Ben couldn't have ratted me out... he had been nothing if not honest with me in all aspects of our relationship. He'd been a good and faithful friend. On the other hand, I'd told him of my intentions. It couldn't have been coincidence that Natasha was sitting in a cell as I contemplated Ben's guilt.
As if summoned by my wary disbelief, Ben’s ringtone filled the loaded silence. Both Jose and Vitor sent me a look of suspicion. Not sure what else I could do aside from ignoring it and potentially causing them to suspect me more, I answered it with a tentative “Hey.”
“I’d ask if this is a bad time, but I don’t really give a rat’s ass.”
I scoffed into the phone, peeved that it was Vincent calling from Ben’s phone.
“What do you want?”
It seemed like eons passed before he finally replied. Throughout his silence I wished that he would just spit it out. But the moment my wish came true, I found myself wishing I could take it back.
“It’s decision time.”
I opened my mouth to ask him what kind of decision I was supposed to be making, but didn’t get the chance to ask. The line went dead. I kept my phone against my cheek even after I realized he hung up on me. Part of me figured that if I didn’t move I could maybe suspend the moment and delay what was obviously inevitable.
Eventually the hand holding my phone dropped to my side as I stared blankly at the carpet. Why did everything have to be so complicated? Why did it all rest on me?
“Was that your skinny ass cop friend? If it was, you should have told him that I plan to end him for getting my sister arrested.”
Jose’s phone rang, stopping any reply I might’ve given. His features looked troubled as he eyeballed the caller id, and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed nervously.
“Que paso?”
He was quiet while the person on the other end talked. I couldn’t decipher the words, but the voice was very much male. A few times throughout the one sided conversation he tried to comment, but the caller was clearly unwilling to give Jose a word in edge wise.
By the time it ended, the tension was so thick you could cut it with a butter knife.
“That was our resident backstabbing district attorney.”
We waited in silence for Jose to elaborate, but he wasn’t exactly forthcoming about the nature of his conversation. After a few seconds of suspense, I could bear it no longer. Vincent’s call was still heavy on my mind.
“Well? What’d the asshole want?”
Jose looked me dead in the eyes and it was like everyone else faded away.
“You.”
I’m not sure exactly why, but I laughed. Maybe it was because I couldn’t figure out how else to react. Maybe it was because part of me had known all along that I would have to make some kind of sacrifice for the greater good. Either way, I couldn’t stop, not even when Daniel said my name. I continued to laugh like a mad woman until Alex wrapped his arms around me protectively.
“Why the hell would we just hand her over? Vitor’s program was installed at both locations and once he removes the right info, that bastard will have his work cut out for him. Who’s to say the physical files we missed will be there long enough for him to make copies?”
I turned away from Alex, curious to know the answer and how it fit into the grand scheme of things.
“He’s suggested a trade.”
“What kind of trade?”
“Natasha for you.”
Alex let out a string of curses. “Why would we risk another deal gone bad just to exchange one person for another?”
“One person? One. Person?” Vitor was practically purple, he was so livid. “That ‘one person’ is my sister! If your little temptress didn’t have the two of you running after her like two pathetic puppies eager to protect their mistress, Tasha would be safe and we wouldn’t be having this conversation!”
“Watch it.” Alex warned. “I’m not saying Tasha isn’t important. I’m just saying the risk is too great.”
“I bet you’d be singing a different tune if my sister were free and your whorish-”
Alex’s fist connected with his cheek, cutting off Vitor's colorful diatribe. The punch was returned almost immediately, the resulting grunt bringing a smile to Vitor’s face. My heart lurched at the blood trickling from the side of Alex's mouth, but the man himself was otherwise unfazed. He spit his blood onto Vitor’s shoes and all hell broke loose. As much his insult angered me, the last thing I wanted was for them to fight.
I glanced over at Jose and Daniel, grimacing when I noticed how bad Daniel looked. He was in no shape to break up a fight. Sometime during the hour since we’d broken up the first fight, his eye had finished swelling shut, leaving Jose the only able body to try and separate the two men. To make matters worse, there was no way Jose could take Vitor. Not even close. Alex had barely been able to pull Vitor off of Daniel, and proportionally speaking, Jose was smaller all around.
The fight was getting a bit brutal and I knew what I had to do to break it up.
“I’ll do it!”
