by Rea Winters
She walked past Cas into the bedroom and Cas followed, closing the door behind her. Amie kept her back to her, preoccupied with brushing her hair in the vanity mirror. It wasn’t lost on the ladda that Amie’s gaze avoided her reflection.
“Yeah, the note didn’t say anything about taking a shower at Larry Melvin’s house.”
“I didn’t stop in for a shower. I’m staying here. The apartment hunt is over for now since Larry gave me a pretty good deal, a non-perverted weasel kind of deal. It’s only temporary until Hammer is back up and running and I can start saving up for an actual place of my own.”
“Okay. But what’s wrong with staying with me while you save up? Maybe I didn’t make it clear before, but I am okay with that.”
Amie stayed quiet, thinking of something to say between brush strokes, leaving an observant Caspar to assume the worst.
“Is this because of last night? Should I…should I not have—”
“No.” At last, the reflection of their gazes met, making Amie pause. “I don’t regret a single second with you. Okay? Honest. It’s just…like I said in the note. I don’t want to overstay my welcome. You’ve got a lot going on and, you know, I don’t want to get in the way.”
“Get in the way of what?”
She didn’t answer, but her brushing slowly resumed. Caspar crossed the room and gently removed the brush from her hand. “Look at me.”
Amie hesitated before facing her.
“Get in the way of what?”
Chewing her cheek, Amie’s eyes danced around before settling back on her.
“I saw you with her.”
“Who?”
“The lady, the married one. At the bowling alley.”
Caspar recalled the brief reunion with Natalie, the way the mad woman had clung to her.
“That wasn’t—”
“It’s okay. You don’t owe me an explanation. I mean, yeah it bothered me a little – maybe a lot – which is stupid and embarrassing. But there it is.”
Caspar’s gaze narrowed, her head tilting slightly. Amie walked to the center of the room, keeping her back to Cas’ scrutinizing stare as she gesticulated through an explanation. Cas leaned against the dresser and folded her arms, listening and watching closely.
“I went back to the restroom to keep from stalking the two of you, but I couldn’t stop thinking about your history and everything and I admit, I got jealous. That’s what happens when you like somebody a lot.”
She paused for a breath and looked at Cas for a reaction, but the ladda gave none.
“I even thought about saying something to you that night, but instead, well, I guess I felt it’d be better to make my own feelings known. And you’d think after the night we had, that would be enough, but…I don’t know, the next day, it was still bothering me. Then I thought, what right do I have to even be bothered, you know? I mean, you’ve already told me things with her were complicated and it’s not like I own you just because we had a good time. So instead of possibly getting into it with you about it, I thought I should give you some space and get on with getting my own before I ruin something good before it even starts. I mean, the last thing you need is some clingy girl yapping to you about her insecurities while you’re dealing with much bigger problems.”
She paused for another breath and still Caspar didn’t react.
“Hey.” Amie shuffled up to her, playfully poking at the firm cross of her arms. “It’s not like I’m mad at you or anything. We’ll still see each other, just under more normal circumstances. Unless I’ve been reading our time together wrong.”
She stepped back to the middle of the room, her gaze fallen as she toyed with her fingers as if suddenly nervous and shy. Cas exhaled through her nose, nodding more so to herself.
“You…are the worst liar I’ve ever seen.”
“Hey!” Amie crossed her arms, head tilted up with umbrage. "Sedas don’t lie."
"A few grains of truth doesn’t mean it’s not a lie."
Amie said nothing in retort, but Cas could see the genuine frustration bridling through her as she sighed through her nose and squeezed her arms, looking off to the top right of the room. Caspar crossed the room and held Amie’s shoulders, waiting for the girl to look up at her. When she did, her mask threatened to break, making her turn her head again, but Cas palmed her face to keep her still.
“I should’ve told you sooner what you meant to me. And I’m sorry I didn’t. But that isn’t what this is about. When you came back from the restroom, you were scared, but trying to hide it. That’s not something I can brush off. I thought you’d be ready to talk about it in the morning, but you were already gone. You didn’t answer your phone all day and now you’re shacked up with a known creep and telling me you’d rather stay under his roof than mine because you like me too much. Even I know there’s nothing normal about these circumstances. I’m supposed to believe you’re clingy? Amie, you walked into the woods in the middle of the night because you were bored and it didn’t even occur to you to say word one to me. You’re lying. And you’re still scared, which is the only thing I care about.”
Amie teared up, chewing her tongue. Her hand found Caspar’s wrist and squeezed. A simmering anger swelled in Caspar’s core at the thought of whatever or whoever was really bothering her, but without Amie’s honesty, she had no culprit to unleash it on.
“Tell me what’s going on. Whatever it is, I’ll handle it and you won’t have to hide here while I do it.”
Amie lowered her head and closed her eyes, allowing overdue tears to finally fall. It warmed her heart that Caspar Adami didn’t miss a thing, but she said exactly what Amie had been afraid to hear, especially when she felt the hospital band on her wrist.
“Look, I appreciate you being there for me when I needed it, but I’m not your responsibility. You started testing today, right? So, you have more important things to worry about—”
"I decide what's important to me."
