Anything for Her

by Lola StVil

  “It’s for a good cause and I’m sure it’s tasteful.”

  “The auction itself is really classy, but the women…they are animals!”

  “It can’t be that bad.”

  “I have faced vicious guys with real cruel streaks, I’ve had guns, knives, and on one occasion, a chainsaw pointed at my throat. And yet the only thing that truly scares me are the women at the auction,” I reply as she laughs.

  “Okay, now I have to get you to take part in this,” she says, laughing so hard her whole body moves with her.

  “It’s not funny, Shay. Last year, a firefighter had to go take some mental health days because he was so traumatized from that night.”

  “Yup, I’m definitely going to this thing,” she replies.

  “Do you understand what I just said? A NYC firefighter, a guy who gets paid to walk into fire, was traumatized from just an hour in the room with those women. There’s one old bat in particular—Mrs. Brubaker. Her husband died and left her a ton of money. She lives for this event. She gets her hands on the itinerary before anyone else and she circles the guy she wants to take home with her. In fact, her list has become so popular; it’s now a blog. She calls it Y&T with Doris.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Young and Tinder.”

  “Please tell me you made the list,” she says as tears start to fill her eyes. She can barely contain her laughter now.

  “Are you kidding, all my brothers and I are there. I went over to her place once after she called my mom, frantic that someone was in her house. I went to make sure everything was okay.”

  “Was there an intruder?”

  “I saw nothing! What I did note, however, was that horny old bag ‘accidentally’ dropping shit so I could pick it up while she looked at my ass.”

  “Please stop, I can’t breathe,” she says as she howls with laughter.

  “Hey, that’s not funny. On my way out, she grabbed my ass and growled in my ear. I swear if she wasn’t a woman…”

  Shay is now covering her face as the laughter rolls though her body. I scold her, “You’re so fucked up for laughing, it’s not funny. I was manhandled,” I say, trying to sound serious but laughing halfway through. It takes a while for the laughter to die down, but when it does, we’re left looking into each other’s eyes as the world around us disappears. Her eyes are glistening from the happy tears she just shed. Her face is flushed and her pupils are dilated.

  How is she this beautiful? How does that even happen? I ask myself in awe as the laughter dies down. I want her like I’ve never wanted another human being in my life. My need to have her is growing with every passing moment. She’s lied to me and she’s fucked us over. Yet, I need her in ways I have never needed anyone before and it’s scaring the shit out of me.

  “We should get going,” I say as I try to rein in my thoughts.

  “Yup, I’m ready. So, you’re not gonna call your mom?” she asks as I place a few bills on the table.

  “Only after I make sure she has filled in all the slots she needs for the auction.”

  “Okay, but you are breaking an old lady’s heart by not participating,” she warns.

  “No, my mom will be fine.”

  “Not her, Mrs. Brubaker. You are denying her a chance to take ‘a little piece of Logan’ home with her. Now, that’s just cruel,” she teases as we make our way out the door.

  I laugh and joke, “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure it’s hard to get over me.”

  “It is, Logan, it really is…”

  (Present)

  I’m not really sure what I expected as far as the trial prep but it’s grueling. We go over the same questions again and again. The ADA, Paul Marks, makes me recall every little detail of the night Malone killed Joanne. It’s awful. When we are finally done, Paul nods with satisfaction.

  “Not bad. I’d like to see you again before you take the stand. This time, in my office,” he says as I head for the door.

  “I’m leaving town, I won’t be back until the trial,” I reply.

  “Sorry, I don’t think that’s a good idea. We need to keep prepping,” he says with a deep frown. Paul is stocky, balding, and has a pleasant enough smile. But when he’s in lawyer mode, he’s relentless and cunning.

  “Well, I’m leaving anyway,” I reply as I roll my eyes.

  “Are you upset with me?” he asks.

  “You were a real dick just now. You basically accused me of making the whole thing up.”

