The Inheritance 4

by Zelda Reed

  ______

  Ashleigh’s quick about packing up her things, all of it fitting into one pink suitcase with her initials sewn on the front.

  She leaves behind the smell of perfume and a low level of noise that buzzes through the condo. I open the balcony door and release hundreds of hushed conversations between her and my father, her and Chris, me and her.

  Call me heartless but it’s easy to cut her out of my life, like snipping a model out of a fashion magazine. I carefully cut around her edges and stuffed her in the bottom of my trash can along with the others I’ve discarded through the years.

  Soft wind blows through the condo, kicking up a pile of napkins on the coffee table. Three of them soar over the rug and around the corner, heading towards my father’s bedroom.

  Ashleigh’s left the door wide open. I can see the foot of my father’s bed, the start of his wardrobe and half of his private balcony. The sun streams across his wooden floor, drawing thick yellow lines, fading towards my toes.

  I move towards my father’s room, chest tightening with every step. A flash of his bloodied shirt appears in the forefront of my mind, my thumb sliding over bright red cuffs, flakes of blood dropping to the floor. I feel momentarily dizzy but push forward, one hand against the wall to steady myself.

  Closer now I smell the warmth of the bathroom, Ashleigh’s shampoo floating through the air. I’ve never seen my father’s en suite. The last time I was in his room the door was closed.

  The tip of my toes press into the gold bar, separating my father’s bedroom from the rest of the condo.

  The nerves brewing in my stomach spread like lightening to the tips of my fingers and toes, electric bolts tangling in my throat, reaching towards my brain.

  Don’t go in there, you don’t know what you’ll find.

  I don’t really know my father. I’ve seen him angry and content but I’ve never seen him happy – not in the wedding photos with my mother, or when he kissed Gina and Darlene good morning. I’ve never seen him sad, even during the rare moments Martin called to tell him his mother phoned again. I’ve never seen him envious or spiteful or overjoyed or in love.

  It hits me, that if my father did love Ashleigh, I wouldn’t know it. I’ve never seen him with stars in his eyes.

  This is what propels me forward – my knowledge of my vast ignorance.

  The sheets on my father’s bed are carelessly rumpled, thrown towards the foot in a silky ball of red. The pillows are pressed together neatly, the outline of Ashleigh’s head faint on the left one.

  My father’s balcony has a view of the beach. Tourists and locals alike tan and splash in the water, mere specks in the distance.

  I remember Darlene liked to sit out here and read. I try to imagine her lounging on the lawn chair, her long brown legs propped on the railing, a book in one hand, coffee in the other.

  The wardrobe remains, pushed to the wall opposite the bed. Gina’s messy pile of clothes are long gone, replaced by a wide empty space. My father didn’t have too many clothes. A few suits in varying shades of black and grey, a pile of neatly folded shirts, a tall drawer of ties, but nothing to fill an entire closet.

  I remove everything, starting with the suits in garment bags, then the blazers with elbow patches and a faint smell of smoke. They go on the bed, piled until there’s nothing but the drawer of ties left.

  The ties go into a box I find in the old office, along with my father’s expensive socks. I leave his box of watches on the bathroom sink (Neal might want them) but throw away his razor kit and shower gel and packets of Tylenol and Excedrin.

  In the bathroom drawer I find two bottles of pills prescribed by Dr. Louis G. Romero. One’s empty but the other has three Mercury pills left. I leave them for the police to find.

  It takes me a few hours but I clean house, a weight lifting from my shoulders with every move. In the end, I call Martin and ask him to arrange for someone to pick up my father’s clothes.

  Sitting on the edge of my father’s bed, I try not to let the disappointment in my throat drip into my stomach. I expected to find something that would validate what Gina’s been trying to tell me, that my father loved me all along.

  You always see it in movies, characters come home to their estranged dead relative’s and find photos of themselves stuffed beneath the bed, or handwritten letters that were never sent, or videos of them smiling as their younger versions hopped around the yard.

  My father has none of that of me.

