by Sara V. Zook
He rubbed his forehead, remaining silent. The rain was starting to ease up a little. An expensive black car pulled up alongside the sidewalk. The guy raised his hand and pointed at the vehicle. “Get in.”
I lowered my eyebrows, my mind spinning with what I could say to get out of this. I wanted to get away from Haven. I was leaving right now.
The man put a firm hand on my shoulder. “Get in the damn car, Nicky.”
CROSS
I wanted to murder Mark. How I ever made it through the rest of that dinner is beyond me. I didn’t even know what the conversation had entailed, probably nothing substantial after me and my amazing husband put such a dark cloud over everything. I could barely even see clearly from all this inner rage. It consumed me. It wasn’t just the way he had acted tonight, it was little things here and there building up into one big shit pile. It was also the fact that I didn’t even recognize myself anymore. How in the world had I let myself become so weak and pathetic? I was pissed off at myself, too. I was wallowing in my miserable life, which only made it that much more miserable, and I wanted it all to just disappear, like all of it had never happened, that I’d never met Mark in the first place and hadn’t fallen for his bullshit plans for some extraordinary, romantic, happy ever after together. He was like a cheesy car salesman, and somehow I had fallen victim to his charm and bought the goddamn car. No. I didn’t want to be a victim. I wanted to rise above it all, but I needed help, and I felt so alone. No family to turn to, one friend who had a great life that I couldn’t possibly impose upon. No one. I was utterly pathetic.
I watched as Mark slowed down and was pulling the car alongside the road next to a field. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” he asked sarcastically.
I turned to face him in my seat, glaring at him.
“Get out.”
“What did you just say?” I asked, shocked that he’d even suggest such a thing.
“You heard me,” he answered. “Get the hell out. Now.”
“Me?”
“The way you acted tonight—”
“Oh my god, Mark! Are you kidding me right now? The way I acted? You point your goddamn finger at yourself!” I felt it surfacing, all of it. It had been building for way too long now, and it wasn’t going to be pretty. The nerve of this imbecile! “You get the fuck out! You humiliated me! It’s not just tonight, either! The entire time I’ve been with you, you’re nothing but one huge embarrassment on my life!”
Mark pulled out a cigarette and calmly placed it between his lips. He didn’t speak as he searched for a lighter. It made me even more furious. I slapped the cigarette out of his mouth. It went spiraling to the floor. “Stupid whore!”
“I’m not the one who practically groped a waitress in front of everyone!”
Mark rolled his eyes. “Poor, poor Lilah! Give me a fucking break!”
“I work hard for everything I have. You don’t do a damn thing! You sit on your fat ass day after day…”
He gripped my arm tightly and squeezed, his fingertips digging into my skin. “Be careful what you say to me,” he warned with gritted teeth. I jerked my arm away from his grasp, wincing from the pain. “Not all of us are lucky enough to be born Lilah Cross with a rich senator as our daddy.” He narrowed his eyes at me.
“You’re nothing but a leech, Mark. Get over yourself. The world doesn’t owe you a thing.”
“You’re right, but you do. You’re my wife.”
It was disgusting the way he threw the word around as if the only job I had in the world was to be obedient to him, waste away until there was nothing left of me but an empty shell because he did nothing but suck a little part of me away day by day. Hell, I was close enough to that now as it was. “And what about you? You’re supposed to be a husband, support me, take care of me, not the other way around! You filled me with bullshit lies from day one.”
“I’m trying to find work.”
“You’re a fucking liar.” I spit in his face. “Loser.”
He wiped the wetness away with his fingers, his eyes now large and frightening, consumed by the same fire that engulfed me. “Get out.” He could barely get the words out as he clenched his jaw together, beads of sweat forming at the edge of his hairline on his forehead.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
We sat there in silence for a few moments when Mark suddenly reached across me and forced the passenger side door open. I screamed as he pushed on my shoulder and half of my body began to slip outside. I pushed against the ground with the foot that was already out of the car and tried to steady myself so that the rest of me wouldn’t fall while trying to grip onto anything I could.
