by Annie Hughes
“Figured. Look I don’t know where we stand here. You’re back, Rayleigh’s pissed, and the old man wants you living in the same space as her.” He laughs sarcastically. “Never simple with you, is it?”
“It’s part of my charm,” I reply dryly, then let out a long breath. “I don’t have to move in here. I’m fine with the apartment from Joey until I make some paper.”
“No, you’ll move in here. Dad’s right, you should. Bad business if you’re living off a different family.”
I sigh heavily. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to fix shit with her. I mean, I’m obviously sorry. I just lost it, you know?” I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table. “All I could see was you wanting out and her by your side. I mean, logically I knew it had nothing to do with her. There always was some hate between you and…” I circle my finger in the air, “…all of this. But the timing, the shit with Dwayne, and then there she was.” I huff out a breath, forcing back the anger of remembering it all. “I swear I was never gonna hurt her, you have to know that. I just wanted to scare her. I dunno, Dyl. I was a kid, stupid and unable to deal with my own fucking emotions.” I shake it off, not wanting to divulge into this conversation any more. “So, Uncle Charles isn’t looking great?”
Dylan snorts. “Yeah, you could say that.” His hand clamps around the neck of the Jack bottle. “He forces himself to still be in the business, but spends most of his time at the big house now.”
I nod my head thoughtfully, not sure what else to say. It isn’t like spending all your time at the ‘big house’ is a bad thing. I mean, the house is awesome. It’s where Dyl and I had lived growing up. It stood tall in the heart of Parkington, a mansion that oozed wealth and secured secrets.
“And you’re living here, obviously,” I say.
I already know the answer to this, but I feel like I should comment. Besides, when I got locked up, he was all about leaving this town and never looking back.
“Uh huh.” He refills our glasses with the amber liquid. “We moved in straight after graduating when Dad got sick. He needed someone to take some of the reigns and since you were gone…” He shrugs.
I laugh. “I wish you could have seen my face when I heard you’d taken over. I mean, no offence, but you were always set to leave all this behind.”
His face takes a somber expression, his eyes darting to the floor before he drags them back up to me.
“Yeah, that didn’t really work out. It isn’t so bad though, for the most part. I actually forgot how,” he searches for the right word, “interesting this could be and, of course, the fake God complex you get.” He laughs now and I allow a small smile. “It changes a person though, as you saw with Rayleigh.”
“Yeah what’s up with that? A gun, really?”
“Rayleigh… I wouldn’t know where to start with that one. She’s so angry all the time.”
I scoff. “I know what that’s like.”
He gives me a dry look before continuing. “Exactly, and look how off the rails you went. She’s just so pissed at the world, and now with you coming back and moving in… fuck knows how she’ll be. I can’t wait to tell her,” he says, his words wrapped in sarcasm.
“I actually can’t believe she didn’t blow my fucking head off just now,” I say and look back to the door she’d recently vacated through. Come to think of it, I’m not exactly sure why he didn’t, and hasn’t. If someone did the shit to my girlfriend that I did to his, I’d fucking murder them. I wouldn’t be sat sharing whiskey with the fucker.
“No, she made a choice, and she knew what she had to do for the family.”
“But you and her man, I mean, you always had this freaky intense connection or whatever. If anyone can help her, I’d figure it for you. “
Regret flashes through his eyes. “Rayleigh and I…” He trails off, his mouth clamping shut as quickly as he opened it. I can see we have a way to go before we’ll be talking women troubles over a beer.
I change the subject. “So Friday… how do you want to play this?”
A small smile plays on his face before we begin to talk business.
Dylan Wade
I’ve been in some pretty tense situations in my life but nothing, and I mean nothing, even comes close to this. I imagine this is the same atmosphere you find on a battlefield, the opposing sides waiting for someone to make the first move as the air grows thick with resentment and hate. Rayleigh is on one side of the lounge, her steel like stare focused on Roman as he walks through from the kitchen, and takes a seat on the couch, his eyes on the iPad in his hand.
