by Freya Barker
A door slams in the back, followed by the sound of running feet.
“Ike!” Syd yells down the hall. I immediately jump into action at the panic I hear in her voice. The scrape of a stool behind me tells me Tim is right behind me as I take off down the hall toward Syd. “It’s Viv,” she manages when I get close. “Alley.”
Without stopping, I run past her and barrel through the back door, trying to get a bead on Viv.
“Let me go, you fucking whore!” I hear coming from the other side of the dumpster. I don’t think, I just start running. When I round it, I finally have eyes on the alley, and on Viv running after a limping man. I have no fucking idea what’s going on, but I run full out in their direction when I see Viv jump on the guy’s back, screaming.
I’m almost there when the large man tosses Viv off his back like she weighs nothing, and she lands on the ground with a loud smack. Before the guy has a chance to take off, I reach out, pull his hand away from his face and land a right hook, right in the jaw, knocking him on his ass. It’s only then I see the blood already pouring down his face. Tim catches up and trusting he’ll keep an eye on this asshole, I immediately turn to Viv, who’s trying to sit up.
“Cops,” she says, panting hard. “You’ve gotta call the cops. It’s Frank.”
“Are you okay?” She is my first concern. I see angry red marks on her face when I kneel down beside her. I have to fight the urge to turn around and finish the fucking bastard off.
“Yeah, yeah.” She waves her hand impatiently. “Call the cops—call Bragdon.”
“They’re on their way.” Arnie, who’d been in his usual spot at the bar earlier, seems to have followed us out, along with a few other regulars. All are standing around Frank, who has his bloody face covered with both his hands, swearing loudly about the bitch who blinded him. Even if he could see, there’s no way he would dare make a move on her. Not with all of us surrounding him.
With Arnie’s help, I pull Viv to her feet, turning her toward me, and folding her in my arms. “Fuck, babe. There went another twenty years. I’ll be old before my time with you.”
The little snort of amusement from the vicinity of my armpit, where Viv has tucked her face, lightens some of my worry.
“You took him down good,” I can’t hold back the pride in my voice.
“Took him down like a fucking linebacker,” Arnie adds with a smirk on his face. “That’s my girl.”
I throw him a grin. “Back off old man. The girl is mine.”
Viv
An odd sense of déjà vu hits me as I look around the kitchen. Wasn’t that long ago that most of these people were assembled, and once again it’s as a result of the actions of my ex. This is hopefully the last time, though.
The police, in the form of Mike Bragdon, the EMTs, and Gunnar, who had been at home with the kids, all arrived at the same time. Apparently I’ve done some damage to Frank’s eyes; something I want to feel guilty about but don’t. Call me cold-blooded, but the man has gotten away with altogether too much since that fateful day I met him. No, I’m not going to feel guilty. This is the last time I’ll have scrapes and bruises on my body at his hands. My right eye is swollen shut from the impact with the side of the dumpster and the rest of me bears the evidence of the struggle I waged to get away from him.
He’s been carted off to the hospital, with a police cruiser following. According to Mike, they’ll be charging him with assault and violating a restraining order. The latter is only considered a misdemeanor, but the assault is a felony. It’ll be a tug-of-war as to where he’ll be tried, since he already has a felony charge in California for the same offense, but I don’t frankly care. Only thing that matters is that all of them combined will ensure he gets put away for a nice long time.
Tim had to hold Ike back when the idiot decided to threaten me with an assault charge. Good thing too, since he’d been strapped down to a stretcher already. He might’ve had real cause for complaint then.
I’d been quickly looked over and although the EMT examining me said it might not be a bad idea to get some x-rays done, I opted out. I’ve had enough bones broken, I know what it feels like. Not spending another second in the hospital at the hands of that man. Ike seemed to understand and assured the medic he’d keep an eye on me.
“Shall I get out the good stuff?” Syd’s sitting on Gunnar’s lap and elbows him in the stomach when he tries to glare at her. “It’s a special occasion,” she adds.
