by Lena North
“Now, Mary, don’t hurt yourself,” he teased.
I was not in the mood for teasing so I glared at him.
“Jesus,” Hawker said and pulled a hand through his hair.
“You can go to hell too,” I told him just as sourly as I had told Mac.
Hawker was suddenly grinning, and I wanted to kick him.
“I didn’t get it,” he said. “That makes me a dick and an idiot, but I truly didn’t.”
I turned my head to the side and stared right into the fireplace, where no fire was lit. He leaned forward and used a big hand to turn my head until I had to look at him.
“I get it now,” he murmured.
“Dad,” Wilder whispered, and added, “Oh my God, Dad, look. It’s a message from Willy.”
Everyone froze, and she started reading.
“I hope you’re the one reading this, Wilder, my girl. Since you’ve found this, I’m gone, and I’ve been expecting it for a while. I held out as long as I could, but my heart can’t make it much longer now. Tell your Da that I loved you in his place and that he should cut his hair.”
Wilder’s voice broke, and she looked at her father. Hawker swallowed and muttered his favorite expletive, but Wilder continued reading.
“I have little time, and it’s not very clever to hide this like I do but I’m worried, and I have no better way to keep these sheets safe. I don’t know what they mean, but I got them from your mother. That useless husband she loves so much is involved in something bad, and she wants to find a way out for him. She says these sheets are part of it, and they’re valuable. I’m on my way to meet her now, and if all goes well, I’ll know more and can take these to the authorities. If not, then, Wilder, my lovely girl, give them to Hawker Johns as soon as you find them. They will figure it out. Maybe you’re a part of them now, and that would please me so much. I raised you to do just that.
You have my love, always and forever. Willy.”
She moved the papers around and stared at Hawker. Then she stretched them out toward him and whispered brokenly, “It’s just numbers. Four pages with loads and loads of numbers.”
They passed the papers around, but I was still sulking and shook my head when I was offered to look at them.
“You said others were looking?” Wilder said when they’d put the papers back in the envelope.
“Yes,” I replied sourly.
“Mary, stop it,” Wilder said patiently. “Dad said he was sorry.”
“No, he didn’t.”
“She’s right. I actually didn’t,” Hawker said, and it sounded like he was laughing, but I refused to look at him.
“Dad!” Wilder snapped.
“Mary,” Dante murmured. “Why don’t we give up on the sulking and see if we can’t bring some clarity to this whole mess.”
He sounded gentle and reasonable, but I glared at him too.
“Yes, Dante, why don’t we?” I asked.
“Mary,” Jinx snapped, and I turned to her.
She raised a brow, and I knew it would be futile to get into an argument with her.
Oh, alright,” I snapped. “You said it, Wilder, a long time ago in the kitchen at Double H. Roses are red, violets are blue…”
I recounted the sappy poem and sent Dante out to bring in the paintings from Jinx’ house. Their eyes were glued to me as I told them how I’d found the papers, and then I took a deep breath and shared the rest.
“There have been four occasions, that we know of. They did something to that huge blue glass sculpture that’s on display in the Art Museum in Prosper. And the painting that was stolen from that art museum in Treville the night before I got kidnapped, it was red with streaks of blue. Then there’s the fake painting in the library. The woman had a bright blue dress, and there’s a big bowl of red roses next to her. If you check out that art gallery where they didn’t get anything, I’d guess you’ll find another replica, and it’ll be blue and red. Maybe there are others, I don’t know.”
“Someone knows?” Wilder said incredulously. “How?”
“We’ll gather the others and trace who we’ve told that story to. I have told it a few times myself since I heard it,” Hawker muttered, and when he felt our stares, he added, “What? It was funny.”
It actually wasn’t all that funny, I thought.
“That’s for tomorrow,” Hawker muttered, got to his feet and pulled me to mine. “Sloane, babe, can you put the papers in the safe?”
She agreed, and he gave her cheek a quick caress, but then he turned to me. We stared at each other for a few seconds, and the intense look in his eyes was mesmerizing. I swallowed and wanted to walk away but somehow, I couldn’t. Then his lips curved slightly and the skin around his eyes crinkled.
“We’re going for a drive,” he announced suddenly and pulled me along, through the door and out to his truck.
My feeble protests didn’t stop him, and he shuffled me into the passenger side of his car with little effort.
“You’ll like where we’re going, Mary,” he said, smiling smugly.
“I don’t like you,” I said quietly.
“I know, honey.”
Then he rounded the hood, and I could see the others scrambling to get into their cars, watching us curiously.
We drove in silence for a few minutes, then he turned off Main Street, turned again and parked the car.
“I was an idiot, Mary,” he murmured.
“Yeah,” I sighed, not sure what he meant or what to say.
I’d been so angry, but it had worn off, and I felt mostly tired.
“I’ll make it up to you. Come,” he said and got out of the car.
I did too and looked at the big stone house he’d parked in front of.
“Where are we?” I asked.
“Miller’s house.”
C
hapter Fifteen
Drunk as a skunk
“Bird says, back porch,” Wilder muttered, and I wondered, not for the first time, how they could live with that complete lack of privacy.
