Strangely emotional, she replied, “You’re a good guy, Arnie. I picked you because I saw how you are with the disabled kids at school. Real patient and stuff.”
She shrugged one shoulder. “You know the way most people react to anyone with disabilities? Well, I get that a lot. Impatience and a distinct feeling that I’m different than everyone else.”
For a long moment, he was quiet. Then he rolled to his side and took her in his arms.
At her ear, he said, “I think you’re the coolest person I’ve ever met. You are a comic book character, Tawny. A real life superhero. Don’t ever let anyone snuff out your awesomeness.”
Arnie rolled on a condom, actually made her climax the second time, laughingly screamed “Princess Leia” when he came, and then took her for pancakes.
Chapter Three
May 2003
Driving back from Arnie’s place, Tawny sang along to Stacy’s Mom and wondered if it was finally time to tell Riya that they’d been secretly dating since the day he took her virginity. Like, exclusively and shit.
At first, she’d kept it to herself to see if it would last. It was easy to do since he was two years older and had already graduated. He worked in a call center and they didn’t hang out with the same people.
Then it became a habit.
Every part of her life was shared with Riya who had a room in her house just as she did in the O’Connell home. They got up at the crack of ass to attend Nova High half an hour away. They were going to the same college now that were almost done with the utter joys of high school.
She’d lost count of the number of fights she’d not started but been more than happy to finish. It would be great to finally be done with the breeding ground of fools. All of them could kiss her ass.
Graduation was in a few weeks but they’d already gotten all their pats on the back for outstanding academic achievement. Riya, they expected. Tawny was a shock.
There was no doubt in her mind that the teachers and administrators checked their data several times before accepting that their “problem student” was smart.
She’d tried to tell them. Damn.
Use the guys’ bathroom to avoid the hairspray fumes or knock some cheerleader’s tooth out and you got labeled.
All that was left were finals and walking the stage in a hideous cap and gown that did nothing for her figure.
Boring.
Back to the topic at hand. She knew everything there was to know about her best friend, down to every sordid detail about the asshole she recently dumped.
Riya had finally gotten an interest in losing her damn cherry and that motherfucker took off the second he was done to play football with his friends.
Her girl got even on her terms, earning her props since Tawny didn’t think she had it in her. She recorded the moment for posterity and high-fived her in hysterics until Riya’s hand went numb.
The truth was that Tawny kept so many secrets that it bordered on pathological. As the person closest to her heart, she often felt weird about keeping information from Riya but she couldn’t seem to help it.
At the start of their senior year, she’d started a web-based business that focused on computer training.
After winter break, with an investment in better equipment, she started doing self-help videos.
Both were shockingly low start-up, high return, and completely legal. They generated money while she slept because the internet was awesome. She had a feeling it was only going to get better and she had tons of ideas.
No one in the real world had a clue.
They planned to spend the summer on the beach. Riya would toast up beautifully and Tawny would go through four gallons of natural sunscreen by the time their classes started in the fall.
She prepared to turn into the driveway of the O’Connell house and was surprised to see a police car turn in just ahead of her.
Following behind it, her stomach knotted as the cruiser parked and two policemen stepped out.
Had she done anything illegal lately?
Racking her brain and coming up empty on anything that could be proven, she cut the engine, got out, and approached them carefully. “Can I help you, officers?”
“Do you live here, miss?”
“It’s my best friend’s house.”
The taller man nodded. “We need to talk to the family who lives here. It’s important. Can you get them?”
There was an expression on his face, a tone in his voice, that sent terror skittering down her spine.
She turned and ran for the front door.
“Riya!” she screamed from the foyer as she slammed inside and left the entry wide open.
At the end of the hall, her friend peered around the corner of her bedroom.
“Who else is here?” she barked.
Confused, Riya pointed to Archer’s study. “Dad’s home working. Do you need him?”
She knew that her best friend was about to experience something awful and she wanted more than anything to stop it, to make it not happen.
“Riya. Get your dad. The police are here.”
Laughing, Riya said, “You sure they’re not looking for you, Red? Did you fuck with those guys at the gym again? Flash the retirement home?”
Marta, their long-time live-in housekeeper, came from the kitchen, passing to address the officers as Tawny walked to Riya.
Taking her shoulders, she took a deep breath. “Archer!” The good-looking man appeared in the doorway of his home office but Tawny never took her eyes off her friend’s face. “The police are here. You need to come.”
A frown formed between Riya’s eyes. “What is it?”
“I don’t know yet.”
Taking her hand, they returned to the foyer where Marta waited with the uniformed men.
The officer wasted no time once Archer introduced himself. “Sir, your wife’s car was hit at the intersection of Federal Highway and Hillsboro Boulevard. She’s at North Broward Medical Center in critical condition.”
The other officer added, “Another car ran a red light.”
