Hawk

by Abigail Graham

  We use the exact same form at the exact same time. The wooden blades cross with lethal intensity, and shatter together. I jump back, feeling a flying chunk of bamboo that nearly hit my eye carve a slice in my cheek. Dad stumbles back, throws away his shattered sword, and then I lunge at him, throwing mine away.

  We go down together. No forms, no elegance, just brawling. He punches me square in the jaw and holds nothing back. I drive my fist into his stomach. Now we grapple. He's bigger, stronger than I am, but I'm twisty and lithe and I break his grips and slide loose, go for his neck, his leg.

  Almost. Almost.

  "Listen to me, God damn it," he rasps in my ear as he tightens a sleeper hold around my throat. "We can do this all fucking night and we'll still come right back to the same problem."

  Damn him.

  Damn him to hell.

  He's right.

  I go slack and he lets go. He turns away onto his back and leaves me lying on the grass.

  "This isn't over."

  "Fine. Put it aside for now. We have a job to do. This new museum wing opens in two weeks. We make our move then."

  "What about the access codes?"

  "I have the passcode. It's the encryption key we need. It doesn't matter if I have that now, it'll be rotated by the time we need to break in."

  He doesn't even sound winded, damn it.

  "Wait," I pant, "How'd you get the code?"

  "It's the daughter's birthday. Same code Carol uses for her luggage."

  "Are you fucking kidding me?"

  "No. It doesn't really matter what it is without the rotating key. It never hit me before. They rotate. Carol doesn't memorize a sixteen digit code every two weeks. She keeps it written somewhere for when she needs it to get into the damned vault."

  "Why don't we just take the stupid thing when they bring it out?"

  He shakes his head. "Too public, too messy. No, it needs to disappear. I mean to have the job done, have the merchandise delivered, and be out of the country within twelve hours."

  "What do they even want a fucking painting for?"

  "I don't know. Sell it? I don't care, as long as they give us a chance to slip away."

  "Then we'll be looking over our shoulders for the rest of our lives."

  "Better than being dead."

  "You have a plan?"

  "I'm working on it. Access is key. I want the painting out before it's displayed."

  He sits up. "Get some rest. I'll lay out what I have for you to study. We have something to do on Saturday."

  "What?"

  "A wedding. Carol wants a proper ceremony with all her friends."

  "Are you fucking kidding me?"

  "I kid you not. You're my best man."

  He goes inside, and leaves me laying out on the grass. I pinch my nose and touch my cheek. The blood has clotted. It won't even scar. I slowly get to my knees, then my feet, and send one of the broken swords spinning with a kick. I growl out loud, clutch my hair in my hands and lean on the back of the house. What am I going to do? I'm stuck. I have no choice. It really is over.

  It was better this way. Better for me, better for her most of all. I never should have gotten involved at all. I've been a fifth wheel on this whole job, just getting in the way or getting myself in trouble. If I'd never laid eyes on Diana I'd be that much better off.

  The way she looked at me today. Her eyes. Such beautiful eyes, so unique. More than just the colors, the spark of light and life, the fire that fills her every mood and movement and word. I want her in a way I've never wanted anything. I was right. I'm in a prison, trapped behind invisible walls, but I'm the one who put them up. I can blame my father all I want to, but he didn't send me looking for hookups or chances to blow money at casinos. I'm the one who did those things, me and no one else.

  Diana really does deserve better… and she deserves to make her own choices.

  I don't know what to do. I don't want her mother to be hurt. I barely know her, but this is wrong. A no-strings attached lay is one thing, marrying the damned woman is not. He's gone too far, pushed too hard. He's nervous and scared and it's making him sloppy and impulsive, no matter how cool he looks. You know a man when he fights, and I was fighting a man on edge just now. He's going to make a mistake.

  I think he's going to get us all killed.

  The walk upstairs is a trudge. I'm aching all over, I have a pretty bruise on my face that I hope will fade by Saturday, if we actually go through with this insanity. Avoiding Diana will be easy enough, but in two days I'll have to see her.

