Bittersweet Chronicles: Pax (6 page)

She nods, seeming to understand what I’m talking about. “What else?”
      I think for a moment. It’s not an answer most guys my age would give, especially to a girl they were locking lips with a few hours before, but for some reason, I don’t feel like I need to be someone I’m not around Carly. Maybe because of all the crap she’s been through, I feel like if anyone would understand the need to have a family, she would.

“I want to fall in love. I want to have a few kids. I want to teach them to play guitar. I want to have family dinners in Portland at my parents’ house and sit with my dad and my uncle and their friends and know that I’m home.”
      She lifts her eyes and looks at me, so many things swirling across her face that I’m not sure what to land on. “That’s a big list.”

I nod. “Yep. But I have to get out of here if I’m going to check some of those things off. And what about you? What big plans do you have, Carly?”

She looks away, her eyes soft in the low light of the storeroom. “When I was younger I used to think that, if I just had a mom, everything in my life would be perfect. My dad wouldn’t gamble, he wouldn’t run out of money to buy food and pay for utilities, I wouldn’t have to be left in the house alone—sometimes for days…”

Her voice fades away for a moment before she clears her throat and continues, her words are coming from the heart and I feel my own heart compress with an ache that becomes a permanent part of me right in this very moment.

“All I want to do in my life is make sure I never leave a child feeling those things I did. If I could, I’d be the mom to every lonely kid on the planet.”

She laughs. “But in lieu of that, I want to be a social worker in the foster care system. No one ever took me away from my dad. I was too careful for that. I never let on to teachers or coaches that things were as bad as they were at my house. But if someone had known, I would like to think that they would have cared enough to get me help, to place me in a home where there was the kind of love I can hear in your voice when you talk about your family.”

I’m struck, as I have been more and more these last two years, by just how fortunate I’ve been in my life. And not because my parents are wealthy or famous, but because they love me. They love me enough to let me go when I said that I needed to. They love me enough to keep hope that I’ll eventually come back to them. I just wish that the love could be separate from the rest—the expectations of others, the name, the fame, the melding of Pax and Walsh.

Carly looks me in the eyes. “I’m so sorry I got you mixed up in this,” she says.

“What? You didn’t get me mixed up in this at all. This bastard who’s after you pulled me into it, and that’s fine because you don’t deserve to face him alone. Also, Vaughn’s one of my oldest, closest friends and I’d do pretty much anything for him and his.”

“You’re too nice, Pax.”

“I don’t mind—“

“No. I’m being serious. You’re too nice. People are going to take advantage of that. You’re too good. Too perfect and gentlemanly and”—she flaps her hand around as if she doesn’t know what other words to use—too
nice
.”

This isn’t the first time someone’s said the same thing to me, but for some reason, coming from Carly, it hurts. A lot.

“You didn’t seem to think I was too nice back at my condo,” I shoot back at her, sounding petty, which is not what I intended.

Her face crumples for a moment, and I realize that she’s delicate, this girl. “I take it back,” she replies all heat and bluster. “You’re kind of an ass.” She stands and stomps off to the other side of the room. It’s about three of her little stomps wide.

I sigh, running a hand through my hair, trying to get my Zen back. “Sorry,” I mumble.

“Excuse me?” she asks, her arms folded and her face turned away from me. She’s like a mad toddler.

Why do I find that so attractive?
      “I said, ‘I’m sorry.’ I didn’t mean that. I’m kind of defensive about the ‘nice’ thing. It’s something I’ve heard my whole life. I’m too nice, too good, too perfect. It’s not true. I’m just me. I have plenty of faults and vices, just like anyone.”

“Okay. I get that.” Her voice is soft, and I realize that, even though she hardly shows it, she’s scared.

I am too, but for her sake, I won’t admit that.

“Carly? I
am
a nice guy, but I’m also a smart one, and I’m not
so
nice that I won’t take a piece out of someone if they’re dangerous. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, okay?” I think I might, in fact, devote myself to making sure nothing bad happens to her. I can think of worse ways to spend my time.

“I can take care of myself.” Her words are tough—her voice isn’t.

“You’ve had to do a lot of that, I’m guessing.” I stand up and brush my sweats off.