I thought I’d have to repeat myself a few times before anyone would pay attention, but Vitor heeded my words immediately. He paused mid-swing which was just long enough for Alex to throw in one more punch. Jose, seeing the very small window to break up the fight single handedly, took the opportunity to pull him away from Vitor.
“Over my dead body.” Alex spit bloody saliva into the nearby trash can, swiping the back of his hand over his split lip.
“Don’t tempt me.”
Alex tensed like he was ready to charge and I moved to stop him as quickly as my feet would allow me. Although neither of us could stop the two from fighting if they truly wished it, Jose and I each stood as an obstacle before each of our targets.
“When and where is the exchange?” I asked Jose without taking my eyes off of Alex.
“Tomorrow evening, six o’clock at the abandoned hotel on the east end of town.”
“Tell him I’ll be there.”
“Adri-”
“All I ask in exchange,” I added, “is proof that the majority of our thrown cases are wiped from our record.”
I looked pointedly at Vitor, who gave me a flippant nod of his head. Satisfied, I turned to Daniel. He was sitting there, still as a gargoyle, watching it all go down with his good eye.
“You good? Or…”
His eye dropped down to my hand, which had somehow made it into Alex’s. It narrowed briefly before settling on my face.
“I’m fine.”
I tried to slip my hand from Alex’s, but his grip only tightened. Giving him a pointed look, I did my best to convey with my eyes that it wasn’t for Daniel specifically, but for Vitor as well that I refused to hold his hand. The man was already pissed and I could only imagine his fury if he took notice of the closeness that was unusual even for us. We could deny a relationship beyond friendship without lying, but with Natasha still in jail, I didn’t expect him to be rational.
Alex, after an extra little squeeze, let go and I gave Daniel an encouraging smile – anything to insure that he’d keep his mouth shut. Daniel looked at me suspiciously, before he finally got up and came to me. With no warning whatsoever, he lowered his head to mine and kissed me. I could taste the metallic tang of his blood as his lips moved over mine and as his tongue quickly darted into my mouth.
I couldn’t pull away. Yes, I was physically capable, but couldn't because I knew something Daniel didn’t. The kiss was the price for his silence. So long as he thought I’d chosen him in the end, he’d stay quiet. That thought and that thought alone, gave me the will to kiss him back. His hands moved over my body possessively and though it didn’t pain me, it certainly wasn’t pleasant. After a time, I pulled away and patted his chest.
“Get that eye checked out,” I scolded, trying to sound concerned.
He gave me a small smile and a grimace before nodding his assent. I said one more goodbye for good measure and kept my pace casual until I was safely in Alex’s car. The car ride home was a silent one as we both brooded.
Halfway there, I realized that I had no more clothes. As it was, I was wearing the same pants and underwear as yesterday and the shirt I was wearing was actually Natasha’s. If the idea of wearing the same undergarments for a third day in a row didn’t repulse me, wearing more of Natasha’s clothes did. In light of the recent events it just felt wrong. It was reason enough to ask Alex to take me to Ben’s.
He didn’t even spare me a glance. “Sure.”
We lapsed back into thoughtful silence. It wasn't awkward, but it still managed to feel wrong. The look on Alex's face told me that it was the calm before the storm. He was brooding, most likely angry that I was willing to trade places with Natasha. Under regular circumstances, he'd have no reason to brood, but knowing what I knew made the trade proposition impossible to ignore.
When we were parked in Ben’s driveway, the weight of my decision was just starting to sink in. This time tomorrow, I could be dead or in jail. It all depended on the ulterior motives of the district attorney.
“I’ll see you later.”
“You’re not staying here.”
His tone almost sounded informative. It brooked no argument. Mostly, it just annoyed me. Despite the fact that I really didn’t want to fight with him, it was obvious by the look on his face that he didn’t share those sentiments. He was telling me what to do, because he knew I hated it.
I scoffed. “Sure I am. I’ll get Ben to give me a ride to the house later.”
“No.”
Damned if he didn’t give me the one word just because he knew I’d have to argue.
“Alex,” Avoiding confrontation had never exactly been my strong suit, and I tried my best to curb my temper by counting backward from ten. Whoever said that shit worked was lying. Counting seemed like a waste of time and only served to annoy me more. “If you’re itching for a fight, I am not going to waste a minute of my last 28 hours of freedom arguing with you. I’m going to go inside, take a shower, change my clothes and pack a set for tomorrow. Then I’m going to talk to Ben to see if he’s heard anything and once we’re done talking I’ll ask him for a ride. During that time, you can get yourself cleaned up.”
