Fix It for Us (23 page)

The Brandons
are both on the line.  They agree to give me the money and will bring it to me on Friday.  They promise not to tell Davis, but are not happy about it.  I begin to thank them profusely when Mrs. Brandon cuts me off, “Biz, we are giving you this money on ONE condition… ”

I agree to it.

***

Friday.  It’s here. 

The money my parents spent to send me to school to study acting?  It has totally paid off this week.  I have been needy, charming, and completely fraudulent with Davis.  Reassuring myself that the end will justify the means is the only way I’ve succeeded.  Now, I just have to get through this evening, pay Neil the money and we’ll be free.  At least free of Neil and Randall, if not the buried memories.

Davis has to go
into Weldon today.  He’s missed quite a few classes babysitting me and he has a lighting design due at a production meeting.  Sadly, I am relieved as I send him out the door with a kiss, telling him I am fine.  A few hours alone, before the Brandons arrive.  A few hours when I don’t have to actively lie to anyone, but myself.  A few hours to figure out an alibi to explain my absence tonight.   I’m beginning to get edgy.  It’s 3 o’clock and the Brandons haven’t arrived yet.  I wish they’d get here.  I’m meeting Neil sometime tonight. I wish Neil would call so I can settle on how I am going to pull this off without Davis knowing about it. 

Neil finally calls at 3:
30.  He wants us to meet at 7:10 tonight under the Kingshighway viaduct bridge, at the recently closed skatepark.  I know the place he’s talking about.  A group of skaters developed a skatepark under a vehicle bridge in the mostly Italian neighborhood known as The Hill.  It was recently closed by the police for investigation after a skating accident.  When I asked about the very specific meeting time, Neil clarified.  7:10 is when the baseball game begins.  This is a baseball town.  Everyone will either be at the game or in front of a screen somewhere to watch it.  The spot is secluded.  Only about two, two and a half miles away.  I can easily walk to it from the condo.

Even before the Brandons arrive, I’ve got it all figured out.  I’ll have them tell Davis I went to see Jules and I’l
l meet up with them at the game after I give Neil the money.  That should work.

Jame
s and Meredith Brandon arrive about an hour after I get off the phone with Neil.  It is possibly the most awkward I have felt, ever, in my entire life.  James is brought up by the nurse that assists him.  James greets me kindly, but with obvious concern.  Mrs. Brandon…  Meredith… is frosty.  I don’t know why I expected anything else.  After they are settled into the guest room, we meet in the family room.

“I want to say, straight out, I am not comfortable with this whole business, Biz.
  We’re doing this because we trust you and you have agreed to the condition.”  Meredith Brandon says, her tone belying her words.

“I, I know this is un-unusu
al, Mrs. Brandon,” I stutter, my mouth suddenly dry.  “I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t very important.  I wish I could tell you more.  I promise I will pay you back, every cent.”

Mrs. Brandon takes a large manila envelope, the kind used for interoffice mail, out of her black crocodile Birkin bag.  I can’t help thinking how iron
ic it is that her purse cost way more money than she’s holding in her hand, and laugh a bit internally.  She places the envelope on the coffee table.  “There,” is all she says.

Sheepishly, I look up at Mrs. Brandon and then over at James Brandon.  He up-nods toward the envelope and tells me, “Open it up, Biz.”  I do as he says.   “It’s amazing how small $10,000 can be when it is in larger bills.”  He’s right.  It f
it in Mrs. Brandon’s purse.  I’m relieved.  Even with my $3,000 added to it, I won’t look suspicious walking around with it.  It strikes me, I have to walk, in the city, with $13,000 on me.  This is becoming more and more unbearable.  I just want to do it and get it over with.  I check the time on my watch.  It’s a little after 5 o’clock.  I want to be gone when Davis gets back and I need some time to get ready and get to the skatepark.  I want to arrive before Neil.

S
crambling and popping up from the sofa, I sputter out, “I need to go get ready for the game.  I was thinking I could go with Jules, take care of what I need to with the money and then meet all of you at Busch stadium.  I can take the Metrolink down.  Could you tell Davis when he gets home?  I will be right there, probably after they throw out the first pitch.”  

They both nod their heads in agreement and Mr. Brandon says hesitantly, “Sure, Biz.” 