  God damn it.

  After I've showered and thrown my grass stained clothes in the hamper, I fall into bed and stare at the ceiling. After sleeping with Diana all week, lying in bed alone is about the last thing I want to do. I want her here with me so bad. I want to know her. All her stories, all her quirks.

  I want to tell her about myself. I want her to know the truth, what I am, what I'm sorry I've become.

  We were supposed to be Gentleman Thieves. Anti-heroes fighting the system. Robbing from the rich and… I guess I never gave much to the poor, unless buying too many girl scout cookies counts. The boxes of thin mints sit on the nightstand, lined up like soldiers, taunting me with the smiling faces on the boxes. I'll never be one of those people. Family. Home. These things are not for the likes of me. I thought I was Robin Hood but I'm just scum, just an up jumped lowlife, taking advantage of girls, taking what isn't mine for my own gain.

  Oh. Oh fuck me.

  I'm the bad guy.

  Better get my sleep. I've got a wedding to attend. I'll have to press my tux, shine my shoes, and get ready to rip out my own heart.

  The most beautiful girl in the world hates me now, and for her sake I have to let her.

  Chapter 12: Diana

  It's not going to be a very formal affair. There is no bridesmaid dress for me, which disappoints me a little.

  I was exaggerating about Mom's love life. She dated one guy, Alan, for almost a year. Really sweet guy, always very nice to me, and not in a creepy way. In my girlish way I had hopes that they'd get married, he'd move in, and, well, I'd have a dad. I wanted to be a flower girl; back then I was too young to be a bridesmaid. Now I'm going to be the Maid of Honor and there is something deeply wrong about all this. No wedding dress, no huge production. Mom is going to wear a white skirt and blazer and I'm going to wear a simple yellow sun dress. About twenty people are coming.

  Steven hasn't invited anybody, as far as I can tell. The groom's side will be filled out by, well…

  Apollo. Apollo is coming with him. He would be, I suppose. He might be the best man. The ceremony is going to be performed in the living room. The reception will be outside, on the green. The museum will be open during all this. Mom insisted, apparently. I am not looking forward to this at all. It's now about nine in the morning, and the wedding is at noon. Mom, being Mom, is already dressed, and pacing in her bedroom. The last time I saw her, she was barefoot, her pumps sitting next to the bed. She doesn't usually wear heels. They're red. I didn't know she owned them.

  I guess there's a lot of things about her I don't know.

  In my mind I end up going through every possibility. She's been hypnotized or something, he's pressuring her somehow, he's learned some terrible museum secret and he's blackmailing her, but every possibility I come up with is either petty or stupid. They met, they clicked, they eloped, these things happen.

  For some reason, I close my door, sit down at the mirror, and go about making myself pretty. I have a necklace with emeralds and tiger eyes that offsets my differently colored eyes, and there's a lot of green in my dress. I'm not being super fancy with my hair, just braiding and tying it back with a ribbon. My eyes are still red rimmed, my cheeks still bear red track marks. I've been crying. A lot.

  Before, I didn't know what I was missing. Now I thought I had something special and for so brief a time, just enough to start to know it before it was ripped out of my chest.

  I should
n't get this emotional over a guy, especially a guy I had a fling with, basically.

  It's just that it feels like more than that.

  He wanted to tell me something, but he couldn't make himself do it. I don't know what that means. I don't know what anything means anymore. Even that stack of acceptance letters on my desk feels hollow. I can do what I want, on my own terms, something I wanted for so long. Mom, Charity, everybody is so sure that happiness is right around the corner. What if it was, and I turned the wrong way?

  I'm being silly. I don't believe in stupid things like love at first sight. I barely even know him. He lost his virginity to a stripper, even if he did make it sound… if not romantic, somehow exotic.

  "Diana?"

  Mom hasn't sounded this nervous in a long time. I walk over to the bedroom and peek in the door. She's sitting on the bed.

  "How do I look?"