He gave me a dark look that made my blood thrum and my annoyance fade. Why did I have to enjoy arguing so much? It couldn't be healthy or even normal on any level.
“You can take a shower at the house. I’m going to wait here for five minutes and if you don’t come out with your change of clothes, I’ll come get you myself. I’m itching for a fight, but I refuse to have one in the car in front of Ben’s house.”
“Then you’re going to have to come get me.”
I got out of Alex’s car and slammed the door shut knowing that it was his pet peeve. Ben was already opening the front door when I reached it.
“I thought I heard the rumble of an engine out here. Is that Alex?”
When Ben stepped past me to talk to Alex, I don’t know what came over me. I reached for his hand and jerked him in my direction. Ben gave me a confused look as I dragged him toward the house, glancing over his shoulder even as he let me lead him.
Alex turned his car off and I pulled Ben a little harder, quickly closing the door behind me. The knock on the door made Ben chuckle. “Are you guys fighting again?”
“Leave him out there,” I grumbled.
“And have him break into my house like we both know he’s capable of? No thank you, I like my windows in one piece.”
He reached around me to open the door and I took off toward my borrowed room. Alex caught up to me easily enough, turning me around to face him.
“Hi to you too,” Ben called from near the door.
“We can have it out here or we can have it out at home. It’s your choice.”
Fists clenched, blood boiling, I put some distance between us. I hated losing arguments. “Fine, but I’m taking my shower here. His bathroom is better.”
I sounded like a petulant child, but sometimes Alex just had that effect on me. Enthusiastic to retreat from the heat of Alex's gaze and the understanding in Ben's, I power walked the remaining distance to my desination and closed the bedroom door behind me. Grabbing the duffle bag that I’d never bothered to unpack, I lugged it into the bathroom. I took the world’s longest shower, determined to enjoy it since it could very well be my last.
I dressed quickly and applied my favorite eyeliner before hefting my duffle over my shoulder and surveying the room one last time. My gaze lingered on the gigantic pillow top mattress, my body instantly recalling its softness. I turned away, ignoring the temptation to run away so I could continue to experience the wonderful ammenities of life. For once in my life, I wouldn't be selfish. I couldn't afford to be, especially with Vincent’s threat hanging above me like the blade of a guillotine. The needs of the many outweighed the needs of a few, specifically me. I repeated that a few times to myself, but the longer I thought about it the less I wanted leave everything behind.
My feet dragged as I trudged down the hall, finding every excuse to delay leaving Ben’s house. The closer I got to leaving, the more real everything felt. I stopped in the hallway to admire the photos Ben had finally put up. A few were of his parents, their smiling faces bringing a smile to mine. It also a heaviness to my heart. While I was highly qualified to commentate on poor choices, having had a 24 year long stint of bad decisions, I was hardly the best person to chastize them for them. When it all boiled down, they were amazing people with big hearts. They had shown me love and affection when I needed it most. In my mind his father would never be a crooked cop and his mother would never be a dirty district attorney.
My gaze drifted to the series of photos that followed. One photo in particular made me laugh. It was another from our childhood. We were eight at the time. I only remembered because it was the Halloween Ben had gone as a cop. That by itself wasn’t funny, but considering the fact that Alex and I were dressed as robbers… I shook my head. If our parents had known how accurate a snapshot that was, I imagined they’d have encouraged me to dress up as something else.
I was still smiling when I moved on to the next picture. It was of a man I knew for a fact that I didn’t know, but at the same time I was struck by the familiarity of his face. He sat in an executive computer chair with his feet propped up on the corner of large, cheaply made desk and his arms behind his head as he pretended to lounge away the day. The photo looked about as old as me, the old school policeman’s uniform and the yellow tint was a clue to its age. I don’t know why I paid any attention to the open door on the side of the photo, but the words made me nauseous.
Painted in huge white letters plain as day, the door read, “Lorenzo Moretti, Police Chief”.
I pulled the picture off the wall, convinced I read it wrong. When I gave it a second read and the words ‘Police Chief’ didn’t miraculously change, I stared at the smiling police officer again. If he was who I thought he was, I had just accidentally found a photo of my little sister’s father.