Fury

by Cat Porter

  “No point? Being close to you, having that again, having you, then being sideswiped by your news of getting married. I found you, came to you so full of hope. Worst day.”

  “Worst day,” she whispered hoarsely.

  “I left you and tried not to look back,” I said. “Tried real hard.”

  Her eyes gleamed. “You left, and then I followed your trail of blood all these years.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” I wiped the sweat and water from my eyes with a blood-smeared hand. “You got on with your life. You got married, had a kid!”

  She only drew her robe tighter around her body.

  “What does that mean?” I yelled.

  She raised her hands. Surrender. Limit reached. “Go.”

  “I don’t want to go!”

  “There’s nothing here but sadness. Now go!” Her hand went to her cut arm.

  “Baby, I don’t want to be sad, and I don’t want you to be.” I rubbed my hands down my face, my head spinning.

  We stood there in the silence, amidst our wreckage.

  “I’m going to clean us up.” She left the room and came back with a box of sterile bandages and a small tube of antibiotic cream. She applied the cream on herself as I tore open a bandage. I wrapped it around her arm, then taped it. She applied the cream on my cut.

  “I’m not leaving this time,” I said. “I made that mistake once, twice. I should have fought for you, for us. This time, I’m going to do whatever it takes to hang onto you.”

  She taped the bandage on my arm without a word.

  I flexed my hands. “My missing fingers and that phantom pain that comes and goes, have been a reminder all these years not only of that hell, but of you and me. Hell and heaven. Beautiful and horrible. We found each other first in the dark and then in the light and in all the shadows in between. No matter how I tried convincing myself that I should forget, the scars never allowed it.”

  She put the cap back on the tube of cream. “Go.” Her voice was weary.

  Weary like my soul.

  I didn’t want to fight with her, I only wanted her to see it like I did. From that moment on her bed, touching her, feeling her respond underneath my hands, my mouth, smelling her, listening to her sounds, tasting her. Through my hand I’d felt my own heartbeat joining hers, and for the first time in so, so long, I felt whole. I knew she felt it too. I knew she did, but she was scared.

  My chest knotted. “Beautiful and horrible and beautiful again. That’s us, baby.”

  “GO!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, her eyes wild. She launched away from me like an animal just freed from a trap. Slam went a drawer. She pivoted.

  I froze.

  A gun aimed at me. “Go.”

  I could command men to do my bidding with a look, a pitch in my voice, any number of almost unnoticeable gestures. But Lenore in pain? My body felt heavy, weighted down. My limbs locked.

  I stood still under the watch of that Ruger. “What are you so afraid of, baby? After everything you’ve been through, you’re operating on fear now? With me?”

  “Fear brought me here, baby, safe and sound,” she said, steadying the weapon in both hands. “I saw Tania’s scar. That shouldn’t have happened. Years ago, I stayed away from her and you to protect us all. And now we’re here, together again and this happens. It shouldn’t have happened. It was wrong. So wrong. Why should Tania suffer? Why?”

  “No more suffering. That shit’s done.”

  “Right.” Her voice was laced with bitterness, irony.

  “Lenore—”

  “Go!” A plea. Desperate and despairing.

  I pulled my hair back from my face. “All right, I’ll go.”

  I got my clothes on and left. I started up my bike and glanced back at the open doorway. She still held the gun.

  I left but I wasn’t going to leave things like that. No. Something was wrong. Something had cracked wide open inside her, and she was desperate for me not to see and for her not to feel it.

  I needed help.

  I’d talked with Tania earlier that day, and she’d mentioned that tonight she would be going out with the One-Eyed Jacks for drinks over at Dead Ringer’s Roadhouse.

  I headed straight there and interrupted her and Butler getting it on in a back room. I didn’t give a fuck, but he sure did. All the Jacks and their women shot me cold glares, but Tania was impervious to their protective shield. She strode straight through it and left with me, no hesitation.

  “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” She blinked up at me, wiping her mussed hair from her pink face, taking in a gulp of the warm humid night air in the parking lot. “What’s going on?”

  “Lenore’s flipping out,” I said. “She needs you. I made things worse. You need to talk to her, calm her down. Get through to her. Something’s wrong. Something she doesn’t want to talk about with me. But I think it’s got everything to do with me.”

  “I’ve got my car here.” Tania gestured at a blue GMC Yukon. “But I’ve had a few margaritas too many.”

  “Give me your keys.”

  She did, and I handed them over to Slade who’d come over to us. “Take her car and get it to Meager. I’ll call you with the address.”

  “You got it.” He got into Tania’s Yukon and started her up.

  “We’ll take my bike. We’ll get there quicker. I’ll get you coffee.”

  “All righty.”

  On the road, I got us both caffeine, and we blew towards Meager, back to Lenore.

  Less than an hour and a half later, I cut the engine in front of Lenore’s small clapboard house. Tania got off my bike.

  I grabbed her arm. “Hey. Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet.”

  She climbed up the small staircase of Lenore’s house and knocked. “Lenore? Lenore, it’s Tania. Open up, honey. Please. Lenore?”

  The door opened a crack. Lenore glared at me through the darkness.

