by Ray, Lexie
“Oh,” Ben said, looking at me with newfound respect. “You brought a friend to play.”
Tyler looked at me and seemed to sag in relief. He looked more frightened then injured, and I could actually imagine him running for the front door to demand to be led to the basement. Now that he had ascertained that I was all right, it was back to his usual arrogant, surly self. He spit some of the blood that was running into his mouth on the concrete floor.
“Charming,” Ben said, his dead eyes glittering.
“You know you can’t let them live, Paxton.”
The voice came out of the darkness, but it was silky and dangerous. I knew the man who stepped out of the shadows was cartel without ever knowing his face. He swaggered with power, sure that his every step was protected.
“We’ll see, Ramirez,” Ben said. “They could have some entertaining possibilities.” His eyes lingered on me overlong, making me feel sick.
Tyler lunged forward suddenly, going for Ben, but the security guard knocked him back.
Ben laughed. “Easy, lover boy,” he said. “There’ll be enough to go around.”
“Kill them now,” the Ramirez urged. “Don’t leave any lose ends.”
“A little fun first,” Ben suggested, approaching me.
“Lay your hands on her and you’ll die,” Tyler promised.
“I had her when she was still a little girl from the ghetto,” Ben said, looking at Tyler and chuckling. “I haven’t had her since she became a woman. How about it? Is she any good?”
“Fuck you,” Tyler said, keeping his eyes on me. I was ready for anything. If he nodded at me, I would kick ass.
I was saved by the next commotion on the stairs.
“What in the hell are you all doing down—oh.”
Ben’s father stood at the base of the stairs, taking all of us in. I watched the idea that there was some serious shit going on down here dawn on him.
“We’ve had some intruders,” Ben said. “Enrique and I are about to get rid of them.”
“Get rid of them how?” Mr. Paxton asked dubiously.
“Get rid of them how do you think?” Ben shot back. “We’re going to kill them and dump their bodies in the river.”
“I think you’ve been spending too much time around our cartel friends,” Mr. Paxton said, eyeing the Ramirez with distaste.
“You would know,” Ben said. “You’re the one who sent me to Mexico when I was eighteen.”
“You needed a little vacation and to help us make some business connections,” Mr. Paxton said, “not to become a savage. I see what happened now. You were never the same.”
The time that Ben had disappeared and come back a different man. He’d been in Mexico, with the cartels. The idea made me gag.
“You wouldn’t believe the things I saw and took part in,” Ben said softly, and I shivered. This was the man who had been raising my child.
“Please,” I said. “All I want is Trevor. Tyler and I will go. That’s all we came for.”
“That’s not true,” Tyler said, his voice ringing out even if it was a little nasal from his bloody nose. “We were going to blackmail you.”
Who said anything about blackmail? I was confused, staring at Tyler.
“Blackmail?” Ben asked, laughing. “You? Blackmail us? We’re the Paxton’s, you ass. You don’t blackmail us.”
“We’ve been systematically gathering evidence over the past months,” Tyler said. “I have all of this evidence in a folder beneath my jacket.”
“Why?” Ben asked, squinting at him.
“Because that’s where it’s safest,” Tyler said. “With me at all times. You burned Shimmy’s apartment. I couldn’t have our evidence going up in flames.”
Mr. Paxton cut his eyes at Ben but didn’t say anything. It was becoming clear that the father didn’t have control over his son.
“Let’s see this evidence, if you really have it,” Mr. Paxton said.
I tensed. Was Tyler going to pull a gun out from beneath his jacket? I had to be ready for anything.
The fact that he actually had a folder beneath his jacket was more shocking than anything else he could’ve pulled out from under there. I hadn’t seen him get a folder or put it under his jacket. What was going on?
I had a terrible thought: Was Tyler playing me for a fool? What was all this blackmail nonsense?
