The Dark Scarlett

by Aven Jayce

  “Someone may have committed suicide in our back parking lot.”

  “What? No shit?”

  “No shit, Soph.” I flash my lights, as I’m two blocks away.

  “I see you,” she whispers. “You want some tea?”

  “Whiskey would be better, but yeah, I’ll settle for a cup of tea to calm my nerves.”

  I end the call and pull into our underground parking garage. My father, who was standing by the elevator waiting for me, walks toward my car in a rush. He sets his ass in the passenger seat before I even have a chance to place the car in park. I noticed at the Scarlett that he was in one of his finest suits, overdressed for a humid summer day, and now that we share tight quarters, my nose twinges from his overuse of cologne. It’s like he took a bath in the stuff.

  “Fuck, Dad. Did you meet with him today?”

  “No, Sophia was supposed to give me the check at two and she wasn’t home.”

  “What the hell do you mean she wasn’t home?”

  “And where the fuck were you this afternoon, son?”

  “I had an appointment with someone downtown.”

  “And Sophia wasn’t with you?”

  “It was private. Maybe she didn’t answer the door because she wasn’t feeling well. She’s had a lot of morning sickness.”

  “No, your mother went inside and checked. She wasn’t home and when we called her cell we noticed she had left it on your kitchen counter, and yours went right to voicemail.”

  “Son of a bitch,” I open the car door in a rage and my father follows me to the elevator. “So where did you go? Mom said you were gone for four fucking hours,” I question, locking the car and tapping the elevator button obsessively.

  “I waited around as long as I could for Sophia, then went to the Arch to meet with David.”

  “Without the check? He could’ve killed you.”

  “Not in broad daylight. Besides, he never showed.”

  “So someone already got to him at that point?”

  “You don’t believe it was a suicide either?”

  “Oh come on,” I roll my eyes. “Someone shot the fucker and if the cops figure that out we’ll all be in the spotlight, especially with my interaction with him at Kaitlyn’s house, my broken fingers, and the number of calls that must be on his phone to Sophia. That fucker. This looks bad for our entire family.”

  “David would never leave a trail on his phone. I’m sure he has a burner cell for business anyway. He’s too smart not too.”

  “Fuckin’ A. Fucking, fuck,” I pound my fist against the elevator wall. “Exactly. He’s too smart, Dad. Which means if someone did this to him, set him up and made it look this good, like a suicide, then we’ve got an even bigger monster on our hands. Fuck! I need to know where everyone was this afternoon. Don’t tell me I’m the only one who has an alibi. Where did you go after the Arch?”

  The door opens and my mother and Sophia are waiting for us in the hall. My father steps away without answering my question.

  “No, hold on,” I grab his arm. “Answer me.”

  “I had business, Cove. Not now. Ask me later.”

  My mother walks up to him and unbuttons his suit jacket, then helps him slide it off and drapes the cloth over her arm.

  “I still don’t understand why you felt a need to wear a suit to meet him,” my mother says. “It’s summer. You should’ve worn something to the park that wasn’t so suspicious.”

  “I didn’t have anything to be suspicious about. The suit was only to show my respect to him, and as you saw at the Scarlett, he was dressed the same.”

  “Respect? Really, Dad?”

  “Yes, respect. He’s the reason I’m no longer in prison. The man is... was pure evil, and I’m not going to show up in a pair of ripped jeans and a t-shirt,” he looks at my outfit and back into my eyes, “like you.”

  “The two of you have been on one another for days. Stop this bickering, please,” my mother begs.

  “Sorry,” I whisper. “Mother, where were you this afternoon?”

  “Here. I was in my studio, painting, and then I made lasagna for dinner.”

  “Did anyone see you?”

  “Don’t question your mother like she’s some criminal.”