“That’s what you say every time you start pouring a two hundred dollar bottle,” he grumbles, only half-serious. “And you can’t drink,” he adds.
“Like I would. Geeze.” Syd rolls her eyes for effect, as she pushes off and goes to fetch another bottle from Gunnar’s prized collection of exclusive liquor. Gunnar kicked everyone out and closed the pub when he got here, other than Arnie who stayed behind, wanting to make sure I was all right. He’s at the end of the table, a bemused look on his face.
Tim’s sitting across from me, looking confused. Guess he doesn’t know yet that Syd’s expecting. Ike is beside me, his chair pulled as close as he can get it; his arm is slung over the back of my chair possessively. His other hand is holding one of mine, restlessly rubbing his thumb over my skin. Almost as if he wants to assure himself I’m still here.
“You okay?” I ask him softly. His eyes, that were staring off in the distance, turn to me. “You seem a little edgy. I’m fine, you know. It’s over.”
“I know. I’m good.” His mouth forms a smile, but it’s far from convincing.
Syd comes back in with a tray of shot glasses and a bottle, preventing me from prodding further. Probably not the best place and time to have a heart-to-heart anyway. Not in the kitchen with a room full of prying ears and eyes.
“Ah, fuck, Bird,” Gunnar says when he spots the bottle on the tray. “Not the AsomBroso.” He dramatically drops his head back and looks up at the ceiling.
“Why not? The bottle seemed appropriate. Looks a bit phallic, doesn’t it? We can raise a glass to that cocksucker—may we never hear from him again.”
Arnie and Tim burst out laughing at the swearword from Syd’s mouth. Doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it has maximum impact. I guess that’s why Ike can’t help but chuckle, even Gunnar has a smile teasing his lips. Besides, she’s right: the bottle looks like a complete package, cock and balls.
-
When we finally head out, I’m half in the bag, but Ike stuck to one shot only. He’s fishing the extra helmet from the saddlebag when I come up behind him and wrap my arms around his middle.
“Want to walk to the end of the wharf with me before we go?” I ask with my cheek pressed against his back. I feel his movements still, but it takes a while for him to answer.
“Sure.”
Hanging the extra helmet off one of the handlebars, he grabs my hand. I twist it in his so I can entwine my fingers with his. When he looks down at me with a soft smile, I lean my head against his shoulder, and we walk onto the pier.
The sea is calm and peaceful, and the only wind is a gentle fresh breeze coming off the water. Much different than the last time we were out here, getting slammed about in the cruel water. Maybe that’s why I feel the need to be out here, just to confirm it is over. That some of the turbulence of the past weeks has finally settled down.
Ike
I wasn’t kidding when I told Viv another twenty years was taken off my life.
Sitting in the kitchen of The Skipper, I wasn’t quite able to join in the almost celebratory mood. My mind was stuck on the fact that I almost lost her twice now. Fine—perhaps a bit melodramatic in hindsight—but I can’t quite seem to shake the fear I felt, seeing her wrestle with that big man. I think what probably bothers me most, is that every time she looks at me with near hero worship in her eyes, I’m thrown back to a time I used to see that look in my brother’s eyes.
I know he idolized me when we were growing up. Followed me willingly into the Navy. If not for me, he wouldn’t
have been on that damn ship. He wouldn’t have been at that fucking counter, fetching me my drink, when hell broke loose. He would’ve been in college, like my father wanted for him. Or already working at a safe place. That’s where he should’ve been. My father reminded me often enough while he was still alive. Each time driving the dagger further home. Christ, there’d been times the guilt was almost too much.
That look of utter confidence, of complete trust, it doesn’t seem right. It’s a reminder I haven’t earned it yet. I haven’t trusted Viv with that dark period of my life.
As I’m walking down the wharf with her hand in mine and her head on my shoulder, I think perhaps it’s time.
“Want to sit down for a bit?” I ask when we reach the end. There are no benches, but I sit down on the edge and pull Viv down with me. Our legs dangle over the side with the water far below us.