I was shocked again to see that it was my folder and my evidence—the photos of my bruised arms, the note from the brick, and other pieces of information I’d gathered over these last few tense months. Added to it was intelligence that Tyler had gleaned—photos of men carrying boxes to and from the house, a photo of Ramirez, the cartel guy standing there in the basement with us, and even a few choice shots of the Paxton’s, going about their daily lives in the middle of a sophisticated drug ring.
“Is this everything?” Mr. Paxton demanded, leafing through the folder. “All of it?”
“No,” Tyler said. “Shimmy, give him the camera.”
My eyes widened. Nobody had known about the camera but Tyler and me. Why had he given it up? It still could’ve been our ace in the hole.
“Let’s have it,” Mr. Paxton said, snapping his fingers and walking over to me.
Grudgingly, I removed the camera from my pocket and handed it to Ben’s father, who turned it on. I heard my hissed whisper from the speakers as he played the video I’d taken.
“Nail in the coffin,” the recording crowed, and I hated myself. It was obvious that I couldn’t trust Tyler. He seemed to be playing a game that I didn’t know the rules to. And the Paxton’s? Forget about it. Ben had already threatened to kill me once before and that was before I knew about the drug smuggling portion of the family business.
I was done for. I’d tried and tried to do the right thing, risking everything to try to find the evidence necessary to get my son, but this was it. There was no way out, now.
Giving up. I thought I’d never see the day when I threw in the towel, but this was too much for me to deal. I felt strangely light, as if all of my goals and responsibilities and thinking about my son had been all that was keeping me on the ground.
Then, with a shattering jolt, I came back to myself.
“Ben?” The voice carried down from the top of the stairs. “Come say goodnight to your son.”
My insides twisted at the thought of the monster in front of me kissing my son goodnight. No. This wasn’t over. This couldn’t be over. I was a fucking grizzly bear mama and I could count a few people standing between me and my baby.
“Why don’t you bring Trevor down here?” Ben called up. “I’m a little busy.”
“You know I don’t like him around that shit,” Mrs. Paxton snapped. “Now get your ass up here.”
“Bring the kid down here now, bitch!” Ben roared, making all of us jump. The top of the stairs was silent for a long minute until we all heard soft footsteps.
“I don’t know why you were so insistent on us coming down here,” Mrs. Paxton said, carrying my son, before she looked up and realized what kind of mess she walked in to. Her eyes narrowed at me.
“Mom, you remember Shimmy, of course,” Ben said, holding his hand out at me.
“Trash,” she sneered.
“Mind your manners,” Tyler warned, spitting again, but I didn’t understand why he was trying. Didn’t we establish that he wasn’t on my side anymore? Wasn’t that alliance or dalliance or whatever it was over once he’d turned over the evidence?
“Hi, baby,” I said, holding my arms out and smiling at my son, refusing to let him see how terrified and desperate I was. “Hi, Trevor. Are you going night-night?”
He looked at me with my very own eyes and smiled sleepily, nodding. It squeezed my heart.
“What are they doing here?” Mrs. Paxton demanded.
“Blackmail, they said,” Mr. Paxton said, taking the memory card from the camera and then crushing the device underneath his heel.
“Really?” she scoffed.
> “They have a lot of evidence,” Mr. Paxton said, handing her the folder of all our painstaking research and horrifying experiences.
Mrs. Paxton set her jaw as she turned through the folder, her frown deepening with every page she turned.
“Out of curiosity,” she said, not looking up, “what were you intending on getting out of this? Money? Drugs? What?”
“This woman’s son,” Tyler said, and Trevor shifted in Mrs. Paxton’s arms to see who was talking.
“I don’t understand,” Mr. Paxton said. “You said this was blackmail.”
“Right,” Tyler said. “But circumstances shifted a little bit out of our control.”
“As an understatement,” Ben muttered.
“We were going to offer up the evidence we’d collected in exchange for Trevor,” Tyler said.
“Why?” Mrs. Paxton asked, clearly aghast that more precious things weren’t being demanded.
“Because he’s my baby,” I said, a tear slipping down my cheek. “Because I love him. Because everything I do is for him. Please, please give me my baby.”
