The Devil Don't Sleep

by Janine Infante Bosco

  I had barely nodded in agreement when Ryder came bounding down the stairs. Bas helped serve him a slice of pizza and told him we were going to drop him off at Uncle Jack’s for a play date with Danny. After Bas showered, and I unpacked the groceries, we piled into his truck and headed for Jack and Reina’s. Midway, Bas turned to me and suggested we keep in line with tradition and take the truck back to the house after we drop Ryder off and ride his motorcycle.

  Still not a fan of riding, I reminded him that this truck was just as much a part of any tradition of ours. Before leather jackets and jacked up Harley’s, there was me, him and this truck. There was also the back seat and the flatbed, both of which were very prominent in the early years of Mac and Bas, but I left that part out.

  Pulling into Jack’s driveway, Bas’ phone started to ring which reminded me I needed to get a new phone and program his number. Ignoring the call, he promised he’d take me to Verizon first thing in the morning. Jack and Reina welcomed Ryder with open arms and assured me he would be fine. It wasn’t lost on me at how warm these people were or how easy it was to trust them. I told myself the obvious reason was that they were the polar opposite of everything I was used to. Unlike Milly and Crank, Jack and Reina care about their people.

  Alone in the car, Bas got quiet and seemed lost in his thoughts. I started to wonder if he was having second thoughts and was about to tell him we didn’t have to do this. My nerves were doing a number on me and I felt the impending anxiety attack take root deep inside me. The past wasn’t going anywhere. Nor were my secrets. They were one with me now and would still be there tomorrow.

  “Bas—”

  The sound of his phone interrupts me and I glance at the console between us, to where the screen illuminates and lights the whole cab in shades of blue.

  “Fuck,” he growls, taking the phone. Hitting the switch to silence it, he drops it back down in the cupholder.

  “We don’t have to do this,” I say softly.

  “Yeah, we do,” he retorts.

  The phone lights up again and this time he accepts the call as he lifts it to his ear.

  “What is it?” he growls into the phone. Curiously, I strain my ears to try to make out the caller. He slams his hand against the steering wheel, causing me to jump slightly. I’m brought back to the night we shared in the motel and the call he received then. I asked him if there was someone waiting for him back home, a question he never answered.

  “You better not be fucking with me,” he says before he goes quiet again and the caller says something else.

  “I’ll be right there,” he adds before ending the call and tossing it back in the console. My lips part to ask if everything is okay just as he whips a sharp U-turn and I go sliding into the door.

  “Jesus Christ, Bas.”

  “Sorry,” he mutters as I brace both hands against the dashboard. “I have to swing by my apartment.”

  “Did something happen?”

  “Maybe.”

  Another vague answer.

  However, he looks like he’s about to lose his shit and so, I decided not to argue. I also fasten my fucking seatbelt. Five minutes later we pull in front of an oversized apartment complex. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before but then again, a lot of New York is like nowhere else. Still, I can’t help but stare, taking in the people hanging around the streetlamps and the fire escapes outside every window.

  Bas kills the engine on the truck and turns to me, pointing towards the glovebox.

  “Lock the doors and do not get out of the car,” he warns. “If I’m not back in ten minutes, use my phone to call Jack and tell him to come to get you from my apartment. There’s a piece in the glovebox if anyone fucks with you, don’t hesitate to use it.”

  Now, any sane woman would be scared.

  I wasn’t.

  In fact, I’m almost certain we’ve had some variation of this conversation before. Instead of calling Jack, it was Mooney I was ordered to call and there was a piece in the glovebox then too. A brand new forty-five if I remember correctly.

  “Ten minutes,” he reiterates as he gets out of the truck and slams the door. My eyes follow him down the walkway leading to the complex until he disappears inside. Sitting there, I start to fidget and move to turn on the radio. Remembering the car was off, I reach over the console to turn the key in the ignition but pause when I spot his phone.