It’s quiet this time of night. No squawking of the gulls or sounds of traffic in the distance like during the day. You might hear the occasional engine of a fishing boat returning late, but other than that, it’s just the sound of the water moving against the pilings below us.
I wrap my arm around Viv and tuck her close to me.
“When my brother was twenty-four, he was assigned to the USS Cole. That was two months after me.”
Viv raises her head from my shoulder and watches my face as I stare out into the ocean.
“Ben always was a happy-go-lucky kid. Would tag along behind me, which I didn’t always appreciate growing up. I was more serious. But when he joined the Navy, I was proud of him. Later when he joined the crew on the USS Cole, I couldn’t have been happier. That day, instead of heading to his bunk to get some sleep at the end of his shift, he looked for me in the galley, and found me. We didn’t get a chance to see each other often, sometimes weeks at a time, so it was a treat when we were able to connect.” I pause for a moment, trying to come up with the words, when Viv puts a hand on my chest.
“You don’t have to tell me,” she says quietly.
I lean in and kiss her softly before turning back to the water. “I do. I need to tell you how when a bomb blew a forty-by-sixty-foot hole in the hull of the vessel, my brother was getting me a drink. I’d been too fucking lazy to get it myself. While he was charming his way to the front of the line, a couple of suicide-bombing terrorists pulled up to the side of the ship and blew themselves up. My brother’s was one of the seventeen other lives they took with them.”
She lays her head back down on my shoulder and wraps both her arms around me, not saying a thing, and I’m grateful for that.
“It took me a while, but I found him. The water was trying to pull him out to sea, but I held on to him. I wasn’t going to let go.” I feel the soft shaking of her shoulders under my arm. She’s crying and I feel bad for being the cause of that.
“I can’t remember much else. All I know is that my parents were never the same.”
I don’t even realize I have tears running down my face until Viv crawls in my lap, facing me, with her legs wrapped around my back and her hands wiping at the wetness on my cheeks. I notice the water behind her, and promptly wrap my arms tightly around her, worried she might fall back.
With her hands firmly against my cheeks, she tilts my head to look at her. “You won’t let me fall ... I trust you.”
Overcome with emotion, I press my face in the crook of her neck. She fucking trusts me. The kicker is, for the first time I really believe it.
Don’t know if it’s been hours, or merely minutes, that we sit at the edge of the water, wrapped around each other, holding the other up. By the time Viv climbs off my lap and pulls me to my feet, I feel empty; yet at the same time, as full as I’ve ever felt.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Viv
“What’s on the menu today?” Ike’s sleep-roughened voice mumbles in my neck.
Every morning I wake up either sprawled on top of his body, or on my side, with him wrapped around me from behind. There seems to be no personal space in either of our beds. We’ve been alternating between places, but I have to admit, I like his place better. Better mattress, gorgeous big bathroom, and a deck off the kitchen that catches the morning sun—perfect to enjoy that first cup of coffee on. Beats my little three-by-three balcony any day.
Funny how for two people who insisted they didn’t want any attachment, we seem to have grown attached at the hip, or thereabouts. I mean, I had no clue sex could be so addictive and so ... satisfying. Ike at twenty-five would probably have killed me, going by the stamina he seems to have at forty-two. Even more intense the past couple of days, since we were out on the pier. We’ve talked quite a bit too: Ike about his brother, his father’s blame, and his own guilt. I opened up a little bit more about my life with Frank after the events of Sunday night. Not easy talks by all means, but cleansing in a way and more intimate than any sexual interaction we’ve had. There’s something about sharing yourself with someone who shares back. The feeling of being completely exposed, physically and emotionally, the most terrifying and yet exhilarating feeling at the same time.
I snuggle a little deeper into Ike and his arms tighten around me.
“Dino is in charge. I’m not sure whether he’s gonna throw something else on the menu. May just be our regular fare, depending on his mood.”
I groan loudly when my body lets me know in no uncertain terms that it’s time to get up. I don’t want to. I want to stay snuggled in my warm, safe cocoon.
“Where’re you going?”
