At Peace (20 page)

“Did you stop having her back after you two
–?”

“Yeah.”

“So you were, um… having her back when you
were gone so much before?”

“I don’t hang in Indiana in the winter,
buddy. Got a place in Florida. I hang there. Come home to check on
things every once in awhile. Kenzie got a message to me, I knew she
was at my house, that’s why I was home that night. I came home to
deal with her.”

“Oh.”

She fell silent and he could see even in the
dark that her eyes were resting on the bed beside his shoulder. She
was naked beside him after he’d fucked her, they were talking,
another thing he never did with a woman, and she wasn’t touching
him.

And Cal found, he didn’t fucking like
that.

He reached out and wrapped his fingers around
her forearm, sliding them down to her hand which he brought up to
his chest and pressed it flat.

When he did this, her eyes came to his
face.

“Did they catch him?” she asked quietly.

“Who?”

“Kenzie’s stalker.”

“Yeah, a coupla weeks after I quit her. It
was in the news, buddy.”

“
I must have missed that,” she whispered
then asked, “Do you see a lot of stalker stuff with those
people?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you help?”

“Yeah.”

“So you know a lot about it.”

He left her hand at his chest and curled his
fingers under her hair where her head met her neck.

“Yeah, baby.”

Her body relaxed into his again. “Do they
catch them a lot?”

“Always.”

“Always?”

“Yeah,” he told her, not telling her that the
folks who got that obsessed sometimes crossed over the line, doing
stupid but seriously sick shit and exposing themselves but usually
terrifying the person they were stalking in the meantime.

“How do you know Daniel Hart?”

Cal didn’t hesitate in answering. “He killed
my cousin in Chicago.”

Her body jerked at his words and she
whispered, “What?”

“He killed my cousin. My mother was Italian,
she was from Chicago, my cousin fell in with a family and the
family he was in with is a rival of Hart’s. There was a skirmish
for territory. Vinnie was whacked during the skirmish.”

“Who got the territory?”

“Hart.”

The syllable was loaded when she muttered,
“Oh.”

“Mafia’s not big on givin’ up territory,” Cal
told her.

“So um…”

“So, Vinnie hasn’t been forgotten.”

“How long ago was it?”

“’Bout seven years.”

The syllable was still loaded when she
repeated it but it was a different weight this time when she
murmured, “Oh.”

He put pressure on her neck, her elbow slid
out from under her and he pulled her cheek to his shoulder. Her
hand glided down his chest then to his side so her arm could wrap
around his stomach.

“Sorry about your cousin,” she whispered into
his skin.

Cal didn’t reply.

“Were you close?”

Cal replied to that but his reply was an
understatement. He practically grew up with Vinnie Junior. Vinnie
was like a brother.

“Yeah.”

“Sorry.”

“Thought you were tired.”

“I am.”

“Then why you talkin’ not sleepin’?”

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

“It was a question, buddy. Somethin’ on your
mind?”

She hesitated then said, “Tomorrow’s
Friday.”

She didn’t go on so Cal prompted, “And?”

He could barely hear her when she whispered,
“That makes the next day Saturday.”

The fingers of his hand still resting at her
neck tensed into her scalp.

“Flowers aren’t gonna come.”

“
What if
he
comes?”

“He does, Colt or I’ll deal with it.”

She pressed her face into his shoulder and
her arm gave him a squeeze but she didn’t let go and he knew why
when she whispered, “Joe, he freaks out my girls.”

“We’ll deal with it, buddy.”

She went on like he didn’t speak. “I could
handle it, if it was just me, but he freaks out my girls.” She took
in a breath, let it out and her head and arm relaxed again. “They
act like they’re cool but those flowers scared them.”

“You’ll be okay and they’ll be okay.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because there’s no alternative.”

She gave a sharp, surprised laugh and her
head came up to look at him. “You know, you’re right.”

He did know he was right so he didn’t
reply.

She dropped her head and her arm left his
stomach and then both suddenly stilled. She seemed suspended for a
minute before her cheek went back to his shoulder and her arm
draped around his stomach again.

