by K. S. Adkins
“I see.”
“I don’t think you do,” I say, knowing what’s coming, but too far in to stop it. “I want a divorce. I had a pretty decent life until you came back and fucked it all up. I was seeing someone, and I’d like to continue doing so without my marriage to you hanging over my head. I’ve upheld my vows long enough.”
“Seeing someone? You lied to me? Why?”
“Simple,” I say, shrugging it off. “I wanted to fuck you again, see if it was still there, only it wasn’t. I wanted to know what you knew, and now that I do you can go back to your own life and leave me to mine. Now I have to take out the trash. Don’t act so surprised about it; you had to know it was coming.”
“You don’t love me at all, do you?”
“Not anymore, no.” I struggle to get out because the lies are burning in my stomach. “I loved who you were then, not whoever you are now. Who you are now and what you do for a living is abhorrent to me. Even considering a future between us is laughable; it’s better to end this now.”
“What’s her name?”
“Who’s name?”
“The woman you need to get back to, the one I’m keeping you from.”
“Don’t worry about her,” I tell her, wanting her to drop it. “She’s none of your business.”
I expected her to flip out. I waited for her to attack me or maybe even shoot me, but she doesn’t. Unfolding her legs she leaves me sitting in the living room and when she rounds the corner, she rips me apart without looking at me.
“I’ll be gone in ten minutes.”
Never moving from my spot, it’s all I can do to stay seated. I can hear her moving around, opening drawers, and talking on the phone. Exactly nine minutes later I hear a truck’s exhaust, followed by Rafe kicking in my door. Before he can kill me Jules comes down the steps, expressionless.
Rafe’s chest looks ready to explode. In return, I act like his presence is an annoyance while Jules puts her hand on his arm then faces me.
“Be happy, Max,” is all she says when she takes the heart from my chest and walks out of my front door, never looking back.
“You piece of horse shit,” he growls, getting in my face. “Everything she’s done for you, for all of us, and this is how you repay her?”
“Take her where she needs to go, Rafe,” I say back casually. “As long as it’s away from here and away from me. I don’t need her anymore.”
“You don’t give a fuck about anyone do you?” he yells, pushing me. “Do you, motherfucker?”
Shrugging my shoulders, I level him with a look that shuts him up. “Sure I do,” I say, leaning in. “Me.”
He stares at me, debating what to do next. “You best hope your face doesn’t run into my fist anytime soon.” When his phone rings he blinks, looks at it, then walks out the door back to Jules. Watching him pull away with my wife I force myself not to break down. Especially once I go up to our room and see she’s left her ring on the dresser with a note.
Maxwell,
With this band, no matter where I was, all I had to do was look down to be reminded what I was fighting for. You.
In all these years, I’ve never been without it.
I wish you and whomever she is happiness.
That’s all I ever wanted for you, even if it wasn’t with me.
You were right, though, you don’t need me.
You never did.
You proved that today by lying to me.
I still have a lot to fight for, I just can’t fight for you anymore…
J
Grabbing the ring and the note, I sit on the edge of our bed and break down for real. Hours of misery and a fifth of whisky later, I have to ask myself, do I have any fucking clue what I’m doing? The answer is easy: no.
I didn’t have a god damn clue.
But she knew. Like she always does, that I’m a coward and now she can add liar to the list too.
“Jesus, Lina,” I groan, sitting next to the toilet. “How do you drink like this all the time?”
“I come all the way out here to see you, and you puke,” she says, handing me a towel. “What the fuck are they training you for? Every government pawn needs to throw back tequila. It’s the American way!”
“Stop yelling,” I beg her. “Or yell quietly, please.”
“You’re an embarrassment to women everywhere,” she says. “I gotta kick someone out, be right back.”
Closing my eyes and resting my head on the lid, I promise to never drink again if I can just breathe without getting sick.
“Okay, he’s gone,” she says minutes later, turning on the shower.
