by C. S. Won
Jae remained quiet, his silence an indicator for her to continue.
“Adam fell into a depression afterwards, as did I,” Andrea went on. “My father did what he could to keep it together, but the circumstances of having to deal with two depressed children were too much for him to handle. He was simply not ready for it. So in an effort to cope, he turned to the poisonous comforts of the bottle, drowning in the sweet escape that it provided, except that escape only amplified his misery, and soon thereafter his misery turned into blind rage, and he quickly lost it—just completely and utterly lost it. Our days and nights were filled with him throwing Adam under the bus, blaming him for what had happened to our mother. Adam was obviously confused and horrified, because the one person he had counted on to help him get through this had essentially betrayed him.” Andrea took another pause, breathing in as her lips trembled. “Then the beatings started. A day didn’t go by when Adam wasn’t covered in bruises from thigh to back. He was my dad’s punching bag, his living reminder of what he had lost and what he had to deal with. But my brother never did anything to defend himself. He simply let it happen, maybe because he felt he deserved it, or maybe because he hated himself. But whatever the reason, he let our father’s rage soften his body.”
More tears fell. Andrea paused to wipe them away. Jae stood and went over to a cupboard, reaching inside it to take out a box of tissues. He handed her the box, and she thanked him, taking out a couple to dab away what had fallen.
“This went on for years,” Andrea continued. “My dad told Adam that he would never amount to anything, that he was a failure and a mistake, that it was his fault and his fault alone as to why his mother died, and I think it was those words, more than the beatings he administered, that caused Adam to spiral further into darkness, because words can cut deep and leave behind unseen scars. Adam became more withdrawn and began to mirror my father’s rage. The sweet kid I knew no longer existed. He died alongside my mother, and from the ruins emerged a boy who reeked of animosity, molded by my father’s grieving hands.” She took out another tissue and dabbed at her eyes. “I tried to protect him, but I was younger and weaker and could do very little, and my dad would hit me too if I ever tried to intervene. When that happened, Adam would step in and shield me, sparing me from the worst of it, and my dad was all too glad to redirect his fury towards him.”
The recollection had left Andrea’s face glowing red, and she struggled to keep the snot leaking out of her nose.
“My brother immediately moved out when he turned eighteen, and my father and I moved to Florida to live with his folks. A few years later, my father’s smoking and drinking habit caught up with him, and he grew deathly ill and bedridden. In a moment that I can only describe as regret, he expressed a desire to see his estranged son again at least one last time. I relayed the message to Adam, but the only thing he said to me was that he hoped that Stan—our dad—dies painfully. That was the last time I spoke to Adam.”
A sad story. There was no denying it. The way she described it, it sounded like hell. But even though the story fulfilled what it originally set out to do—to add context to Adam’s behavior, maybe even his motives—it still did not justify what he had done. Nothing could.
“I’m sorry for what happened. Nobody should have to go through that, but . . .” Jae paused, considering his next words. “It does not change what Adam did. If you are asking me to forgive your brother, then I’m sorry, but I won’t. I can’t. Not now. Not ever. With his hands alone, he took too much away from me. It would be a betrayal if I even entertained the thought of forgiveness.”
“I know, and I’m not asking you to. As I said before, I only wanted to help you make sense of why things happened the way they regrettably did,” Andrea said.
Jae nodded and said nothing.
“But even after everything Adam has done, I still couldn’t bring myself to truly hate him,” Andrea said. “He was family, and even with all his flaws I still loved him, and it was that misguided love that drove me to try to hurt you. I was compelled by a need to avenge a brother that, in hindsight, probably didn’t deserve my compassion.” She turned to Jae. “So please, allow me to apologize to you, personally, for what I did. I went in with no real understanding of what I was about to do, and I nearly made a fatal mistake because of it.”
With a slump of his shoulders, Jae waved it away. “I bear no ill feelings towards you. You only did what you thought you had to do. I hold no grudge.”
She nodded at that and went silent, leaning forward in her seat, her hands gripped tight around the tissues stained with tears. Her body shook, likely from trying to settle her emotions, and she drew herself in, trying to further subdue it. Jae scooted closer, and after a brief moment, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, patting her in a show of reassurance and comfort. He had no conscious thought in what he did; it just simply happened, and he wasn’t sure why. This woman had tried to kill him, and yet here he was, trying to comfort her in her moment of weakness, as if she was a friend in need. Life truly worked in strange ways. Perhaps the sight of a woman in pain had bypassed all rational thought and kicked in his instinctive drive to comfort and protect. Whatever the reason, it was already too late to stop, and for a split second he wasn’t sure if she would recoil away from him and attack. But she made no effort to resist. Instead, she drew herself closer to him.
They stayed like this for a time. When Jae looked up, he realized the morning had already drifted away, bringing with it clouds from the north. The wind took on a chillier pitch, and the sun’s light waned and dulled, adopting a grayish tone. On the horizon, a storm’s promise.
“I should get going,” Andrea said.