He’s been living here for almost two weeks now and it hasn’t got any easier. Rayleigh had been furious the night I told her Roman was moving in, understandable I suppose. Still, it had turned in to a two hour long fight which resulted in me sleeping on the very couch he has his ass on now. I stayed awake all night, racking my brain for a way to make her understand. It’s useless. She hasn’t been around the family long enough to get why certain things have to be done, and how certain things have to be forgotten.
I take a deep breath and walk further in, taking a seat beside her.
“Babe, I’ve got to go out today and handle some stuff for Pops. You wanna come with?”
“No.”
I groan inwardly. She’s being a bitch, and my patience is starting to wear thin. I know this sucks for her, but it’s like she isn’t even trying. I know Roman has tried to talk to her a few times, but she won’t hear him out. I’m actually starting to feel bad for the guy. They need to fix this quick, before it escalates to something that’s completely unfixable.
“Fine,” I huff. “Rome, where you at today?” I ask, moving my focus to him.
He looks up from his iPad. “I’m seeing my parole officer soon. Why? Do you need me with you?”
“Nah man, go do your thing. I’ll grab Kade. I gotta head out, catch you both later.”
I get a response from Roman, but not Rayleigh. It’s not like I expected one. I think she’s more pissed at me than she is at Roman by this point. Does she not see my hands are tied here? With one last look at her I shake my head and leave the apartment. I find Kade downstairs and motion for him to come with me. He falls into step beside me as we leave the bar and climb into my Escalade. I lower my head on the steering wheel in an attempt to calm the headache I’ve developed. Kade chuckles beside me.
“That bad up there then, huh?”
I scoff. “You have no idea, buddy. I’m telling ya, I’ve never seen her like this. She’s about two inches from going postal.” I lift my head up and glance at the window above the bar. “And him… I know him and I know there’s only so much of her shit he’ll take before he fucking snaps.” I shake my head and start the engine. “So, I’m just waiting to see who’ll lose their shit first.”
Kade watches me curiously as I pull away and head on to the main street. A few minutes pass before he speaks.
“You know what? I think they need to lose their shit at each other.” I flick a confused glance at him. Is he crazy? An all out war in my apartment, I don’t think so. “Seriously though man,” he continues. “Maybe they just need to get it all out. Ray’s been angry as hell since college, and we both know it’s because of what he did. Maybe you need to just let them fight this out between them.”
I let his words sink in. Maybe he was right. Maybe I needed to let them deal with this their own way. Or, maybe when I get home later only one of them will be breathing and the other will be headless. So far Roman has kept his cool, but I could see it wavering as the days passed. He’s actually been awesome in the deal with McDowell, and is surprisingly screwed on to the business side of things. The joker, hot-headed guy I grew up with is gone, replaced by a man who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders and kept his opinions to himself. But I can see he’s getting tired of having his apologies thrown back at him, and pretty soon it’s going to become explosive. I just hope we’ll all still be breathing after it happens.
I p
ull up outside The Pit, a small diner just outside the town lines. Tony Greaves has his office in the back here, and I have a bone to pick with him. I crack my neck from side to side when we climb out and look over at Kade. He gives me a firm nod which tells me he’s ready, then we head over. We don’t walk through the main door, instead take the side door which is down the right of the building. I can hear Greaves talking as we enter, and so I push open the door to his office and lean against the frame. His eyes snap up to me almost immediately, surprise first, then recognition cross over his face.
“I believe we need to talk,” I say.
******
“Holy shit, Dyl. What happened?”
I look up at Rome’s words when I enter the bar. Kade limps in beside me.
“Greaves,” Kade mumbles, and a knowing smile plays over Roman’s face.
“You should have said that’s where you were going. I’d have blown off parole,” he laughs.
