Fight You

by Abby Mccarthy

  All the men are still in the meeting, so the clubhouse is astoundingly very quiet. I stick my head under the faucet in the kitchen to swallow down a few Motrin and a Valium to help with my nerves and exit out the backdoor towards the garage.

  Dawn is approaching and the air is brisk. My breath blows out in puffs as I get into the Charger. I pull it out of the garage bay praying that it’s far enough away from the men’s meeting that Daws won’t hear me.

  I think I’m in the clear and that no one has spotted me leaving until I see Skaggs manning the gate. Of course, even at this hour, someone would be out front. I slow, hoping he will just open the gate for me, but no such luck. He stands in front of the car and puts his hand up signaling me to stop. I roll the window halfway down.

  “Hi, Skaggs.”

  “Hey. Aubrey. Where ya headed at this hour?”

  I hate lying to Skaggs, but I don’t think Daws would easily agree to my plan and I need to do something. I put on my best shy girl face, “Do I really have to tell you?”

  “Sorry, but yeah. Need to know and it better be a good reason for leaving right now. Everyone is on super high alert.”

  “Gosh,” I giggle, trying to lighten the mood, “I got my period and there wasn't exactly anything here. I have to run to the 24 hour drugstore.”

  “Oh...umm okay. Sorry. But hurry back, okay?” He looks like talking about my period is the last thing he wants to do. He moves the fence out of the way and I wave and roll up the window. A shiver runs down my spine, either from the cold air or from my lie, I’m not quite sure.

  It’s about a twenty minute drive to the motel. A part of me wants to question myself on whether or not I’m making the right decision. I’m afraid that if I put too much thought into my rationale that I’ll psyche myself out.

  Half of the bulbs are burned out on the sign reading vacancy, a reminder of the classiness of this establishment. It’s a single story building with a long row of doors facing the parking lot. I pull into a dark area of the lot and sandwich the Charger between a U-haul truck and the dumpster, grateful Daws is such a good teacher.

  I sit for a few minutes and watch all of the units, making sure nothing looks off. My gut says that I’m doing the right thing. Still, I want to be safe. I double check the safety on the Glock and tuck it in the waistband of my pants. I make sure that it’s easily accessible to me, just in case, and fix my jacket making sure it’s not seen. I check the rear-view mirror and am relieved when I see that my face isn’t really swollen from the fall yesterday. It’s hard to believe that was just a day ago.

  The motel has a main office where you can check in, it’s a tiny office space, just big enough for a counter and a table with a few old magazines. It’s dingy and smells musty. A slender old man with greasy hair barely covering his balding head speaks up, “Can I help you?” his voice is scratchy and he coughs a little after he speaks. I notice the overflowing ashtray sitting on the counter next to him.

  “Hi, I hope you can. I’m looking for a man.”

  “Speak up! I can’t hear so good,” he almost shouts at me.

  “I’m looking for a man,” I say in a much louder voice.

  “Look we might look like a dump, but we don’t do rooms by the hour,” he says in an irritated tone.

  Oh my goodness. Does he think I’m a hooker?

  “What? No! I’m looking for a man who’s a reporter and staying here.”

  “I can ring his room. Who should I say is here?” he asks me, still looking at me a little skeptically.

  “Look, I’m an informant, and I really don’t want anyone to know I’m here. That’s why I’m here so early. Could you please give me his room number?”

  Something in the way the man looks at me changes. He has more of a softness to him. “I don’t normally do this,” he pauses and begins coughing. Once he catches his breath he continues, “He’s in room 108. It’s the second to the last room. I better not get into any trouble.”

  “No sir, no trouble at all. Thank you for your kindness, and I hope you feel better,” I say backing out of the motel door so that he doesn’t see exactly who I belong to, now that it’s clearly on display.

