by Aven Jayce
I go over the times again in my head. It’s gonna eat away at me until I hear more from the police, or read about it in the newspaper. I wonder if I can call the police and ask them questions. Yeah, that would be dumb. Talk about looking suspicious.
Did someone hear a gun shot? Was there a silencer on the gun? No, couldn’t have been. Who commits suicide with a silencer? The cops would have noticed that right away. Fuck.
The two closest residential areas are a few blocks down on either side of the bar. Our loft building is South and Haverty’s place is somewhere North. Everything else is commercial and most of the businesses are restaurants open in the evening. God, David. What the fuck were you doing back there?
“Cove, you listening, or are you zoning out again?”
“Sorry. What did you say?”
“I didn’t say anything, your cell’s ringing.”
Damn, I’m really out of it. Totally stressed.
“Yeah,” I answer.
“Hey fucker, let’s get a beer. We need to talk.”
“Haverty,” I mouth to Sophia. She nods and continues setting up the meal.
“Did the police leave?” I ask.
“No, probably not for another hour or two. I’m just hanging back on the side street, watchin’ and waitin’. So that beer? How about eight?”
“No alcohol. But we do need to talk. Just in case the cops haven’t left yet, I’ll meet you there. I have a few things to take care of in my office before tomorrow anyway. Still have those fucking dogs with you?”
“Alyssa picked them up.”
“Did you clean up the dog shit?”
“I thought you’d want me to leave it for the cops to step in.”
“Not funny, Hav.”
“I was only pulling your nut sack, I took care of it.”
“Eight.” I hang up and shake my head at Sophia. “He sounds awfully nonchalant about all of this. I don’t like it.”
“Do you think he did it? I mean; you did hire him to protect us. Maybe Haverty knew David had something planned, or he found David hanging around our business and the two got into an argument.”
“David had to have fired the gun for this to be a suicide. None of that makes any sense.”
“Well, I guess what you said to your father earlier was correct, we can’t sit around and make up stories. It will drive us crazy.”
The microwave dings and Sophia does a silly dance around the kitchen. “Yay! Potatoes!” she calls out while looking like some hippie chick flinging her hair around with her arms floating through the air. “Potatoes!”
My wife is a pain in the ass, and sometimes I think she’s somewhat bipolar, but she’s also fucking spectacular.
CHAPTER TEN
The Dark Scarlett was a dream my mother and I had a few years back, a door to a new life, and an exodus from the porn industry. We had hoped to make enough money from the bar, “clean” money I should add, for my mother to be able to quit as head photographer for Jameson Industries. Paul Jameson’s death took care of all of that, and we were both able to break away and start anew. Except for my drinking, we had an innocent, and more importantly, a lawful life. But now, the past has come back to haunt us, affecting not only our personal life, but our business as well. I’m sure the morning papers will have David’s death as a front page headline, and the Scarlett mentioned along with it.
I’m starting to think Sophia should deposit the check from her father’s estate and we can start over in another city. Of course, then everything my mother ever taught me would be a waste, like don’t be a quitter, or never run away from your problems. In the end, what my wife does with the money is her decision, and I know she doesn’t want to touch it. We discussed donating the whole thing to charity. That’s probably best.
I pull around the corner to meet Haverty at the Scarlett. Our back parking lot is now completely cordoned off at the street and I have to park just past our building. Fuck, I hope this gets cleaned up soon.
The body’s been removed, and there’re only two people left on the scene. I stand by the tape and scan the area... I’m not sure what I’m looking for, just something, anything that will give me a clue that a second person was back here with him, but I see nothing. It could be weeks before the cops get the autopsy results, which means I’m not going to sleep until they do.
“Cove,” Haverty hollers from across the street. He jogs over and slaps me on the back, almost knocking me off my feet. “Hey assbag, I picked up some burgers, you want one?” he asks while swinging a bag in front of my face.
“Fuck yeah. Soph made baked potatoes for dinner, something heavier would be great.”