I shake my head, slightly amused. It isn’t the first time the Wade’s have had a problem with the Greaves’. Rome and I were always fighting with them when we were younger. Hell, I can admit it. I’ve had some of the best nights of my life fucking with them. I glance at myself in the mirror along the back wall of the bar, and cringe slightly at the angry red cut above my eye. Kade slumps down on one of the bar stools and huffs.
“I’m getting sick of this shit.”
I laugh, I can’t help it. Kade isn’t the fighting type. He’s huge, a solid mass of muscle, and could intimidate the biggest of people with one look, but he actually hates any form of physical violence. He had my back in there though. When we walked in, Greaves was alone. But then 3 other guys had appeared from nowhere, and if Kade hadn’t have been there, I’d probably be dead. I frown at my reflection in annoyance. All of this with Rayleigh was frazzling my brain. I’d never normally make a stupid mistake like that. I had to get shit straight with her. I wave off the guys and head up to the apartment. I hear her in the kitchen, so with a deep breath, I walk through. I find her sat on the counter, her bruised knuckles turning white as she grips a coffee cup tight. I stand in front of her and place my hands gently on her knees. She looks down briefly then sighs heavily and locks her eyes with mine. I could see the fury in them, darkening the usual bright blue.
“What happened?” she asks, her thumb brushing over my small injury.
I smile sadly. “Greaves.”
She nods, then reaches to the cupboard beside her and pulls a first aid kit out. I watch her as she dabs alcohol onto cotton, then hiss when she presses it to the cut on my face.
“Sorry,” she says quietly, and I wonder if she’s referring to this or to the past fortnight.
“I’m a big boy, I can take it.”
She laughs softly at this and then drops her hand. I hate this. I hate having this tension, this barrier between us. It isn’t right. This isn’t how we are. Rome was right when he said we have a crazy connection. We’ve beaten so much together, I can’t lose her now, just can’t. But she’s slipping away from me, I can see it, and it scares the shit out of me.
I move her hands and place them around my neck then lift her chin up with my finger, the pain in her eyes almost killing me on the spot.
“Rayleigh,” I start. “I don’t want to fight anymore.” Her legs widen a little and I move forward, standing between them. “I know you’re not happy, and I really wish I could fix it, but I can’t.” I let my forehead rest on hers. “Tell me what I can do, baby, because I don’t like seeing you like this.”
A single tear falls from her eye and I watch is it drops onto my hand.
“I’m trying,” she whispers. “I promise, I really am. But I see him and all I can think of is…” She takes a shaky breath. “…all I can see is that room, that night.”
I sigh. That is the problem. The only memories of him she has, are bad ones. She doesn’t know the good, and isn’t giving him a chance to see how he’s changed. I pull back from her then help her down from the counter. Her hand finds mine and together we walk out the kitchen. She stops me in the lounge and turns to look at me. Her eyes search me for a while before she nods and walks away, down the stairs. I follow her, confused by her actions, and stand in the doorway watching. Silence falls over the bar as she strolls in, but she doesn’t notice. She’s used to this, used to the way people stop what they’re doing to stare. This is what it’s like to be a Wade in this town, respected and feared.
She walks over to the bar, takes a bottle of vodka and two glasses from the shelf, then strolls to the back room door. She pushes it open and turns back, flashing me a discreet smile before her eyes find Roman. He squirms under her focus, not that I can blame him, but he somehow manages to hold her stare. It’s silent for a while, the atmosphere growing denser by the second.
“Roman,” she says, her voice strong. “Can I talk to you?”
His eyes widen, as do my own, and I look back at her. She smirks a little as she turns to me.
“Don’t worry, I’m not armed.”
I laugh at that and then watch in silence as Rome walks across the bar. He looks at me, the question in his eyes obvious, but all I can do is shrug and send him a silent ‘good luck’. Rayleigh tenses as he walks past her through the door and I take a couple of steps until I’m by her side.
“Do you need me to come in there with you?” I ask.
She shakes her head in response, and then surprises everyone by leaning up and kissing me softly.
It’s not that she never kisses me. She just never did in front of people. Ever. Her lips move to my ear and she whispers softly.
