Ten Days of Perfect (33 page)

“Um, sorry, we haven’t been introduced.” I pointed my eyes to Bill’s friend.

“This guy,” Bill interjected, “works with us at DROP, too. He’s the community educator.”

“Oh, so you must be Tristan MacMillian?” I stuck out my hand as the bass from the stereo volleyed for position in my head over my heartbeat.

“Tristan’s my dad’s name,” he smiled as he stuck out his hand, “my friends call me Max.”

Run.

Are you crazy? Run!

My brain shouted to my frozen body as terror took over. It tasted like cayenne infused wine; it was disorienting and pulled beads of sweat to the surface of my forehead. I took one prey-like step back as my senses scrambled. In the last twenty minutes my brain received two very important pieces of information; one, Bill Holder is blackmailing Bo, two, the two men in front of me were most definitely the “Bill and Max” duo from the garage nearly two weeks ago.

“Hey, you
OK
?” Max reached out for my arm and I reflexively flinched back.

“I, uh, just need to get some air. I’ve had a lot to drink.” My eyes moved from Max’s to Bill’s, and back again.

Turning my head to the dance floor, I finally caught Bo’s sight. He put his hand on Ainsley’s shoulder, mumbled something, and tore through the crowd toward me.

“Ember?” Bo gripped his hand on my sweat-soaked back.

“Get me out of here, now!” I raced toward the exit, not looking back.

Bo was just a second behind me as I sucked the cool, calming air in to my lungs outside McCarthy’s.

“What the hell happened? Ainsley just-”

“This isn’t about Ainsley, Bo. Those - those guys, Bill . . . and Max . . .” My erratic breathing was doing nothing to help my voice.

Bo grasped my shoulders and squared me to him, “They what, Ember? Did they say anything to you?” His fingers pressed in deep urgency against my skin.

“No. Those fucking guys were the ones, the ones behind the garage that I dropped my car off at two weeks ago. Why the
fuck
were they in Barnstable? Are they blackmailing other people?” I spewed all at once.

I became more aware of the sound of my breathing in the silent night. My eyes darted around, noting the desertion around Bo and me.

“I don’t think so, Ember.” Bo looked toward the door in growing fear.

“Well I’ve got news for you, they beat the hell out of some guy named Spike, and I-”

“What the fuck did you do, Cavanaugh?” the all-too familiar sneer followed us out to the sidewalk.

“Bill,
not now.
” Bo stood in front of me so I wasn’t in the line of verbal fire.

“She knows
something
, Golden Boy, or she wouldn’t have called you by your high school football name -
no one calls you that anymore.”

Bo’s back stiffened as Bill’s words hammered incoherently in to my head.

“Wait . . .” I stepped back slowly, dragging my toes with each step.

Bo turned to me and his pain-seared face nearly knocked me over.

“S-spike, is your nickname?” My head swirled as blackness overtook my peripheral vision.

In a flash, Bill was lunging past Bo and toward me. Bo threw up his forearm like a steel beam and stopped Bill from colliding with me; but he still managed to grab at my shoulder, knocking me off balance. Bo turned to steady me, giving Bill another swipe at me. He wrapped his hand around my arm.

“What’d he tell you, huh? Did he tell you about his slutty sister? Tell you how much money she owes me, that I took the job with DROP to get it back, but it wasn’t coming fast enough?” He spoke through adrenaline, as Bo was lunging toward him.

I tried to pull my arm away but he only tightened his grip. Tears threatened, but for some reason I couldn’t scream. I ducked in time for Bo’s fist to connect with Bill’s face, causing him to release my arm.

“Run, Ember! Go!” Bo hollered right through me. Thankfully, my fight-or-flight response chose flight in agreement with Bo, and I turned and ran. I heard nothing other than my heart beat and my heels on the sidewalk. My shoes did nothing to steady my frantic gait as I realized I had no idea where I was going.

Away.

My sight cleared as I focused on someone walking - no, running - down the sidewalk in my direction.

Adrian.

“Adrian! Adrian, help!” I managed a scream that tore through the quaint street.

I paid less attention to the scene behind me, and more attention to his face as we got closer. In one step, the pavement was no longer under my feet - it was under my face.

“Ember! What the hell is going on?” Adrian knelt beside me and
grabbed my shoulders
.

Stallion-like foot beats approached behind me as I pushed myself from the sidewalk.
Ouch.
For the first time since I ran, I looked back. Bo, Bill, and Max were a block behind me and Bo was holding them both back; but just barely.

“Those guys, Bill . . . and Max . . . they’re involved . . .”

“
Jesus Christ
,” Adrian fished through is pocket and produced a plastic credit-card looking thing, “here’s my key for The Centennial, room 323, go!” He pointed in the direction he came from as he helped me to my feet before running toward Bo.

I kicked off my shoes and kept running, leaving them where I fell.

* * *

Taupe. That’s the color I named the walls of Adrian’s room at The Centennial. There was only a digital clock in the room, but I could hear the ticking of impossible time. I was growing anxious at the unknown fates of the men I
’d
left behind on the sidewalk

I must have been a real sight showing up to th
e
classy hotel bloody and shoeless
. I
ke
pt
my head down as I ran to the
elevator, praying not to run in
to anyone as I opened his door.

My muscles started to ring from the fall I took in those
damn
shoes. I rose and limped to the bathroom to survey the damage; my skinned elbows and knees were crusted in dried blood. My eyes lifted to meet themselves in the wall-length mirror; a fairly deep looking gash oozed blood from my right eyebrow- I turned aimlessly back to the room and sat carefully on the bed.

Taupe. Tick. Tock.

