Claimed Darker by Em Brown
Chapter 32
BRIDGET
Past
After spending a few minutes researching what a tawse is and how it compares to the paddle and riding crop, I decide I should go back to the safety of the fundraising letter for my internship with a county nonprofit. We’re just ten thousand dollars short on purchasing a second refrigerated van for our food recycling program. My supervisor, Linda, had wanted me to pass it to one of the staff members and suggested I take a few days off to process what’s happened, but I’m better off keeping busy.
Everyone in the office had been shocked to hear what had happened to me. As was Simone and Kat. I found the more I talked about it, the better I felt. Aunt Coretta checks in with me daily. I told her she didn’t have to, but I like her calls. I can see myself getting back to normal.
Eventually.
Right now, as I sit alone in Darren’s place, which feels larger than usual, I don’t like the quiet. I miss having Simone, Kat and Amy around. But I’m determined to stay with Darren for as long as he needs me. It’s the least I can do for the man who might have saved me from serious harm or death.
“If he did that,” Coretta said, when I’d told her that the bullets that hit him might have hit me, “then he’s a hero.”
“He says he just fell into me, but I think he pushed me,” I replied. “It all happened so fast, I can’t say for sure. Whether he acted on purpose or not, I feel guilty.”
“Don’t you be doing that. It’s not your fault some lunatic drove by and starting shooting at innocent people.”
Was it a lunatic? I can’t decide if that would make me feel better or worse about what happened. Regardless, I’d feel a lot better if the police found the shooter and put him safely behind bars.
More than three hours pass. I’m antsy. I make myself a sandwich even though I’m not hungry. What is taking so long?
Sitting on a stool at the kitchen bar, I give Amy a call.
“It’s so quiet here, it’s eerie,” I tell her. “The walls and windows are thick, so I don’t even hear the sound of cars driving by. I guess I’m used to hearing all the sounds from the street and the other tenants of our apartment.”
“I wish JD would let me stay with him,” Amy sighs.
“Is your mom still in town?”
“Yeah, she’s staying at the Claremont Hotel and Spa. It’s a nice place.”
“How long is she staying?”
“Two more days. Spring break is coming up, and my family has plans to go to Maui, but I was really hoping to spend that time with JD. He hasn’t called or texted in days.”
“Maybe he’s someone who needs time alone.”
“Really? I haven’t seen him be anything but social.”
“People process trauma differently.”
“I guess. Have you seen him at all?”
“No, the club’s been closed, reopening tomorrow though.”
“If JD’s there, let me know. It’s driving me crazy not hearing from him. I hope he’s not depressed. I texted him that the prescription I’m taking helps. I didn’t want to take drugs at first, but the panic attacks were scary. You’re so lucky you don’t get them.”
I almost blurt out that sex has been my drug of choice, but that won’t help Amy and I don’t want to rub anything in.
Remembering my conversation with Simone, who was present when Amy had her first one, I say, “I’m sorry. They sound awful. I wonder if maybe I’m just suppressing my reaction. I’m glad the medication is helping.”
“Me too. But I know I’d feel better if I could just see how JD’s doing. Does Darren know?”
“Last time I checked, Darren said JD was holding up well.”
“Do they talk?”
I recall the last time JD had called. I saw his name pop up on Darren’s cell, which he had left on the coffee table. I told Darren that his cousin was calling, but Darren told me to let it go to voicemail. I don’t know why he did that, since he didn’t seem to be in the middle of anything. Later, he said he was going down to his office to meet with Cheryl about reopening the club. I heard him call JD on his way out the door. If I was the suspicious type, I would have wondered if Darren didn’t want me overhearing a conversation with his cousin.
“Maybe,” I reply. “I don’t think often, though.”
“Can you find out? I really want to know that JD’s doing okay.”
“Sure, I’ll ask Darren.”
After I hang up with Amy, it’s another hour before I finally hear Darren. I hop up to get the door. Darren stumbles in, and I immediately smell the alcohol on his breath. That explains what took him so long.
“I’m fine,” Darren insists to Marshall, who stands behind him.
Marshall turns to me. “He’s all yours.”
“How much did he have to drink?” I ask.
“Too much.”
“Fuck off,” Darren grumbles to him.
Marshall wishes me a good night, and I close the door.
“I don’t think alcohol and Vicodin mix well,” I say with worry, remembering the pharmacy instructions.
“Took Motrin today,” Darren mumbles as he goes over and flops down on the sofa.
I sigh with relief. I can’t remember if there are interactions between alcohol and antibiotics, but mixing the painkiller with alcohol was a definite negative. I get a glass of water and set it down near him. He was worried that reliving the events would be traumatizing for me, but it looks like he’s the one having trouble. I wonder if Sergeant Trawley had any new information for him.
“You want help getting into bed?” I ask.
“I’m fine where I am,” he murmurs.