  My nerves are on edge as I walk to the door. I’m glad that I took the Valium because despite this being something I think I need to do, I’m still very anxious. I open and close my fist tight before knocking. “Who is it?” The voice is gruff and loud on the other side of the door. Am I making a mistake? I begin to second guess myself and start to walk away when the door opens.

  A man reminding me of the late Philip Seymour Hoffman opens the door. He is tucking in his shirt like he just woke up. “Hello, sorry about that,” his voice is calm and quiet. There is a gentle ease to it that takes the tension away.

  I turn and walk back to the room. I stick out my hand, “Hi, I’m...”

  “Aubriella Adams,” he says finishing my sentence, his eyes light up with a look of surprise. Hearing my real last name after so long feels strange.

  “Yes, I’m Aubriella Adams. Can we talk?”

  “Of course. I’m sorry you have to excuse me. I’ve been looking for you for a while, but I was starting to think I was chasing a ghost. And here you are.”

  “Here I am. I’m sorry Mr...?”

  “Oh, where are my manners? My wife would skin me. My name is Darryl Adkins, I’m with the New Yorker Daily.”

  “Well, Mr. Adkins. It’s very cold outside. Do you mind if we talk?”

  “Please come in,” he says opening his motel door wide and gesturing for me to follow. This is a risk, me walking into a motel room with a man I just met, but something about him tells my instincts to trust him.

  The room is out-dated but clean and freshly painted. The room is simple, a small table with two chairs to eat at sits right next to the door. There is a bed and a dresser with a television on it and a small nightstand. The comforter looks like something from the nineties. The only thing that let’s you know someone is occupying the room is the picture of Mr. Adkins with a woman that I’m assuming is his wife. He sits down at the table and offers me the seat closest to the door as if sensing that having a way out would make me feel more comfortable.

  “Why have you been looking for me?” I ask wanting to get down to it.

  He gets up and starts a pot of coffee using the small coffee maker that is hidden on the other side of the television.

  “Want a cup?” he asks.

  “No, I’m okay. Thank you.”

  “Suit yourself.” He sits back down in front of me waiting for his pot to brew. “I’ve been following the Senator’s career for sometime, even before he made federal prosecutor, and something about him has always seemed off to me. The way your disappearance was explained and how his other foster child was suddenly back in the system.”

  “Hold up. What do you mean, ‘back in the system’?” I ask.

  “Well, the story as we know it is, that once you aged out, the girl Ari, that was also with him, had a hard time coping with being an only child. She acted out and he thought it best for her to be with a family with other females, especially with his new career path.”

  Wow. Well that explains why no one was searching for me for kidnapping. I’m not going to reveal to him that I know where Ari is. I’m going to hold that card close to me. She may not be my blood, or even my biological child, but I love her like my own, and if people think she is in the system that’s where she’ll stay. This knowledge alone makes my visit here worth it.

  “I didn’t know that. Thank you,” I say, grateful for the information he just gave me.

  He gets up, fills his cup, taking his coffee black, and sits down again.

  “Mr. Adkins, my story is a twisted one, and lives are quite literally on the line. You’re right to think things are off. They are so far away from the public’s perception.”

  “You seem like a nice young woman, Aubriella. Why don’t you tell me your story off the record, and then we can try and come up with a game plan to make sur
e you’re safe.”

  “Forgive me. But why would you do that? Why not try to take this opportunity with me sitting here and print whatever you can and run with it?”

  “See that picture there?” he says pointing to the nightstand.

  “Yes,” I say

  “Well, that’s Jane. We’ve been married for thirty-two years. We had a daughter. She died when she was eight in a tragic car accident. She would be about your age, if she was still alive.”

  “I’m sorry.” I pat his hand.

  “It’s okay, it’s been a long time. My point isn’t to make you feel bad, but I can’t in good conscience go home and look my wife in the face if I exploit a young woman who could very well have been our daughter.”