I clutch the envelope full of money to my chest and back away from the Brandons.  I reach back for the French doors to the bedroom, turn the handle and quickly exit.  I stop myself from thinking about what I am doing and just act.  It takes me very little time to shove the money I got from Davis’ parents, along with my $3000 into my black crossbody bag.  It looks a little fuller than usual, but not full to a point where anyone would think it strange.  Just a chick with lots of stuff in her purse.  It’s still warm for late September, so I throw on a pair of white capris, a red t-shirt and my cadet cap with the blinged out STL logo on it.  It’s perfect.  I look like an enthusiastic baseball fan, not a scared blackmail victim.  My own deceit is gnawing at me and I’m completely surprised I haven’t had multiple panic attacks.  I think the only thing keeping them at bay is my determination to get Neil out of my life.  Putting some cash, my ATM card, driver’s license and phone in my back pocket, I look at myself one last time in the mirror over the dresser.  I shake my head and push my lips together in a line. 

“You can do this.”  I say softly, sadly and with disappointment.  It’s not the way I’d usually say it to calm my
self.  It’s in a resigned, last-resort sort of way. 

With that, I push the French doors from the bedroom open and as cheerily as possible announce to James and Meredith, “I’m going.  Jules is downstairs waiting.  See you at the game.”  I have a fake smile plastered on and give only the briefest of eye contact.  I’m almost ce
rtain I have broken the bedroom-to-door land speed record. 

As I close the door, I hear Meredith Brandon ask
, to no one, really, “What was that?”

I wonder myself.

***

Jules i
sn’t downstairs waiting.  Since I’m lying, I thought I’d go all out.  The Brandons will never know the difference.  I got away before Davis got home.  If I can dodge his calls and texts for a bit longer, I can just show up at the game like nothing happened. 

Walking the couple of
miles to the skatepark is almost settling.  I do have to walk along a major thoroughfare, over two viaducts, one over a highway and the other over railroad tracks, before I see the one with the skatepark beneath it.  It’s a strange configuration.  The bridge used to go over a two-lane city street.  When the city rerouted the street, it became a dead end, right under the bridge, and then the skatepark just sort of happened.  A grassroots project resulted in a really nice venue for skaters that had been kicked out of other places.  I know a bit about it because I had been thinking it would make for a good story on Happening in the STL.

As I approach, it seems deserted.  There are no cars parked in
the vicinity.  Then I catch a “swooshing” and “clicking” pattern of noise, echoing off the concrete of the bridge as I move under it.  Two skaters freeze, after stopping and flipping their boards up into their hands, and stare at me.  We exchange no words.  They simply turn away from me, throw their boards on the ground and leave the area, with more of the “swoosh” sound.  I’m surprised.  I always think of skaters as rebels, but they vacated the minute they saw me.  The park
is
temporarily closed.  Maybe they thought I’d call the police.

My phone vibrates in my pocket.  I pull it out.  It’s Davis.

Where are you?

I ignore it and another text pops up.

I called Jules.  You aren’t with her.  Where are you?  I’m worried.

I ignore it, too and put the phone away.

A deep voice says  “Hello, Biz”.  It echoes and sounds menacing, causing me to jump.  I look up to see… Neil.

I don’t know why I’
m surprised.  I am here to meet him.  He just “appeared” while my attention was elsewhere, and so quietly.  After I calm myself a bit, I look more closely.  Being arrested hasn’t seemed to cause him any distress.  He looks like, well, Neil.  Tall, dark, empirically handsome.  Cool.  Distant.  No one could deny he appears to be everything a girl could want.  But he isn’t.  He’s bad, maybe even a sociopath, if everything being reported is true.  My own experience with him would indicate that.

I do everything in my power to
appear unfazed. “Hello, Neil.” I sound… strong… not scared.  I continue, “I have the money. 13 thousand, just like we talked about.”  I hold up the crossbody bag full of cash.  I’m not giving it to him until I have the video.  “So where is the video?”

Neil
approaches me slowly.  He shakes his head and chuckles, a phony, pushed laugh, “Oh, Biz, still so naïve.  There is no video.  I mean there
is
, but I don’t have it.  Randall is a complete freak about that video.  He won’t even show it to me.  I have no idea where it is or what he did with you.  God knows I’d love to.”  His cold, taunting words are tearing at me.  I feel my throat trying to close, as I gulp and swallow frantically.  Unable to move, I just stand there and take it.  My vision is clouding with the tears welling up in my eyes.  I’m dizzy.  The ground beneath me seems to be spinning. 

