by V. L. Brock
Walker. Was going. To kill me.
Another riled, shaky sigh was expelled at the exact same moment that the door I had been silently willing to open for God only knows how long, was finally opened. Finding my feet, I dropped my empty, plastic cup of coffee into the small corner garbage can, and headed out to meet her.
“Kady,” I called out, though my beckoning rested on deaf ears. Her pace sped up, her hand lifting to cover her mouth when she barged her way to the restroom. In my veins, my blood was boiling, the glare I shot that despicable man DeLaney, when the door forced shut as it rebounded with her hasty, desperate shove, spoke volumes. “What the fuck are you even doing here?” I scolded.
“What am I doing here? I’m her boyfriend; she was released into my care. I deserve to be here, which is more than I can say for some.”
I shook my head, my finger scornfully pointed at him. “You stay the fuck away from her. Do you understand?” I was taking lengthy strides down the hallway to the bathroom to offer comfort, when my elbow was snared by a cramping grip. My protests, while being dragged further down the corridor, away from where Kady took refuge, went ignored. Out of earshot and prying eyes, I was forcefully turned to face him.
“I suggest you,” he grated through clenched teeth, his fingers pressing painfully on my bone, halting my already shaky efforts of breaking from his hold. “Stop with all these demands and warnings, Laurie. It’s really not polite. You wouldn’t want to see your friend get hurt now, would you?”
The way his lip curled had me fighting an inner chill, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing my unease. I wouldn’t give him my power. “You wouldn’t,” I challenged, the slight quivering of my voice betraying the mask held in place.
“I’ve warned you and that Irish prick once, I won’t repeat myself again.” The grip on my arm tightened more so, until a pained whimper escaped my lips. All that did was spur him on, the glassy look of gratification shimmered in his eyes, while my wince was reflected against them. One more step and we were toe-to-toe. “You seem to have forgotten who funded that business you both like to call your own. It was my money that was used to sign that lease. My money and men that gutted it open and refurbished. My money and connections that got it off the ground. Do you know what else is mine, Laurie?”––His head dropped to find my ear, and although my eyes were wide with discomfort, my shoulders remained back, my head held high––“You. I own you, and I own her, and I own him…you’ll do a fine job of remembering that.”
With a slouch of my shoulders as his hand fell from my arm and his mouth was nowhere near my ear, the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding was expelled through tightened lips. Kady was making her way towards us, I watched her from over his shoulder, her hands fisting into her hair. He must have noticed my attention shifting because his menacing, sanctimonious sneer softened marginally.
“I’ll be seeing you soon, Kady baby,” he sang, the warning in his tone spine-chilling. When he kissed her cheek, her lips compressed, her brow crumpled. He began to walk down the hallway, but not before spinning back on his heel to face us as he resumed walking backwards. Tethering us with an invisible line and a glint in his eyes, he called, “I’ll be seeing you both, very soon.”
I hated watching my best friend being torn up and spat back out. Her eyes were bloodshot, her cheeks blotchy. I knew she had been crying. How many tears she had cried over that one fucking man was ridiculous, and I hated knowing that I couldn’t help her. I hated knowing that I didn’t act sooner and attempted to get her away from him before it escalated to the shit storm we were now in. I rubbed her upper arm as consolably as a friend could while she sniffled. “How did it go in there?”
“Don’t ask.”
So I didn’t. Instead, I allowed my acts as her friend to help aid her. “Come on, let’s get you home.”
Walker
For miles and fucking miles I drove, praying to Jesus Christ himself that the haunting words which were echoing in my head would just stop. I could handle most shit that was tossed at me: ‘you’ve got broad shoulders for a reason, my boy’, as my Ma would say. But this…this was something I couldn’t take. Being told that my concern for a loved one was being compared to the acts of someone I wanted so desperately to put in the fucking ground, hurt more than any physical pain I’ve braved.
