Tainted Love

by Jaimie Roberts

  “In nursing, paediatrics.”

  Charlie nods his head in approval. “I’ve seen you sat at the counter numerous times, reading all sorts of medical books.”

  It surprises me that he’s even noticed. I always thought he disappeared into his office, rarely ever resurfacing. I didn’t realise he might have been spying on me. Hmm… interesting.

  “I live and breathe that stuff,” I eventually answer.

  “Why aren’t you doing it then?”

  Because Chris needs me more.

  “I guess it’s just not my time yet.” I bite my lip, wondering if I should tell him something that I haven’t told anyone yet. “But… having said that, I have been working on a degree online… for a while now.” So far, I have been acing my coursework because of the extensive knowledge I was already armed with, but what I don’t mention is the fact that I’ll have to do some practical hours to complete this degree.

  “As much as I like having you in the shop, I also like the fact that you have ambition. You’re too young to get tied down to working in an antique store all your life.”

  “Why do you do it then?”

  “What? Own and work in an antique store?” I nod my head. “I don’t know. I guess I just like working with old relics.

  “So it makes you happy?”

  “I guess it does, yes.”

  “Then isn’t that the main thing in life? I would rather be someone who cleans toilets and is happy than someone who has riches beyond her wildest dreams but is miserable. I say aspire to what makes you happy, not what you think looks good in other people’s eyes.”

  “Even if it’s cleaning toilets,” he replies, jokingly, his eyebrow raised in challenge.

  I let out a small laugh. “Yeah, even if it’s cleaning toilets. Besides, someone has to do it.” I remember back to our conversation that he conveniently skipped over. “So a black belt, huh? How many years have you kept that under your belt..? Excuse the pun.” I narrow my eyes at him, awaiting his answer. If he wants to play suspicious question games, then so will I.

  He tries to hide a sigh, but his shoulders pick up, and his chest rises before they fall back down again. “I was adopted by a Tibetan couple who were masters in martial arts.”

  I almost have to pick my jaw up from the floor. Of all the answers I was expecting, that wasn’t one of them. Is he for real?

  “Are you being serious?”

  His right eyebrow dips down. It’s kind of weird how he does that.

  “You find it hard to believe I was adopted, or that I was taught martial arts?”

  “No, it’s just of all the things I’d pictured or imagined, I never would have imagined that. Have you ever been to Tibet?” I clasp both hands around my tea mug, relishing the warmth it provides me.

  “Several times, but I haven’t been in a few years.”

  “Why?”

  He fidgets a little in his chair before answering. “I just haven’t had the time lately.” I’m about to ask him about his parents when he speaks. “Have you ever been abroad?”

  From the way he’s been fidgeting when I ask him questions and his way of managing to redirect questions back on to me, one would think he’s hiding something.

  “No, but I would like to.”

  “Got anywhere in mind?”

  I glance away dreamily and smile. “Yeah, Bali.”

  Charlie snorts, causing my head to snap to him. “Bali? That’s quite the jump on your first journey. Have you not thought to go to Europe first and then branch out a little? I mean, what attracts you to Bali?”

  I shrug my shoulders. “I watched one of those wildlife programs a couple of years back, and since then it’s been my obsession. I mean, how cool would it be to live in a beach hut surrounded by a sea so clear, you can watch all the fish scurrying around in the water? Or a beach so soft that when you dip your feet in and lift them up you can feel each grain slip through your toes?”

  “How do you know it’s like that?”

  I pick a biscuit up, breaking it in half again. “I don’t. It’s just how I imagine it.” I pop the biscuit in my mouth, wiping the crumbs from my fingers onto the plate. I can feel him watching my every move. I bet if I was to drop a tiny bit onto the table, he’d be up like a shot, fetching a cloth to wipe it.

  “I bet you’ll be disappointed if you ever go there and find it’s not how you expected it to be.”

  “Call it an intuition, but something tells me I wouldn’t be.”