A soft knock on the door didn’t startle me as it would have even two hours ago; I rose indolently and moved toward the door. There was another knock.

“It’s Adrian, Ember.”

I turned and walked back to the bed as I opened the door so he wouldn’t see my face immediately. Adrian closed the door softly; more to appease me than the other guests, I assumed. I heard a clunk on the dresser and turned to see him set my shoes down; I cracked a half-smile but winced against the pain.

“Fuck, Blue, hang on,” he said as he went to the bathroom and turned on the water. He returned with a wet washcloth and sat next to me on the bed, “I’m just going to clean off your face, OK?” I nodded, my eyes never leaving the infinite spot on the wall
they’d chosen
. When the warm washcloth connected with my wound, I leaned in to Adrian’s hand and was able to finally start processing the events of the last couple of hours.

“Does anything else hurt?” he continued. I just shook my head.

“Where’s Bo? Did he get hurt?” I asked, not moving my head from his hand.

“No, Cavanaugh’s fine, don’t know why those pricks messed with him in the first place - he’s much stronger. They’re at the police station; Bill and Max will be staying the night. Bo hung around a while to make sure you didn’t have to come down and give a statement.”

“What? Of course I do, right?”

“You didn’t really have anything to do with the fight those three got into on the sidewalk; you ran away. Bo wants you as far away from this as possible.” Adrian draped his arm around my shoulder.

“But, in Barnstable the three of them-”

“The three of them were in Barnstable? When?” Adrian leaned back, forcing me to hold my own weight. I noticed Adrian was wearing a tight red t-shirt, and wanted to smile at our wardrobe telepathy. I chose, however, to remain
on
the task at hand.

I told Adrian the story of the night when I dropped my car off at the garage, and the events that transpired thereafter. He listened intently, like the lawyer he’d become; furrowing his brow, nodding, and rubbing his chin.

“So you didn’t
see
any of them.” Adrian asserted.

“No, just heard their names and they were talking about Rae . . . but I thought it was ‘Ray’. They called the other guy ‘Spike,’ which I now know to be some high school nickname given to Bo . . .” My thoughts drifted to Rachel who was still, hopefully, unaware of the situation.

As Adrian opened his mouth to speak, there was a frantic knock on the door.

“Adrian? November? It’s Bo - let me in.”

I rose, but Adrian’s hand forced me back to the bed.

“Just sit, you’re a mess,” he said as he headed toward the door.

Inexplicably, Adrian opened the door just a crack.

“What the hell Turner, let me in! I need to see her, is she OK?” Bo was frantic.

“Just, OK, stay calm dude, she hasn’t cleaned up yet,” Adrian said as he backed away from the door.

“What the hell? Oh my God, Ember!” Bo fell to his knees in front of me, wrapping his arms around my waist and burying his face in my lap.

The dam broke, and in the span of time it took for him to utter the word ‘God’
,
I went from near-catatonic to a heaving, shuddering mess. He rose and met me on the bed, using tender strength as he pulled me toward him. When I finally pulled away, I saw my blood-stained tears resting on his shirt, and Adrian standing uncomfortably by the bathroom door.

“Bo, what the
fuck
was all of that?” I finally managed as I stood and crossed toward the bathroom to clean myself off. Adrian walked to the other side of the room as Bo remained seated.

I walked out after my face, elbows and knees were sufficiently cleaned, and found the guys in the exact same positions.

“Ember,” Adrian started, “you were telling me that you saw, or heard, something with Bill and Max a couple weeks ago in Barnstable?” His tone was prompting.

“Yea, and apparently Bo - but they called him Spike . . .”

“That was my nickname in high school-long story,” he chuckled.

“Why didn’t I know about this, Bo?”

Bo stood and faced Adrian, “Those assholes knew I’d be in Southern New England for a couple weeks on business and they were getting impatient. I knew if I just got it out of the way at the beginning of the trip it would buy me a couple of weeks . . .”

“Damn it, Cavanaugh!” Adrian yelled. “A fight? Behind a garage!”

“Calm down, Turner
.
” Bo held up his hands and dropped his voice.

“But you didn’t
see
anyone?” Adrian continued, shifting his glance back to me.

“No, I told you that,” I said as I crossed passed Bo, toward Adrian. I was their geographic center for the moment; I’d seen enough fights for one night, “It was dark, I was hiding behind a
fucking tree
, and I”- I stopped myself mid-sentence, dropping my jaw, and widening my eyes in horror at Adrian.

“What?” Adrian reached for me, but I turned to my right.

“What?” Bo asked.

I turned slower than I’d ever turned in my life and addressed Bo.

“When did you know it was me?” I choked, shaken by my own words.

One . . .

Two . . .

Three . . .

“
When
did you know it was
me, Bowan?”
I took one purposeful step forward and heard Adrian shift behind me.

“Ember,” Adrian touched my shoulder, turning me back around, “what the hell are you talking about?”

“I saw
him
that night.” The weight of the revelation did its best to crush me.

Bo touched my back, “Nov-”

“Shh!” I replied, not turning around, “I saw ‘Spike’ that night. It was nearly dark, he was shadowed under a street light more than fifty feet away. I heard the fight, one car pull away, I checked to see
. . .
”

I turned back to Bo.

“November . . .”

“When . . . the
fuck
. . . did you know it was me?” I recoiled as he reached for me.

Anxious sweat highlighted his forehead, “We were fifty feet away, I had no idea-”

“Bullshit! You realize there was a potential witness to whatever the hell happened and you don’t use every
single
second to memorize every detail of what I look, sound, act like? Tell me, Bo . . .”