I sat in the gravel lot, my head pushed back into the headrest, my hands fisted in my lap. I had no clue how long I had been there for. It must have been a while though because the CD was starting its cycle for the second time. From the pickup’s speakers, Nickelback resonated about feeling too damn good. I sighed and rolled my eyes thinking of how goddamn right he was. Don’t get comfortable when things go well; instead be fucking guarded, because something’s bound to fuck up and drag you down to the shit pits.
I loved the bones off that woman. I’d do anything for her. Jesus fucking Christ, I had done. If only she fucking knew how much I had done in her name, then surely she would understand how much she means to me. Instead, I just got fucking compared to the prick that scarred her body, but worst of all, had scarred her mind.
That thought had my blood boiled and my heartbeat speeding.
Fuck, was I really like him?
How can one woman drive you stir crazy with just three words? In the end I gave up sitting and stewing in my own shit, booted open the truck’s door, and made my way inside.
“Alright, son?” Da called over from behind the bar.
Pulling out a stool, I slipped onto it and with my elbows on the edge of the bar, rubbed the palms of my hands in a circular motion. “Grand.” Fuck was I. The words she spoke troubled me since she said them.
“Stop lying.” I peeked up from under my eyebrows. His blue eyes were bright, much brighter than mine, and his long silver hair was pulled into a ponytail. “The tips of your ears go red when you lie––have done ever since you were a lad. Now, tell me. What’s bothering ya?” The clanking of glass being stacked came to a halt as he tossed me his, ‘I’m not stupid’ look.
“Am I anything like him?”
Da’s head cocked, the thin skin of his brow wrinkled more than it was already, his silver, bushy eyebrows pulled together. “Who?”
Continuing their circles, I looked back at my hands. I hadn’t come here for this. “Me and Liam, are we the same?”
“Jesus Christ, whatever made you think that, boy?” I didn’t have to look at him to see the disappointment on his old, creased face. His tone told me everything I needed to see.
With a defeated sigh, I finally filled him in.
“Son, there is a line between being protective over the one you love, and confining them. I loved the bones off your mother; I would’ve done exactly what you did. Hell, I did many times. Does that mean I was abusive? No, it doesn’t. Liam abused the power to be protective and crossed the line.” His old hand clawed around a pint glass on the bar and set it in position on the opposite side. “Even so, you’d never lay an abusive hand on a woman. You know I’d fuckin’ kill ya if ya did!”
An abusive hand on a woman…
The image of every time I laid my hand on Kady flashed through my mind like leather cutting through air. My hand…my belt. The thoughts of countless fucking times she wailed, begging for a help that I could give, trailed behind in my memory. I had helped her. I wrapped her numb, slaked body in my arms after every single time I aided her. That was nothing like Liam at all. My reflective thoughts quickly became a task of comparison, one which differentiated between my goals, and His.
He inflicted for power and purpose.
I inflicted to save and aid.
“Thanks, Da. I need that,” I smiled.
“What else is the Old Man for, eh?”
He coughed and spluttered a few times before I drew a deep breath and pushed aside my pride. “Da, is there…do you need anything done, a hand around this place, behind the bar, handyman or anything?”
“I really wish I could help, but things are tight at
the moment, son, I––”
“It’s alright;”––I held my hands up already feeling embarrassed and rejected––“I shouldn’t have asked.”
“You could always talk to Les. I know it wouldn’t be the first or the second time that you would have been to him.”
His tone didn’t sit right with me. It was almost brash. Twenty-five I may be, but was he really giving me approval to go to Les?
Les was Ma’s older brother. The boxing gym he runs a few miles south wasn’t enough for him. He soon found that dabbling in some bare fist fighting was a way to secure his rep. Not the most honorable man and definitely something that my Ma would be turning in her grave over, knowing that I had mixed myself up in a scene she warned me never to get involved in.
“For fuck sake, Da. I come here, swallow my fuckin’ pride asking for help, and you’re quick enough to stick my head in the lions fuckin’ den.” Ready to leave, I slipped off the stool, and skirting the pool table, paced toward the door.