  I trust him. It’s not something I’ve done often, but just like when Marcella spoke to me so long ago, I feel the same instinct. Lately, trusting has become easier. This man can help me, so I do what I’ve done several times in the last few days, I tell him my story. I don’t hide the gruesome details. It’s freeing telling this man about how Rich hurt me. There is no judgment. I see a tear leak from the corner of Mr. Adkin’s eye when I finish, and I know my story has touched him.

  “What do you want to do? Do you want to pin him to the wall? I wouldn’t blame you if you ran again,” he asks me.

  “I’m in love with a man. I don’t want to drag him into this further and I’m so sick of running. I want Rich to pay. What do you have in mind?”

  Chapter 20

  Aubrey

  “Are you sure he won’t be able to see this thing?” I ask Mr. Adkins.

  “No, these are tiny now. It’s not like the old days with huge wires,” he says as he takes out a tiny device and sticks it under the lapel of my jacket, “It will record everything directly to this web address. That way unless they know the address, it can’t be deleted.”

  “The internet? I can’t have this conversation blasted all over the internet,” I say in a mildly panicked voice.

  “No, you misunderstand. I could record it directly to my computer, but if something happens to my computer, then the evidence is gone. This will be more secure. It’s a private place that I’ll set up.”

  “Can I add someone to it?” I ask.

  “Yes, that wouldn’t be a problem at all. Do you have an email address?” He flips open his laptop and pulls up a web-site. He is fast working on the computer. He sets it up so that I’m in charge of the site and only I will have the ability download it or send it on, but the users can hear it. We add his email and then we add Daws’ email. All the guys at the shop have a custom one. Daws might not know what I am doing, but I am not going to ever let him wonder what happened if things go wrong.

  We finish setting up the program and I navigate it until I’m comfortable with the ins and outs. He turns the mic on and shows me how it will operate.

  “This is another precaution I want us to take,” he says as he puts a watch on my wrist and secures it in place. “If you think you are in immediate danger, all you need to do is press this button on the side of the watch twice and it will ping your whereabouts and let me know that I need to get the police here as soon as possible.”

  “Wow, you sure have a lot of high tech equipment for a reporter,” I jest.

  “It’s a hobby of mine. My wife always gives me a hard time, but I knew it would come in handy one day. How are you feeling? Are you ready for this? Because, we don’t have to do this if you’re not.”

  I squeeze my hands open and shut, close my eyes, imagining Daws, and take a deep breath. I think about the strong woman Daws sees in me. The only way I will ever live up to the woman he thinks I am is if I take back control. I need to face Rich and put him behind us. I want everything Daws is offering me, but I want it without the weight of a monster chasing us. I don't want him or his brothers getting hurt because of me. It’s time I face my monster and I fight back with everything I have. I open my eyes conjuring as much inner strength as I can, “I’m ready,” I say feeling a new resolve to end this once and for all.

  “Are you sure that we can’t call the police?” Mr. Adkins asks one last time.

  “I’m sure. He’s so connected with the police that I think if we don't come to them with hard proof, then he has the power to make me disappear. It’s time to stand up to him and let the world know what kind of man he really is.”

  “Okay. Well, let’s do this then.” Mr. Adkins gives me a half smile trying to give me assurance in our plan and takes out his cell phone. The phone is on speaker as it rings.

  “Senator Richard McCleary’s office, how may I help you?” a woman’s voice answers.

  I take a deep breath. This is it, there’s no turning back now. “This is Aubriella Adams. I need to be connected to the Senator right away.”

  “Ma’am, the Senator is a very busy man, I can’t just connect you.”

  “If you don't know my name, then I’m sure you haven’t been with the Senator long. He is looking for me and I’m know he would be more than upset, if you don’t figure out a way to connect me. Senator McCleary is not a man you want to make angry.”

  Yes. Yes, of course,” the woman says stumbling over her words, “I’ll connect you right away.

