AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Very well." I slip the key card into the hotel suite door, and float through it. The world doesn't feel like its axis are quite right. "You can go now."
"Call me if you need anything. Anything at all. We left a new cell on the bed—your sim card is in."
"That's very thoughtful." It's like I'm operating on backup power. Utterly drained.
The door closes behind me with a thud, and then I'm staring around at this pretentious, antique-style old suite with its four poster bed and gold thread tapestries. Who the fuck looked at this in the brochure and thought, hey, Aeron's enough of a dick that he'd love a place like this?
I don't want old furniture pretending to be more expensive than it is, or ridiculous sheet thread counts, or macademias from the mini bar. I just want to close my eyes and smell Leo. Or to float back further, to a time when I hadn't held a scalpel yet and things weren't simple, but they weren't utterly fucked, either.
After a brief, hot shower, I change into the clothes left for me on the bed—a pair of track pants and a tee—and I give Ash a call.
"Hey," says Ethan, his voice strained. "Um. How are things? You're out, yeah?"
"I'm out. Holed up in a hotel downtown." I pick at a cuticle near my thumb, watch the skin pull. A faint flash of crimson taunts me. "I didn't mean to leave Ash with you for so long. You'll be compensated."
"It's not a problem," he says kindly, because that's what Ethan and his fucking conscience always say.
"Is Ash around?"
"Of course. Yeah. One sec...Ash!" He wanders off. Footsteps, cartoons on the TV. Ash's familiar squeal.
He bursts on to the receiver in a rush of static. "Aeron! Where are you?"
"Hey champ."
"You missed pancakes."
"I did. Well, shi—I mean, crap. I mean...yeah, I missed them. I'm sorry, buddy." I rub at my damp hair. "Listen. I got real caught up with work, but I'll be home in a few days, okay?"
He sighs in that heavy, exasperated way kids do. "You promise?"
"Yeah. We'll catch a game together."
"Cool." He pauses.
I pick at my cuticle again.
"You still Batman?" he asks.
"What?" Then I remember—practically the last time I saw him. God, it feels like it's been a while. "I...not right now."
"Me either. I got tired of being Batman. His mask really sucks."
All masks suck. I'm so sick of them; I have so many to rip off.
A knock sounds at the door.
Leo. Thank fuck.
"Listen, champ. I gotta go now." I press my lips together. "My girl's here."
His tone goes up an octave with curiosity. "The one you're gonna marry?"
"Maybe. I think so."
"Awesome. You go do romance then."
"I will." I find myself smiling. "See you soon."
"Byeeeee!" he sings.
And then I'm dropping the phone, hurrying to the door, and scooping a bundle of smoke and honey and sweet, warm skin into my arms.
"Aeron," she mumbles against my mouth. "Aeron, I—"
"Jesus Christ, I missed you."
"I saw you this morning." She edges back, peering up at me through loose streaks of hair. She's all made up again. Fierce-looking black eyes, smudged and wild and pretty. Lips half-kissed with patterns of gloss. "I suppose a lot has happened since then, huh?"
I nod. I don't want to talk about Tuija.
I never want to talk about Tuija again.
"Don't just stand there," I say, ushering her toward the bed. "Come on in." Then I shuffle up behind her, my palms melting over her breasts, and she lets out a little sigh.
"I hope you brought what I asked," I whisper.
"I brought...something..."
"Huh." I turn her, press my forehead to hers. Inhale the spice and citrus of her perfume. "You miss me?"
She brushes her lips over mine. "I have to talk to you about something."
"You okay?" I grope around along the rise of her buttocks, feeling through her clothes for the dressing. "You taking care of yourself here?"
She winces as I catch the edge of the wound. "It's not that."
"Then what is it...? Is it about Rachel?"
"No. Not yet." She sniffs. Shrugs. I almost see a hint of a bitter smile. "I just...the Tuija thing. It's made me feel a little funny."