  Charlie gets up, taking the plate of biscuits and our finished teas before taking a cloth and wiping away imaginary dirt or crumbs that I know aren’t there. I can’t help but smirk at this.

  “Maybe you could be a paediatric nurse in Bali?”

  I raise my shoulders, embracing the idea. “That would be nice.”

  Once Charlie has finished his fussing, he sits down again, his eyes scanning me like he’s appraising me. “Who was that guy who visited earlier?”

  Hmm, back to the questions again. I had no problem with Bali, but this line is going a bit beyond where I’m comfortable.

  “Why do you ask?”

  “He wasn’t here to buy anything, and you looked all pale, like you’d seen a ghost.”

  How do I explain who he is without going into detail? I like the fact that I can come to work, be with Charlie, and somehow feel disconnected from the rest of my life during the few precious hours that I’m here.

  “He’s not from around these parts—”

  “That much I gathered,” he says, interrupting me. “I think I would have noticed him before. He kind of sticks out a bit.”

  “You mean the stache?” I ask, jokingly. Never mind the white hair. I smirk at him and my belly dances when he smirks back.

  “Yeah, the stache.”

  For a moment we’re silent, staring at one another. I know he’s still waiting for an explanation, so I clear my throat. “Chris has been asking questions and generally making himself a nuisance. That guy came in to ask me to tell Chris to back off.”

  “Is this about your attack?”

  I wince at the word attack—even though he’s correct. “Yes, this was about my attack. Chris thinks that guy knew something about it, but he didn’t.”

  “How do you know?”

  I shrug. “He told me a story about an attack on his sister, and I believe him. I don’t think he had anything to do with it.” I fidget in my seat a little, uncomfortable in the knowledge that Charlie now knows bad people are in my life. “I’m sorry your shop got involved in all this. I like the fact that I can come here and get away from all of that…”

  I stop myself before I go further. I’m already giving too much away as it is. Charlie deserves an apology. That much is for certain, but that’s where it needs to end.

  Charlie doesn’t say anything for a while, just narrows his eyes at me like he’s somehow trying to figure me out.

  “It’s fine. As long as it’s not an issue in the future.”

  I shake my head. “It won’t be.”

  I know I can’t guarantee that, but I will certainly try and keep my personal life away from this life.

  “How long have you known with Chris?”

  He doesn’t look at me when he asks me this question, simply leans his elbows on the chair, interlacing his fingers together—all the while my heart is skipping ten million beats an hour. Asking me questions about me is one thing, but we’ll be heading towards completely unwelcome territory if he starts delving down this path.

  I shift uncomfortably in my seat—a movement that catches Charlie’s attention. He narrows his eyes and then opens his mouth to speak. “I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

  Not a question, just a statement.

  “It’s… complicated. That part of my life is separate from work. That’s where I want to keep it.”

  He nods, clearing his throat. ‘Fair enough.”

  My phone rings, startling me. I glance down. Speak of the devil… I answer the call straight away
because I know if I don’t, questions will be asked.

  “Hey, babes. How are you getting on?”

  I look around. Considering there are no windows in this kitchen, it’s hard to tell what’s happening in the outside world. “It’s quiet here. I’ve just finished a cup of tea. How about you?”

  A scraping chair makes my head turn in its direction. Charlie gets up and starts busying himself around the kitchen.

  “It’s still bad out there, so it’ll be a little longer. I know I won’t be able to sleep until you’re home, so I’m just going to have to ride this out. It’s fucking killing me, though.”

  “It’s better to be safe than sorry. Why don’t you just take a alprazolam tonight?” Charlie hesitates over the kitchen sink at my mention of this. Despite the fact he’s pretending not to listen, I know he is.

  “I don’t like taking those fucking things. You’re my alprazolam and always will be, you know that.” He sighs before continuing. “Let’s give it another couple of hours, and I’ll call you. Hopefully the storm will have calmed enough by then.”

