Pull (Push #2) (12 page)

“Do it,” I say into her ear. Then I slide my hands down over her breasts and begin to twist them between my fingers. A second later, her pelvis rolls forward, hard against her own fingers, and my hips dig into her sharply. I hear a rough groan, and her body finds release, sinking back into me, rolling over the edge. I push forward one last time, and exhale a stuttered breath on the back of her neck. When we still, I reach down over her hip, resting my palm on the side of her thigh.

Now I need to sleep.

                            ---------------------------------------------------------------

When I wake up, Emma’s gone, and the clock tells me it’s one in the afternoon. I check my voicemail for the list of rotten jobs Carl has for me today and then head up to my place for a shower. When I’m ready to leave, I have to cab it back over to Carson Street to pick up my car. I’m sitting in the back of the taxi when I feel my phone vibrate. I’m hoping for Emma, but instead, it’s Matt.

Thanks for the ride.

At least he remembered how he got home.

Just returning the favor.

Sorry I’m such a sissy when I drink.

No problem. U make it to work this morning?

Barely.

Been there myself once or twice.

Sorry I was talking shit.

Also not a problem.

U know where my wallet went?

Didn’t see it on u. Sorry.

Aww man.

Hope it turns up.

Thanks. Emma said u won big last night.

Did she, now?

Said something about u waking her up this morning to tell her.

Very funny, Emma. Very funny.

Must have been a dream.

She’s all bubbly and shit today—must have been a hell of a dream.

Sounds like it.

I think she’s expecting an expensive gift or something.

What makes u say that?

’Cause she said u were gonna surprise her with something better than whatever u gave her this morning.

What a clever little thing you are, Emma Searfoss.

There IS nothing better than what I gave her this morning.

What did u give her? U guys aren’t engaged or something, are u?

No. Nothing like that. I’ll let her tell u what I gave her. Go ask her. I gotta go.

Poor Matt. He’s a pawn in Emma’s silly game, and he doesn’t even know it. Let’s see what she comes up with.

Okay. Thanks again.

Welcome.

I put my phone back into my pocket just as the cab driver pulls into the Carson Street lot. I pay him in cash and walk to my car. There, leaning on the hood, is Nikki. Nikki-fucking-Jones has her filthy, rancid ass propped up against my spotless paintjob. Her face is still a wreck, but at least she’s cleaned herself up a little. The caked-on vomit and blood are gone, and her hair’s been washed. When I get close enough, I see the hollowness in her eyes. Her cheeks are sunken, and it’s clear that she’s in need of a fix. I’m sure Ray cut her off because of her bullshit.

“He was gonna kill me, you know,” she says to me when I’m close enough to hear.

“Ray wasn’t gonna kill you, Nikki. You’re his best girl. He was just trying to scare you.”

“I’m not talkin’ about Ray-Ray, sweetheart. I’m talking about Franklin,” she says with her eyes on the pavement. I’ve never seen her look embarrassed before.

“You think?”

“I don’t think, sugar, I know. I
know
he was gonna kill me. He was madder than a beauty queen caught in a piss storm 'cause I sucked up all his meth and drank up all his bourbon. I thought I’d be outta there before he got home. But I just got so fucked-up, honey. So fucked up. I couldn’t barely walk, and when he came in and saw what I’d done, he laid into me like I stole the goddamned crown jewels right outta his living room.” She takes a drag from her cigarette, and I notice that her hand is shaking. I know what Brad and Cameron did for her on Monday night, and I know that Franklin can’t be happy about it.

“Me and Franklin, we been together for eight years now, cookie, and he never done nothin’ like that to me before. I mean, he hit me lots of times but nothin’ like that.” She takes another drag of her cigarette and turns her head from side to side as she talks. “But your boys, they came and they kept Franklin from killin’ me. I know you sent those boys to come and get me on account of my lying to Ray about you threatening me, and you were probably planning on beatin’ me yourself, but they saved me. You and your boys saved my life. And that big boy—the handsome one—he took some of Franklin’s punches, too.”

That would explain why Brad’s face is swollen, even though he claims he only got scratched by Nikki. Leave it to Brad to try and cover up the fact that he got pummeled by a drugged-up fifty-year-old.

“I wasn’t going to beat you. I don’t beat women. Not even ones who mock my girl and tell lies that threaten to ruin everything I’ve worked for. I have other ways of encouraging someone to tell the truth. Don’t I?”

“Yeah, sugar-pie, you do.” She looks off in the distance, her half-closed eyes filled with a snowy haze. “You’re not the man I thought you were. All you boys gonna get into heaven someday for what you did, and them little girl angels up there, they gonna take good care of you, sweetheart. Just like you’re takin’ care of me. I’m leaving today. I’m goin’ to my sister’s place in Alabama. I’m gonna do just what you said and get the hell outta here. You won’t see me again.”