“Potatoes? That’s it? That’s not a meal.”
“I know, but she’s pregnant.”
“No shit? You guys are having a kid?”
I can’t contain my smile as I nod in response.
“Oh fuck, man. That’s badass. Can I be one of the godparents?”
“I think you’re supposed to wait to be asked, shithead. And we’re not religious, so no.”
“I’m Catholic. Trust me, you gotta baptize the thing and have godparents.”
I shake my head and look back at the lot. “Funny, just last week I thought we shouldn’t have a kid. We’re too fucking immature. Our kid will end up raising us, you know? And just listen to me; I say the word fuck all the time. I don’t know what I’m gonna do about some of my bad habits. Try and change, I guess.”
“You think there aren’t other fuckups in this world raising kids? This country is full of them. You scared?”
“Wouldn’t you be?”
“But you’re happy too, right?”
“You have no idea. I’m counting the seconds to see my son or daughter’s face for the first time. Damn, it’s an incredible feeling.”
“Then congratulations,” he says, with a second pat on the back before pointing toward the remaining guys on the scene. “They’ve been here for hours by the way, but it looks like they’re getting ready to leave. They’ll probably be outta here in a few minutes.”
“Yeah, let’s head inside so we can talk and leave them to pack up. The faster they’re gone, the better.”
We walk to the front and Haverty unlocks the door then uses his code to turn off the alarm. The Scarlett is quiet and smells of stale alcohol and leather furniture. I’m uncertain if that’s a pleasant smell, or not.
“Here,” he tosses me a burger and heads for the bar for a drink. As my top guy and best friend, I allow him to take what he wants when he’s here, and he’s always been respectful of the business, not overdoing it like Soph and me. I’ve only seen him drunk a few times, and never while he was working.
“Have you had any today?” he asks.
“No, and I won’t.”
He laughs, but then decides to show me a little support. “I guess that’s good to hear. I had to laugh because I won’t believe it until I see it. In a couple of days, if you still haven’t had a drink, I’ll hand all the money over that your wife has given me to keep you on track.”
“Haverty, stop talking about alcohol for a moment. Tell me why you where here earlier. Did the cops call you?”
“Nope, heard it on my scanner.”
“Why the fuck didn’t you call me?”
“I called your father. I was trying to keep you away so you didn’t have to deal with the cops. You’ve had a rough week buddy. I was gonna tell you, but not until they were gone. I didn’t want you on the scene considering all the shit that went down last week.”
“It’s my fucking business,” I say, taking a bite of meat. I close my eyes as my senses explode at the taste of grease and fat in my mouth.
“You look like you’re shooting your load. You alright?”
“Oh yeah. Perfect. I just realized that I’ll probably have to sneak out over the next couple of months if I want to eat food like this.”
Haverty opens a beer and takes a swig before diving into his burger. As he does, a small amount of grease drips down his chi
n and he wipes it with the back of his hand. He’s in his usual gym clothes; shorts and a workout shirt, which seems to be the only thing he wears outside of work. Still, it throws me off that he’s acting so casual about the shooting.
“So you’re not drinking because of the baby?”
“Hav, I’d love to talk about the good in my life, but we need to talk about the crap outside. Did my father say where he was when you called?”
“Nah, just that he’d be over in a half hour.”
“I’m pissed that he hasn’t told me where he was this afternoon.”
“You don’t have to worry about anything. Chill your balls. I talked to one of my friends on the force; he was back there today. He said it was probably a suicide.”
I roll my eyes at the shit that keeps flying out of people’s mouths. What the fuck is wrong with this family?
“What? Why the hell is that so hard to believe?”
“A fucking sleazebag lawyer with an enormous ego, who’s the head of underground porn companies and God knows what else, is about to get twelve mil and he kills himself? Fuck that.”
“Cove,” he sets his beer on the bar and leans in closer to me. “The shot was at contact with the side of his head, at a upward angle, and it left a burn mark. It was one shot, with no cuts or scratches, meaning no sign of any struggle with another person. David committed suicide. Leave it at that.”