Jae voiced his agreement. They sat together for a few moments longer until she finally stood, and picked up her purse from the ground. Jae stood with her.
“I appreciate you taking the time to listen to me, especially after what happened the other day. Not many would have given me a second chance. You’re a good man,” Andrea said.
Jae closed his eyes and nodded.
She cleared her throat. “Do you, by any chance, have plans for this weekend?”
That surprised him. “Why do you ask?”
“Atlanta has changed a lot since I was a kid, and I don’t recognize any of it. I’m a little overwhelmed by it all. I’m not even sure where to begin exploring. So I was wondering, maybe, if you could show me around for a bit.”
“You don’t have anyone who can show you around?”
“I’m rooming with a friend but she’s too busy with work all the time, so she hasn’t had a chance to take me anywhere except for a couple of restaurants.”
“Well, I can direct you to an agency if you need a tour guide. I’m sure I can find a good one for you.”
She chuckled. A welcome change from the somber mood earlier. “I don’t want to be shuffled around dull tourist traps.”
“How would it be any different with me?”
“Because you know all the fun little secrets this city has to offer.”
Jae drew his lips in and sighed through his nose. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think that would be a good idea. Nothing against you, Andrea, it’s just with everything that’s been happening . . .” He searched for the right way to end this. “The timing doesn’t feel right.”
Andrea quickly nodded. “No, of course. You’re right. You’re absolutely right. I’m sure you’ve been very busy. I should have known that. I’m so sorry.” She clutched her purse with both hands, fidgeting with it. “I’ll get going then.” She turned to leave, but then paused to look over her shoulder. “But I hope we can meet again someday, under different circumstances.”
She made her way through the garage doors hastily, striding over to her car parked at the far end of the driveway. While Jae held no ill will towards her, he thought it’d be best if he kept a safe distance from her. Despite being of a seemingly different temperament from her brother, Jae knew little about her, and the lasting image he ha
d of her—brimming with electricity, with her eyes glowing blue, her nose flared, teeth bared, hair wild, ready to strike him down—did her no favors. That image alone had caused him to wake up with a cold sweat in the middle of the night. He did appreciate the sheer guts that it took for her to come forward to apologize and admit her mistakes, and he recognized that was a great first step towards reconciliation, but he needed more before he was willing to close the distance.
Gabe came up behind Jae and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I saw that, you little scoundrel you.”
“Saw what?” Jae asked.
“Snuggling up to her like that. You turned on the charm, and in came the smiles. You smooth sonofabitch you.”
“It’s not what you think. She was in distress, so I wanted to comfort her. I was only being nice.”
“Only being scandalous, you mean. Adam’s sister? Man, that is so indecent, and I love it. The balls on you! And she even tried to kill you too! I guess you’re quick to forgive if they’re hot as hell. And can’t say I blame you either, brother. Andrea is a smoke show. She can electrocute me anytime!” Gabe whistled. “I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that she came from the same genetic stock as Adam. That asshole was uglier than my morning bathroom runs. Andrea must have hogged all the good genes in their family.”
“She seems like a good person. Very different from Adam. Complete opposites, in fact. I mean, of course, initial murder attempt aside.”
“So, she’s a saint, too? It keeps getting better and better. You sure she wasn’t adopted?”
A black limousine, sleek, shiny, and long, pulled into the driveway. Following close behind were two luxury black sedans with tinted windows, and they parked near the grass so as to not block the fire trucks from their path.
“Woah, who’s this? You expecting more company?” Gabe asked.
“No,” Jae said, just as confused.
“Then who the hell is this?”
A man in a dark suit exited the first sedan, then another, then one more. From the other vehicle, four more stepped out, each one identical to the last, well-built sentinels in suits, their eyes hidden behind sunglasses. Another man in a dark suit exited, this time from the limousine, and he paused to look at Andrea as she entered her car and drove away. This one began to make his way to Jae, his black dress shoes making sharp music on the gravel. He pulled on the lapel of his jacket, tightening it, and extended his hand out once the distance between them had narrowed.
“Mr. Yeon?” the man asked. His hair was slicked back to show numerous faint scars that blemished his face. Like the clones behind him, he was also a well-built individual, his presence strong and his posture confident.
Jae looked at the hand, then finally took it, shaking it gently. “And you are?”
“I act as a representative on behalf of Morgan Duffy. My name is Donnelly Stone.”
Jae pulled back in surprise. “Morgan Duffy? Did I hear that right?”
“Yes, and Mr. Duffy has expressed a desire to meet with you.”
Jae exchanged glances with Gabe. “Why?”
“Because you’re a hero, my boy.” An older man, dressed in a pinstripe suit, with silver hair and matching beard, stepped out of the limousine. Three others followed him out, two men and one woman, all dressed in matching combat attire of black tops, black pants, and black boots. The first man to step out towered over everyone else in the vicinity, his scalp and jaw covered in a light fuzz of hair, and scars running up the length of his arms in cross-bone patterns. The second man was comparatively smaller and leaner, almost a quarter of the first man’s size, his eyes sunk in with dark circles, his chin strapped with a goatee, and his obsidian hair slicked back from his face. The woman accompanying them was svelte but toned, with distinguished, swirling tattoos coating up and down her arms, and her hair snipped scalp short and dyed a winter white.
