by Bellus, HJ
It’s all my fault I went after Saint and have the blood of two innocent men on my hands. She had nothing to do with it. When I came to after my seizure the other night, I realized three things that I need in life. I need to get out of this hospital, get home to my ranch, and apologize to Clover. There just hasn’t been the right opportunity to talk to her, and she’s been fairly scarce since the incident.
“Thanks.” I make eye contact and feel like an even bigger ass when I do. I’ve hurt her for no reason, and it’s not just a normal pain but soul deep because of my own greed.
“You need to take those please. I’m going to remove all your IVs and then wheel you down to see the agents.”
She turns quickly and all of her friendly banter and caring attitude has disappeared courtesy of me.
“Merek and Maverik, can you give us a moment?”
“No.” Clover jumps back from the IV bags and glares at me. “No, if you’re going to fight me or even cause anything, Marvel, I’m going to get another nurse.”
“I’m not.” I slide off the edge of the bed slowly with my hands up—surrendering. “I’m just going to sit here in the wheelchair. I just want to talk to you.”
“No.” Her voice is adamant and way more convincing than I’ve ever seen the meek nurse. “I’m not going to be left alone with you while on duty.”
“Excuse me?” I ask her, tilting my head and running my hand over it.
“See, Marvel, you’re already doing it. I got written up because of you. You do nothing but put me down and cuss me out for saving your life. I don’t want nor deserve this shit from you.”
“Can I talk?” I ask her.
“Fine, Marvel. You already have me cussing at you.” She throws both arms up in the air.
“I’m sorry.”
Clover turns her back to me to continue to work on the IV stands.
“Did you hear me?”
“Yeah but tomorrow you’ll hate me again.”
“Clover, I’m sorry. I’ve been wrong and you need to know that.”
I look over to my brothers who are trying to flee the room and the uncomfortable situation but shake my head side to side to them. She doesn’t want to be left alone with me and has damn good reason.
“You saved my life. I owe you everything.”
Still she keeps her back to me, not acknowledging a single word.
“The night you found me, I wanted to die. I had prayed for death for several days prior. I tried strangling myself with my own two hands and only passed out. Even tried to slit my wrists but ran out of strength.”
I watch as both of her hands fall to her side, yet she remains facing the other way.
“Death is what I yearned and what I deserved, and I still have to fight with myself on a daily basis to remind myself I’m living and safe for now.” I reach out and grab her hand. “You saved me, Clover. Thank you, and please forgive me for everything. That’s what I wanted to say.”
“You know what’s weird, Marvel?” She pulls her hand from mine and raises both of them to her face, and I can only guess she’s wiping away stray tears. “I think I fell in love with you before ever meeting you.”
When she turns around I notice her face is red with tears rolling down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry, I can’t do this. I’ll go get another nurse for you.” Clover doesn’t make any further eye contact with me as she leaves the room. I don’t even try to stop her after witnessing the pain painted on her face.
I hide my face in the palms of my hands, scrubbing them back and forth with regret, not knowing where to begin or how to comprehend the situation. I’ve shattered an innocent person, and not just any person but one who cared for my granddad and me. She saved me, and I’ve destroyed her.
“Hey, I’m Melody and I’m here to transport you down to your interview.” A short, pudgy nurse with gray, frizzy hair stands in the doorway. I give her a nod as I sense how empty my room feels without Clover in it.
“You okay, man?” I look up to Maverik hovering above me and can’t respond. It’s not because I don’t have the energy, rather I don’t know the answer. I know what I need and how to get there, but I’ll have to muster up the courage to make that happen. Now with Clover storming out on me, I’m not sure I have any of the answers.
“You’ll be fine.” Merek pats my shoulder, standing on my other side. “Let’s go get this press conference over with.
