Anything For Us

by Lola StVil

“Kenz, what’s wrong? I told you I’m okay.”

  “It’s not that,” she says as she pulls away from my hold.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “This is the second time I left you and something bad happened. I’m a horrible fucking friend.”

  “No, you’re not!”

  “Yes, I am. Think about it: this is the second time that I have left you to satisfy my lust life. And both times you got hurt.”

  “It’s just a coincidence.”

  “Nope, I think I’m cursed. And in order to make sure you stay safe, I have to stay with you at all times,” she says solemnly. I know from experience that when Kenzy gets going like this and comes up with crazy theories about why things happen, it’s best not to fight her on it. So, instead, I play along and hope to trick her back to her senses. I signal for her to join me in the kitchen as I make the tea. She pours herself a drink.

  “You know, Kenz, I think you’re right. I mean both times you went off with a guy, and I got hurt.”

  “Exactly. You see my point, right?”

  “Yeah, I do. That means that you will have to give up men. I don’t see any way around it.”

  “You think?”

  I suppress a laugh and try to keep going. “Kenz, it’s obvious that if you are on a date, or with a guy in any way, the universe has cursed you by hurting me. So, the best thing to do is to go to Costco, buy an industrial-size shipment of various can soups, get some cats, and sign yourself up for needlepoint classes. That way you can start on your life without men or male contact of any kind.”

  “You think the universe would be that cruel?” she says, lost in thought.

  “Snap out of it, you weirdo!” I reply as I playfully shake her. She looks into my eyes and sees that I am only kidding. She scowls and sticks her tongue out at me like we used to do as kids. “That’s not funny. I was actually thinking about having to get a cat. And I don’t like cats,” she grumbles.

  “Well, I appreciate you thinking—even for a moment—of sacrificing your lust life for me. But there’s no need.”

  She takes my hand as I place the kettle on the stove. “Sky, I worry about you. You’re more than my best friend. You’re my family.”

  “I know that, Kenz, and the same goes for me. Come here,” I order as I hug her.

  She suddenly pulls away. “Shit, I should get out of here before Cash comes, right? I mean, he’s coming here to spend the night with you, right? I’m sure he regrets not being there for you, but at least his brother was there. How lucky was that? Okay, I know he’s married but tell me—just how hot is Wyatt? Wait, don’t tell me. It will just suck when I remind myself that he’s taken,” she says, speaking a mile a minute.

  I laugh nervously. “Wyatt is very nice to look at. I think the family gene pool is blessed.”

  “Yes, and I’d love to go for a swim,” she says wistfully. I place a teabag in a mug and pour the hot water over it.

  “So what time is he going to get here?” she asks.

  “Um…I don’t know,” I say as I head into the bedroom. She follows me and places her hands on her hips as I sit on the edge of the bed.

  “Skylar Diane Marshall, what are you hiding from me?”

  “I’m not hiding anything,” I insist. She squints her eyes and arches her eyebrows.

  “Fine, Cash isn’t coming.”

  “Why?”

  “He doesn’t know. I didn’t tell him.”

  “It’s because of that toxic harpy, Monica, isn’t it? You let her get into your head.”

  “I just don’t want him to think I can’t handle things on my own.”

  “He won’t think that,” she replies as she sits down next to me.

  “Given the way we met, it’s easy for him to think of me as weak and needy. I can’t be that woman in his life; I won’t.”

  “Yeah, I guess I can understand that. You think Wyatt will keep his word?”

  “I hope so. What did you do tonight?”

  “I went to see a magic show by this magician guy. His name is Can-do the Great! He’s been after me for a while to see his show, and I ran out of excuses. So, I went.”

  “How was it?”

  “It was really good, then I went back to his place and we were making out and…”

  “And…” I push.

  “I got my period.”

  “Argh, that sucks!”

  “Yeah, I went to the bathroom, and thankfully I had a tampon with me. But I wasn’t sure if I should just tell him, you know?”

