by Lena North
“I’ll call Carson. He’ll kill them. Kit and Miller will help –”
“Nobody will kill anyone,” I interrupted him, firmly and immediately because it was sweet of him to be so angry on my behalf, but everyone really needed to stop talking about killing people.
He was about to protest when a nurse came into the room.
“Last dinner in this place for you,” she said with a cheeky smile as she placed a tray on the table next to my bed. Then she nodded at Bo and left again.
Well, shit, I thought.
“They’re letting you leave tomorrow?” Bo asked.
“Um,” I said, hoping that he’d leave it with that.
“Are you going to Double H or Marshes?” he inquired.
“Um,” I repeated.
“Mary,” he said sternly.
“I want to go home,” I said.
“Why?”
“Um,” I repeated.
“That is an uncommonly stupid sound, my girl,” he stated, and continued, “I don’t know why you’re not going to your girls, but it doesn’t matter.”
“Okay,” I said weakly, thankful that he wouldn’t push me about it.
That feeling disappeared quickly, though.
“You’re coming home with me. I’ll see if I can’t get you out already tonight,” Bo said happily. I tried to protest, but he talked right over me, “Carson is on his way home as we speak and he’ll stay. We’ll keep you safe.”
“Boz, I can’t –” I started, but he was on the move and turned in the door to put a hand up with a little of his usual flourish.
“I don’t care, Mary-contrary. That’s what will happen, so put that godawful goo away. Tonight you’re eating Carson’s food, and we’ll change that butt of yours from scrawny to cow-sized in no time.”
I stared at the door that closed behind him, and since I knew Bo, I didn’t for a second doubt that he’d cajole someone into discharging me within the hour. I sighed and moved over to pack up the few things my girls had brought for me. I’d not been wrong, and I fell asleep in the soft car-seat next to an ecstatic Bozo who was calling everyone we knew, telling them gleefully that they were all welcome to the Draper-Keeghan residence whenever they wanted to see me because he’d broken me out of the hoosegow. He made it sound as if we’d gone through the window and crept down the fire escape, instead of the much more mundane exit we’d made through the main entrance, and he sounded so happy. After half the phone calls he started calling their home Casa Draper-Keeghan, which was a bit of a mouthful even for him, so he promptly shortened it to Casa Drake.
“Huh,” he muttered and glanced at me. “That’s a pretty cool name actually. Drake.”
I smiled and felt how I slowly relaxed, and closed my eyes.
Cha
pter Six
Carson and Bo
It took them precisely one hour and fourteen minutes to figure out that I was afraid of the dark.
Carson had food on the table within minutes of our arrival at their house, and I ate until my belly was full. And then I reached for some more.
“You liked?” Carson chuckled.
“Yeah,” I smiled as I put more food on my plate. “Huge step up from the trays they gave me in that –” I cut myself off because they were suddenly frowning, so I added lamely, “Sorry…”
I knew that they weren’t angry with me, but I’d ruined the good mood by bringing up the place I’d been in.
“Honey-bunny, don’t apologize,” Bo said softly. “You know we’ll listen if you want to talk, and we’ll get help for you if you need it.”
“I know,” I smiled, and added firmly, “I’m good. I feel fine, and it might come up again, but I really don’t want to talk about it.”
“It might be good for you if you did,” Carson muttered.
“Nothing good comes from re-hashing the past,” I stated firmly. “And the quickest way for you to get me to leave is to bring in a shrink.”
They looked uncertain, but I had talked to enough counselors in my life, and it had never done me any good, so I wasn’t about to try it again.
“Did you put cheese on the potatoes?” I asked Carson.
He hesitated, and I saw how they exchanged a look, but then he smiled. “Goat cheese, mixed up with a little sour cream and garlic.”
“Fantastico,” I said with a wink to Bo, who immediately straightened.