“I’m trying. For you.”
Rayleigh Stevens
I take a deep breath before I push the door open. Roman stands awkwardly by the window, his back to me. I walk further in, the heels of my boots clicking against the floor. I place the bottle and two glasses on the table and kick a chair out. Roman turns at the noise.
“Sit down,” I say, keeping my voice level.
He regards me for a while before sighing heavily and dropping down on the chair. I pour vodka in the two glasses then sit in the chair beside him, pushing it back and propping my feet up on the table. I bring the glass to my lips and let the liquid burn down my throat as I try to force down my anger.
Think of Dylan.
“We should talk,” I say, glancing over at him.
He nods slowly. “Yeah.”
Awkward silence falls over us, allowing my mind to roam through memories. My grip on the glass tightens as they crash into me, one by one. I’m desperate to punch something, have been most of the day. The urge to cause damage, to punish myself is all-consuming. When Dylan left this morning, I rushed out the apartment and spent over an hour pounding on the bag. My hands are torn to shreds but I don’t care. I just want this rage out. It’s beginning to cause problems with Dylan, with our life. I can’t understand how he can let the man that put me through hell walk back on in here, and he can’t understand that I can’t forget it. But one look at Dyl’s face just now told me I need to get past this, I need to understand, or we’re done. His features have been tortured for days, an internal battle of what to do weighing all over them. It’s a crappy position for him to be in, but one that can’t be helped or changed. We haven’t been together in weeks. I haven’t felt him with me, close to me. We’ve both laid awake most nights, silently, next to each other.
Rome clears his throat beside me and I turn in time for him to speak.
“I don’t expect your forgiveness. I don’t even want it.” His hand rubs the back of his neck, a tell he’s always had. “Hell, I didn’t even want to move in here. I just…” He turns full to face me. “Rayleigh you have no idea how sorry I am. If I could take it all back, I would. I need you to know, I never would have actually harmed you in any way,” his voice is barely audible now, “not you.”
My eyes hit the ceiling as I begin to digest his words, unable to process it through the red haze clouding my brain. “Roman,” I s
tart. “You kidnapped me, and locked me in a basement.” He winces from my words, his skin paling. I bring my feet onto the chair and rest my head on my knees before mumbling, “I’ve never been so scared before in my life.” I lift my head and let out a long breath. “Why did you hate me so much? I mean, I thought we were friends. What the hell did I ever do to you?”
A look flashes over his face before she stomps it out and picks up his glass. He drains the vodka then reaches for the bottle. “You want?” He asks me, his head inclining at my glass.
I push it over for him and watch carefully as he refills it then hands it back to me.
“You didn’t do anything,” he replies finally. “I was just an angry kid who needed someone to blame for my best friend ditching me. I figured,” a tight smile forms on his lips, “and I know this is stupid, but I just figured that if I scared you enough, then you’d leave him.” He snorts. “Looking back now I can see that I was probably the reason he wanted out.” He quiet for a minute before speaking again. “I never hated you, never have and never could.”
“Well, that’s kinda fucked up,” I say dryly. “Don’t ask me to get over it, to move past it, because I can’t.” I sip at my vodka. “Trust me, I’ve tried.”
“I don’t want you to get over it. If you’re going to stay in this life,” he starts then pauses, his gaze landing on an invisible spot on the wall beside him before coming back to me. “If you’re going to stay here, then you need to be prepared. What I did to you is nothing compared to what they will do to you if you fuck up.” I all but feel my own eyes harden. Did he think I didn’t already know that? I’m not an idiot. He laughs sarcastically. “But judging from the gun you held at my head, I think you’ll be fine.”
I snort and take another sip of my drink as I watch him. His eyes lock on to mine and unlike most people, he doesn’t look away. It’s calming and unnerving all at once, too much for my already busy mind to comprehend.
“I hated you for about 3 years,” I say quietly, our gaze on each other still holding firm.