  “Yeah, I know exactly what you mean.”

  Kenzy and I have discussed this before; it’s easy to tell a man’s maturity level by how he reacts to hearing that you got your period.

  “So, how did he react?”

  “Do you remember that last twenty minutes of the movie Titanic?

  I laugh, “Yes, I do.”

  “Well, the people on that ship had more composure and decorum that the ‘Great Can-do.’”

  “Aw, sorry, Kenz.”

  “And he had the nerve to text me on my way here and say ‘hey, when that thing is done, we’ll hook up.’”

  “Did you text him back?”

  “Yup. I said, ‘at this point, you’d need the combined magical powers of Harry Potter, Merlin, and Gandalf to get anywhere near me, jerk.’” We laugh, and she places her head on my shoulder.

  ***

  The case I’m on today involves an asshole who is selling opioids behind his grandmother’s bakery. We watch as a steady flow of people enter and leave the shop, looking far happier than anyone should after getting a cupcake or fresh bread. It doesn’t take long for us to bust him; his operation was sloppy and had no finesse. His crew tried to run, but we caught them a few blocks down, all except one woman. She got away, and as crazy as it sounds she could have made the fucking Olympics the way she was moving.

  I run after her, and the only way I can catch up is by being willing to take more chances than she is. We get to a point where she’s only one rooftop away from freedom, and all she has to do is leap to the next building. The gap may or may not be too big. It’s hard to tell. If the space between the two buildings were insanely wide, she knew she might as well surrender. But unfortunately for her, the gap is just close enough to give her hope of making an escape. However, if she is wrong, that hope will cost her dearly.

  I’m about to catch up to her, and at the last minute, she decides she can’t risk falling. So she puts her hands in the air and gives up. Or at least that was her intention, but as soon as the cuffs come out, she makes a run at the other rooftop.

  I fucking hate shooting women. I mean, I’ll do that shit if I have to, but it’s not my first choice. And since she’s not armed, I know all I have to do is catch her. That’s why she took off; she’s certain that I’m not crazy enough to make the jump that she is about to make. She’s wrong.

  As soon as she leaps off the roof, I leap right behind her. She misses the landing by a few inches and ends up hanging onto the side of the roof. I barely make the landing myself. I drag my ass over to the side to help her up. The moment she’s no longer in immediate danger, she takes a swing at me and misses. I catch her arm in midair as she tries again. Before she knows what’s happening she’s handcuffed with her face to the ground.

  I take her to the station, where Nikko interviews her, hoping he can get her to give up someone bigger than her boss. I’m not sure he can do it—this woman looks determined not to cooperate. We decide to tag-team her, and an hour later, this chick is no closer to flipping on anyone. It really sucks, but sometimes, you don’t get the info you need. I have learned to cut my losses in cases like these.

  I get in my car to head home, but a call from Banshee forces me to make a change in my plans. I meet him in a parking lot in Queens. I get into his nondescript van, and he signals for me to look across the street at an abandoned building. There are a few people milling around and talking to each other as they make their way up the stairs. One guy—young, nerv
ous—hides his face under a baseball cap. He looks around and goes to enter the building but then reconsiders.

  “What are we looking at?” I ask.

  “I think our boy is about to make his very first buy,” he says. I look closer, and the nervous guy with the baseball cap is Tyler.

  “Damn it!” I yell as I run out of the car and cross over to him. He sees me coming and takes off up the stairs. I swear under my breath and take off after him. I take out my gun, not for Tyler, but because I have no idea who else is in the building.

  “ARMS UP!” I order to everyone as I burst into the room. They are scared shitless, proving yet again, they are not professionals. That doesn’t mean I can put down my weapon because they don’t need to be professional to have guns or to aim them.

  “HIGHER!” I demand. They follow my instructions. Tyler stands in the corner, glaring at me; if looks could kill, I would not make it home tonight.

