Bears of Burden: HUTCH

by Candace Ayers

  “Well, nothing’s wrong with him,” she says bitterly, “and that’s the problem. My name is Nina Childs. I started dating Aaron right after you left, and well… things have gotten…” she turned her head to hide the tears starting to fill her eyes, but I saw them. I had been exactly where this woman was and I could read her like a book.

  “They’ve gotten bad,” I finish quietly.

  “Yes. To put it mildly.”

  “Did he hit you?”

  Nina looks down at her hands. “Yes. But the problem is, no one believes me because I didn’t report it right away. My lawyer thought we’d have a better case if I was able to find other women to testify as a character witnesses. I’ve tracked down a couple women but neither are willing. I can’t say I blame them, really. They’re both afraid to open a can of worms that might bring Aaron back into their lives. You’re my last hope, but I also figured you’d be the perfect person. I know how much he put you through.”

  “You do?”

  “Well, sure. I think a lot of people have put two and two together and figured out the truth. I had my suspicions, but it wasn’t until Aaron admitted it all to me one night when he was drunk.” She shakes her head, and looks at me sadly. “I knew he was an asshole, but I still can’t believe he made you believe your husband cheated on you.”

  I frown. “Made me believe… What are you talking about? My husband did cheat on me.”

  Nina’s eyes widen. “You don’t know?” Her fingers fly to cover her open mouth. “Oh goodness, I thought you’d realized it by now. I knew from the tabloids that you and your husband were estranged but I thought maybe you split up over something else. I didn’t realize you didn’t know the truth.”

  “Truth?” My stomach is doing somersaults. A burning sensation starts in my chest and radiates to my extremities as scorching anger pulses through me. I can feel my cheeks reddening with the coming outrage and for once, it seems to be directed at the right person.

  “That girl, the blonde, was an old friend of Aarons,” Nina confesses. She must see the fire in my eyes, because she gradually scoots farther away from me. “She’s a porn star now. Aaron paid her to drug Lang at the publicity shoot that morning, then take him home and wait in bed with him until you came home to find them. I don’t know what he hoped to gain from the whole thing. Maybe he thought you’d come running back to him. Maybe he just wanted revenge for the fact that you left him.”

  “So that whole thing was just a scam? It was all set up by Aaron?”

  “Yeah.” Nina is chewing her bottom lip. “I’m so sorry. I really am.”

  I stride to the door and snatch my coat off the hook. “Sorry to rush you out of here,” I say, thrusting an arm through the sleeve and crouching to lace up my boots, “but I really need to find my husband.”

  “Sure, I understand.” Nina stands and eyes me apologetically. “I just need to know - will you testify?”

  I smirk and narrow my eyes at her. “I’ll testify,” I assure her. “You’re damn right I’ll testify.”

  Chapter 9 JETT

  “Would someone please get the fucking door?” I bellow. I’m busy in the kitchen making burgers for my ungrateful brothers, and the doorbell is driving me out of my mind.

  “Cade, get off your ass and do something.”

  Cade sighs. “Fine, yeah.” He tosses his phone down and saunters out of the kitchen. I hear the door open, followed quickly by Cade’s voice saying, “Aw, shit.”

  “What’s wrong?” I call, but I’m met with silence.

  For Christ’s sake, that kid can’t do fucking anything right. Even answering the door is some fucking chore for him.

  I know I’m being too harsh on Cade, but I can’t seem to control myself anymore. I’ve been in a shitty mood for two months straight. Ever since I woke up to Sexual Harassment Barbie.

  Ever since Claire left.

  I’d spent most of my time that wasn’t devoted to training and work sitting in my house and brooding. At first, I tried to drink until I felt numb, but I could never get numb enough. I knew better than to frequent clubs, or return to my previous lifestyle, and even if I didn’t, Larry was there to constantly remind me.

  I’m aware that I’m in a depressive slump, but I’ve been trying desperately to pull myself out of it. I arranged for my brothers to start coming around once a week for dinner, and even Larry and his kids came by a couple times to break bread.