  Biting my lip, I lean back in my seat and try to tame my curiosity. I’ve never been the girl who looks at someone’s phone. When we were together, I trusted Bas completely and with Junior, I just didn’t give a fuck. I felt it was an invasion of privacy and a desperate move. However, I had zero fucks left to give and desperation was now my middle name. Taking the phone, I swipe at the screen only for karma to hit and ask me for a passcode.

  So much for desperation and curiosity.

  Putting the phone back, I lean back again and stare out the window. In the next five minutes, I witness a couple having sex against a wall and a drug deal. Bas’ neighbors were colorful for lack of better words. I might not have been living it up in Kentucky, but neither was he. Soulmates through and through, we were both slumming it.

  Another five minutes pass before I lose my patience and start to panic. The instructions Bas gave me flee my mind and I grab the keys before opening my door. As I start for the building, I scan the curious stares directed at me and hear the catcalls. Ignoring both, I enter the lobby and realize I have no idea what apartment is his.

  As I turn to leave, out of the corner of my eye I spot rows of mailboxes lining a wall. Each mailbox appoints a last name to an apartment number. Scanning name after name, I find Bas’ and match it to his number. I take the stairs, making my way to his floor. Reaching the landing, I round the corner and walk the narrow hallway to his apartment.

  Standing in front of the door, I hear his muffled voice and notice it’s slightly ajar. Not knowing what I might find on the other side, I freeze and debate on turning around.

  Why is it we’re always drawn to the things that have the ability to ruin us?

  Why do we never listen to our instincts?

  Turn around, Mac.

  Go back to the car.

  I should’ve walked away.

  I should’ve stayed in the car and counted the fire escapes on the building.

  Instead, I push the door open and stare in horror as Bas stands at the foot of his bed in front of a naked woman kneeling on the edge of the bed, unbuckling his belt while she sucks on his neck. The bile rises in my throat as the woman lifts her eyes to mine. Her mouth doesn’t let up. If anything, she sucks harder, leaving her mark.

  On him and on me.

  He speaks but I can’t make out what he says over the ringing in my ears.

  Lunging forward, I grab the back of his shirt and twist it in my fist, pulling him out of her reach.

  “You son of a bitch!”

  Red.

  It’s all I see.

  Until he turns around and then all I see is blue.

  His blue eyes hold mine as he wraps his hands around my wrists.

  “Stop,” he shouts.

  “Stop?” I shriek. “That’s what you say?”

  “It’s her,” the naked bitch says behind him.

  “Shut the fuck up, Dori,” Bas growls, tightening his hold on my flailing wrists.

  “Get your fucking hands off me,” I holler.

  “Calm down and I will,” he grinds out.

  Nostrils flaring, I pull away with all my might causing me to stumble backward. Balancing myself, I glare at him as I take a step away from him.

  “Was this your plan all along?”

  “If you would shut the fuck up, I’ll explain—”

  “Explain?” I screech. “I should let you explain yourself?” I ask incredulously. “All I’ve asked of you is for a chance to fucking explain myself, but you don’t give a fuck. You’re blinded by hate and the only thing you give a damn about is revenge. You want to hurt me as badly as I hu
rt you. Isn’t that right?” I spat. “That was your plan wasn’t it? Take Ryder to Jack’s and make me think I will finally get my chance to tell my side of the story. The trip down memory lane was a real nice touch. Leaving me in the car while you got your dick sucked—not so much.”

  “That’s not what fucking happened,” he roars, reaching to grab my wrist again.

  Taking another step back, I glance behind him at the woman staring between us.

  God forgive me, but she’s not even pretty.

  “Fuck you,” she hisses.

  “Oh, did I say that out loud?” I mock before slicing my eyes back to Bas. “We’re finally even.”

  Without another word, I turn around and storm out of the apartment. He calls out after me, but I take off, letting my legs carry me as quickly as they can down the stairs. The sound of his boots pounding each step trail behind me. I ignore his curses and his demands to stop running and flee the complex.

  Hitting the pavement, my adrenaline spikes and I run.

