Till It Hurts by Cora Brent
Jace
Now
We weren’t planning to stay here tonight, but I just can’t leave her, not yet. Colt doesn’t argue when I suggest getting a pair of rooms in town.
In the morning, we will get back on the road and head west. To California. There’s an appointment with Dr. Timothy Gatlin to keep. Tori suspects nothing. She would worry. She wouldn’t approve at all.
But Colt and I are in complete agreement.
What that son of a bitch did to her… it cannot and will not fucking stand.
The roadside motel we choose to crash in is a dated throwback to the old days of cross country road trips in the family station wagon. At seven a.m. I step out to the balcony stretching across the second floor and press my ear to Colt’s door but there’s no sound within. I’ll let him sleep. Yesterday wasn’t easy for him either.
From here it’s possible to glimpse the reddish top of the church-shaped rocky spire that is also visible from the grounds of the Painted Rock Recovery Center. My hands grip the wrought iron balcony railing while my eyes remain glued to the natural landmark and I wonder if Tori is admiring the same view right now. I think maybe she is. Or perhaps I’m just grasping helplessly at the one thing in sight that’s a connection to her.
Clouds that were thick at dawn are now beginning to break into pieces and a slice of sunshine frees itself. I raise my eyes to the sky and the friendly warmth of the sun finds me. I’m thinking of my grandmother. It would be nice to believe that she’s up there, keeping a loving eye on what’s going on down here. Tori needs all the support she can get.
“Watch over her,” I beg the sky, barely more than a whisper.
Still, someone hears.
“When in the hell did you start talking to yourself?” Colt has appeared out of nowhere, fully dressed, holding a plastic bag and two coffee cups.
“I wasn’t.” I accept the cup he offers, even though I’m not really a coffee drinker.
“Got you an egg sandwich too.” He tosses the bag at me.
“Thought you were still asleep.” Suddenly starving, I set my coffee cup down and pull the wax paper from the breakfast sandwich.
He throws me a look. “Please. I’ve been roaming around for two hours and waiting on your ass.”
I stuff half the sandwich in my mouth with one bite. Colt leans on the railing and looks down at the leaf-strewn motel pool.
“We should get going soon.”
I swallow my food. “It’s a six hour drive and our little rendezvous isn’t until four o’clock.”
He cracks his knuckles. “I just don’t want to be late.”
“We won’t be.” I’m still looking at the distant rock.
Colt eyes me. “She’s in good hands. She can do this.”
The sour taste in my mouth has nothing to do with the bitter coffee. “I hate leaving her.”
He nudges my shoulder. “You’re not leaving her. You’re giving her what she needs.”
I just nod because suddenly I’m on the verge of bawling like an infant.
“By the way,” Colt says, “how much is that place costing?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Bet a month there is more than I make in a year.”
“Might be.”
He grins. Then his face changes as his eyes narrow. “You’re sure this fucker has no clue what’s coming for him?”
“I took a gamble in the hopes that Tori would never have mentioned her connection to me. She must not have, otherwise he would have been suspicious. He was fawning all over me on the phone when I said I was interested in discussing his charity work and eager to offer a celebrity endorsement. Think he would have agreed to meet on the moon if I’d suggested it.”
Colt drums his hands on the railing. “Finish your sandwich and let’s get out of here.”
He’s impatient but he has no choice but to wait until I’m showered and dressed. I’m behind the wheel when we leave Sedona and I keep looking in the rearview mirror, my heart heavy, until the red rocks fade from view.
Colt is quiet. When I glance at him I notice that he’s watching me with sympathy.
“I know it’s hard, Jace. But Tori’s strong. We’ll have her back soon.”
I nod and I believe this too.
Watch over her.
The rock formation finally disappears.
Colt is practically buzzing with furious energy over in the passenger seat. There’s probably a better than even chance he’ll throttle Timothy Gatlin on sight. I know how he feels.
San Diego is a damn pretty town. The last time I was here was week four of the regular season. Because of Gloria, I was keenly aware that Tori lived nearby. The night we won the game, when the team was out turning the city into their personal victory playground, I was drinking myself silly while alone in my hotel room and fantasizing about randomly bumping into Tori Malene. This was not long after Gloria’s death and I was still fuming that Tori hadn’t shown up at the funeral. I composed a cutting monologue in my head about just what I thought of her.