“You brought someone back with you?”
“Well yeah,” she says, helping me up. “Always wanted to bag an officer,”
“How was it?”
“Short,” she says, snorting. “Like his haircut.”
The next couple of days were brutal. Once I recovered from my tequila-induced hangover I did what I always do. I got back to business. First order of business was shutting off my phone. The calls, the texts, and the voicemails were not helping. None of them were from him, either, not that I expected them to be. But old habits die hard. My phone is my lifeline, so every time it pinged, dinged, or lit up I found myself checking it just in case it was him. Only it never was, so I drank more.
When I went to the department to see the Captain, that went down as expected. A shit load of resistance, idle threats, and finally the red tape. In my opinion, if the good Captain had nothing to hide, he would aide me instead of shut me down. When he told me that without the proper documentation (which for obvious reasons, I did not have) that he could refuse to speak with me, he showed me the door and that was that. I assured him I’d be back, and he assured me that by my actions alone, he considered me a traitor. I assured myself I didn’t give a fuckity fuck.
Stopping at the liquor store I grab more booze and head back to my room to do some leg work and call in some favors. Opening the door and seeing Bishop sprawled out on my shitty couch didn’t even comfort me. At this point, I was beyond caring. I was ready to leave Detroit and stay gone for good.
“This place smells like ass,” he says, stretching out. “speaking of ass, you look like—”
“Why are you here?” I ask, unscrewing the top off my newest bottle. The shit is disgusting, but as much time as Jose and I have been spending together, I figured before our time was up I’d be fluent in Spanish.
“You weren’t answering your phone,” he says. “Called Max and he told me to fuck off, he was done with you, and that you’re probably already headed home to me where you belong. I had to ask myself, why would he go to all this trouble to win you back only to let you go? Know what I came up with?”
“Don’t care,” I say, wrapping my lips around Jose and opening my throat.
“My spidey senses tell me he’s full of shit.”
“Go back to DC, Bishop,” I tell him, burping. “Give me a day or two, and I’ll be right behind you.”
“That right?” he asks, sitting up. “You believed him? That guy loves you, Boss. Ever think he’s trying to protect you?”
“Stop fucking talking,” I growl at him. “He claims he’s seeing someone else. He also claims to have used me for intel, for fuck’s sake. Now get the fuck out so I can suffer in silence, or man the fuck up and drink with me.”
“He ain’t seeing no one else, Boss,” he says, sitting next to me. “I didn’t fly to this hellhole to fuck with you. He called me you know, before. Called Duffy, too. I’m wondering if maybe this was his idea. Ain’t no secret Duffy wants you home. Max called him for help. You don’t think it’s possible Duffy played a part in this? Put the fucking bottle down and think.”
“Duffy wouldn’t do that,” I say, setting the bottle on the floor, but still within reaching distance. “He gains nothing from doing it.”
“Sure he does,” he says, rolling his eyes. “He gets you back in DC and he gets to leave this shit hole, too. I’ve been on t
ours in third world countries that have more potential than this dump. He knows you’re working off the clock, and he’s pissed. This has Duffy written all over it, Boss. He knew Max wanted you safe. My guess is this was his way of having him do it, saving him the trouble. Go on and call Duffy, I’ll wait.”
“Dammit, Bishop,” I say, reaching for my bottle, and for some reason it keeps moving. “It’s over. I’m wrapping things up and I’m gone.”
“Make the fucking call.”
Fine. I think to myself, get it the fuck over with so I can move on. But doubting a team mate isn’t what we do. I’m rebelling against the idea out of habit. We lay down our lives for each other, no questions asked. What I’m about to do, in my opinion, is an act of treachery. Turning my phone on, I ignore the missed calls and texts and dial Lina first. I asked her to stay on the line and stay quiet because my drunk ass couldn’t spot a lie at fifty yards right now. Hitting the proper buttons I three-way Duffy into the conversation which shocked me that I was able to do it at all. When he answers I keep it brief and to the point.