  Eleven

  I’m prone to it now, my eyes slipping close without permission, drifting away without warning.

  I wake up to Alanis standing over my father’s bed.

  “What the fuck?” I say, scrambling away from her. “How did you get in here?”

  She jingles my pair of keys.

  I stand up, fixing my blouse and pushing my hair behind my ears. The image of her standing on the roof, rifle in hand, lights up in the forefront of my mind.

  “You need to leave,” I say.

  “I need to show you something.”

  This is the first time I’ve seen her without a dress. She’s wearing slim jeans and a loose navy green blouse. Those same black boots are heavy on her feet, the ones she was wearing when she assassinated Lee.

  “What are you up to?” I say. “What’s your deal?”

  Alanis rolls her eyes. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “You left me to get arrested.”

  “I told you to follow me.”

  “Right. It wasn’t like I was handcuffed or anything.”

  Alanis throws up her hands. “You knew what we were getting into.”

  “No. I didn’t.”

  “Do you want an apology?” Alanis says.

  “No.”

  “Good because I wasn’t going to give you one.”

  A small moment of silence passes between us.

  “I want to know why you killed Lee.”

  She shakes her head. “Come on,” she says, heading towards the hall. “You need to see this.”

  I follow her to the second floor where we take the stairs to the garage. We move pass the assigned parking spots filled with luxury cars, to the far end where guests are allowed to park. Alanis’s SUV is a hulking vehicle in a line of sleek grey and red.

  “You’re not going to shoot me and stuff me in your trunk, are you?” I say.

  Alanis laughs. “If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve done it away from the cameras.” She motions above our heads where a camera sits along the low ceiling. “You’re going to have to lean in.”

  She pops open the large trunk. There are several comforters thrown inside, patterned in fading flowers and cherubs, things picked up in a thrift shop.

  I lean forward and have a glimpse of Alanis grabbing the back of my neck, slamming my forehead against the trunk until my body goes limp. I remember her asking if I trusted her and I did. Operative word: did.

  Alanis peels back the first comforter and the second one begins to squirm. I freeze.

  “Don’t worry,” she says, pulling it back. “He won’t bite.”

  She rolls the second comforter towards us, revealing Carl in the trunk. His hands are cuffed behind his back, bright orange wire roped around his ankles. Two layers of thick scarves are wrapped around his mouth, muffling his screams.

  I glance up at the camera and Alanis kicks my shin. “They can’t see anything. He’s too far in.”

  Carl is dripping with sweat, his cheeks as red as the rings around his eyes. His nose is still broken and enflamed, the bruising wet around his face. He squirms, forwards and back, desperate to get out but he can only move so far.

  “I didn’t kill Lee,” Alanis says. “But after hearing how angry Chris was with him, I knew he wouldn’t let Lee get away with screwing him over. Sadly, Chris isn’t stupid enough to get his hands dirty but only an even bigger idiot would follow orders from someone as incompetent as Chris. That’s where Carl comes in.”

  I almost feel
bad for him, tied up and squealing, but I think about him cornering me in the women’s bathroom, the way he lied to Neal to make it seem like I wanted it.

  “Lee never took Carl seriously and for good reason. He’s a fuck up. But Carl was supposed to get a portion of Neal’s business after they killed him. Lee fucked him over too.”

  I look down at him, wide eyes staring fearfully at the two of us. “You killed your own brother for a little bit of power?”

  Carl blinks.

  Alanis rummages through the dual comforters. “I found these in Neal’s place,” she says, tossing me the bottle of mercury pills.

  “You went back?”

  She nods. “I thought I should retrace your steps in case you missed something.”

  “I didn’t miss these.”

  Alanis raises an eyebrow. “You just forgot to mention them?”

  “I needed one of us to believe in Neal.”

  Alanis smiles. “That’s where you fucked up. I always have doubts.”

  She tosses both comforters over Carl, his body squirming, trying to kick them off. She encases him in a fabric cocoon before closing the trunk.

  “What are you going to do with him?” I ask.

