Death of Cupids (The Blood of Cupids MC) (13 page)

Grace

“I just think it’s strange that I’ve known you for almost
six months now and I’ve never met your husband.”

Mark was a little drunk, but his point was valid.  Ryan
had been gone for six months.  I had all but given up hope that I would
ever see him again.

“Does he not want to meet me?  We’ve been going out
once or twice, sometimes three times a week for the past three months. 
Doesn’t he get jealous?”

I held my tongue, hoping his rant would veer in a new
direction.  Mark knew exactly what I wanted him to know about me.  I
had slipped up about my father and his MC ties, but that ended up being enough
of a conversation to last us for three months, sometimes three times a
week.  He was fascinated by my childhood, having been born to “normal
people”, as he put it.  He had new questions for me each time we saw each
other.  Luckily, none of those questions needed me to answer something
that might give him an idea of the last year of my life.

“Okay, that settles it.  After this drink, I’m going to
march up to your house and demand to meet your husband.”

“Mark, no.”  I quietly begged.

“Come on, Grace.  I want to meet him.  I want to
know who was good enough to steal you from your fascinating life and make you
settle down.  I want to know what type of a man can steal Grace’s heart.”

The pieces began to shatter.  My chest tightened and my
breathing became labored.  My eyes welled up, and my face scrunched.

“Grace?  Are you okay?  Grace?”  He was
instantly sober and by my side, checking my pulse.

“Stop.”  I batted him away.  “Just stop.”

He looked into my eyes, and it was as if he knew.  It
was as if he could see everything I saw, think everything I thought. 

“When did he leave?”

“He didn’t leave.  But he never came back.”

“The night I came into the hospital… that was the last time
I saw him.  But…” It was too hard to say out loud.  “I don’t… I
don’t…”

“It’s okay.”  He was rubbing his hand up and down my
back.

“I think… I think they might have killed him.”

Mark stopped, facing me toward him.  “Who?”

I shook my head.  I couldn’t talk about it. 
“Please, don’t… don’t make me.”

I collapsed into his chest as he ran his fingers through my
hair.  The waiter probably came by five times to ask if I was all
right.  Mark simply shooed them away and allowed me to cry.

He walked me home that night and kissed my forehead. 
“If you need anything, I’m here.”

I needed something the next day, and the next.  We
spent every day of the following two weeks together.  I didn’t tell him
about Ryan or Sean or Aunt Kathryn or Anne Marie Carter, and he didn’t
ask. 

“Thank you, Mark, for everything.”

“You say that as if I don’t get pleasure being with you.”

“Ha.”  I laughed.  “It can’t be that much fun
hanging out with a woman who is nine months pregnant.”

“You’d be surprised.”  He winked.

We took the few steps up to my building.  “Do you need
me to walk you all the way up?”  He sincerely asked.

“Neh, I’m fine.  I’ve gotten pretty good at waddling up
these steps.”

“Okay then.”  He squeezed my hand before letting
go.  “Goodnight Grace.”

“Goodnight Mark.”

But we didn’t walk away.  I didn’t go upstairs, and he
didn’t cross the street.  We just stared at each other, until one of us,
I’m not sure which, stepped in.

It was soft and slow at first, as if we were testing the
waters.  He tasted like red wine, a taste I hadn’t realized I
missed.  His tongue tentatively found mine, asking for permission to push
deeper.  I opened my mouth, accepting his request.  It felt good to
be kissed, to be wanted.  He grabbed my hair in his fist and tightened,
bringing my face even closer to his.  It was something Ryan would’ve done,
something I would’ve loved, but it didn’t feel the same, it didn’t feel
right.  I pulled away, shaking my head in his face.

“I’m sorry.  I can’t.  I just can’t.”

He pushed my hair from my face.  “Grace, yes you
can.”  He leaned in closer, pressing me up against the door.  I felt
trapped.  His hands moved up my hips.

“Please, Mark, no.”

“Okay.  Okay.”  He repeated, but didn’t stop his
fingers from grazing my breasts.