Ike sounds like he was drifting off again, when I untangle myself from his limbs and grudgingly swing my legs over the side of the bed. Leaning back, I give him a quick kiss, but he’s not letting me get away with that. Dragging me on top of him as he rolls onto his back, he devours my mouth with his lips and tongue.
“Mmmm. Much better,” he says through a grin.
“Won’t be for long if you don’t let me go. I’m about to pee all over you,” I point out my increasing state of urgency.
Reluctantly he lets me go and I can feel his heavy-lidded eyes follow me to the bathroom. I flip down the seat, thinking I really should work on getting him a bit more domestically trained, but I honestly can’t be bothered. Seriously? In the grand scope of things, what does a pile of dirty clothes next to a hamper, toothpaste squeezed from the middle, or a seat left up, really matter? Growing up with all boys, I’ve learned to be grateful for a man actually lifting the seat.
Thinking about the boys, I talked to Dorian yesterday, who is flying into Boston with Kyle on Friday night. Ike suggested maybe I stay with him, and let those two take my apartment. I still haven’t talked to any of the others. My resolution to make the first approach stalled after receiving a rather icy message on my phone from my mother, wanting to know when I was going in to see my father, he’s been asking about me. I’d been stunned at first and angry after. It’s like what I told them wasn’t heard at all. In talking to Pam about it, she tried to explain that perhaps my mother had become adept at ignoring what she doesn’t want to see or has no control over, as a means of coping, over the years. That maybe given the current circumstances—my father’s health, the subsequent move from and sale of the house—my mother may simply be unable to process anything more. Denial is the name of the game.
I pull off a wad of toilet paper, when the bathroom door opens and Ike casually walks in.
“Ike!” I almost scream, having been caught in mid-wipe.
“What?” he says, pulling open the shower door and turning on the tap, before turning to me, bending down and kissing the top of my head.
Dumbfounded, I’m totally tongue-tied and slightly mortified as he stops to inspect his teeth in the mirror, before squirting a goodly amount of toothpaste, from the middle, onto his toothbrush. With the toothbrush in his mouth, he proceeds to shove down his boxers and step into the shower. Toothbrush and all.
“Babe ...” Ike’s head peeks around the shower door, catching me with my mouth still open, his own
mouth foaming with toothpaste, “Don’t flush. I’ll do it after,” before he disappears again.
That jump-starts me. Unfolding from the crouched position I’d taken on, I pull up my undies, and defiantly push the lever. The muffled swearing as I see him jump around to avoid the scorching hot spray through the frosted glass, brings a smile to my face. Serves you right.
I slip back into the bedroom, put on some leggings and a T-shirt from my overnight bag and head downstairs to the kitchen.
That’s where Ike finds me after his shower, bent over the newspaper I’d grabbed off the front step and sipping on the fresh coffee I made.
“Gonna make you pay for that, you minx,” he whispers, his lips skimming the back of my neck, sending tingles down my spine. Pretending to ignore him, I watch his back as he makes his way over to coffeepot, secretly enjoying the view of his wide back and tight ass moving under his dress shirt and jeans. With the sleeves rolled up, I can see the ripple of muscles in his strong forearms, giving me another little shiver.
“You deserved it; walking in on me like that,” I finally say, straightening up. The slight tilt of his mouth and the raised eyebrow when he turns around should irritate me. Instead, it makes me feel all warm and mushy.
“Babe,” he says in a serious tone. “I’ve seen you naked. Know every square inch of your body. Quite intimately, I might add.”
“It’s not the same,” I lamely counter.
“Okay then, how’s this?” he says as he slowly stalks back to me. “I have nothing to hide from you. Not anymore.” He reaches me and slowly swings me around on the stool, inserting himself between my legs and wrapping his arms around my back. “There’s nothing you need to hide from me. I’ve never met anyone I wanted to share everything with, until you. So when I walk into the bathroom when you’re in there—don’t see it as me intruding—see it as me wanting to be close to you, regardless of where you are, or what you’re doing.”
“Well,” I huff, unimpressed by the smirk on his face as he leans in for a touch of his lips to my nose before going back to fixing his coffee.
