Breaking Mr. Cane

by Shanora Williams

  “It’s okay,” I murmured. After several seconds, he let me go and Mom and I got into the car.

  This wasn’t the way I wanted to be sent off. Before everything went haywire, I pictured Mom and Dad in the car with me, Dad driving on the way to my school while she sat in the passenger seat, both of them with chipper moods while I sat anxiously in the back. I had even pictured Cane standing in this very driveway, seeing me off for the final time, giving me quiet, heated stares and whispering in my ear that I would always be his.

  I wanted everything to be perfect and full of life and happiness and peace. Instead, it was dull and depressing, and though it was sunny, everything around me was cloudy and gray. Saying “see you later” to my Dad felt wrong, and not being able to say anything at all to Cane before I left broke me to pieces.

  Before I knew it, I was riding with Mom. Just the two of us.

  “It will be okay,” she cooed as I silently sobbed in the passenger seat. “It's life, Kandy. These obstacles are thrown at us, but we get through it. We’re family. You’ll learn soon enough. Life isn’t easy or simple or even practical. It can get really messed up sometimes, and the only thing you can do is take it day-by-day.” She rubbed my arm. “Cheer up, baby. Give it a few months. Things will be back to normal before you know it.”

  But would they really? Because without Cane, there wouldn’t be a ‘normal’. He’d become apart of our unit. We were a happy quartet, but in the blink of an eye, were cut down to a collapsing triangle.

  Nana Alexandra was right. My life was unusual. I only prayed my abnormal life would make me resilient one day.

  Chapter Six

  CANE

  The first thing I heard was white noise. Like water or the ocean. Destin.

  The white noise transitioned to beeping. Then the beeping led to soft murmurs.

  My heavy eyelids peeled apart, the lights above nearly blinding me. I groaned and tried moving, but the pain on the back of my head stopped me. “Shit,” I mumbled. My mouth was dry and tacky. My lips felt numb.

  “Oh my gosh,” a voice gasped, and a hand wrapped around my upper arm. “Quinton, babe? Are you okay?”

  I peered up, meeting glistening green eyes. I’d hoped they would be maple brown, like Kandy’s, or even gray, like Lora’s. I looked past her to a tall man with graying hair at the temples. A stethoscope was draped around the back of his neck, a clipboard tucked beneath his arm.

  “What the hell is going on?” I rasped.

  “Mr. Cane, I’m Doctor Welsh. How are you feeling?” he asked.

  “Head hurts,” I grumbled.

  “As it should. You took a pretty hard fall.”

  I frowned then. “Fall?”

  The doctor looked from me to Kelly, who was still holding my arm. “Uh—y-yes,” he stammered, picking up the clipboard to read over it. “You were rushed into the ER last night. The back of your head was split and you suffered a minor concussion.” He focused on me again. “Do you remember falling, Mr. Cane?”

  I drew in a breath, trying to remember. I couldn’t, for the life of me, recall the fall. “I don’t remember,” I responded, and he scribbled something down on his clipboard.

  “Derek hit you, Quinton,” Kelly said, and I put my attention on her. “Your guests said he pointed a gun at you and then he punched you, which made you fall backwards and hit your head on the concrete. They said he was drunk, hostile, and mad at you about something.”

  I dropped my head and squeezed my eyes shut. That’s when it hit me—the memories of last night. It rushed back to me like a wave, nearly drowning me. I sucked in a sharp breath as the worst of them all came to me.

  His words.

  His voice that was laced with so much anger.

  “Fuck you, Cane.”

  Those were the last words I heard. After that, I couldn’t remember anything. “Shit.” I shoved the crisp, white sheet off my legs and started to twist around to get my legs off the bed, but Doctor Welsh rushed toward me, while Kelly held my arm tighter. His hand pressed down on my shoulder to keep me seated.

  “Quinton, what are you trying to do?” Kelly demanded.

  “I need to call Derek.”

  “Sir, I can hand you your phone, but you should rest until further notice. Any sudden moves or actions could hurt you in the long run.” The doctor’s eyes were serious.