The new nurse disappears behind me as I feel the wheelchair begin to move. Once out in the hall the rhythmic sound of my brothers’ boots hitting the tile floor is overwhelming while mingled with slight chatter from nurses and doctors visiting in the hallways. I keep a lookout for a certain brunette nurse, hoping to catch one more glimpse of her and the possibility of talking to her again.
Deep in my gut, I know she’s hurting and done with me. My head spins as I process the fact that I’ve caused more hurt to Clover. The surroundings of the hospital whiz by me as I’m being transported to a fucking press release about my attack. It’s in this moment that I know my life has to change, or everything that has occurred was for nothing. Weston’s death wouldn’t mean anything, and the other man who was slaughtered for helping would vanish into thin air. There has to be justice.
“Maverik.”
My wheelchair stops moving and Maverik steps up next to me.
“Merek.”
My other brother mirrors the actions of Maverik. With both of them huddled around me I let out my biggest fear.
“I’m afraid. I’ve fucked up. Saint will kill all of us, but I won’t go down without a fight. I need you two by my side.” The words catch in my throat, so I pause for a moment, regaining strength. “I need you guys in my life, and I think I’ve really fucked up with Clover.”
“We’re here.” Maverik pats my shoulder. “You’ll never get rid of us.”
“And you’ve always been a fuck up, little brother.” Merek smiles and then pats my back. “We’ve got you.”
I nod, hearing each of their messages.
“There’s no Silver Star without you, Marvel. It would be as good as gone,” Maverik adds.
“I really need to go home.”
“Tomorrow, man, tomorrow.”
The nurse begins wheeling me again toward the agent flagging her down at the end of the hall. The local news is set up and ready to interview me, along with the local sheriff. The speech I’m about to give is rehearsed and very staged and just one of the many baits the FBI has in place to lure Saint in. I don’t have much faith in anything anymore, but if I did, it would be this.
I don’t care for the idea of pissing Saint off again, but it’s all part of the big plan. Me going home tomorrow is also no coincidence, just another piece of bait for Saint to nibble on. The FBI has placed bugs, wires, cameras, and undercover guards acting as employees all over the ranch. It’s the one thing I double and triple checked once agreeing to this wild ass plan, because putting anyone in danger on Silver Star isn’t a choice.
“Ready to go, Marvel?”
I nod to the agent and stand from my wheelchair.
“Oh, we’d like to have you remain in the chair for added effect.”
“I’ll do everything else you’ve asked, but Saint Johnson will see me stand on my own two feet.”
I’ve barely been able to walk a quarter of a mile at a snail’s pace on the treadmill before I’m at complete exhaustion, and I’ve fought hard for this progress, so standing during this interview means everything.
“Okay, stick to the script and the story we’ve talked about. The reporter has been given a script to follow. If she gets off topic we will intervene and stop the interview.”
I nod once more, now standing before the news reporter and steadying myself for the talk of my life. Several bodies invade my area, pinning mics to my collar and powdering my face. I hear several warnings in the background to leave all the bruises and scars visible for the public. I hate all of it as each second ticks by and it only leaves me wanting
to go home even more.
The local reporter whose face is familiar from nightly newscasts begins introducing my story and recapping the whole situation from the date I went missing, how many days I was gone to the state of my health when I was found.
“Marvel Slatter, some say it’s a miracle you were found.” The blonde female news reporter begins. I’m only able to focus in on her plump breasts pushing up from her tight black dress and full lips coated in a crimson-red lipstick. She’s drop dead gorgeous and it’s the only thing right now I’m able to focus in on.
This is worse than having to swallow glass, but I know it’s my only chance of getting Saint prosecuted. Many nights I’ve lain awake in the hospital bed mulling this plan over after the agents and my brothers proposed it. I processed over and over the different things that could go wrong, or the possibility of Saint or one of his men getting to my family. This could all go wrong in a flash, leaving behind nothing but carnage and heartbreak. But through all those sleepless nights, one thing became evidently clear—nothing is a scarier thought than losing the ranch and my will to live. It’s what I’ll fight for.
