tight black dress, the fabric moving up her thick, pale legs. Lowering her voice to a snake-like whisper, she presses two lips close to my ear, “If you think I’m crazy now, you wacky little cunt, just wait until you see what I have in store for you back at the clubhouse. Oh, and don’t you think I forgot to do my research…”
Amy stands back up and looks at one of the guys -- the guy from the parking lot of Liam’s restaurant -- and orders him, “Go to St. Luke’s. Room 381. Her father is there. He’s too weak to fight back, so you shouldn’t have any problems. But I want you to go armed just in case he puts up a fight. We may need him if Liam and this little lovebird don’t cooperate with my orders.”
