Learning to Forgive (The Learning Series) (15 page)

The first thing I do when I finally get to Chris’s is shower. It’s only one a.m. so I know Chris is still out, and I have time for myself. The water is the hottest I can get it and leaves my skin the color of cherries, but I need to get clean. Sterilized even. Then my brain shows flashes of Alex over me, kissing my skin, before I envision the person who was supposed to protect me in life doing the same thing.

That’s a good girl, Blaire. Show Daddy how much you love him. Daddy loves you.

Screaming, I scrub harder. My nails scratch my skin until blood surfaces. But nothing helps. Nothing takes it away.

This is our secret. You’ll keep our secret, won’t you? No one will believe you if you tell. They can’t understand a love like this
.

“Stop it. Stop. Please.
Benji!
Help me.” I hit the shower wall, wishing the nightmares would leave. I cry out for my brother, but I get no reply. He was the one who saved me and took me away. But now he’s gone, and I have no one but myself. I’m so weak. Just like Mandy always said. So fucking weak and stupid.

Standing, I turn off the water that now runs cold. My legs slowly carry me to the sink, and I see the naked reflection of the girl I hate. Quickly, I open the medicine cabinet to escape her stare and see several medicine bottles full of prescriptions for Chris’s pain and PTSD. I open the one for sleep labeled Ambien and take three, desperate for nothingness to consume me so that I can forget. After I crawl into bed naked, my eyes become heavy, and my mind goes blank. Finally, I’ve found a void.

"Integrity is doing the right thing even when no one is watching."

~C.S. Lewis

Lyric

I put down my guitar and storm off the stage. My ever-present rage has reached new heights tonight, and no matter how many times I tell myself to leave Red alone and let her go, I
fucking can’t
. After I kissed her last night, I knew instantly I was in too deep and needed to cut ties with her. I have too much shit going on in my life to add fucking emotions and some insane girl to the mix. Definitely not what I need.

Running into Mari at the gym today seemed like the perfect distraction. A way to remember I just need to get laid every once in a while and nothing more. We fucked in the gym showers, not caring who heard or saw us. But when her back was to me as I slammed into her, all I saw was red hair and pale ivory skin. All I saw was Red, and I never wanted it to end. And all I felt was guilt when it was over.

Seeing her tonight with Polesky’s guy, and watching as she left with that motherfucker, gutted me. I felt like I was punched in the stomach so hard I wanted to hit my knees. But I just hollered louder in the mike and played my Gibson until it felt like fire was going to erupt. The entire time on the stage, my mind was seeing the two of them wrapped in one another or working together. I can’t figure out what thought is worse. The one of her being a pawn in the Russian cartel or her having feelings for that cocky ass sonofabitch Bishop.

Now, I’m free to leave. I bypass every fucking person and go straight to my bike. They’re lucky my ass stayed and finished the fucking set. Instead of beating the shit out of Bishop, my music took my abuse tonight. Now though… now, I’m ready to find those two and get some fucking answers. Where has she been since she left town after Ben died? Did she get caught up with Polesky somehow? And most importantly, what is her fucking problem?

I travel the streets of downtown Mobile while thinking of Blaire and ignore my phone that continuously beeps and vibrates in my pocket. Finally, after I pull to a stop along the curb, I watch the building in front of me. I un-straddle my bike and put up the kickstand, preparing to wait and watch to see if either Polesky shows up or if Red makes an appearance.

Just as I’m lighting a cigarette, I see her bright ass hair coming out of the building before she jumps in a cab. She seems to be in a hurry, and from this distance, her face looks like she’s been crying. My blood starts to pump hard as I think of that fucker hurting her. Even though she went willingly to bed with him, she shouldn’t be crying about it. I feel for my Glock 45 under my leather jacket as tendrils of smoke rise around my face. Before I can take a step in the hotel’s direction, a car stops in front of me.

“Don’t do it, man. Think about it before you go in there and kill the motherfucker. Be smart. You’re asking to make this situation worse than it has to be.” Hyde knows I’m a short fuse waiting to explode, but he’s right. Tonight is not the night to put a bullet in that guy’s head.

Smoke blows from my nose as I give Hyde a go to hell look. Then I flick my cigarette away and get back on my bike. Without saying a word, I head home. I have some research to do on Blaire Morgan.

Walking inside, I slam the door before grabbing a beer and going into the computer room. My mind wants to find Red and shake her for answers, but I know that won’t get me anywhere. Especially after the way she looked tonight.

When I register into our confidential archive of personal information, I have high hopes of finding some sort of answers. Reading through the small amount of records, I see nothing on her known whereabouts this past year. Even Hyde has nothing on her being with Polesky in Atlanta. So I search further in the past. After about ten minutes of sorting through several girls with similar names, I find my Red. At first, I don’t think it’s her. The photo is of a little girl with pale blonde hair smiling with her sixth grade class. But I’d recognize those hazel-green eyes anywhere. I follow up with the next year, and then the next, and soon, I don’t see any more smiles on her face. Just a lifeless stare. Then I look for Ben and notice the same thing. However, his smile doesn’t fall until his junior year.

“Look at hospital records,” Hyde says as he takes a seat beside me, eating an apple.