If only I could be a fly on the wall when Saint Johnson sees this interview. My scarred and still healing face tells a wild tale of survival. His blood will boil, and vengeance will multiply as I recount a story that never happened. Saint’s greed will become his worst enemy, and this time I have the law on my side.
“Do you remember much from that evening, Marvel?”
All I hear is my name, which snaps me back to the reality of the interview.
“I’d like to thank you for taking time for this interview, ma’am.”
She blushes and flips her hair a bit. “Well, you’re welcome, but now let’s get back to that tragic night. What do you remember happening? If anything. I mean, the extent of your injuries were unreal.”
Just like clockwork she leads right into the questions set up by the FBI. I crack my knuckles one at a time and look over to both of my brothers who nod back to me.
“It was just like any other night. My best friend and I were out on the town looking to wind down after work.”
“Now let me ask you this. Is that why you were pulling a trailer that night?”
“Yes, ma’am. We spent a long day of hauling cattle to the sale yard and didn’t take the time to drop it off back home.”
“Now, your buddy was Weston, the one who didn’t make it out of this horrible scene.”
His name, his face, and all the memories of my best friend is the one thing I’ve avoided this whole fucking time, and now it’s here shoved right in front of my face. My chest tightens with anxiety and my palms become sweaty as the vision of his panicked face resurfaces, then hell surrounds all of us.
Tears sting my eyes as the ever-familiar hate and rage storm within me.
“So, Marvel, what exactly do your remember?”
I have to bite my tongue and hold back the real story. The redheaded FBI agent senses it as she prances back and forth on the sidelines. I take in a deep breath and continue on with this bullshit, knowing it’s the only way Saint will ever pay.
“We pulled over to help someone on the side of the road. He didn’t have a car and was lugging around a large suitcase. He was a nice enough man and just needed a ride.”
“And this was Jose, the second victim that night, who also lost his life.”
I fight the visions of witnessing another man take his last breath and carry on telling the bullshit story. “Yes, unfortunately he did. Once he was in the car he made a phone call from my phone to have a friend come pick him up. We continued driving to town. I’m not sure what kind of trouble Jose was in, but once whoever he called from my phone showed up, that’s when all hell broke loose.”
“There’s lots of speculation about this part of the story, Marvel, with the most popular belief being drugs. Were there drugs involved?”
“I’m not sure. The FBI is tracking down the person who was on the other line and getting prints from what’s left of my truck. All I remember was being beaten and then everything else is very murky.”
I talk in circles for what seems like another hour, dodging information she wants and only commenting with what I was prepped to say. I don’t miss every opportunity to stare right into the camera and make some comments just for Saint, knowing the message won’t be lost on the devil himself.
“Well, thank you for your time this morning, Marvel. The whole community is behind your recovery. Best of luck.”
“Thank you.” I give the reporter one last nod before the cameras flip off and I hear “that’s a wrap” in the background. Her crew scurries about, un-micing people and gathering up all the equipment. No one person from the news crew acknowledges me again once the lights go off.
“Good job, Marvel, you nailed it.” Jillian pats me on the back as the rest of the agents and my brothers swarm me.
“I feel like fucking trash. I just made an innocent man who tried to help me look like a thug. There’s nothing to feel good about.” I stand and pause a second, waiting for my head to stop spinning before I take a step. The same nurse is at my wheelchair, waiting on me. I instantly spiral into an even more pissed off mood when I don’t see Clover there.
Everything right now feels wrong and dirty, but I battle through the emotions trying not to let them bring me down. With each step toward the wheelchair, the pain spikes up my spine. I may be going home tomorrow, but I’m far from healed.
13
Clover
The hospital is lonely since Marvel was sent home. I’m not walking on pins and needles, never knowing what wave of emotion will blast me next. I do find it easier to focus on my job, though.
“Clover.”
My name startles me as I clutch my purse in the parking lot.