It occurs to me that I’m glad I was sleeping on the sofa when all of this went down. If I’d been in my own bed, I’d have gotten kidnapped without a stitch on. That would have been awkward.

Before my imagination can follow that one to some unpleasant conclusions, I hear voices from outside the door. I leap across the small space and throw myself in front of Carly, backing us both against the wall.

The door flies open, slamming against the wall as the asshole I’ve been sparring with off and on for the last week strolls in, flooding the space with light from the hallway.

“Well, looks like wonder boy woke up. Guess I didn’t hit him hard enough.” He chuckles, and his sidekick, the same guy Vaughn threw down with at Carly’s dorm mutters something foul.

I cross my arms in front of me, pressing back against Carly, who is trying to either peer around me or wiggle out of the little cage I’ve trapped her in. I’m a lot taller, so she’s not having much luck.

“Let’s get down to business,” I say, my voice reverberating in the small room. “Your boss thinks Carly’s responsible for her old man’s debts. I disagree, but I’m tired of the hassle. I’ll pay it back. I just need access to a phone and a few hours for the transfer to come through.”

This isn’t how I envisioned the whole thing when I offered to pay off Carly’s debt. I thought I’d give the money to Vaughn and he’d be the one to take care of the handoff. It would make sense—he’s her family, and it’s logical that a family member would come to town and help her out. It also made sense to keep me anonymous, because if these guys know who I am, they might decide I’m a lot more valuable than Carly. But now, I’m forced to be directly involved in the money transfer—something I hope I won’t regret.

I was seven the first time I realized that my family wasn’t like everyone else’s. Around Portland, the guys of Lush and their families were a pretty common sight, so we didn’t get too much unwanted attention. But when Portland became even more crowded, overtaking Seattle as the crown jewel of the Northwest, there were more and more tourists, more and more newcomers, more and more people who didn’t understand that Portland was Lush’s haven, the place where my dad and his best friends could be themselves, have normal lives, and make the music they loved.

Sometime early in second grade, I was out with my dad at a game arcade. My little sister wasn’t even two yet, and she still took up a lot of my mom’s time, so every couple of weeks, Dad would grab me and we’d head out for the afternoon, just the two of us. We’d do all kinds of stuff—go to Studio B and play with the equipment, hit up an arcade, go skating at one of the year-round ice rinks. But no matter what we did, it was always my favorite kind of day. Because I loved my mom and my sister, but Dad was my best friend.

This particular day at the arcade, I’d become fascinated with skee ball. No matter what other games Dad suggested, I wouldn’t leave that skee ball game.

“Pax,” he said, after a couple of hours of it, “I’m glad you love that so much, but little dude, we have to get home before your mom sends Uncle Joss out after us.”

Just then, a big guy with a beard and a baseball cap pulled down low stepped between Dad and me.

“Joss, huh?” he said, his voice sounding raspy. “I was right, then. You are Walsh Clark—big, fancy, rich rock star, yeah?”

I looked around the strange man and saw Dad glance at me. I knew by the look on his face that something wasn’t quite right.

“Yeah, man. I’m Walsh,” he said, giving the guy a tight smile.

The man reached behind him and put a hand on my shoulder before he pulled me out to stand next to him. His hand squeezed my shoulder a little too tight, and I squirmed, trying to get free.

“And this must be your kid,” he said, looking down at me with a menacing grin.

“Hey,” my dad said, reaching into his back pocket. “Can I buy you a beer, maybe some lunch?” He pulled his wallet out and opened it up, showing the guy the money that was inside.

I noticed that he kept looking at the guy’s other hand. Not the one that tightened further on my shoulder until I muttered, “Ouch.”

“Pax?” Dad said, glaring at the guy. “You okay there, buddy?”

I swallowed and nodded, wondering why Dad didn’t just tell this bad man to quit touching me.

“Seriously, man,” Dad said, removing all of his cash and holding it out. “Just take it. There are way too many people around, you won’t get far, and I don’t think you want to hurt him.”

The guy looked at me. I scowled at him. Then he grabbed at the money but didn’t let me go.

“I’ll find you again if you try to stop me,” he growled before he shoved me away and started running through the place, slamming into people as he went.

