Keep Happy

by A. C. Bextor

  More anxious, she continues. “But this color complements your eyes.”

  “Not a chance.”

  With nothing for it, she pushes, “You could wear it with anything. Slacks, jeans… literally whatever you wanted.”

  Snatching it from her grasp, I toss it on the rack without bothering to hang it where it was. “I literally just told you no.”

  “You’re moody for a guy who gets to buy a young girl a birthday present,” she rightfully observes. “I’m turning thirteen. This is a big deal.”

  In teenage world, it probably is. In my world, I’m sure it’s not. And she’s right. I’m moody. Agitated I haven’t had the time I wanted with her mother. Annoyed everyone around finds it funny that I am.

  Not to mention, I hate shopping of any kind.

  “So, if I’m supposed to buy you something for your birthday, why are we looking at clothes that fit me?”

  “My present to myself is to get you something.”

  “Then let’s go buy me a beer.”

  “Nope. No beer, McButterpants. But we could go get lunch at Sir Diablo’s, if you’re peckish.”

  Peckish. Jesus.

  “They might sell you beer.”

  Sir Diablo’s prolongs my time until I’m back with Katie. The time I plan to use wisely, considering this ‘taking it slow’ is taking for-fucking-ever.

  “How about we get something quick and to-go,” I suggest.

  “What?” Averie shrieks, forcing five women to turn their heads in our direction. This means there are five new witnesses if I’m forced to drag Averie out of here.

  “Kid, if you don’t start movin’ you’re walkin’ home.”

  “Brute.”

  “Brat.”

  “Move,” I demand, pointing to the department store door.

  Averie doesn’t move. Instead she snaps, “My mom said that you were impatient.”

  “She did, did she?”

  “And she also said you were stubborn.”

  “I’m sure she did,” I say again.

  “I say you’re impossible.”

  “Say what you want, just get goin’ while you say it.”

  An hour and a half later, Averie and I are standing outside the last place I promised to take her if she couldn’t find anything she deemed birthday present worthy.

  She’s looked through every department, scanned every aisle, and ended up with a purse. A purse. One I’m certain should double as a small house, considering I paid enough to put a down payment on one.

  “It’s Michael Kors,” she explains for the fifth time. “Amelia is going to be so mad when I tell her she can’t borrow it.”

  Pulling my keys from my pocket, I nod toward her side of my new truck.

  “Get in and buckle up. Your mom’s gonna be pissed we’re gettin’ you home late.”

  “No, she won’t,” Averie insists. “You fed me and bought me presents. That’s all she’ll care about.”

  “Get in.”

  “And she knows how I get when I’m fired up for a day of shopping.”

  Unfortunately, after all the mind-numbing events I’ve endured this afternoon, I now know this too. Going forward, Averie will get a one and done gift card every year. It won’t be designer. It won’t be expensive. But it’ll be from me and that’ll be enough.

  And someone else will take her to spend it.

  “Cole?” Averie calls from her side of the truck.

  My steps falter hearing her reference to Cole. Not Mason or McButterpants.

  I can’t see Averie from where I stand. But the fear in her voice moves me quickly.

  She calls again as I round the truck and make my way over. Averie’s hand is white from grasping the door handle. Her body is unmoving, frozen in place by fear. Her bright blue eyes are shimmering in the sunlight. Caleb wraps his hand around the back of her neck, tugging her into his side with a rough yank. She still doesn’t let go of the handle, nor the shopping bag with her present inside.

  Averie is in shock, which is probably good.

  “Hey, Cole.” Caleb greets with ease, his voice raspy as though he hasn’t spoken out loud in days. “How’s life?”

  “Caleb,” I call him firmly.

  “Well, how about that?” he says to Averie. “The traitorous bastard remembers who the fuck I am.”

  “Caleb,” I call again. “What the fuck are you doin’?”

  My old friend has changed but he also hasn’t. Caleb Marcos has always been dirty. Even back when I knew him. He always wore clothes that were old, worn-out, and tired. He rarely showered or shaved.