  “I am doing what Malone’s lawyer will do—except he will do much worse. I need you to be prepared for that,” he counters.

  “Well if your job was to be a jerk, then job well done,” I reply.

  “Hey, I’m on your side here. I want to get this guy too. Why don’t you tell me where you’re staying and I’ll come see you, we can prep there.”

  “No, I’d prefer to keep that location to myself,” I reply. The truth is I don’t know where Logan is taking me but I figure he wouldn’t want me to say, even if I did know.

  “Fine, but on the day of the trial, I’d prefer it if you’d come to the courthouse a few hours early. We can go over your testimony again.”

  “I can do that,” I reply as I extend my hand out to him. “Sorry I was so snippy just now. I know you’re just doing your job.” He shakes my hand and we agree on a meeting place before the trial. I enter the ladies’ room and splash cold water on my face. I can’t wait to get this thing over with and send Malone to prison. When I walk out of the ladies’ room Logan is waiting for me at the end of the hallway.

  “How’d it go?” he asks as he guides me towards the double doors of the police station.

  “I hated every moment of it but it’s good that we did it. I know what to expect now,” I reply.

  We make our way down the steps, just as Wyatt’s car careens to a screeching halt in front of the station. Wyatt quickly sticks his head out, looking alarmed and on edge.

  “Glad I caught you guys. Shay, I need a favor,” Wyatt says.

  Logan and I read the concern on his face. Wyatt looks over at me with desperation. “What is it?” I ask.

  “There’s a situation a few blocks from here. The neighbors heard fighting, from the couple next door. He has been routinely beating her up and she had enough. She has him at gunpoint. The counselor we normally use is on vacation and the guy we have covering for her is useless. Shay, I’d really like your help on this,” he says.

  “No. No way,” Logan replies.

  “You let her walk into a shop where she was being followed by two guys with guns,” Wyatt replies.

  “That was different. I was right there and so was Banshee,” Logan reminds him.

  “Look, there’s another person coming to cover for the useless guy we have in there right now. In the meantime, we could really use your help,” Wyatt says.

  “When is this other counselor coming?” I ask.

  “It could take up to thirty minutes,” Wyatt replies. He then turns his attention to Logan. “You know what kind of craziness could happen in that time.”

  “Exactly why I don’t want her involved, Wyatt!” he snaps.

  “Excuse me, can you two gentlemen leap out of the 1950s and join us here in 2018? Please,” I ask.

  “What does that mean?” Logan asks.

  “It means I appreciate that you two care about my well-being but I can think for myself,” I bark at them.

  “You’re actually thinking of going?” Logan replies.

  “No, I’m actually going. Are you coming with us?” I reply as I look at him. He gives Wyatt a hard look.

  “I won’t let anything happen to her, she’ll be surrounded by officers the whole time. She’s just there to talk a woman out of blowing her husband’s head off,” Wyatt swears to his brother.

  “Yeah, you ever think we should turn a blind eye and let the woman give her husband what he deserves?” Logan asks as we get into Wyatt’s car.

  “Every damn day, but that’s not my call,” Wy
att says as the car takes off, sirens blaring.

  ***

  When we pull up there are half a dozen cop cars on the street and the block has been sectioned off. Wyatt gets us through the crowd and tells the officers in uniform they need to do a better job keeping the crowd at bay. We enter the lobby of the building, where a command post has been set up. Everyone’s attention is focused on the apartment across from the elevator.

  “Just get her to talk to you, the other guy couldn’t even do that,” Wyatt says.

  “What’s her name?” I ask.

  “Jennifer Ode,” Wyatt replies as he tries to place a bulletproof vest on me.

  “No, I don’t need one,” I say.

  “The hell you don’t!” Logan says before I can explain.

  “It’s not that I don’t need one but I don’t think it’s a good idea to have one. She needs to think of me as just another woman like her. I come in wearing any kind of gear and it puts a wall between us. Tell me I’m wrong,” I dare the brothers.