  I shake my head at my father. Never in my life have I lacked so much trust in him. After the Kaitlyn and Ivy incident, and now his afternoon disappearance, I actually doubt his words. I don’t know if I can love him and still have these feelings of uncertainty. What the fuck? My thoughts are mangled in my head. I do love him. I can’t believe I just had that thought. He’s still my father, whether I agree with how he handled his past or not. My skepticism is high, but no, he didn’t kill David. He’d never kill a man.

  “Come on, you two, break it up,” she says. “Cove, talk to Sophia.”

  “I’d like to speak to her as well,” my father says.

  “Well, I’m right here, and I can hear everything you guys are saying. Once again, I feel like I’m in the room and everyone’s ignoring me.”

  The three of us stare at her and my mother mutters something about hormones as she heads her way.

  “Yes, dear. We know you’re here. Sorry you feel left out.”

  “Soph, where were you this afternoon? There’s no reason why you couldn’t have handed the check over to my father.”

  “I didn’t want anyone else to get hurt,” she says.

  “Not giving David the check would’ve placed every single one of us on his shit list. We all could’ve been hurt by not handing over the money. Jesus, what the hell kind of excuse is that?” my voice cracks as I try to hold in my anger.

  “It’s not an excuse. I thought that if your father didn’t have the check, he wouldn’t go to the park.”

  “And then what?”

  “I didn’t think...”

  “Yeah, exactly. Christ, Sophia. If David weren’t dead we’d have sticks of dynamite shoved up our asses right now.”

  “But he is,” she says under her breath. “He’s dead, your mother told me it was his body behind the Scarlett, so who gives a shit?”

  “Okay, calm down,” my father cuts in. “Sophia, I appreciate your concern, and Cove, we’re not under attack. We have nothing to worry about so don’t cover your fear with fury.”

  “You’re smarter than this, Sophia. This isn’t like you,” I state in my most composed voice. “And that’s all I’m going to say.”

  There’s disappointment in her eyes, but I’m unsure whether it’s because I had the nerve to say such a thing, and I’m an ass, or because the words actually got to her, and she’s the ass. Either way, I wish I could take it back. She dealt with David before; she knows how sleazy and dangerous he can be.

  “Sorry,” I whisper.

  She nods, but not before a tear falls from the corner of her eye. She wipes it away then crosses her arms in defense.

  “Does anyone have any thoughts as to why David was behind our building?” my father asks.

  “No fucking clue. It doesn’t make any sense, and I’m not going to stand around making up scenarios as to what could have happened,” I respond.

  My father exhales and I sense he wants to tell me off. “No, you’d rather just keep it all in your head.”

  “Alright, I’ve heard enough,” my mother shakes her finger at us. “The two of you need some time apart.” She takes my father by the arm and leads him inside their place. “It’s like I have a couple of five year olds.”

  Sophia copies my mother and pulls me inside our home. She closes the door and pulls off her hoodie to reveal a new dark green dress. It’s covered in what first appears to be colored polka dots, but under further inspection is actually a printed pattern of strawberries. The tag still hangs from the arm and swings in the air as she leaves the foyer.

  A text from my mother comes in while I’m sliding out of my shoes. It’s just one word... hormones. I get it. My wife’s going to be a loon for months, but I guess that’s no different than how she was b
efore.

  I walk into the living room and find her lying on the sofa in front of the window that overlooks the Mississippi. Her hands are under her head while the rest of her body is in the fetal position. She’s distant as I take a seat by her side.

  “I’m sorry, Sophia.”

  Her eyes close and she rubs my back. I’m forgiven. Her contact is so powerful and healing in ways she’ll never understand. She’s the only person whose touch I can tolerate. Everyone else has put my head and body into a panic. As a teenager, my heart would flutter with anxiety, as my muscles tensed into tight knots. But Sophia’s able to free my heart and body because her touch is only about love. It’s not about money or performance or pleasing a company; her hand on my body is based purely on comfort.

  I close my eyes and enjoy her caress. She’s being kind and considerate, not asking about my first shrink appointment from this afternoon. I told her I’d let her know what I discussed with the guy when I was ready, and it’s nice to have her respect my need for privacy.

