Page 37 of Two/Face

“What happened? The captain wouldn’t tell me over the phone.” Her eyes plead with mine.

“We don’t know who it was, but he was shot in a drive-by.” I hate lying to Maggie, but I can’t give too much away for now. She’ll ask questions and demand answers.

Her shoulders sag, turning her attention back to Strode. Her thumb gently brushing over his hand as she speaks.

“I always worried when he was at work. The job is so dangerous, especially here.” Wiping away a tear, she continues. “Probably why our marriage failed. I was always so worried. I hoped he would eventually retire.”

“Strode’s stubborn Maggie, we both know that.” A small chuckle escapes her throat as she nods at my comment.

“Oh, Al, what have you gotten yourself into?” She gently shakes her head.

After a moment passes, I decide it’s the best time to leave. Rising from my chair, Maggie turns to me. Her soft gaze holding mine.

“Dare I ask if you’ve found a nice you lady yet, Bhodi?” The words are warm and kind, something I’m still quite unfamiliar with.

I shrug, turning towards the door. Throwing her a quick smile over my shoulder, I lace my fingers around the door handle before turning back.

“Maybe, just seeing how it goes.”

As her eyes widen with joy, I exit the room. I feel her gaze follow me until she can no longer see me. But her question is playing on my mind, heading for my car. I know exactly where I want to be, but it’s the one place I need to fucking stay away from.

Sliding into my car, I breathe a sigh of relief when I see there are no messages or calls. For once in my life, I have nowhere to be or no one trying to get hold of me. The feeling makes me feel uneasy, but these last few months have been non-stop. I can feel my body beginning to cry out for sleep, but I know that’s not a good idea.

Pulling out of the parking lot, the traffic is heavy as usual. Taking a different route, I soon realize where I’m heading. Refusing to stop myself, I head for Summer’s. As her apartment nears, I begin to feel the weight of her reaction weighing me down. I wouldn’t blame her if she slammed the door in my face. I haven’t spoken to her since I left hers the other morning and I didn’t speak much whilst I was there.

Once I’d killed Alex, I needed to be close to her, feel her body pressed into mine. I wanted to hear those soft moans as she bounced all over my cock, feel how her body reacts to me, the way her nails marked my skin. I wanted to feel less of a heartless monster. I wanted to feel human again, and, in that moment, she gave that to me.

And like the heartless prick I am, I just left once I was done. Letting out a frustrated huff, I run my hand over my face. With everything happening in such a short space of time, I feel my loss of control becoming a serious fucking problem.

As the approaching lights turn red, my car eventually stops. Watching the passing traffic, I try to focus on the next couple of days ahead. I know the funeral is tomorrow, and I have every intention of escorting Summer there and not letting her out of my sight, even if going to church makes my skin want to crawl off my body. People like me no longer have any faith. I lost that a very long time ago.

Just because Alex is gone doesn’t mean Harry can’t get to someone else just as easily. He has money, and there’s little people won’t do for cash if it’s waved in their faces. I know he’ll show up tomorrow. He wants Summer to know he’s still around even if he hasn’t done anything yet. He enjoys knowing she’s always looking over her shoulder and living in fear that he can pounce at any time.

Murdering her father could have been a way for him to gain further control over her. I know it was him, via Luca, but there’s still no proof. Harry knows that that’s why he had no concerns about coming to New York. He’s not afraid of being caught, he’s paid for the best, and that’s what he got. But he stupidly forgets how New York can swallow people like him.

Once the lights turn green, I slam the car into drive and speed off, my patience wearing thin. A few cars bounce on their horns, but I ignore it. They’re clearly not on their way to see Summer, so they’ll never understand the pull she has over me.

Summer?

Sitting on the end of the bed, I stare up at the black dress hanging on my closet door. After a week of turbulent hell, the funeral is tomorrow. It feels too soon, and everything feels like a blur, but James advised it was likely best to plan the funeral as soon as possible, else I could be here for a lot longer than anticipated.

I know he could sense my hesitation about staying, so he managed to speak with the police captain and medical examiner, and they agreed to release my dad’s body for cremation. For a few days, I felt an unbearable guilt, like I was trying to get everything over and done as soon as possible, but that wasn’t the case. The thought of my dad sitting in some cold fridge for longer than needed seemed cruel, even though I know his soul is now elsewhere.

Last night, I had a horrible nightmare. I was standing in the morgue surrounded by fridges. There was a loud, sharp banging that came from one of the doors, but when I approached, the knocking moved to another door, and then another. Pained screams followed, moving around different fridges. Each time I turned around, the noise moved to the opposite one. I could feel the terror in my body. I know it was a dream, but I couldn’t seem to force myself awake and pull myself away from the horror. On the final turn, I saw Harry standing in front of me, his suit covered in blood. As he held a knife towards me, his lips turned upwards into a sinister smile, and his eyes were hollow and dead.

As he drove the knife into me, I could hear his crazed laugh echoing off the metal doors. I woke up in bed, sitting bolt upright and covered in cold sweat. My heart thundering in my chest. My eyes flashed around the empty room, and at that moment, I hoped to see him. The dark reaper that keeps me safe.

Pulling my large grey hoodie over my head, I step into my warm slippers. With the funeral approaching, I have no intention of going out today. If anything, I want to lay on the sofa, eat pizza, drink wine, and cry until the sun comes up. There’s a heavy sadness hanging over this apartment today. For a moment, I could swear I heard my dad talking to me. I followed the voice and could smell his cologne in the empty kitchen.

I pull out a stool and lean against the marble island, shutting my eyes. The memories of cooking in the kitchen flooded my mind. Dad insisted he taught me how to cook and look after myself. The first dish I ever made was a Spaghetti Bolognaise, and I can still see the shock on his face as he took a spoonful, his face contorted almost in pain when he realized, I’d added a whole bottle of cooking wine.

Being a teenager, I assumed I knew better. I glanced over the recipe and that was about it. I misread one glass for one bottle and didn’t even use a good wine. My god, it tasted terrible. We fell about laughing and ended up ordering a pizza. We ate it over the kitchen island as he quizzed me on my future career choices.

The conversation felt alien to me; Mom had never been interested in a career of any type. She had Eric, and he was rich, so why the hell would she work? But I could still see my dad wanted me to have good values, and he was right. He wanted me to be a respectable member of society who worked, contributed and never relied on a man to care of me. He guided me towards college, which I enjoyed, and I gained my degree in business, but soon after I met Harry, any career plans seemed difficult for me. Trying to maintain peace. I never pushed it.

What a fucking waste.

Leaning my elbows into the marble, my chin rests in my hands whilst I focus on the ticking of the large clock above the oven.

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