“That’s Carson,” he said in a voice that was just a little too animated. “Fantastico is what he is, so it should really be his middle name instead of that awful one his parents gave him, now that I think of it.”
I raised my brows and waited.
“Yeah, yeah,” Carson sighed finally. “Calvagh.”
“What?” I breathed.
“I know,” Bo giggled. “And do you know what it means?”
Since I didn’t, I shook my head mutely.
“Bald.”
I tried not to laugh, although since Bo clearly was enjoying himself and Carson’s mouth quivered, I didn’t try for long.
“I was when I was born,” Carson explained and shook his head a little from side to side, so his thick gray hair moved. “That changed.”
“Can I call you CK?” I asked.
Bo burst out laughing hysterically.
“It’s spelled with a C baby-doll,” he choked out.
I blinked. That would make it…
“Cee-Cee?” I asked stupidly because of course, it would be.
“I know!” Bo shouted. “Have you ever heard a gayer nickname in your life?”
I hadn’t, actually.
“What name did they give Miller?” I asked curiously.
This made both men laugh loudly, and I blinked. What on earth could his parents have come up with?
“He isn’t called Miller,” Carson said finally.
“I know. His real name is Milvus,” I said.
We’d learned this a while back, and it was a seriously dorky name so I could understand why nobody called him that.
“The kite came to the hospital when he was born, landed outside and knocked on the window with its beak,” Carson went on, and I could hear how he struggled to hold more laughter back.
“Okay,” I said slowly.
“I guess Ma was a bit out of it, with the drugs and everything,” Carson said, but then he lost control and laughed again. “Named him after the kite,” he choked out.
“I know that,” I repeated, not understanding why this was so funny.
“Its scientific name,” Bo giggled.
It took me a few seconds to remember and then my jaw went slack.
“No?” I whispered.
Oh my god, what a ridiculous thing to do.
“Yes,” Carson confirmed. “They gave him the whole thing.”
I felt my mouth fall open and had nothing to say, but Bo said it for me and with no little amount of glee in his voice.
“Milvus-Milvus!” he shouted, and added, “Hyphenated!”
I thought we’d never stop laughing and it felt so good to forget about everything that had happened for a little while.
“Your mom must have been high as a – ha ha – kite,” I said, and we laughed some more at my stupid joke. “Do the others know?” I asked when we had calmed down, thinking that surely Hawker wouldn’t let his friend forget that name, like, ever.
“Nope,” Carson said. “Ma snapped out of it, and we’ve always just called him Miller, so most people actually think that’s his name. I haven’t even told Kit.”
I smiled at him, and we laughed some more. Milvus-Milvus Keeghan. Holy cow.
“Dessert,” Carson said when we once again had calmed down and started piling up our plates.
“Right,” Bo chuckled, and we got to our feet.
“Mary, please. No helping today,” Carson muttered, and pushed me gently to the side, but added when he saw my face, “Alright. Get the sugar from the pantry, please.”
The light was suddenly turned on, and Carson put his arms around me, gently pulling me out into the bright kitchen. My breath hitched, and I fought to get control, but all I could do was push a small whimper over my lips. Then I was pushed down on a chair, and my head pressed down between my knees.
“Breathe, Mary,” Carson said calmly. “Just breathe, little girl. You’ll be fine.”
The way he calmly used Miller’s nickname for me gave me control back, and I started pulling in deep breaths. Then I sat up and tried to smile.
“Drink,” Bo said, and handed me a low, wide glass with a very tiny splash of brown liquid.
Silently, I did what he’d ordered, and shuddered as the strong liquor burned my throat.
“I can’t go back to the hospital,” I rasped. “Too small room, and too dark. I have to…”
“You have to eat dessert, baby-girl,” Bo said gently. “Then you have to take a shower, and then you have to sleep on the couch.”
I blinked, thinking that the house was huge and had plenty of guest bedrooms.
“Yup,” Carson said calmly and started scooping up ice-cream. “Big room, high ceiling, huge windows and lots of light in there.”