  “Cove, you said the other day before our dinner with your parents that some things were more important than arguing with your father.”

  “We weren’t arguing.”

  “Close enough.”

  “At least we’re speaking to one another.”

  “But why has he been short with you?” she asks, turning on her back to look at me. “You didn’t do anything. Not along the lines of his mistake. It’s stressful, you know?”

  “Sorry, it will level out soon. I’ve been kind of crass to him as well, so we’re both being stubborn and foul to one another.”

  She nods and takes my hand. “Like us.”

  “Yeah. But we’ve been this way since day one. It’s a part of our personality and playfulness, especially as a couple. We’re spiteful, yet loving dumbasses; it’s harmless for the most part. My father and I, on the other hand, have never acted this way together. And we’re both guilty of being immature about the situation.”

  “Which situation?”

  I laugh and give her a deserving kiss. “Funny. You look beautiful, by the way.”

  “Thanks for noticing.”

  Her body’s warm, drenched in the evening sun, and her perfume is also fresh; something I haven’t smelled on her in the past. I sniff her shoulder and nibble at her skin until she smiles.

  “What is that?” I ask.

  “Hmm?”

  “The perfume?”

  Her eyes widen with approval. “It’s Michael Kors Sporty Citrus. You like?”

  “I do, but I don’t want to go off topic here. You haven’t answered my question about where you were this afternoon, but by the dress and perfume, I’ll assume you went shopping.”

  She nods and presses her lips tightly together. “I know, I should’ve called Haverty to take me, but I wanted to be alone. Don’t you ever feel that way? That you need to get out, by yourself? Have some ‘me’ time?”

  “Yeah, but not after my husband just had his fingers broken by some nut job. It was a poor decision, Soph. You could’ve been hurt.”

  “He’s not around anymore.”

  “You didn’t know he was dead at the time.”

  She’s quiet and holds my hand then sighs and sits up. “I’m sorry. I apologize,” she whispers.

  “Just let me know next time. I thought maybe you were nauseous again.”

  “I was. And it comes and goes. I needed to get out and window shop, walk around downtown, and get some fresh air.”

  “I understand, but we’re in agreement that you’ll be a little more honest about it next time, right?”

  She flashes a warm smile in response, and I give her another kiss before we stand and hug.

  “I’m craving baked potatoes for dinner, you want one?”

  “What the hell? That was an odd switch. I’ll never understand how your mind works, Sophia,” I shake my head and grin. “Yep. A potato actually sounds good. Whatever you’re craving is fine.”

  “Nice and bland, just what my belly needs. I thought we could continue this conversation while I cook.”

  “You mean while you use the microwave?” I poke fun at her horrendous cooking skills.

  “I plan on being a good mama, and a good cook, and I have months to practice, now sit,” she demands.

  “Wow, you’re starting to sound like my mother.”

  “Yup, maybe you married her.”

  “Oh God,” I roll my eyes like a girl. “I told you before not to joke about that. I don’t want any thoughts of my mother in my head while we fuck.”

  She grins and washes four potatoes, then takes a skewer from the kitchen drawer and stabs holes through each one.

  “What do you think happened to David?” she asks with her back turned.

  “I don’t know. But it better not have anything to do with my father.”

  She stops preparing the meal and raises her head, staring directly toward the kitchen wall. “You don’t really believe he could’ve done this, do you?” she whispers.

  My hesitation answers her question.

  “Oh, Cove,” she faces me with saddened eyes. “I know you’re angry about Kaitlyn and Ivy, especially considering how much this has hurt your mother, but your father didn’t have any reason to kill David. Besides, the man wouldn’t harm a fly. Have you ever seen him even hit another person?”

  “No,” I shake my head. “I know he did in prison, but only to protect himself.”