We walked around the house, and there he was, sitting in a deck chair, holding a glass. His head turned slowly, and he looked worn down, but also weird. I could have sworn his features were… blurry? Was he drunk? In the middle of the afternoon?
“The hell?” he muttered, studiously avoiding looking at me and instead addressing Hawker.
“She thinks it’s just the child you want, man,” Hawker said slowly.
Miller ignored that and turned to look at the forest leading up to the mountain. Then he took a deep swig of the brown liquid, and I noticed the empty bottle in front of him. And the one that was one-quarter empty.
That’s when I realized that Miller wasn’t drunk. Miller was a few steps beyond shit-faced.
“You’re not going to answer that, Mill?” Hawker drawled.
“There is no answer.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Hawker muttered.
“There is no answer,” Miller repeated, and I could hear how he slurred his words a little. “If I say that I want the baby, then she thinks I don’t want her. If I tell her it’s not about the child at all, she thinks I don’t want our baby. So, there’s no answer,” he said, enunciating the words carefully.
Then he turned to glare at Hawker, studiously avoiding to look at me, or the others. “And you’re the idiot, Hawk, because that wasn’t even a question. It was a statement, but you’re too stupid to know the difference.”
He raised his chin in a challenge, and I wondered why he was trying to taunt Hawker into a fight. Regardless, his friend didn’t oblige him. After a few seconds of staring, Hawker let go of me and walked over to sit down in one of the chairs. Then he leaned down and brought a stack of glasses up from somewhere under the low table, poured himself a healthy portion of the liquor, and leaned back.
“What are you doing, Dad?” Wilder snapped.
“Girl,” he snapped right back, “Either we dr
ink it, or he drinks it, which do you think is best?”
“Right,” Mac said and ambled over to pour himself a glass.
Suddenly they were all sitting around the table with glasses in their hands. Miller was watching Hawker, and his face was turned away,
Mill must have said something because Hawker’s eyes softened, and he murmured, “I know it does, buddy. Hang in there, and we’ll get you through this.” Then he turned to me. “Sit,” he ordered.
There was something about his voice and the way his eyes focused on me, and there was no way anyone could have disobeyed him right then, so I walked over to sit in the only empty chair, right next to Miller.
Then they started chatting like everything was completely normal, and we were just having a sweet get-together on Miller’s back porch. The man himself didn’t say a word, and neither did I. After a few minutes of sitting there staring at the shape of the mountain and feeling awkward, I’d had enough and started to move.
“You can stay if you want to,” Miller muttered.
I wondered if it was the alcohol or if he’d been that stupid all the time, and I’d just never noticed.
“If I want to?” I asked.
“If you don’t want to, not much more I can do now. Won’t force you. Men don’t push women around and especially not you.”
I blinked.
“Especially not me?” I asked stupidly.
“Yup,” he said, and finally, I turned to him.
His face was hard, but it softened when our eyes met.
“You look like a pixie.”
“I… what?” I said.
“He said that you look like a pixie,” Hawker suddenly interrupted, and I reared back a little.
I’d forgotten him, and the others.
“She does,” Miller said.
“She absolutely does, man.”
“I hate it,” Miller said casually to his friend, and went on, “That neck used to be mine and now it isn’t.”
“Don’t give up, Mill,” Hawker said, and it sounded a little like a warning, but I was still trying to grasp if Miller actually liked my neck or if he wanted to throttle it, so I just sat there.
“What’s it to you?” Miller slurred.
“I get it,” Hawker grinned, and when Miller didn’t say anything, he added, “I didn’t when I should have, but I do now. You just need to get it too.”
“Are you ineribated?” Miller asked good-naturedly.
“Huh?" Hawk asked, but I heard both Dante and Mac chuckle.
“Drunk,” Miller clarified.
I thought this the first reasonable thing he’d said since we stepped on his porch. Hawker was acting very strange.
“No, buddy, but you certainly are.”
Miller snorted out something I didn’t understand and leaned back in his chair. I must have made a sound because he turned to me, and the smile faded.
“I’m such an idiot,” he muttered.
I was an idiot too, for letting my friends drag me into that situation. I’d just walk out of there and keep walking until I had left Norton far, far behind me.
Suddenly, Miller’s kite appeared out of nowhere and landed on the table right in front of me. I saw shadows move in the air and guessed that the others had their birds close too.
Miller stared at the kite and leaned toward it, resting his elbows on his knees. The bird seemed to lean forward too, and for the longest time, no one said anything. The man and the bird stared at each other, and Miller’s face got harder and harder. Suddenly the kite screeched and flapped its wings. I wasn’t an expert on a kite’s facial expressions, but it was clear even to me that this was one supremely pissed of bird.
“What’s he angry about?” Hawker asked curiously.
Miller’s jaw set stubbornly, and he said, “I’m not saying.”
“He says Miller is an idiot,” Wilder announced calmly.
Apparently, the kite shared his thoughts with Wilder’s bird, and she had no qualms distributing the information.
“Traitor,” Miller muttered and leaned back, taking another deep gulp of liquor.
“He also says that you,” Wilder made a pause and turned to me, “are an idiot too.”
