The Dark Scarlett

by Aven Jayce

  “Oh fuck, I’m close. Ah, you little shit... you have no idea what you’re in for... bet you’ve never even seen a man cum before. It’s nothing like your drips.”

  The magazine is loaded full... the safety’s off... I pull back the slide and press the muzzle over my heart.

  “Here comes the flood. Fuck, I’m gonna fill you. I’m gonna be inside of you forever. There... take it... take it all.”

  The blast jerks my arm and fills my ears with a ringing chaos. Fuckin’ loud ass shit in a large open space. Doesn’t make me feel any better either, and I broke one of our chandeliers with the shot. I set the gun on the floor and bang my head a few times against the wall. I’m too weak to kill myself. Too much of a chicken shit to ever commit suicide.

  I don’t know if I can do this... talk to someone about that part of my life with Paul. I’ve never told a soul. When I was younger I was too afraid, and as I got older, I was too embarrassed and angry to let it out.

  The ringing noise continues to ricochet through my head, until I realize it’s my cell and not the reverberations from the gun. It’s Soph, I haven’t checked in with her yet, and she’s probably her usual worried self.

  “Hey.”

  “Cove?”

  “Yeah Dove, what’s up?” I mumble.

  “I can barely hear you. Where are you guys?”

  “Hold on, gotta turn down my music.” I kneel and quit iTunes then set my head on my desk. That took way too much energy.

  “You were supposed to call me when you got there to let me know what’s going on. Remember?”

  “Sorry. Yeah, the cops are gone. So’s Haverty.” Shit, I hope the cops are gone and didn’t hear that shot.

  “What? Why? Everything okay?”

  “Fine, Soph. I’ve got work to do. I need to place an order... did you finish payroll?”

  “It’s taking care of, and by the way, you sound terrible. What happened?”

  “Nothing. Haverty doesn’t know anything.”

  She’s silent for a few minutes, and I use the time and the last of my strength to take a seat at my desk. Her sighs are a signal that she’s waiting for me to speak, but my depression has drained me to the point where it hurts to move my mouth, so I put off any further conversation.

  “You drinking?” she whispers.

  “No,” I lie.

  “Cove...”

  “I’ll be home by ten, alright?”

  “You mad at me ‘bout something?”

  “No,” I exhale. “I’m sorry, I just need an hour or two alone. You good with that?”

  “Ten? You promise?”

  “Uh-huh”

  “Love you,” she says.

  “Love you too,” I whisper, end the call, and swivel in my chair while staring at my computer screen. She still hasn’t asked about my session with the shrink, and I can tell she wants to know, but my secrecy is insensitive considering how mature she’s been with certain things lately. She’s passing right by me, growing up, starting to act responsibly, while I’m just as much of a mess as ever. Each day I see small changes in her. It’s not a drastic overnight transformation, but enough that I’ve taken notice. I fuckin’ love that woman... just hope I can keep up with her so she doesn’t leave me. I think the pregnancy is what really did it for her, and for myself, I always thought it was going to be her, that she was going to save me from my terrors, but now I know I’ll have to rescue myself.

  I glance over the folders on my desktop and open the surveillance cameras that are in the Scarlett. Five windows appear; one of which is a display of my office. God, I wish we had one for the back lot, then I’d fucking know what happened to David. I’ll have Haverty get on that first thing in the morning. It’s not gonna happen again.

  It’s been months since I’ve viewed this system. No need, since Haverty takes care of a lot of it for me, but when the business first opened I kept an eye on it daily. I have remote access from home, and that’s where I usually watch it.

  “No shit,” I whisper and notice the icon for the one closed window off to the side. “Dumbass... can’t even remember you have sixth camera? Where’s your fucking head?”

  The outside entrance camera. At one time, there were lines of people in front of our building waiting to get in, but with much of the college crowd gone for the summer, and no wait at the door, I closed the window back in the spring to allow for a larger workspace on my desktop. The camera still runs, I just haven’t been viewing it.