  “Then tell me why you feel that way, let’s work through this so you can get that evil thought out of your head.” She takes two bags of green tea from the pantry, positions each in a mug filled with water, and warms one in the microwave. It’s the appliance that’s used more than anything else in our place. She places the warm tea in front of me then heats the second as she waits for my response. Her foot taps in anticipation. I take a sip and point to the jar of honey on our counter. She sighs and passes it along, then taps her foot again.

  “He won’t tell me where he was this afternoon,” I answer while stirring a spoonful of honey into my mug.

  “So, that doesn’t mean anything.”

  “Well it does to me, Soph. It’s a red flag in my book. Why do you think we all lie anyway? I’m referring to you, my father, and myself. Why are we afraid to tell one another what’s happening in our lives?”

  She turns away and wraps the potatoes in waxed paper then puts them in the microwave for fifteen minutes.

  “Sophia?”

  She shrugs and hesitates for a moment. “I think the three of us want to protect everyone else from harm, but none of us are very successful at it,” she pauses. “And I believe we don’t want to disappoint one another, so we keep information hidden away. It’s out of love, not malice.”

  I nod as she sits next to me at the kitchen island with tea in hand.

  “I’m also confused as to what David was doing behind the Scarlett. Any person with an IQ the temperature of this room could tell you it’s connected to someone in this family. No one else from the Scarlett knows who he is.”

  “Are we sure about that?” she asks.

  I watch the potatoes move in a circle inside the microwave. The wax paper flaps like a flag in the wind. I try to think of anyone else besides the four of us who could possibly have contact with David. Our workers are all young twenty-something college students. The only other person is Haverty. Fuck.

  “What’s going through your head?”

  “Haverty,” I say in a dry voice.

  “My father told me when you and I first met that he was an inside man who kept an eye on me my first night at your bar.”

  “My inside man, Sophia. Not your father’s. I made sure of it.”

  “How sure. Maybe he knew my father and David.”

  “No. I trust him.”

  “Do you trust him more than your father?”

  I trace the rim of my mug with my finger and sigh. No one seems trustworthy to me right now. Not even Sophia. Jesus, I’m a fucking dickwad. I can’
t believe I keep having these rotten thoughts about my family.

  “Okay, that answers my question. Silence is always telling with you,” she says.

  “I’m just thinking... Haverty was at the Scarlett when I arrived. He had Prudence and Max with him. He could have been taking them for a walk; he’s only a few blocks from there, but still. It seemed odd.”

  “We’re all just a few blocks from the Scarlett, Cove.”

  “I know,” I reply and take another sip of tea. “I’ll find out where my father was, and I trust my mother, so that’s not an issue.”

  “You trust your father too.”

  “Yes,” I say softly. “I do.”

  “I left a little before two and was back by four from my shopping trip.”

  “That time frame doesn’t put me at ease.”

  “Well, you don’t think I shot the bastard, do you?”

  “Of course not, I’m referring to what the police may think.”

  “Babe, they said it was a suicide, perhaps they know more than we do. It’s their job.”

  “I’m sure they do, or they will,” I mutter. “I sat in a coffee shop from one to two; trying to chill out for my first meeting. My appointment was from two to three. Then I stopped by a realtor’s office and got some information on homes in the neighborhood we like, and I set up a time for someone to give us an estimate on our loft.”

  “Stop fretting. We’re fine.”

  “It helps if I clock it. I was home around four.”

  “I know. I didn’t have enough time to change into any of my new things for you. I wanted it to be a surprise, so I hid it all in the closet when you walked in.”

  “Then I changed into comfortable clothes and we both read until I decided to check on the Scarlett close to six. So none of us were together during that time frame.”

  “You don’t even know when he was shot. Maybe he was lying there all day.”

  Sophia puts plates on the kitchen island, then takes a stick of butter and a container of sour cream out of the fridge. She pours two glasses of water and opens the microwave to check on our meal. I watch her elegantly slice the potatoes and place a small pat of butter inside each one. She folds them back together with the butter trapped between, and sets the timer for another five minutes.