  I take a quick survey of the second floor, and it’s all clear. This is just a hangout for low-level dealers. They don’t have enough product to warrant a raid. There are five people on the floors too high to even look up when I enter. The three guys running the operation don’t even look old enough drive. I look over at the table, and I’m relieved when it’s only bags of weed. And not enough to really make a case for.

  “Everybody, out. I don’t want to see any of you again, got it?” They slowly nod their heads, not sure if it’s a trick or not. “Get the fuck out! Go!” They scatter, all except for Tyler.

  “Is this what you want to do with your life now?” I ask.

  “How did you know I was here? Are you following me?”

  “I’m just trying to look out for you. What the hell are you thinking coming to a place like this?”

  “Why do you care, Agent Hunter?”

  “Because Hank wouldn’t have wanted you in a place like this.”

  He tackles me, and all I do is point the gun away from him. He’s all rage and no skill. I have him pinned to the wall in three fairly easy moves.

  “You need to calm down,” I warn. “I’m going to let you go; you try that again I will cuff you. Got it?” He nods but doesn’t say anything.

  “Fuck you,” he spits once I release him.

  “Yeah, I get it. You hate me. But this isn’t about me. What the hell are you doing here? You never get high—why are you doing this shit right now? You’re graduating.”

  “You think I care about that shit? You think I care about anything? When you took my father away, you took everything from me! Nothing matters now! Don’t you get that shit? Nothing matters!”

  “What about your mother, does she matter? Do you think she wants this life for you?”

  “Don’t bring her up. She spends every night crying because she misses my dad and you stand there, the man who killed him! What is wrong with you?”

  “I told you it was a mistake!”

  “You don’t make mistakes, not when it comes to aim! Your aim is perfect! Dad told me that a million times. So if you want to help me, stop lying to me: tell me, why did you kill him? He was my hero; I loved him. Why did you take him from me?”

  My chest tightens as I hear his desperate plea. A mix of stress and guilt grip me and make it very hard to focus. I try to talk to him in a calmer tone and remember that he’s just a kid.

  “Tyler, I know what it’s like to lose someone—believe me. And you can’t get over it by yourself. You need someone to talk to.”

  “I suppose I should talk to you?” he says sardonically.

  I shrug. “Hey, if that’s what you want, I’m here. But it doesn’t matter who you talk to. All that matters is that it’s someone. And no matter what happens, you can’t be the guy that gives in to grief by getting into drugs. That never ends well. I’ve seen it. And you have no idea what hell awaits you if you go down that path.”

  “You’re the one who has no idea what awaits you, Agent Hunter. You took someone I love, and I swear to God I will come for someone you love.”

  “Be careful, Tyler; it almost sounds like you’re threatening my family and that would be a mistake.”

  “I know there are five of you guys. And your mother, right? My dad told me you are all very close to your mother. I wonder—”

  In a blind rage, I grab him by his chest and pin him against the wall. He’s not scared—he’s determined.

  “The only reason we are going the long way around is because you are a kid and Hank was my partner. But do not for one second think I will hesitate to put you away if you come near my family.”

  “Um…everything okay here?” Banshee says behind me. I didn’t even realize he entered until I hear his voice.

  “Cash, you were just about to let this young man go, right?” he says carefully. I don’t reply, but I let go of him, and he straightens himself out.

  “I’ll make sure he goes home and nowhere else,” Banshee says as he follows the kid out of the building. When they are gone, the anger I feel spills over, and I hurl the table of weed across the room.

  ***

  After the day I’ve had, the only thing I want to do is go home to my girl. It sucks that she’s not at my house and I think about how good it would be to have her there every day. But God knows that’s a discussion for later, and right now, I don’t want to discuss anything. I just want to grab some food, a cold beer, and to hold my girl.

  I should have called before I stopped by her house but I hated to think that she would be busy and couldn’t see me. I figure even if she has other plans, at least I can see her face for a few moments, and that will make all the difference.

