Chapter 11
Mila
“Before I tell you everything, can you please explain exactly how you got a broken wrist and those bruises?” Frankie asks.
I look over to Sam. “Have you not told him?’
“He’s told me nothing,” Frankie interjects. “I’ve not exactly been his favourite person since I disclosed everything after you left on Sunday.”
“My hero!” I declare and hold up my good palm for a high five. Sam returns my favour from earlier and doesn’t leave me hanging, delivering with his customary wink.
“Fuck me, you two make me wanna vomit.”
“Why? Because our relationship isn’t based on lies and subterfuge?” I hit back.
“Oh, so, it’s a relationship now, is it? You’ve known him, what, six fucking days?”
“It’s…” I trail off, as I still haven’t had time to consider what passed between us earlier.
“It’s something. We need some time to work things out,” Sam adds, saving me having to explain.
“Why did neither of you answer my calls?” I take the conversation off on another tangent and, once again, voice the question as soon as it hits my brain.
“That’s kinda my fault,” Sam admits.
“Not really,” Frankie jumps in. “Look, this is all on me. I should’ve been up front and honest with both of you last weekend. I wasn’t. As soon as you left on Sunday, I told Sammie everything. To say he cracked the shits would be an understatement. We’ve been mates a long time and have never blued like that.” He pauses, lets out a long breath, swigs from his bottle, then continues. “After grabbing me by the throat and shaking me around a bit, he warned me either I told you the truth or he would.”
I wink at Sam, he winks back. Frankie shakes his head while making a gagging sound.
“I wanted to tell you in person, not over the phone. I asked Sam not to speak to you till I could. When you called Monday, I hadn’t come up with a plan.”
“Or Tuesday?”
“No. He was threatening to just drive to Yira and tell you everything.” He gestures with his chin to Sam. “It’s been a shit show, Mils. I’ve felt fucking awful. Lying to you, falling out with him, then you sent those photos this morning, and I couldn’t get out of the meeting I was in fast enough. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. But, yeah, just to add to all of this, Logan’s been a member of the club since it started. He came to the opening night.”
Like earlier, his regret leaches out of him, oozing from his pores, but I’m still too hurt to accept any kind of apology. But with Sam backing his story, I am more inclined to believe his sincerity.
Again, I take a moment to process his words.
“That’s… What? That was before we were married, right?”
“Yeah, two years before you were married. Back then he used to come alone.”
The humming returns to my ears. I close my eyes and brace. “Now he doesn’t?”
“No,” the boys say in unison.
“He brings the same person? Or someone different each time? What?”
“The same person,” Sam says.
“It’s Alice, Mils. Alice O’Leary.”
I feel boneless. That’s the only way I can describe it. Like everything inside me has been sucked out. Like I’m skin and organs, but no bone, fat, or muscle. No sinew or tendons. Nothing to hold me up, support me.
I feel sick, dizzy, and my head hurts. I don’t know if I want to laugh or cry.
Alice.
Alice fucking O’Leary.
Poor, little dull Alice.
I laugh. “Fuck me. I stole him right out from under her, and she stole him right back. I’ve spent years feeling bad for Alice, and… and all this time…” My mouth opens and closes like a goldfish before I finally settle on, “How? When? When does he come to the club? Weeknights, he often gets home late, but most weekends he spends with me. The nights at least.”
“The chopper,” Sam states.
“Where does he tell you he’s going when he takes the chopper?” Frankie asks.
“Out to visit a cattle farm. They own a couple in remote areas of New South, and I think Southern Queensland, too. He takes the chopper at least twice a week. Leaves early, gets home late. After midnight sometimes.”
“Well, I’m not sure what he’s doing during the day, but he lands the chopper on the roof of our building when he comes to the club on a weeknight, and Alice is always with him.”
“That motherfucker.” I probably have no right to feel angry, but I do. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”
“And…” Sam points his finger and circles it forward, gesturing for Frankie to continue.
“And sometimes Scott’s with them.”
I’m not sure what the look is on my face as my eyes dart between both of them. I don’t have words to express how I’m feeling. I was lost earlier, but now? I’d like to say I’m shocked, but I think I’m actually numb.