Taking his advice, I look for the local hospital records and find Ben and Blaire’s birth certificates. I run their parents’ names next. Mother Dianne Morgan passed away when they were around ten years of age. Father Joseph Morgan was a single father who worked at a steel mill but was let go several years later. He also volunteered at the local fire department and was an active member of the church. He’s now remarried but no current record of employment. And that’s it. Nothing more. I know all of their blood types and social security numbers but have no answers to my questions.

I take my work phone, not the one for the drug cartel, but my real work phone, and dial the number to the guy who’s been like a big brother to me for years. The guy who taught me how to keep a bullet out of my skull. One of the first people to show me respect in life. My one connection to The Reform. “Sergeant Massey? It’s Lyric. I have a request, sir.”

“Fuck, Lyric. This shit better be good. I just went to sleep.”

“Yes, sir. I need to take a few days and go out of town. I’ll leave Hyde here until I get back.”

“Leave? Why the fuck?” He breathes heavily over the phone. He’s about fifteen years older than I am and is one bad sonofabitch from his tours overseas. He’s a well-decorated Marine who worked with us kids when it was time for our training. He also knows that when I call for anything other than relaying information, it’s for a legit reason. Just like the kidnapping a few months ago.

After a minute, he answers. “Dammit. How long do I have to cover your ass again?”

“Two days. Three tops.”

“Alright. But I want your ass back ASAP. Got it?”

“I got it.” I go to hang up, but he calls my name. “Yeah, Massey?”

“Does this trip involve personal matters or is this business?”

“Both.”

He sighs with exasperation before the phone goes dead.

Hyde is watching me as I stand from the desk chair. I know he’s wondering what the fuck I’m doing. But I don’t even know, so I ignore him and print the address for Blaire’s father before I go pack. Instead of taking the bike or my car, I borrow Ryan’s 67’ GTO and head to South Carolina to do some recon. It’s the least he can do for my putting up with his ass.

When I reach the one red light town of Dunbar, South Carolina, I check into a local motel and get a few hours of sleep. Later that day, I scope out Blaire’s childhood town before I set eyes on the home she grew up in. It looks empty, but I still decide to park behind a few trees for cover.

The small, ranch-style house is in the middle of an old farm that doesn’t appear to be operating any longer. A rusted barn that’s falling to pieces sits fifty yards in the back, and an old corroded tractor has overgrowth and weeds covering it. The wood siding is old with chipped paint and a few boards missing on the front and left side.

When I get to the back of the property, I run into an old basset hound tied to a post. She’s starving, if her ribs showing are any indication. So I walk back to the car and grab some beef jerky before making my way back to her. She growls as I approach, so I toss a small piece. “That’s a good dog.” She gobbles it up, and I get closer to toss her another. When her tail starts wagging, I’m close enough to squat on my haunches, set a piece directly in front of me, and wait. Her large brown eyes watch me, unsure of what to do, but soon she comes closer and takes it. After the third time of doing this, I finally reach up and pat her behind her ear. That small touch has her in my lap, and she’s eating the rest of the jerky out of my hands “Poor bastard. You were hungry, weren’t you?” I know what it’s like to starve.

After a few more head rubs, I know it’s time to go back to my car and wait in the shadows for someone to get home. When I’m back at the car, I notice the windows from my vantage point are boarded up. The place isn’t abandoned because I hear a TV inside. Plus fresh beer cans are left scattered on the porch and throughout the yard. Whoever lives here is a drunk and a slob.

Lighting up a cigarette, I wait. An hour later, I see an old, red Dodge Dakota coming up the drive. When it parks in front of the house, the door swings open and an older man with a balding head and large gut gets out, a paper bag in one hand. He stumbles up the steps, and the fall breeze carries the smell of liquor in my direction. The poor dog barks and howls non-stop, probably begging for food, but the man doesn’t do anything other than yell for it to shut the hell up.

After he goes inside, I hear someone else. Turning my head, I see a woman get out of the passenger seat, and I’m sure she’s his new wife. She reaches in the back, and at first, I think she’s getting out another bag, but then I see the little girl she lifts and carries on her hip, while a cigarette hangs out of her mouth and comes close to burning the child.

The girl can’t be any older than four years, and she looks like she’s been crying if her red, blotchy face is any indication. Her strawberry blonde hair looks to be a knotted mess, and her bare feet are black on the bottom. Just then, she turns in my direction and looks where I’m hiding by the large oak tree. My heart almost hits the ground because I know, without a doubt, this is Red’s little sister. She has the same hazel eyes that continue to stare at me. Almost as if she knows I’m here. Thankfully, she never makes a sound. Only rubs her eyes and nose.

“Frankie? Where the fuck is the remote?” I hear a yell come from inside.

“I have no idea. Savannah was watching cartoons dis mornin’,” the woman says around her cigarette as she walks up the steps. “Joe. I gotta get ready for work since no one else in this damn house wants to make any money. So you gotta watch Vannah.” She walks inside and slams the door closed.

Leaning against the car, I wait and before too long the wife goes to work. She’s dressed in a McDonald’s uniform so I’m figuring she works a distance from home since I didn’t notice one in town. A few minutes later, the man comes out and sits on the front porch. He opens a white ice chest that sits beside his plastic chair and pulls out a beer. For two hours, I watch him as he finishes a whole twelve pack. On several occasions, the little girl has told him she’s hungry, but he either ignored her or yelled something while staying in his chair. When the sun’s gone down, I decide enough is enough. I walk out of the shadows and make my way toward the house.