  I knock on her door, and moments later, she opens it wearing a dark silk robe. Her hair is pinned up and still damp from the shower she must have taken earlier. She doesn’t wear any makeup or jewelry, yet she has a glow about her. How the hell does that happen?

  Damn, I missed her…

  “Hey, babe.” I smile as I reach out and pull her against me.

  She says hello and returns my embrace. Then she pulls away—all too soon—and crosses her arms in front of her chest and says, “So, who’s Monica?”

  It’s not easy to surprise me, but I have to say, that’s exactly what she did. The expression on her face and the tone of her voice tell me she’s not pissed, but she’s also not happy.

  “How do you know about Monica?” I ask as I enter further into her apartment and close the door behind me.

  “That’s not the response I was looking for.”

  “Okay, am I gonna need a lawyer?” I tease.

  “I don’t know—did you do something wrong?” Her tone now leaves no room for doubt—she’s upset and it’s likely only to get worse if I don’t give her the info she demands.

  “Alright,” I reply as I make my way over to the nearest chair. I signal for her to sit in the chair next to me, and at first, she hesitates. Yeah, this may not go well.

  “Monica is a woman I used to hook up with when we were in the same city.”

  “So, you just meet and have sex when time permits?” she pushes.

  “Pretty much,” I reply.

  “What would you two do together? I mean was it ‘can’t get enough of you’ sex or ‘drunken’ sex or ‘we’re hiding our true feelings, but we love each other’ sex?”

  “Okay, babe, as a general rule I don’t talk about the women I have slept with and what we did or didn’t do. I’m not that guy.”

  “So you’re not gonna tell me?”

  “No, I’m not. And I shouldn’t have to,” I reply. I can see her chest moving up and down rapidly. “Babe, whatever happens with the women I’m with, I don’t disrespect them by sharing that information. If they want to talk about it, fine. But it won’t come from my end. But this isn’t about that. I’m sure you don’t want to hear what positions we did or didn’t do. So, why don’t you ask what you really want to know?”

  “You have feelings for her?” she asks in a small voice that makes my chest tight.

  “I
care about her. I don’t want anything bad to happen to her. But as far as romantic feelings go—I don’t have any. And as far as I know, neither does she. That’s not what we were about.”

  “Then what was it about?”

  “We both have high-pressure jobs and travel way too much. So when we are in the same place, we grab a drink and fuck. That’s it.”

  “When did you guys last hook up?” she asks. I inhale deeply and try to manage the frustration growing inside me. It doesn’t help that my day’s been crap.

  “Sky, I haven’t seen her in almost a year. She gave her new phone number to one of my brothers and I threw it away because I don’t need a hookup. She’s in the past. Are we good?” I ask. She doesn’t answer right away. She’s thinking it over, and the frustration I felt before is only growing.

  “Babe, I have no desire to be with anyone but you. Okay?”

  “I don’t know why I’m acting like this. It’s not that big of a deal, right? I mean it’s not like we’re married. So if you do want to see other people…”

  Christ, tell me she’s not planning on saying what I think she’s saying.

  “Skylar,” I warn.

  “What? I’m just saying I don’t have a right to demand to know who you are with,” she says, almost to herself.

  “Yes, you do. We’re together. You have a right to ask. But now that I have answered, can we move on?”

  “Yeah,” she says uncertainly.

  Although we agree to move on, there’s no way to actually start a new conversation because there are way too many unanswered questions. And now, there’s no hiding my frustration. I rake my hands through my hair and stare at the ceiling, asking God to grant me the patience I’ve never had before.

  “Who told you about Monica?” I ask again.

  “Shelby.”

  “What the fuck—where did you meet Shelby?” I ask, jumping out of the chair.

  “She entered your house.”

  “Wait, Shelby came by my house, and you let her in?”

  “No, she let herself in, and we started—”

  “What the hell do you mean, she let herself in?”