When Amie looked up at the strong woman before her, a flattered smile bloomed below her troubled eyes. "I love that you mean that. But it doesn't change the fact that my problems are not your problems."
"So, you do have a problem?”
Amie sighed. “The truth? Yes. It came out of nowhere, but it’s the only thing I can focus on right now.”
“What is it?”
“Just family stuff, okay? Don’t worry about it. By the end of the week it’ll be no big deal and we should be able to go back to normal. Our normal.”
“You have to let me help you—"
“No, I don’t. This is a problem only I can solve and I don’t want you anywhere near it. Okay? Trust me, it’s for your own good.” Amie pulled away from Cas, wiped her face and opened the door. “You have to leave me alone, just for a while.”
Caspar racked her brain trying to think of what problem could’ve arisen while they were separated for all of ten minutes, mentally kicking herself for dealing with Natalie and Jo instead of staying by Amie’s side. She let her girl down. And worse yet, she couldn’t force Amie to let her make up for it.
“Fine. I’ll go.” Cas stopped short of the door, grazed Amie’s jaw with her thumb, then bent down and laid a kiss on her forehead. “But I won’t be far,” she promised.
On the porch, Larry was on his third cigarette when Caspar stalked out of his house, yanked him by his collar and threw him into the wall, pinning him in place with her forearm pressed under his chin.
"You touch her, you die. Am I clear?”
“Crystal,” he squeaked.
From behind the curtain, Amie watched Caspar stomp off across the street and get in her truck where Roadie waited with his head stuck out the window. Fresh tears gathered in her eyes as another knot tightened around her heart, but she let the curtain fall before they spilled.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Five Days Later
It took Jo Becker two days to heal well enough to move and swallow without wincing. Then another two days went b
y of quiet raging between home, work, and long snorts of her favorite pick-me-up from a little vial of white powder. By then, she finally realized what needed to be done about Caspar Adami. It only took a few hours to track down those mystery goons from the bowling alley, exactly who she needed to turn her epiphany into reality.
She knocked on the door of room 211 at The Melvin Motel with all the confidence of a door-to-door salesman. That must’ve been what she appeared to be to the taller goon who opened the door.
“We don’t want any—”
“Actually,” Becker interrupted, sticking her foot in the door before it closed. “I think you do.”
The goon gave a look to his friend who sat back in a chair at a small square table against the wall. On the friend’s cue, the big guy yanked Becker inside, threw her to the floor and kicked the door closed behind him.
Both men pulled out their guns. The big one aiming right for Becker’s head, while his friend calmly loaded a clip.
“Who sent you and where do you want it?” The friend in the chair asked.
Becker’s shaky eyes never left the gun in her face. “Gentlemen, before we get carried away—”
“I said, who sent you and where do you want it?”
The gun cocking sent Becker’s stomach into her lower intestines, but entitled umbrage strengthened her resolve.
“Where do I want what?”
“The bullet,” the big guy answered.
Becker scoffed. “No one sent me. I overheard you in the alley with that girl, Amie Seda, last week. Remembered your car and tracked you down myself. Now, I would appreciate it if you removed your gun from my face and allowed me to stand. Otherwise, I’ll take my hundred-thousand-dollar proposal elsewhere.”
The men debated with glances and shrugs, never lowering their weapons.
“We’re listening,” the chair dweller offered.
“Caspar Adami.”
“Say again?”
“Caspar Adami! The--the woman you referred to as ‘Spartacus.’ Her name is Caspar Adami.”
“So what?”
“Right now, her little girlfriend is somewhere scrambling for the money to keep you from roughing her up.” Becker slowly reached for a folded envelope in her suit jacket. “This is the fifty-five grand she owes you. Consider it a down payment for reneging on your deal with Seda and starting a new one with me. More buck for your bang is here for the taking if you’re willing to work for it.”
✽ ✽ ✽
In room 210, Jack Kent stared down an unopened bottle of liquor on the nightstand. Holding a fresh icepack to his bruised face, he began to slowly pace the room and called his wife. She was already at the airport, on her way back to their son.
“I know, honey. I won’t make that mistake again. I don’t know, I don’t know…I just…of course, the kid can hate me, I just wish she didn’t hate herself. That’s my fault and…well, I thought some kind of connection to Aaron could, I don’t know…” He sighed. “I thought it could undo even a little bit of the shame that comes with it…Yeah, yeah no, I know, you’re right, that’s not my place. I can’t—no matter what I do, it’s not something I can make better. I understand that, it just…I thought it couldn’t hurt to try. I was wrong, very wrong…Oh I know. Don’t worry, I won’t go anywhere near her again…Yeah, I know. The tests are almost over. I’m just staying an extra night to get my head on straight. Yeah, I’ll be right behind you…yeah. Give Aarhead a kiss for me. Love you, too.”
Jack put the phone down and put his head against the wall.
“Caspar Adami!” a strange voice echoed from behind the wall. At first Jack thought he imagined it until the same voice spoke again, accompanied by two others. Their muffled words were coming from the next room. He turned his head and pressed his ear against the wallpaper.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“Caspar? Caspar?”