“All of the evidence we’ve been gathering is here,” Tyler said. “We can end this right now. Let us leave with the baby, and you can have all proof of your various misdeeds.”
“You’re not seriously considering this,” Ramirez said. “These people know who we are and what we do. Who’s to say they’re not going to come back for another shakedown sometime in the future? The stakes will probably be higher next time than one little brat. I say we kill them all, and be done with it.”
Ben’s parents exchanged a horrified glance, but Ben simply accepted whatever plan Ramirez had. He was too far gone to be human.
I started to believe that the Paxton’s were in over their heads. They had probably agreed to transport drugs in exchange for some serious cash, but now the cartel was trying to assert its own values over the operation and how it was run.
“Nobody’s going to be killed here,” Mr. Paxton said. “And none of this evidence will ever see the light of day. I’m going to destroy it immediately.”
“And my son?” I asked, only vaguely aware of the tears that just wouldn’t stop falling.
“We’ll send him to you after you and your boyfriend leave town,” Mr. Paxton said.
Both Mrs. Paxton and me gave tortured gasps.
“Are you really thinking about sending Trevor away?” she demanded.
“Send him with us now,” I demanded.
“I want you all out of the country before you can change your mind about giving any of this information to the police,” Mr. Paxton said. “With both of their testimony, the police would have a reason to come snooping around here. You remember how badly it held up distribution when CPS came to investigate.”
“You’re preaching to the choir,” Ramirez said. “I hated that shit. But just waste these assholes and let’s get back to business. Eliminate the doubt.”
“No,” Mr. Paxton said, his voice strong. “This is a family company and we won’t have blood on our hands.”
“So if we leave, you promise to send us the baby,” Tyler said slowly.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Please. Let us take him with us. Please. You’ll never hear from us again, I swear it. I swear it.”
“Then we’d have no guarantee that you’d hold up to your end of the bargain if I didn’t have my bargaining chip,” Mr. Paxton said.
“I can’t leave him again,” I sobbed. “I won’t.”
Trevor began to bawl, big tears rolling down his chubby little cheeks. I wanted to wrap him up in my arms and take him far away from this place. Why wouldn’t anyone let me?
“We’ll go,” Tyler said. “We’ll send word to you whenever we reach our destination.”
I was crying too hard to see him walk over and take my hand.
“If you’re not gone in an hour, the cartel will handle you,” Ramirez sneered.
“We said no killing,” Mr. Paxton protested.
“This isn’t a Paxton affair,” Ramirez said. “This is cartel business.”
“We’re leaving,” Tyler said quickly, putting an arm around my shoulder. “You’ll hear from us soon.”
Trevor’s wails followed us up the stairs as the security guard hustled us along. I could see to walk. I’d lost my baby again. I knew it. I knew it. I shouldn’t have left him. I should’ve fought or tried to do something. Why was I so weak? What was wrong with me? Where was fucking grizzly bear mama I thought I was?
Somehow, we were back at the car. I had no memory of the blocks we’d had to have traversed to get there. I sat in the passenger seat, weeping, and Tyler jumped into the driver’s seat, checking his mirrors again and again.
“We have to hurry,” he said, starting the car and peeling out of the parking spot. “Everything’s going to be okay, Shimmy.”
Nothing was okay. My baby was still in that terrible house and I was running away. I would rather face the cartel’s bullets than do this to Trevor. I began to cry even harder, slapping my forehead with the heel of my hand.
“Calm down,” Tyler chanted. “Calm down, calm down, everything’s going to be fine.”
I ripped off my seatbelt, and it was only Tyler’s strong arm that kept me from flinging myself out of his racing car.
“Shimmy, listen to me,” he said. “Everything’s going to be fine.”
“If I’m not holding my son in my arms, nothing’s fine,” I said. “Turn around. Turn this fucking car around.”
“Baby, please listen,” Tyler said. “We didn’t have a choice. We have to leave now. The Paxton’s will send Trevor. They gave their word.”