  “That may be so but you can’t just go in there,” Logan argues.

  “There are cops everywhere and you two are a breath away. I am safe. I’m just gonna walk in and talk to her. That’s it,” I vow.

  “And if it looks like she’s making any move of any kind—” Logan begins.

  “I’ll get out of the way and let the cops handle it. I swear.”

  “Okay,” Logan says tightly. Wyatt nods and steers me towards the apartment.

  “Jenny, remember I told you someone else was coming to talk to you? She’s here, okay? Her name is Shay and she just wants to talk,” Wyatt calls out carefully.

  “No! I don’t want to fucking talk. No more talking!” the woman shouts.

  “I promise, Jenny, I only have one question,” I vow.

  “One question and then you’ll go away?” she shouts from behind the door.

  “Yes,” I reply.

  “Okay, you can come in but everyone else has to leave,” she orders.

  Wyatt shakes his head “no.” And Logan, who is now right behind Wyatt, agrees with his brother.

  “I can’t help her if I don’t get in. And the only way to get in is this. We don’t have a choice,” I inform them. The two of them silently confer with each other but I start moving towards the door. Wyatt signals to the officers manning the door to let me in. He tells Jenny I’m about to enter so that she doesn’t get startled and accidentally fire.

  I slowly enter the shabby apartment where Jenny—a bruised and battered woman in her late forties—stands over her kneeling husband, gun in hand. The husband is crying and begging for his life. There are three officers in the apartment with their guns pointed at her. Wyatt calls for them to stand down, and they slowly put their weapons down and retreat from the apartment. But once they clear the doorway, they stand, ready to fire should they need to.

  I feel adrenaline running through me. My hands are icy and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I can see Logan and the others, standing only a few feet away. It helps me stay calm and not panic. I look Jenny over; her right eye is swollen, there’s a gash on her cheek, and there are bruises up and down her body.

  “You said you had one question. What is it?” she asks, never once taking her eyes off of her husband.

  “What did you use to cover up the bruises?” I ask.

  “That’s what you want to know?!” she shouts.

  “Yeah. My mom used concealer but sometimes it wasn’t enough. She had to add foundation. Sometimes none of that worked and she had to hide her bruises with a—”

  “Sweater,” Jenny interrupts, filled with anger. “In the middle of July. Sweaters and turtlenecks all so no one would know. You fucking bastard!” she shouts as she inches the gun closer to his head. Right away the cops counter and move closer.

  “Everyone relax!” Wyatt orders. “Shay…” he cautions me.

  “Jenny, the cops don’t want you to shoot your asshole of a husband but I couldn’t care less if you take his life or not. In fact, I’m sure he deserves to die.”

  “What the hell, lady?” the man on the floor cries.

  “You shut the fuck up,” I snap at him.

  “You want me to shoot him?” Jenny asks.

  “I’m okay if today is his last day on Earth. I know what he did to you. He stripped you of everything. He took your peace of mind, he invaded your world like a plague and killed everything in sight—all your hopes, all your dreams, and any sense of self you had. He beat it out of you.”

  “Yes! Yes, he wouldn’t stop. I just kept begging but…” She sobs as she looks down at him, rage seeping through her pores.

  “I know, sweetheart, my dad did the same thing to Mom for years. She tried to be the perfect wife but it was never enough,” I reply.

  “Everything I did was wrong. He’d beat me like a dog because the towels were folded wrong or because we got a bill in the mail we couldn’t pay. Everything was my fault.”

  “Yeah, I know. That’s how animals like him work. They make everything your fault. There’s no heart or soul inside them. They are pure evil.”

  “Yes, so I have to shoot him. It’s the only way.” She pleads as her hands shake.

  “Like I said, Jenny, I don’t give a shit about that loser kneeling in front of you. And yeah, maybe you should kill him. God knows he deserves to die. But before you do that, you should know what happens after the gun goes off. You should know that when you pull the trigger, the only person who actually changes is you.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I shot my stepfather.”