“Mark.”  I took his face in my hands.  I wanted to
tell him he was drunk.  I wanted to tell him he would be angry with
himself when he sobered up.  I wanted to tell him something, anything, but
I couldn’t think of a single word. 

Across the street, at the bar where we met, Ryan was sitting
in the window, holding a pint glass, staring at me. 

To our child,

It occurred to me today that I might never meet you, I
might never hold you, I might never be given the opportunity to tell you that I
love you.  It was a decision I made to keep you safe, but now, it doesn’t
seem fair.  My mother left when I was six years old.  She never gave
me a reason, just packed up and moved out.  For that, I’ve resented her my
entire life.  Will you feel the same toward me?  Will you never know
why I had to leave?

And what will your mother tell you about me?  Will
she hide the full truth to preserve my memory?  Or will she refuse to even
tell you my name because of the pain she will forever feel?

I write this letter not knowing if you’ll ever read it,
if I’ll even send it.  I more write it for me.  I write this letter
to remind myself of why I’ve chosen the path I am currently on, why I threw
myself back into a life that I vowed to leave.  It’s for you; it’s all for
you.  And that I will be sure to tell myself today, tomorrow, and past the
light.

Your father

Ryan

Days flew by.  I stopped by the townhouse for breakfast
each morning.  I’d walk into the house, and my mother would be in the
kitchen, poaching eggs or flipping pancakes.  Sean would be seated at the
table making some joke about a small story or headline in the daily
newspaper.  Sarah and Joseph would run downstairs and chug a glass of
orange juice before waving goodbye and heading off to school.

“Bye!”

“See you later!”

Door slam.

“Those kids.”

“You’d think they’d learn to start waking up earlier.”

“Why do I even make breakfast anymore?”

“For the men, of course.”  Sean would give me a wink as
I pulled on the wooden chair from the table and took a seat.

Then we’d joke about the kids together and see just how long
we could distract my mother from her daily chores.  We’d quietly laugh
every time she left the sink to comment on one of our jests.  It became
ritual.  It became fun. 

Weeks piled on.  Sean insisted that I start spending
the evenings at the house too.  I had no one waiting at home, so why not
spend the time with family… with
my
family?  He cooked dinner, most
everything on the grill.  Mom would tell us about the flowers she planted,
the books she read, and the crazy news she heard on the local television
station.  Sarah and Joseph would complain about their history teacher,
argue over a topic in their economics class, or gossip about the “it” couple.

“They actually did a story on the evolution of cup
holders.  Cup holders.  A whole story.  Six minutes.  It
was so boring.”

“Why did you watch it then?”

“It was on.”

It was always her reason.

“Did you see Baily and Jason making out in the middle of the
cafeteria?”

“She’s not even hot.”

“I didn’t ask you if she was hot.”

“Well, you should have.”

I knew everything that had happened daily in each of their
lives.  I brought up names I had heard from them, asking how so-and-so was
doing just so I could have more of a reason to hold a longer
conversation.  But I didn’t need a reason.  I was interested in their
lives, and they were interested in mine.

Months spiraled through.  Business was booming. 
Sean was the president, I the vice, and Danny the treasurer.  I was saving
the sergeant in arms position for Rocky, as he had the extensive firearms
knowledge from being a
Cupid
for so many years.  We had eighteen
patched-in members and two prospects.  Our clubhouse had all the
necessities, including a bar, kitchen, pool table, and seven bedrooms in case
anyone needed a place to crash.  I ended up spending most nights there,
combing through the books, finding places where we could save time, energy, and
most importantly, make more money.  It was always about the money. 
As soon as I began pulling in five large a week, I started feeling the power of
greed.  I knew there was a way to double my income, and I would try
practically anything.  After I had exhausted all my regular contacts, I
decided to test the limits of my new family.   
  

“Hey Joseph, talk to me for a sec.”

“What’s up, Ryan?”

“Tell me about your school.”

