Greetings from Sugartown

by Carmen Jenner

  “Ana, I know you’re in there.”

  I whimper, and cover my mouth to keep the sound from escaping. It comes out anyway, a horrified, animal sob.

  “I just want to talk to you.” He pounds on the stall door, gently at first, but his anger increases the longer I hold out. “I’m not here to hurt you,” he yells. It sounds as if he’s biting out the words through clenched teeth. It sounds very much like he wants to hurt me. Again.

  “Fuck!” He smacks his fist into the door. The old, painted particle board rattles with the force of the blow. Its rusty hinges groan in protest, but they hold strong through his assault. “Fine. Have it your way.” He spits, and steps away from the door. I wait with muscles tensed and my heartbeat pounding in my ears. I wait until I hear the sound of his sneakers squeaking against the dirty tile as he moves away from my cubicle. The bathroom door opens, the noise of the pub’s patrons filters in, and the door whines shut behind him.

  Nausea hits me like a sledgehammer. I quickly climb down from the toilet seat, lift the lid and vomit into the bowl. Acid burns my throat, and tears spill over and sting my hot face before glancing off the edge of my clamped jaw. When I’m done, I pull paper from the roll and blow my nose. I wipe beneath my eyes, ignoring the black smudges that come away, and then I take a second to breathe before I stand and adjust my clothes, making sure they contain no trace of the contents of my stomach.

  I slide back the bolt, open the door, and come face to face with Scott.

  I gasp, take a step back, and try to slam the door in his face but he already has hold of my shoulders. His fingers dig in, punishing, so much like that night. “I just wanna to talk to you, Ana.”

  “Let me go,” I whisper.

  “Come on, Blondie,” he implores. His fingers dig in further with each word. “I didn’t mean for it to go that far. I’m sorry. Fuck. I went to jail for it. They locked me up like a fucking dog for four years and you can’t even talk to me for five minutes?”

  He shakes me. Not hard, just enough to let me feel he’s still in control. I can’t breathe. I suck in each breath as though it’s my last. The part of my brain that’s still functioning through this panic attack notices that Scott’s hair has shifted—it’s not plastered to his face anymore, and I can’t see past that angry scar that labels him for what he is. A rapist. My rapist.

  The bathroom door opens again.

  “The fuck?” Holly says, sounding every bit as horrified to see him here as I feel.

  Scott startles, and I wrench free of his grip and shove myself back into the stall, slamming the door shut and leaning against it with all of my weight.

  “Get away from her, you fuck!” Holly screams.

  I can’t think straight. I slide down the stall door and ram my fingers in my ears, willing it all away. For the first time since I learned what Elijah had done, I wish he’d gone through with what he’d set out to do that night. I wish he’d put a bullet through Scott’s head so I wouldn’t ever have to come face to face with him again. I finally understood the risks he’d taken, the sacrifices he’d made for me, and I wish it were enough.

  I wish he’d done more.

  I LIE in bed with Ana safely tucked in my arms. I haven’t slept a wink. All night. My fist throbs like a bitch. I didn’t know what the fuck had happened when she’d dropped her phone, but I jumped in the van and broke every speed limit between home and the pub. Kristine had called me after Ana’s phone had cut out. I nearly ran off the road when she said Ana was locked in the bathroom. I kept seeing the worst possible scenarios in my head.

  Was she hurt?

  Was she sick?

  Stalking into that bathroom, I didn’t know what I expected to find, but it sure as hell wasn’t what I walked in on. That cocksucker was parked outside the stall door in the women’s toilets while Holly and Kristine wailed on him. I did what anyone would have done: I pulled the crazy ranga midget off him, and nailed his arse to the grimy floor. It took Dave and several other patrons to pull me off him.

  I spat on that floor beside his bloody face, and gave him a hard kick in the nuts, plus one in the ribs for good measure. He was carted out of there by Dave the Publican, and booted out on his arse. When everyone had cleared out, I tapped on the door to the occupied stall.

  “Open up, baby girl.”