  His face is covered in filthy, unkempt hair. His skin is wrinkled and toned gray. The clothes he’s wearing aren’t his. They wear a few sizes too big. And they haven’t been washed in weeks. He smells of dirt, grime, and deranged perversity.

  “Let Averie go,” I demand, carefully keeping watch on his hands.

  “Good to see you too, prick,” he sneers. Bending he puts his mouth to Averie’s ear, he keeps his eyes to mine. “So, I see you and my little Buttercup have been up to some shit without me.”

  At the nickname, I tense. He knows she’s Katie’s daughter.

  “Cole,” Averie calls, her voice and body trembling in terror.

  Jesus Christ.

  “Caleb,” I bid, aiming to keep his focus to me.

  “You let me sit in that cell,” he comes back at me. “No calls. No letters. You didn’t come visit once,” he hisses, taking another step back, dragging Averie back a foot with him.

  He’s holding a blade at Averie’s throat. He adds pressure and she whimpers as a drop of her blood trickles down her neck. If she panics, starts to move, she’ll be much worse off.

  Fuck no.

  “Averie, sweetheart. Keep your eyes here. On me,” I encourage.

  “Sweetheart,” Caleb repeats then hisses, “Cole calls you sweetheart?”

  “Cole?” Averie responds with terror. “Help me.”

  Lifting my hands in surrender, as not to jar Caleb from his place, I attempt to calm her. “Averie, honey. You’re okay. It’s okay.”

  “Mom,” she calls next, her voice shaking. “I want my mom.”

  “You don’t need your mommy where we’re goin’, baby.” Caleb bends again, this time to lick her ear and grin at me before he takes a nip of it between his teeth. “Daddy Caleb’s here now.”

  Averie’s small body jolts in place. Her hand holding the shopping bag goes limp, dropping her birthday present to the ground. Yet, she does what I’ve told her—holding her eyes with mine.

  Good girl.

  “What do you want, Marcos?” I prod, scanning the area around us.

  If I make a move in against him, chances are no one would come to help. Two guys, looking as street worthy as we do, could cause onlookers to turn a blind eye.

  If I yelled for help, not being close enough to Averie to save her, he could hurt her.

  Rather than do either, I decide to stall and figure out what exactly he’s after.

  “What I want is a fuckin’ apology, Cole. Show me you’re sorry for turning on me when I needed you.”

  “I’m sorry,” I give him without pause. “Fuck, Caleb. I’m sorry.”

  “I said show me.”

  “Show you?”

  “Prove your regret. Give me the girl. Walk away. Let me have a taste of this again before I go back to the cage.”

  Fuck no.

  Shaking my head and feigning calm, I return, “You know I won’t do that.”

  “You don’t do that, she gets hurt anyway.”

  “Stop this,” I return, talking to him as though we were still brothers in friendship. “Just give her to me and walk away.”

  “You’re a cop now, right?” he questions, his eyes crazy with excitement. “I read about you. My court-appointed fuckup for a lawyer kept me updated on all things Mason Allen Cole.”

  “I am a cop,” I confirm. “And doing what you’re doing now, even being a cop, I can’t help you. So st
op this and go.”

  “You gotta dirty yourself, friend. You’re too clean.”

  “Caleb,” I call.

  “You and me, we used to be something together. Do you remember the shit we used to get away with?”

  Yes. I remember.

  We were our fathers’ sons. We were nothing more than wasted youth who lived each breath to drain society.

  As teenagers, Caleb and I found ourselves in the middle of a crime ring. We were hired out by small-time crooks with big bank accounts. We were paid to collect debts they were owed and collect them in a way the person in debt would always remember. We were associated with loan sharks, drug dealers, and the like. We were kids doing the legwork for the living evil.

  That was until I met Katie. She walked in on a deal gone bad. I wanted to protect her from men like Caleb. I needed to keep her safe. And that day and many that followed, I did.

  “I remember, Caleb.”

  “You miss it?” he asks, his face shifting with reflection. “I miss it. We were brothers.”

  “We had nothing then,” I use caution to recall. “Our lives at home were shit.”