  I bring up the day’s footage, wondering if I’ll come across David passing by our door. It’s a long shot, but not impossible. Maybe I’ll even see if he was with someone.

  The clock on the bottom right flips through minutes, and then hours. I fast forward through the morning and find nothing unusual. Haverty passed by at eight with the dogs, and the fat one, Max, pissed on our front brick. Those bulldogs are beasts, just like their owner. I’m gonna make that asshat wash the front before we open tomorrow. Give him a few chores to do.

  Nine, ten, eleven, noon... nothing. This district is dead during the day, all evening businesses. One, two, and then three o’clock... then close to four.

  “Dad,” I whisper.

  My father’s at the front about to open the door, but stops and turns when a hand rests on his shoulder. He’s talking to someone. “Who the fuck is that?” I slow the footage as my heart pounds and anxiety kicks in. Christ, what was he doing here? I wish I could pan out but the camera’s set in a specific position.

  Two figures appear in the scene. Women. I can tell by their attire.

  “Kaitlyn and Ivy.”

  I don’t know why the fuck he couldn’t just tell me he was meeting them this afternoon. Must not have mentioned it to my mother... damn him. They move out of the shot and only the sidewalk remains in view. I exit the footage and set the computer window back to its current setting; noticing the sun has set, and without the Scarlett’s outdoor lights on, I can’t see much of anything. David wasn’t shot after that time, would’ve been too late in the day, and he was supposed to be in the park at three but never showed. It had to have happened before then.

  I lean back in the chair, rocking back and forth with frustration, and then call my father. He picks up on the first ring.

  “Cove, can I call you back? Your mother and I are talking right now.”

  “No. Tell me what time you were at the Scarlett today,” I demand as I grind my teeth.

  “I... we’re in the middle of something...” he sighs and I hear the terrace door slide open and shut behind him. “How did you know I was there?” he whispers.

  “The fucking camera, that’s how.”

  “So then you know the time. What do you want?”

  “Goddammit, Dad. I want to know if you got there before four?”

  “No,” he replies in a soft voice. “The three of us met at that time, but decided it wasn’t the best place to talk, so we went elsewhere.”

  “You know, I can’t believe how full of...”

  “You done?” my father cuts me off before my aggression pulls our relationship into an even deeper hole.

  I remind myself to chill... make amends... repair this. “Alright. Enjoy your evening.” I toss my phone on my desk without waiting for his goodbye, and then get to work.

  Complete orders, pay bills, go over two applications and make a note to call references; it’s amazing how digitized our lives have become. I can work any hour of the day or night because everything’s online. Business orders, bank accounts, utilities, and after an hour I feel better that the items with approaching deadlines are taken care of, and everything else can be finished tomorrow while we’re open.

  I look at the screen and tap my finger splints on the keyboard, wondering who the online Cove Everton is today. Sophia looked us up a few months ago, but thank fucking God she didn’t come across much, just the business and one family photo that was shot in front of the Scarlett for our website. I want a private life and I’m not the social media type, but Sophi
a sure loves it. She has a Facebook site, but who doesn’t, I mean besides me? I’m sure our kid will have one by the time he or she is five.

  Soph sometimes bugs me to Google myself, which I never do. But now, with David’s so-called suicide, I have a feeling my name’s gonna show up in cyberspace over the next couple of days as owner of the business where it occurred, and you can never get rid of that shit once it’s out there. Can anyone in this world keep a private life from this point on, or will we all eventually end up with a digital identity? I guess nowadays that starts at birth with the digital announcement. Yeah, with newspapers disappearing left and right, kids are online from the time they take their first breath.

  Sophia and I know if we type our porn names in we’ll have pages of search results to go through. I’m sure our videos from Jameson Industries still float around, and some of my older stuff as well. I’d hate for my kid to ever come across that shit.

  My fingers still tap on the keyboard as I hesitate... and finally take the plunge and type, c-o-v-e e-v-e-r-t-o-n.

