The Beast of Boston

by JL Mac

  Lan smiles tightly, its forced and insincere, and it makes her look like an imposter in my sister’s skin. The Lan I know is so far removed from who this person is. I tried telling mom that this dinner was going to be too much for her and that I don’t need a farewell party. She didn’t listen.

  “Oh, wow. Good job Mom,” she nods, smiling stiffly as she takes her seat beside me with her eyes fixed on the cake with a message scrawled in icing wishing me the ‘best of luck!’ Murphy has made sure to be in attendance. He sits discretely away, hanging back at a table nearby, and I notice how Lan glances his way now and then, checking that he’s there. She’s so attached to him and I can’t blame her. I’m actually kind of glad she has taken refuge with him. He makes her feel safe I suppose and that’s all that matters. He is sitting at his table, his back to us, looking at his cell phone, probably handling things with the crew. Murphy and Carrick text each other more than a couple of high school girls.

  Carrick.

  Thinking his name has me squirming in my seat remembering him on top of me last night. Mom chats animatedly with our longtime neighbor, Penny. I’m glad to see the life back in her eyes, the worry eased. But it didn’t truly leave, it just shifted a little. Lan is home with Mom now. It’s February, and it’s cold and soggy and leaden with snow and as miserable as ever. I will feel right at home in Seattle I think. April will make it one full year since she was kidnapped outside of Eden. July will make one year since I first entangled my life with Carrick’s. Hurt be damned, I wouldn’t change it because Lan has returned. She’s home, she’s back from her nightmare but she’s still not here, not truly. Watching her now is evidence of as much. She smiles and says hello to other people at the table as they come over and hug both of us, wishing me luck and murmuring how grateful they are that she returned home. Once everyone is in their seats, chatting amongst each other, I motion my chin toward the bathroom. Lan all but jumps to her feet to follow me.

  “Thank fuck,” she breathes heavily as soon as we enter the ladies room.

  “You okay?” I ask stupidly.

  “No. No, I’m not okay. I’m not fucking okay!” she snaps, her cheeks reddening, her hands shaking.

  “Okay. Okay,” I say holding my hands up. “Just take a deep breath. Do you have any of that anxiety medicine the doctor gave you?”

  “I—I took it already. I just, Ena, I don’t want to be here. I just want to go home. Can we leave?”

  “Stop, it’s okay, listen,” I coo rubbing her back. “No one expects you to be okay after everything you went through. No one—”

  “Of course, you do!” she snaps angrily. “I ran away like a stupid little girl remember? I wasn’t betrayed by a man I looked at like a dad. I wasn’t violated and humiliated. I wasn’t sold at a goddamn auction,” she grits her teeth, angry tears sliding down her face. “As far as they all know I was a stupid attention-seeking girl off throwing a fit because I was unhappy.” She spits the words like they taste bad.

  “Lan, I’m sorry. I don’t know everything that you went through, but just tell me how to help and I’ll do anything, okay? Anything at all. Do you want me to push back my flight?”

  “No. God! Just leave me alone Ena. Stop trying to manage me. Just—just go to Seattle and make your life what you want it to be, okay? Just leave me alone for a while,” she sighs tiredly, wipes her face, washes her hands and slips out the door. I brace my palms against the granite countertop between sink basins and let my head sag between my shoulders. The door opening behind me, forces my attention to the mirror.

  You have got to be fucking kidding me.

  “Looky here,” Kate purrs, sauntering over to the sink beside me.

  “Yeah, looky here,” I say barely containing the sneer I feel threatening to curl my lip into a feral snarl.

  “Whatcha lookin’ so down for?”

  “I’m not, but thank you for your concern, Kate. That’s touching,” I mock pleasure, touching my hand to my chest.

  “You can admit it if you want.”

  “Admit what, Kate?”

  “That you’re real torn up. I bet you can’t stand the fact he kicked your ass to the curb to come right back where he belongs. You’re jealous,” she accuses snidely, rubbing her hands down her own figure, a beaming grin on her collagen-filled, glossed lips.

  I can feel my stomach churning, my heart breaking further, my anger spiking. But somehow—miraculously—I match her grin and tousle my hair and go about washing my hands as though unaffected.