My eyes suddenly burned with tears. I wasn’t related to them and had broken up with their son just a few weeks earlier, but they still treated me like family.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“Nothing to be sorry about,” Bo said gently. “We all have our foibles, so let this be yours for a while.” He made a short pause, and then he said with great flourish, “And don't get me started on what Carson does!”
Judging by the glee in his eyes it would be something hilarious.
“Bo...” Carson said, but it sounded affectionate, and I guessed that the story I was about to hear had been told many times.
I raised my brows and waited.
“He cuts his toenails!” Bo exclaimed, rearing back a little and adding a gasp for good measure. “And then he lines them up on the edge of the sink.”
Okay, yeah. That was a bit strange.
“Like to know I throw them all away,” Carson muttered.
“Well, my good man. You don't,” Bo snapped, and turned back to me. “The first time I was here, I got up during the night and went to the bathroom...” He trailed off and put his hand on his chest, taking a small step backward at the same time. “That's when I saw it,” he added.
I stared wide eyed at him, and he produced a very fake look of horror.
“Nail clippings. Lined up on the edge of the sink like little soldiers marching along towards war.”
Then he was silent. I could see how it would be a bit icky to find your new lover’s nails on the sink but surely -
“Nine,” Bo interrupted my thoughts. “I counted, twice, and there were only nine.”
Carson suddenly snorted out laughter and muttered, “Thought I'd have a heart attack. It was hard enough to suddenly find myself in love with a man... Then without warning, Bo is running around in the dark house, buck naked, screeching like a hen and waving his hands in the air.”
“There is still a clipping on the loose in this house,” Bo snapped. “You never found it, so it's there somewhere. Lurking. I know it’s waiting for me.”
I started laughing, and they both turned to me. Carson was laughing too, and I could tell that Bo wanted to, but he faked another look of horror and told me earnestly, “I haven’t walked on bare feet in this house since then, Mary, and I never will. Who knows what will happen?”
Telling that story the way he did, for a laugh but mostly to make me feel better, and calmly accepting what I was going through helped more than any psychologist in the world could have done, and I relaxed.
Okay,” I said.
“Fantastico,” Carson muttered with a wink. “Chocolate or caramel sauce on the ice cream?”
“Can I have both?” I asked.
***
“Can’t stay,” Miller murmured into my ear, and I screamed, jerked out of my twisted position and promptly slammed my forehead into his chin.
I’d been asleep in a low deck-chair on the side porch not open to customers when he woke me, and he’d frightened me. I heard the kite screech somewhere to my side and turned to look at it.
“Are you laughing at me?” I asked the bird sourly.
“He’s laughing at me,” Miller said, and I turned around to glare at him, which for some reason made him grin and raise both his hands. “Jeez, I’m sorry. Didn’t think anyone could sleep in that pretzely position.”
“Is that even a word?” I asked but he was kind of funny, so I had a hard time keeping my mad.
“Don’t know,” he said and nudged the big box he was crouching next to with his elbow. “I have to go, Mary, we’re going to –”
He stopped speaking abruptly, and since I didn’t want to know what horrible things they were up to, and guessed he wouldn’t tell me anyway, I filled in his sentence.
“Pick wildflowers?”
“Huh?”
“Pet cute little kittens? Make chocolate chip cookies? Braid each other’s beards?”
“What the –”
“Because, Miller – those are just about the only things I want to know about when it comes to you and the others in your little posse.”
“Posse?”
He’d started grinning, but I was on a roll, and seriously in need of coffee, so I clarified, “Hawkers merry men. The sleuth of badass vigilantes. Whatever you call yourself?”
He started laughing, and I felt my mouth curve, but faked a bit more annoyance and asked, “So, are you?”
“No, Mary, we aren’t,” he snorted. “Besides, only d’Augustine has a full beard, and it’s trimmed in that cutesy way Jinx likes, so it’s too short.”