His eyes turn cold and dark as he speaks. I sit and stare into them and listen to his breathing. It’s plausible for those who never met the man to believe such a thing.
“I’m sure he had a lot of enemies,” I whisper.
“Fuckin’ A, give it a rest would you?” he growls.
I push my burger away and swivel on the bar stool with my hands behind my head.
“Oh come on, pussy. I didn’t mean anything by it; I forgot how sensitive you are about everything. Don’t pout,” he says.
I sigh; irritated and in need of a hard drink. The bar wasn’t the best place to meet him. The smell of alcohol is turning me into a madman, on top of everything else in my life. “You know James.” I use his real name so he knows just how offended I am that he’s sweeping David’s death under the table. “Tell me the reason he killed himself in our parking lot, and I might believe you. I thought people who kill themselves do it in private, not out in some awkward, unfamiliar spot.”
The room is silent as I stare at his greasy chin and wait. No words, no movement, no clue, just as I thought.
“I don’t know,” he finally says. “But you can’t let it eat away at you. And you’re wrong. People kill themselves in public all the time. Remember the guy years ago who shot himself on TV, or the people who jump off buildings? It doesn’t have to happen in the privacy of one’s home. Did the cops ever find out his connection to Paul Jameson?”
“No.”
“Then your family has nothing to worry about. As far as they know, he’s just your mother’s uncle, correct?”
I nod in response. Maybe Haverty’s right. I’m overly sensitive and need to ‘chill my balls,’ as he so elegantly put it. I take a deep breath and look at the ceiling, peering into the lens of one of the handful of security cameras we own. I swear it looks as if it could blink at any moment, like a giant eyeball.
“You know,” I whisper. “I have some work I need to get to in my office.”
“I thought you wanted to talk.”
“I have some business to take care of before tomorrow, and I did want to talk, but now I don’t. You told me not to worry about it, right?”
He finishes his beer and tosses the burger wrapper in the trash. “Alright, man. You’re the boss. You okay here alone now that David’s no longer around, or do you want me to stay?”
“I don’t need a babysitter tonight, go hang out with Alyssa. Take a break from my family’s shit.”
“You need to do the same,” he laughs and sends a fist pump my way as he heads out. “And Cove, leave well enough alone. The fuckwad is dead, and you should sleep well knowing it was a suicide.”
I nod and lock the door behind him. I’m still in a t-shirt and jeans, and the door is cold as I lean back and rest my arms and upper body against it.
It’s a rare occasion that I’m here alone, and even rarer that I have the time to look over the room. I stare at the security camera above the bar, and then try and remember where we placed the other four. One’s in the back, I see another in the hallway leading to the private rooms, one at the front door, and there... another up in the balcony pointed toward my office.
I head up the stairs to a dim room. The only light comes from the bar area below and I find it meditative in a way. Dark and quiet.
Shit, Haverty really did install a heavy bag in the corner. It’s probably more for him than for me. I’ll bet he’ll be up here punching away at it every chance he can get. It spins and sways as I push it with my palms. Man, he went all out, the thing’s high-end, and he left a pair of bag gloves on my desk.
A pile of account orders glows under the light of my computer screen as I bring my desktop out of sleep mode. It’s been almost two weeks since I’ve sat in this office and did any real work. Fucking loser. I forgot to make the call for a new shipment of wine, plus I need to make sure Sophia finished payroll. It’s time to get my shit together and step up my game if I want to keep this place running. I can’t let my parents do all the work.
I stare at my computer and smile at the desktop photo Sophia made for me. It’s an image she took of her cat, Lewis, sleeping next to me on my mother’s sofa. Fuck, that seems so long ago. One of the first weeks we met. And now, we’re having a child together. I already know I’m going to be an overprotective father. Poor kid. I’m gonna drive him or her nuts being one of those helicopter parents. Swooping in to make sure nothing bad ever happens... like my father should’ve done for me. My father...