“Hold your horses just one minute, son. I’m not sticking anything in the lion’s den. I’m just reminding you that you’ve done it before without my approval, so what’s stopping you now? You’re a guaranteed win. How can they knock someone down when they welcome it?”
“You speak about it like it’s a fuckin’ gift,” I spat in my defeat, my back still facing him.
“Gift?” When I turned around, his eyes were like stone, his face equally hardened by my words. “You think it’s a fucking gift”––the pint glass in his hand was slammed down on the counter. How the hell it didn’t smash I had no clue––“pulling up outside the fucking door after your mother’s wake and hearing my baby boy’s screams from inside? You think it was a fucking gift having to spend months tending to that bastard wound when I should have been mourning your mother? Jesus fucking Christ, Ger––”
Oh, no he fucking didn’t.
As soon as my glare toughened, the old man saw sense. My jaw worked ferociously as anger raged through my veins. I was hit by a wall of memories within seconds. I fought it, I had to. I was scared of what I was capable of if I didn’t.
In surrender, Da held his hands up and licked his withered lips. I shook my head. “Walker––”
“You know what,” tears were already threatening to spill, as my own father used the one thing against me, which could bring me to my knees. “I’m so fucking sorry that I disappoint you.”
I saw that my words and reaction hurt him. He was my father, I loved him, but at that moment, all I wanted was my mother. To have her stand on tiptoes, reaching up to hug me and make me feel…wanted, because at that moment, I had never felt so Goddamn shunned in my life.
With a shaking of his head, he moved around the bar and walked toward me, a slight gait in his old age. Wrinkled hands grabbed the sides of my face firmly, as I towered over him by a few inches. “You are my son,” he gritted, and then pulled me down to rest his brow against mine. “You could never disappoint me. I love you, even if you are bat shit crazy.”
I snorted, sarcastic.
“What I meant was: in life, you have to take every flaw you have and turn it to an advantage. They’ll never expect it. You have strength, son. You’re the strongest person I know. Even your mother agreed with that, and that, Ger, is a gift.” I wished he’d stop calling me that. It was too painful for me––too bittersweet. I closed my eyes and fought to recover my wits. His hand fell instantly into his back pocket when he pulled away. “Here, I don’t have much, but there’s two hundred dollars.”
I tried to shake off his offering, but he wasn’t having any of it; typical of Carriag Walker. “Take it,” he thrust the bills into my chest. “Now, you’ve got a woman who you’ve waited nearly two years for, waiting for you. Get out of here.”
Nodding I turned around and lifted the bills in silent thanks.
“Do something I didn’t do. Cherish every moment with her. You only get one chance.”
My face broke with so much emotion, yet all I could do was smile. “Nah, we’ve had three, and the third time is the charm.” I sighed when I turned to the door only to be stopped again. “Yes, Da,” I breathed.
He looked around a little ill at ease. “Bring her with you next time. I fuckin’ miss the girl.”
“’Aye.”
He waved me off. “Go. Go and get your woman.”
So I did, before he called me back again.
Chapter Seven
Kady
Fleeing as quickly as my legs could carry me was the sole point of my agenda, and I knew that waiting for Walker to arrive, would cause a delay in that urgency.
With each step I took down the building’s corridors, with each corner I approached, my body would tense in fear of Liam being there. The mere thought of him lurking in the shadows beyond the hospital walls waiting for another opportunity to strike, put me in a near catatonic state.
We were in the cab on the way back to The Pavilion. The drive was made in complete silence, with the exception of the occasional sigh from the woman to my left. It was as if she wanted to tell or ask me something. Either way, nothing could pull me from my state of deep reflection as I stared, absentminded, out of the window to my right.
Were the questions lingering in the mist of my memory ever going to be unearthed? Was the rest of my life doomed to be this way? Justifying beatings and being held captive by the wrath of someone I loved, in a house which now makes my skin crawl, or looking around corners, dreading what may stand behind them, in fear that he’s lurking, waiting for the perfect moment to strike and whittle down what remained of my resolve?
