by Kelli Walker
Right?
The world around me started to muffle. The man's face and front of me began to tilt at my mind started to run away from me. All I wanted to do was get back to my hotel. All I wanted to do was go back to sleep. I didn't want to hurt anyone and I didn't want to step on anyone's toes. I wanted to rest, relax, and pass the time until it was time for me to give birth. Until it was time for me to be a mother.
Until it was time for me to raise the family I had always been destined to raise.
I stood up from the chair and tried to get away. I turned around and tripped over the metal contraption I have been sitting in. I tried to get my feet underneath me as the world began to tilt. But I felt a strong hand grip my upper arm and pull me back.
“Let go of me,” I said.
“Shut up, bitch!”
My cheek began to sting as I fell back down into the chair. My skin was on fire and my jaw started to throb. How was I going to get out of this? Was Robert going to try and find me? I thought I was getting to know him. I thought I was beginning to understand him. But as I sat in that chair in the pitch black room listening to this strange man growl at Robert, the reality of my situation dawned on me.
I had no idea who Robert was.
I didn't know how much time has passed, but eventually a bag was slipped over my head. The man's hand came down on my upper arm and he yanked me from the chair. I stumbled over my feet as a creaking door opened, and all of a sudden I could hear the traffic of the street. I could hear people yelling at one another down the sidewalk. I could smell the stale stench of urine in the back alley way as I was tossed to the pavement.
I fell to the ground in a stale puddle of oily water and that man’s voice emanated from behind me.
“Run, run, little princess. Time is fleeting.”
I ripped the bag from my face and took off down the alleyway in front of me. I could see the street through the hazy darkness of the fog that had settled between the buildings. I heard the man laughing behind me as I put distance between the two of us.
My legs were shaking in fear as I stumbled out onto the sidewalk.
I started running. I ran down the sidewalk, shoving people out of my way. I stumbled into a brick wall and wrapped my hand around my body to pull my phone from my pocket. I had to call someone. I had to tell someone would have happened. I had to call the police or Lacey or someone who can help me figure out what to do next.
But I felt my stomach rolling before I could press the red emergency button on my phone.
I leaned into the building and spilled stomach bile onto the concrete beneath my feet. What in the world happened? Who was that man? Tears continue to spill down my cheeks as people passed me by. Like a small woman vomiting with tears running down her face against the building was a normal occurrence in the middle of Chicago. I wanted out of this city. I wanted to go home. I wanted to curl up in a bed and dig myself into the warm, soft sheets and sleep all of this away.
I wanted to wake up from this horrible nightmare.
I felt a pair of hands on my shoulders and my body leapt into action. I whirled around and sunk my hands into the chest of the person behind me, shoving as hard as I could. But I shoved them so hard I lost my balance and went tumbling into them. Their arms wrapped around me as I clenched the fabric of their shirt. But I didn’t stop hitting them.
I didn’t stop beating my fist against the force trapping me against the wall.
“Leave me alone. I’m calling the cops,” I said.
“Joanna. Joanna. Stop. Look at me.”
His voice hit my ears and as my eyes fluttered up to him.
“Robert?” I asked.
Anger boiled in my veins. I had no idea how this man had found me, but I didn't want to be anywhere near him. I planted my fist back into his chest and braced my knees, then shoved him as hard as I could. He took a step back and I turned to leave, but his hand slipped into mine and twirled me back into him.
“You have to come with me,” Robert said.
“Are you certifiable?” I asked.
“I know you’re upset and you have every right to be. I know you’re scared and you have every reason. But if you come with me, I’ll explain everything.”
“I’m getting away from you. All of you. Who the hell are you?” I asked.
“I’ll answer any question you have. All of them. Multiple times. But you’re not safe here and you have to come with me.”
“Like I had to go to New York with you?”
“Please, Joanna.”
I looked into his eyes and saw a desperation in them. Gone was the stoic look and the stern brow and the cheeky little grin that boasted of his ability to get what he wanted. All of it was gone, and in its place was a look of worry, fear, and relief.
And every single thing was tainted with desperation.
I looked behind him, taking in the car sitting at the curbside. The interior was a lit up with every light the car had. Like Robert knew I would have been trapped in the dark. I didn’t understand how he could know something like that. I didn’t understand the conversation I had overheard. One moment I was wanting Robert to rescue me, and the next I was wanting him to play in traffic.
I didn't want to go with him. I didn't want to get in that car and go wherever he was going to take me. I wanted to go back to my hotel room and call Lacey so I go celebrate with her like I should have. Surround myself with people like I should have. Keep myself out of harm’s way like I should have been able to.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll go with you.”
“Thank you. That’s all I’m asking,” Robert said.
He helped me into the car before we took off from the curb. I pressed myself as close to the doors I can get, putting space between Robert and I. I have slept with him. Just the other night I have given myself over to him completely. Trusting him with my body and allowing him to lay next to me all through the night.
