The Word of a Liar

by Beauchamp, Sally

  “If you can find some water, I’ll take that. If not, a soda will be fine.”

  “I think I saw machines down thatta way. I’ll be back.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Spider nodded and then went in search of the vending machines. Before long, he was back with a bottle of water and a coffee.

  Mason drank the water like a man who’d been lost in the desert and then began to shiver. His teeth chattered.

  “You cold?” Spider looked worried.

  “I’m freezing. It’s shock.”

  Spider removed his jacket and draped it over Mason’s shoulders. Mason pulled it tight.

  “God damn, Rambo, what the hell were you and Mad Dog up to?”

  Mason sighed, leaned forward, and then told Spider everything.

  “How’d Ellen end up there?”

  “I don’t know.” Mason shook his head, choking back tears.

  “What’d the cops do?”

  “They snooped around, but let me go with Ellen.”

  “Do they know Mad Dog was involved?”

  “He was gone before they got there. It was my gun that killed Jack and Doc. Muck Eye and Ellen were shot with Jack’s pistol. There’s no way they’d know of Mad Dog’s involvement.”

  “Shit! Mad Dog finally got his justice.”

  Spider stood and began to pace. Turning to Mason, he sat and sipped his coffee.

  “It was too high a price.” Spider sighed, leaning back in the chair. “But that’s how things go in this world. There’s always a price to pay.”

  The room fell silent.

  Mason rose and went to the small window overlooking the hospital parking lot. A heavy gray cloud moved across the sky and snow fell on the pavement, but the blinding rays of the sun reflected off the asphalt. To see the sun while it snowed struck Mason as one of nature’s best ironies.

  “Excuse me, gentlemen,” a short round man addressed them.

  Mason turned. The splotches of blood on the man’s scrubs sucked the air from his lungs. “Which one of you is Mr. Hackett?”

  “That would be me.”

  “I’m Dr. Bernard. Your wife is in recovery. There was a tear in one of her arteries causing blood to collect in her chest. Her right lung is ruptured, but I was able to repair it and stop the bleeding. She’s going to be in ICU for a while and will be on a respirator. She also has a chest tube to drain off any remaining fluids. A couple of ribs are broken, and there’s a minor laceration to her lower back. She’s a very lucky woman. However, we weren’t able to save the fetus, Mr. Hackett. There was a tremendous amount of blood loss and her lung collapsed…. It was inevitable.”

  The doctor placed a hand on Mason’s shoulder. “When she gets out of recovery, she’ll be put in ICU. While on the respirator, she won’t be able to talk. She’ll be heavily sedated, so I don’t know how much she’ll remember. We’re giving her medication to prevent blood clots and infection. I’m very sorry, Mr. Hackett. We did everything we could for your wife. Now all we can do is wait.”

  Mason sighed.

  “Thank you, Dr. Bernard.” He shook the man’s hand. “Thank you.”

  Dr. Bernard left the men. Mason slumped down in the chair.

  Spider shot up and paced. He turned to Mason. “Holy shit, Rambo! Did you know Ellen was pregnant?”

  Mason nodded. “I found out the night before last.”

  Tilting his head back, panic subsided but tears formed. He tried to stop them, but they ran down his temples, wetting his hair. A feeling of rage festered. If Ellen hadn’t come after him, he might have been able to talk her out of having an abortion, but it was too late. He wasn’t going to be a father.

  Spider sat and put his arm around Mason’s shoulder.

  “You and Ellen have plenty of time to have kids, Rambo. She survived the surgery. She’s still with us. That’s what is important. A few hours ago, you weren’t certain you’d ever see Ellen alive again.”

  Mason leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. The fear and anxiety of the past few hours rose in a crushing wave. Burying his face in his hands, emotions choking him, Mason wept.

  CHAPTER thirty-two

  Ellen’s body drifted helplessly in a vortex of blackness. She willingly gave herself up to the swirling current carrying her into a world of dreams and pain. In this dark place, time lost its purpose. Unable to move or speak, voices floated in and out of her bizarre unconsciousness without consequence. Hands drifted over her body, some bringing pain, some gently caressing, settling Ellen in her shadowed nirvana. Faces of strangers loomed beyond her reach and moved in the perimeter of the darkness. At times, Ellen wondered if she was dead but then would feel ferocious pain and knew she was alive.

