Roman's Redemption: Roman: Book II (Roman's Trilogy) (19 page)

I knew it. I didn’t know how she fit into it or where, and, well shit, I still don’t, not really. But at least I’m not the only person paying attention to her on the sidelines.

“Heather?”

Shit. Why, Mac? Why call him?

My eyes scan the screen and when I see Andrew is having a hard time holding Roman back, I concede we may need back up. I need to know what the hell is going on and where Dolores stands in this game, and dead people don’t talk.

“Rich, I may need you to swing by. There’s an issue that doesn’t seem very favorable occurring between Rome and Dolores. She said, he said, blah, blah, blah, but whatever it was she said last, must have pissed him off and I say that because I think he may be trying to kill her…”

“I’m already in the car, I’ll be there in less than twenty minutes. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“I need you to stay on the phone with me dear and tell me what is happening. Alright?”

“Okay, I can do that.”

The sound of glass and wood shattering draws my eyes back to the monitor.

“Umm…yeah, I gotta go.”

Click.

I hate how hard it is for me to gain control back and how easily Mace seems to take it away, but I will say I am getting better at it while she stays the same. I just hope it accounts for something.

I hear Richard before I see him at the exact moment Mace lets loose of her control and I step into whatever hell she has left me in.

“Roman Payne! Explain the meaning of this!” Richard looks from Roman, to me, then to Andrew and finally stops on Dolores.

Mace really doesn’t even have to say it, because yes, immediately I see when it flashes in both their eyes.

Once upon a time, they were lovers, and this realization makes my heart break for my silent friend. Nudging me away from dusting the base boards and windexing the three story wall of window’s overlooking Payne Manor when she heard Roman’s car pull up in the drive. The only woman who’s ever been a part of my life, the only mother figure, the older sister I never had, and the first person to hold out a helping hand to me in the middle of my self- imprisoned hell, all in the name of loving a man who didn’t want or deserve to be loved. All just for the sake of seeking the goodness in a man who believed he was Lucifer, or Lucifer’s Belial himself.

The one soul I always thought would be on our side is the same woman willing to die just to tear us apart.

“They’re Romeo and Juliet, well son of a bitch. Pun completely intended. Motherfucking modern day, Romeo and Juliet, gotta tell ya, Mac. I did not see that one coming.”

Are you kidding me right now? Romeo and Juliet didn’t fake people’s deaths, have children as a product of their infidelity, they didn’t lie, cheat, betray, and kidnap!

My eyes narrow on my father-in-law, I promise they didn’t stand aside casting blame on others when the sins of their own flesh is still very much alive and directly in front of the entire family’s eyes.

“Roman, son, I will not repeat my question.”

Okay, so something happens right now, at this moment in the story, I’m not certain who the winning Heather is, but I do know without any doubts, whatever identity game my defensive coordinator, Mace and my offensive line Mac have been lost in, has ended.

My contentment and conspiracy melds together. My shy and weak, non-confrontational tendencies fuse with my outgoing, strong, and never bites her tongue. Positive and negative, good and evil, love and hate, smitten and cynical, all of my rights and wrongs…My Mac and Mace, all of it just merges.

And the second the words fall from my mouth, I’m grateful for the insane, paranoid parts of myself; but most of all, I’m proud when I hear my loyal, unwavering voice respond to my hypocritical father-in-law’s question, “Roman is doing exactly what every good father is supposed to: absolutely everything in his power to make sure his child is safe and his family is happy. And he’s doing it even though he knows the repercussions of what he does today will haunt and hurt him every day for the rest of his life.”

Both Payne men are blinking at me in shock when Roman steps forward and embraces me, one arm circling my shoulders as his other arm circles my waist.

“Mouse, baby, please. I’m so out of my comfort zone right now, I can’t tell you how much I love you, but I need you to listen, because if you don’t our daughter will be raised by neither of her parents. Please. Heather, I beg you, please just do this one thing for me, for Ivy? Please?”

I refuse to allow myself the lazy, agoraphobic tendencies I used to enable myself. I’m not taking the liar’s way out, I’m taking the hard way out, the untraveled path.

I swallow past the lump in my throat and look up at my husband waiting for him to continue.

“I’m going to handle this. This is my family’s mess and I will fix it, okay angel?”

I nod before looking down, hoping to keep my determination hidden within my eyes.

It may be his family’s mess, but the bottom line is, it’s messing with me. Dolores has already stolen too much time from my daughter and me. She doesn’t get to have any more.

I don’t know how yet, but even if it’s the death of me, she’ll get not a minute more than she’s already taken.

Chapter 26

It’s been over two months since Winter came into our little dysfunctional family consisting of me and my sister playing house with Winter as our child when the harsh realization that mother truly loves Roman more than her own son begins to plague me.