“Stop it!” I shrieked.
This made him only push with more force, and my foot outside started to slip from the lack of traction on the bottom of my heeled shoes. I reached over with my free right arm and sank my nails into his biceps. I knew instantly I had drawn blood. He cried out in pain. It was enough to get him to back up a little as he inspected his new wounds. He turned off the car and ripped the keys from the ignition, stuffing them into his pocket. Then he got out of the car and slammed the door shut. I managed to stand up, a section of the bottom of my dress torn. I bent down to retrieve my purse that had fallen onto the ground and then stood back up and crossed my arms. I sucked in gulps of fresh air as Mark made his way around the car to my side.
“Do you know how many girls I’ve slept with since I’ve been with you, Lilah?”
“I don’t really give a fuck.” Honestly, I didn’t want to know what kind of sick game he had been playing behind my back this entire time. I had seen a side to him tonight I didn’t know existed. What kind of box had I been living in all these years? The first thing on my to-do list for tomorrow was to call my gynecologist and get STD screening done.
“None!” he yelled out. “I haven’t been with a single woman since I met you! And don’t think I haven’t had opportunities, Lilah. I’ve had plenty of them, and I’ve turned them all down because of you, and this is the kind of shit you do to me? You embarrass me in front of all those people? Now they don’t respect me. They take me as a fool.”
I sighed as I tapped my fingernails against the sides of my arms. I could see the blood stains from what I had just done to Mark through his white T-shirt as it seeped through. “Would you like some sort of award for being faithful to me, Mark? Maybe I should take on a second job to support your sleep-on-the-couch-and-don’t-shower habit? Would that make you feel better?” I kicked at some loose gravel on the ground with my foot and shook my head as a vicious laugh escaped my throat. “You made an ass out of your own self. You didn’t need my help for that.”
“You bitch.”
I held up my hand to silence him. “Yeah, we all know I’m the bitch here. Mark didn’t get his own way tonight. Mark didn’t get the slutty waitress’s number.” I smirked. “You’re so full of shit. I’m not going to even stand here and pretend to believe that you’ve never cheated on me. First of all, I don’t even give a fuck anymore, and secondly, I call bullshit. After what you just did? After what you’ve done for years with saying one thing and doing another? You’re nothing but worthless, and you wouldn’t know the truth if it came up and slapped you in the face. You’re so full of shit, it wouldn’t surprise me if all the lies you’ve fed me, you’ve also fed yourself, and you believe your own crap now.”
“You know what, maybe I will go find someone else to sleep with, someone whose uterus isn’t deformed and who can get pregnant,” he said with such malice in his voice, it sounded foreign and unrecognizable.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t stand the sight of him. I walked over and looked him straight in the eye, nose to nose. Then I reached up and swung at him with my left hand and let my engagement ring and wedding band hit him full force along with my knuckles as all my wrath was released in one swift movement. He stumbled backward, his hand covering his face as he looked at me in horror. I knew the ri
ngs had caused the most damage. “You don’t know anything about my goddamn uterus. Did you ever think that all these years I’ve just never wanted to create your worthless baby, Mark?” I imitated the way he had just spoken to me and put as much hurt and cruelty in it as I possibly could. “If you don’t shut the fuck up, you know what’s going to happen to you, don’t you?”
He just stared at me, blood trickling down the side of his face from where my jewelry had made contact with the skin beside his eye.
“You’re going to end up dead,” I continued.
“Now you’re going to threaten my life, Lilah?” He shook his head. “How would you pull that off? Get your daddy to come after me? You and I both know that’s never going to happen. Remember, Lilah? He abandoned you. He doesn’t even consider you his daughter anymore.” He walked around to the driver’s side door again. “I’m done, so fucking done. I’m going home, and don’t even think you’re coming with me. You’re not getting back inside this car.”
