by Naomi West
I had always treated sex like a sport, a pastime, or a hobby. It was something fun to do with whoever happened to be around. But, with Cassidy, it was so much more, and I found myself oddly horrified by the idea of ever doing it with anyone else. I had thought it last night, and I was sure she understood that I could never belong to any woman. And, yet, in an odd way, I did. Cassidy had a hold on me, in that I could not see past her to other women. They no longer existed. There was only her.
All of that was going to make today especially hard, because this was the last day I would see Cassidy, the last day we would spend together. There was no other way. On the one hand, we had had a good—if brief—run. On the other, we had completely screwed things up from top to bottom. But, whichever perspective you took, the only way forward now was for her to go back home to be with her father. I was resolute that I was not going to ruin her life. It was bad enough that I had dragged it down to this point. Things could not go on like this, and I knew what I had to do next.
Slipping out of bed as quietly as I could, so as not to wake Cassidy, I pulled my clothes on and headed for the door. Thinking again, I went back, located Cassidy's phone in her pants' pocket, and took it with me.
"You got a phone?" I asked the woman at reception, who was idly leafing through a magazine.
She looked up at me as if I must be the lowest form of life on earth for not having a cell phone, but, of course, I wasn't about to use a cell phone that had been taken off me by police while I was in custody. I doubted that the local sheriff's department had bugging facilities, but who the hell knew these days? There were kids in their bedrooms who could take all the money out of your bank account without getting out of bed. I wasn't going to risk it.
"There." The woman said, pointing at a pay phone that might have last been used during the Nixon administration.
"Thanks." I took out Cassidy's phone and scrolled through the numbers looking for 'Dad'.
"You know," drawled the woman at the desk. "For future reference, that thing in your hands can also be used as a phone."
"Battery's low," I lied.
The woman shrugged. Working in this particular motel, she knew damn well I was lying, but she also knew better than to pry too deeply into the lives of her clients. Running a place like this, you quickly learned to ask no questions, to see nothing, and to never remember a face.
The phone rang a couple of times before a familiar voice answered.
"Dupont."
"Hi, Sheriff. It's Archer Cyprian."
I would have paid good money to see the sheriff's face at that point, but all I got was a very long silence before he spoke again.
"Is my daughter all right?"
Once again, I found myself having to grudgingly respect Ben Dupont. If the first words out of his mouth had been anything else, then the whole purpose of this conversation might have changed, but he clearly cared about Cassidy, and that meant I had to go ahead with what I had been planning.
"She's fine."
"I want to speak to her."
"She's sleeping. And I don't want her to know that I'm making this call."
There was another pause, as Dupont pondered what I had said. "What is this call?"
He was a smart man. "This is me reaching out to make a deal."
"You broke the last deal we made."
"Now, we both know that you made that deal under false pretenses," I said.
"So, you decided to revenge yourself on me by going after my daughter?" Anger was creeping into his tone.
"That's not how it is with Cassidy and me, and I think you know that," I said, shutting him down, not giving way. Dupont respected strength, and I wasn't about to give an inch. "I was trying to do what I thought was best for her, and I'm willing to admit that it didn't go as planned. But I think that if you hadn't chased me last night, then you'd have been genuinely pleased with the outcome."
"You were speeding!"
"I'm not blaming you," I hastened to add. "I'm just saying, it's a shame things went the way they did. But they did, so let's try to fix them now."
I imagined I could hear Dupont grinding his teeth. For the second time this week he was forced to make a deal with a man he despised. Tough times for Sheriff Ben Dupont.
"What do you want?"
"Nothing, Sheriff."
"Nothing?" His incredulity was plain to hear.
"Nothing for myself, that is," I amended. "I know you can't just let me get off scot-free. I'm not asking for immunity or for you to give up the chase. Come get me, if you can. All I want is a guarantee that Cassidy won't suffer for what she did in choosing me over you."
"Suffer?" Dupont sounded as if he wanted to reach out of the phone and beat my head against the wall. "What in the hell do you think I am?! You actually think I'd harm her?!"
"No," I said. "But I wanted to be sure. And, also, there's more than one way in which a father can make his daughter suffer. Sometimes without even knowing he's doing it. She's not the girl you think she is, Sheriff. She's fragile and vulnerable. Cut her some slack, let her be herself, and stop looking at her and seeing her mother. They're not the same."
I could only imagine how Ben Dupont felt getting a parenting lecture from a member of Battle Pride. But I think he knew that there was some truth in what I was saying.
"I don't know what assurances you want from me, Mr. Cyprian," he said. "But I swear to you on the Bible, on my daughters’ lives, on everything I hold sacred, that I won't do anything to harm Cassidy. And I'll try to be a more understanding father to her in the future. I'll take care of her."