“You okay?” Sam asks. “This is a lot.”
“I don’t know what I am,” I admit. “My husband’s a member of a sex club he attends with his mistress and his dad.”
“And they both fuck her,” Frankie adds.
“Oh! Fuck! Fuck me!” I straighten and run my fingers through my hair as I draw in a breath, then let it out. I take a long sip of my water. “What the fuck are they putting in the water in Yirabang? I mean, I thought I was fucked up. That what I wanted to do with you two made me a freaky little weirdo, but that… My husband and my father-in-law sharing a woman at a sex club?”
We’re all silent for a long moment. I think Sam and Frankie purposely give me time to compose myself.
“I’m not angry he’s having an affair, or that he regularly visits a sex club. I’m angry at myself for being so stupid. Angry at the hypocrisy of Scott lashing out at Ella the way he did for being gay when he’s…”
“Ella’s finally come out to him?” Frankie questions.
“No, not really, but I think he knows. That’s how I ended up like this.”
“What? Why?”
I give Frankie a quick run through of the events of Monday morning and describe how I sustained my injuries.
“And Logan did nothing? Said nothing?” Frankie asks.
“He told me I shouldn’t have interfered.”
“I’m so fucking sorry, Mils, for all of it. The man’s a fucking pyscho, and your husband’s an absolute fucking coward. Does Scott not realise that everyone knows Ella’s gay? It’s not like it’s a secret. We’ve all known since we were kids, and guess what, nobody gives a rat’s arse. It doesn’t fucking matter.”
“I don’t know what he knows. I thought he was either turning a blind eye to it or was so self-absorbed, he hadn’t noticed. Either way, having a gay daughter doesn’t fit with the perfect family Scott Walsh likes to present to the people of Yirabang. Knowing what I know now, that’s fucking laughable, but I’m actually scared for Ella. He’s either going to get her committed or sectioned, or whatever it is you do to get someone locked up for mental health reasons. Or he’s going to pack her off to one of those reconditioning places where they think they can beat or traumatise the gay out of you.”
“Conversion camps?” Sam offers.
“Something like that. Logan told me she was sick in the head. That Marcie had been brain washing her and making her believe things that aren’t true. He told me they were going to take her somewhere to get her help.”
“Marcie Bonner?” Frankie asks.
“Yeah. I’ve tried calling both of them but got no answer. After seeing the way Scott lashed out on Monday, I’m scared for them.”
Frankie reaches into the suit jacket hanging on the back of the stool next to me and pulls out his phone. He swipes a few times, then makes a call.
“Kenny? It’s Frankie Walsh…” Then he slides open the door leading to the deck before stepping outside and closing it behind him.
When I turn to look at Sam, he’s making his way around the island bench. He doesn’t stop when he reaches me, instead opening my legs and stepping between them.
“You doing okay? Don’t lie to me.”
“I don’t know what I am. Like I said, I have no right to be angry. I manipulated Logan into marrying me when he was all set to marry Alice.” I shrug, shake my head, and let out a breath. I do all the things while trying to come up with the words to best describe exactly how I’m feeling.
“I’ll tell you honestly, Sam… I’m scared. Now knowing the depth of their lies, manipulation, depravity, I’m scared. There’s no way I want to stay in my marriage, but I don’t think he’s going to let me walk away. What if he does to me what they’re trying to do to Ella? And even if he does let me walk, where do I go? What happens to my mum? They own her care home. I can’t afford to move her somewhere else if I could even find somewhere for her to go. I’ve got nothing. Well, a couple thousand in a secret account, but not enough to set me up somewhere new. If it was just me…” My words spill out as rapidly as they enter my head. Tears threaten again, but they’re not from my husband’s or Frankie’s betrayal. They’re borne of frustration at my own blinkered stupidity. I thought I had everything so meticulously planned. I thought I was so fucking clever.
“Stop panicking. We’ve got you. I’ve got you. Frankie’s got you.”
“So, what? I whore myself out to you two?”
“Mila, get fucked.”
My head jerks back at the harshness of his tone.
“No, seriously, don’t fucking insult me. That was me offering you a way out. Not at any stage was I asking for sex in return.”
