SIXTEEN
Sleep is like tar. It drags me back again and again to the deepest part of the pit and does its level best to swallow me up. It’s not an unpleasant feeling. I’m warm, surrounded, and safe, but there’s something shaking me. It’s encouraging me to escape the blackness and the forgetting. I try not to listen, reaching out to embrace oblivion and inviting it to pull me under, but the urgency trembles and nudges, causing prickles of awareness to wake me.
I’m shaking. No…I’m vibrating.
The phone!
I roll away from the warm mass of bed covers and yank my phone out of the leg pocket. There are two missed calls. I’m just about to see who from when I remember TJ has my other phone. Are they in trouble, or is he just playing? Please let him be playing.
As I’m about to dial him back, the phone almost leaps from my hands as it vibrates again. A mass on the bed moves, rolling away with a huff.
“TJ?”
“Juju. Daddy’s being bad again.”
“What? Did Daddy find you? Where’s Mummy?”
“She’s crying, Juju. He’s making her cry really loud.” He means screaming. Fuck. What happened? Where the hell is Carlo? Is she even with Carlo? Did I get it all wrong?
“Are Casey and AJ with you? Are you in the safe space?” We built a fort in their closet years ago so that they had a place to hide when Dad was rampaging. I can only hope they all made it there before calling me.
“We are in our room. AJ is shaking, but Casey is at Daddy Ca-lo’s house.” Daddy Carlo? How well do the boys know him? A loud crack echoes down the line, punctuated by a muffled thump.
“Are you okay?”
TJ’s voice trembles as he fights to get the words out. “Y…yes. Hurry Juju.” It must be bad. Mum fucked up big time going back there tonight. I can’t even understand why she’d go home.
“Okay. I’m on my way. Stay hidden.” I cut the call and search the room for my backpack and shoes. My stained sneakers are neatly positioned at the bottom of the bed. It takes me another crucial second to realise I’m still at the hospital. Dax is most definitely the lump on the bed and Aiden naps in an uncomfortable-looking armchair across from us, next to the door.
Do I wake them and ask for yet another favour? No. Dad will only escalate if I bring either of these men to his door again. If I can slip in and get the kids out…or play a distraction for a few minutes…Damn it, I’m as good as dead if I walk back in there unarmed, but Mum’s as good as dead if I don’t. Fuck! I don’t have time to think now. I need to move.
Shoes on, keys and wallet silently fished from my backpack, and phone in my pocket. I sneak toward the door, creeping over Aiden’s outstretched feet.
“I don’t think so, Tiger.”
Shit! “Aiden, I need air. I’m just going to stalk the corridor for a bit of thinking space, okay? My head’s a freaking mess.”
“Five minutes, Jules. I want to see you back in bed in five minutes.”
“Ten at least.”
“Fine. Go.”
Ten minutes isn’t much of a head start, but if I can make it to the taxi rank on the hospital forecourt, then maybe I can get the hell out of here before Aiden comes hunting. Maybe I should just tell him? I could do with the backup; someone threatening to stop Dad in his tracks.
Am I making a mistake going alone? Yes. Obviously.
Do I really want to involve Dax or Aiden? No. All that talk of recruitment has me worried. What if I cause them so much trouble, they eventually decide not to give me a choice? If my debts grow large enough with them, they could just demand I work for them. And someone like me is only ever going to amount to bait.
I have no one else to call, though.
But Mum does.
I wrack my brain for Carlo’s personal number. I make a point of memorising all the important numbers, but I’ve never used his personal line before. I’m at the taxi rank by the time I remember it.
I take the first available cab, climbing in the back and asking, “Will twenty get me to Olive Tower in the Vale?”
The driver rolls his lips and his nose wrinkles in clear disgust. “It’ll get you as far as the highroad.”
“At least to the bridge end then? Please?”
He must see something in my expression that sparks compassion because he sinks and nods. “Fine.”
“Thank you.” I tear my focus from the driver and tap in Carlo’s number. It rings four times before he picks up, voice groggy and thick with sleep.
“The fuck time is it?”
“Cue-ball. I need your help.”
“Jules? The hell?…Mara, it’s Jules…”
“Cue, wake the fuck up! You seem to have lost something.”
“Mara? Jules what the hell is…”
“Listen. Casey is still at your house. So, think about that before you go rushing off.”
“Rushing off?”
“I’m going to need your help. Mum took the boys and went back to dad. TJ just called me and said Dad was laying into her…hard. They’re scared. I’m on my way, but I could do with the back-up. Bring Casey, she’s too young to be left…”
“I’m not a fucking idiot Jules.”
