Concealed Affliction

by Harlow Stone

  I turn around from placing the dishes in the dishwasher and come face to face with Denny. His hands are at his sides. He towers over me in my little kitchen and studies my face for a moment, not in an uncomfortable way, but like he’s trying to see all of me. I allow him this moment before he speaks.

  “When you told us the answer would always be yes, for killing that guy, did you mean it?”

  I look up into those piercing blue eyes of his, not hesitating for a second.

  “Absolutely.”

  He studies my face for a few more moments before nodding his head.

  “Good.”

  He leans down and places a kiss on top of my head, before turning around and heading for the front door.

  “Thanks for the food, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I give a small pathetic salute goodbye, once again thanking my family and the universe for bringing such awesome people into my life.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “What color?”

  I look at the reflection of the hair stylist in the mirror. She’s a little older than me with bright red spiky hair. I love her color. It’s daring. It’s bold. Knowing I can’t venture down that road today, I settle on what I came here for.

  “Blonde, but leave a little light brown throughout.”

  She studies me for a few moments before nodding her head.

  “Contrast, I like it. I’ll go mix up the colors.”

  By the time the blow dryer starts up, I’m lost in thought. I never thought I’d see something resembling the old me in the mirror. I haven’t seen light hair in a long time. I like it, and sometimes I miss it, but I plan to dye it back with a box of dye as soon as I cross the border.

  My face is already different from what it used to be. Those sweet cheeks and that southern belle look I had are long gone. Not wanting more questions than I can answer at the border, I settle on my old hair which is the most predominant feature in my passport photo. At the time my hair was in huge curls and nearly down to my ass.

  “Well, what do you think?”

  The stylist takes the cape off and gives me a reassuring smile. My dark brown is now light in giant curls with lowlights throughout. It’s beautiful. She did a great job, but I know I can’t keep it.

  “It’s great. Thank you.”

  I pay in cash and head back toward home. I’ve tied up all I needed to here. I got my passport out of my safe deposit box and replaced it with my guns, knowing I can’t take them with me across the border.

  I filled out a slip, listing Denny Black as next of kin in the event I die and my money and guns are still stuck here. Not that they’d really know, since I would die as Jayne O’Connor and not Elle Davidson. But Ryder and Denny would know and I plan to leave the information with Denny just in case. The rent for the deposit box will come out of my account, which has more than enough to cover it. I also stashed twenty thousand in the box; you can never have too much stashed somewhere. You never know when you might need it.

  It has certainly come in handy this past year, cash money that is. I silently thank my father for not completely trusting banks and always being prepared. They had a huge safe at their home. A few months after they passed, I located the money, close to a million dollars in cash. It didn’t surprise me. He’d been putting it away in there for decades, always living by the rule that you can never be too careful. I took close to half of it with me and transferred some of it via Western Union before I left Canada. It’s been more than enough to get me by without needing to use Canadian bank cards to alert Braumer of my location, or anyone else for that matter.

  I pull into my driveway, noting Denny’s truck is already here. I hop out and meet him at the steps.

  “All ready to move in?”

  “Yup, got two duffels in the truck.”

  He won’t stop grinning at me.

  “Diggin’ the blonde, darlin’.”

  I shake my head.

  “Well, don’t get used to it. I have a box of brown dye in the truck for after I cross the border.”

  “Noted,” he replies.

  He follows me up the steps and greets Norm when she bursts her healthy ass through the door.

  “So, since you don’t have much, I don’t have to worry about my boxes of clothing taking up too much space in the closet?”

  “No worries, darlin’.”

  I walk into the bathroom and begin packing up my stuff I left out for this morning. There is still no feeling of emptiness as I pack. It’s like my mind is set on Canada and nothing else will get in my way. I know I’m leaving, therefore my body doesn’t stop to give me time to dwell on the fact I may never see this place again.

  I grab my toiletries bag and head back into the main room, looking around, making sure I didn’t forget anything.

  “You leaving everything in the fridge?”

  I peer toward the kitchen, noting the surprise on Denny’s face. It’s still full of food, condiments and beer. A bottle of wine, or five.

  “Yes. Don’t drink it all in one night.”

  He grins at me over the door and comes out with a beer.

  “I didn’t wash the sheets and there’s still a load of towels in the dryer. I hate folding.”

  I start walking out the back door, wanting one last view from my porch before I go.

  “Darlin’, I’ve slept on dirt. The sheets are fine. Might call Toni to see if she makes house calls.”

  I laugh a little and look out at the water. This is it. It’s time to go.

  I turn and look at Denny for what too may be the last time.

