AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He’s chastened enough by having one of them die that he reluctantly agrees. Within the hour, he’s showered, shaved, packed up his things and left me alone in the penthouse.
I wish I could avoid even dealing with him again, but I can’t.
I have a score to settle…
Three days passbefore the medical examiner releases his ruling that Sherri died accidentally due to a combination of sleeping pills, alcohol, cannabis and pain medication, which she had not been prescribed and so was using illegally. Alexi gave his statement, but they had nothing on him to charge him with providing her with the drugs, so that was that, as far as police were concerned. Since Sherri was over twenty-one, she was considered an adult and responsible for her own actions. If she took drugs, it wasn’t anyone’s fault but her own.
Life returns to normal, the parties at the clubs and the all-night poker games continue.
I read Sherri’s obituary in the local paper and decide to stop by the cemetery for the graveside service. I feel bad that the poor girl died at my apartment. Bad enough that I don’t go up and give my condolences, but I make a generous anonymousdonation to the family’s Go-Fund-Me account to help cover funeral expenses. It’s the very least I can do.
I stand off to the side of the cemetery at the edge of the section where Sherri is being buried, trying to look inconspicuous. When the ceremony is over, after everyone pays their respects and leaves the graveside, I walk over and place my bouquet onto the grave, feeling very bad that I had a part to play in her death, even though I bore no responsibility. I still feel as if I should have done something to dissuade Sherri from hanging around with Alexi.
It’s when I turn back to go to my waiting limo that Sherri’s relative comes running after me.
She's in her fifties, and at first, I think it’s the mother, but later, it’s the aunt. She chases after me, and when I realize she's calling to me, I stop.
She runs at me, her fists balled like she's going to strike me. “Hey, hey,” I say and hold my hands out to stop her.
“You — you bastard! It’s your fault. It’s your fault!”
She tries to pummel me, but I easily stop her, until finally, I have her turned around, my arms restraining her.
“Let go of me!” she screams.
“I will, as soon as you quiet down.”
A group of her relatives arrive and one of the men, an older man in his fifties with a bald head and dark rimmed glasses comes over, his arms outstretched.
“Come to me, Dianna,” he says. “There’s nothing to be gained from this.”
I let go of her and she goes to him, but before they leave, she turns back. “You’ll pay for this.”
I shake my head, wondering what she thinks — did she really think I’m Sherri’s boyfriend and was responsible for her death?
The man glances at me. “Sorry. She’s upset, as you can imagine.”
“I understand,” I say and adjust my jacket, which came undone.
“I hope you won’t press charges,” he adds. “She’s really having a hard time dealing with this.”
“Of course not,” I say, and he seems appeased. They turn and walk away, back to the group of relatives who stand watching. I check them out and see one woman who looks somewhat familiar. A beauty with long dark black hair and hazel eyes. Was she at the bar with Sherri that first night? I can’t recall perfectly, but I remember thinking that Sherri’s friend was beautiful.
I sigh and leave, returning to the limo. I realize that it was a mistake to come to the ceremony, but I wanted to pay my respects. I feel bad that Sherri died on my watch, and while I had nothing to do with her death, she was in my residence at the time.
I get into the limo and am glad that it’s over.
“Where to, Mr. O'Connor?”
I shake my head, unsure of what I want to do. I feel like I needed a stiff drink, but that would do no good.
“Take me to the office.”
We drive off, leaving the cemetery behind. I wouldn’t have considered pressing charges against the woman. She was distraught and blamed me, but the blows she managed to connect barely registered, I was in such shock from the abruptness of the attack.
Later that night, when I return to the penthouse and have a shower, washing away the day’s stress, I notice a bruise on my collarbone where she managed to connect a fist. It’s close to the tattoo that covers my shoulder, which goes down my bicep and to my wrist. The blue-red bruise almost blends in with the dark blue tribal tattoo of a dragon — the emblem of my unit — that I had done over my battle scar — a long dark red scar from a roadside bomb that went off, killing one of my brothers in arms,and almost killing me. I was lucky, and managed to save several members of my unit, despite my injury, although I lost several of my closest friends that day.
I can’t help but think it’s fitting that the bruise and tattoo and scar blend together. I learned a lot about human nature in war, and I toughened myself, developed a resolve that served me well. It enabled me to do a lot of very hard things while I was in the service — things that most decent people could never do.