“Fine. Are you coming?”
“I’ll meet you there. Don’t go upstairs without me.”
“No can do. He’ll be on a rampage. I’m going to have to distract him until you get there. I’ve got to get the boys out.”
“Don’t be stupid.”
Jesus, how do I make this man understand the urgency? Between Mum staying out all night, taking his boys with her, my attitude earlier, my escape, and Aiden beating seven shades of shit out of his face; Dad is a fucking time bomb right now.
“Carlo…I’m quite sure he won’t stop until she’s dead this time. He’s warned her a million times that he’ll see her dead rather than let her leave him, and she just spent most of the night at yours, right?”
“Fuck. Why the fuck did she even leave?”
“I wish I fucking knew.” It’s a good question. One that really bugs me. She was home free. Why return? Something is off about this. Still, knowing something is wrong and being able to change it, are two different things. Whatever is going on here, I’m about to wade right into it. I take a look out the window. We’re still flying through Harrison Central. I give Carlo the heads up and kick him into gear. “I’ll be there in ten. Get a move on.”
The chances of him making it in time to help are slim, but if he can get the kids safe and Mum clear of Dad’s fists, then that’s better than nothing.
The taxi stops at the lights just before the turn off to the bridge. The red light lingers like a warning not to do this. Yet the longer it takes the more determined I grow. I throw my twenty at the driver and call out my thanks as I stumble onto the street.
One last time, I tell myself. No matter if I make it out of that apartment tonight or not, this will be the last time Dad lays his hands on me or my family.
I check my phone. It’s been fourteen minutes since TJ called. I’m four minutes over Aiden’s curfew. Will he notice or did he fall back asleep?
I dart across the crossing and take the sub-system, a series of interconnecting pathways that run under the high street and road systems above. They were installed to connect the four towers that make up the borderlands of Harrison Vale.
The tunnels crawl with monsters and destitutes. They are dangerous but they’re my quickest way home.
This morning, I’m lucky. The tunnels are more or less empty. A few lumps of bundled cloth and vagrants stretch out along the paths, but they are wrapped so tight I can tell the majority of them are asleep. The creepy thought that some of them might be dead crosses my mind too, but it isn’t worth worrying about. Besides, the dead can’t hurt you.
I run, zipping through the tunnels, keeping to the far side and out of arm’s reach of the sleeping bundles.
My fears grow the closer I get to Olive Tower. An old green sign marks the exit. The words no longer read Olive Tower, having been drawn over so many times in the past. Now the O is a devil’s skull replete with horns and snaked tongue that flickers out and along the sign to where the R of tower used to be. Only, now, the R is a naked woman, her head thrown back with her arms in the air and the devil’s tongue pressing itself in between her splayed legs.
Things like that make me afraid to live here. It makes me afraid not only for myself but for Casey and the boys too. They’ll grow up in this place, surrounded by these things and they won’t know any better. But I do. I planned to get us out of the Vale once I graduated and got a decent job. My escape was never just about me. I was always going to take Mum and the kids with me. I wonder if that’ll remain a dream now?
I dash up the exit ramp and straight into the small parking lot at the front of the Tower. My eyes take it all in. I might hurtle towards my fate, but I’m fully aware that this could be the last time I see these sights. I’m certain he’s going to kill me or at least hurt me so badly that I’ll never be the same. The dread in my gut is a living, breathing thing and it’s never been wrong before.
The Tower shimmers blue in the dawn light. The light reflects off the glass windows, seeming to erase the world within the block. Gone are the ragged curtains, the dirty glass and faces that peer out across the world. Mostly faces of those who lost their jobs at the local factories. Tired faces and cruel faces.
Like the ones sitting on scooters and motorbikes outside the Tower entrance.
Gangs outside the building are nothing new. But a gang on bikes at six a.m. is suspicious. This is a complication I really don’t need. There’s no obvious way to the door, and I doubt they’ll let me pass without trying to mess with me. Fuck.
They haven’t spotted me, so I watch them, all eight of them, and from the way they mess around and circle the bikes, I suspect they’re bored. Yet, something about them rings untrue.
At first glance, they appear scruffy, laid back, a little grungy even. They all wear hoodies. All dark blue. One boy at the front, the only one with his hood pulled back, watches the bridge. Anyone driving or walking to the Tower has to come in that way or via the tunnels.
Four things feel wrong to me. First, they are all wearing blue hoodies and not in the way that says, ‘‘Ooops we all dressed alike today to go marauding.’’ No, they all wear the exact same hoodies. Same size, same brand, same colour. Vale gangs aren’t that organised or fashion conscious.
