28. This Has Gone Too Far
This Has Gone Too Far
MATTHEW
Ihold up the net and curse. This is the third shredded net I’ve found on board.
Crates are overturned and strewn about, and rotting fish litter the deck.
A fucking nightmare.
I should have known whatever’s going on wouldn’t end with Lillian and the message written on her truck. Yesterday, I had to take care of her and make her feel safe again. And that meant staying at my place, closing the blinds, and forgetting the rest of the world.
Yes, we were able to get lost in each other for a while, but the questions lingered and kept me awake late.
I could guess who is behind this, but I bet the reality is much stranger than anything I can conjure in my head. There are plenty of people here who would want Lillian to “fuck off” to California, and only a handful who might be on her side since the barbecue.
Now, though, whoever is responsible for the attack is coming for me too.
Luckily, this isn’t a big city. This is Naknek. It shouldn’t be hard to find out who’s behind this.
I clean up the boat as best I can, ignoring the money leaving my bank account when I think of replacing those nets. And then I head to the scene of yesterday’s crime. My sister’s place. I know Gwen didn’t know something like that would happen. She’s too kind of a soul to be an accomplice.
The parking lot is pretty full this morning which is a blessing and curse. Good for business, but bad for investigating, especially when I’m hopping with anger. But I manage to steady my nerves as I push open the door.
Gwen isn’t here though. It’s Josh behind the counter. No one notices me at first, which is how I catch wind of someone at Lefty’s table muttering, “Won’t take much to get her to go.”
I purse my lips. Fucking idiots. I give Josh a nod, making my presence known with a booming, “Where’s Gwen?”
The whole room shifts.
“She didn’t come in today. Had to stay home with Winnie.”
That’s news to me. “She sick?”
Josh merely shrugs. I should know better than to think I’d get any info from a teenager. “Coffee?”
There’s a creeping feeling down my spine. I scan the coffee shop, realizing there are a lot of eyes on me. “Yeah, coffee. Fine.”
I turn back to the room. “What’s up?” I pose to the room and wait.
All the faces are familiar. Lefty. Finton. Rio. Ian’s here too, but he looks apologetic as hell.
“Someone want to say something?”
Nothing.
“Here’s your coffee,” Josh mutters.
I take it. “Thanks, kid.” I sip it but don’t taste it. “No one’s gonna say anything?”
Still, silence.
I reach into my pocket for some bills.
“No, you don’t have to—” Josh tries to stop me.
But I’m making a point. I don’t bother to check the bills before I slam them down on the counter and glower at my brothers. My fucking brothers. And uncles and fathers. Apparently, we’re only a family when it fucking suits everyone. “Who is going to fucking talk?”
“Relax, mate,” Ian says, trying to keep his voice light. “Don’t need to get your knickers in a twist just because?—”
“Because you are all staring at me after someone trashed my boat? After someone vandalized my—” My what? Who is she to me? “You all know what happened. I don’t need to spell it out.”
Rio looks genuinely shocked. “Your boat was trashed?”
“Happens to the best of us, Matty,” Lefty says, barely containing his snicker.
“Showin’ your whole fucking ass,” I snap in response.
He holds up his hands. “You’ve become an ornery bastard since that girl came into town.”
“She’s not a girl, and she’s here to save?—”
“We don’t need to be saved!” Finton snarls, his stupid, post-pubescent face red as a beet. “Not by some city girl who?—”
I look at Rio and Ian. “Come on, guys, you were there the other night, you know how?—”
“You tried to poison them against us, the way she’s poisoned you?
” Lefty cries out, pushing himself to his feet.
He limps a few steps in my direction. “We’re smarter than that, Benton.
Smarter than you.” He opens his arms up, gathering up the attention of the room like a smarmy politician.
“We’ve all been there. Snowed by a pretty face. ”
I glare at him. I take umbrage with the use of the word “girl,” of the mentions of her beauty, and of anything that devalues who she is beyond her exterior. But it’s a lost argument.
Lefty sticks out a long, crooked finger. “But now, it’s time to wake up.” He pokes me in the chest.
“You trashed my boat, Lefty?”
His eyes bulge, the appearance of innocence absolutely failing him. “Me? No, I’d never. I just understand why someone might be inspired to get you to come to your senses. That’s all.”
“You’re delusional.” I look at Finton, at a few other faces that didn’t come to the barbecue, and at Rio and Ian, who are too spineless to speak up.
“Remember this moment. Seriously. Because this is a turning point. The longer you keep your heads up your asses, the less time you have to fix what’s happening. ”
Lefty shakes his head and turns back to the shop. “Can’t talk to someone not willing to hear.”
“Unbelievable,” I mutter, followed by a dry laugh. “That I’m the one not willing to hear.”
I storm out of the Half-Hitch, not minding the coffee dribbling onto my hand. My blood is boiling anyway. A splash of hot coffee won’t do anything to me.
My brain is a shitstorm of questions with unfulfilled answers: What do I do? I don’t know. Where do I go? Away from here. Who do I have? Lillian.
I have Lillian.
I’ll leave Naknek and go back to Los Angeles with her.
Fuck it. There’s fishing down there. I could work in a cannery if I have to.
I’ll do whatever. But I’m not going to stay here and listen to the chorus of “I told you so” for the rest of my life when it’s me who should be saying, “I told you so.”
It’s me.
I go up to my truck and realize something is off.
In the roil of my brain, I didn’t see it until now.
The door is lower than it usually is. Not by much.
Just enough for me to realize something’s wrong.
I glance down at my front tire. It’s flat.
And not by accident. There’s an obvious slice in the side of the tire.
All the tires have matching slices.
And unlike Lillian, I don’t get scared.
I get angrier.
I prowl around my truck, then around the perimeter of the property, looking for anyone hiding. Snickering kids, devious fishermen, a particularly cunning bear. Whatever it is, whoever it is, I’ll take it on. This has gone too far.
When I get back to my truck, Lefty’s leaving the Half-Hitch with his entourage. He grimaces at the tires. “Yeesh. Bad luck today, huh, buddy?”
I bite the inside of my cheek. Hard. Or else I might throw a punch, and that would be embarrassing for all of us.
Rio comes up beside me, puppy-eyed and quiet. Embarrassed. “Sorry, man. It’s not looking good for your girlfriend.”
I laugh humorlessly. “Yeah, whose fault is that?”
He diverts his eyes before scrambling away.
“Yeah, better fucking run,” I say before whipping out my phone to call a tow.