“Goddammit,” I whisper and close my eyes. My shrink said he wants to discuss the time Paul and I met at my next session. How it began... what he did.
“Fuck!” I swipe my hand across my desk, tossing the paperwork to the floor then pull my flask from a drawer and unscrew the top. My hands have been shaking every evening for the past three days, withdrawal symptoms for sure. I take a deep whiff of the alcohol and hold the flask in my hand, trying to rub off the reflection of my face in the metal.
“Don’t drink, you fuck. Think about something else.”
I go online and quickly find some music to play. A good distraction. Yeah, I’ve been on an Imagine Dragons kick, but Soph isn’t so sure she likes them. This is the perfect time to blast one of their songs since she’s not around. Thank fuck I have a good set of speakers hooked up to my desktop. Alright then... Demons. Probably not the best choice in songs for my mood, but fuck it, it’s what I wanna hear.
I set the song to repeat and for the first time in my life I put the flask down. Fuck, that’s hard. Makes me feel like a pussy... shouldn’t it feel good... rewarding? I should be proud of myself, but I’m not.
The music echoes through the empty lounge area. I take off my shirt and slide my hands into the gloves while the heavy bag still rocks back and forth. It swings to the left, right, and then does a half-spin. I stare at it and wait for the right moment. My hands are up, feet apart, lyrics belting into my head.
My clenched fist rushes into the bag and makes a loud smack against the leather. I pretend to hit it with my other hand, but stop short because of my finger splints. I can’t even bend them into a fist at the moment, but one hand’s enough. It’s all I need to release some anger.
“Fucker,” I whisper, hitting the bag again. Over and over I drive my fist into the thing, each blow more powerful than the last. Beads of sweat form on my chest while my foot moves forward with each punch.
I stop the bag from its swing and start again, belting away at it like it’s Paul’s face. Drinking has always been my way of releasing my anger about him, and I’m starting to lose control in a way I never knew was possible. M
y hatred pours out as I attack the form in front of me; expecting to eventually win and knock it to the floor. But I can’t defeat it. My strikes push it slightly away, and then it swings back.
“Go down, you fuck!” I yell, only to be taunted by the bag’s return. If it were human, I’d be beating someone to a bloody pulp. My fist thrashes into it until I’m out of breath and tired of a game I’ll never win. I place my head on the leather and find a deep cry that’s been locked away working it’s way out.
“I hate you,” I whisper as tears roll down my cheeks. “I fucking hate you, Paul Jameson.” I throw the gloves on the floor and reach for the flask. The first drink gives me a sense of relief... the second and third start to calm my body, but not my mind. I’m an asinine shit who has no control. I throw the flask against the wall and fall to my knees; more tears, heavy breathing, my fist still clenched. This is the position he loved to see me in. That fuck.
“I said open your mouth, Star.”
Paul grips my throat and pinches my nose until I have no choice but to open my mouth to breathe. His dick is inside and I start to gag. He won’t stop, not even with my muffled screams and tearing eyes.
“Don’t fucking bite down on it or I’ll turn you around and fuck you up the ass.”
He releases my nose and puts his hand on the back of my head so I can’t escape. I watch the hair on his groin move toward my eyes as he thrusts his dick deeper inside.
“I might have to take you home with me, keep you locked away in my bedroom so I can fuck your sweet mouth anytime I want. You tell a soul about this and that’s what will happen.”
“Get the fuck out of my head.” My body jerks with convulsions as I try to stop my tears. “I’m fuckin’ crazy and it’s your fault, Paul. You made me this way.”
“Get ready for it. Make sure you swallow.”
I crawl around my desk, open the small safe in the bottom drawer, and pull out my handgun. I hate it that I own the thing, as well as a second one in the loft. Soph wanted them for protection. Shit, why did I listen to her?
My mind tells me to end it, do away with the daily pain and memories that circle through my head. But my heart stops me... for Sophia and the baby. I lean against the wall, elbows on my knees, with a loaded gun pointed at my head.