  “Finger asked me to come see you,” said Tania. “He’s worried about you, and I want to make sure that you’re okay. I need to make sure. Please. Just me. We’ll stay up all night and drink and eat bad shit, like we used to.”

  Lenore’s fierce eyes stayed on me.

  “Lenore?” Tania moved closer to the front door.

  “I don’t eat bad shit anymore,” Lenore replied.

  “Okay, well, organic, sugar-free, gluten-free, whatever the hell you want—”

  Lenore shook her head. “Stop.”

  “Come on honey, it’s me,” said Tania. “This is between us. I won’t—”

  “Go away. Both of you. Just leave me alone.”

  I got off my bike and stormed across her lawn. “Not leaving you alone!”

  Tania shot me a glare, raising a hand. “Hey—”

  “I’m not going anywhere until I know you two are talking and she’s calmed down!” I said.

  “Well, that’s not going to happen unless you back the fuck off,” Tania replied.

  “I ain’t backing off. Not ever.”

  “You need to calm down,” Tania said to me.

  I got in her face. “Don’t tell me what I need to do.”

  “I wouldn’t dare.” Tania raised her voice.

  “Stop it!” Lenore’s searing gaze came back to me. “I put the gun away, so you don’t have to worry I’m going to do something stupid. I wouldn’t do that to my son.”

  “Gun? What gun?” Tania exploded. “What the hell is going on?”

  “You think I would’ve dragged you here if it wasn’t important?” I said.

  “Go home. Both of you,” said Lenore.

  Tania moved toward her again. “Lenore, please, talk to me—”

  “I don’t want to talk! I don’t!” Lenore shut the door, and the firm slide and click of two bolts res
ounded in the still night, flying bugs swirling in the glow of the porch light over Tania.

  A haze of rain began. Tania descended the stairs and came to me. “Well, that went well. She pulled a gun on you?”

  “I was mad, she was upset.”

  Tania tugged up the hood of her light jacket over her head. “Did we just make it worse?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’ll check in on her later.” She glanced at her watch. “I should get going.”

  “I’ll take you home.”

  “No.” She let out an exhale. “I have to go to Butler’s.”

  “You got it bad, huh?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So does he,” I said.

  “Well, I have explaining to do. And I have to do it tonight. Me leaving Dead Ringer’s with you the way we did…”

  “I hope it works it out for you and him,” I said. “If that’s what you really want. I hope—”

  “God, don’t you dare tell me to be happy. The last time you said that to me, things didn’t end up too great.”

  “No, I’m not going to tell you that,” I said.

  “We should say, ‘Be conscious,’ ‘Be aware.’ ‘Be mindful,’ and definitely, ‘Be good to yourself.”

  “I say, you fucking do what you want, but give it your best. Whatever you do, don’t hold back. Lay it out there. All of it.”

  “That works for me. That I like.”

  Slade pulled up in Tania’s car, a prospect behind him on a bike.

  “You good to drive?” I asked.

  “I’m fine. Butler’s only a couple streets over.” Tania leaned a hand on my shoulder and lifted up on her toes and kissed my cheek. “You take care of yourself.”

  “Yeah.” I got on my bike. “Fuck you.”

  She let out a dry laugh that I drowned out with the roar of my throttle.

  Slade and his prospect headed back to Dead Ringer’s. I got the hell out of Meager and focused on the road home to Nebraska.

  My body conformed to the vibrations and movements of my bike over the smooth highway. The familiar road signs with their arrows, route numbers, exit numbers shone starkly in the bright white lamps.

  Numbers.

  The numbers over Lenore’s body flashed before my eyes. A series of numbers was inked under each compass.

  “Nebraska...the good life” said the sign whipping past me as I crossed the border.

  Seventeen minutes later, I passed the signpost for Elk with its small population tallied at the bottom.

  My back stiffened, my heels pressed down.

  Those weren’t any random numbers on her body. They were the coordinates for my clubhouse here in Nebraska.

  Why would Lenore have my club, my home base tattooed on her body all these years?

  Her rough voice from earlier answered me, “Trail of blood.”

  60

  I didn’t want to wake up, but I did.

  I didn’t want to remember the feel of Finger’s warm hands rubbing fragrant oils into my naked body under that harsh, possessive gaze of his that was like taking bullets to the chest, but I did.

  I didn’t want to feel fiercely aroused by that erotic memory, but I did.

  I didn’t want to use my vibrator pretending it was him pulsing inside me, but I did.

  I didn’t want to cry after coming, but I did.

  I stayed in bed the whole day, and into the night.

  The next morning I woke up at four thirty.

  Time to deal.

  I’ve always dealt, why should this be any different?

  But it was different. The prospect of me and Finger together again loomed over me like the shadow of a two hundred story skyscraper. Stunning, breathtaking.

  Ominous.