  “I left my guns and some cash in a safe deposit box at this bank. Here’s the slip. I put your name on it, in case I don’t make it back here.”

  Denny looks down at the paper in my hands, not wanting to take it, but knowing I won’t leave with it.

  “I don’t like when you talk like that, darlin’. Why don’t you let one of us come with you, watch your back?”

  I shake my head at him. I never want anyone close to where I once endured hell, where four innocent people have already lost their lives.

  “Enough people have died because they were involved with me, Denny. I don’t need any more of that weight on my chest. I’ll be fine.”

  I shove the paper into his hands and stare back out at the water. Only it’s not just the water, Ryder is standing there.

  “He’s right, Elle.”

  I feel an extra layer of ice coat my chest, not willing or wanting him to show that he cares about me. Sure, he cares about the lives of others in general. He just doesn’t give one fuck about the heart and soul of them.

  Or maybe he just didn’t care about mine.

  “Well as much as I appreciate the concern, I don’t need it. I paid for information, not a high priced body guard or pep talks from one, Ryder.”

  I reach out and give Denny a one armed hug.

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem. Hey, what about the gym room? Did you look after that?”

  “It’s yours until the end of the month.”

  He gives me a squeeze on the shoulder and I descend the steps. I look at Ryder as I near him, not bothering to put the sunglasses on my face because there’s no emotion to hide in my eyes. I feel nothing. Normally I’d take in the beauty of his body, encased in black boots, dark jeans and his long sleeve shirt pushed up to his elbows.

  Normally I’d study the way his almost black hair falls around his face and the darkness of his eyes. They used to make me melt.

  I don’t do any of that.

  I walk on, with my head held high and back straight. I never thought for one second I’d be able to leave without seeing him again. In fact, I expected it.

  “It may not mean much beautiful, but you weren’t just some random woman to me. You’re still not.”

  I pause in my steps and look at this contradicting man.

  “So while I wasn’t just some random woman, you still felt the need to run to another one Ryder?”

  He s
hoves his hands through his hair.

  “It wasn’t like that, Elle. Fuck, I didn’t think I’d see you again in all honesty.”

  “It’s okay Ryder. I get it. Just answer one question for me. Did you fuck her after you first saw my scars and took off for work? Or was it when you left me in Indy? Actually, you know what, I don’t want to know.”

  He looks down to the ground, avoiding eye contact.

  “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

  I know what he means, and as much as I didn’t want to know, I’m thankful for the information. It still confirms what a sack of shit he is. If I were weaker I’d belittle myself and think what kind of man wouldn’t want some smooth-skinned beautifully poised woman after witnessing the hell that is my back.

  But I’m stronger than that weak belittling woman.

  Fuck him, fuck her, and fuck you too.

  “Well, that’s refreshing. You know, I once said I didn’t want to be a job to you. But that’s exactly what I was, wasn’t it Ryder?”

  His head whips up, his black eyes piercing mine.

  “That’s not true!”

  I walk closer, so we’re toe to toe. I look up into those black eyes for what I’m sure will be the last time.

  “You didn’t fuck me until I accepted your help. Is that your game Ryder? Bring in the clients, then fuck them? In both senses of the word? Because it sounds like poor Claudia missed you while you were here, working with and fucking me. I guess it’s true what they say, isn’t it?”

  Hard eyes stare back at mine.

  “What’s that, Elle?”

  “Don’t mix business with pleasure. It’s like oil and water handsome, they don’t mix. Hopefully not being able to keep your dick in your pants doesn’t affect your reputation.”

  “When did you become such a bitch again, Elle. Huh? Answer that!”

  I lean in close, speaking low.

  “I was a bitch from the day you met me. The only difference now is that you actually deserve to see this side of me. You deserve it and anything else karma fucks you with. I gave you something I never gave anybody, so shame on you, Ryder Callaghan, for taking that for granted. I promise, you’ll regret it.”

  He hisses through clenched teeth.

  “I already do.”

  I take a step back and put my sunglasses on.

  “Good.”

  I step around him and walk toward my truck. I don’t look back when I open the door to throw my bag in. I don’t acknowledge that Norma is still sitting at his feet when I whistle for her. I don’t let the fact that he looks incredibly remorseful and defeated get to me.

  I don’t think anything, I don’t do anything. I just move, like I’m on auto pilot. I get the dog in the truck. I put on my seatbelt. I turn on the truck. I back out of the driveway. I drive.

  All, on auto pilot.

  Feeling nothing.

  Seeing nothing.

  Smelling nothing.

  Numb.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Identification please, ma’am.”