A stranger. Whose child I was carrying.
What the hell was I thinking?
“Joanna?”
“What?” I asked.
“Are you thirsty? I have some water if you are.”
I slowly panned my gaze over to him as a breathless giggle fell from my lips.
“No, I’m not thirsty,” I said.
“Hungry?” Robert asked
“No!”
“Tired?”
“Yes… but that’s beside the point,” I said.
“Then what is the point?”
“What is the point? Robert… why the hell does someone want to hurt me because of you?”
“We’ll talk when we get back to the apartment,” he said.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to hiss. I wanted to beat my fists against his chest until he answered my question. That was the deal. I got in this car with him and he answered all of my questions. Well that was my first question and he was still putting me off?
I turned my entire body towards him, bracing myself for another fight. But his eyes locked onto mine and the sadness in my soul gripped my heart.
The sorrow dripping from his eyes was enough to get me to back off.
Robert
The ride back to my apartment was silent. Joanna was trying to keep as much fucking space between the two of us as she could. And I didn’t blame her. I didn’t hold it against her. I had a questionable past at best, and she had been thrown into the middle of a debacle that was mine and mine alone to solve. I stared out the window, preparing myself for this conversation as best as I could.
But it was going to be a shitstorm.
I led her back up to the penthouse and promptly got her a drink. She settled into one of the white plush chairs in the living room, her eyes hooked onto the dead fireplace. I flipped a switch on the wall and the fire roared to life. Her legs curled up against her as she stared into the flame. She didn’t look as innocent as she once used to. She didn’t look as vibrant with life or filled with any sort of joy.
And it was because of me.
The one thing she could count on as we traveled this journey together.
“I met him, you know.”
I furrowed my brow as I turned my gaze to meet her body.
“This morning in the lobby.”
“Slate was in the lobby,” I said.
“Yep. Said him and his wife were fans of my voice,” Joanna said. “He wanted to take a picture together.”
“He has a picture of you. With him,” I said.
“He does.”
I clenched my fists at my side and tried to keep my cool. Good thing my security team was on the way to Chicago.
That asshole knew where the fuck I was staying.
“Who is he?” Joanna asked.
“Someone I used to consider a friend,” I said.
She scoffed and shook her head as her eyes turned towards mine.
“A friend.”
“Yes.”
“From what?” Joanna asked.
“My teenage days.”
“Am I going to have to drag this out of you? Or are you going to offer this up?” she asked.
“I don’t know where to start,” I said plainly.
“Then try from the beginning.”
I drew in a deep breath and nodded as I leaned back into the couch.
“When my family died in that house fire, I was put into an orphanage. And it was a terrible one on a good day. If we weren’t failing in school and we were in bed by a certain time, the caretakers of the place didn’t care about us. I met Slate in that orphanage and we bonded over our anger.”
“Bonded,” she said.
“Yes. We… hung out after school together and he introduced me to his friends. I fell in with the wrong crowd because I was lonely and felt abandoned. Part of me felt I should’ve burned with my own family and part of me felt I needed to get some sort of imaginary retribution for my family being taken from me.”
“Was your house set on fire or something?”
“No. We lived in a rough neighborhood to begin with. Faulty electrical wiring caused a spark in the walls and ravaged my home.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“I was never going to be adopted. I knew that. I was aggressive and upset. I would cry myself to sleep at night and fight with my teachers during the day. Slate understood my anger. His parents were killed in a home invasion over some dumbass pearls and a few bucks. He introduced me to his friends as we grew closer and I started running with the wrong crowd. I was looking for a family to replace mine. People to take me in and love me since no one was there any longer to do that for me. To give that to me.”
I watched as Joanna turned her entire body towards me in her chair.
“I didn’t learn until I was around sixteen what I’d really gotten myself into. Slate was dealing drugs with his brother and I was sitting in the car with a gun making sure they were safe while they dealt. This ‘family’ I had was made up of nothing more than a bunch of thugs the neighborhood was scared of.”
“What happened?” Joanna asked. “Why does this guy think you killed his brother?”
“Because technically, I did.”
I watched Joanna bristle. She took a long pull of her water and turned back towards the fire. I raked my hand down my face and heaved a deep sigh as the memories from my past poured into my mind.
I just wanted to fucking forget about all of it.
“I had an altercation with ‘Pa’. He was the guy that sort of… ran all of us, I guess you could say. He literally preyed on children like me who were angry and had no chance of being adopted out of the system. He used us to do his dirty work and sat back on his mounds of cash his ‘children’ would rake in off the street. Drugs. Guns. Robbery. Carjacking. You name it, there was someone he owned that did it.”
“He thought he owned you guys?” Joanna asked.