Little did I know what was really happening in Tori’s life as I stewed over all the names I wanted to call her. Not far from where I brooded in a thousand-dollar-a-night penthouse suite, Tori was badly injured and terrified and alone.
With all my heart, I wish I’d known.
We’re early and there’s time to kill. We eat a late seafood lunch, walk along the Embarcadero and check out the USS Midway. Despite the unpleasant reason for our visit, I’m sure not hating the simple joy of just hanging out with Colt. I’ve never had any other close friends like him, never will.
Colt checks his phone and notes the time. “You know where we’re going?”
“Yeah. Let’s get moving. Don’t want to take a chance on traffic.”
We’re meeting at Cloud Springs. Dr. Dipshit carried on about how he was clearing his schedule to make way for our meeting. And oh yeah, his wife, Dr. Katherine Gatlin, would be joining us as well. I don’t know what the female Dr. Gatlin’s deal is. She’s married to a monster so maybe she has her own problems. But she definitely didn’t lift a finger to help or defend Tori so she’s not my favorite person.
The look of Cloud Springs Psychiatric and Rehabilitation Center is rather modern and antiseptic. To me, it looms through the windshield like a castle of evil, but that’s because I have good reason to feel hatred. Within those walls, Tori was brutalized. I’d burn the fucking place down if I could.
“Hey.” I pull Colt back when he tries to jump out of the truck the instant I set the brake. “Let me start the talking, okay? Don’t want to tip him off.”
Colt scowls. “I don’t need a handler. Let’s get this done.”
The receptionist seated at the broad desk in the lobby is young, not much more than a teenager. She shyly asks if I wouldn’t mind signing an autograph for her little brother. He loves football and plans to try out for the varsity squad next season. I don’t mind. The girl and her kid brother are not the reason for my rage.
Meanwhile, Colt stands to the side and shifts his weight with impatience.
I shoot him a hard look. Not yet.
He shrugs. Don’t worry.
The receptionist places a call on her desk phone. “Dr. Gatlin, your four o’clock is here.”
Seconds later, rapid footsteps approach. My muscles are coiled and ready to spring.
But it’s a woman’s face that peers around the corner. She’s dark haired, early thirties and she smiles. I recognize her from my internet research.
“Hello, I’m Dr. Katherine Gatlin.” She extends a hand. “It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Zielinski. We’re big fans.”
Colt coughs loudly at my back.
I shake the woman’s hand. “Nice to meet you too.”
She notices Colt and her forehead wrinkles.
“My uh, associate,” I explain, realizing belatedly that I’ve neglected to invent an alternative identity for Colt.
“Dr. Katherine Gatlin.” She offers her hand to Colt.
He just glares at her.
Awkward seconds pass.
“Well.” She pulls her hand back. “Follow me. We’re meeting in my husband’s office. Would you like some water?”
“No thanks, we’re good,” I say, choosing to speak for Colt because the less he says right now, the better.
Dr. Gatlin’s navy blue heels click smartly on the marble floor as she leads us down a long corridor. I look at each closed door, trying to guess if behind it is the room where Tori was attacked.
She turns left. Clearly, this is the administrative wing. There are names on the doors. We’re led to the one that’s already open.
Then, for the first time, I see him in the flesh. He must have used makeup in his headshots. He looks less robust in person.
The office is large with trendy minimalist décor. Dr. Timothy Gatlin sits behind a white desk that’s twice as long as a man. He was in the midst of a serious expression while writing with a fat black pen, or at least pretending to, in order to maintain the illusion that he is a Very Important Person.
He looks up and smiles. I envision the supreme satisfaction of watching his head explode.
“Hello, Jace,” he says in a butter smooth voice. “I’m Timothy Gatlin.” He rises and extends his hand.
And I just can’t shake it.
Nope.
Fucking nope squared times infinity.
Instead, I take a seat in one of the black artsy chairs that look like nuclear sized spiders. Katherine Gatlin shoots me a quizzical look and settles into a chair at her husband’s side, a queen attending the king. Colt refuses to sit down at all. He positions himself in front of the desk with his arms crossed.