  Longing for tangible proof she wasn’t some lost soul lingering in Purgatory, Ellen attempted to open her eyes. Incredibly heavy eyelids made her strength wane. Finally, she opened them enough to allow a facet of light to shimmer beneath her eyelashes. Fighting through the pain, she focused on a dim rectangular light. To her left, in a chair next to the bed, head nestled in folded arms and resting on the edge of the mattress, Mason slept. Long black hair spilled over his cheek. Ellen listened to the heavy sound of his breathing. She called to him, but something in her throat killed every syllable of sound she tried to utter. She struggled to move her arm so she could touch him but couldn’t manage it. She closed her eyes, concentrated on the movement, and then lifted a limp hand.

  Mason straightened. Stretching his arms over his head, he yawned. Their eyes connected. Ellen rejoiced at the sight of his stunning blue eyes. I’m not dead, she thought. Mason is with me.

  “You’re awake.” Half smiling, half weeping, he gripped her hand.

  She labored for speech.

  Mason smoothed back her hair. “You’re on a respirator, darlin’. You won’t be able to talk until they can take you off.”

  Ellen blinked her eyes.

  “You’ve been out for two days. I’ve been waiting for you to wake up.” His bottom lip trembled. “The nurses are threatening to toss me in the shower with my clothes on.”

  He smiled. Tears traveled down his bearded cheeks.

  “I’ve missed you, Ellen,” Mason said and squeezed her hand. “I love you.”

  Ellen nodded. Frustrated by her inability to speak because of the tube in her throat that gaged her, Ellen grew restless with questions that needed answers, but that she couldn’t ask. Mason brought her hand to his lips. His warm breath on her skin was an enormous comfort.

  “Your parents and Samantha are taking care of JD. Samantha was here about an hour ago and told me JD misses you, but he’s okay. I’ve met your mom and dad. I don’t think they like me.” Mason smiled. “I don’t think your dad wants you dating a long-haired biker.”

  Mason chuckled.

  Ellen tried to smile.

  “I suppose I’d feel the same way if I had a daughter.”

  Ellen remembered the baby. She rounded her eyes in question. Mason held her hand against his cheek. He closed his eyes and twisted his lips to kiss her palm. She felt the wetness of his tears.

  “You’re not pregnant anymore, Ellen.” Mason’s deep voice was tender and gentle. He laid her hand on the bed and stroked her bicep.

  Ellen closed her eyes. Tears rolled down to her temples. Mason brushed them away.

  “It’s all right, love. Please don’t cry… please.” His voice cracked.

  Ellen looked at him. His chest heaved and then he smiled. “I plan on having a half dozen kids with you, Ellen Abrams. When you get your strength back, look out, woman. We still have two weeks of make-up sex, and now we have to add all of this time. The way I’ve got it figured, for the next ten years you’re going to be barefoot and pregnant.”

  Ellen raised her hand in protest.

  “You don’t like that idea?” Mason smirked. “I figure the only way your parents are ever going to like me is if I give them a shit load of grandchildren.”

  He laughed. Ellen tri
ed to but intense pain swept over her and nearly sent her careening back into the blackness. Mason’s face clouded over with worry.

  “You should sleep. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

  His fingers brushed the side of her face. A nurse came into the room and injected pain medication into Ellen’s IV. She drifted back into the strange dark world she had just come from.

  ***

  Someone shook Mason’s shoulder, pulling him from sleep. He rolled his head back on the chair and slowly opened his eyes. Mad Dog stood in front of him. Mason glanced around the room to verify he was still with Ellen.

  “When did you get here?” Mason asked.

  “Just now,” Mad Dog whispered. “Samantha sent me. She said someone needed to come and get you and take you home for a while. She said you were going to start stinking up the place if you didn’t take a shower.”

  Mad Dog glanced over at Ellen. “Has she come around yet?”

  “Yeah, about an hour ago.”

  Mad Dog nodded his head. “This is a good time to take a little break.”

  “I can’t. I promised her I’d be here when she woke up.” Mason stood and stretched.

  “We’ll be back before she wakes up again.”