Second, the bikes are more like scooters and they, too, are all the same; impersonal and lacking any kind of customisation. They might as well have hired them all for the day. It’s actually a possibility.
Third, the way they speak immediately flags them as outsiders. These guys are not from Harrison Vale. They’re not as classy as Tom or Dax, but they sound clear, crisp, and precise. Even the words they use are unusual, far too formal and well-educated for the Vale.
Last, they each carry a long aluminium bat, and something tells me they aren’t here to play ball. I don’t know who they are waiting for, but I have no intention of witnessing it or getting beaten or killed for the trouble.
I’m stuck between a Tower and a dark place. They haven’t seen me yet, but I can’t get to the Tower without drawing their attention and I can’t make my way to the street for the same reason. There is a slim chance they’ll let me by with no issue, but it’s unlikely, which leaves me with the tunnels and going back the way I came.
Also, not an option. I need to get in there. Now.
I take a couple of steps backward, the slope of the ramp dipping behind me, just to give myself space to think. Except, as I move, I catch the eye of one lad hovering on the outskirts of the group. We both stop and stare at each other for a few unblinking moments.
I start to hope that he doesn’t care about my presence at all, but just as I blow out my breath, I hear him shout, “Over there!”
The others turn, training their watchful eyes on me. My feet lock in place. I’m certain, if I run, they’ll catch my fear like a scent on the breeze and hunt me down. It’ll only make me more interesting to them; something fun to play with.
“Are you just going to stand there, girl?” One of them shouts over. I can’t tell which.
“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of us? It’s okay, little lamb. We’re just hanging out. Nothing to fear here.” He laughs and the others laugh with him. Two bikers break from the pack and come at me on either side. Finding my feet responsive, I take another two steps forward and think of a route to the door where I’ll have an advantage over the bikes, but there isn’t one. They’ll get me whether or not I run, but I’ve got to at least try. I slide one foot back to brace and push off, then tense my body, lowering and leaning forward.
“I wouldn’t run, if I were you,” the one sitting to my left says, reading the change in my posture too easily.
“We’ll only come after you if you run,” the one on the right confirms, realising what I’m doing. Up close, I notice they’re not as young as their clothing suggests, nor as grungy. They’re clean, shaved, muscular men. There’s an eagerness in their eyes that warns me they’ve been waiting for someone like me to come along.
“Not just someone like you, Jules,” the one on the left sneers. My heart pummels my chest. I’m in deep shit. My mind is whirring, but I have the wherewithal to notice two things; I spoke my thoughts aloud and this fucker knows my name.
“We were waiting for you. Only you. Come on. Time to join the party.” He twists his hand and the bike shoots expertly down the side of the slope and around behind me. He corrals me forward with sharp little bursts of the throttle. The sound jolts my feet into motion. I get almost halfway across the parking lot when I realise I’m playing straight into their hands. I’m acting like a scared little girl, and they are getting off on it.
I straighten my back, fix a scowl on my face, and hold my head up high. My fists bunch at my sides ready to throw a punch or two if I need to. Not that I’ll get far with those baseball bats of theirs, but if I go down, I’ll go down swinging.
“Which of you Dickweeds is in charge?” I shout across the lot. The guys all laugh at me, but I scan each of them for some kind of answer. As the laughter dies down, the head guy pulls forward on his bike and leans against the handlebars.
“Me.”
“So, you’re the Dickhead, huh?”
“You think you’re a funny girl, I see? You won’t be laughing when I am done with you.”
“Sure, sure. So, what the fuck do you want, or are you just here to piss me off?”
“She sure has a smart mouth for a kid. Want me to show her where a smart mouth gets you in life?” one of the smaller guys asks. He jumps off his bike and stalks toward me.
“Not yet!” the main one shouts. I’m afforded a reprieve, but why? “You ditch your bodyguards, honey?”
Well, that answers that.
They know about Dax and Aiden. I’m betting this has nothing to do with me and everything to do with that stupid mystery envelope. Why now? Their timing is either perfect or it sucks balls.
I can tell the truth, or I can lie. I weaponize my shitty genetics and choose lies. “I don’t know what you—”
“No use hiding it. We know all about you, Jules.”
But how much do they know and how do they know it? They’ve waited for me outside the Tower, but that doesn’t tell me if they know my apartment number. They call me Jules and not Juliet, so they’ve either been sent by someone who knows I prefer the condensed version of my name or who only knows me by the condensed version.