  Two results. One’s the Scarlett, of course, and the other’s Sophia’s Facebook site. I click on it and see she has me listed as her husband, with photos of the two of us on her wall... all public. Fuck, I wish I would’ve known she had my face plastered across her site. I suppose it’s nice; makes me feel secure in a sense, and I’m glad she doesn’t list her maiden name. Whoa.

  “Who the hell are all these people?” I whisper, going through her friends’ list. Over two hundred, and I didn’t even know she had one. Wait, my mother? My mother has a Facebook site? Jesus.

  Her wall shows a recent post by some guy named Evan. It’s a photo of her, looks a few years old, like she was in college at the time. I click on his name but his site’s private, and his profile photo is of a rusty old SAAB. There’s no picture of the guy anywhere. Why the fuck is she hiding this stuff from me? Again, with the dishonesty.

  I gaze at the ceiling and sigh. I shouldn’t be a shithead and spy on her... but it’s public... not even set to private for Christ’s sake... and there’s a second message from this Evan fucker asking her to meet him for a coffee. She commented that he should text her.

  Wait, this guy has her number? Who the hell is he? I’m about to type a search for his name when I see Ivy on the front security cam. She looks drunk in the dim streetlight, stumbling and reaching for our door. I hear a knock and the screen shows her banging at the door.

  I look back at the Facebook site, and then at Ivy. Damn it. Breathe. I unclench my fist and try to change my thoughts. I need to give Soph the benefit of the doubt, and if she had something to hide she would’ve set her stuff to private. But... who the fuck are all these people?

  There’s a second knock and then I see Ivy slide to the sidewalk. Her back’s against the door and her position copies mine when I held the gun to my head. I glance at it, still on the floor then look back to Ivy. If she feels anything like I did an hour ago, she needs help.

  I place my phone in my pocket, put my shirt back on, and head downstairs. She falls backward as I open the door and then moans when her head hits our concrete floor. Fuckin’ A, she’s wasted.

  Our eyes meet and she smiles. “You’re my brother,” she says with an awkward laugh that fills the room and echoes down the street. A few people are out; walking to Murphy’s Grill no doubt, but not much else is open in the early part of the week, and they don’t seem to care that a drunk girl is spread across the entrance of my business.

  I pull her all the way in and close the door. The last thing I need is another call placed to the police about an incident at the Scarlett.

  “Can you get up?” I offer my hand but she misses it by a good two inches. I’d say she’s in that first drunken stage when everything is kick ass, but soon the room’s gonna start to spin and the next hour will be hell.

  “You need a ride home?”

  “I met my dad today,” she whispers. “Why do you think he never loved me?”

  Her question breaks my heart and I try to change the subject. It’s hard to hear her over the ringing noise still in my ears from the gun. “What are you doing here, Ivy? And how much did you have to drink?”

  “My dad here?”

  “No. Just me.”

  “You’re my brother,” she repeats with a slur. “Do you love me?”

  “Damn it,” I exhale and run my fingers through my hair. Maybe I should call Kaitlyn to come get her, but I think twice about that as I study her face and can tell she’s got more in her than just alcohol. Her mother said she dealt prescription meds to her friends, and most likely that means she’s an abuser as well. I kneel and touch her cold hand. Her eyes start to roll back. “Shit, Ivy. Stay with me.” I shake her and she smiles once more, then starts to slip away. “What the fuck did you take?”

  I can’t rouse her.

  Son of a bitch.

  Fuck me.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The ambulance pulls away and the small groups of onlookers who have gathered disperse. She’s alive. Thankfully she didn’t die.

  “Long day for you, Mr. Everton?” Detective Ferguson, who I met earlier, shakes my hand while his eyes scan my business.

  “And for you as well,” I reply.

  “My days are always long,” he smiles. “A rape, a suicide, and now a second attempted suicide? Think your business may be a little unlucky? Seems like a pretty big coincidence for us to keep showing up here... and twice in the same day? Two suicides?”