  I shook my head, and even that hurt to do. Derek did this to me? Derek? And shit! Where was Kandy? How the fuck did he find out about us? Did she tell him? That wouldn’t have been like her. I needed to know.

  “Give me my phone,” I snapped, and Kelly hopped up, going for my things on top of the counter. She brought it back to me, but even while pressing the buttons, the screen remained black. “You have to be fucking kidding me!”

  “Mr. Cane, I understand your frustrations, but please try to relax. We can have your phone charged and get you anything you need. Are you hungry? Thirsty? Let us accommodate you and get you healed up. You’ll have plenty of time to make calls when you’re well-rested and healthy.” Doctor Welsh took a step back. “I’ll call the nurse, tell her to bring you some water and food after she checks your vitals.

  “Thank you,” Kelly responded, because I sure as fuck wasn’t in the mood to thank anyone. When he was gone, she turned to face me with a pleading expression.

  “I need to call Derek. Do you have a charger with you?” I asked.

  “I do, but Quinton, you should seriously reconsider this. He hurt you! He could have ruined your life—your career! The cops came and told me to ask you if you wanted to press charges on him. I told them that you might want to when you’re conscious.”

  “What!” I barked. “Kelly, why the fuck would you tell them that? It was a mistake—”

  “Was it, Quinton? Seriously, I could see from the trip in Destin that Derek is unstable, and if you want me to, I can use that to vouch for you. He’s unfit to be a cop, let alone your best friend. All he did was take advantage of you—”

  “Okay, you need to shut the hell up right now ‘cause you’re really starting to piss me off.” I snatched my arm out of her hand, rubbing my temples. “I would never press charges against him, best friend or not. He should know that! Now there might be a possibility that he thinks I will!”

  “He left you unconscious for a whole day! He’s not safe to be around!”

  “Do you even know why he hit me? Huh?” I snarled.

  She blinked rapidly, straightening her back. Her face then became solemn, her eyes narrowing. “I do.”

  “You do?” My tone was flat, stale. “So if you know what it was about, then why in the hell are you here right now, Kelly?”

  She pressed her lips and then, after several tense seconds, sat back in her chair, placing her hands on her lap. “Listen, Quinton. I am trying to do you a favor here. If you stay away from Derek, you’ll stay away from Kandy. I know that’s the only reason you want to make things right with him. You want to get close to her again. Maybe it was a mistake on Derek’s part. Maybe he did react out of anger. I mean, finding out that your best friend is fucking your daughter is a tough pill to swallow but…that’s the card he was dealt and he handled it the wrong way. Now he has to deal with the consequences…and so do you.”

  My brows stitched together and I pushed up on my hands to sit up higher. “You think the shit you have on me is going to keep you around, Kelly? Really?”

  She smirked. “I’ve been in this room with you for nearly twenty-four hours, Quinton. I worried about you—worried about your career and our future. Are you seriously going to tarnish yourself and everything you’ve built over an eighteen-year-old girl after everything I know about you?”

  “You don’t know shit,” I growled.

  “I know the letter that I found in your home office from your father wasn’t to be taken lightly. Imagine if the world found out you built Tempt by doing the wrong things. What do you think they’ll say about you? How will you bounce back from that?”

  I flar
ed my nostrils. I wanted to grab her by the throat and choke her. “You’re a fucking bitch.”

  She leaned forward, smiling as she ran a finger over the top of my hand. “I’m a fucking bitch who loves you. Accept that, and there won’t be any problems.”

  “Blackmailing me is the problem, and if you think for a second that I’m going to let you continue to use that shit against me, you better think again. I’ll rat myself out before I ever let you think you own me.” I leaned closer to her, so close I could feel her breathing. “You think you know me, Kelly, but you don’t know a goddamn thing. You don’t know shit about me or what I’ve done to get to where I am now, and as soon as I find a way to get rid of your worthless, desperate ass, I’ll make sure you always remember who the fuck I am and to never cross me again.”

  Her throat bobbed, green eyes swirling with darkness and excitement, like my threat thrilled her. She was fucking insane.