The image of pale, waxy mannequin Tuija fills my brain, and no matter how hard I bite my tongue, it won't leave. "Well...yeah."
"I didn't really know her. But she was close to you. I know she meant a lot. I'm so sorry, Aeron...I don't know what to do for you, I..."
"You don't have to do anything, baby. Let's not talk about it, okay?"
"But the other thing." She clears her throat. Collects herself. Pulls her hands from my waist and tucks them under her jacket. "When I was in her office this morning, I...I found some stuff."
"What stuff?"
Silence.
Leo smiles a little, but she trembles, and I search her face in confusion before I feel the nudge at my hip.
A cold nudge. A hard one.
Then there's a sound—or at least I think there's a sound—and I'm falling back, hitting the ugly fake tapestry carpet with a burning cheek and a strange, numb feeling, as if I don't have any legs. It's like diving underwater; the world spins and swims.
I'm vaguely aware of Leo's knees in my eye line. She's fallen beside me, making more sounds.
An image fades into view: the gun in her hand. Her finger still braced on the trigger. Leo lets off a harsh, hoarse wail, and I follow her gaze to my belly.
All red.
"I'm sorry. Oh God, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." She launches the gun somewhere behind me. It lands with a blunt thump.
The carpet beneath me grows wet and warm. I'm still swimming. I try to connect dots, to understand things—because I'm aware that I should be doing that—but half my brain won't work.
"I saw your fucking website plans for SilentWitn3ss," she weeps. Her tears shine like diamonds—they're beautiful and precious, and I can suddenly taste the salt of them on my tongue, as if it's where they should always land. "I know what you were planning. You promised me! This wasn't even in your fucking contract, you snake!"
Oh.
So...that's what this is about. It all feels very casual, like any other lover's spat.
Only this time, I'm the one who's bleeding. A lot of bleeding. A steady ooze of blood.
"I let you take enough already, but you are not going to fuck over my baby. Oh god, I've been so stupid." She's hysterical. I've seen her broken, coming, just plain coming apart...but these sounds feel coarse in my ears. "This is what I have to do," she tells herself. "This is what's left."
"Leo," I manage. I sound like a little girl.
"Shut up. I'm not talking to you!"
"Sweetheart...pl—please..."
She keeps flashing in and out of focus. "Shut up! I have...things. Things I need to say to you."
So do I, I want to say, but the words are already bleeding out of me. My legs tingle. The muscles contract.
She lets out another feral sob. "I don't have OCD. I never had OCD."
I take a dry, rasping breath. She's inches from me and yet, so far away.
"I needed something to get into therapy, to be with Rachel." She draws an arm across her wet face, feathering her makeup and dragging trails in her nervous sweat. "You really don't know who I am, do you?"
Another rasp.
No. But you're still Leo.
"About six years ago, you paid somebody a lot of money for an alibi," she croaks. "Your security guys came in one night and they needed something, just a little something, for a lot of money. They paid that money to my Mom, Aeron. They came in and told her that if she kept quiet and told a little white lie, our problems, they'd be over."
Oh fuck.
"When my parents divorced, my dad paid for stuff like school, but he left Mom pretty high and dry," she goes on. "I mean, things were okay...but they were going to get a whole lot worse for her when I turned eighteen. I get that, you know? I saw where she was coming from. Then I came home from school for the holidays, and she told me how we didn't have to worry anymore. And she told me why." She bleats out a laugh wrought with despair. "Didn't take a fucking Einstein to figure out that it was you. And that...that you were guilty, Aeron. I know what you did to—to your mother." More tears. "I always knew. Do you know what that's like? To be that age and realise that men with enough money can get away with anything? It's like losing more than innocence. It's like having the entire sodding rug pulled from under you, this knowledge that nobody is ever really safe. I had this—this knowledge—but I couldn't prove it, and I couldn't use it to put away this very bad man because I'd break the agreement. It was like this constant threat."