  “One suicide.”

  “Yeah, well. Let’s hope she pulls through.”

  His presence in the Scarlett makes me uncomfortable and my palms start to sweat. “I know I look suspicious. I’m not ignorant when it comes to these things, and I have an idea of what’s going through your head, Detective, but I have Ivy on my security camera. It’s up in my office. I can prove that she showed up this way.”

  “Mr. Everton, I didn’t say you were guilty of anything, I only mentioned it’s more than unusual for something like this to occur.” He puts his notebook and report away then holds out his hand for me to lead the way. “But, anything you have will be helpful.”

  We walk toward the stairs and my ringing ears remind me of the shot I took. Dear God, my gun is on the floor. Shit. And my flask is next to it. I fired a weapon, inside city limits, while drinking. Oh fuck me; that could easily mean a few years in prison. Why didn’t I think? How could I be so...

  I hear a loud bark in the bar area. Haverty’s scolding voice sounds, a relentless howl is next, and then an explosion of barks echo throughout the room as we reach the top of the stairs and walk into the office. The Detective heads to the railing and looks down at the scene; giving me just enough time to take a seat at my desk and slide the gun back in the bottom drawer. He turns and sees me reach down and pulls out his gun in defense.

  I raise my splinted hand above my head, and then set my flask on my desk with the other.

  “It fell earlier,” I say, pointing to the flask. He lowers his firearm and nods.

  “Show me the footage, Mr. Everton.”

  I hear footsteps and Haverty appears in the doorway with Prudence and Max drooling on my office floor. It must be time for their final walk for the night, and I’ve never been happier to see those two little shits... as well as their big shit owner. He flips the light switch on the wall and my two floor lamps turn on, bringing us out of the dark.

  I wave him in as I stare at the screen and find the footage. The Detective and Haverty stand next to me and wait. It only takes a few minutes before I have it set and let it play.

  “She okay?” Haverty asks once he sees the footage and realizes what’s going on.

  “I hope so. Can you stick around for a while?”

  “Dogs okay?” he holds up their leashes with his request.

  “More than you know, buddy.”

  The Detective plays the footage a second time then says he’ll have to send a guy out to get a copy for the report. “Too bad you didn�
�t have one of these set in the back,” he says.

  “I know. Did David leave a note, or anything like that?” I question.

  “Cove,” Haverty shakes his head. “Knock it off.”

  The Detective looks at him inquisitively, before answering my question.

  “We’ve found a few things on his phone, and we still have some texts and emails to go through, but from what we’ve uncovered, I would say David was undoubtedly suicidal.”

  “No shit?” I question.

  “No shit, Mr. Everton. Let me make a call to get a guy down here for that footage, and then we’ll be out of your hair and I can finally get home for the evening.” I nod while he pulls out his cell.

  Haverty rubs the stomachs of his dogs. They pant in excitement and roll around with their short legs in the air. I smile at the thought that those two dogs just saved me from being arrested and thrown in jail. Fuck, I hope that footage in my office won’t be viewed. I look at the Detective then back at my screen and pull up the window quickly while he’s on the phone. I’ve only got about thirty seconds to see what that camera captured.

  I fast-forward and watch myself punching the heavy bag, drinking, throwing my flask, and falling to my knees with my back to the camera. I crawl out of the shot and my desk conceals the rest of my dumbass slip-up. It’s all fairly dark footage, but I can see my form. The Detective will surely be able to tell it’s me. Good thing there’s no sound. I doubt they’ll even watch it, but just in case I think I’m covered. I close it out along with all the other cams, and only leave the front door camera open on my desktop.

  My pocket chimes as a text comes in, just as the Detective is ending his call. From Soph... she misses me. She has no idea how much I’d rather be home with her instead of sweating my balls off in my office, thinking about the discharged gun just a foot away. That bullet better be in the wall and not lying on the floor downstairs for anyone to come across. I text her back, not letting on anything’s wrong.

  Need you. Hard for you. Home soon.