  The sobbing started up again and I leaned against the painted yet peeling wood. “Come on, Ana, he’s gone.”

  She slowly opened the bathroom door, and took in my ruffled appearance at the same time as I took in her red eyes and blotchy face, and then she launched herself into my arms and sobbed uncontrollably. I tucked her head into my shoulder, lifted her up, and carried her out past the gawking bystanders. As much as I loved this town, sometimes I hated it too.

  Tomorrow, the first thing I’m going to do is go see Sergeant Davis. Why the fuck weren’t we told about his early release? Those arseholes couldn’t give her a heads up? Jesus Christ, she ran into him at the bar, and he followed her into the bathroom. She must have been terrified, and I wasn’t there to protect her. Someone’s gonna fucking pay for this shit, and I can tell you right now it won’t be her.

  It’s only when she shifts in my arms that I realise I’m shaking the bed with rage.

  She flinches in her sleep, and then jolts awake, wrenching herself from my arms with a scream that curdles my blood. I sit up beside her and gently rest my hand on her back, stroking slowly.

  “Hey, you’re safe.”

  Fuck. She hasn’t had a nightmare in I-don’t-know-how-long. I guess being confronted with your rapist will do that to you.

  “Tell me it’s a bad dream, Elijah.”

  I pull her into my arms, and press a kiss to her hair. “Wish I could, baby girl.”

  She cries into my chest, these horrible gut-wrenching sobs that just about eat me alive. If I had a do-over, there are so many things I’d do differently to spare her the hurt she’s feeling now. The first thing I’d do is take that fucker out while I had the chance. And as I lay there with her crying in my arms, I hate myself all over again for being such a pussy. I’d do anything to make this right, to make her happy, keep her safe. I’d kill that fucker a hundred times over before I ever let him near her again.

  We sit in front of Constable Jameson’s desk. I’m fucking fuming. Ana’s putting on a brave face, but I wish she wouldn’t. These arseholes need to see the shit she went through this morning and last night. Running into him like that fucking destroyed her, and we were given no warning whatsoever?

  “Look, I know what you’re saying, but it doesn’t make this shit okay. We should have been warned. She ran into him in a packed bar, and he followed her into the bathroom. Do you have any idea how fucking terrifying that shit is for her?”

  “I’ve apologised for the lapse. With Sergeant Davis on leave, things like this have a way of falling by the wayside.”

  “You think I give a shit about how busy your office is? This is in-fucking-excusable. You think just because he got a get-out-of-jail-free card that’s he’s not going to fucking try again with her, or with someone else? You saw the bruises on her arms. He broke his fucking parole, he put his hands on her, for Christ’s sake. And you bastards aren’t going to do anything to protect her?”

  “I know you’re angry, but I’ll ask you to refrain from using that language, Mr Cade.”

  Ana pats my thigh, and gives me a gloomy smile. “It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not,” I bellow, and lean forward on my elbows. “I wanna know what the hell you’re going to do to keep her safe from that fucker?”

  “The restraining order is still in place—”

  “A piece of paper? That’s what you’re giving us to protect her? We both know that doesn’t do shit.”

  “Mr Turner has been issued a warning for last night’s antics. Unless he violates it again, there is nothing we can do.”

  “Bull-fucking-shit. The only reason you won’t do anything is because Turner money funds your police barbequ
es every damn Sunday. Daddy’s money lines the pockets of most of the businesses in this shithole town, including the mayor’s. Slap him with a misdemeanour, fucking run him outta town, do something so that I don’t wind up putting a gun through his fucking face.”

  “Elijah!”

  “Not smart, Kid.”

  “Yeah, neither is letting a rapist walk free, but I’m just an ex-con, so what the hell do I know?” My chair scrapes against the lino as I spring to my feet and stomp toward the door.

  “Thanks for trying to help,” Ana says as she stands up and follows me. That’s the woman I love—polite to the bitter end, even if it winds up killing her.

  We step out into the blindly bright winter sunshine. I’m fuming so bad I’m practically vibrating, but I pull her to me anyway, and run my palms up and down her arms. “We’re gonna fix this, baby girl. Even if I have to run him outta town myself.”