There would be arguments and recriminations of course, because that's what families did. And daughters needed to know when they've overstepped the mark, even twenty-three-year-old daughters who really ought to have known better. But I was happy enough with Dupont's word.
"You know the Outland Motel?"
"You took my daughter to that place?!"
He might be ready to forgive Cassidy, but Ben Dupont wasn't going to be forgiving me anytime soon. "It's a safe place."
"Safe for who?!"
"It's not about who it's safe for, Sheriff Dupont," I said. "It's about who it's safe from."
Dupont considered this. "Okay. That's where she is."
"That's where she'll be. Room 21."
"And do you expect me to give you time to clear out?"
"I could ask you for it, but I don't think I'd get it."
"You'd be right," replied Dupont grimly.
"I'll be gone by the time you get here."
There was another pause before Dupont spoke again. "I don't want there to be some misunderstanding between us, Mr. Cyrpian. You do know that I'm still coming for you."
"I know," I said. "Like I told you, I'm not part of the deal."
"I'm going to nail you."
"No. You're never going to see me again."
Another pause. "Under the circumstances, I can see that as a win."
He hung up.
Assuming Dupont got straight into his car and drove out here—and I couldn't imagine him waiting—I had about an hour to clear out. Maybe less, since he'd be using the siren all the way and stopping for nothing. There was a vending machine in reception, and I went to get snacks from it. I could eat properly when I had put some serious miles between myself and Ben Dupont. And Cassidy too, of course. She would hate me for what I had done, but deep down she would realize that it was the way things had to be. I hoped.
But as I was getting the snacks from the machine, I glanced across to the TV, which the woman behind reception was now watching, the magazine apparently having lost its appeal. The news was on, and I recognized Dan's Steak House, one of the places that got protection from Battle Pride. The place had burned to the ground. That was no great surprise. The way Dan treated Health and Safety regulations, it was a wonder that it didn't happen more often. But then the picture changed to Shades, a club we protected, then Bar None, then Jay Jones' Place. All of them were protected by Battle
Pride, and all had been attacked in the last twelve hours.
"Turn the sound up," I said, pointing at the TV.
The woman said nothing, but did as I asked, once again deciding not to ask questions about my interest in these events.
As I listened, a horrible story outlined itself. The media might not have all the pieces yet, they just knew the events, but I could fill in the blanks. My being in jail had clearly given the local Mafia some ideas. They had been watching, they had noted my distraction, and they had moved. They were not as much of presence way out here, as they were really more of a big city organization, but if there was money to be made, then they moved in. Battle Pride had kept them down for years, making sure that whatever profit they might make was never worth the blood it would cost them to make it. Now, Battle Pride was weakened by my absence. However strong my boys were, they needed a leader. The Mafia had known this, had seen an opening, and they had pounced.
Of course, my first instinct was to get myself back to town as soon as possible. I would end up in jail again, for sure, as soon as Dupont knew I was back. But by then I could put the Mafia back in their box with such extreme force that they wouldn't trouble the town again for a long time. But then a more terrible thought struck me. They had to know that my absence was temporary. They had to know that I would be heading back in a fighting mood, so they would want to make my absence permanent. If they had been watching me, then they might well know where I was now, and if they couldn't kill me, they would be looking for ways to control me. Ways like Cassidy.
I was heading back towards the phone to tell Ben Dupont the latest development when I realized that was futile. He would already be on his way. But there was no way that Cassidy could stay here. With or without me, she was in danger, so with me was better. Then, at least, I could protect her. I could only imagine how angry Dupont would be when he arrived to find his daughter gone. He would assume that I had lied to him again and that I had just phoned to screw with him. He was going to tear me apart if he ever found me.
For a fleeting moment, as I was hurrying back to room 21, I wondered about just waiting here for Dupont and letting him take me. But, with the Mafia out there, that didn't seem a good option. I had to keep moving, and I had to keep Cassidy moving. I wasn't convinced she would be safe at home now.
I wasn't proud of it, but, for an instant, I felt a pang of delight at these events. I had been handed a legitimate excuse to keep Cassidy with me. I could honestly say that I was doing what was best for her, and not losing her was the collateral result. Thank God for the Mafia.
I shook the thought clear from my head as soon as it entered, but it lingered there a while, so I was almost grinning when I went in to shake Cassidy awake.
Chapter Fifteen
Cassidy
No matter how long I slept, I always felt groggier if I slept during the day. It was really weird waking up in the afternoon, and my body clock was all over the place, but it was weirder still being woken by Archer, clearly in a rush.