  And he’d been right. I did like telling the men in my bed what to do. That had become my thing, my necessary thing after I’d left Finger and Chicago behind me. I liked the control. It was stabilizing, exciting. I kept my head above water that way. I’d never felt that need with Finger. With him sex had always been a kind of wild freedom, a raw intimacy, an intense passion. Giving in to him just that little bit the other night, submitting to his fiery attention, his extraordinary care was—

  I ripped the sheets off my bed and shoved them in the washing machine, took a shower, downed a greens drink, got dressed, and went to my store. I put everything out of my head and only concentrated on putting the finishing touches on the surprise I’d been making for Tania. I’d planned on giving it to her this week, but after the other night, after shutting her out, yelling at her, would she even speak to me?

  I detested confrontations, especially with people I cared about. But emotions and denial made things muddy and ugly. Tania had always been there for me, always pitching in, offering solutions, a don’t-worry-we-got-this hug. And now she was in the middle of my and Finger’s tangle in more ways than one.

  I had to make this right.

  Once Mimi, my new assistant, showed up for work at the store, I went down the block to the Meager Grand and ordered a super large extra deluxe iced coffee that I knew Tania would enjoy. I headed back up the block to Tania’s art gallery/antiques shop, the Rusted Heart. She’d opened up a couple of months ago, making her long time dream a reality, and right here in her home town.

  I pushed open the front door of the Rusted Heart, a bell jangling overhead, and strode to the handmade wood slab front desk where she sat, glaring at her computer screen behind a pair of reading glasses. I set the Meager Grand cup on the desk and her eyes widened, tracking up the large iced coffee with a dollop of whipped cream. Good coffee was serious business.

  She removed her glasses. “That looks insanely yummy.”

  “That’s cold-brewed.”

  “Bless you, my child.” She grabbed the coffee and took a greedy sip from the tall straw, groaning. She gestured to the rattan armchair next to her. “Sit.”

  I sat down, my muscles relaxing one by one. “I’m so sorry about the other night at my house.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. Better. I’m sorry I lost it. You came over because you care, because you were concerned. And I was a mess. I’ve been a burden to you. For years now.”

  “No, you haven’t, Lenore.” She eyed me. “Things are complicated. I get that. But maybe you could give an inch.”

  I traced over the fresh scab on my arm. “Finger was really angry.”

  “Being upset was at the heart of his anger. He’s trying, Lenore. He’s reaching out.”

  “He hates me.”

  Maybe he didn’t, but he just might one day soon. Hiding behind denial was easier than having to chop its thick vines into little bits and burn the pieces, inhaling its bitter smoke, exposing the naked truth. Not easier, no. I’d just gotten used to it.

  Finger hating me had always been a painful idea, but now it was no longer an idea, a “one day maybe” theory, but an imminent reality staring at me in the face with dark eyes that pierced my soul, their molten power melting everything inside me down to its essence. And that essence was us; if I was going to move forward with him, I’d have to be totally honest and fearless in that honesty.

  “He doesn’t hate you. He can’t,” Tania said. “I hate all these bad feelings flying between all of us.”

  He’d given her a hard time too, and she didn’t deserve any of it. “That’s my fault.”

  “I’m not trying to lay blame here.” She put her coffee down and took in a breath. “I’m tired. I was up late last night with my mother.”

  “Is she okay?”

  Tania explained how her mother hadn’t been dealing very well with her MS this week. Two steps forward, one step back, over and over again.

  “I’m so sorry your family’s going through this. I have something that can cheer you up.”

 
Tania shook the almost empty coffee cup, the ice rattling within. “Vanilla vodka over ice?”

  I let out a laugh, and that cramping in the pit of my stomach finally released its evil pinch. “No, no. Too early for that. This is way better. I’ll be right back.”

  I went to my store, and placed her gift in a small shopping bag, and went back to her gallery. I handed her the bag, a grin on my face. I knew she wasn’t able to spend much time or money on herself with setting up her business and caring for her mother. She’d had a crush on Butler for a long time and now Butler was free, and her divorce was being finalized. If I could offer her a moment’s pleasure, I damn well would. That I could do. Erase her stress for just a little while. To wipe away the smudges, dirt, and blurriness like efficient windshield wipers.

  My grandmother had the right idea. The gift of hand-made pretty was like no other, and that’s why I’d named my business for what she’d given me.

  Tania’s eyes widened at the sight of the purple Lenore’s Lace bag. I drew out the piece I’d designed for her.

  “Holy—”

  “I know.”

  She stared at the dark red corset hanging from my hands. Tania speechless? The mark of success.

  Her fingertips slid over the textures of silk bands and lace. “It’s gorgeous. It’s—”

  “I made it for you. I’m almost finished with it. One piece. One size. Yours. Try it on.”

  Her eyes darted to mine. “Lenore—”

  “Ah, Tania, trust me. I know these things. With your skin and hair...”

  All she needed was encouragement, a last push up the mountain’s peak to see the Promised Land beyond. The air got thin up there, you needed support. I knew the signs, and I knew how to encourage. But I wasn’t only offering a dream here. Reality’s beauty was reaching out to Tania. Her very own beauty.

  She took in a deep breath, her gaze magnetized on the corset. She was envisioning herself in it. My pale skinned, black haired, dark eyed Cinderella and her scarlet ballgown. I made one hell of a fairy godmother. My heart swelled. If I could be Tania’s fairy godmother, just this once.