  Not my best idea ever, maybe. They kind of hurt more than they help sometimes. After all, they really liked Claire, everyone did, and even though they don’t say it aloud, no one believes that I woke up naked in bed with a stranger. Hell, if I didn’t know better, I wouldn’t believe myself either.

  I flip the final burger patty onto a plate with the rest. Cade hasn’t returned, and I can’t hear a peep from the front foyer. Cade damn well better not be talking to a reporter. At first they were everywhere, and I had to have security monitor the front gate. After a few weeks, when nothing much happened (as in no naked chicks- no chicks at all actually), the media dwindled, and I cut back on security. I know the paparazzi, though and there are those who are nothing if not unethical. They’ll climb fences, twist words, use telephoto lenses.

  I growl in frustration, and toss of my apron, the apron I bought to make Clair giggle that says “Rub My Meat” on the front. I storm to the foyer.

  “Fuck’s sake, Cade, what’s wrong?” The moment I appear, Cade turns and looks at me with a sheepish grin, then ducks away into the living room, and I find myself face to face with my wife.

  “Claire,” I whisper. She smiles coyly and a tingle rushes through my entire body. My limbs suddenly feel like jello.

  “Hi, Jett.”

  She looks thin, like she’s lost some weight, and there are dark circles under her eyes, but she’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. There’s so much I want to say to her right now. I want to tell her that I’ve missed her. Hell, I want to tell her that her leaving feels as though my hearts been hacked out of my chest with a chainsaw. I want to say that I’m sorry. I’m sorry that even though nothing happened that night with Bimbo Barbie, I’m sorry for ever being the kind of man that would make her suspect something might have. I’m sorry for everything I’ve done to hurt her and everything I’ll ever do in the future, and that if only she’ll let me, I’ll promise to spend every second of my life devoted to her and never, ever give her a reason to doubt me ever again.

  “It’s… been a while,” I say dumbly.

  “It has,” she agrees. “One might say it’s been too long.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, one could say that.”

  She takes a step towards me, pushing her hair behind her ear. I want to touch her, to hold her, but I’m afraid to do anything to scare her off or make her leave. A pink tinge creeps up her cheeks.

  “One might also say that your wife was unfair to you,” she states, “and that perhaps your wife should have given you the benefit of the doubt and believed in you, or at least heard you out.”

  “Do you think one would be right about that?” I ask, my heart is racing in my chest. Is she saying what I think she’s saying?

  “Yes. One would definitely be correct about that,” she replies. Her eyes fill with tears. “Especially after your wife found out that her ex-boyfriend set up the whole thing just to punish her for leaving him.”

  “Wow.” I shake my head. I can’t stop the huge shit-eating grin from spreading over my face. “One could say that my wife’s ex-boyfriend is a real shitstain.”

  “Yeah.” Claire is grinning slightly now, too. “Your wife should have known better, she was a real bitch to you.”

  “Hey, don’t talk about my wife that way,” I scold her softly.

  Claire smiles gently, and a lone tear trails down her cheek. “I miss you, Jett.”

  I wipe her tear away with my thumb, “I miss you too. So, so much, Claire.”

  “I know. I got the cards.”

  We both laugh.

 
“Think you can forgive me?” she asks, twirling a strand of hair around her finger.

  I pull her towards me and wrap my arms around her. We settle against each other, content in the feeling of our bodies side by side once again. I kiss her forehead and sigh happily.

  “There’s nothing to forgive, beautiful. I just want my wife back” I tilt her chin up and press my lips to hers.

  How could I hold a grudge against the woman I live and breathe for?

  THE END

  THE VAMPIRE’S MUSE

  STORY DESCRIPTION

  April Hanley is a loner and newly appointed curator at an art gallery. When she finds and procures a rare Dobronravov masterpiece, strange things start to occur.

  First, she experiences bizarre dreams of a mysterious stranger that plague her and leave her body writhing in wanton desire.