“Yep. And in some ways, he did. He had this way of building people up before reminding them they wouldn’t be anymore than what they were. He tried to convince me of it. But I had this teacher in high school I owe everything to. She helped me shape up and get my grades in a place where I could’ve gone to college if I wanted to.”
“So where does this fight fit in?” she asked.
“The night I tried to leave. I had been applying to colleges when no one was looking. I wanted to get out and start a new life. A life my family could be proud of if they were still alive to see it. But Slate found out what I was doing and went to Pa with it.”
“Why was this any of their business?”
“In that kind of neighborhood, people like them rule by fear. Pa made examples of people and it kept the rest of the neighborhood in line. You don’t simply leave a place like that. Especially with all I knew about the inner workings of the group. So when Pa caught wind of the fact that I wanted to leave and go off to college, it sparked a fight.”
“Why didn’t they just let you leave?” she asked.
“All of us had nicknames in the group that designated our purpose. ‘Pa’ was named that because he was the head. The patriarch of the group. ‘Slate’ was nicknamed that because he was good at keeping the status quo in the neighborhood.”
“He said something to me about people going to him when they needed a blank slate or something like that?” she asked.
I turned my gaze to her, our eyes connecting as she shifted to turn back to me. Opening and closing herself off, like she wasn’t sure if she could trust me or not. Rely on me or not. Take my word for all this or not.
It killed me to watch her struggle like that.
“I asked him why people called him ‘Slate’ when he introduced himself,” Joanna said.
“That’s one way of putting it. He kept our neighborhood pumped full of false information on what we were actually doing. He didn’t mean ‘blank slate’ as in a clean start. He meant a ‘blank slate’ as in he beat and killed anyone who tried to out us for what we were doing,” I said. “He manipulated the information people knew about us to keep us from being arrested by the police.”
“What was your nickname?” she asked.
“Boulder.”
“Why?”
“Because I was the biggest guy they had. Stick a gun in my hand and people usually fell to their knees,” I said.
I watched tears line Joanna’s eyes as she took another sip of her water. She turned back towards the fire as my phone vibrated at my side. I slid my phone from my pocket and saw a message from Maynard.
In the air. See you in two hours.
“The fight,” Joanna said.
“It happened the night Pa cornered me about college. Slate and his brother were there, along with a few other guys. They were talking about how they had ‘heard rumors’ I was applying for college and ‘were wondering’ when I was going to tell them about such a venture. I told them I was going to go to college and make a new life for myself and things escalated pretty quickly. Pa didn’t like someone with the knowledge I had trying to run off and get educated. He saw it as a threat. Thought I would go to the police eventually and snitch on them or something,” I said.
“So you fought.”
“I did. Punches were thrown and guns were drawn. It was bad, Joanna. I’m not going to sugarcoat it. I ducked behind a car and used the only weapon I had on me at the time and started shooting. They weren’t going to let me go. They would’ve rather let me die in the street than go off to college. To them, I was family. And when I pulled that gun and started shooting, I was shooting at family. I became the ungrateful son who wanted to leave everything behind because I thought I was better.”
“You are better,” she said.
I was shocke
d at how easy those words fell from her lips.
“You are better,” Joanna said. “Look at what you’ve built. What you’ve accomplished. You built your own company and you overcame the death of your entire family. You were better than them. You still are.”
I held her gaze as she finished off her bottle of water.
“Slate blames me for his brother’s death because it was my bullet from my gun that killed him. What Slate won’t tell anyone is that his brother had a semi-automatic weapon and had already pumped four bullets into my left leg.
“What?” she asked.
I bent down and rolled up my pant leg to show her the scars. They had faded over time, but they were still there. For mangled patches of scar tissue that ricocheted up the back of my calf.
Her eyes grew wide as I fell back into the couch.
“I did a lot of things in my youth I’m not proud of. It’s why I have the tattoos I do. They remind me of what I did and what I need to do whenever the darkness tries to pull me back.”
“Like the tattoo across your chest,” she said.
“That one was my first one. I got it when I was twenty. ‘Never Look Back’. It’s a reminder not only for my past, but for my business as well. If you dwell on mistakes you make, you never learn to push forward. You never learn how to grow.”
“What about the one on your bicep?” she asked. “It’s a roman numeral for something.”
“Eighteen,” I said as I rolled up my sleeve. “That’s the age I was when I got out and never looked back. And the date underneath it in roman numerals is the date of the brawl. I changed fundamentally as a man that night. It wasn’t just the start of a new life. It was the start of a new person. It was the night I made the decision that family wasn’t for me. If I could lose the only one that cared for me and shoot at the only other one I ever had, then I determined I wasn’t supposed to be a family man.”
“Then why are you doing this?” Joanna asked. “With me?”
I scooted all the way to the edge of the couch and leaned over the arm of the chair. I reached my hand out and tucked a strand of hair behind Joanna’s ear. Her eyes were wide and round. Full of curiosity and empathy and pain.