  “I’m taking him to the station where he’ll give a statement about who really killed your father.”

  “What makes you think he’s going to tell the truth?”

  “Because if he doesn’t, I’ve promised to cut his dick off.”

  ______

  Alanis offers to drive me back to Martin’s but I take a cab.

  On my way out the city I count the minutes it’ll take Alanis to arrive at the police station, pull Carl out the trunk, undress him of his bonds and lead him forcefully into the precinct.

  Neal won’t be innocent overnight – the officers will have to fact check and make sure Carl isn’t being wrongfully coerced – but it’s a start.

  Martin, Neal and Gilda are sitting down to dinner when I arrive. I take my seat next Neal and wait ten seconds before telling them Alanis’s plan. Neal visibly deflates, his fingers loosening around his steak knife, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

  “It isn’t a perfect plan,” Martin says from the head of the table. “But it’s better than the one I had.”

  There’s an air of weightless that accompanies our dinner, one I haven’t felt in days. We laugh a little louder and eat a little more. Gilda asks if anyone wants another glass of wine and we all accept, drinking until the room becomes fuzzy around the edges.

  When dinner’s over Gilda shoos Neal and me from the kitchen. “Martin and I can handle the dishes,” she says.

  Half of me wonders if our presence has been a bother, but there’s a level of warmth I feel whenever I’m around Gilda and Martin, as if the two of us in their house reminds them of having a kid again.

  Light-headed, Neal takes my hand and leads me towards the back of the house, where the pool sits in the backyard. It’s simple and square, with two ladders at the head and foot, the depth of the pool marked in black paint.

  “I haven’t been outside all day,” Neal admits, dropping his hand from mine.

  It’s dark now. The automatic lights on the side of the house illuminate Neal as he pulls off his blazer and throws it on the lawn chair. He untucks his shirt beneath a beautiful, clear sky. The wind’s less harsh in the suburbs, the atmosphere warmer. Neal toes off his shoes and socks, unbuttons his shirt.

  “What are you doing?” I say, grinning.

  I already know the answer before he pulls off his button-down and works his undershirt over his head.

  “I’m celebrating,” he says. “By night swimming.”

  His pants come next. I can’t stop myself from staring at his thighs, thick and exposed. The window to Martin’s office is right there, he could flick on the light any moment and see Neal undressing, but I don’t want him to stop.

  My bottom lip is pulled between my teeth as he hooks his fingers around the waistband of his briefs, tugging them down, a sliver of hair exposed before, “You’re not going to make me do this alone, are you?”

  The wine makes me bold. My jeans bunch around my ankles as I kick off my shoes. Next comes my shirt, up and over my head. A slow grin spreads across Neal’s mouth as he takes in my body, starting from the top of my loose hair, down to my toes curling against the ground.

  “Underwear too,” he says.

  I smirk. “You first.”

  Neal removes his briefs without an inch of shame.

  His half-hard cock hangs between his legs and I have a sudden urge to drop to my knees and slide it in my mouth. I pull the inside of my cheek between my teeth and unhook my bra, discard my underwear.

  For a moment we stand a good foot apart, taking in one another as if we’re strangers fucking for the first time.

  I want Neal closer but he turns away from me and dives straight into the pool. Arms out, legs pressed together. Perfect form.

  I move towards the edge of the pool and watch him glide beneath the water, swimming quickly towards the other end. He pops up and pushes back his wet hair, his skin glittering beneath the light.

  “The water’s heated,” he says. “Get in.”

  I’m less graceful with my descent. I plug my nose and jump in, bobbing up to the top. I’ve never been much of a swimmer – we don’t have too many pools in Baltimore – but it doesn’t matter. Seconds after I’m in the water, Neal makes his way over to me, the muscles in his arms and back rippling as he swims to my side.

  I turn to face him, one hand gripping the edge of the pool, as he gives me a watery smile.

  “You know what I thought about when I got out of bed this morning?” he says, our eyes meeting.

  “You mean this afternoon?”