Riya began to slip to the floor but Tawny held her upright. Shaking fingers dug into her bare forearm but she wouldn’t notice the bleeding crescent marks made by terror until much later.
Archer stared at the man. He never blinked. Not a muscle in his body moved.
“You’re lying,” he finally growled.
“No, sir. I’m sorry to bring you such news. You need to get to the hospital immediately. We’ll escort you.”
“Drive me and my girls.”
“No, Archer,” Tawny told him. His face whipped around to stare at her. “I have to get Mom.”
The way his face contorted in agony would remain etched in memory for the rest of her life.
“Of course. Oh my god, of course. You’ll be careful.”
Nodding, she turned to Riya and whispered, “I’ll be right behind you. Stay with your dad and I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
“Mom…?”
“Breathe. It’s going to be alright. Just breathe.” Tawny knew Dalia wasn’t going to be alright but she needed Riya to keep it together while she went for Maggie.
The three days that followed were the worst she’d ever experienced. When Edward Ratliff died, it was sudden and he looked almost peaceful as they ran to his body lying on the cobblestone driveway.
Dalia’s body was all but destroyed.
It was impossible to connect the woman who had always been so beautiful to the broken patient on stark white sheets.
Less than an hour after arriving at the hospital, the neurosurgeon on call told them that there was no activity in her brain.
Riya and Maggie collapsed against each other. Archer and Tawny held them up.
There was no question that Dalia would not want to be kept on life support. She’d made her wishes clear.
When the initial shock wore off around midnight, Maggie tried to call family but couldn’t hold her phone steady enough to dial. Tawny took i
t and spoke to Dalia’s relatives in New York and Columbia. She talked to a couple of Maggie’s as well.
For three days, she kept Riya beside her.
Allowed her to hold her fingers hard enough to bruise. Wiped her face of tears she didn’t know slipped over her cheeks. Forced her to eat and drink. Pushed her to sleep when she couldn’t keep her eyes open.
Visitors came to pay their respects, to cry, and to hug those closest to Dalia throughout her lifetime.
On the third day, Archer told the doctor that it was time and one by one, they kissed her goodbye and whispered at her ear about how much she was loved.
Then they let Dalia O’Connell go.
The days following the death of Riya’s mother were filled with a grief so thick, it could be tasted on the air.
After the funeral and an endless procession of well-meaning people, Tawny crawled in bed with her best friend and held her as she sobbed painfully hard.
“My fault…it’s my fault.”
At the time, she didn’t know why Riya felt that way but she let her get it all out. When necessary, she wiped her face or helped her blow her nose.
Inside, she screamed and screamed. Her own grief over Dalia’s loss was a rock in her chest that chafed and burned. Riya’s mother seemed branded on every cell and every memory.
Outwardly, Tawny was steady for her best friend, her sister, the kindest person she’d ever known, the woman she loved so much more than she had ever loved herself.
In all their lives, they’d never really needed each other. Their friendship was a choice they actively made. Not because of the history between their parents or their close proximity but because their puzzle pieces fit.
When Riya’s grief sapped her usual strength and left her vulnerable, Tawny was determined to lend her own.
They would make it through to the other side together.
Chapter Four
October 2004
More than a year after they buried Dalia, something happened that changed Tawny’s life from the ground up.
No one who loved her knew.
Caught up in a combination of grief and a crushing expectation of perfection from herself, Riya worked day and night to bury every emotion.
Maggie was stuck in a loop of her own bone-deep sadness and her desperation to pull Archer from his.
She received regular updates from Marta at the O’Connell household and Jaslene, her counterpart at the Ratliff home. The women were quick to ask for her advice and Tawny was always willing to give it as long as they didn’t mention her name.
There were times she could force Riya out of her own head but it didn’t get rid of her worry that her best friend was in trouble.
When she wasn’t in school, she withdrew into herself. School and her writing kept her mind off a situation that was rapidly deteriorating.
There was no laughter and she never rested.
As Riya internalized, Tawny worked to feed her mind and her spirit all the knowledge about the world they seemed ravenous to consume.
She spent time with Arnie. He was a good man, a nice man, and she wished it was possible for her to love him.
After four years, she knew she never would.
One night, they were leaving one of her favorite restaurants hand in hand and were mugged by two men in the parking lot next door.
Within seconds, Arnie was stabbed several times trying to protect her and never took his eyes off her face as he fell to the ground.
Her mind in a red rage at the sight of the gentlest man she’d ever known bleeding in front of her, Tawny prepared to fight both attackers.
She never heard the third man sneak up behind her. He hit her in the head with something heavy and when she regained consciousness, she was naked and battered on the wet concrete beneath her car.
Her surroundings were muffled and dim.
Understanding what had happened to her but refusing to deal with it until she checked Arnie, she rolled from under the vehicle, found her shirt, and winced at the horrible pain between her legs.
