Authors: Anne Lawrence
Chapter Twenty-Five
“So you
ignored
orders?”
Oliver was on the edge of his seat, his lips close to Jeff’s ear as the driver turned the car on the road into town.
“I… yeah. Sorry.”
“And why did you do that?”
Jeff glanced at Oliver in the rearview mirror and saw the beads of sweat below his cap. He looked from Oliver to the road.
“Jeff?”
“I… I don’t know, Mr. Chambers.”
Oliver fell back against his seat and rubbed his face with his hands.
“Perfect.”
Oliver’s mind drifted back to Cassandra at the foot of the stairs. He had wanted to tell Faye to see that she stayed. Even though he wasn’t sure what he would do with her once he returned.
Cassandra had broken the rules and used his ultimate failure against him in an effort to justify her transgression. He didn’t know if he could trust her.
Did he even want to? He turned the possibility of sending her away around in his mind.
He couldn’t do that either.
Only one thing was certain. He didn’t want her hurt. Everything was arranged to keep her from all harm. And he’d failed there, too. He would have to redouble his efforts to keep her even closer.
“Boss?”
Jeff’s voice shook Oliver from her reverie.
“She was… she is
determined. She had to do it. And I was just trying to help.”
That was Jeff. That was always
Jeff.
He
had written the postcard.
Jeff was already tattooed and lurking in a basement apartment with when the cries came up from just above. Pipes were passed, but Jeff couldn’t tune out the sound of the blows. Whenever he broached the subject with his family, the response was always the same.
None of our business
.
They spoke the words in slurred, stoned tones.
So Jeff took it upon himself to knock on Lily’s door. He told Oliver that she kept the chain latched as she peeked out at him. Even if Lily had let him in, what chance would he have had against the
man
of the house?
So he asked her if there was someone he could call. Lily was afraid that the phones were tapped. Jeff had offered to dial from his line, but even that seemed too dangerous. In her terrified state, all she could think to do was scribble an address on a napkin and hand it to the boy before closing the door. Jeff went to the corner store. He purchased a postcard with a tranquil image of the New York City skyline. He scribbled
his
address and four words.
Please come
now. Hurry!
Then he waited and Oliver arrived. Too
late as Cassandra had so accurately pointed out.
Once Lily was gone, and he
was led off in cuffs, Oliver was left to clean up the mess and collect her belongings. He barely knew what was hers in this place so far from home.
Then Jeff appeared with tears streaming down his face.
“What do you want?” Oliver had demanded.
Jeff sniffled and wiped his eyes.
“I’m sorry. I should have done it sooner.”
He spilled the story of the unending nightmare that had been Lily’s final act and the Hail Mary pass that was the postcard. But the boy had tried to do something. If nothing else, it gave him a chance to see Lily, to hold her one last time before her suffering stopped.
He pressed Lily’s bag to his arm started to take him home. When Oliver saw what his home
was, he decided to do one
thing right. He took Jeff under his wing. Oliver had ideas of turning the kid into a Rhodes Scholar or grooming him as the heir apparent for an empire he was now even
more
determined to build. Jeff showed little interest in facts and figures. Cars were his bag. So Oliver put him to work in that corner of his empire and made him a driver once he was of age. Jeff always seemed appreciative, and Oliver knew that Lily would approve.
“Boss?”
The car idled before an intersection.
“I know,” Oliver said. “And I’m… I’m glad that you were there.”
Jeff relaxed and adjusted his cap.
“So now what, Boss?”
Oliver’s face darkened.
“You know where he is?”
Jeff’s face brightened.
“I know where we left him. Miss Dodd really did a number on him.”
Good for Cassie.
“Wanna see if he’s still there?”
“Absolutely.”
They pulled up to the B&B. Jeff parked and hurried from the driver’s seat to open Oliver’s door. They entered the lobby, and Oliver fixed his stare on the desk clerk who was preoccupied another patron.
“We were promised
gluten-free
dining. And
this
?”
The man tossed a piece of toast in the desk clerk’s face.
“Not what we paid for.”