  Very soon after, reality becomes intermingled with her dreams, and her life takes a crazy and dangerous turn. She finds her life threatened by an unstable leather-clad dominatrix. She goes head to head with a couple of rival motorcycle gangs. And, she comes face to face with the handsome stranger from her dreams who throws her on the back of his decked-out, futuristic Harley.

  But, for April, the most jaw-dropping revelation is when she’s told her handsome stranger has been deeply in love with her.

  For centuries.

  Chapter 1

  The damn Jeep was making a rumbling sound, or a rattling sound. It was hard to tell. Whichever it was, it all of a sudden escalated to an almighty bang that shook the whole thing like an earthquake. I had to fight with the wheel to keep it in my hands. The Jeep swerved to the left, but I brought it back to the right. It swerved to the right, but I brought it back to the left. Then, when black smoke started filling the interior, I wrestled it off to the side of the road.

  When I got out, more smoke was wafting slowly from the tailpipe. A quick stoop down in my four hundred dollar heels revealed a thick, dark liquid puddling under the engine. I blew out a long slow breath. Well, I’d had Carleton, my Jeep, since I’d left for college over ten years ago, but it looked like it might be time to say goodbye to the old guy.

  Damn. Things had been going so well today, too. I’d had another great day at the gallery which led to Owen, the owner, asking me to dinner. ‘Purely professional,’ he’d said. Fortunately, he wasn’t lying.

  “April,” Owen’s voice had taken on a serious tone near dessert, more so than he’d had throughout the main course. I glanced nervously around the restaurant. It was a classy place in the wealthier part of town where Owen lived. There was low lighting, soft piano music, and the waitresses were all gorgeous and dressed in black cocktail dresses. Not what you’d find at your average TGI Fridays which was my typical ‘going somewhere nice for dinner’ destination. The thing that had been worrying me since we’d arrived was the more than one distinguished male patron hiding in a darkened booth with a significantly younger and considerably more attractive female companion. It certainly appeared to be a wining and dining spot for older men to bring younger female employees when their main goal was to see them naked. Please, don’t let that be it. I prayed. I loved my job, and would hate to lose it. I’d also hate to waste the tastiest wine I’ve ever had by tossing it in Owen’s face as I told him where he and his sexual advances could go.

  I took a constitutional sip of wine.

  “April,” Owen said again, “I know you’ve only been with us…?”

  “Just under a year,” I helped him out. The wrinkles that were creasing his forehead under his thinning salt-and-pepper hairline as he struggled to remember, vanished in gratitude.

  “As you say. And I notice that, although you’re friendly with the staff at our gallery, you don’t seem to have forged any close friendships.”

  Not that it was any of his business.

  “If it’s important to my career, Owen, I’ll get some, I promise,” I joked. The truth was, the guys at work were all pretty much gay and catty and the girls were all bitchy and catty. I was in favor of creating a friendly work environment but I really never felt the need to invest myself too deeply. Without meaning to sound superior, the office games and gossip just felt just too shallow and childish to me. Besides, I couldn’t see myself becoming besties with someone whose deepest intellectual conversation was centered around The Real Housewives of New Jersey.

  “Quite the opposite, in fact,” Owen smiled again. “It’s precisely because of your uniqueness that I think you’d be the best choice for curator when I retire next month.” I almost choked on my wine. “Well, that, and your superb work in securing the long lost Dobronravov painting last week.”

  So, a fantastic day that was now ending with a little hiccup, but then again, it was extremely likely that a new car was now warranted. I needed to figure out where I was so that I could call for help. I could see the lights of the freeway but I couldn’t hear the noise, meaning I was at least a half-mile away. Looking around, there was a dark, empty-looking factory across the street, a motel with a faulty green neon sign in the opposite direction from the freeway and about the same distance, and a patch of yellow scrub grass behind a tall, chain link fence beside me.

  Stranded in the semi darkness under a dim orange streetlight was more than a little creepy. My heart rate was elevated. It was past ten at night and I was breathing hot, fetid air in one of the worst parts of San Antonio’s South Side. Not to mention I was dressed in my favorite short, black mini-dress that hugged my butt and was oh-so-good at lifting my bust line up just where I liked it to be. Oh, yeah, and my coveted four hundred dollar heels.