After grilling him, then grilling him further because I am too drunk and repeating myself, I disconnect with Duffy and focus back on Lina.
“Well?” I ask her while my stomach starts to roll.
“Oh he’s totally lying,” she says. “But he sounds hot.”
Closing my eyes, I thank her quietly, then disconnect. Sitting back on the shitty couch I look over at Bishop, and in his usual way he keeps me from raging. “Whatever Max did, he did it because Duffy conned him. Even if he didn’t agree with Max’s plan, if meant you’d be safe, Duffy would back it. He cares about you, he don’t give a fuck about him.”
“I know.”
“Then you also know that ain’t the kind of shit a man does who isn’t in love. Max loves you.”
“Bishop—”
“You ain’t got a closet full of dresses or fancy jewelry, Boss, but you’re still a woman. You can look at me and tell me you believed that shit he said to you? After all the shit he went through to partner with you, protect you? Come on, Boss, he even went toe to toe with me and Duffy. You ain’t gotta forget the hurt, but think with your head for a minute.”
Before I can answer him there’s a banging on the door. Not just a banging, but multiple fists are doing the pounding. Bishop gets up, walks over, and when he opens the door I immediately take another gulp out of my bottle. Peering around the corner when I see them I take another chug knowing it’s about to be a long fucking night.
The four musketeers crowd me, and both Venessa and Macy are talking at once. The guys are staring at Bishop while he stares back. When they both finish, Rafe looks as miserable as I feel. I am still gulping because what I am hearing has me looking to get hammered and pass out. However, the alternative is killing my husband which after what I just heard make homicide plausible.
Once they leave and Bishop crashes out, I sit down on the floor, looking out over the city and silently asking whoever could be listening for answers. The hits just keep coming. After everything I’ve done he gave Lush to Venessa. “Why, Max? Why would you do this to me?”
“He thought he was keeping his woman safe,” says Bishop, sitting down next to me. “I may not agree with what he did it, but I get why he did it.”
Looking over at both Bishops because now there’s two of them, I tell him the god’s honest. “Just one time I wanted him to choose me, Bishop. I wanted to be first. I stirred the pot, that’s on me, so I need to set things right here. I’m still taking Hank down, and once that’s over I’m giving Max what he wants.”
“Anal?”
“Divorce, you asshole.”
“You’re drunk and not making sense,” he says, pulling my head onto his lap. “I’ve never seen you like this. Fuck, I ain’t never even seen you drink. Making decisions tonight is a bad idea, Boss.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were gay?”
“Would it have mattered?”
“No.”
“Then why tell you? You love me, I know it. I knew you knew, but some shit you just don’t talk about. It ain’t because I’m ashamed. I kept it from you for the same reasons you kept Max from me.”
“Love shouldn’t hurt like this.”
“At least you know what it feels like, Boss.”
“It’s not feeling so good right now, Bishop. Thanks for having my back.”
“Boss?”
“Hmm?”
“Don’t divorce him, just… don’t.”
Laughing at my own misery, I whisper. “I already did.”
“Come again?”
“Filed for it at county anyway, got the old ball rollin’. Paid a messenger today to serve him. Like I was going to let him serve me first…please. Don’t hate the player, and all that.”
“God dammit, Boss,” he whispers, rubbing my back. “You just made a huge fucking mistake.”
“Naw,” I tell him. “He did. You can only hurt me so many times. Besides, ghetto bitches like me don’t get happy endings. Well, unless you pay for them, but hell, you’d be lucky if she spoke English and washed her hands first.”
“The fuck are you going on about?”
“When the streets is watching, blocks keep clockin’. Waiting for you to break, make your first mistake.”
“Did you just freestyle? That’s was fucking horrible.”
“Pssh,” I say, hiccupping. “That was Jay-Z.”
“Hey, Boss? What was it like?”