  I have no idea where I am or where I’m going but that doesn’t stop me.

  All I want to do escape.

  Escape the tears falling from my eyes.

  Escape Bas.

  Escape love, pain and suffering.

  I want to escape my life.

  Horn’s blare as I run into the street right in front of oncoming traffic. It startles me and forces me to come to grips with myself. Reaching the sidewalk, I bend over and brace my hands on my knees, drawing deep breaths in and out. The ringing in my ears grows louder and as I lift my head. Bas’ truck pulls onto the sidewalk. He gets out of the truck and leaves the door open as he rushes towards me.

  “You almost got hit by a fucking bus.” He shouts in my face and still it sounds like a whisper.

  The tears roll fast and furious as I stare up at him.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” he spats.

  “I hate you,” I whisper through the sob strangling my throat. “I hate you so much.”

  This is the part where he tells me he hates me too.

  That this is all my fault.

  He’s supposed to ridicule me and demean me.

  Curse me and call me filthy names.

  He’s supposed to rear his hand back.

  I’ll see it coming and still, I’ll flinch.

  The sting of his hand against my cheek will feel like fire spreading across my skin.

  I’ll cry and beg him not to do it again.

  I’ll tell him Ryder is watching.

  I’ll close my eyes and beg for someone to rescue me.

  I’ll imagine a pair of strong arms.

  An embrace that always made me feel safe.

  “It’s okay,” he whispers. “I’m here, now.”

  The ringing fades and I lift my head.

  This time, the hero isn’t a figment of my imagination.

  He’s real and made of flesh and man.

  My knees buckle as sobs wretch from the back of my throat.

  “Bas,” I rasp.

  Pulling me against him, he wraps me in his arms and buries his face in my hair.

  “I’m here.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Sometimes giving someone a second chance to hurt you is like giving them an extra bullet because they missed the first shot. Running after Mac may result in her obliterating me, but I couldn’t let her go. Forget the fact she was in a foreign place and knew no one other than me, I couldn’t ignore the hurt in her eyes. I don’t know if I’ll ever get over her.

  If I’ll ever stop running after her, to her or from her.

  If I’ll ever stop giving a damn.

  Seeing her so upset, watching as she ran into oncoming traffic, it took years off my fucking life. That was nothing though. I’ll take the shorter sentence if it means never having to see her fall apart like she did when I reached her. It was like she was having some out of body experience. One minute she was there with me, the next she was somewhere dark and far away.

  Girl cracked my heart wide open right then and there.

  Split my fucking soul in two.

  By some fucking miracle of God, I got her in the car but there was no mistaking that was the last pardon from the big guy upstairs. The flames were climbing, and that fucker down below was waking up from his slumber.

  Stopping at the nearest liquor store, I get out of the car and make my way to the passenger side. Pulling open her door, I lean over and unbuckle her seat belt.

  “What’re you doing?”

  Her voice is hoarse from all the hollering she did.

  “You can’t be trusted to sit in a car by yourself,” I hiss, taking her hand. Once I get her out of the car, I kick the door closed with my foot and link our fingers together. We enter the liquor store and I make a beeline straight for the whiskey section. Grabbing a bottle of fireball from the shelf, I turn to her.

  “Wine or tequila?”

  “I guess ice cream is out the window,” she mutters, snatching her hand away. Crossing her arms over her chest, she shakes her head and lifts her bloodshot eyes to mine. “I don’t want anything.”

  “Suit yourself,” I say, making my way to the counter. She follows me but keeps a safe distance between us. Like I’m still reeling from her outburst, I’m sure she is too. But while my gears crank trying to make sense of everything I just witnessed, she backpedals, pretending like she didn’t just have some sort of fucking episode in the middle of the street.

  Like she didn’t just break down in my fucking arms.

  After paying for the booze, I grab the bag and lead her out of the store. The ride back to the house is quiet. It isn’t until we’re inside and I flick the lights on that she turns to me and finally speaks.