  “You did?”

  “Yeah, I did. I thought he was going to finally kill my mom. I raced to the drawer where he kept his gun and pulled the trigger. I just grazed his arm but if my mom didn’t stop me I would have kept shooting.”

  “I’m not aiming for his arm, and unlike you, I won’t miss.”

  “Jenny, I was glad I missed because had I shot him, I would have let him win. He wanted to make me as miserable as he was. He wanted to drain the life out of me and my mom. And resorting to violence was the same as letting him win.

  “We can’t do that, Jenny. We can’t become the monsters we are trying to flee from. I don’t care about your husband but I care about you. I care what happens to you. You finally have a voice now; people are listening to you. Everyone knows what he did to you. You can’t use that newfound voice in prison. You are done with this coward; you won back your life, your freedom. But if you take that shot, you are letting him win. You take that shot and it will be like giving your freedom back to him.”

  “I called 911 a hundred times and nobody cared. Nobody came. I had to do this.”

  “I get that but you are a strong woman who is going to save herself. You are going to put down the gun and take control of your life. Please, Jenny, don’t let him win. Save yourself.”

  “What happened to your dad?”

  “He’s in prison, where he belongs. He has no control over when he eats, when he gets up, or even when he sees daylight. He hates every minute of it. But that’s where he belongs. That’s the same place this asshole gets to go—if you let him. Everyone here knows he’s abused you; now let them put him where he can’t ever hurt another woman again.”

  “I don’t know…I want him to pay.” She sobs.

  “He will. I promise you. But right now, you are going to do something for yourself. Something to prove he didn’t strip away your humanity—put down the gun. Don’t let him take any more from you. I can see it in your face, Jenny—I know you’re a good person. Don’t let him take your soul, sweetheart. Your soul is whole and it’s intact despite all the shit he tried to do to take it from you. Don’t let him take it now,” I plead. She motions with the gun and leans in as if she’s going to shoot him. The officers take aim at her; a chill washes over me.

  “Jenny, please!” I shout, and before I realize what I’m doing, I’ve placed myself between her and her husband. What the hell? It’s too late. I�
�m now standing in the way of Jenny’s shot. She’s shocked.

  “You want to die for him?” she demands.

  “No, I don’t. What I want is to help you give yourself what he couldn’t give you—freedom. You have it. He took your power away and now you have it. Do not waste it. Do you hear me? You owe it to every other woman who has begged to get away from her abusers. You got away. Don’t mess this up. Put the gun down. Please.” She slowly lowers her weapon and the cops move in. I inhale and exhale deeply. It’s the first breath I’ve taken since I entered the apartment…

  (Present)

  Logan and I get back into Wyatt’s car and head to the police station. It’s only a ten-minute ride but it feels more like an hour. The anger that’s bouncing off Logan is so strong, I’m sure even the pedestrians feel it. He hasn’t said anything but judging by his rigid posture, the hard line of his jaw, and his dark narrowed eyes, he is incensed. Wyatt looks at his brother in the rearview mirror and frowns deeply. We’re at a red light and every passing moment crackles with tension.

  When we finally get to the station, we get out of the car and walk through the double doors. Logan has yet to make eye contact. Shit, I really have never seen him this angry. We walk to Wyatt’s desk, and he takes out a yellow notepad and tells me to write out my statement.

  “I gotta take care of something, you watch her,” Logan says to Wyatt in a quiet yet lethal tone.

  “Logan…” Wyatt begins but when he sees the searing look on Logan’s face, he decides not to protest. Logan walks away without so much as a glance in my direction. I start to take off after him but Wyatt takes my hand and cautions against it.

  “You need to stay here,” he says firmly.

  “Who cares about the stupid statement? I should go and to talk to Logan,” I insist.

  “No, what you should have done is talk to Jenny and gotten out of the way once she refused to drop the gun. That’s what you should have done. Instead you placed yourself in the middle of an explosive situation.”