  She was lucky the nurse came in to check my vitals—lucky that I couldn’t cause a scene in that hospital, or better yet, toss her ass out of the room. I’d never wanted to hurt a woman as much as I wanted to hurt Kelly. It wasn’t in me to hurt a female…but she was asking for it. She was trying to ruin my life, all for her own selfish needs.

  She was the reason all of this had happened and she was going to fucking pay for the damage she’d caused.

  Chapter Seven

  KELLY

  Past

  When I first met Quinton, I knew I had to have him.

  I had just left group therapy and headed to the cafeteria for a cup of coffee, when I bumped into him.

  The first thing I noticed were his eyes. For a man who seemed edgy and mysterious, his eyes were clear and bright with yellow flecks shimmering in the corners of his irises. The next thing I noticed were his hands, and how big they were when they wrapped around my upper arms to steady me.

  Then I noticed the way he smelled. Manly and clean and delectable, a trace of nicotine that only increased my desire. Though it was an unhealthy habit, there was something about seeing a man with a cigarette that turned me on completely. A man who defied good morality was truly delicious.

  “Shit, I’m sorry,” he apologized. My heartbeat sped up several notches at the sound of his deep, silky voice, and his apology suddenly meant nothing. I didn’t care that he was sorry for bumping into me, or the fact that my coffee had spilled all over my skirt and Gucci shoes. All I cared about was having him. Making him mine.

  “It’s okay,” I murmured, placing my cup down on the nearest table and picking up a few napkins to wipe myself off. “This blouse wasn’t really a favorite of mine anyway.” There was a familiar chant inside my head as I cleaned myself up—something that begged me to rope him in, get to know more about him. Unfortunately, I wasn’t quick enough to make it happen the first time.

  He helped me wipe off my shoes and cleaned up the floor with the napkins from the table nearby, apologizing again for the mess. A buzzer chimed, luring him away from me. I watched him go after he apologized once more, and made a mental note to return the next day.

  So I did…because I had to.

  I finished talking to my therapist and went to the cafeteria again, hoping I’d bump into the handsome stranger again. I didn’t see him that day. Or the day after, even though I didn’t have therapy.

  But the third day after our run-in, I saw him. He was sitting in the cafeteria, across from a woman with thick brown hair that swam to the middle of her back. Her skin was pale, her cheeks hollow, dark circles beneath her eyes. She fidgeted as he spoke to her, and in his eyes I saw the pleas. The desperation. I was too entranced to enter the cafeteria. Too busy staring at him. He was so damn handsome. It was clear he was wealthy. Anyone who had family in Polly Heights had to have money. He was perfect, honestly, and would have made a great fit for me.

  The woman repeatedly shook her head, telling him no. He was persistent with whatever he was asking of her though, but she was just as stubborn, from what I could see.

  “I told you no, Q! No—goddamn it! I just want to get the hell out of here!” The woman hollered. I could hear her through the door. “I need to get out!”

  My eyes widened, and I covered my lips, watching as the handsome man stood up and walked to her side of the table. I couldn’t help going into the cafeteria then. His back was facing me now. I wanted to know what he was telling her. I was desperate to find out, so I sat at the empty table beside theirs to listen.

  “Mama, you have to get better, don’t you understand that? I’m so sick of this shit,” he snapped.

  “Quinton…please,” she begged. “Please, stop putting me through this. I—I’ve been here for a week and I feel like I’m losing myself—like I’m dying. Don’t you want to make your mother happy?”

  “Yes, I want to make you happy, which is why you’re here. When you’re out and clean, you’ll be happy, I promise, Mama. You’ll get that bakery you wanted. You’ll get to travel with me and do fun things. You’ll be living your life again in a better way. For me and Lora.”

  “I don’t care about any of that right now,” she moaned. “I just want one line. A sniff—anything, please! It’s all I want—I won’t ask for anything ever again.”

  “No, Ma!” His tone was harsh. Though I didn’t know anything about him, I could tell he was frustrated and fed up. “I put you in here because I fucking know you, and I know you want to get better. Stop letting the drugs beat you!”