  “Your dad took his hands to you. I would’ve killed him if you’d have let me.”

  “Your dad raped you,” I declare carefully, shaking my head at Averie. “He had no right to touch you the way he did.”

  “Fuck you, Cole. Fuck what you think you know.”

  “I know he was a monster. I know he broke you.”

  “You don’t know shit.”

  “My dad beat me,” I continue. “But they’re both dead now. They don’t matter. We’re still here. It’s what we do now that matters.”

  Averie’s eyes are shining in tears.

  I hate she’s hearing this about my life, especially for the first time. She doesn’t know me as her mom does. She never witnessed the broken man my father tried to make me. She shouldn’t have to hear about Caleb’s home life either.

  But I have no other choice. If I can make him weak using old memories, I may be able to catch him off guard.

  “Growin’ up, you used to tell me I was your only friend. Well, I’m still your friend now,” I lie again. “Whatever you need, man. I’m here and I’ll do.”

  “Prison is shit,” he tells me, loosening his hold on Averie’s neck as he recounts his experience out loud. “The guards don’t give a fuck what happens in the yard. My father was a saint compared to some of those animals.”

  “And you went to prison a convicted child rapist.”

  “Makes what they do to me all the worse,” he says sadly, dropping his hand from Averie’s neck. His other still has the knife trained on her neck but she’s breathing easier.

  “Our fathers made us what we are,” I admit. “We’re still pieces of shit with colored tats and shitty souls.”

  “You think so?” he replies. “’Cause from where I’m standin’, it looks like you made somethin’ of yourself.”

  “I didn’t,” I lie. “I’m still the same fuck off I’ve always been. I just wear a uniform to hide behind it.”

  So fast I barely see it happen, Averie lifts her foot and steps on Caleb’s toe with enough force to startle him. She takes off, running toward me but not before he catches the back of her head and grabs a handful of her hair, sending her to her knees.

  “Caleb!” I scream, stepping forward and grabbing the wrist that holds his knife.

  Rapid footsteps hitting pavement comes from in the distance.

  When a heavy slice of pain slashes down my side, I fall against Caleb’s worn body. His breaths are heavy as I hold him by the throat against the side of my truck.

  “Fuck, Cole. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” he chants in panic, bringing his bloody hand to his face. “I wasn’t ever gonna hurt you.”

  “You fuckin’ touched her!” I roar.

  Where the fuck is she?

  “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” Caleb continues to chide, hitting the back of his head on the window again and again.

  My fingers tighten around his neck, holding him and turning his face red.

  “I’m fucked. I can’t go back there. No fuckin’ way,” he chokes out.

  When he reaches in his coat pocket and pulls out a small caliber hand gun, my body tenses. I’m too close. Averie is too fucking close.

  Caleb points the gun to his head. I make a quick move for it, but he maneuvers from my hold and steps away from the truck and the growing group of onlookers. Using my body as a shield, I block Averie’s view.

  “This isn’t for her,” Caleb states, still holding the gun to his head. “It’s for me. I can’t go back, Cole. I can’t.”

  Averie screams as the gun goes off, sending Caleb’s dead body crashing to the ground not three feet from where we stand.

  One of her hands clutches mine, the other wrapping around my waist. She hides her face in my back.

  “Mason?” she cries out, a shooting pain flaring at my side. “You’re bleeding!”

  Looking down at her bloody hand, I wince, the pain settling in.

  “You’re hurt!” she screams.

  The sirens draw closer, so I turn her around, continuing to block her view.

  Grabbing her face with my hands, I lean my forehead to hers to block out any view of Caleb she could catch. I give a small smile. Her hands grasp my wrists as tears stream down her face.

  “You remember takin’ that ride in my cruiser?”

  Sniffling, she grows alert. “Yeah.”

  “Ever taken one in an ambulance?”

  Averie fights a shaky smile but answers, “Can we?”

  Nodding, knowing she needs this distraction more than I need a hospital, I return, “I’m bleedin’, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “We probably gotta get me medical attention, don’t you think?”