  I fucking hate ma’am. Almost as much as I hated the last shit motel we stayed at. This trip was not as well planned as the others. Long story short, I slept on top of the covers and debated getting a bottle of bleach to bathe with.

  Traveling with a large dog is not always glamorous and a lot of people don’t always want them in their establishment. This left us with ‘The Nifty Fifty’ alongside the interstate.

  It wasn’t ‘Nifty’.

  It wasn’t clean.

  I hand over my passport, plastering on my fake but tired from traveling smile. The young border security guard I don’t even think reads my name before he’s handing it back to me. Maybe the pricey visit to the salon wasn’t needed after all.

  “Thank you, ma’am. Where you headed?”

  I look at my poor dog in the rear view mirror and point over my shoulder.

  “First stop will be a large patch of grass. Second is just north of Toronto.”

  He nods his head, not giving a shit what I’m saying.

  “Okay, drive safe.”

  I give a small wave over my shoulder and wonder how much money I could’ve made smuggling a few pounds of blow just now, or how much safer I’d have felt being back in Canada with my hand guns. I totally could’ve brought them.

  Errant thoughts of drug smuggling and weapons aside, I drive on.

  I do as I told him and stop at the next rest area, letting my girl out and stretching my legs. I’d like to say it feels good to be back home, or bad. Something, anything. But I still feel nothing.

  After a much needed bathroom break and recirculating the blood back through my body, we reluctantly get back in the truck. I know where I’m going first, it’s a few more hours but I don’t plan on stopping until I get there.

  * * *

  I pull up in the driveway and punch in the code for the large wooden gate to the rear parking lot.

  Still the same.

  The gate opens and I pull in, watching it close fully behind me before driving around back. There’s a garage door at the front, but I don’t know how full the shop is so I opted for the back lot.

  It’s not huge, but large enough to park about six vehicles with grass at the rear. There’s eight-foot privacy fencing surrounding the lot, which is perfect. Also one of the reasons I chose to come here first.

  It’s dark out, but the small light on the back of the building allows me to see enough to get to the door. Norma is wagging her tail, knowing exactly where we are. I wait for her to take care of business before punching in the code for the back door.

  I open it and smell the scent of my past. Paint and ink. Slightly sterile, but welcoming all the same. I don’t stick around downstairs. The lights are all off, so I make my way to the apartment upstairs.

  Not wanting to scare the living shit out of him, I knock first.

  No answer.

  I open the door, walk in, and close it behind me. Nothing has changed. Beautiful paintings still line the walls, biker memorabilia takes up every shelf and the big black leather couch looks just as comfy as the last time I was here. I walk around the corner and notice the mess that is his kitchen. Take out boxes and a few empty beer bottles. This place is like his junk drawer, the shop is his pride and joy which he keeps clean.

  I make my way down the hall toward the bedroom and peer inside. There he lies, sprawled out on his back, boots still on. His dark brown hair is short but messy. He has always been tanned, always has a scruffy face and always looks handsome. He has a sharp jaw and masculine features. He has tattoos on most of his well-toned body and the ladies flock to him like a fat kid running after the ice cream truck.

  Norma doesn’t waste a minute once she sees him, remembering this is the one house she was allowed on the furniture. She jumps as much as her heavy body can handle and lunges onto the bed. He jumps up, startled, and gets a large white furry dog body plastered to his chest. Norm is whimpering, snuggling into the man she hasn’t seen in almost a year. His arms close around Norma and his eyes move up until they meet mine in the doorway.

  “If you were a guy, I’d hit you Jay.”

  I smile at my best guy friend, missing our banter.

  “I missed you too, Jimmy.”

  He shakes his head and gives Norm the love she was waiting for. She flops her body down on his lap. I hear him groan.

  “When did Norm put on the pork?”

  I push off the doorway and move into the room, flopping down on the bed which smells like hookers and cigarettes, staring up at the ceiling.

  “When I found it too hard to cook for one.”

  He too flops back on the bed and we both turn to face each other, our heads about two feet apart.

  “You park out back?”

  I nod my head.

  “Didn’t hear the buzzer, I was out cold. I painted until three in the morning, then worked all day.”

  That’s definitely something Jimmy would do. When he gets into something,
he doesn’t like to stop until it’s finished.

  “How’s the shop?”

  He stares at me for a few moments then claps his hands, using the cheesy device to turn on his lights. I know why he did it. Sure, the hair and my build is pretty much the same. But being this close, he’d now notice my face. He stares at me for a while, not saying anything. I don’t turn away. Jimmy isn’t judging me, he’s just getting a good view of his new but old best friend.