  “No. I’m not leaving.”

  “I’m not taking no for an answer.” Mad Dog jerked his head from side to side like he was cracking his neck. “You’re coming with me voluntarily, or I’m going to drag your sorry ass out of here kicking and screaming.”

  “Leave me the hell alone, Mad Dog. I’m not in the mood for this horseshit.”

  “Neither am I!” Mad Dog’s ferocious black eyes faced off with Mason.

  “What the hell? You’re going to start something here in the hospital?”

  Extremely tired and edgy, Mason couldn’t understand Mad Dog’s aggressive attitude. The two men stared at each other. The taut muscles in Mad Dog's neck and the clenched jaw made Mason realize his friend was in earnest.

  “You’re fucking nuts, Mad Dog. What the hell’s come over you?”

  “Get your jacket,” Mad Dog said as he clenched his hands hanging at his sides into tight fists.

  Mason shook his head. Mad Dog’s odd behavior made him nervous.

  “All right, I’ll go. Let me tell Ellen good-bye.”

  Mad Dog nodded and then walked out to the nurses’ station. He watched from the other side of the glass as Mason kissed Ellen’s forehead and briefly took hold of her limp white hand. Mad Dog couldn’t stand to be in hospitals, much less look at Ellen lying there hooked up to every machine known to man, tubes running in and out of her wounded body. It completely unnerved him.

  He was thankful his children had been healthy and had never needed to stay in a hospital. He had barely been able to bring himself to go with Gina when she had delivered them. The lights, the smell, the row of rooms filled with sick people panicked him. He could feel himself begin to hyperventilate. He hadn’t wanted to admit to Samantha that hospitals scared the shit out of him when she called. He had come to protect his tough reputation.

  Finally, Mason left Ellen’s side. He gave the nurse a slip of paper with his cell phone number and told her to call him if Ellen woke up. The two men walked, unspeaking, to the elevator. Beads of sweat ran down the side of Mad Dog’s face. The elevator door slid open and the men stepped in. When the door closed, Mad Dog grew more restless. His foot nervously tapped the floor.

  “Come on. Come on…. Hurry the hell up!”

  Mad Dog inhaled and then exhaled when the door opened and they stood in the hospital lobby. Mad Dog strode to the double glass doors, Mason chasing after him. Stepping out onto the pavement, he bent forward. Supporting his hands on slightly bent knees, he exhaled. His breath froze in a frosty white cloud. He sucked in the cold air with sharp deep breaths.

  Mason watched. “What the hell is wrong with you? You have asthma or something?”

  “No.” Gasping, he looked at Mason. “I can’t stand hospitals.”

  Mad Dog looked down, trying to catch his breath.

  Mason burst into laughter.

  Mad Dog eyed him.

  “I can’t help it!” Mason said and looked away, chuckling. “I can’t believe you have a phobia about hospitals.”

  Mad Dog stood straight and then walked toward the parking lot. “Go ahead and laugh you son-of-a-bitch. Just wait…. I’m going to remember this.”

  Mason slapped his hand on Mad Dog’s shoulder. “Hey, I’m sorry. I’ve never known you to be afraid of anything. Who the hell would think you’d fall to pieces walking into a hospital? Did you have some sort of traumatic experience?”

  “No!” Mad Dog opened the door to his Blazer and then got in. “I never liked them.”

  “Who the hell does?” Mason slid into the passenger seat and buckled his seat belt. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

  “As yours is with me.”

  Mad Dog turned his head as he backed out of the parking spot. He gave Mason a furtive glance and then faced forward. He pulled out on to the street. From the corner of his eye, he saw Mason slip his hand into his jacket. A spec of light reflected off a metal object. Mad Dog looked using his rearview mirror. Mason had a pistol tucked in his pocket.

  They stopped at a red light. Christmas lights and decorations twinkled and sparkled from nearly every storefront.

  “What was in that envelope, Rambo?”

  “What envelope?”

  “The one lying on your coffee table the night I came to buy some weed. You were real interested in it. Couldn’t keep your eyes off it. And you looked worried—like you do now.”

  The light changed. Mad Dog proceeded down the street.