Two agents moved to attend to the emerging party, but the pinstriped suited man shooed them away, and they obliged with practiced obedience. The suited man made his way over to Jae and took his hand in both of his as if he was greeting an old friend, patting it gently with fatherly care. “And this world needs heroes.”
Morgan Duffy beamed at Jae with a big smile.
Chapter Nine
The room was his, and he didn’t even have to ask for it.
Every available firefighter had gathered for this momentous occasion, forming a circle around the mogul, and blocking out his bodyguards who stood far back behind. No one bothered to ask why this billionaire from up north was in their station. They gawked like lovestruck fools, too charmed to ask the important questions, their eyes glittering with admiration at the kingpin that stood before them. Only Jae, Gabe, and a couple others stood to the wayside, suspicious, cautious, and distrustful.
“My grandfather was a firefighter, as was his father.” Morgan Duffy said. His voice had an effortless but authoritative and commanding tone. “My great grandfather served for life, and my grandfather served for twenty years before deciding he wanted to try his hand at the dishonesty of politics.” For whatever reason, that garnered laughs from the audience. “They were the finest men, the best this country had to offer, and as I look at each and every one of you, I see their same caliber of spirit residing in all of you. You are the bearers of magnificent legacies. There is no greater honor than serving and protecting your community.” He paused, appearing to get choked up by the sentiment he drudged up.
“I heard you were thinking about running for president next year. Is that true?” one of the firefighters asked, his voice tinged with hope.
“That’s still up in the air. But even if I was, the timing isn’t right for an announcement. I want the country to heal first before I even consider announcing my intentions. The last thing any of us needs is a spotlight shining on my own selfish desires.”
“You would make a great president,” the chief said.
“Would I? I have to disagree. I’ve donated much of my fortune to various philanthropic and humanitarian endeavors over the years, and things have yet to improve. Far too much ails this country, and if my wealth failed to make any sort of notable difference, then what could I realistically do as president?”
“You’re doing God’s work, sir. We need more people like you, true patriots. Hardworking folks like us know you’re trying your best,” the chief said. Smiling like sycophants, many of the firefighters nodded vigorously along, all too eager to show their agreement. Who knew influence came so cheap?
Morgan thanked the chief for his kind words. Jae wondered if the chief, or anybody else in the room for that matter, could list any of the supposed things Morgan did to try to improve the country. Could they name even one? Jae doubted it. He knew he couldn’t. But did it matter? The trap had already been set, and now Morgan’s enraptured audience hung on to each and every word as if they were coated with honey. They were his newest followers now, fresh acolytes to spread the good word. Morgan had an obvious talent in appealing to people, the type of man who always had a knack for saying the right thing at just the right time. His charm alone was enough to pull people towards him like a gravitational force.
But Jae knew better. Morgan was a man who wanted to brand people like him as some sort of hazardous freak, a flight risk that needed to be monitored by the careful eye of big brother. So incendiary was his rhetoric that Jae was convinced that Morgan wanted nothing more than to round them up, gun them down in a darkened alleyway, then bury them in an unmarked grave somewhere.
“Why are you here?” Jae asked. A good question to ask, he thought, especially when it concerned a man of Morgan’s stature suddenly appearing at their station, but Chief Flores gave him a stunned look, as if he had committed some heinous sin. But the mogul was a lot more measured in his response, moving away from the chief and laying a gentle hand on Jae’s shoulder.
“Because I wanted to meet you, and I wanted to have the honor of shaking the hand of a true hero.” And Morgan accomplished just that, takin
g Jae’s hand into his once more and giving it a vigorous shake.
“Don’t insult my intelligence. A carpetbagger from the north doesn’t just walk into a fire station in Atlanta for a simple meet and greet. Why are you really here?”
Jae’s belligerence failed to crack the mogul’s well-polished exterior, but it was enough to dent the chief’s.
“Jae, what the hell has gotten into you? This is our guest!” the chief said.
“It’s quite alright.” Morgan turned to the chief. “If you don’t mind, I’d like a minute alone with this young man.”
The chief look shocked, but quickly reversed his expression. “Absolutely, yes you sure can! You can use my office!”
“I prefer it here. The breeze is nice, as is the view.”
“Of course, anywhere you like. It’s all yours!” The chief quickly gathered everyone and ushered them towards the back, giving the entirety of the garage to Jae, Morgan, and his bodyguards.
Morgan walked over to the same spot where Jae and Andrea had talked, the benches closest to the garage doors. Jae followed him, took his seat, and motioned for Morgan to do the same, but he seemed to refuse the offer, opting to pace around the garage with his hands clenched behind his back.
“Why are you here?” Jae asked again.