Dad grabbed me before I could fall and wrapped me in his arms. “Oh my God,” he whispered. “God, Pax, I’m so sorry, buddy. Oh my God. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Dad. I’m okay. But who was that man?”

“Come here, little dude.” He lifted me off the ground and moved at the speed of light to the main counter where the arcade workers were.

Within a few minutes, there were police crawling through the place and Dad was sitting in a back room with me on his lap, telling the story to a guy who’d said that he was a police detective. I still didn’t know everything that had happened, but I did hear my dad say the man had had a gun. The next thing I knew, Uncle Joss was there with Ethan and some more of the security guys Lush used when they had concerts at the big venues. The security guys took us home, where Aunt Mel and Mom were waiting, and there was a lot of crying and people kissing me.

It was lucky that the only attempt to kidnap me was made by a mentally unbalanced dude who hadn’t planned the damn thing at all. The police caught him within a couple of hours, and he was prosecuted for attempted kidnapping, possession of an illegal weapon, and some other minor offenses. But it changed my parents’ outlook on our safety in Portland. It made them realize that, while it might be their hometown, they weren’t just Tammy and Walsh anymore.

Money changes everything, and now, I’m admitting I have access to a great deal of it. Admitting it to the kind of guy who won’t hesitate to use that fact against me in any way he can.

Asshole raises his eyebrows and smirks as he glances at his buddy. “Well, well, well. Mr. Lagazo will be interested in this new twist. Found yourself a sugar daddy, have you, Carly?” he asks, looking at my left shoulder, where I assume Carly is peeking out.

In all of her maneuvering to see around me, her hands have landed on my waist, and I feel her fingers tense as he addresses her. He shouldn’t be allowed to look at her, much less speak to her, and it takes every bit of patience I can muster to keep from flying at him with both fists cocked.

“Think of me as her agent,” I growl. “And address your remarks to me, not my client.”

“Yeah.” He snorts. “Whatever. Let’s go. You can list your
client’s
demands to Mr. Lagazo himself.” He and Sidekick bust out laughing as they move into the hall and gesture for us to follow them.

Once we’re out of the closet, Sidekick leads the way with my least favorite man at our backs. I make sure to keep Carly in front of me, my hand resting on her hip. I feel like I need to stay in physical contact with her. I hate the idea of these guys anywhere near her.

As we leave the small hallway, I find that Carly was right—we’re in a warehouse. The main area is full of wood crates that I’m guessing are not boxes of toys for needy kids. Judging by the size and shape of them, some are guns. I can’t tell what the others are, but I sure wouldn’t be surprised to open one and find drugs.

We’re escorted to the far side of the room where a middle-aged guy in shirtsleeves and cheap, gray slacks is standing, talking on a cell phone while a couple of other minions lounge around smoking. As we get near, dude on the phone, who must be Lagazo, points to the door, and the two jerks with us peel off and leave the building.

I try to maneuver in front of Carly, but she’s wise to my tricks now and moves just as quickly to cut me off. Her little hip is jutted out in front of me, and we’re about to get into a wrestling match over who’s in the position of prominence when I solve the problem by grabbing her hand and jerking her over to my side. Then I throw my arm around her shoulders, pulling her against me.

I hear her hiss out a breath just as Lagazo ends his call. She freezes, and I’m grateful that I have her pinned to me. It’s where I plan to keep her no matter what these guys think they’re doing.

“Carly,” Lagazo rumbles in an unmistakable New Jersey accent. I feel like I’ve fallen into an episode of that old show the Sopranos. “You’ve been giving Martin and Nicky a hard time. That’s not so nice. I thought your old man taught you better.”

The dude has yet to acknowledge me, but I have no intention of being ignored, so before Carly can respond, I speak up. “I told your guys that I have the money to pay off whatever it is you think Carly owes you. I just need to make a phone call and the money will be transferred in a few hours.”

Lagazo examines me, a look bordering disgust on his face. “And who, exactly, are
you
?”

“My name’s Pax and I’m a friend of Carly’s family.”

“Pax.” His voice is emotionless as he says my name. “You really think you can have one hundred K to me in the next few hours?”