  I nod, even though he can’t see me. “That’s fair enough. We’ll speak then.”

  “Love you, babe.”

  My eyes flit up to Charlie, heat tinging my cheeks. “I love you too.”

  I put my phone down and close my eyes, stress kicking in. Chris doesn’t do well without me, and I know the longer this goes on, the more jittery he’s going to be. For now, he’s okay as it’s still relatively early, but the minute night really starts to kick in, so will his nightmares.

  “Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.”

  My head snaps to Charlie, his eyes fixed on me from where he stands by the kitchen sink. He knows about Chris, that much is for certain, but I’m too blown away with what he’s just said to care. “That’s… beautiful.”

  “That’s Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Unfortunately, I can’t take credit for that.”

  I think for a moment about all the times Chris has seemed cold and callous, knowing deep down it’s because he’s suffering.

  “I try my best,” I almost whisper—more to myself than anything.

  “But sometimes your best isn’t good enough, huh? Not everyone is capable of fixing things. Sometimes these things are far beyond our reach.”

  I scrutinise him for a moment. “Are you talking from experience?” I’m not sure. It’s so hard to tell with Charlie.

  “My adopted sister committed suicide when I was thirteen.”

  Fuck.

  “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

  He shrugs his shoulders almost nonchalantly, but I know he’s anything but. “She suffered from depression and anxiety for years. My parents tried to help her, even I did despite being so young. But no matter what we did, she would get worse, not better. Just before she died, she seemed to be so happy. We all thought she was finally breaking through it all. She was a pleasure to be around, always smiling, always laughing. We didn’t realise that deep down she was happy because she had committed herself to ending it all. For her, it was a way out from the constant battles in her head.”

  I sigh, shaking my head. “I can’t imagine what you must have gone through.”

  “It was a long time ago.” He then points to the fridge. “Looks like you’ll be staying for dinner. Is pasta okay with you?”

  It may have been a long time ago, but it’s obviously still very much with him. I’m glad he trusted me enough to open up about his sister, but I can tell that he now wants the matter finished with. And that’s fine with me.

  “Pasta sounds perfect.”

  Charlie’s pasta was absolutely amazing. In fact, the whole evening went really well after that. We ate, and we spoke more about travelling and different foods that we both liked. It was definitely an insight into my boss I’d never thought I would see. When a couple more hours went by and the storm was finally passing, I was reluctant to go, but by the time Chris came to pick me up, it was already past two in the morning, and I needed to get some sleep before work only a few hours later.

  It’s now the next afternoon, and my day has come to an end. I didn’t get to speak to Charlie much today, which was disappointing, but maybe he felt we talked enough yesterday to last him a lifetime. Instead, we used our time to help our fellow neighbours with the damage that the storm had caused the previous night. Although Charlie and I were in close proximity, we never spoke. We did, however, smile at one another on the occasional moments we looked up from either sweeping or clearing debris. Each time my heart soared, and my belly did a funny dance.

  When Chris picks me up from work, he’s smirking, handing me my helmet for the bike. “What’s gotten into you?” I ask, my smile wide because let’s face it, a smile is rather infectious.

  “I have a surprise for you.”

  Biting my lip, I nudge him. “What is it?”

  His eyes dance with mischief, and then he winks at me. “You’ll see. Let’s just say I have been waiting for this moment, and I’m pretty sure you have too.”

  Without another word, he climbs on the bike and motions for me to get on too. I do as he asks, feeling a little flurry of excitement in my belly at what’s in store. Fifteen minutes into the journey, I quickly realise he’s taking me to his warehouse where he keeps all his vans and sometimes products when they’re in between selling to clients.

  Chris comes to a halt outside the warehouse, so I quickly get off, taking the helmet with me. “What you got in here?”

  “The scumbags who attacked you.” My eyes widen. I certainly wasn’t expecting that so soon. “I told you I would find them, and I have.”

  “How did you find them? Who are they? Is one of them Brandon?”