She was going to touch him somehow, do
something like she did before, running her fingers along his jaw.
But she didn’t, she was holding back and Cal felt the loss of that
and the emptiness it left locked in his chest.

“I’ll shut up now,” she muttered but then
asked, “Should we set your alarm?”

“You’ll be okay.”

“Maybe we should set your alarm.”

“I’ll get you home on time.”

“Sure?”

“Go to sleep.”

She hesitated then she whispered, “Okay.”

He knew she didn’t sleep for awhile but she
didn’t say another word.

Cal stared at the ceiling and ran the tips of
his fingers along the skin of her hip and ass until he felt the
weight of her body settle into him.

Then he stared at the ceiling and wondered
why the fuck he was lying in bed talking to Violet and after,
running the tips of his fuckin’ fingers along the skin of her hip
and ass so she’d relax and go to sleep.

Coming up with no answers, he fell
asleep.

* * * * *

Cal heard it, a car on the street, bumping
the curb violently and his body jolted awake.

He opened his eyes, the room was dark and Vi
was a dead weight against his side, her leg curled over his thigh,
arm heavy on his gut, forehead pressed against the side of his
neck.

He listened, the window still open in his
room, and heard a car door slam.

It wouldn’t be Hart. Hart liked to make
statements so Hart wouldn’t do his business in the dark when there
was no one around to notice. And Hart wouldn’t send someone who
would be loud and therefore sloppy.

It had been a long time, years, but Cal knew
what it was, knew it was coming and he knew it because he felt the
acid injected straight into a vein.

Then the banging came at his door.

“Fuck,” he whispered as Violet woke with a
start at his side, her head coming up, her hand lifting to pull her
hair out of her face.

The banging didn’t stop.

“Joe,” she breathed, fear in his name.

His hand went to her jaw, forcing her to look
at him and his head came up from the pillow.

He put his mouth to hers and said, “It’s not
that, baby, it’s okay. Don’t worry. Just stay here, I’ll take care
of it.”

He kissed her lightly then slid out from
under her, grabbed his jeans, yanked them on and buttoned them as
he walked out of his room.

He didn’t need this shit, not ever but mostly
not with Vi in the house. He didn’t want her to see or hear what
was about to happen. Cal couldn’t be sure how the scenario would
play out and in what order but it always played out the same
scenes, it always had a theme and it was never pretty. It used to
happen frequently but it had been so long since the last one, he
thought it was over.

Unfortunately, he was wrong.

He turned on a lamp in his living room, went
to his door and looked out the peephole.

There she was, still banging on the door.

Bonnie.

He unlocked and threw open the door and
Bonnie lurched forward drunkenly, her arm flying out to grab onto
the doorframe to steady herself.

Her head tipped back and he looked down at
her, not shocked at what he saw even though she’d deteriorated
significantly since the last time he saw her. However he was
surprised that the familiar pain he always used to have when he saw
her didn’t slash through his gut.

“Hey Joe,” she slurred as if she’d seen him
only yesterday, twisting her face into a travesty of a come on and
he winced when he heard her say his name.

He didn’t reply and looked beyond her to see
an old, beaten up, faded Nissan Sentra parked on the street in
front of his house. The front wheel was up and over the curb in the
grass between the sidewalk and the road.

Christ, in her state, she’d driven there.

She put her hand on his bare chest.

“Arn choo gonna lemme in, da’lin’?” she
garbled and Cal looked back at her and fought back another
wince.

He stepped away from her touch but grabbed
her upper arm and pulled her in. He positioned her outside the
swing of the door and closed it. This wasn’t easy. She was small,
even smaller now that the drink and drugs had emaciated her body,
but she was out of it. Cal had a lot of practice dealing with
fucked up people, earning it in his days as a bouncer. But Bonnie
was so far gone, she was like a standing ragdoll.

He pulled her into the kitchen, flipping the
switch and the overhead lights came on.

“Damn,” Bonnie complained, her hand flitting
up to cover her eyes, “thas bright.”