What sort of life is that?
All things considered, despite my migraine-inducing thoughts, a tiny voice whispered that ultimately, being with Liam would be less of a worry than the position I was now seeing myself in. At least when I was there in front of him, I could see the physical indications of when he would attack. At least then I would be prepared for what was to come. But now, I had no clue––I had no foresight of what to expect. What I did know was, the likelihood of danger had been cast to those around me, the ripples already forming in the water working its way through us all…All I could do was live in fear of what could happen, and hope and pray that in a twisted, warped sense, that that method alone would help prepare me for those pending moments, so I wouldn’t be caught off-guard again.
Leviton’s words were repeated in my mind until the driver finally pulled up alongside the never-ending string of dilapidated, terraced properties. “There’s no record of anyone prescribing further tranquilizers to Kady. Common sense dictates that she shouldn’t have had those pills, Mr. DeLaney.” I couldn’t remember specifics, and it frustrated me no end. Each time a vital piece of information which I attempted to recall would slip from between my hands, antagonized me more. Lost to my silent musing, I questioned whether this was an area never fated to be painted in color.
The degree of my naivety was both powerful and pathetic. Liam could have done anything to me during our years together––Hell, he had done. Nevertheless, he remained a picture-perfect, model businessman and a respected member of society. Yet behind closed doors, Liam DeLaney was ruthless. He was ruthless in his pursuit of me. Ruthless in his control. Ruthless in the beatings and punishments he issued at his own accord. What made it worse was his reach extended the furthest city in Boston. With Liam DeLaney, anything was possible. And that was unsettling.
“Kady,” Laurie’s voice was a soft mumble behind me as I slipped the key in the lock, twisted, and kicked open the lowered half of Walker’s apartment door.
Stepping over the threshold, the floorboards groaned the further into the room I stepped. “Yeah.”
“Can I ask you something?”
My purse was placed with a heavy hand on the coffee table before I turned on my heel. Laurie pushed the door closed as I said, “Of course.”
In a small, timid voice unlike to her own, she asked a question that set my stomach in knots and the bitter taste
of dread rose to my throat. “Do…” she faltered. Arms across my chest, I studied her strolling deeper into the bare room, focusing on her sneakers. Finally, she peeked up at me and resumed, “Do you think Liam has it in him to really harm someone–– someone you care about––just to prove a point?”
Did I ever? His words still haunted me, “You are the center––little Laurie and that Irish prick gravitate towards you. But I am the fuel, the flame if you will. One spark from me, and see everyone you love burn.”
Suddenly, my mouth was very parched. I licked my lips. “He’s a very influential man, Laur. He craves control. He needs control.”
It was her additional hasty words that had stopped me from heading to the kitchen to make a strong coffee. “What do you think would happen, if somehow he lost that control?” I’d never seen Laurie like that before. Hanging her head, she fidgeted a little before looking back at me, her expression tense. “What if that control was taken from him?” she whispered.
Taking control from Liam was like taking a lion from the wild and locking it in a shopping mall full of patrons––both stupid and highly dangerous. The thought of that even happening spawned a shudder down my spine and goose bumps settled over my flesh. “If I’m honest, I don’t even want to think of what he could be capable of.”
Even standing eight feet away I heard her breath catch. She tried to disguise the jolt of her body but I caught sight of it. Jolting and wincing was something I was used to. When the action becomes second nature to one, it’s easy to discern in another.
“If you lose something that defines you, then you have nothing left to lose. And that in itself is terrifying enough.”
After calming my nerves with a strong coffee, I dug out my cell from my purse. Noticing the envelope notification, I opened it up:
Walker: You alright, darlin’? I’ve finished my errand, so let me know when the both of ya need picking up.
I began typing back:
Me: Shit, sorry I should’ve called. No lift necessary, we got a cab back to the apartme––