  Mason hesitated. “There was money in it. Jack had given me two hundred and fifty thousand dollars to kill you. I was to receive two hundred and fifty more after the job was done.”

  Mad Dog swallowed as a cacophony of emotions whirled inside his head.

  “So you knew from the start about my meeting with Jack? You son-of-a-bitch.” Mad Dog shook his head. “You were there to kill me. What stopped you? Ellen?”

  “I was there to get Jack.”

  “Bullshit, you mother fucker! If you were there for Jack, why’d you stick your gun against my temple? You think I’m fucking stupid? If you’d had your gun on Jack, Ellen wouldn’t be lying in the hospital right now with a bullet in her chest. Explain that!”

  Mad Dog merged onto the freeway. He headed in the opposite direction of Mason’s house. His hands clenched the steering wheel. He rolled down the window to alleviate the suffocating rage.

  “I knew if I didn’t hold it on you, you would’ve killed Jack. Instead of sitting in this car right now, you’d be in the slammer for murder. How do you think your kids would feel if their last living parent was wasting away in prison because he had to have his vigilante justice? You think they’d be proud? I had to make it look like I was on Jack’s side. My bullet had to kill him.”

  Mad Dog sucked in air. The story jived with his suspicions. He glanced at Mason.

  “Why?”

  “You know why.” Mason turned and looked out the passenger window. “You going to tell me where you’re taking me?”

  The cold air from the open window stung Mad Dog’s face. He fought back tears. Rambo unwittingly sacrificed the woman he loved. He did it to make sure the blame for Jack’s death didn’t fall on Mad Dog’s shoulders. A brother who’d voted Rambo out bad.

  “I’m taking you for a ride.”

  Mad Dog exited onto Moorland Road.

  ***

  The men pulled into the parking lot of the Ritz Tavern. Mason swallowed. Familiar Sons of Thunder vehicles formed ranks around the building like a SWAT team waiting to burst in and free a hostage. So this was how things were going to play out. One against the many, in typical biker fashion, Mason thought.

  “What’s this?” Mason asked.

  The driver side window closed. Mad Dog jerked the keys from the ignition and unfastened
his seatbelt. “It’s a party in your honor. But before we go in, hand over the rod.”

  Startled by Mad Dog’s request, Mason cocked his head. “And if I don’t?”

  “You might not be there when Ellen wakes up again.”

  Sliding the Glock from his jacket, Mason gripped the trigger and thought about refusing, but Mad Dog’s cold eyes spoke to the seriousness of the situation. Mason handed it over.

  Mad Dog took the gun.

  A blast of adrenaline revved Mason’s pulse. The gun was loaded.

  Mad Dog grinned. “You afraid, Rambo?”

  “I’m cautious.”

  The men’s eyes deadlocked. The engine cooling in the frigid December night hissed. The enormous street lamp buzzed. Tension squeezed oxygen from the air. Mason’s mind raced to formulate an escape. Holding the pistol, Mad Dog opened the driver’s door.

  “Let’s go party. And no funny business or else.” Mad Dog’s brows rose in a dare.

  Mason got out. A wintry gust of wind whipped snow over the asphalt. Mad Dog followed Mason. Two prospects guarded the door. They blew on bare knuckles and stomped their feet to keep warm. One opened the heavy wood door. Mason stepped into the tavern. A hush descended.

  The icy stares of members of Sons of Thunder trailed Mason as he ventured inside. Spider and Monk spun on barstools to face him. Spider slid off the stool and then walked toward Mason. Mad Dog at the rear, Mason had nowhere to run. He swallowed. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck. A stern looking Spider stopped. They faced off. Mason noticed a bulge under Spider’s cuts. The president’s handlebar mustache twitched. Spider unbuttoned one of the chains fastening his vest and reached inside. Mason blinked. This is it! They’re going to shoot me. Mad Dog must have told them after all. He wondered what it would feel like to be dead.

  A smile broke across the plane of Spider’s jaw as he withdrew his hand. He held out Mason’s cuts.

  “You ought to have this. You’ve more than earned the right to wear the colors of Sons of Thunder. The other brothers were right,” Spider said as he swept his hand in all directions. The men in the room nodded. “Mad Dog and I shouldn’t have voted you out bad.”