“Dante is beautiful,” I stated because he was.
“Dante is whipped,” Miller retorted, grinning widely, and added, “Anyway, I’m fairly sure he’d kill me if I tried to braid his beard, though I could try with his hair if you think –”
Without thinking, I stretched out my hand and caressed his whiskers. He usually had a goatee, although it had almost grown into a full beard. It looked like he hadn’t shaved in weeks.
“Oh, stop it. And Dante might get to you first. You haven’t shaved in a while,” I laughed up at him.
He reared back a little, and my hand fell.
“Yeah,” he said and moved his hand over his chin. “I’ll get to that.”
I was about to tell him that it looked good the way it was, but he started moving so I closed my mouth again.
“I have to go, Mary,” he muttered.
“Okay,” I said.
“I get that you don’t want to talk about it,” he said, and I blinked. “You need to let it out somehow, though.”
“Wh –”
“Use that,” he said and nodded toward the box.
Then he was gone.
I tried to pick the box up but it was huge and heavy, so I was pushing it across the wooden planks when Carson came around the corner.
“What have you got there, Mary?” he asked, and swiftly lifted it up. “Inside?” he added and walked toward the patio doors leading into the living room without waiting for a reply.
He cut the tape, and there seemed to be an almost complete selection of art supplies in the box, neatly packed up. I stared down at it, and wondered where Mill had bought it, and how he’d known what to get. Then I found a scribbled note tucked in at the side.
“Hey, Mary. The hottest guy ev
er told me to get you what you needed, hope I haven’t missed a thing? Though, if I did, do NOT hesitate to send him back to pick it up.
XOXO/Carmella
ps. If there are stains on anything, it’s my drool. You know who to send if you need it replaced.”
I started laughing. Carson picked the note out of my hand, and then he was laughing too.
“Mill went to get you art supplies?” he asked, and added, “Was he here just now?”
I blinked and stared at him. If he hadn’t met his brother, how had he known who got me the supplies?
He must have seen my surprise because he started chuckling and murmured, “He’s been my baby brother for a long time, sweetie. This reaction is not exactly uncommon.”
He waved the note a little to emphasize his point, and I smiled at him although a strange feeling lurched at the back of my mind. I’d bought my materials from Carmella for a few years, and she was funny, incredibly sweet and down to earth. She was also curvy, beautiful and ten years older than me. I didn’t like the thought of sending Miller back to her at all, and that surprised me a little. I had no reason to be jealous and why would I be? He had been a good friend, but that was it. If I’d dreamed a little about him as I grew up, it was because of how I’d happened to see him on a night when everything changed for me. I quickly shifted my focus to the box and started unpacking the items, but then I stopped.
“I should go home,” I said resolutely.
“Why?” Carson asked calmly.
“I’m not sick anymore, so I don’t need you and Bo to take care of me.”
“We don’t mind.”
“I have nowhere to put all of this,” I tried, and added, “And I need clothes.”
I didn’t, actually. Bo had come home one day loaded with bags, both from his department store in Prosper and from his biker store. He’d brought more clothes for me than I had in my apartment, and most of it more expensive than anything I’d owned in a very long time. I’d tried to protest, but he’d brushed it aside and told me that shop-lifting was fun, especially when you owned the store. I told him I’d pay for the clothes, which he refused to accept, and when I insisted, he pouted. I glared, which made him put a hand on his hip and sigh, exaggeratedly. I pouted too and stomped my foot. This went on until Carson’s patience reached its limits and he calmly pulled out a knife from his boot, using it to start cutting off the price tags. We stared at him, and when he was halfway through the pile, he’d grinned and informed me that without the tags Bo couldn’t return anything. That had made Bo jump up and kiss him on his lips, and it had been neither gentle nor quick. Then he told me I surely understood why he loved Carson to teeny-tiny bits and pieces and sashayed out of the room. And that was apparently that.