Crawling to his side, she held a hand that had never been cold and sobbed until a car skidded to a stop behind her. Police lights gave the scene an eerie blue glow.
She leaned down so her lips were beside Arnie’s ear. “I’ll miss you hard. Thank you for being good to me.”
Then the world rushed in bright and loud again.
Paramedics attended to her while she watched the crime scene people photograph the scene, examine Arnie’s body, and finally zip him into a black bag.
The female officer who took her statement mentioned that there would be a trial and that it was important that Tawny be prepared to testify.
Numbly, she replied, “There will never be a trial because you’ll never catch the men who did this. There are too many cases just like mine and this will be the last time you and I ever talk.”
“There’s always hope…”
“No. There isn’t. Sometimes, life is totally random and shit just sucks.”
At the hospital, she endured a rape kit and shook her head when the nice older woman asked her if there was someone she could call.
The nurse looked at her in surprise. “Are you sure? This is going to be a hard time for you, sweetheart.”
“No. I don’t want to call anyone. I’ll be okay.” She had no intention of dumping this on her loved ones.
Finally, she was released. On the second floor, she found a man under heavy sedation and used the shower in his room to scrub her body raw before she put on the sweats she’d been given.
The police kept her clothes. They were evidence.
On the night that Arnie was stabbed to death and she was violated by three men who had no concept of humanity, everything in Tawny’s mind stilled.
The day after Arnie’s funeral, she bought a gun, took lessons on how to use it, and started training.
Never again would she be unable to defend herself.
Though she’d given accurate physical descriptions of the men who had taken so much from her, she’d left out a few key identifiers. Tattoos on the two men she’d seen were what she planned to use to find them herself.
They would receive justice not incarceration. Sending men like them to prison would do nothing but make them worse. They lacked human decency.
If the men had robbed them and left them untouched, she could attribute their actions to desperation, to addiction, to greed, to anything but what it was. She would have let it go, hoped they got help, and moved on.
The three criminals didn’t make that choice.
They killed an unarmed man who had already handed over his wallet, watch, and cell phone then raped a woman they’d knocked unconscious after she’d given them her purse and earrings.
Their actions changed the outcome. She would never be the same.
They were murderers and rapists, no better than feral animals. They would continue committing the same crimes unless they were put down.
All three of them deserved death for what they’d done to her gentle Arnie, for what they’d done to her.
She planned to see that they got it.
Far more quickly and efficiently than law enforcement would be able to distribute.
Chapter Five
March 2005
Over the next months, Tawny ramped up her crazy around Riya so her best friend wouldn’t ask questions. She drank too much, laughed too loud, and forced her out to dance as much as possible.
When she wasn’t with her best friend, she was hunting.
She put her online businesses on autopilot, breezed through her sophomore year finals, dived head-first into the virtual world, and stumbled on her calling.
It started with a random search on how to use emerging facial-recognition software and hack mug shots of men with prior convictions for rape, murder, or armed robbery in South Florida.
The ability to hack complex systems came easily. Her joy in doing it was unexpected.
She found a
blog that seemed to speak directly to her and read every word. The author’s history was unknown but his mistakes were written about in detail.
The site was called The Carving and was written by a man who identified himself as Hollow.
Within days, she found herself interacting with the man behind the screen through online instant messaging. He knew her real name immediately but she wasn’t worried.
No one would ever hurt her again.
Most of his posts were about missing women and children. He wrote features that gave background on the faces that normally went through the minds of people watching the news and then promptly filtered out again.
Part of her mind wondered at what he seemed to know and she fact-checked every article to confirm.
At almost two in the morning on a Wednesday night, she drifted to sleep at her desk and woke to the ding that told her she had a friend online.
Disoriented, she grinned when she saw that it was Hollow. Scrubbing her hands over her face, she yawned and expanded the window.
It was a serious Matrix moment and absolutely his style. Gathering her hair into a messy bun, she pulled her keyboard closer.
Thought you’d be asleep by now.
I don’t sleep much anymore.
Everything okay?
They found one of the women today. Sonja Mills. I didn’t get to her in time. I failed.
You didn’t fail. The system failed. What can I do?
Tell me about your day. Something silly or random. You always make me laugh.
I told my professor she wouldn’t understand women’s rights if her vagina used a bullhorn to tell her to stop stomping on her fellow vagina owners. She wasn’t amused. I may have to drop the class.
LOL – what started it?
How do you know anything started it? Maybe I was being a bitch…
No. That isn’t your way. In every story of outrageous behavior, there is always a reason.
…Thanks, you give me too much credit.
You’re welcome. When’s the last time you flashed the retirement home?
No point anymore. My darling Mr. Cotton passed away last month in his sleep. I only did it for him.
Pushing the Envelope: A Prequel from The Barter System World Page 2