Cal positioned her by the counter and let her
go, reaching to the top of the fridge to nab his phonebook.

She leaned into the counter then used it to
hold her up as she slid into him, her hands coming back to his body
at his sides.

“Lez hava drink,” she suggested.

“You don’t need a drink,” Cal told her,
stepping away from her hands, putting the phonebook on the counter
and flipping through it to get to the listings for taxis.

“Always needa drink,” Bonnie mumbled and that
was the God’s honest fucking truth. She always needed a fucking
drink.

He found the number for a local taxi company
and pulled the phone off its charger.

“Whatcha doin’?” she asked, leaning further
into him, taking a drunken step forward when her lean pulled her
off her feet.

“You’re goin’ home.”

“Aww, Joe. I’m ‘ere for you, baby,” she fell
forward further, her face aiming at his chest, her wet mouth slid
along his skin and he fought the sick the touch of her mouth
churned in his gut. “Give you wha’ choo need,” she murmured.

His stomach curled and he wrapped his fingers
around her arm again, pulling her away, setting her at arm’s
length. She leaned heavily against the counter and he took another
step away, out of shot.

She tipped her head back to look at him, her
haggard face sadly confused like she had no idea where she was or
how she got there. Then he watched her work at it and finally focus
on him.

“Joe,” she whispered.

He heard Bonnie say his name and then, in his
head, he heard Violet saying it. Not just when they were fucking,
when they were talking or even when she was pissed at him. No
matter when Vi said it, it hit him, in his dick, his gut, his chest
and it wasn’t in a bad way. He’d thought, until that moment, that
it reminded him of Bonnie but looking at his ex-wife, it wasn’t
that. Whatever it was, it wasn’t about Bonnie, it was all about
Vi.

He stared at Bonnie and saw her hair was long
and partially ratted. The natural blonde had been dyed lighter and
the dye job was bad, so bad it had a weird tint of green in places.
It’d been awhile, though, the roots were showing, lots of them. Her
natural color came through but there was gray in it, like she was
far older than she was and she was only thirty-eight.

He tried to call up what she used to look
like, the girl he’d fallen for but staring down at her, her
freakishly thin body; her gaunt face, the purple-blue under her
eyes, the yellowish tinge under her skin; the lines around her
mouth from smoking too much; and her clothes that were wrinkled,
cheap, maybe even secondhand and far from clean, he couldn’t call
up the Bonnie who used to be.

All he could see, and in that moment, staring
at Bonnie, he could even feel her against his hands, his body, was
Vi. Bonnie was short, five foot five. Vi had to be five eight maybe
pushing five nine. Bonnie had always been thin but she’d had great
tits. Now they were sad and sagging under her worn and faded
camisole that showed way too much of her unhealthy skin. Vi, Cal
knew from what she told him about when she got pregnant with Kate,
was a few years younger than Bonnie but she’d had two kids and
still her body was fucking unbelievable, ample ass and tits, tight
skin, slightly rounded stomach. Even losing her husband, she hadn’t
lost any vibrancy. Vi was a fucking firework compared to the washed
out woman he’d married twenty years ago that was standing in his
kitchen.

Cal looked at her wondering again, even after
years of giving that shit his headspace, after what happened, what
she did, he wondered what drew him to her in the first place. What
made him ignore all the signs and think he could work his ass off
to turn a shit life good for her, for him. As usual, he came up
blank.

Violet, right now naked in his bed, had
lost her husband and had some dickhead making her life a misery and
she was shoveling her walks, calling her daughters “baby”, taking
them to the mall and making them pork chops. Her life had turned to
shit but she was cushioning her girls from that, she was giving
them a nice home in a town where neighbors threw barbeques and her
daughters could catch the eye of the local football hero and listen
to crap boy bands in their bedrooms like normal kids never touched
by tragedy.

She wasn’t drinking, smoking cigarettes and
weed, snorting coke, scoring crack and falling to pieces.

This knowledge hitting him, as usual, he
wanted to get shot of Bonnie but this time it was because he wanted
to get back to Vi.