“Sweetheart?” I say cautiously. That startles her as if she had been in some subconscious daze.
“Sweetheart?” she repeats. “I had your club bugged! How can you call me sweetheart?”
“Calm down. It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not okay. Nothing about this is okay!”
Then she looks at me. “Drugs. You snorted cocaine in front of me. Are you still on drugs?”
“Mateo?” Nick hisses from behind me in a tone I’ve not heard come out of his mouth in a long time.
I ignore him and focus on April. “I haven’t touched the stuff since that day. I was pissed. I am so damn sorry about that. That’s not me. Not anymore.”
“You hate me. You said so,” she chokes out as I approach. Her hands are up defensively. “Why did you take care of me all these weeks? Why are you being nice to me? Is this some sort of game? Payback? Oh my God, you called me a whore!”
“What? No! Of course not. I got to know you. The real you. You promised we’d move forward and forget the past. Stay with me here in the present, April.” I approach her slowly. “I like you. I never hated you.”
She collapses to her knees on the floor of my father’s office and begins to cry, big gut-wrenching sobs that tear my heart in half. “Take her home, Matt,” Nick says softly, his voice filled with concern, and tosses me the keys to his car.
I bend down to her and pull her to me. “It’s okay,” I assure her. “You’re okay.”
“It’s not okay. I screwed up your life and my life, and it’ll never be okay.”
“You’re overwhelmed. Everything just rushed in all at once. Let’s go home. Get some sleep. Things’ll feel better in the morning.”
She’s hysterical, and I’m not sure how to calm her down. I lift her up and carry her out. My brother comes to help by pressing the elevator door. Then he clears the way so that we can leave through the back door of the club.
By the time we make it to my house, she’s passed out. I carry her inside and lay her on the bed.
I grab a bottle of water and sit on my couch, shaken by what just happened. What’ll things be like in the morning? My thoughts are all over the place. When she was having her breakdown, my only concern was her well-being. I barely reacted to what she was doing or saying because I was so worried about her. But now it’s crashing down on me. She had my club bugged. I mean, yeah, I understood she was undercover, but it didn’t occur to me that we were bugged. And, Jesus, we had sex in my office. I’m so disappointed and so upset that my hands shake, and the rage I buried begins to bubble back up.
Where else are there bugs? Did she bug my fucking home?
My keys…the ones that went missing one day. I thought I’d just dropped them. She likely took them. And those bugs, were they only audio? After the arrest, did they continue recording?
I walk around my home, completely paranoid. I guess seeing the proof of her deceit with my own eyes was like a bucket of cold water. There’s no denying it—she bugged me and had us arrested. She lied. I knew that already, but damn…
Maybe it’s hitting me so hard because I haven’t had an opportunity to give the feelings any kind of closure. She came back into my life, we fought, then she was injured and moved in. There’s never been a real explanation.
I watch her breathe in and out on my bed, exhausted by the breakdown she just had. I’m feeling so confused. I want to want her, but then the anger comes back and I can’t help but wonder if my house is bugged. How many times did she come in and out of here?
Standing up, I go into the living room and start to pace. I feel around my television set and the few scattered photos I have on a small mantel by the television. Then I go to my bedroom and feel around everywhere. If she bugged my room, the room she slept in with me, I will never forgive her. The intimate things we talked about. The things we did.
Was nothing sacred?
I’m checking everything now, looking behind frames, moving things around. I even flip over the cushions.
The kitchen.
We spent a lot of time cooking together and eating. I open all the drawers and feel around. Nothing. I’m out of breath, heaving, my anger now at a level ten.
Your house needs color, she said once.
The art she gave me. It easily takes up half the wall. I unmount it off the wall and start to feel around the frame for a bug or a camera. Something. There’s nothing attached to it, but I can’t help but feel that this is some sort of set-up.
Why would someone who wants to pump me for information give me an expensive piece of art? Did she really love art, or was it just an act?