“Private, probably two fifty in each grade, so a thousand in
all.  Mostly rich kids, a handful on scholarship.”

“Drugs?”

“Pretty available, if you know where to look.”

“Interest?”

“Taking?”

“No.”

“In dealing?”

“Yes.”

“With a cut?”

“Of course.”

“Then, yes.”

Within three days of their new venture, Sarah and Joseph had
to begin taking pre-orders because they couldn’t hold the product long
enough.  Neighboring school kids snuck over during breaks, first just a
few, then a handful, and then it became suspicious.  We set up a sort of
pyramid scheme: me at the top, then my siblings (it was still so weird to say
siblings
),
and then two representatives at each school with enough interest.  My
income doubled.  And then it tripled.  And then I stopped keeping
track.  As I said, business was booming.

“Tomorrow.”

“What’s tomorrow?”

“We take over the
Cupids.
”

“Just like that?”

“You’re going to set up a meeting with Rocky. 
Hopefully it’s amicable, but we should be ready for anything.”

I pulled out my phone, and searched through my contacts
until I reached his name.  The phone rang and I set it on speaker.  I
held my finger to my lips, signaling for Sean to keep his mouth shut.

“You got Rocky.”

“Rock, it’s Ryan.  It’s a new number.”

“As I live and breath, I thought you disappeared on me.”
“Hey Rock,” I flakily laughed. “Sorry, man, just been busy.”

“Is Grace not letting you out of the house?”

It stung.  It stung harder than I thought it
would.  “Ha.  Yah, something like that.”

“I’ve heard rumors.”

“What sort of rumors?”

“The kind that make no sense to me… about you… and Sean?”

“I’ll clear all that up for you soon enough.”

“I guess that’s all I can ask, huh?  Well, then to what
do I owe the pleasure?”

“Wanted to see if you were up for a cup of coffee in the
morning.  I wanted to run something by you.”

“Absolutely.  You know I’d love to hear anything you
have to say.”

“Great.  Ten?  The place around the corner from my
old apartment.”

“I’ll be there.”

As I hung up, I smiled at Sean who cocked his head, asking
me to finish my thought.

“Take the guys into the bunker under the clubhouse.  If
Rocky agrees, I’ll bring him back to the club.  If not, you have full
reign for a sneak attack.”

“Time?”

“Give me until eleven.”

“I like where your head is at.  Really good work, Son.”

He patted me on the back as he walked out of the room. 
He called me “Son”, and I didn’t hate it.

I stayed in the office for a while with my feet up on the
desk, flipping my phone in my hand.  There was really nothing stopping us
from success; everything was going swimmingly.  Tomorrow, we’d either be
twice as strong, or we’d take out the competition.  After only a few
months from conception of our little organized crime family, we were ready to
wage a war with our competitors.  I smiled at the thought, first smugly,
and then happily.  I allowed my smile to grow until I was reminded by a
fleeting thought that the competitors I spoke of so transiently, were my
friends.  My head shook involuntarily as I felt a chill curl up my
spine.  I had just set up a plan that could possibly kill them all, the
people I had for so long considered family, and I had done it so easily. 
How did that happen?  When did this apathetic view of my surroundings take
over?  I guess I had been at some sort of turning point in my life, the
point where I was meant to decide whether to fight for the light or the
dark.  Grace kept me in the light.  With her, I only saw a
future.  Without her, I was becoming someone I no longer recognized.

And as I thought about it, I was okay with that
person.  I could live with being the person who lacked morality, who cared
for no one, who saw people as only a means for further gain.

But was it what I wanted, what I yearned for?  Was
success my deepest desire, or had I buried that away to guard my heart?

I needed to see her, just see her one more time.  I
needed to see if there was any light left within me, or if the power had taken
over.

I left the clubhouse.  I hopped on my bike.  I
sped to Old City.  I sat in the window of the bar where we first
met.  I waited for her.  I watched her round the corner.  I
watched her walk up to her apartment building.  I watched her kiss another
man.

The darkness felt stronger than ever, but it was anything
but apathy.