I watched as he started the engine and pressed down hard on the gas pedal. The tires spun and a few loose rocks were kicked up my way. He squealed the tires once he got back on the road. I waited until he was completely out of sight, and then I kneeled down in the dirt and buried my head in my arms to cry.
CAIN
“I’m Hagan, by the way,” the man with the long brown coat and hat said. He flashed me a smile as we pulled into an alley and stopped next to the back door of some place.
“Where are we?” I asked him, taking a cigarette out of my pocket and examining it to see how wet it was. When convinced it would probably light, I dug for my lighter, but Hagan held up his hand to prevent me from completing the task.
“No, not in here,” he said as if I should know better. “That shit will go right into the leather.”
I glanced around and took note of the spotless appearance of the inside of the car. I made eye contact with the driver who was watching me in the rearview mirror as I put the lighter and cigarette away. What a bunch of prudes. Who the hell doesn’t let someone smoke in their car? I didn’t care how much money this interior was, I needed a goddamn smoke.
“We’re at The Salty Dawg.”
I lowered my eyebrows. “Okay—”
He laughed. “It’s a big club in Haven.”
It wasn’t even noon and we were already at a bar. That was good though, because I needed a drink. I was just starting to feel the hangover go away from last night. I should probably drink myself into another stupor to forget that I wasn’t on my way back to Lazerne right now, that I was involved—again—with these dumb shits.
Another car pulled up behind us. I watched as Seton and the Triplets got out of the car and headed our way. Great, even more guys than the last job. Double homicide this time perhaps? Hagan likewise got out, so I followed suit. I tugged at my shirt as it still clung to my chest and stomach from the rain, but at least it was starting to dry.
“What’s he doing here?” Seton asked in a pissed off voice, his angry eyes meeting mine.
Hagan shrugged. “Not my call.”
“Unbelievable,” Seton huffed as the Triplets took stance behind him, all of their hands clasped together in front of them like Seton’s mini-army waiting for his command. “Just stay out of the way,” he warned, pointing his finger in my face as he opened the back door and walked in.
The smell of cigarette smoke hit my nostrils as I followed everyone inside. The guy who had driven us here remained in the car. I thought about taking that cigarette back out but decided it probably wasn’t a great idea until I figured out what exactly this job was all about.
I followed the guys through a few rooms including a kitchen area where a few staff members barely looked our way. Loud music boomed throughout the entire place. We came into an open area where we ended up being on the top floor overlooking a huge dance floor.
A middle-aged guy with gray hair and a few days’ worth of stubble growing on his face hurried to approach us. He shook Seton’s hand. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”
Seton nodded. “Where are they?”
“In the downstairs lounge,” the man replied, a nervous look on his face as he glanced at the rest of us.
“We’ll follow you,” Seton told him.
Down some stairs and through a narrow hall took us to the downstairs lounge. There was a loud bang as soon as we got close. A table had just been overturned, drinks and all. A big guy in an over-sized suit with his tie loosened was responsible. He had a waitress by the arm, and I watched as he backhanded her. She cried out in pain as she fell to the floor. There were two guys with this one. They were laughing and having a good time at the waitress’s expense.
“What’s the problem here?” Seton yelled out as all of us stepped into the room.
The big guy turned around, the smile on his face fading. “Who are you?”
“I wouldn’t worry about who I am,” Seton told him. “I’d worry more about what I’m gonna do to you.”
The two men who were with the other one closed in so that they formed a small triangle. “Do to me?” He chuckled. “Do you have any idea who I am? I’m Ricky Hamilton.”
“Ricky Hamilton? Ever heard of that name before, Nicky?” Hagan asked, turning to me.
Me? They were talking to me? What the hell for? I didn’t want dragged into anymore of this as it was, let alone my name being thrown into the mix. “Nope.”
“Well, let me tell you what you’re gonna do here, Ricky Hamilton,” Seton continued. “You’re gonna leave and never come back.”
“I didn’t get my drink yet,” Ricky stated.