I feel the canvas itself. Nothing. I set it up against the wall and sit down on the floor, breathless and just stare at it.
No!
I grab a knife from the kitchen and tear the canvas off the frame—carefully at first, but then I get angrier and tear it until it’s in tatters. And there’s no bug.
A small hand on my shoulder jolts me out of my haze. I back away.
“What happened?” she says, looking around at the mess I’ve created. “What’s going on?”
“Tell me everything, April. All of it. I need to know.”
“You know everything.”
“No. I know you left. That’s all I know.”
“The stuff they had on the club was bad. Seriously, it was bad.”
“But Nick and I had nothing to do with it.”
She flinches. “You were in the club day in and day out—a club that was involved in drug trafficking. Looking at it from the outside, it’s kind of hard to believe you weren’t aware of it.”
“We weren’t!”
“I know that!” she yells back. “And I made sure everyone else knew that. I couldn’t say we were dating, because they’d have thought I was covering for you. So I took another case in order to stay away from you, so no one would question why the charges against you were dropped. To show the captain that you were just another mark and I was ready to move on to another case. I was tired of living a double life, but I did it for you, so that you could be free. I was only supposed to be gone for a month or two, and then once you were completely in the clear, I was going to come back and tell you the truth. But the case took a lot longer, and for a goddamn year I was undercover. And not the way it was here, where we had nice dinners and went to nice places. No, I had to hang out at seedy strip clubs and swinger parties, and see drugs being exchanged, snorted, and shot up. I had to pretend to like being groped by old drug lords. It was horrible, Matt. Fucking horrible, and it left me with a grimy feeling that didn’t come off no matter how many times I showered.”
“Groped? So you had sex with others? For work? It wasn’t just me?”
“No! God, no! I would never. I shouldn’t have even fallen for you. But I did. And I’m sorry for leading you on and lying, but Matt, I’m not sorry I fell in love with you. What happened between us was unexpected, not something I planned.”
“I don’t think I can do this, April. I look at you and all I see is betrayal. I’m so goddamn angry at you. I swear to God, I’ve tried. I’ve tried to separate you from June and I thought it was all working fine, but today, seeing the bugs…I just, I just can’t.”
With tears in her eyes she looks around. “You have every right to be angry, but I didn’t bug your house. I didn’t have a mic on me whenever we were together. After the second date I refused to wear my mic. It was just you and me most of the time. I tried to protect you as much as I could, Matt.”
“Most of the time. But not all the time.” I shake my head. I can’t even look at her right now. “I gotta go.”
“Where? I’ll go. This is your apartment. I’ll leave.”
“Do whatever you want. I need to go.”
“Matt, please,” she sobs. “Don’t run from me. I still love you. I never stopped. That was never a lie.”
With the keys biting my hand and my jaw twitching, I tell her, “I can’t forgive you, April. I just…every time I look at you
all I’ll ever see is what you’ve done.”
April
Unable to be in his apartment for one more second, I pack my bags and call a cab. Once I’m at home, I call Dean and tell him everything. We’ve been talking regularly, and he’s been trying to persuade me to move to L.A. I’m really considering it now. I need a change of scenery and some space from all I’ve lost here in Miami.
Dean reminds me to contact the investigators handling my case and to go see them. Now that I have my memory back, I need to give them a statement. But I don’t feel like doing that. Instead, I look around my shitty little apartment. I can pack everything up in ten minutes and be gone from here, and no one would know. Not one single person would even care I was gone. Would anyone even miss me?
It’s time for me to move on. Rebuild.
And now that I’ve made this decision, I’m resolute.
I call the detectives working on the case, and they are at my apartment within an hour. No matter how hard it is to relive the attack, I’m glad that I can get this out of the way. I hope Donovan won’t see the outside of his jail cell for a long, long time.
After the detectives leave, I collect everything I own, which is, sadly, not much.