  “I’m going to bed,” she rasps. “I’d really appreciate it if you would pick up Ryder. If he asks for me just tell him I’m not feeling well.”

  “You ain’t going to bed and Ryder is just fine where he is,” I tell her. “What happened back there, can’t happen again.”

  She nods.

  “You’re right,” she says, pausing to swallow. I imagine her throat burns something fierce from they way she screamed at me. “It had no business happening once and it won’t happen again,” she assures me. “You were being nice,” she continues. “I let myself get carried away with the past—”

  “Oh, for crying out loud would you cut the bullshit?” I grind out, clenching my jaw. “Sit down, Mac.”

  “I told you, I want to go to bed. Please, I just want to forget this happened.”

  “Newsflash, baby, it don’t work that way,” I inform her, stepping closer to her. “You think I haven’t spent the last six years trying to forget? Tonight happened, and it’s just another night you and I can’t undo. Now, sit down, pour yourself a drink if you think it will help, but neither one of us are going to bed until we fucking speak our piece.”

  “We tried that already, and it didn’t work. It’s not going to work now either because all I see when I look at you is that woman. I know it’s not my place to be jealous—”

  “No, it’s not,” I interrupt, unscrewing the top of the fireball. I’m sure there’s a bunch of fancy glasses hidden in one of these cabinets but I’m not about to leave her alone with her thoughts to go search for one. Instead, I lift the bottle to my lips and take a swig before outstretching my hand and offering it to her. When she doesn’t take it, I take another gulp. My hand tightens around the bottle as the fiery liquid slides smoothly down my throat and takes the edge off.

  “Let’s stop pretending Dori is the issue here,” I tell her.

  “Dori,” she repeats. “That’s her name.”

  “Mac,” I warn.

  There is no use in wasting time talking about a junkie who I sometimes fuck to forget the woman standing in front of me. The only reason I went to the apartment in the first place is because she told me someone had broken in. Dori knew she could’ve called to tell me she was on fire and I would’ve told her to hang up and call 9-1-1.
The bitch played me.

  “All these years, I’ve told myself you were off living your best life. That you had moved on from us and found everything we were meant to have, with someone else. Someone who was better capable of loving you in the ways I couldn’t when it came to your lifestyle. Somebody who could fix the mess I left behind. Telling myself one thing and seeing that thing for myself…in front of my own eyes, it’s too much, Bas.”

  Shaking her head, she lifts her trembling hand to her mouth.

  “I can’t do this,” she murmurs.

  “Careful, Mac, you almost sound like you have regrets,” I bite back, the words bitter on my tongue.

  Her eyes darken as her fingers fall from her lips.

  “You think I don’t have regrets?” she spats in disbelief. “I loved you more than I ever thought a person could possibly love someone!”

  “Then why the fuck did you throw it all away?” I roar. “Because this is how I see it…I had a fucking girl in my life I loved with every fiber of my being. A fucking girl who swore to stick by my side through thick and thin. It was supposed to be you and me against the world, baby,” I say. My voice strains with emotion, causing me to pause and take a breath. “When I signed the plea deal that sent me to prison, I knew five years was a long time for us to be a part. I knew it was a lot to ask of you, but you were my Mac. If anyone could handle my obligations, it was you and you handled it like a fucking champ, showing up for every visit, writing me letters and making sure my commissary was always full. I was the envy of every fucking guy doing a bid in that shithole and counted down the days until I would be free, knowing the first fucking thing I would do was take you to City Hall and marry you.”

  “Stop,” she begs, tears filling her swollen eyes.

  I don’t stop.

  Can’t stop.

  Won’t stop.

  Not until I know why we ended the way we did.

  Not until I know why she chose Junior over me.

  Not until I know why she lost her shit in the street.

  Not until I prove Ally wrong.

  “Then about six months before they released me, I stopped counting down. Four and a half years, I served four and a half fucking years and the last six months were the longest stretch of my life because you weren’t there. You stopped showing up, stopped taking my fucking calls. It was like you fucking died.”