I help him out of his shoes. He closes his eyes. I sit there for several minutes before getting up to get a blanket. I place it over him and ready myself for bed. It feels empty without him, but I eventually fall asleep. This night, I do have a nightmare.
* * *
Sitting at the table,still in his clothes from last night, Darren groans as he holds his head. I set the glass of water and Motrin in front of him. I consider opening the blinds, but he might not be ready for the morning light.
“How’s the hangover?” I ask.
“Sucks,” he grumbles.
Going into the kitchen, I return with an egg scramble with spinach and avocado, along with a banana-blueberry fruit salad topped with honey and granola.
“I looked up what foods can help with hangovers,” I explain. I go back into the kitchen and bring out ginger tea with lemon.
“Know what else cures a hangover?” Darren asks. “Hair of the dog.”
“What is that?”
“More drinking.”
I wrinkle my nose. “That can’t possibly work.”
He shrugs. “I’ve never tried it, but JD said it works as long as you avoid the hard stuff.”
JD does seem to do his fair share of drinking, so maybe he knows what he’s talking about. I’ve seen JD drunk but not smashed.
“Does JD drink a lot?” I ask.
Darren pops the Motrin and finishes the water in one gulp. He wipes his lips with the back of his hand. “What do you consider a lot? Two glasses?”
“How often does he get wasted?”
“Not that often. He’ll get close a lot, but he doesn’t like hangovers any more than I do. I’ve only seen him wasted on special occasions.”
“Was yesterday a special occasion for you?” I venture as I dig into the breakfast.
His face darkens. “Just felt like it,” he replies.
“How’d your meeting with Sergeant Trawley go?”
“Fine.”
“Any new developments?”
“Nope.”
I get the feeling I’m only going to get one-word answers. Maybe it’s because of the hangover.
“Where’d you go for drinks?” I ask.
“Just downstairs. Don’t have to worry about driving anywhere afterward.”
“That’s a definite advantage of owning a bar and living above it, in addition to having more than enough alcohol on hand when you want it.”
He pokes at the eggs.
“I can make something else,” I offer.
“No. This is fine.”
He starts to eat but doesn’t seem to relish the food.
“Ginger supposedly helps with nausea,” I say of the tea.
“Thanks. You got class or work today?”
I nod. “I should get myself over to campus as soon as I’m done with breakfast.”
“Marshall can give you a ride.”
“He’s here?”
“Said he wanted to come in early and review the security footage again.”
“I’m good taking BART.”
“Marshall will drive you.”
“Taking public transportation isn’t the end of the world, you know.”
Darren gives me a look that’s intended to end the conversation. Given that he has a hangover and potentially took two bullets for me, I don’t argue with him.
I go to class, but I can’t wait to get back to Darren. Something feels different. Maybe it’s because I’ve never seen him hung over before.
Luckily, my last class today ends at three, and I don’t have a work shift. Per Darren’s instructions, Marshall picks me up when I’m done. It’s been raining nonstop today, so as much as I like public transportation, it’s nice to limit my exposure to the rain.
“How’s Darren doing today?” I ask Marshall when I get in his car.
“Better,” Marshall answers as he drives out of the West Entrance.
“Was he having a hard time after meeting with Sergeant Trawley?”
“Maybe.”
“Were you there with him at the police station?”
“No.”
“But you drove him back to the club?”
“Yes.”
I’m tempted to ask him if he’s able to respond with two or more words.
“Did he say anything to you about it?” I ask.
“Nope.”
Guess not.
“How long have you been working for Darren?”
“Four years.”
Okay, that’s two words.
“Do you like working for him?”
“Yes.”
“Would you be more talkative if I offered to bring you more fried chicken?”
I see a hint of smile from Marshall.
“My job is to drive you back to the city safely,” he says.
“Doesn’t mean you can’t have a conversation,” I reply.
He doesn’t have a response.
“I guess I’m just trying to see where Darren’s at,” I continue. “He had seemed so composed about the shooting until yesterday. I want to be there for him in the right way.”
Marshall is still quiet as we head toward the Bay Bridge. The commute traffic on the other side of the freeway is stop-and-go. Another reason I like public transportation.
“How are you doing with what happened?” I ask.
My question seems to startle him.
“And don’t say okay,” I add. “I don’t see how anyone can come away without being affected.”
He nods and surprises me with his candor. “It feels like shit.”
I don’t say anything in case he has more. He does.
“It’s my job to keep Darren and the club safe,” he says. “I failed.”
My eyes widen. “You couldn’t have known something like that was going to happen! We were at the wrong place at the wrong time, and there’s nothing you could have done about it.”
He doesn’t seem convinced.
“Seriously,” I insist. “There’s no rhyme or reason to why it happened. I just hope the police find the guy and get him off the streets, then maybe we’ll all sleep better.”
Marshall is about to say something but closes his mouth. I wait to see if he speaks, but he’s back to being taciturn the rest of the drive.