Then I call my friend and tell him my decision. “Dean?”
“Hi, honey. Are you better?”
“No. But I will be. I’ve decided—I’m going to move to L.A.”
“Really?”
“Really. Do you think I can stay with you and Lori for a few days?”
“Of course. You can stay with us as long as you need.”
“I don’t have much. I’ll ship a few boxes to your house, and then I’ll take a flight tomorrow and start looking for an apartment.”
“Wait. What? Tomorrow?”
“Yeah. I won’t stay longer than a few days, a week tops.”
“Calm down, April. You’re reacting. Why the rush all of a sudden?”
“The last few weeks were like a stupid wasted vacation. I didn’t do a damn thing.”
“You recovered.”
“Yeah, and I put Matt through the wringer while I did that. Now that everything’s come crashing back at once, I just…I have to leave.”
“You’re at warp speed. Take a beat, honey. There’s no rush.”
“There is. I need to get my life together. I fucked up. You were right. I should have stepped away and backed out when I started getting feelings for Matt. I can’t keep doing this to him. He needs to move on too.”
“You can’t help who you fall in love with.”
“I know, Dean. But I’ve hurt too many people. I need to leave. These poor people shouldn’t have to deal with me one more day.”
“I don’t like this,” he tells me with a sigh. “But we’re here for you, whenever you get here and as long as you need.”
“Thanks. I’ll see you soon. Say hi to Lori for me.”
Matt
Somehow I end up driving eight hours north to Marianna, Florida, where my father is imprisoned. I haven’t visited him in months and I don’t know why I’m even here, but here I am. It’s the middle of the night, and visiting hours won’t start for another five hours. I check into the first motel I see and try to sleep for a few hours, but of course that isn’t going to happen. The truth is, the long drive helped cool my temper, but I’m still feeling so betrayed, I don’t know how to move past it. Since sleep isn’t happening, I walk across the street to the twenty-four-hour diner to wait out the hours with coffee.
At eight-fifteen in the morning when the doors open for visitors, I’m already waiting impatiently nearby. I sign in, go through the security and screening process, and then I’m sitting in a large room waiting for them to bring my father down.
Up and down, up and down my leg goes. I stand and move around the room, unable to keep still, until one of the security guys starts eyeing me suspiciously. So I sit my ass back down and wait and wait…
“Matty boy,” my father says as soon as he goes through the double metal doors. They clang shut behind him. I give him a quick hug. Although I can tell he wants to continue holding me, I step away and sit down.
“How are you doing, Dad?” He looks good, considering. There are more lines around his eyes and at the corners of his mouth, but like always, he has a smile.
“I’m good, Matty. You know, I could be better, but they treat me okay in here.” This is a medium-security prison, so I suppose it could be a lot worse, but still, he’s in jail.
“Good? How could you be good? I don’t understand.” It’s like all these things I never got to tell him start surfacing. “How the hell can you be smiling?”
“Is that why you came here? To argue with me?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know!” I rub my head with my palm and then squeeze the back of my neck. “I’m angry,” I admit.
“So am I,” he says calmly and I’m surprised. He doesn’t look like an angry guy. He looks like a guy who’s been inconvenienced but is handling things well. Like he’s at a subpar spa.
“Then why are you fucking smiling?” I spit out.
“What the hell am I supposed to do?” He stands, and I notice his hands are fisted. “Of course I’m not good. I’m in jail. I’ll never see my sons get married. I’ll never meet my grandchildren. I’ll die in this godforsaken place. But what am I supposed to do, Mateo? I’m happy to see you. I’m happy you and your brother are well. So I smile. I want you two to visit me. I want to know what’s going on, and I don’t know what to do to get you both to forgive me.” His eyes are glassy. I’ve never, not ever, seen my father cry.