Despite the anger in his voice, he doesn’t let go of me. I stare at his chest before looking back up to meet his now icy-blue eyes.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. But please try and understand that I come from a world where nothing is free. Nobody does nice things just because. Everybody wants something for something where I come from. Random acts of kindness have rarely existed for me. You know, on Sunday night, I was so worried my husband knew where I’d been all weekend and I would be walking into an ambush when I got home, I deliberately crashed my car to give myself time to work out the situation, to come up with a plan…”
“What the fuck are you talking about, woman? What do you mean you deliberately crashed your car?” Sam cries, high pitched.
“I was scared Logan knew where I’d been. Rather than walking into the ambush I thought was waiting for me, I crashed my car, called him, and thought I’d be able to gauge his mood and see whether he knew. By the way he responded… I don’t know. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“So, you crashed your fucking car? What happened?”
“He turned up with his dad and one of the truckies who works for them. He and Scott were more concerned about any damage I might’ve done to my car than myself. I was standing in the pouring rain, and it was Shane, the tow truck driver, who gave me a jacket to wear and told me to go and wait in the warmth. That’s what I’m used to. That’s the kind of life I’ve led. No one cares about me, and me telling you this isn’t me looking for a handout or sympathy. It’s me explaining why I don’t expect you to step in and help me. We’ve just met. You barely know me.”
“And yet,” he says with a raise of his brows, “you’ve already got me grabbing the throat of my business partner and longtime friend because of the way he treated you.”
He tucks my hair behind my ears as he stares down at me and lets out a long breath. “You’ve had a lot to deal with today, so I’m not gonna push for anything, but what we did earlier, it felt good. It felt right. Doing what I do, the business I run, it’s not conducive to long term relationships, but you’re different. I think you get it and wouldn’t be threatened by my career choices. I think there’s something there, Mila, and whether that involves just you and me or includes Frankie, I wanna explore it. And while we’re doing that, I want to help you in any way I can, whether that be financially, giving you somewhere to live, getting your mum into a new facility. I’m here for it. We both are.”
For the first time today, my heart and my mind calm, and I feel like the breaths that I take fill my lungs the way they’re supposed to. When Sam slides his palms to the sides of my face, brushes his thumbs over my cheeks, and kisses me gently, calm washes through me, as well as a sense that, even though I have no idea how it’s going to happen, everything is going to work out just fine.
“Don’t mind me.You two just carry the fuck on,” Frankie says from somewhere behind us. I hadn’t even heard the sliding doors open. “Is this how it’s gonna be from now on? You two all over each other while I’m left playing with my own dick on the sidelines?”
“You like watching,” Sam replies as he straightens.
My brows rise, and neither of them miss it.
“We have viewing rooms at the club, but we also have a two-way mirrored gantry that only we can access. It means we can look down onto the main floors and see everything. It’s Frankie’s favourite place.”
“Not yours?”
He shrugs. “Yeah, I like to watch.”
“What happens there? Are people just fucking everywhere? People being tied up and flogged?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“Would you like us to take you with us one night?” Frankie asks.
I don’t know why, but I look to Sam. For approval, maybe? He gives a small nod.
“Yeah,” I admit. “I’m curious as to what happens.”
“Lots of things. Pretty much anything goes as long as it’s between consenting adults,” Sam states.
“What does Logan do when he’s there? Just fuck Alice in public, or are they into kinky stuff?”
“He’s a cuck,” Frankie says.
“He watches other men fuck her?” The incredulity is apparent in the tone of my voice. “Does he watch when Scott fucks her? Please tell me they don’t fuck her at the same time?”
They both stare at me with raised brows.
I raise mine right back, unsure why they’re looking at me that way. “What?”
“You know what a cuckold is?” Sam asks.
“Yeah.” Heat spreads from my chest, up my neck, and over my cheeks. “I told you I watched some porn before last weekend. Despite what cockhead here thought about me, until you two, I’d only slept with one man my entire life. And fuck me, you two have been an education as to what I’ve been missing out on.”
“Glad this cockhead could oblige. Oh, feel free to call me Frankie. Are you ever going to let it go?”
