Page 40 of Reaching Hearts

Chapter Twenty-Two

Tommy

Third red light: blown. Pedal: in danger of breaking through the floor of my BMW. When: the night of the robbery.

I have to make it to the Golden Gate Bridge. I have to get to my parent’s house. They’ll know what to do. I punch the dashboard with my fist, the silver bull of my ring flashing red from the stoplight’s glare. “Shit! Motherfucker! FUCK!”

The pain in my left shoulder is insane, shooting over my chest, down my arm, and up into my skull. The inside of my leather jacket is stuck to my bloody shirt and the hole is irreparable. That fucking bitch shot a hole in my jacket. How’d she get the gun away from me? How did I not shoot her like I wanted to? Brendan sure did surprise me this time, no doubt about that. Mr. Hero taking a bullet for Lady Goth? I never would have seen that coming. Fuck her, yes… she’s gotten hot since college, but take a bullet for the bitch? Never would I have guessed he would have done something like that.

I slam my fist on the dash again, to stave off the pain. “FUCK!! This fucking HURTS!!”

I don’t know what I’m going to tell my dad. That I got taken by a girl? There is no way I can tell him that. It’s bad enough I pulled the trigger. We don’t take the shot unless we have to. That’s not what we do and I know this. I’ve been doing this shit with my family my whole life and murder ain’t part of the game.

It wasn’t my time. I had another six months before the planned date and that was going to be of a place in Tiburon – a residence, some billionaire’s place Dad had scoped out that was perfect.

We only do residences. It’s been that way ever since Dad and his buddy got into that mess with the bank robbery when they were kids. Not only that, but Le Barré is in my neighborhood. You don’t shit where you eat. But I couldn’t help myself. I was leaving Tamara’s apartment and she’d said the words that fucked up my whole life: “Have you checked out that new bar, yet?”

“What bar?” I’d said, without much interest, sure she was just stalling to keep me around so she could trick me into sleeping over. She always tried that – and it was never gonna happen. Not with a whore like Tamara.

She leaned against the door of her puny apartment, her dress all crinkled from our fuck-fest. “A couple doors over. You’ll love it. Really. You should check it out. Really cool, dark vibe. Just like you.”

She got me there. That was what did it. Fucking flattery. “Yeah? Alright, I’ll check it out. I’ll see ya, babe.”

“Anytime you want to, Tommy,” she said to my back as I headed for the crotchety staircase.

She lived in a hovel above a small liquor store, her apartment dirty, and overdone with scarves on tables and lamps like an old bordello. But I didn’t have to pay for the sex. Tamara gave it away. She’d probably live somewhere nicer if she’d just face the music of who she is, and start charging people. No one was gonna do what she wanted, which was to take her away from all of this and make a wife and mother of her. Fucking women. They’re so fucking stupid.

Except for Rebecca. She’s different. Classy. Smart. And she’s got that look behind her eyes that says she could join the life I lead if she just had the right door in.

I want her and Brendan is the only thing in my way.

I was thinking about Rebecca – that ass, those legs, those almond-shaped baby browns of hers – when I walked up to the new bar, to check it out just for the hell of it. I looked in the window and couldn’t believe what I was looking at. Brendan was inside and with him, some redhead he was feeling-up. I almost knocked on the window, but I hesitated and looked closer, drawn in by something familiar about the chick’s face. She’d changed, but that was her; that crazy Goth chick from State. I never forget a face. I let Brendan think – just like I let my father think – that my memory is shit, that I’m stupider than I am.

I’m not even close to stupid. And I remember everything.

I remember every time Brendan shot me down with a look I ignored just to piss him off more. I remember how he took my place the second he and Sara broke it off, moving in with Mark and locking me out of their little twosome. I remember how he tried to make sure I didn’t get hired at the agency, how Margaret made it happen thanks to my showing her a good time behind her husband’s back on more than one occasion. Brendan had no right to keep me from that job. I’m smarter than he is. I’m better at the job. I’ve got better ideas, and he always makes sure no one listens to them.

And I sure as shit remember every time that little Goth bitch shot me a look of death back then, like she knew me or something. We never even had a conversation. She didn’t know me. She had no right to look at me like that.

Staring at them, my blood heated up. I stepped back from the window and walked off to the side to consider what I was thinking. Could I end this, once and for all? I could be the shoulder Rebecca would cry on. I could wait an appropriate amount of time, and then take over as Creative Director with Brendan gone, too. I’m the next in line and he’s already feeling the heat of my breath on his back at meetings. I could even take his room in the penthouse, get close with Mark again. It used to be just me, Mark and Ross – who was always an easy guy to be around because he never tried to ride shotgun in life. He was high most of the time and cool with sticking to the backseat. I wonder what happened to him?

I paced the sidewalk and headed back to my car. I had my gun in the glove compartment like always. Hitting the keychain, I unlocked the doors and slid in, staring up the street, eyes locked on Le Barré’s door. Twisting in my seat slowly, I scanned the block. No one was out anymore. The bars had all closed.

Could I do this?

It was asking myself the question that answered it. Why am I even questioning IF I could? I can do anything I fucking want to. I’d be free. I’d have nothing between me and the things I want.

I reached into my glove compartment and pulled out the gun and mask. Then I practiced a few times lowering my voice to make it unrecognizable and figured if he recognized me, the dead can’t be called as a witness. Which meant one thing. They would both have to go. I’d make it look like a robbery. Get some money while I was at it. Money I could take Rebecca out with, secretly knowing the whole time where it came from. The thought put a smile on my soul that didn’t get wiped off until Brendan jumped in front of the bullet and threw everything to shit.

I hadn’t seen that coming. I planned to get her first, then him. The surprise was just enough for that fucking bitch to pull some martial art bullshit and change the game.

My BMW, silver and fast, blends and slices through the fog racing over the Golden Gate, with lights dimmed. I need medical attention and I need it now. Searing agony is blurring my vision badly. I’m fighting to stay focused, using the planning of multiple routes of escape from police to help me stay awake. I roll down the windows to let the fog in…and to let it out of my head.

I’m almost there.

Almost there.

Just a little bit longer.