People always said that I took after my dad, and I always admired that—until he got arrested. Then it felt more like an insult than a compliment. But now I guess I can see it. He’s just like me. Putting on a brave face. Pretending that nothing bothers him. Pretending he’s okay when inside nothing is okay. Everything is fucked up and we don’t know how to deal.
“You can start by apologizing. You can start by telling me why you did it.”
“I have apol—”
“No! You’ve never apologized.”
He lets out a breath and sits back down. “I am sorry. You know I’m sorry. I never meant for you two to be caught up in my mess. I would do anything for you to know how damn sorry I am.” He clears his throat and swipes under his eyes. I can’t seem to say anything; words are stuck in my throat. “I was greedy. There’s no other way to describe it. I made a lot of money and it felt great. I never thought I’d be caught. There’s no other excuse I can give you, Matty. Nothing else but that I was wrong.” He sounds humbled, and this is the first time I’ve ever seen the sorrow in his eyes. “Why are you here, Matty?”
“I met a woman and everything’s all fucked up and I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t think I can.” God, it feels good to say these words out loud. “She was an undercover cop. You met her—June.”
“The gorgeous girl with the black hair.”
“Yeah, except, her name isn’t June, it’s April, and she’s a blonde. She was the one who helped build the case against you.”
“Shit…”
“Exactly. She had us bugged. She says she helped get me and Nick off without charges, but I don’t know how I can forgive her for lying, for having us arrested. She’s the reason you’re here, for God’s sake.”
He reaches forward and puts his palms over my hands. “No, she’s not. Matt, I’m in jail because I’m guilty. That’s the simple truth. If she had anything to do with you and your brother not being here as well, then I’m grateful to her. I’d like to meet her and thank her, actually.”
“Dad—”
“No. Listen to me, son. She may have helped put me here, but I did this. Me. It was all me. Not her. Life takes strange turns, Matty. One minute you’re sitting high, thinking you’re untouchable, and the next a bus hits you or you get arrested or you find out you have an incurable illness. You never know. Something I’ve learned the hard way is to say what you feel at the moment you’
re feeling it. You can’t let what I did interfere with your relationships. I take it you love her, otherwise you wouldn’t be so torn up.”
“Moreno. One minute!” the guard calls.
Of course I love her. I don’t think I want to, but I do. So fucking much it hurts.
“At the very least, accept her apology—for my sake, so I can ease my guilt a little, son. I don’t want my actions to interfere any more with your life. I couldn’t handle that my stupid decisions got in the way of your happiness.”
I wipe my face, not even caring that there are tears in my eyes. He’s right. “I’m sorry I haven’t called or visited.”
“I hope you’ll start. I miss you, Matt. I’m proud of everything you’ve done. And never doubt that I am sorry about everything.”
“Moreno! Time’s up!” the guard says.
He stands and gives me a hug. Not an awkward man hug. A full-on, arms-wrapped-around-each-other father-son hug. “Love you, son.”
“Love you too, Dad.”
Then he turns and leaves, leaving me feeling so much lighter than I’ve felt in a long time.
I walk out of the metal doors and grab my stuff from the locker at the security point. I turn on my phone and my screensaver pops up. It’s a photo of April and me in my apartment making silly faces. A stab of pain hits my chest. When times have been good, they’ve been the best. The happiest moments of my life have all involved the time I’ve spent with April…and hell, even June. She’s the same woman I asked to move in with me a year ago, the same woman who tried to make dinner but burned the food. She’s the same woman who makes me laugh, makes me mad, but ultimately makes me feel as if everything has fallen into place. As if my life is complete. Fuck it. I need to take a risk and try to make it work, or else I’m going to be miserable my entire life. We’re both hurt and angry and I need to do something to convince her that trying is better than giving up. I scroll through all the photos on my phone, not just since April came back but the ones I had of June and send them to the one-hour printing back in Miami. I swipe the phone off, tuck it into my pocket, rev up my bike, and head home.
Make Me Stay: The Panic Series Page 21