  She stiffens in my embrace and wipes her eyes. “I just … I don’t want you doing anything stupid.”

  “I’m not going inside again, if that’s what you mean?”

  “I can’t lose you, Elijah.”

  “I can’t have you hurt again, so I guess we’re just gonna have to agree to disagree.”

  “No, we’re not.” She pulls back to search my face. “Promise me you won’t do anything here. I overreacted last night. I doubt he’s going to wittingly break that AVO and land himself back in jail.”

  “Jesus, Ana. Are you listening to yourself? That fucker raped and beat you. He cornered you last night—he should still be in the clink, and these arseholes aren’t going to do a thing about it.”

  “Trust me, no one remembers that more than me.” Her voice breaks. “I don’t want you doing anything that’s going to take you away from me, from our lives. Would you just try and think about that for me, please? Just think about us before you do something you’ll regret.”

  I exhale loudly. “Fine.”

  “Can we not talk about this today? Can we just go do something, just you and I? It’s a beautiful day, and we’re both not at work for a change. Let’s go somewhere no one knows us.”

  “You wanna get outta town, huh?”

  “Please.”

  “Alright.” I take her face in my hands and place a kiss to her cold nose. “But I get to drive.”

  “Was there ever another option?”

  “Not really, no.” I grin.

  I jump on the bike, and twist the throttle when I feel Ana slide on behind me. Then we roar off down the road. An hour or so later, we’re pulling into the main street of a beachside town with a lot more people than Sugartown. We get fish and chips, and I pull a blanket from the saddlebag, and we sit on the headland overlooking the ocean. Neither of us talk about Scott for the rest of the day, and though all that shit’s still very much there in the back of my head, I push it aside for her. I let it stew in the darkest recesses of my mind, and instead I take her in my arms, and we laugh and lay in the sunshine until she sighs and says we should head back.

  “We don’t have to.”

  Ana gives a humourless laugh. “Yes, we do. We have work, and the house, and Sammy. Plus, left to her own devices, Holly would likely scare off all our clientele.”

  “Good point.” I sigh and sit up. “Do you ever just wanna wish it all away? Just pack up and start over somewhere new?”

  “All the time, and not at all.” She smiles at me, and I tuck her hair behind her ear.

  “Me too.”

  “I mean, even if we had nothing to hold us back, what would we do?”

  “Well, I’m only good at one thing, but I can fix cars anywhere.”

  “You’re good at more than just one thing.”

  “True, but hiring myself out as a male prostitute wouldn’t sit well with the missus. She’s funny that way.” I wink, and she slaps at my chest. “What would you want to do?”

  She shrugs. “I don’t know. All I know how to do is bake, so I guess it’d be the same as living in Sugartown, only we’d be all alone.”

  “We’d have each other.”

  “We would, and Sammy, because he’d likely drive Dad crazy missing you.”

  “I have a feeling he’d miss his sister, too. She is pretty incredible.”

  She laughs, and then her eyes grow dark and the corners of her mouth turn down. “How do we do this? I don’t know how to live in the same town as him. I don’t—”

  “Hey, we’ll get through it. I’m not gonna let him come within a hundred feet of you. I don’t care if I have to stay glued to your side for the rest of my days. He can’t ever touch you again. You got that? I’m never gonna let him hurt you.”

  She nods, but I don’t know if she really believes it. I’ll just have to find a way to prove it to her.

  I’M DREAMING about shoving my cock in Ana’s sweet pussy from behind, when she shifts on the bed beneath me and whispers, “Baby, wake up.”

  “I am awake,” I grunt and thrust harder. Obviously I’m not fucking her hard enough if she thinks I’m half-asleep. She squeaks as I ram in to the hilt, my heavy balls slapping against her slick cunt.

  “You wanna see awake?” I ask, driving in again.

  I take my finger and push it into her arsehole, and she cries out, “Ow. Would you cut it out, please?”