Most of the time, Winter’s accomplishments are enough to direct my dark brooding thoughts to happier ones filled with pride for my new daughter. Winter has done exceptionally well with her conditioning, conforming like a good girl to her part in our twisted labyrinth of lies and deceit that make up the setting of our new lives.

I still test her, and I will admit I feel pride when I say she very rarely flinches when I call her by the name she was born with. Winter Ivy now only responds, recognizing her new name, Winter Angelina.

For the first time since her mother was mine, before she defied me and fought me, before she broke my plans and ruined it all, costing her the loss of her daughter, I feel contentment.

Peace.

I feel happiness.

With only two plagues dampening my grand plans, I still feel the optimism needed to continue this charade. The first plague being my ignorant, incestuous sister and her inability to tell the difference between reality and fantasy. I’m often pushed to the point of rage by the hope I see in her eyes as she devotedly hands me her love and affection. But it’s the look of pathetic disappointment on her face when we have no spectators around to entertain that I blatantly disregard her stupid, childish romantic notions.

The second nuisance affecting my plans is the silent treatment Mother is bestowing both me and Lizbeth. It isn’t the radio silence that bothers me or pulls me away from the gratification of my successful plans, its Mother’s ability to deliver dead air.

The days turn to weeks, the weeks to months, and before our happy little family realizes it, six months have already come and gone.

Mother’s uncharacteristic continued silence is beginning to affect my happiness less and less. However, Lizbeth’s advances towards me haven’t lessened and are quickly becoming tiresome, weakening my resolve as well as my patience.

I clearly see the colors of reality and fiction blurring, reds, oranges, and yellows of happiness and peace smudge and run into the dark purples, grays, and blacks of twisted perversions and depravity, marring the picture of the perfect family we present to the outside world.

Nothing about us, or our motley crew makes sense, yet somehow it works effortlessly.

Winter has done exceptionally well in her preschool lessons, and over the last few months she’s easily situated herself amongst her peers. In the beginning I was proud of my Winter Angelina for her ability to evolve around the difficult changes her immature mind withstood. However, once the excuses I use to keep her from accepting the sleep over and birthday party invitations dry up, Winter’s mingling becomes a problem that I know will sooner or later need to be addressed and dealt with.

As for the way Lizbeth and I spend our time day to day, I’ve become the one thing I’ve fought becoming since the birth of my plans for revenge. The thing I’ve always been: I am a cleaner of other people’s kill.

This shitty town with its pathetic employment opportunities has forced me into a profession I vowed to never do again.

Though it isn’t Roman’s kill, I’m still peeling the skin, gutting their entrails, and cleaning other men’s kills at Atchafalaya Processing & Taxidermist.

Lizbeth was lucky enough to find a part-time job as an assistant librarian at The Orleans Parish Library, making it easier for her to work around Winter’s school hours. She’s still able to take her to school and pick her up afterward.

Our family unit, against all odds, is seemingly running like a well-oiled machine. The only hiccups in our daily lives are caused by Winter’s incessant need to continue to ask questions.

“Where’s my mommy at? Not my Lizbiff mommy, but my real mommy?”

“Where’s my daddy at? Not my untle Seb daddy, but my real daddy?”

These fucking questions and constant nagging are like nails raking down a chalkboard, the whining, God, her immature whining tone brings me to the brink of snapping. But she always sighs and mutters a defeated, “Never mind, Daddy, I sowy, I know you can’t say me the trufe.” And instantly my heart warms for the poor child, reminding me how far she’s come and how much she is really trying to become accustomed to her new life.

And this is why I know, that even though things aren’t perfect, the job I’m forced to endure, the façade of a marriage I play a part in with my sister and the daughter of the only woman I have and ever will love, playing the role of our child with my great great grandmothers sugar plantation as the setting of this modern day tragedy which I am the director of.

Chapter 27

Sebastian has indeed been playing stronger than I ever could have imagined him equipped for. He’s not only playing it, but set up the rules and the players, all while mastering it without me knowing I was ever in the game. He’s defeated me and taken the only things I hold dear, then used my sins against my, our, father to foot his bill.

The Judas bastard. The snake in the grass at my heel as well as one of my few right hand men sworn to lay their life down for mine or my family. The coward vulture in the dark, finding scraps of pleasure while watching me fight my demons with the blood of innocent women, still seems to need me to leach from so he can feed his own sick and perverted desires.

However, that bastard brother of mine has gone too far this time. He’s over stepped his bounds, outstayed his welcome, and now he will be stopped. And I don’t care what I have to do. He will pay for what he’s done to my wife and our child.

“Dolores and I have been in each-others’ lives a very long time, son. And no, it isn’t an excuse, but it does explain things you need to understand. Neither of us ever meant for it to carry on, especially after your grandfather announced your mother as my bride to be. Then after we married, and Dolores stayed on with the family instead of continuing her nursing courses after her mother died, father sent her with us. The second she and I were alone I knew there’d be no way I could stay away from her.