Oliver had more pressing concerns than this jerk’s digestive issues. He pushed him aside and started to address the clerk.
“Excuse me. I’m looking—”
The other patron got in Oliver’s face.
“Hey! Wait your turn, guy. I’m talking
here.”
“If that’s what you call it. But I—”
“What? Think you can just
cut
ahead because you’re… you’re
what
? Like entitled or something?”
“This is important.”
He had another piece of toast in his other hand.
“So is this! I’m trying to keep with a program here.”
“Sir—”
“Don’t call me that. I’m not some… some guy on your payroll.”
Oliver’s patience was wearing thin.
“If you were, you’d be calling me that.”
Jeff laughed, and the desperate-to-be-gluten free patron bypassed Oliver and grabbed Jeff’s collar.
“What are you smiling at?”
“I—”
Oliver took him by the wrist and pried him away from Jeff.
“Leave him alone.”
The patron started to protest, and Oliver plucked the piece of toast from his hand and shoved it into the man’s mouth.
“And eat a piece of real bread. It’s only been a staple forever.”
The patron choked on his toast and backed away from Oliver. He spit his masticated bread on the floor and made like he was going to strike a blow for his diet. Oliver stopped any chance of that and lifted the patron from the floor. He had him against the wall.
“Now
go away
. I have a real problem.”
Oliver lowered the patron, and he wiped the wet crumbs from his mouth as he headed up the steps, his tail between his legs. Oliver took a deep breath and turned to see Jeff at his side.
“Nice, Boss. You okay?”
Oliver cleared his throat.
“I
will
be.”
He approached the desk clerk again. The man didn’t appear to know which way was up. Oliver needed to point him in the right direction.
Several hundred dollar bills from his pocket were a good start.
“I hear there was a rumble. See my friend here?”
The clerk could barely look at Jeff.
“Do you see him? You
know
him. Right?”
The clerk nervously nodded.
“Fine. He escorted two ladies out of your fine establishment with a lying menu.”
Jeff smirked as the clerk’s breath slipped between his lips.
“So you remember?”
The clerk finally nodded.
“Great. So where’s the other guy?”
“I—”
“The…”
Oliver suddenly realized that he had no way of describing the man except that he was another monster who needed to be put down. He didn’t even know his name.
He turned to Jeff for help.
“What’s his name?”
He saw Jeff search his recent memory for the answer.
“Um… Adam? I think. Yeah. Adam.”
Oliver turned back to the clerk.
“Adam. He still here?”
The clerk shook his head and pointed to the door.
“No. After… after your friends left, he hit the Hornet’s Nest.”
That was nothing compared
to what Oliver had in store.
Jeff took Oliver by the arm.
“A bar. What else? It’s just down the street.”
They left the clerk quaking as they headed for their new destination.
The Hornet’s Nest was such a cliché that peanut shells littered the dimly lit floor. Oliver scanned the room of day laborers and decided that whatever else
happened, Cassandra would not be allowed on the roads these men supposedly paved. Jeff touched his arm and nodded at a table in the corner. Oliver saw a young man with his own set of bruises courtesy of someone in Cassandra’s merry trio, and he stepped forward.
Adam didn’t look up as Oliver pulled a chair to his table and sat with an icy glare.
“Yeah? What’s your deal?”
Oliver signaled for Jeff, and he was at his side.
“Boss?”
“What he’s having.”
Jeff scanned the glass closely and was off. Adam took another swig.
“Beer, idiot. No secret.”
Oliver wanted to smash his skull between his palms and leave the remains to mingle with the peanut shells. But Cassie had already left him bruised. She’d done a good job of putting him in his place.
Jeff reappeared with two beers. He sat and looked to Oliver before he drank.
“Go on,” Oliver said.
Jeff gratefully sipped the through the foam. Adam laughed at the sight.
“Need his permission to piss, too?”
Oliver leaned across the table.
“Of course
not. But you… you’d better pay attention.”
Adam drained his mug and sat back in his chair.
“Why?”
“Because… you’re struck my… wife.”