Then, in a flash, it all changes to intense anger and it
’s as if all the blood in my body is rushing to my head and heart.  Rage and fire spew out of me as I scream at Neil, “What the fuck are you saying?  You don’t have the video?  I did all this for nothing?”

Neil is directly in front of me now.
His face, emotionless as he smoothly coos back at me, “Now, now, not for nothing, darlin’… ” He snatches the bag off my body, ripping the strap and causing me to lurch up against him. “Mmm, this is familiar… ” Neil is grabbing my shoulders and pulling me toward him.  His face is so close.  I twist my head from one side to the other trying to avoid his face, his lips.  “Too bad, I can’t stay around and ‘enjoy’ you… ” he says, pulling me up roughly, kissing and then licking at my closed mouth with his tongue.  I keep my lips closed as tightly, as I can, ineffective vocal protests behind them. “… but, I need to take this money and run.  Three grand to get to Mexico and just enough more to not have to make a customs claim… ”  What?  What’s Neil saying?  He’s jumping bail?  Oh, my God… I’m in so much trouble.  I’m assisting a fugitive.

I open my mouth to say, “No,” and
make a grab for my purse, when Neil drops suddenly to his knees in front of me, screaming in pain.  I back away and look down at him.  He is now rocking on his hands and knees, a torrent of profanity filling the air around him. I look up to see what caused this. 

Where Neil once stood is Randall
, with his head cocked, sarcastically curling his lips at me. He’s wearing a plaid shirt with the arms cut off, baggy cargo shorts and tan work boots.  He looks in as need of a shower as I remember.  He has a baseball bat slung over both shoulders, behind his neck.  His arms draped over it.  Randall smarmily intones, “Hey, Bizzy…hah! Bizzy, like ‘busy,’ like ‘I love getting busy.’  You sure
did
love getting … Biz-zy with me.” Randall’s insinuation makes me vomit into my mouth.  I swallow the bilious taste.

Neil pushes off his hands into a kneel, rubbing the backs of legs.  “Fuck! Randall, what the fuck are you doing?”

“Shut up, Neil!”  Randall growls at his brother and without warning swings the bat off his shoulder and cracks Neil on the side of his head with it.    All the air seems to empty from Neil’s body with a “woof” and he crumples sideways in front of me.  Waves of nausea brought on by fear, real fear, overtake me.  The shaking begins. Randall snickers and steps over Neil’s unconscious body. “Asshole.  Mom always said he didn’t know how to keep his mouth shut.  He’s gonna have one big ass headache when he finally wakes up.” 

Randall is circling me, twirling the bat in his hand in a threatening way.  He stops, comes up behind me and sniffs at my hair by my ear. “You like the bat, Biz?  I was going for a baseball theme.
  You get it?  With the big game tonight and everything” he snickers.  “You, Biz-zy, look as good as the last time I saw you.  Mmmm.  Maybe a few more clothes, but still, good.”

I can’t think of anything else to do, so I beg. 
I don’t scream.  I don’t cry.  I’m paralyzed on the spot, so I say hoarsely, “What do you want, Randall?  The money? Take it.”

Randall laughs again, “Oh, I fully intend to take the money, Biz,” then he commands me, “Pick up the purse and hand it to me.”

I bend to retrieve the purse, laying on the ground in front of Neil.  Evidently, I don’t move quickly enough for Randall, because he grabs my right arm from behind and wrenches me back toward him, pulling it out of my hand.  I hear a
SNAP
!  A white, hot pain shoots up my arm to my neck and then to the base of my skull.  I scream louder than I ever have in my life as I’m thrust backward against Randall’s chest.  Surely, someone will hear me.  I will my arm to move out of Randall’s grip, but it is unresponsive and just hangs at my side.  I reach up to support it with my left hand.  Randall takes no notice, just continues to talk.  “My asshole brother was going to jump bail and leave me to take the fall after he ratted me out.  Well, when he wakes up won’t he be surprised that I took the money and left town… ” Randall, buries his nose between my neck and shoulder and inhales deeply, then completes his thought, “with YOU.”