“I don’t know. Sam trusts you, so you can’t be all bad.”
“You wound me, Mila. You really know how to hit where it hurts.”
“And where’s that? Because rumour is, you don’t have a heart.” I regret the words instantly.
Frankie’s head jerk backs like I’ve slapped him, and I watch his throat move as he swallows.
“I’m sorry. That was out of line. I apologise.”
“Nah, you’re good. I’m aware of what people think of me.”
“I’m not. I don’t really know anything about you—either of you. How did you two even meet?”
“Uni,” they say in unison.
“We both have engineering degrees,” Sam starts to explain.
“Mate, seriously, I’m starving. Can we eat before we share our life stories?” Frankie whines, cutting him off. “Do you get Uber Eats out here, or are we gonna have to go out and get something?”
“I can cook,” I offer.
“You’ve got one arm,” Sam states. “We’ll order, but it’s after three. Apart from fast food, I’m not sure what’s going to be open.”
Frankie opens the fridge. “You literally bought girly tea bags, shit to make a turkey melt with, and nothing else?”
“I got Abby to drop stuff off earlier but, yeah, I didn’t know we’d be staying this long.” Turning towards me, he asks, “You okay being here, or you need to get back?”
I shrug because I honestly don’t have an answer. “I don’t know what my next move is, but I don’t want Logan knowing before I make it. He hasn’t called all week, but that doesn’t mean he won’t show up at any time.”
“Let’s eat and make a plan,” Frankie says.
“Make a plan? What are we, ten?” Sam asks with a headshake.
“What about fish and chips, children?” I suggest. “I could really do with a walk and some fresh air. I’ve not left the apartment all week, but I’m warning you two now, you’d better stop whinging and be on your best behaviour.”
Half an hour later,we’re sitting at a picnic bench in Portsea eating fish and chips out of paper. Frankie and I raided Sam’s wardrobe for warm clothes to wear before we left. I found a sleeveless puffer jacket, while Frankie had gone for an entire outfit of trackies, tee, hoodie, and runners. I also borrowed a ball cap and wore that, along with my sunnies, in an attempt at hide my bruises.
As well as a piece of fish, I ordered a sausage in batter because I was feeling extra hungry. The boys bet me I wouldn’t eat it all and are now watching on as I finish my last mouthful before washing it down with a bottle of water.
“I’ve barely eaten since Sunday, and I didn’t eat much over the weekend,” I explain.
I get grins and headshakes in return from both of them.
“What?” I question.
“Nothing,” says Sam. “We just like watching you eat sausage.” He winks.
“Now who’s acting ten?” I question, noticing Frankie’s still smiling my way. “What are you looking at?”
“The food and fresh air have put some colour in your cheeks. You look cute.”
“Despite the bruises?”
“Despite the bruises, Mils. Look, I know you took the piss out of me earlier, but seriously, we need to talk about Logan and Scott, and what your next move’s gonna be, because I’m not happy about you going back to live with them.”
“Believe me, the last place I want to be is anywhere near them two, but until I can work out my next move, I don’t really have an option.”
“You’ve got us. We’re your option,” Sam offers.
“And can I just add,” Frankie interrupts. “I know how this started between us, but whether you want to continue that with just Sam, both of us, or neither of us, our offer of help remains, regardless.”
His sincerity warms me, and a pang of guilt hits at how harsh I’ve been on him all day.
“Thank you. What do you suggest? What would you two do?” I ask, looking between them.
“Put a bullet in both their brains,” Sam says as he collects up the paper our late lunch came in, along with our empty water bottles, and stands to put them in the nearby bin.
“That’d be a waste of two bullets,” Frankie states. “Look, Mils, I know I haven’t given you much reason to, but if I asked you to trust me, to trust us, to put a plan together to not only get you out of this marriage, but for you to be able to do it in a way that means you don’t walk away empty handed, would you allow us to do that?”
My first thought isn’t yes or no. My first thought is, “How?”
“I’ve no fucking idea yet but let me get our team on it.”
“Your team? Who the fuck are you two? I honestly feel like I’ve stepped into another dimension today.”