  “I can assure you, Kate, you have nothing I want or need.” I smile on the outside, drying my hands. “What are you doing here anyway? Surely you don’t indulge in Italian food, what with having to take your clothes off for a living still.” I arch a brow and fold my arms over my chest.

  “I’m here with Beast of course,” she beams as I shrink and crumble to dust on the inside.

  I make a beeline down the hall back to the dining area. I find Lan standing beside Mom, likely making an excuse to leave. I feel his gaze before I see him. My head swivels his direction of its own volition and I lock eyes with the man I hate to love. I shake my head so subtly it’s barely more than a tremble.

  How dare you.

  I break away from his penetrating eyes and go to Lan. “—Sorry. I don’t know if it was the eggs at breakfast or maybe the yogurt I’m just not feeling so good.”

  “Oh, that’s okay baby. Take my car. I’ll get a ride. Do you want me to bring you a plate home? Maybe you’ll feel like having some dinner later,” Mom offers with concern etched on her face.

  “No. No, you guys have fun and enjoy. I’m sure I’ll just take it easy for the rest of the night.”

  “I’ll take her home,” I interject. Mom nods.

  “Okay then. I’ll call you in a while to see how you’re feeling, all right?”

  “Okay,” she says hugging Mom. I do the same and wave goodbye to our table of friends—mostly Mom’s friends but still. The minute we’re outside, Lan starts tugging at the hairpin in her hair, letting it go free. She rubs her hands into her scalp and gulps bitter-cold fresh air like she’s been holding her breath. She’s a fucking wreck. So am I, frankly. Murphy comes to her and before she even lifts her head his direction she reaches out, finding his forearm and gripping him like she may fall over. A spear of jealousy ricochets through me at the sight.

  Murphy says nothing as he ushers her to his car and helps her in. He shuts the door and meets me at the rear of the car. It’s rare, but Murph sometimes shows emotion. I saw it when Will died. I saw it when Carrick crushed me beneath his foot like a bug, and I see it now.

  “I got her, E,” he assures me and I believe him wholeheartedly. Murphy is like a security blanket for Lan right now. He’s her closest friend—maybe more. He’s a coping mechanism. A method for finding her way to center, an anchor and if that’s who she needs to get through the roughest parts of this, then I’ll stand back and let him help her.

  “I know you got her, Murphy. Thank you,” I say quietly. I wrap my arms around his neck and hug him tightly. He hesitates at first but then he wraps his arms around me and hugs me in return. He’s a good hugger, and oddly enough he does seem to have a calming effect. Maybe it’s because he’s not very expressive or emotional? Maybe he balances her out? Maybe she can offload her abundance of emotion onto him?

  I release him and step away, waving before turning toward mom’s car parked around the side of the building. I round the corner and walk with my head hanging, studying my feet crunching in the snow, while my mind goes in a million directions. I’m glue that has so far kept things in one piece but I feel brittle and unsure that I can keep everything together much longer. I can’t save Lan from the demons that followed her home. I can’t even fully save myself from the demons that followed me home to the Perryman’s home when I was just a little girl. I can’t keep lying to Mom when I swear to her that things are getting better. I can’t keep lying for Lan. I can’t keep lying to myself about a whole host of thi
ngs, one being the state of my broken heart.

  “Hey.” My head snaps up to see Carrick leaning against Mom’s car.

  “You’re gonna dent the car,” I say dumbly.

  “You all right?” he says pushing off the car to approach me. I scoff at him and take a step backward.

  “Don’t pretend to give a shit and if you are asking out of pity, then spare me. I don’t need your fucking pity. I’m humiliated enough.”

  “Why would you be humiliated?”

  “Oh, I don’t know Carrick. I jumped right back in the sack with you last night just so you could scrape me off again first thing this morning and then Kate? Really? So gross. I swear to god you better use condoms when you fuck her because you never have with me. Can’t believe I let you do that,” I mumble shaking my head.

  “You’re the only woman I have ever fucked bare,” he growls.

  “Yeah well an STD screening to be sure never hurt anyone,” I clip with false cheer.

  “Why would you even bring her here?” I sigh, sending big fat puffs of condensation floating outward. “My farewell dinner is none of her business. Or yours. I know Murphy was here for Lan but you? Just had to take another jab at me didn’t you?