  Alright, well, I guess I’d have to describe my surroundings to AAA since there weren’t any road signs anywhere. I grabbed my cell out of my small clutch purse, and Fuuuck! Dead. At that moment, I saw a light that looked like it might be heading this way.

  Please be a cop. Please be a cop.

  I repeated like a mantra. But, my hope disappeared as the roar of a motorcycle engine grew louder and nearer. I thought about getting back in the Jeep, but before I could reach it, the motorcycle engine crescendoed to a deafening level and then abruptly ceased.

  “Having some trouble, little lady?” The man’s voice was high-pitched and mocking. It was accompanied by a squawking, earsplitting woman’s cackle. My mom always taught me never to judge a movie by the DVD cover, I think, but the sound made my nerves jangle and I was trembling slightly as I turned around.

  The man striding towards me was of average height and build, but his expression gave him the honor of having the evilest face I’d ever seen in my life. It contorted his forked beard, and scars rippled up extending over his battered and bald head.

  Behind him, sitting on a big black chopper, was a scrawny girl of maybe twenty-five with straggly, greasy blonde hair falling limply around a face that might have been pretty once. Drugs? Whatever it was, something had ravaged her looks, and she held the same sinister visage as her partner. Her self-confidence appeared to be unfazed though. Her stocking tops showed clearly from under her short leather miniskirt, and her breasts were crammed into a tiny bikini top and barely hidden by her patched leather vest.

  “It… it just banged and shut down,” I managed to say sounding, at least I thought, mostly calm. As he continued towards me, his eyes ran slowly up and down my body. I saw his vest was similar to the girl’s. The left breast bore the name ‘Rectum’. Before I had time to process his lovely moniker, he walked right past me.

  “Sounds just like Darla over there,” he grinned, earning a middle finger from his girlfriend. “Well, let’s just see what we can do, shall we?”

  He opened the Jeep door, popped the hood, and then walked around front to shove his head under it. A small sense of relief flooded me. Maybe mom was right about those DVD covers. I read the name ‘Angel Dogs’ from the gang patch on the back of Rectum’s vest, and I thought maybe he was my unlikely savior.

  “You see here?” he called, beckoning me over, his head still in the bowels of my mo
tor. I stepped cautiously towards him, still trying to save my heels. Suddenly, a vice-like grip clasped my left arm at the same time as thin, sharp fingers coiled around my throat. Before I could release a sound, Darla’s piercing screech split the night and Rectum’s eerie, sneering grimace emerged from under my hood.

  “Now here,” Rectum brought his face so close to mine I could almost taste his fetid breath, “is where you’re completely fucked.”

  Chapter 2

  My legs turned to Jell-O. If Darla didn’t have such a firm grip on me, I’d have been on the ground. I tried to scream, but her iron-grip tightened, choking off any sound from escaping.

  “Don’t worry, baby,” Darla hissed in my ear, “you’ll get your chance to scream. We’ll make you scream.” She let out another high-pitched cackle and then ran her wet tongue run down my cheek.

  “I love a lady with some curves,” offered Rectum as his gaze scanned my body. He reached his dirt smudged hand forward and, with seemingly no effort, ripped the front of my dress clean open, right down the middle, exposing my bra-covered breasts.

  “Yeah, she’s hot,” gloated Darla. “Fuck her blue, Recky-baby, then it’s my turn.”

  I tried to fight. I struggled, trying to cover myself up, but Darla was unbelievably strong. There was nothing I could do but pray that I would come out of this relatively unscathed. Not much hope of that though.

  Rectum’s filthy fingers trailed down my stomach. He was going to tear the rest of my dress away, and my underwear too, no doubt. He was practically drooling from his disgusting pie hole when he abruptly froze. His head turned sharply to gaze down the road, back the way they had come. That’s when I heard it too. The low rumble of another motorcycle.

  Tears welled at the back of my eyes. More Angel Dogs coming to join the party? So, now I was to be passed around like a rag doll? I wouldn’t be able to withstand this.