I’m glad she knows how to listen. I need her out of this town because I think Ricky may have told her things he shouldn’t have, and Emma sure as hell doesn’t need another scar ripped open if we ever run into Nikki again and she decides to open her fucking mouth about the whole thing. Plus, by leaving, she might just be handing me a huge opportunity to get Emma out of that gold-toothed bastard’s sights. Nikki’s a loose cannon, and I need her gone. I only hired her to keep Ricky quiet while I got his blackmail money together. I wanted him to be occupied with screwing her instead of with stalking Emma. Instead, Nikki ended up being his punching bag and his confidante. I don’t know what he told her, but whatever it is, it isn’t worth the chance. They were together for less than twenty-four hours, but it was more than enough for Nikki. When Ricky got his money and left, she wanted to be paid double. I told her to suck it up; double wasn’t what we agreed on. I don’t blame her for wanting revenge. Like I said, I feel bad.

“This is a good decision, you know,” I say to Nikki as she stands up straight and tidies her blouse. “And don’t worry. I’ll take care of Ray and Franklin. I won’t let either one of them find out where you are.”

“Shit, honey. You don’t have to concern yourself one goddamn bit with Franklin. He ain’t gonna come lookin’ for me. He’s been tryin’ to find a way outta us for six years. He’ll be happy he don’t hafta share with me no more. Ray’s the one I worry about, 'cause if he finds out you gave me money to get outta here, he’s gonna flip his shit.”

“He won’t find out.”

She doesn’t look convinced. But I am.

“I hope you’re right, ’cause he’ll do some serious damage if he does. And you better watch your ginger girl, too, cause Ray’s as evil as the Lord ever made ’em.” She pauses for a second to take a deep breath before continuing, “And just so you know, I did somethin’ nice for you too, on account of you givin’ me the money to get outta here. I didn’t tell Ray nothin’ about your girl being that man’s little sister. You know who I’m talkin’ about. That man you paid me to
entertain
? The one that treated me like a rag doll and beat me down? I know she’s his little sister ’cause, after he kicked the shit outta me, that cocksucker made me sit outside with him while he watched her through a pair of them binocular things. He’s obsessed with his own sister, and that ain’t right. ’Cause that kinda shit don’t ever go away, you know what I’m sayin’? Now, I don’t know what you and that man were up to when he was here, but I’ll tell you that Ray was not happy when he saw what that man did to my face, so I got me a feelin’ that if he ever found out about your ginger girl and that man bein’ kin, he’d have a problem with that.”

Jesus Fucking Christ. This woman cannot get out of town fast enough.

“You can’t blame me for lyin’ to Ray about what happened at the liquor store,” she continues. “You can’t. ’Cause guys like your girl’s brother are hard to forget, and you’re the only one I had to take it out on. But we’re even now for sure, ain’t we?”

I don’t say a word.

“I gotta get goin’. My bus leaves at three.” She turns to walk away. My mind is reeling. It’s screaming at me, telling me I have to plan. I have to reevaluate and control. And above all, I have to protect Emma.

Nikki’s stilettos sink into the grass at the asphalt’s edge as she walks toward the bus station. The messenger bag over her shoulder bounces against her hip. That bag is probably filled with everything she owns. The idea of a person’s entire life fitting into a single bag is both sad and enlightening. Sad because she’s got nothing of substance to call her own; enlightening because she’s proof that a person needs so little to keep on existing.

Just before she turns the corner, Nikki shouts a quick apology for losing it in the hallway on Carson Street. When Brad called me late on Monday night to tell me they had her, she was completely fucked up from Franklin’s fists. And his liquor and meth. I told Brad to take her to the game office and let her sleep it off. She spewed her poison down the hallway on her way back out yesterday afternoon. As she was walking through her own putrid vomit, I was shoving money into her pocket and ordering her to go back to Ray and tell him she lied. Tell him I did not threaten her. Tell him she’s nothing more than a lying bitch. And then I told her to get the hell out of town as fast as she can. Once again…I’m glad she knows how to listen.

When Nikki turns the corner, I get in the car and start the engine. I have work to do.

Just as I’m about to put the car into gear, my phone vibrates again. This time it’s Emma.

Hi.

This ought to be good.

Hi back.

It was my pleasure to tell Matt what u gave me this morning.

Oh yeah?

Yes, sir.

And what did u tell him?

That u came home from poker and woke me up wearing a full Batman costume.

WTF?? U did not.

I did. Then I told him u said u wanted to be my superhero. And it was very sweet.

Great. Now Poindexter is picturing me in black leather tights.

I’m sure he appreciated the visual.

He said he thought u would’ve gone with Daredevil.

U had an entire conversation about it?

It was great. I told him u did tricks with your utility belt.

Fuck, yeah. Batcuffs first. Sleeping gas second.

The trick with the grappling hook was my favorite.