  I'm not sure what she wants me to say. The way she's done up her hair makes more of the gray show, and she went light on makeup. She's pretty, looks ten years younger than she is, and she's pretty lean from her crazy hours and weird diet. She looks vulnerable, though. I've never seen her look like this.

  She pats the bed next to her. I slip into the room and sit down at her side.

  "Are you okay? You're not having second thoughts, are you?"

  "Of course I am. This is all so surreal. When I'm with him everything makes perfect sense, but my God, I married a man I knew for less than five days and now I'm going to reaffirm it in front of all my friends."

  I grab her hand. "You know, it's easy to get an annulment on these crazy Vegas marriages."

  I have no idea if that's true or not, but it sounds right, right?

  She shakes her head. "No, I'm just nervous, that's all. I know you don't approve of this."

  "I'm not sure what I approve of. I mean, if he's like his son…"

  She smiles, but it's a wan, sad smile. "Oh, he is."

  Oh my God. I turn beet red, feel the flush creeping up my face.

  She laughs. "You will always be my daughter. I wish we could be close again, like when you were younger. What happened to us?"

  "I grew up and you didn't like it."

  I blink a few times, and my eyes are wet. Oh, come on. Not now.

  She puts her arms around me and I have to scrub at my eyes with my fingers and try to hold back the tears.

  "I didn't want you to leave me. I'm so sorry. For so long you've been all I have. I don't know how you came to think the museum was more important to me, but I'm sorry. I hope we can find a way to mend it."

  "So, are you going on a honeymoon?"

  She pulls back. "No, I don't think so. We sort of did that already." She sniffs, and grabs a tissue to rub at her eyes. "I'll be happy when this is over. It's just nerves. I don't even know why I'm doing it."

  "You want him to be part of your life. Um."

  "Yes?"

  I sigh. "Are we moving in with them? Are they moving in with us?"

  "I don't know about Apollo. Steven will move in here. His son is a grown man. I would hope he would have the sense not to, given…"

  I fold my hands in my lap and look at the floor.

  "He's not the only fish in the sea, Diana. At least you didn't discover he was wrong for you five years from now, or longer."

  "Yeah. I just…"

  "Yes?"

  My sigh turns into a sob. "What if he is right for me? It felt so right. I've never felt like that with anybody before."

  "I thought you liked Lucas."

  My head shoots up. "Mom, where did you get that ridiculous idea? Lucas is a he-whore and he's awful. I don't trust him to be alone with me, much less date him."

  "Why didn't you tell me."

  "I tried. You weren't listening."

  She rests her forehead against the side of my head. "I know. I'm sorry, sweetie. My ears are open now. What are you trying to tell me?"

  "I don't know."

  She sighs, and stands up. "The guests will be arriving soon. We need to be presentable."

  I nod. "I just need my shoes."

  "You look beautiful. I should have told some of my friends to bring their sons. You'll have ten of them sniffing after you by the end of the night."

  I snort. "I'm not in the mood. Maybe after I have some college credits under my belt."

  "Don't wait too long. I know we haven't had a real talk about this, but as long as you're careful and use protection, there's nothing wrong with some… experimentation."

  I just stare at her. She stands up, and I flee the room before she explains what she meant. Back in my own room, I finish getting ready, slip into my own shoes, and head downstairs to greet the guests. Bob is the first to arrive. He chats with Mom while the caterers set up. Antonio's is taking care of the food. For that, I am very happy. Unfortunately I can't touch it until this farce is over. I try not to look bitter. I want some of that gnocchi they're warming up in a chafing dish. One by one by two, more guests trickle in, and then about fifteen arrive at once.

  The groom appears last.

  My heart skips when I see Apollo. He gets out of the car and looks at me for the briefest second before turning away to open the door for his father, and my knees go weak. A look of genuine anguish crumples his face as he turns away from me. His father walks into the house, beaming, as my mother runs off to hide. I'm going to have to go get her in a moment. I do the greeting.

  "Hello, Diana," Apollo mutters, looking away from me.

  "Hello, Apollo."