  There is a long silence on the line. The anticipation of hearing his voice is not a good one and as seconds tick by, my anxiety rises. I grab my bag and pop another Valium knowing I will need it. My heart rate picks up as seconds turn into minutes.

  “Aubriella,” his steely voice blares through the room.

  “Rich,” I reply, “I hear you’re looking for me.” I want to bait him right here on the phone, but I know that he is smarter than that and won’t ever fall for it.

  “It’s been too long. Daddy really misses you. Where are you?” he asks pretending to be caring.

  “Rich, cut the crap, I know you know where I am, considering you’re not more than twenty minutes away. I want you to stop looking for me and leave me be.”

  “Aubriella, let me see that you’re alright with my own eyes, and I’ll wish you on your merry way. Where are you?” he asks again, his tone is hard and I’m sure that everything he’s saying is a lie.

  “If I tell you, will you come alone? I don't want to be in the public eye.”

  “Of course, I understand your position completely, but I know the company you’ve been keeping and I need to make certain that I’m safe.”

  “No one knows who I am. I just want to be left alone.”

  “Very well then. I will come alone, but Aubriella?”

  “Yes.”

  “No games, young lady.” I feel scolded as he says this last part and a shiver runs down my spine. I can do this, I repeat to myself again even though my hands are visibly shaking.

  “Fine. I’m at the motel in Wakeman, off six.” He doesn’t say goodbye, just disconnects the call.

  Mr. Adkins packs his belongings, so that there is no trace of him. He gives me a hug, wishes me luck, then carries his bag out to his rental car where he will wait.

  The Valium is kicking in and my hands steady. I practice breathing techniques while I wait, doing my best to remain calm and in control.

  A knock at the door shatters my calm. He’s here. I know it’s him by the way my hair stands on end and goosebumps cover my skin. It’s time to take my life into my own hands. It’s time to face him.

  I swing the door open and allow him to enter the room. He is dressed for the Press, wearing a navy pinstripe suit with a light blue dress shirt. His hair is slicked back and his tall frame hovers over me. I wait for him to fully enter before shutting the door. I want to stay as close to it as possible.

  “Aubriella,” his hard voice cuts my soul reminding me of everything he has done.

  “Rich,” I say with as much strength as I can muster.

  He takes off his suit jacket, lays it over the bed and then looks at me. His steely dark eyes lock on me, raking over my body. It’s disgusting the way they wander, like he is trying to stake a claim, but this
body belongs to someone else now. I am no longer the girl he abused. I’m much stronger than the girl he remembers.

  “Tsk, tsk, tsk, Aubriella,” he scolds while rolling up his shirt sleeves and walking around the room to inspect that it’s just us. “I would’ve thought for sure you were lying and had your boys here. But perhaps you missed me, either that or you are dumber than I thought.”

  “And yet, you came anyway?”

  “I couldn’t let an opportunity like this pass. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to get my hands on you. You ran,” he says with pure malice.

  “You’re not going to put your hands on me. You’ll never touch me again. I’m simply here to face you and to tell you to leave me alone.

  He ignores what I’m saying as if my voice is just an inconvenience. “Why don't you take off your coat Aubriella? We’re going to be here awhile,” his voice holds an undercurrent of threat in every word he speaks.

  “I don't plan to stay long. I’m going to say what I need to and leave.”

  He laughs at me and the sound is laced with evil. His chuckle makes me feel like I should flee and perhaps this wasn’t the best idea after all.

  “You always had an active imagination, but look at you now, all grown up, trying to stand your ground. Let’s hear it, Aubriella. What is it that you need to say to me?”

  I stand tall wanting to look him in the eye and face him. “I was twelve years old when you first touched me. Twelve!” My voice is raised and I am surprising myself by the amount of anger radiating off of me. “You are a sick man and had no right to touch me the way you did.”

  Before I can blink he is in front of me and his hand grabs around my throat, “I’ll touch you however I want,” he says as his grip tightens more and more.