  “Can I sit up front?” she queries, her mind reeling with possibilities.

  I need to get her home. To her mom and sister, safe before her adrenaline crashes and the events of today settle in.

  “Turn around and don’t look back. You walk to the curb and I’ll grab your birthday bag. Then we’ll catch a ride with the sirens.”

  Before she does as instructed, she closes her eyes and wraps her arms around my neck, buries her face in my neck and breathes, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

  Holding her close, I kiss her temple and return, “Me too, baby. Let’s go.”

  MOTHER FUCKING HELL.

  My head is pounding and I’m sick to my stomach.

  The doc offered me pain meds, which I refused to take. They’re sitting in a little white paper cup, mocking me as I lie in a private emergency room bed waiting for discharge.

  Looking down, I pick at the bandage over my first ever stab wound.

  “Oh, look who’s finally awake.”

  My eyes move in the direction of the voice. An overweight, friendly-face, African-American nurse with an impressive Afro smiles as she punishes her patient for dozing off.

  “Been waiting to see what color eyes you have. Thankfully, the wait was worth it and you didn’t disappoint,” she playfully flirts on a wink. “Blue. Should have figured. All the hot ones have those rich, beautiful eyes.”

  I smile but it’s weak.

  “My name is Greta,” she introduces. “And I’ll be with you ‘til you’re cleared to go.”

  The ambulance ride did as I’d hoped. Averie drove the driver as crazy as she’d driven me the day we met. She played with buttons, the radio, and the equipment until I finally called her off.

  When I was pulled away and put into a back room to get treated and give my statement, Rob had taken a stressed and nervous Averie to be checked out. He reported back that Katie was on her way, and the nick to Averie’s neck only required cleaning.

  Looking around the room, but not finding a clock, I ask, “How long have I been in here?”

  “Four hours, maybe.” She messes with a large clipboard, pad, and pen before casting me a glance. “Doc’s been keeping your visitors away
until your cop friends agree you’re able to head home.”

  “And when will that be?”

  “Soon,” she returns. “Paperwork. You know.”

  I do know.

  “People are sayin’ you took that monster down,” Greta claims. “You’re a hero.”

  Damn it, that’s what people are going to call me.

  I break a noise resembling a grunt and avoid looking at her directly.

  I didn’t take the monster down. He surrendered himself. What matters is that Caleb Marcos is dead. He’s where he should be—hopefully burning in hell.

  Thank God Averie’s okay.

  Turning to my bedside table, I notice my cell phone charging.

  Reading my thoughts, the nurse goes for my phone and lays it gently in my hand. “Friend of yours stopped in, brought you your phone and charger.”

  “Thanks,” I reply, reaching it slowly.

  Opening the screen, several messages have come through.

  Averie 3:36 p.m. I hope you’re doing better.

  Averie 3:55 p.m. That guy Roberino said I could come try to wake you up in a little bit.

  Roberino? Jesus Christ, she’s nicknamed my partner too.

  The text messages continue.

  Averie 4:21 p.m. Are you awake yet?

  Averie 5:01 p.m. If you don’t answer soon, I’m breaking in to get you.

  And finally, the last.

  Averie 5:08 p.m. I’m breaking in.

  Obviously, my ever-in-motion, teenage tormentor didn’t get the nap I did.

  “Beautiful eyes and gorgeous smile,” Greta observes when I smirk at Averie’s insistence. “Need anything before I go?”

  “I’m good,” I reply.

  Pointing to my door, she explains, “The two young ones outside are a handful. All puffing their chests at the staff and demanding to see you.”

  ‘Demanding’ can only be used to describe Averie. But Amelia? Doubtful.

  “I’ll go get the doc. Then you can see to your girls.”

  Closing my eyes and resting my head on the pillow, I take a breath and listen as the nurse finishes moving in and around my room with expertise.

  As she leaves I hear her subtle ‘whoa’ then, “Sir, he can’t have visitors yet.”

  Thomas stands next to her at the door. He looks around the room until he finds me on the bed.