A girl slowly stood up from behind the bar. Half of her reddish-colored hair was caked to her bloody face. I hadn’t even known she was there. She must’ve been huddled in a ball underneath the bar or something to hide from these monsters. “You got lots of drinks,” she said quietly but with boldness.
The guy turned his head to glare at the woman. “Why, you brave bitch, you,” Ricky snapped. “I’ll cut your tongue out.”
“And he hasn’t paid,” she continued.
“What’s the matter, Ricky Hamilton?” Hagan asked smugly. “You look so—shocked.”
The guy narrowed his eyes. I watched one of his hands clench at his side, the other moving slowly up toward his waist. “Scared bitch was just hiding a minute ago.”
“You mean until we showed up,” Hagan suggested, the smirk still on his face.
I could feel the tension building in the room, how everyone around me was positioned just right for a fight, but not a normal kind of fist fight that we sometimes had back home. No, this was the dangerous kind –the kind that sent a guy straight to his grave, and here I was standing side by side with Hagan and Seton, two of Carmine’s biggest badasses, who did this kind of shit time and time again. My inexperience hit me just then along with the nerves. As my hand began to tremble at the thought of what was coming, what could possibly happen, I shoved it inside my wet jeans pocket to hide it and put on my best stone face. Oh, how I wished for a bullet-proof vest right now.
“Yeah, until you showed up,” the guy said mockingly. “Aren’t you all so tough? What do you got? A knife? Some knuckle dusters maybe?”
Seton shrugged. “Can’t say I blame her for feeling protected with us.”
“Is that who you assholes are?” Ricky Hamilton bellowed out. “You protect the Salty Dawg?” He laughed, but it only made Seton’s smirk grow wider. It was a sick kind of smile, the one that would make me puke if he were looking at me like that.
The waitress on the floor started to get up. I only noticed her because she was groaning so badly. She put her hand to her cheek to check for blood as she stared up at the three guys with her one eye that wasn’t swollen shut. “You’re going to pay for what you did to me!” she screamed out.
“Shut the fuck up!” Ricky Hamilton turned around and kicked her. She landed with a hard thud back on the floor, unconscious again.
Within a second, Seton ha
d retrieved a handgun that had been stuffed in his pants at the waist. He had it pointed directly at Ricky Hamilton’s head so as he turned around from slapping around the girl, he looked straight down the barrel. “How’s this for a knife, a knuckle duster?” Seton asked him mockingly through gritted teeth. “This impressive enough for you?” And there it was, Seton’s temper as I had seen it before in that abandoned building noted by the thick vein now protruding again from his neck. That thing looked like it was going to pop.
“Whoa, man!” the guy said, holding up his hands as if surrendering and taking a few steps back.
I saw the other two men who belonged with Ricky Hamilton have their hands on their waists as well, ready to pull out their guns at any given moment if Seton let his guard down. There came that sickening feeling again, like I was about to throw up, only it wasn’t quite as strong this time. Maybe that’s because no one had gotten their face blown off yet.
“Tell them to put their guns on the floor…slowly,” Hagan told the guy, his eyes seeing the same thing I was seeing.
Ricky Hamilton didn’t respond.
“I’ll blow your goddamn head off!” Seton yelled, the vein now brought to life as it pulsated grotesquely. He shoved the end of his gun right against Ricky’s big, wide nose.
“Okay, okay.” Ricky continued to keep his hands up. “Do what he says.”
“Now!” Hagan yelled, his gun now out as he pointed it at the other two guys.
The Triplets followed his move, and they, too, had their guns out and pointed. Only I was left standing there unarmed, completely inexperienced and so out of place. I didn’t belong in this group or on this job. Why the hell did Carmine make Hagan drag me here? I needed a cigarette so goddamn bad. My trembling fingers were fumbling around with it in my pocket as I waited for something to happen—a bullet to fly, more blood spilled, me barfing all over the floor.
The two guys removed their weapons and placed them on the ground in front of them.
“Now, Ricky Hamilton, whoever the fuck you are,” Seton stated, “your turn. Put down your gun.”