“What was what like?”
“Being married. Loving someone enough to say I’ll give you the rest of my life, and I’m fucking trusting you with it.”
“When it was us, it was indescribable. I’ve never had him long enough to get sick of him or find out if he farts in his sleep. Always hoped I would, though. Not fart in his sleep, but get to see his quirks. I’ll love him as long as live, Bishop. For me, it’s him. Even if, he doesn’t feel the same.”
“You can get back to that,” he says, rubbing my back, which feels amazing.
“I’m going to tell you something,” I say, sitting up, looking him in all of his eyes. “The day I said yes, I thought for once I was important. I promised to always put him first, and I did. He promised the same. And ya know what? If someone is too good to be true, they are probably fucking named Maxwell Allen.”
“Boss…”
“He fucking lied about loving me!” I yell to the ceiling. “You can lie about a lot of shit, tell me my ass looks great when it doesn’t, cheat on your taxes, or jaywalk, but you don’t lie about love, ever. It’s a rule somewhere. Don’t think I didn’t know he lied about another woman; I’m not that fucking dumb. It’s the lengths he would go to hurt me that guts me. He used every single insecurity I have to push me away. He’s a god damn quitter! I loved him with everything I had, which granted wasn’t much to begin with because I’m nobody, but I was his nobody, god dammit. Loving someone is easy! Leaving the one you love should be impossible! But he did, didn’t he? Every decision I have ever made since the day I met him was made with him in mind. To have that thrown in my face, to be lied to by him even if it was to protect me… hurts. Did you know I’ve only been with him? Him. One guy, that’s it. That’s all I wanted. He said he has someone and wants to get back to that without being married to me hanging over his fucking head. I have thousands of knives plunged into my heart right now, Bishop. You want love? You think you’re missing out? Wrong!”
Now that I’m all riled up, I get in his face. “Fuck love, fuck doing the right thing, and fuck him. Don’t you ever let someone have this kind of hold on you, Bishop. It isn’t worth it.”
When the tears come I can’t contain them, or the nausea that follows. Whispering to him while I stare at the moving floor, I let the pain take over. “My heart beat for him, Bishop; my lungs took air for him. Every mission, every bust was so he could sleep safe at night. I told myself I was doing something good. I gave him everything, and in minutes he took it all away. He called it taking
out the trash, the cockfucker! Oh shit that came out wrong, I’m sorry!”
Sobbing in earnest because the feelings of being a failure are just too much, I latch onto Bishop, willing him to make it better or to end it, I’m not sure which. “I didn’t mean that how it sounded please don’t be mad at me.”
“Boss,” he says wiping my tears “Cockfucker might be my new favorite word. You get points for that.”
A hysterical laugh escapes then I’m back to crying again. “All I ever wanted was to be loved back. I wanted to be his reason for waking up. Now what do I do? I’m not his reason for anything, except standing in his way. If I’m not his wife anymore, who am I?”
Then for my grand finale, I throw up in the wastebasket and pass the fuck out.
“What, Boss?” “Hey, Bishop?” she asks, cutting my steak for me. She always does that weird shit, but it seems to make her happy, so I don’t say nothin’ about it. Once less thing I gotta do. Plus, for some reason it tastes better when she does it.
“You would tell me if you were gay, right?”
“Fuck off,” I tell her, taking her carrots.
“Is that a yes?” she asks, batting her eyelashes at me. I ain’t ashamed of being gay but, if I could feel something for the female variety, I’d want it to be for her.
“Fuck off,” I tell her again.
“Copy that, Bishop,” she says, stealing a carrot back and smiling for me. “Fucking off.”
Once she’s tucked in tight, I leave her with the wastebasket and her phone in case she wakes up and needs anything. I don’t intend on being gone long enough to get a call, but better safe than sorry. Can’t imagine it’s going to take long to beat the ever loving shit out of that fucker, and be back before she wakes up feeling like cockfucker.