  Neal laughs. “I kept thinking about you. I thought, if I go to jail, I’m never going to see you again.”

  I cradle his face in my hands, his stubble scratching across my palm and thumb. “Shouldn’t you have been worried about your job?”

  Neal’s smile grows. “There are more important things in life.”

  Our lips meet and Neal slinks his body closer, my breasts pressed against his chest, his nipples hard against my skin. He shifts his hips and pulls my bottom lip between his teeth, biting down softly as his cock slides between my thighs.

  My mouth drops open, warm moans brewing in the pit of my stomach as my legs part and his cock nestles between my legs.

  He grows beneath me, Neal’s cock hardening as my clit brushes against him. I tighten my fingers in his hair, lightly rock my hips, craving more friction, desperate for streams of pleasure swimming beneath my skin.

  The water allows me to hover off the pool’s floor, my back against the wall as Neal moves his lips from mine. He drops a kiss to the corner of my mouth before trailing kisses to my neck. My fingers slide to his shoulders, moans brewing in my throat as I continue to rock my hips.

  Neal licks at the strip of skin just below my ear. I tilt my head back, allowing him easier access. The curve of his tongue transforms to the edge of his teeth, my skin pulled between them as he nips at my neck.

  A gasp flies from my throat. The gesture is small but this is the first time Neal’s tried to visibly mark me; to leave behind a purple and black love bite that says she’s taken.

  My fingers curl around his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.

  “Yes,” I moan.

  Neal bites down harder and I release another gasp, my hips moving faster on his cock.

  A guttural groan builds in the pit of his stomach. The sound heads straight to my pulsating clit. I love the feeling of Neal against me but I need to get off.

  The skin below my ear tightens beneath Neal’s teeth. Behind closed eyelids I imagine my neck in the mirror, a dark bruise decorating my pale skin, a bundle of excitement mixes with my pleasure.

  Neal releases my skin and his mouth drops to my breasts. He sucks a nipple between his teeth. I bite back a yelp, the nerves in my breast set alight, sending
fireworks between my legs.

  “Neal,” I say, his name like a breath. “Stop, please…oh.” He tugs my nipple outward, licking at the tip. My fingers tighten in his hair. “You have to…Please…Stop.”

  Neal slides up my body and places another wet kiss to my mouth.

  “What’s wrong?” he says, his words brushing against my lips.

  “Nothing’s wrong.” I kiss him again. “I just don’t want to come without you inside me.”

  Neal’s grin is blinding but I endure it, to burn that image of him in my mind forever.

  With one hand bracing the side of the pool, he wraps the other around his cock and guides it upwards between my legs. My thighs widen. A heavy breath traps in my chest as the tip of his cock finds my hole.

  My arms wrap around his neck. He pushes in, his mouth inches away from my ear, his long groan filling me up. It spins in my stomach as his cock stretches me open. My legs spread wider to take him deeper.

  He thrusts inside. A sharp, “Oh,” passes through my lips.

  My nails dig into his back as he buries his nose into my hair, adjusting to the feeling of my cunt wrapped around him. He gathers his breath and moves, pulling out before pushing in. Hard.

  With my back against the wall I let Neal take the lead, the water sloshing around us as he fucks me with an intensity I haven’t seen since the night at the club. I sink my teeth into his shoulders as his balls slap against my ass.

  “Don’t stop,” I whisper in his ear.

  It’s animalistic, the way he growls and fucks me, white-knuckling the edge of the pool, his other hand claiming stake on my hip.

  I want the feeling of him inside me to last forever, but my orgasm comes with an embarrassing quickness. I shudder against him, my face buried in his neck.

  Neal doesn’t stop moving. His hips slam into me until his movements quicken and he comes inside me.

  We catch our breaths, bobbing in the water, holding onto one another as the silence of the night falls around us.

  Neal’s the first to move, his forehead pressed against mine as he catches my lips. We kiss, softer now, like we have all the time in the world.

  He pulls away and tucks my hair behind my ear. “I’m going to tell you something and I don’t want you to freak out.”