“Clover.”
My name sounds again and I finally spot Ella’s wild blonde hair blowing up in the breeze with her cowboy standing next to her. She looks ready to pop but still has a smile plastered on her face.
“Oh, hey.” I grab my chest. “You scared me.”
“Sorry, we haven’t seen you in a couple of days and wanted to say hi.”
“Yeah, extra shifts at the hospital and my beauty rest, you know.” I try to sound light and fun while fluffing up my hair but just feel awkward as hell.
“Well, I’ve wanted to come over when I’ve seen your car home, but Maverik told me to leave you alone.”
I feel a heated flush take over my face remembering that dreadful afternoon in Marvel’s room in front of his brothers.
Maverik steps up to me. “I’m really sorry for the way my brother has treated you.”
“No, stop, please. I’m the one who should apologize. I should’ve never treated a patient the way I did that day.”
As painful as the words are, they are the truth. I let myself go too far with Marvel.
“Bullshit.” Maverik’s gruff voice makes me jump back a bit. “There’s no damn excuse for how cruel he was to you. End of story.”
“He was the patient and I was supposed to be the professional.”
I watch as Maverik’s jaw tenses and he goes to make another point but is stopped by Ella before he can spit out another word.
“Okay this could go on forever, but here’s the gist of it. Slatters never act that way—period. Marvel is going through some bad stuff right, now but he’ll be okay.” Ella places her hand on my shoulder. “Granddad misses you and so do the rest of us. You’re a breath of fresh air for us, Clover. Come over to Granddad’s tonight. We are celebrating lil’ Mav’s birthday.”
Immediately I feel lightheaded and sick to my stomach knowing Marvel is there. I heard he demanded to go to his own house but was forced to go to Granddad’s with home care nurses.
“Probably not the best idea even though I do miss you guys.”
“Well, I know you have another date with Sterling tonight. I’ll tell him to drag your ass over.” Maverik looks down at his wristwatch. “We have to go
, Ella. Time to go see our babies.”
“It’s just dinner, not a date.” The tone of my voice comes across as defensive, making me feel like an asshole because Sterling has been nothing but a gentlemen to me.
Ella rolls her eyes and lightly elbows Maverik in the ribs. “Come over tonight, I mean it.”
I only shrug and wish her well before turning to walk the rest of the way to my car. My reflection stares back at me from the tinted windows of my car. Stray hairs whirl around in the air, and my pale complexion is evident along with the dark lines under my eyes. Tonight will be the third time Sterling and I have had dinner together. He’s a great guy and super easy to carry a conversation with, but that’s it.
My phone rings as I begin the drive out to Silver Star to clean up before Sterling arrives. When I look down I see my mom’s picture and number. I stare at it for a few seconds before my common sense kicks in to answer it. I haven’t talked to her in weeks.
“Hell-o.” I stutter over one simple word.
“Clover.”
“Hey, Mom.” Even as cold as she can be, the sound of her voice makes me miss home and everything I once knew.
“Not much time here, just calling because my brother said you moved out and chose to run with some shady people in his county.”
“Uh.” I turn my car onto Silver Star Ranch and put it in park, trying to process each of her words.
“You moved out of Saint’s when he offered you a perfectly good home.”
“Mom, he kicked me out.”
“Clover, seriously, you can’t even handle being a good house guest. I’m so damn disappointed in you for letting down my own brother.”
“Mom, you’re not listening to me.” My voice cracks as emotions begin to flood my thoughts and attack my speech.
“Oh, I am. I really thought a rural country town would help you crack out of that damn shell of yours. You’re never going to get anywhere pissing off family and working minimum wage as a public servant.”
“I love my job,” I whisper into the phone.
“Just like your fucking father who’s dead set on being average.” Her venomous voice rings so familiar, as it was what I always heard growing up. “I can’t even deal with you right now, Clover. You need to make nice with your uncle.”