“Hm?”
“I asked about your history with substances…”
Caspar removed her fist from her mouth and slid her hands down her jeans, straightening her posture. The last place she wanted to be was the potpourri-laced office of the hospital shrink. But sitting across from her on a big red couch was as required as the poking and prodding of her body if she was going to keep her word to Aaron Jacobsen.
“Sorry. Um, no. I don’t smoke or do any kind of drugs. Never have. When I feel stressed, I exercise or I work with my hands. Craft something.”
“What about alcohol? You must have a beer once in a while.”
“Once a year, I have several. On the anniversary of my mom’s death.”
The doctor nodded, followed by some scribbling in the file on her lap.
“About your mother—”
“What about her?”
Sensing the defensiveness, the doctor paused and rerouted her next line of questioning. “Caspar, donating a kidney doesn’t just take a toll on the body, it can weigh heavy on the mind, as well. The point of our meeting today is to educate you on all aspects of living donation, but it is also an opportunity for you to express yourself freely, to let out any concerns you have about the process without pressure or fear or judgment.”
“I don’t feel pressured, I’m not afraid, and I’m learning not to care what others think.”
“Okay. That’s good. It’s just that the connection between you and Aaron Jacobsen is not lost on anyone involved in this process. If you became distressed for any reason due to that connection, no one would blame you for opting out.”
“I would.”
“But you don’t know Aaron personally; you’ve never met or spoken on the phone, exchanged letters. Isn’t that correct?”
“Yes.”
“So, what prompted you to agree to the evaluation? Did his mother make certain promises—"
“She’s not paying me, if that’s what you’re getting at. I’m not evil.”
The doctor nodded, humming. “Is that why you’ve agreed to this? To prove you’re not evil?”
“No, I don’t…” Cas sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe. When I thought about not trying, it was only to hurt the animal who hurt my mom. That animal is this kid’s father and...” She fidgeted in her seat and rolled her shoulders, gaze fallen to her lap. “And mine. I don’t like it, but it’s not the kid’s fault, so…no point in letting him suffer if he doesn’t have to.”
“It’s not your fault, either, the fact that you and Aaron are related.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” Cas squeezed her eyes shut, squashing the tears stinging her eyes with her thumb and forefinger before they could gather enough to fall. “Look, I got a lot of hell growing up over how I came into this world. And someone really special to me…she helped me see that it wouldn’t be right to put Aaron through the same thing for the same reason. So.” She sniffled and grunted. “If there’s a chance something good can come out of this terrible situation that we all agree is neither of our faults, then I’ll take it. If it works out, I’ll be happy for the boy.”
“If it doesn’t?”
“I hope it does.”
✽ ✽ ✽
Desmond was on the vacation he promised his mother, leaving his house unoccupied. Like all of Chea’s possessions, the spare key to Desmond’s house was handed down to Caspar. This was the first time since she was a kid that she had a reason to use it, what with the Sergeant’s place being most convenient when going between the hospital to complete the donor match testing and Melvin’s house to watch over Amie.
In the shower, snippets of that conversation in the shrink’s office flashed to mind. The results of all the tests would be in any hour now. Soon, she would get a call that would lead to a promise – one she couldn’t control the outcome to. But that was a worry for later. Once she stepped out of the shower, Cas stored away those ‘what ifs’ about Aaron and focused on keeping the promise she made to Amie.
The girl who never sat still had yet to run around town with a list of errands or stop in her favorite diner for the past five days. Caspa
r only knew she was alive and presumably okay because she would open her window when she heard the truck outside and look down before closing the curtains back.
Other people had been coming and going from Larry’s place, too. People of different ages, sexes, sizes, and states of dress. All of them with bags of groceries and baked goods. Some would give Larry a kiss when they left, being all cheeky and overly friendly, while others would simply shake hands or wave like they only knew him in passing as they jogged off his property. Caspar couldn’t figure out exactly what they were doing, but she was damn sure it wasn’t anything Amie wanted to be a part of and she was even more lost on what problem could be solved by it.
Roadie was chewing up another throw pillow on the couch when Caspar came into the living room, pulling on a plain white t-shirt. She grabbed her jacket off the back of a chair and rummaged for a quick lunch in the kitchen cabinets.
“Be good, Roads. I’ll check on you in a few hours.”
She drove to Larry’s and reclaimed her spot across the street. On cue, Amie peeked out the window. That was all Cas needed. She turned off the truck, got out her snacks and waited there the whole afternoon.
After the street lights came on and the air got a few degrees colder, a new kind of visitor went up to Larry’s door. Some kid in baggy clothes and a full fanny pack around his waist. He went inside then left five minutes later with the fanny pack folded up in his pocket.
It was getting close to the time Cas would leave to check on Roadie. Amie usually peeked out of her window again before then. This time she didn’t, so Cas waited another ten minutes. Then another thirty. The light in Amie’s room never came back on.
That didn’t sit right with Cas. She got out of the car, crossed the street, and knocked on the door. No answer. Music was playing loudly from somewhere deep in the house, rattling the windows. Rather than knock again, she came in through the unlocked back door and followed the music to the basement.