  When he thinks I'm not looking he stares at me, and I swear I see a tear threatening to form in his eye. He looks like he's going to his grave.

  There is something wrong here.

  He brightens up when it's time for me to go get Mom. She's pacing the dining room, and grins nervously when she sees me. I nod and take her arm, and we walk out into the living room.

  For a moment this feels real, and right. All her friends are here. Bob is going to officiate. The living room has never felt so bright, so full. I find myself smiling. I walk up to Bob with her, and she stands next to the man she's already married. Vows are exchanged, they sound like something on TV. He puts a ring on her finger, and there's clapping. I join in. So does Apollo.

  He's the only one not smiling. I start to frown too, then force myself to perk up when Mom turns to face me.

  Please, don't hurt her. Not now. Please don't hurt my mother, I beg you.

  From there it's a simple matter of going through the reception motions.

  My unease grows by the instant. I watch this stranger dance with my mother to an Elvis CD playing on her old boombox.

  Fools rush in, indeed.

  I just need to get away from Apollo and get my mind off of all of this. Dinner first, then cake. That steamer tray full of gnocchi has my name all over it. Antonio's makes the best, the sauce thick with ricotta cheese and bits of sausage, all stewed together to perfection.

  Then Apollo grabs my arm.

  "We need to talk."

  "No."

  "Please. Diana please, just give me a few minutes. I'm begging you."

  "Fine. Where?"

  "Outside. Anywhere but here."

  I slip away from the revelry and Apollo follows. I can feel his eyes on me, drinking me in, pulling me to him. I try to make myself full of cold fury directed at him, but I just can't. Sooner or later people are going to see us talking.

  'This way."

  I lead him through the back door and out behind the house. As soon as the door closes, I round on him.

  "What is it? What do you want?"

  "We need someplace more private."

  "Not a chance in hell. You're lucky I went this far with you."

  "Diana, please. You need to hear what I have to say. Please."

  Damn him to hell.

  "Fine," I sigh. "This way."

  There's a path that leads away from the old house, towards the viewing pond. There's a bench and a stand of trees here, a perfect place to tal
k about whatever this is.

  "You can't mean to make a play for me," I snap at him. "You’re my brother now. Stepbrother. Whatever."

  He rubs at his eyes. Why is there a big bruise on his jaw? How did I not spot that before? I almost reach for it but clutch my hands together instead.

  "Say what you have to say, or I'm leaving."

  "I'm not who you think I am. Neither of us is."

  I blink a few times. "What the hell are you talking about."

  "There is no easy way to say this, so I'm just going to say it. Are you listening?"

  "Yes."

  He tenses, drawing in a breath that doesn't come out. Something is happening here. I feel everything slowing down, the world thickening like oil in the cold. Something that's going to define the rest of my life is about to happen.

  "My father and I are professional thieves. We're here to steal that Vermeer painting. The whole point of this is to get close to your mother so we can get the passcode and encryption key for the vault."

  I snicker. Then I snort. Then I bust out laughing.

  "Is this a joke? Do you think you can feed me some lame story so I'll forget what I…" I close my mouth and turn away.

  "Diana please, listen to me. This is not a joke or a wild story or a prank. It's the truth, I swear on my mother's grave." His voice tightens. "Please."

  When I turn back I see the wet in his eyes.

  I haul off and slap him, hard. I throw my full body into it. When my hand connects to his jaw it snaps his head to the side and he stumbles. Then I do it again, knock him the other way. He falls to his knees.

  "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have let this happen. I should have done something sooner, but it was too late and… I couldn't. I couldn’t just use you and leave. I need you."

  "Need me? Fuck you, Apollo. Do you think I believe this bullshit? Professional thieves? Do I look stupid?"

  "You… you don't believe…"

  He rises to his feet so quick I jump back a step, stumble, almost fall, and he grabs my arms. His grip is like a pair of vices clamped on my wrists.

  "Listen to me. What do you know about my father? About me? Think about all the times you asked me questions and I completely evaded them. Think, Diana. How long has he been on the donor list, do you know?"