  Excuse me,” I attempt to push past him ignoring the fact that he definitely owns me even if I hate to admit it to myself because it feels like a mix between defeat and terminal illness. He catches my arm and pulls me closer.

  “Just wanted to say bye,” he says with a chilly smirk. I roll my eyes.

  “What do you want from me? Huh?” I bark, wrenching my arm away from him. “Wasn’t goodbye what you said this morning when you took me home after fucking me all night? Got your fill. Again. Then split. You’re so unstable and toxic for me. This madness between us stops. Now. I can’t,” I say closing my eyes to focus my thoughts. “I won’t keep doing this. You don’t want me long term. You made it clear that I don’t belong in your life so just let this go.”

  He grabs my arm again and tugs. I whimper and my chin trembles.

  “Want someone to fuck after you’ve peeled Kate off? That it? What do you want?” I snap, shoving him hard and slamming my balled fists into his chest. Angry tears burn tracks down my cheeks. “See? You aren’t even man enough to say anything to my face right now and if I stayed in this miserable city you’d always control my mind, my heart…” I run my fingers under my eyes, wiping away makeup that has smudged. “You know I used to think you were fearless and strong and the bravest most powerful person I’d ever met, but I was wrong. You’re the biggest coward I know.”

  “Yeah?” He huffs with his hands on his trim waist.

  “That’s right. You spend all your time pretending you don’t need or want me because you’re too scared to love me! I’m scared too, you know, but I love you anyway and it’s done nothing but ruin me,” I sob, poking my finger at his muscled chest.

  “Want me to fix that for you?” he says in a monotone voice and lifeless eyes. I back away warily and brace for something bad. I can feel it coming. I can see the ruthlessness in his eyes. The woman inside me balls into the fetal position, awaiting the blow.

  “I have Kate with me because I fuck her when I want a piece of quality ass. She doesn’t give me grief or think she loves me or that I love her all because I shoved my cock down her throat. Maybe you should try that out sometime.”

  “Fuck you!” I scream at him, outrage ratcheting my pulse up to mock speed.

  “No thanks,” he wrinkles his nose. “I’ve had enough,” he says with his eyes looking me over clinically. “Stop fooling yourself about love. If you were dumb enough to fall for me then that’s all on you but I have never loved you—never will.” I stumble one step backward and gape at him as tears keep snaking down my face. I’m shocked into silence. Beast smirks at me and shakes his head in disgust with his eyes still evaluating me from head to toe. I watch in utter shock as the man I fell for turns on his heel and begins walking away from me yet again. “Oh, and Ena,” he makes it a few feet away before he turns back to face me again snapping his fingers as though he’s forgotten to note something small but I know better. I can feel the knockout punch coming before he even launches it.

  The pure menace oozing off of him says it all. “… one more thing,” he says quietly taking steps toward me, his hands casually stuffed in his pockets, his soft lips curved into a cruel grin. “I want you to know that I was there when Kevin shot your dad in the back of the head. I watched it all and I provided the gun. He did it because your father had compromising information about High Knoll and many of our associates. He was a loose end and I tied it. Your dad’s blood is on these hands,” he says holding his palms out to cup my cheeks as though to wipe invisible blood on my face. I collapse against mom’s car batting his hands away from me. I cover my mouth with my hands and gasp for air that refuses to come. “And that’s what you get for fucking with me and High Knoll,” he sneers wickedly. “You’re gonna leave my city and you’re never comin’ back,” he warns darkly. Carrick ‘The Beast of Boston’ Ferguson, being the heartless monster he is doesn’t even flinch or react to my horror. He turns on his heel crunching snow under his shining oxfords right along with what remained of my heart.

  It wasn’t much anyway.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Ena

  Choosing criminal justice always seemed like a natural career path for me. I’d been around the bad guys long enough to know that I hated them and wanted them punished and then I had been adopted by one of the good guys so my admiration for the good guys only deepened from there.

  My new job here in Seattle sort of like a leg of law enforcement. That’s what I keep telling myself, anyway. It’s private security of course, and I spend the majority of my day behind a computer working out logistics and coordinating our team but it still makes me feel right at home warding off bad actors and safe guarding those who need it. I still struggle with the disappointment in myself following my brief time as a police officer but I am moving on and making my piece with it one day at a time. As for the rest of my disappointment? I wish I could say that I have moved on and all is well. I could, I suppose, but it would be a massive lie.