Dax said something about not trusting anyone. Does he have a mole? Could it be whoever set up Tom? If it is, how would they know about me unless they’d seen me in the middle of the fray? Suddenly, I don’t like my odds and I don’t just mean escaping the biker idiots with all my bones intact; I mean surviving Dax, his men, his troubles, all of it. I have a stone in my gut that just keeps sinking lower—and the lower it sinks the heavier it feels.
“They’re not here and they’re not coming. They figured I’m worthless and sent me home.” I act dismissive, bored even. If I can convince them Dax didn’t want me, then perhaps, they’ll think I’m a waste of time too.
“I’d think you were bullshitting me, kid; except they haven’t showed up yet.” His eyes flick from me to the bridge and back again, finding no threat. I’m not sure if I should pray Carlo shows up now or doesn’t show up at all. The last thing I want is for him to walk into this shit with Casey on his hip.
“Well, if you want to wait, be my guest, but you’ll be waiting a while.” I roll my eyes and cross my arms over my chest, leaning casually on one foot.
“In that case, you are coming with us,” he says loudly, rocking back and sliding his bat into a bag slung across his back. The handle pokes out over his right shoulder. I consider making a grab for it and then think better of it. I’m stupid, not reckless.
“What? Are you kidding me?”
“No.” He nudges his head toward the back of his bike. “Get on.”
“No way.”
“Don’t fight us on this, Jules.”
“It’s not like you can strap an unconscious body to a teeny bike like that, so I say yes, I will fucking fight you on this. Come on. Which of you brave boys want to hit the little woman first?” I raise my fists as the truth of my words hits them. I need to be conscious and compliant if they want to ride out with me. There is no chance of anything else. The head man leans back and laughs loudly. His grin widening as at least six more guys come out of the building to join them.
“I like you. You’re a brave little thing, but, kid, there are worse things we can do than knock you unconscious.”
A strange buzzing noise distracts me from those words, and I can’t help but think it’s a good thing too, because my rampant imagination already drums up images of what they might do to me instead, and none of the visions are as appealing as broken bones.
The buzzing intensifies. My leg throbs and I realise what it really is: the phone.
I take it out, praying that it’s Dax or Aiden calling. My disappointment is palpable when I discover only a message. A nearby hand reaches out to snatch the phone from my fingers, but they are too late, because two words flash up on the screen surrounded by a pink bubble. The only words I need.
GET DOWN.
I hit the concrete hard, cradling my phone to my chest so as not to smash it off the floor. My knees take the worst of the impact, but I forget my pain as all hell breaks loose around me.
Some men shout as I fall, cussing and confused. The panic only intensifies when others drop around me. Most of the bikes fall too or are kicked away as the men jump off them to fight back. But fight what? Dax, Aiden, and who else?
I hear hissing sounds, screams, more yelling—this time in anger and surprise. Until, one by one, the grunts and groans stop and I’m the only one left.
I dare to raise my head.
“Oh God. Are they dead? Did you really just shoot them? Holy crap they’re dead, right?” I mutter. Men in suits surround the area, kicking over bodies and collecting the weapons and keys. Each suit carries a long gun. Shotguns? I don’t know. I’m too freaked out to care. All I know is that I’m alive and surrounded by the bodies of the men who wanted to kidnap me.
I looked around at a calm sort of chaos. Bodies lay strewn about the concrete. A sea of blue cotton and denim. Bikes intersperse the bodies at odd angles, even laying on the fallen men in some places. An army of suits mill around the scene, dragging the fallen in pairs and throwing them into the back of a large black van. It backs up as close to the mess as it can get without rolling over skulls. Every time I turn my head, I get a snapshot of the action. Like flashes, the scene becomes still images that pulse behind my eyes and each time they pulse the blackness between them becomes darker, longer, more consuming.
I’m going to faint.
“Jules, calm down.” A hand gently squeezes my shoulder. I look down at the elegant fingers and realise they are not as smooth as I assumed, but they are unmistakably his. I run my gaze over his face and acknowledge the way the grim set of his lips contrasts with the tenderness in his eyes.
“Dax?”
“Don’t you ever do that to us again, Jules.”
“I…”
“Do you have any idea how much trouble you could have been in? Do you know what they do to women like you?” Aiden yells, storming across the lot. “You think a beating is the worst a man is capable of, but these aren’t men, they’re monsters, Jules.”
Beating…Fuck! Mum!
I tug free of Dax and dart for the Tower. I’m hammering on the elevator call button and cursing how slow the car descends by the time Dax and Aiden catch up.
“Mum’s upstairs with the twins. I need to get them out,” I explain when neither of them says anything.
“Why the hell did she go back?” Dax barks.