"Get dressed. We have to go."
He didn't tell me why until we were in the car, when he said that it was checkout time for the motel, and he didn't have the money to pay for another day. I didn't believe that one bit. There was something he wasn't telling me, and if his edgy demeanor wasn't enough to make me think that, then it was reinforced by the fact that he had been there to wake me in the first place.
I had been prepared to wake alone. In fact, I had been expecting it. Not that I wanted to find Archer gone. It was just that I didn't think there was anything I could do to stop him. He had argued that there was no longer any practical reason for us to stay together, and I had had no real answer to that. He was right that he was in greater danger while I was around, and that I was in greater danger staying with the leader of Battle Pride. I didn't care about my being in danger, but I cared about him, and I guessed the reverse was true for him. So, I was pretty confident that I would wake up to find that he had taken off by himself, avoiding further argument. It was a pleasant surprise, therefore, to be woken by him, have him usher me into the car, and back out onto the road. But it was a surprise that I couldn't figure out.
On the face of it, the only reason for us to stick together seemed to be because we wanted to— which I certainly did, however selfish it might be. Was it too much to hope that, during the night, he had come around to my point of view? Had the early morning sex somehow made him realize how much he really loved me, to the extent that he couldn't bear to let me go?
It would be nice to think that, but even at my most optimistic, I couldn't really convince myself that it might actually be true.
So, something had happened while I slept. Something that Archer had decided to keep from me. Something that meant we had to stay together, for now, at least. Whatever it was, I was pretty happy about it, and so decided not to question it.
We stopped for gas, and I went into the little gas station shop and bought food that we could eat on the road.
"Could we find a diner?" I asked.
"Let's keep moving," Archer replied. He said it with forced casualness, but I read more into it.
We took turns driving, so the other could eat. I began to feel as if we were Bonnie and Clyde, on the run from the law. Which, in a way, we were. But, in another way, we were very much not. We were a stunningly innocent Bonnie and Clyde, an unlucky pair who had wound up in this situation through bad decisions and bad luck, comforted by each other's presence. Even as I thought it, I knew how naive that sounded. I really was a child, living a romantic bad-girl fantasy, when the reality was anything but.
"Keep an eye out for anywhere we can spend the night," Archer said.
Evening was closing around us fast and, though we had slept much of the day, I was still feeling pretty tired.
"Why do you do what you do?" I asked, broaching a subject that, until now, I had not dared to raise.
Archer frowned. "What do you mean?"
"You're smart, and you're a decent person. You could be anything you wanted. Why this?"
"You don't like this?" Archer teased me.
"I think we both know how much I like this,’" I said. "But we also both know that I have some problems with getting off on danger and disobedience. Also, while I like this," I roughly indicated Archer, "Over the last day, I've found that what I really like is this." I laid a hand on his heart. "You keep it hidden, and I'd like to see more of it."
"I think that would endanger my position."
"Good. Like I said, you could be anything you wanted."
Archer shook his head. "People like me only end up one way. You can't change who you are. You can pretend to be a bad girl, but it won't make you one. I could pretend to be a good guy, but it won't make me one."
I rolled my eyes. "Do you remember when you told me off for talking like a clichéd 'bad girl'? That cuts both ways, you know."
Archer laughed. "I guess there are worse people than me."
"So why do you do it?" I returned to my original question.
"When I was a kid, this is what there was." Archer kept his eyes on the road as he spoke. "It was this, or stay at home. And home wasn't an option. Home wasn't really a home. I guess kids of any age look for a family, and I found mine kind of late. I knew that what Battle Pride did wasn't legal, but it was a place I was accepted, appreciated, and treated well. Ironically, I felt safe. If anyone tried to hurt me then, suddenly, there was this whole bunch of other guys who had my back. I felt part of something for the first time in my life, and I really didn't care what I had to do to get that."
I nodded. "I can see how that would happen. But now you never have to worry about your parents again. You're your own man. So why stick with it?"
"I guess partly because it's become who I am," Archer admitted. "I wouldn't know who I was, if I wasn't president of Battle Pride. But also because there are people who rely on me. People who I let down if I'm not there." A strange look came over his face, as if he was thinking of something e
lse, something that he, apparently, could not share with me.
"You don't have an obligation to them," I pointed out. "You have a right to live your own life."
But Archer shook his head firmly. "Take someone like Joe. I recruited him to Battle Pride. I saw his potential and brought him in. If I hadn't done that, if I hadn't brought him into an organization with some structure, then I think he'd be in jail by now. Or dead. That's the road he was on; vandalizing buildings, petty theft, picking fights. I can't walk away from kids like that."