  I blink down at her. She’s never had any complaints about arse-play before. When I open my eyes again, she’s lying on the bed beside me. My dick is no longer buried in her wet heat—it’s tucked safely under the blankets, and it’s rock-fucking-hard. She slaps my face and grips my shoulders, shaking me. “Wake up, you pervert. There’s someone in the shed.”

  “I just cleaned out the shed yesterday,” I mumble and roll on top of her, attempting to pick up where I left off. I run my fingers up the inside of her thigh, cupping her soft arse with my hand and inching my way to her hole.

  “Elijah! Stop trying to shove your fingers in my arse and get up! There’s someone on our property, and I’m not going to die because you wanna make all your degenerate sex dreams come true,” she whisper-yells from beneath me, gently slapping my face from side to side for good measure.

  “Mmm her.” I groan and roll off. The room is still dark, and the DayGlo green from the alarm clock sears my eyes. “What the fuck, baby?”

  “There’s someone in the shed.”

  “I’m up.” I sigh and swing my legs off the bed, nearly tripping as I slide into a pair of sleep pants that I never use for sleeping.

  “Do you think you could maybe go sometime today?”

  “Woman, I’m going.” I shake my head to clear it, and wipe the crusts from my eyes as I make for the door.

  “You don’t wanna take the baseball bat?” she asks, and the panic in her voice makes me pause. “Babe, it’s probably just a possum. What are you doing up at this hour, anyway?”

  “I couldn’t sleep. I went to the kitchen to get a drink of water, only I looked out at the shed and the door was opened.”

  “I probably just forgot to lock up.”

  “There was a light on inside.”

  “Maybe I forgot to turn it off.”

  “Oh, well that explains why it went off when I turned the kitchen light on.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck rise all at once. “Fuck.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Call the station and lock yourself in the bathroom,” I say, and quietly slip through the house to the kitchen. The lights are off, and Ana bumps into my back as she tiptoes along behind me, wielding the wooden baseball bat. “Baby girl, I need you out of sight.”

  “I’m not letting you go out there by yourself. What if they have a gun?”

  “It’s Sugartown. No one but Dave has a gun.”

  “You had a gun.”

  “Yes, but I stole it from a gang of bikers hell-bent on killing me for revenge.”

  “Good point,” she says, but she’s still following me too closely.

  “Ana. Cops. Now.”

  “Fine.” She palms her phone
from the side table, and tiptoes off toward the kitchen.

  I quietly unlock the front door and step out into the freezing winter air. Frost covers everything, and the fog is just as thick. The cold bites into my exposed flesh and the soles of my feet as I sneak across the porch boards, and onto the freezing grass.

  I swing the bat up onto my shoulder, and creep across the lawn towards the garage. Inside, there’s definitely movement. I hear it loud and clear: some fucker is hiding inside our shed.

  A head pops out of the dark doorway, glancing back and forth between the house and the drive, checking that the coast is clear. I lean back against the side of the building to avoid being seen. The fucker comes sneaking out, unaware of my presence. I slink closer. He slides the deadbolt across the door behind him, and turns to stare up at the house. That’s when my bat meets his face. The angle is all wrong, and my limbs have no gusto in them on account of the cold, but he still staggers from the blow.

  “Fuck!” he gasps and then drops his stuff, and bolts down the unsealed drive. I hightail it after him. I’ve never really been a runner, despite my long legs. I’m kinda huge, which evidently slows me down, but I’m clearly faster than this douche, because within seconds I’ve caught up to him and I’m pinning him on the ground.

  I roll him over and take a swing at his face, right where I beat him with the bat. He cries out, and puts his hands up in order to ward of my blows. “Stop it.”

  “What the fuck are you doing on my property?”

  “Ethan, stop!” he shouts and my blood turns cold. Only a handful of people know me by that name, and none of them are people I want knowing where I live. “Please?” he begs, holding his hands up to ward me off.

  I hold my arm back mid-swing and it drops to my side. “Kick?”

  “You arsehole. You fucking broke my nose … again.”