  “I don’t care!” she wailed. “I don’t care! Just let me out!”

  “You agreed to do this, Ma. You promised me! It’s just withdrawals! They’ll pass soon!”

  She blinked up at him but couldn’t rid herself of the tears. Everyone was watching them, but he didn’t give a damn. He cared about her that much, to the point that no one else’s opinions mattered but hers and his. That was awe-worthy.

  The man’s phone rang and he sighed, pulling it out of his back pocket. He ignored the call, placing his phone on the table, before grabbing her hand.

  I couldn’t hear much of what he had to say next. The volume of his voice had lowered, but I continued watching him, and all I could remember was how warm and safe his hands were when he touched. How good he smelled. I’d dreamt about his smell.

  “Just get me out of here, Q. Please,” his mother begged. “Please!” Her voice pulled me out of my daydreaming haze. I hadn’t been paying attention before, but the security guards that were standing at the door were closer now. The man, Q, shook his head, eyes glistening, as he pinched the bridge of his nose and gave one simple nod to the security guard.

  But his mother fought. She looked like a fighter, just like me. She elbowed and kicked and swung her arms, and her son yelled for her to stop it and cooperate, but she wasn’t having it.

  They had to settle her down somehow, otherwise they were never going to get her out of there. Before I knew it, a nurse rushed toward them and a needled pierced his mother’s arm. The man breathed raggedly, the rims of his eyes red and glistening. “Take it easy on her!” he shouted at the nurse.

  “Stand back, sir,” the guard ordered.

  “No, fuck that. I pay this place to take care of her, so ease up!”

  The guard glared at the man before putting his focus on the nurse who’d given his mother the shot. The nurse nodded, and the guard eased up on his vice grip.

  “Take her back to her room,” the nurse commanded. “Sir, you can visit on another day, when she’s feeling better.”

  The man let out a heavy breath as his mother stared into his eyes. “I’m doing this for you, Mama,” he said, still watching her. “You promised me. Don’t let this ruin you.”

  The man picked up his phone after her limp body was carried through the doors that led to the clients’ rooms. “Be careful with her!” he shouted.

  When the doors closed, he hurried out of the cafeteria and I rushed to a stand, following behind him. I didn’t know what the hell possessed me to do it. Perhaps I knew I couldn’t le
t him go again. I needed more. Craved more. I followed him out of the clinic and watched as he made his way toward a black Chrysler.

  Maybe I was stupid to think he hadn’t seen me. Or maybe I wanted him to know I’d seen him—seen everything. Either way, before he could reach his car, I’d come face-to-face with him.

  “Can I help you?” he snapped, and I stopped walking as he rushed away from his car and toward me. “You saw what happened and got a good show. Good for you! Now why the fuck are you following me?”

  I blinked rapidly. “I…just wanted to see if you were okay.”

  “I’m fine, but I’ll be better if you’d stop fucking watching me.”

  He started to turn, but I shouted after him. He frowned, peering over his shoulder.

  “I’m sorry about your mother,” I added. “I also had to deal with something similar.” As if that statement eased him, he turned to face me again, slowly this time. “You have a family member in there? Is that why you’re always here?”

  In that moment, I could have told the truth, but I didn’t. I refused, because I didn’t want him to see me like how he saw his mother. As someone who needed help. Someone weak and desperate and…lonely. I could confess the truth later, once he got to know me.

  So I replied, “Yes.”

  His shoulders relaxed. “Oh…shit. I apologize. I didn’t realize—”

  “No. Stop. It’s okay.” I shrugged and he dropped a hand in his pocket. “Look, this is going to sound crazy—I mean, I know we don’t know each other at all, but maybe you’d like to talk about it? It’s hard finding people to talk to when it comes to situations like this. Maybe we can grab some coffee—that is, if you have the time. Maybe this time I won’t spill it all over myself.” I laughed and he put on a small smile.

  He then flipped his wrist, checking his watch. With a heavy sigh, he picked his head up and looked toward the clinic. It was a big place, very hard to miss. It reminded me of the white house with how grand and white it was. Too bad the inside didn’t uphold the same elegance.