“Their word isn’t worth shit,” I raged. “They kept me from him for four years. It’ll be another forty until I see him again. Go back. Go back, Tyler, please.”
“We can’t, baby,” Tyler said. “The cartel is there. They’ll kill us on sight. We only have an hour to get out of the city. Only an hour. We have to go now. Please don’t worry. I have a plan. Listen to me, Shimmy. I have a plan.”
“I don’t give a fuck who’s there,” I said, single-minded in my determination. “My son’s there. Go back.”
I fought him hard, making him swerve the car a little. Other drivers honked at us, but I didn’t care. The only thing I cared about was back in that house. My son. We’d left him. We’d left him to preserve our own lives.
“I can’t,” I sobbed. “Take me back. I’d rather be dead.”
“Listen to me,” Tyler repeated, but I was beyond listening. “I have a plan, Shimmy. I have a plan.”
I fought him, and the car swerved again. I was blind with rage, sobbing, my tears threatening to strangle me.
“Calm down, Shimmy.”
I couldn’t. I couldn’t even if I wanted to, and all I wanted to do was scream and scream and scream.
“I’m sorry about this,” Tyler said, his voice full of sadness. “I’m so sorry.”
There was pressure on my neck and I slipped into blissful nothingness.
Epilogue
It was hard to be miserable in such nice weather.
I wished that out of town could’ve been some dreary, foggy, nasty place, or some featureless desert.
Blank. That’s how I wanted to feel. Blank.
Instead, the crashing waves against the sugar-white sands of the beach filled me with an aching longing.
I would rather be anywhere than here—Indonesia, of all places. More specifically, I would rather be in New York City, waging war against the Paxton’s.
Even more specifically, I would rather be fighting for my son.
Tyler kept his distance. That was for the best. He’d tried to approach me after I woke up in the hotel room, tried to explain, but I’d slapped him on the face. I saw him constantly, and he was always there, but he lingered hundreds of yards away.
How had everything gone so wrong? I’d been so confident going into the Paxton’s basement, so sure of what I needed to do. Then, Tyler had thrown
away all of our evidence, everything, and swallowed the word of criminals in order to save me. That wasn’t the way it was supposed to go. We were supposed to go in there, guns blazing, save my son, and take down the Paxton’s while we were at it. That was the plan, but we’d never seen it to fruition.
I blamed Tyler a lot, but I blamed myself. I should’ve done other things. I should’ve tried harder with the courts. I should’ve gone in there by myself and simply walked out with Trevor. Each scenario seemed more preposterous than the next, but I had to believe that there could’ve been something that I could’ve done.
I couldn’t imagine spending the rest of my life in this prison of a paradise without any hope of seeing my son again, but that’s what I was faced with.
I watched the waves crash against the shore over and over again, realizing that they were like my grief—never ending.
Then, one morning, Tyler kissed me awake. It had been a long time since we’d made love—back in New York had been the last time—and I melted into his embrace. It felt so right, so comforting, until I woke up fully and remembered that this man had failed to help me get my child when the opportunity had been its most ripe.
I tried to recoil, but he wouldn’t let me.
“Enough of this, Shimmy,” he said, frowning. “You’ve had enough time to wallow.”
Wallow? I almost spat at him.
“Listen to me,” he urged. “I had a plan. The plan is working.”
The only plan he should’ve had was to get my son to safety. I wasn’t interested.
Tyler was visibly frustrated. Good. That’s how I felt.
“If you won’t listen to me, you’ll just have to be surprised. We have a plane to meet in about an hour. Get ready.”
“What plane?”
I found my voice, and it was raspy. I hadn’t spoken in weeks—however long we’d been here. I’d been too devastated, too angry.
“It’s all a part of the plan,” Tyler said lightly. “You’d know if you listened. Too bad. It’ll be a surprise, then.”
I ground my teeth and got ready. He was trying to provoke me, trying to draw me out of the shell I’d crawled into. Let him try. I wouldn’t rise to the bait.