U r slaying my reputation.

IDK, I think u moved up a notch in Matt’s eyes.

Just what I always wanted.

And u know he’s gonna ask u about it…

Tell him I got u a Batmobile. With a lift kit.

A little extreme, don’t u think?

And cool as shit.

But I look so cute riding in your li’l old BMW…

Fuck you.

Only if u wear a Batman costume for real.

Only if u let me use the Batclaw.

It’s a deal.

U and your deals.

:)

Can I pick u up today?

Yes.

Let’s go to the shooting range and u can practice using my Batgun.

Batman doesn’t use a gun.

This one does.

’Cause apparently this one has a superhero weapons fetish.

Nah. Safety fetish. For u.

Just my luck. C u at 6:00.

Ok.

When I switch my phone off, I realize I must look like a fool. Or a pervert. I’m sitting in a seedy parking lot, looking down at my crotch, and smiling like a court jester about to get lucky with the princess. I lift my head and look around to make sure no one is watching. This woman is indeed slaying my reputation.

Chapter 21

After Elizabeth

I am standing on Clawsen’s Bridge in a state of ecstasy. Pure fucking ecstasy. It’s beyond pleasurable; it’s rapture of biblical proportions. I close my eyes and feel a surge of power shake through me. It’s the kind of power that comes from the ability to completely dominate and control another living being. To end someone. And it is epic.
Epic
. This is the third time I’ve stood on this bridge, and I can say in all honesty, that the rush is exponentially better every time. Epically exponential.

When I walked into Peyton’s yesterday and saw Elizabeth lounging against my father like a mongoose in heat, I almost jumped at them, but then Ken pulled me out the door in an attempt to save his own ass. He said he wanted to keep his job. Ken doesn’t know about me and Elizabeth, that much I know for sure. No one knows about us. But, when I asked him, he said he knew about my father and Elizabeth. Hell, he said the whole town knew. Everyone but me, apparently. Ken laughed at my ignorance, and it took everything inside of me not to sink my fist into his pudgy stomach. She made a fool out of me. A fucking fool.

After Ken took me back to work, I stood in my father’s office thinking about how I would make her pay. About how I would make my father pay. He was part of the humiliation, too. A lifetime of humiliation. Then Elizabeth walked in and started talking. She started apologizing and telling me she was done with him. Done with my asshole father. But her apology was hollow. I knew it and she knew it too. Like every other apology in the world, it was just words.

I admit I was sad at first. Sad that Elizabeth wasn’t who I thought she was. Sad that she was capable of such incredible deceit. Sad that I was stupid enough to fall for it. But then she kept talking, trying to excuse her actions and telling me I’m the one she loves, and I got mad. Really, really mad. I stopped listening to her drivel. Instead, I started thinking about screwing over my father and stopping at the hardware store on my way home. I knew how this day would end even before we left my father’s office.

Then today, on this bridge, she completely crossed the line. I cannot believe she had the nerve to stand here in front of me and tell me that sometimes “life is complicated.” Fuck her. I
know
all about how complicated life is. I know it because I live it every single goddamn day. And contrary to her declaration,
her
life wasn’t even that complicated. It was just full of bad decisions; bad decisions that
she
made.
She
chose to leave her husband.
She
chose to take a shit job working for a contractor.
She
chose to fuck a father and his son.
She
chose to do this to
herself.

I,
on the other hand, did
not
choose to watch my mother die.
I
did
not
choose to have an alcoholic bastard for a father. I did
not
choose to sleep with a woman who was already fucking my father.
I
did not complicate my own life.
Life
complicated
me
. So don’t treat me like I’m something to be patronized and demeaned just because I’m only half your age, because I’ve lived
less
life. Don’t tell me you made a bad decision just because “life is complicated.” Don’t preach honesty and forgiveness and love when you aren’t doing anything more than trying to justify your own sins under the guise of “life is complicated.” Don’t tell me any of it, Elizabeth, because it makes you duplicitous. And stupid.

I look over the edge of the bridge, and I can’t help but smile. It wasn’t hard this time. It was easy. She made it easy. She made it so that, when I go back to my father’s office for his bank account information, it will be justified. Because of her, it is right for me to take life-as-he-knows-it away from him. Because of her, I know I deserve better. I know I need to get the hell away from here and start being someone else. I hear my drunk-ass father snoring in the honeysuckles at the end of the bridge, and it takes everything in me not to go over there and kick him in his sleep.

Two minutes ago, I was mad at Elizabeth. Beyond mad. But now I think I love her in a strange kind of way. I think I love her because she gave me a reason to do it again. She gave me motive and incentive, and I can’t thank her enough. I send my “thank you” to the bottom of the river, through the ripples, and into her ear. She’s probably down there right now putting a “you’re welcome” into her last bubble of breath and sending it back up to the surface. Back up to me.