  Today feels like a real, tangible step in the right direction though because something great happened this morning when I woke up. I couldn’t recall precisely how long it’s been since I last laid eyes on Carrick Ferguson… in person. I mean, I know that now thanks to caffeine clearing away the fog of sleep but when I woke up it wasn’t right at the forefront of my brain, which is progress. Pathetically so. I wasn’t acutely aware of the ache his presence in my life had created or the void his absence manifested. I wasn’t buzzing with anger and pain at the things he said to me the last time we spoke. I wasn’t a steel ball bearing rolling around in the stone crater that his brand of destruction has left behind.

  I just woke up, hit the button on my alarm and rolled out of my bed with my brain primarily focused on starting the coffee pot, relieving my bladder, and picking something to wear to work today, in that exact order. That was it and it was a reassuring step toward moving on with my life. I still have nightmares where I see myself, out of body, kneeling at Carrick’s feet. His eyes are cold and his grin is lascivious. In my nightmare, I kneel before him pleading with him to spare my life but he just smiles and cocks the hammer of his revolver and I blink then open my eyes to see that it’s my father kneeling in front of Carrick, his eyes filled with terror, wordlessly pleading for mercy. Beast’s hateful glare finds me watching on and he smirks again as he pulls the trigger.

  That’s when I wake up. Every time. I jerk awake, hyperventilating and covered in a cold sweat. The cruel part of this cycle is that when I jerk awake I am immediately filled with dread at what he’d done to my father in addition to the heartache he’d left me with. The disgust I feel? That’s all mine. I am the one responsible for that bit. I slept with him. I enjoyed him. I craved him—still do and I fell in love with the man who arranged for my father’s death. I hate
myself these days. I loved Carrick fiercely and like I’d never loved another before. It has left me with a permanent sensation of dirty skin. I shower and scrub and scrub some more, but the dirt remains. A sinking feeling deep inside tells me that it probably always will. Carrick Ferguson isn’t the kind of man you can just wash off of you. He inks himself beneath your skin and it’s there forever.

  I step out of my building and open my umbrella, keenly aware that spring in the Pacific Northwest definitely does not necessarily mean sunshine and butterflies. It’s April. I’ve been here for two months but Boston and the turbulent last year feels like a lifetime ago. Tomorrow will make it one year exactly since Lan stormed out of the house and ended up enduring an event that will forever affect her. We haven’t spoken often but when we do speak it’s pleasant enough. I can feel her making the adjustment to her new life. She will never be the old Alana Perryman and that’s okay. I could never expect her to go back to the person she was before everything happened. As for me? I’m doing my adjusting too. I too will never be the same and I keep telling myself that’s okay. I’m thinner thanks to a loss of appetite and I’m moderately grumpy most days but no one who knew the sordid details of what happened back home would judge me for it. I’ve been put through the wringer and somehow I have emerged on the other side, albeit markedly worse for the wear.

  “Yay, Friday,” I mutter to myself as I make the short walk from my apartment to Dawkins Security Firm. I fully intend on lounging around in my pajamas for the entire weekend. This rain is unrelenting. Couple the onslaught of rain with the chilly temperatures and it spells out movie marathon in pajamas. It’s not like I have plans. I don’t have a boyfriend or the desire to find one. I don’t have any real friends yet and I’m okay with that too. Solitude has been healing. I walk at a comfortable pace down the sidewalk in the middle of downtown doing my best to avoid tangling my umbrella with anyone else’s. An older man holding a blue golf umbrella knocks into me causing the handle to slip away from my grasp. He apologizes sincerely and I smile tightly, nodding. I bend to pick up my umbrella and note the black SUV with blackout windows that I have seen on the street in front of my apartment for two days now is nearby, idling. The steady plume of condensation coming from the tailpipe lets me know that much. I snag my umbrella and choose to ignore it for a moment, keeping in mind that the goose bumps racing up my back have paranoid thoughts running rampant, even though my brain is saying that the SUV is probably nothing. There are likely a few thousand SUVs like that one milling around this city. Our security firm employs the use of an entire fleet of SUVs and cars that are very much the same. Clean, expensive, blackout tint. I get back to walking and distract myself by checking my emails on my cellphone. An email from my bank catches my attention.