“What?” I breathed.
“He says you have misunderstood just about everything, and he won’t move unless you promise to stay until Miller is less of a fucktard and explains it to you.”
I blinked.
“Birds know that kind of language?” I asked.
“They know the language of the human they speak with,” Wilder replied.
“Of course,” I murmured, but I felt my mouth curve as I thought about Miller and the bird yelling at each other, and the language they’d use doing that.
The kite suddenly jumped onto my lap, and I felt the sharp claws gently press into my jeans. It twisted its head downward to nudge my belly, and then it just looked at me. I stared back at it, and suddenly a low, outdrawn, “Pleeeease,” breathed through the air.
I thought about what Wilder had said. Could I have misunderstood? I thought that it had all been clear, but at the same time, a small glimmer of hope flared. I’d told Jinx and Dante that I should have begged Miller to give us a chance, and here was my opportunity. Maybe I should walk away with my pride intact, but I couldn’t. Not when I suddenly had hope, twitching and sparkling right where my heart was. I decided to stay and let Miller explain whatever the bird thought he should explain. Then, I thought, I’d beg.
“I promise,” I whispered.
I felt movement to my side and saw Miller’s hand move over the kite’s head. Their eyes held for a while, and then Miller sighed softly, “Bird…”
The kite screeched, although it didn’t sound like the angry outcry from before. It sounded somehow triumphant, and laughter echoed through the forest. Suddenly the bird flew off, knocking Millers glass over with one of its wings.
I turned to find Miller looking at me. He was so beautiful, even drunk as a skunk and in serious need of a shower.
“Fucktard, Miller? Really?” I asked.
His mouth twitched, but there was suddenly a strange look on his face. Then he stood up abruptly, swayed a little, and grabbed the back of his chair. I got up too, thinking that he'd need help.
"Nuh-uh," he said and put a hand up, pointing at me.
"Miller," I murmured, in what I thought was a placating voice, adding a smile for good measure.
"Baby, you know I love you, and that I can't say no to anything when you smile at me," he slurred, and my smile disappeared, but he went on, "But I'm gonna have to draw a line."
I sat down and stared at him, and he stared back at me.
"Okay," I said weakly.
"Okay," he echoed. "I'm gonna go and throw up now, and it won't be dignified so you can just sit there and wait until I'm done."
Someone started coughing and guessed it was Hawker pushing back laughter, but I was still hearing Miller’s words in my head. I knew he loved him? What was he talking about? I did not know that at all.
"Mill," I murmured.
"Drawn a line," he said doggedly. "I'm whipped, but not as much as you…" he swung his arm around as he spoke until it was aimed at Dante, who jerked backward at this sudden accusation.
"I'm not -"
"Dude, please. Nobody on earth is a whipped as you," Miller cut him off, and I heard Hawker chuckle, but that stopped when Miller turned around to look at him.
"And what are you laughing about?" he asked. “You’re so whipped you’d work well with apple pie.”
I stared at him, and so did the others, none of us understanding this sudden reference to dessert.
“If you were cream,” he explained.
Holy cow, I thought. The man certainly was drunk, but also kind of funny. Hawker obviously thought so because he started laughing, and suddenly Miller did too.
“If I hadn’t been such an idiot, this would’a been kinda’ fun,” h
e said. “I haven’t been this drunk since we were at that place where I used to work.” Then he turned to me, raised his chin, and declared proudly, “I used to be a stripper.”
He made a little movement with his hips, but stumbled, so he had to grab a firm hold with one hand on the back of his chair again, to steady himself.
“I know,” I said.
“Probably couldn’t do it now,” he frowned.
“Mill –”
“But you’ve seen it so you know I’m gray,” he said, and waved his arm up and down in front of himself, “all over,” he finished.
Wilder suddenly laughed although it sounded more like a nervous squeal, and Mac snorted out something under his breath, but I kept my eyes on the swaying man in front of me because he wasn’t done.
“I was good,” he declared.
“I’m sure you were,” I said.
“I was a lot better than whipped cream over there,” he boasted, swinging his arm out in the general direction of Hawker, which made Wilder’s laughter suddenly turn into a hoarse cough.
“I know,” I said.
“No you don’t,” he said.
“Um, actually, Miller… I do. I was there that evening,” I said, and his brows went up, so I went on hastily, “And you’re right. He wasn’t very good.”
A smug smile spread on Millers' face, and he turned toward Hawker. Then he suddenly swallowed visibly and turned back to face me.
"Puke," he said succinctly and nodded a few times.
I stared at his back until it had swayed into the house and disappeared.
Then I turned to the others, and they were all staring at me.
“You saw the red latex briefs,” Jinx breathed suddenly, and with no little amount of awe in her voice.
I nodded silently, wondering how she knew about Hawker’s attire.
“Epic,” Mac muttered. “Heard rumors about that night, but an eye-witness…” he trailed off, grinning widely, and raising his glass in a toast.
I turned to Wilder, but she just stared at me with her mouth open.
“I’m not whipped,” Dante muttered sourly.
“Of course not,” Jinx said calmly. “Miller is drunk.”