“Sometimes,” Sam says as he sits back down, “we have people apply to join the club we’re not too sure about. Sometimes a member appears perfectly acceptable on their application, but then one of us or a member of our staff gets a gut feeling, and we have to do some research.”
“Like private investigator research? Is that what you meant when you said you did some digging on Logan?”
“We have a team,” Frankie takes over again. “A team of experts whose methods and tactics might not always be…”
“Legit? Kosha? What?”
“Yeah,” Sam states. “Some people go to a lot of trouble to hide who they really are. They don’t always use legal methods to do that, so we have to apply the same methods to get to the truth.”
“Our team is a mixture of private investigators, forensic accountants, computer experts, and a few other unclassified roles,” Frankie explains. “If you can give us a bit of time, let us see what we can come up with, I promise, we’ll find you a way out. At the same time, we can hopefully bring down Scott and Logan’s reign of terror.”
“Can you help Ella and Marcie?”
“Already on it. The call I made earlier was to Kenny, Marcie’s brother. Logan slapped her about a bit, sacked her, and threatened to make up all sorts of allegations of theft from the business if she didn’t stay the fuck away from Ella. So, she’s gone up to Far North Queensland to stay with some family. Kenny’s gonna talk to her tonight, give her my number, and she’ll hopefully get back to me with what she knows regarding Ella’s whereabouts. Meanwhile, our team is doing what it can.”
“We’ll find out, Mils, don’t worry,” Sam assures me, and I believe him.
Despite my earlier issues with Frankie, I honestly think these two are like a pair of hot as fuck, sex club-owning superheroes. Captain Cum and The Scowler! Saving the world, multiple orgasms at a time.
“Okay,” I say with a forced grin.
“It might mean you go back to him for a while. We don’t want to alert him that we’re up to anything, so you might have to sit tight for a bit. Can you do that?” Sam asks.
“Do you promise to look after my mum, even if you can’t get anything extra for me out of a divorce?”
“Promise,” they both say.
After a walk along the Portsea Pier to watch the sunset, we head back to the car. We drove here in Sam’s car, and as he climbs into the driver’s seat, Frankie opens the back passenger side door for me.
“Mils, you do know I’m sorry, right?”
I pause and look up at him on one side of the door, me on the other. “I do,” I admit. “But I’m still hurt.”
“I get that, but please don’t think you can’t trust me. My entire fucking life has been overshadowed by Scott Walsh in some fucking way. He’s never paid for what he tried to do to my mum, or for the way he’s always treated us. And now, knowing the truth about you, the life you’ve led with them, the way they’ve tried to set you up, the fact Scott put his hands on you, and your husband… your fucking husband who didn’t even attempt to defend you.” He closes his eyes and shakes his head.
I reach up and cover his hand resting on the top of the car door.
His eyes open and meet mine. “For you, my mum, for Ella, I’m gonna bring them down.”
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
He reaches out and brushes his thumb gently over the bruised side of my face. “Just so you know, I’ve got people watching Logan, so if you wanna stay with Sammie tonight, I’ll get notified if he leaves Yira, which is where he is now.”
Warmth moves through my belly at his words, and again, a tiny arrow of guilt hits it’s mark as I note how he excluded himself from the equation. I ignore all of that and ask, “You’re having him watched?”
“Yep, I made a call after I spoke to Kenny Bonner and put someone on him and Scott.”
“Why, what do you think they’re going to do?”
“Who fucking knows, but I didn’t want them turning up at your apartment while you’re here with us. I hate that I’ve got to send you back to him, but we’re going to need some time.”
“Again, I get it.”
“You’re very compliant this evening. I’m surprised given the fact you were considering all the ways you wanted to kill me earlier.”
“I’m tired. Today’s been a lot. I’m sick of drama—of conflict. I’m over being used as a pawn in your family’s games. Like you, I just want this to be over. I want to get away from Logan, his family. I’m just done.”
“So, when you say his family, does that include me?” He tilts his head, looking young, vulnerable, and so much unlike the only Frankie Walsh I’ve ever known.
“I don’t know, Frankie. Today has given me a lot to think about. Right now, all I want is a shower, some warm pyjamas, and a cup of girly tea.”
“Let’s get you home for all that, then.”