My answer is a clueless shake of my head. The doors spring open and I throw myself inside, Dax and Aiden pushing in behind me. I rattle the button for our floor.
“Hurry up, come on!”
“Wait! Jules! Wait!” Carlo sprints through the entry with Casey in his arms, her little hands reaching around his neck are holding on tight. He shoves himself sideways through the closing doors as the elevator judders and groans beginning its climb.
“Explain,” Dax commands.
“I got a call from TJ. He said Dad was hurting Mum and that I needed to come,” I rush out, paraphrasing the call.
“And you just ran out of the hospital without telling us?” Aiden accuses.
“It’s not your issue. It’s my responsibility...” Aiden raises his admonishing eyebrow and Dax shoots a ‘really’ glance before flicking a glance at Carlo. “…and maybe Carlo’s too,” I concede.
“You called him and not us?” Dax is upset. He forgets that I’ve known Carlo for close to four years now. I’ve known Dax and Aiden for three days. Not only do I trust Carlo, but I know for sure he has a vested interest in getting Mum out safely.
“TJ mentioned Daddy Carlo.” I shoot a withering look at the hulk of muscle and tattoos. He better realise we’ll be discussing that as soon as this mess is over. “Figured he might be part of the reason she’s getting kicked to shit, so he deserves to help.”
My verbal punch strikes as intended. Carlo pulls back and questions me defensively. “You sure he’s hurting her?”
“I heard a thump…pretty sure that was her hitting the floor,” I admit.
“I’m going to fucking kill him. Here, take Casey.”
The shift in Carlo is immediate. He holds Casey out in mid-air. She makes grabby hand gestures for me to take her and as much as I want her safe in my arms, I know that I need to see to the boys first.
“No. I’m going in first. We don’t know how bad it’ll get if he sees one of you. He likes to hit us with things; belts, brooms, hangers, chairs…food.” I snort derisively, thinking of earlier…or yesterday, I suppose. “If he’s got something in his hands, he’ll likely use it against her before you’ll get to him. I wouldn’t put it past him to make the hit count, damage her permanently, and make it worth getting caught.” He always used to hit harder if one of us interfered in a beating. We learned to stay out of it for the sake of getting it over with; help came later when we picked up the pieces.
“You’re hoping he refocuses on you?” Dax asks. He’s already figured it out, but he’s making sure I have a plan.
“Yes, and he will if I remind him my friend rearranged his face because I asked him to…” I nod toward Aiden. He’s not happy, but I see him slipping into business mode. He rolls up his sleeves and his features drain of expression or tells. I envy his focus.
“I’m coming with you,” Carlo grunts.
I nod, accepting this. It’s what I hoped he’d say. “Okay but give me a minute. When he’s clear of Mum, you can do whatever you like.”
“Fine.” Carlo nods, agreeing to my conditions.
“I’m coming too,” Dax insists.
“No…he’s…he’s not a tolerant man,” I warn.
“I can see that much, Jules.”
“He’s…”
“A racist fuck,” Carlo huffs catching on. He’s heard many of Dad’s vitriolic rants before. He knows how Dad will react seeing anyone with a different colour to his. A rich Asian man like Dax just poses two reasons for Dad to resent him.
“He’ll not be the first bigoted prick I’ve faced in my lifetime.”
“I don’t want him to say those things to you,” I whisper. Three pairs of eyes watch me. All of them hearing something in my words that even I don’t understand. Why do I care? Am I protecting Dad from making the mistake of spouting his prejudice and hate? Or am I protecting Dax from hearing it and being poisoned by that kind of venom?
“I can handle it, Jules.”
“Okay.” I give in. “Whatever, but one of you needs to keep Casey safe. You can figure it out between you. Just DON’T let her near him. He threatened to drown her in a bath of bleach and blame it on me.” I hold up my hands and what would have been his evidence. “I’m pretty sure he meant it.”
A loud thump echoes through the elevator car as Carlo whacks the side wall with his fist. “Fuck! That fucking bastard. You should have told me he was threatening her.”
“Why would I? Until today, you were just a reluctant employer. You knew he beat me and Mum. You didn’t care.” This time I’m not reprimanding him so much as stating facts.
“I fucking care,” he insists. “Mara made me stay out of it.”
“That’s your argument to have with her then, not me. I won’t carry guilt for surviving.”
The argument cuts off as soon as the elevator judders to a halt. We hear Mum’s cries as soon as the doors ping open. I’m not ready for this, but when am I ever?
“I’ll leave the door open,” I tell them in a whisper. “If Mum’s clear, do what you want.” I stride to the door, turn my key in the lock and slip wordlessly into the fight.