  Chris chuckles at my eagerness. “One thing at a time, baby. You’ll see for yourself who they are. One thing I will tell you is, I did try to find Brandon yesterday, but the fucker slipped through my fingers. I decided to put the feelers out and offered money. It didn’t take long before the smell of cash made loose tongues wag.”

  “I want to see,” I say, my breathing heavy and my heart beating rapidly in my chest. I wouldn’t normally have this morbid curiosity to watch someone die, but considering it’s the people who attacked me, I have zero sympathy.

  Chris nods, taking my hand then leading me into the warehouse. Michael stands guard watching, his arms crossed, chest out, his lips pressed into a hard line. He’s pissed. We’re all pissed.

  And it warms my heart.

  My eyes home in on a single strobe lamp in the middle of the vast empty area. It’s positioned over three men sitting in chairs, their hands bound behind them, blood dripping on the concrete floor below. They’ve been beaten all day by the looks of it, but carefully so that they live long enough to suffer.

  Silently, I step around their chairs to face them head on. All their heads are down, but one looks up.

  Brandon.

  In the end, I knew deep down it would be him. Defiant until his last breath, he’s determined to show me he hasn’t given up yet. Despite only being able to open one eye, he glares at me with a hatred I have never seen before. His lips turn down into a scowl, and then his head rears back, spitting blood onto the floor.

  “You… think… you’re… so… fucking special… don’t you?” His breathing is harsh, the words barely a gargle, but I understood them loud and clear.

  Chris makes a move to hit him, but I put my hand up, shaking my head at him. Chris hesitates, but then moves back, allowing me to do whatever it is I want to.

  I step closer to Brandon—because I can. An arrogant play on my part, but I don’t care. I kneel in front of him, his eyes following my every move. “That’s where you’re wrong,” I begin, pulling out a pocketknife I have had in my back pocket ever since my attack, and opening it up. Brandon’s eyes widen as I bring it close to his face, sliding the edge down his cheek. “I don’t think I’m something special, but I have people in my li
fe who do, and that’s why you’re tied up in this chair completely helpless right now. If you hadn’t been such an arrogant prick, then you would still be alive.”

  “I… am… alive.”

  I smirk at him, causing him to scowl back. “Yes, but not for much longer.”

  He’s about to answer back when I place the knife at his dick. Instinctively, he reacts, trying to pull himself up to get away from the pointed part. I smile at his reaction, and that’s when it hits me.

  I’m actually enjoying his discomfort. I’m enjoying seeing him squirm, and I’m going to enjoy it even more when Chris pulls the trigger ending his life.

  Strange, as I always thought of myself as a compassionate person. I’m unsure as to whether I should be troubled by this notion or not.

  Defiance still in his eyes, Brandon grits his teeth, blood seeping through his gums. “You’re going to burn in hell, bitch!”

  I smirk back. “Well, I guess I’ll see you down there.”

  I glance up to Chris, nodding. I get up, moving out of the way and watch as Chris moves forward, shooting the other two, one at a time. Brandon is next, but Chris hesitates when wetness coats Brandon’s jeans.

  Chris laughs, looking from Michael to me. “The fucker’s pissed his pants.”

  Michael and I chuckle back. “Not so tough now, are you, rapist motherfucker?”

  “Fuck…”

  Brandon doesn’t get a chance to complete his sentence. Chris quickly pulls the trigger, Brandon’s head collapsing forward, his body limp.

  It’s over.

  “Can you and the others deal with this shit?” Chris asks Michael, his head pointing towards the bodies.

  “Larry and Andrew are just out getting some fags. They can help me with this when they get back.”

  Chris hands the gun to Michael then rushes over to me, placing his arms around my shoulders. “Are you okay?”

  Surprisingly so. In fact, I haven’t felt this invigorated in a long time. I nod my head, grabbing his shirt and pulling him to me. In a whispered growl, I say, “I want you.”

  Chris rears his head back, unable to fathom what I’ve just said. “What?”