Timothy Gatlin clears his throat and plants his skinny ass back in his ergonomic desk chair. He tries to turn on his smile again. “I was very pleased to get your call. We are, naturally, huge fans and we look forward to showing you the work we do in the community and…”
He trails off, distracted. That might be because Colt has closed in, placed his fists on top of the desk and now leans forward on their weight.
Dr. Timothy Gatlin is confused. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
“My partner,” I try to explain.
But Colt is not willing to play along anymore. It’s just as well. I’m not either.
“I’m Colt Malene,” he says in a voice of murderous fury. “I believe you know my sister.”
The mouths of both Dr. Gatlins pop open in the same instant. Their shocked eyes swivel to me.
I wave at them. “Tori’s boyfriend over here.”
Katherine Gatlin erupts. “WHAT?”
Timothy Gatlin leans back in his chair. He assesses me in a new light through cold eyes. Yet he maintains the calm expression of a sociopath. “We were terribly grieved by what happened to Tori. Of course, as her employers we felt responsible in some ways.”
I’m one twitch away from leaping over the desk and cracking his head open like an eggshell. “You don’t say.”
His voice remains neutral, as if he’s discussing whether to have steak or shellfish for dinner. “It’s unfortunate that she suffered a breakdown in the aftermath. We tried to be sympathetic, but her claims were beyond preposterous. I do hope she receives the help she needs.”
“You fucking piece of filth,” Colt sneers.
Timothy Gatlin glances at him, decides to be unimpressed, and sighs.
Katherine Gatlin remains rattled. She’s on her feet and her fingers twist together in front of her. The light twinkles off her knobby diamond ring. “Even before the incident, Tori had been having difficulties for some time so it’s probably no surprise that she was so easily pushed over the edge.”
I give her my attention now. “You were Tori’s friend.”
The woman’s throat bobs.
“How could you?” I ask her.
She pouts, crossing her arms and choosing to stare out the window rather than meet my eye.
Her husband, however, has already conducted a shrewd reassessment of the situation. “Since you were not honest about the subject of this meeting, I think we can safely say it has now concluded.”
I shake my head. “No.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“No, the meeting has not concluded. The meeting has not concluded until you understand that if you ever harm another woman then I’ll personally be back here to bend your knees backwards and crush your skull. And if you ever – AND I MEAN EVER – come anywhere near Tori again, then I’ll fucking skin you alive.”
Colt, who has cheered up considerably, offers assistance. “I’ll be holding you down while he does it. And I’m pretty strong.”
Timothy Gatlin is not used to being on the receiving end of threats. Sweat breaks out on his face and his thin lips quake. “Is that all?”
“Almost.” I rise from the chair and lean across the desk. “I just have to tell you one more thing.”
He’s not expecting violence from me right now. He doesn’t even have time to cringe before I seize him by the back of the neck and slam his face right into the desk. Blood shoots all over his paperwork. Broken teeth drop from his mouth. His nose is pulverized mush. Dr. Timothy Gatlin slumps over in a daze and makes a bubbly, strangled sound. I wonder if he’s suffered brain damage. I hope so.
“Call the police,” he wails through his damaged face.
“Oh, I wouldn’t do that,” I warn him, wagging a finger in a mock lecture. “I personally know a lot of reporters who would be very interested in this story. And trust me, by the time I’m done telling it and the details hit the social media world you’ll be hounded to the ends of the earth. There will be nowhere to run. Best to cut your losses and wallow in your pathetic cowardice. But know this. I’ll be fucking watching.”
His wife remains frozen in shock with her hand cupped over her mouth.
“As for you,” I say to her, “take my advice. Do yourself a favor and unload this nightmare. Tori thought you were a good person. Act like it.”
Her eyes shine with sudden tears but she says nothing.
Colt holds the door open. He’s grinning now. He notices an expensive looking crystal figurine on a nearby shelf and picks it up. Then he throws it on the floor, just to be a dick. It shatters. Timothy Gatlin moans through his blood and pain. Katherine Gatlin has not run to her husband’s side yet. Maybe she never will.
Back in the lobby, the young receptionist is bewildered by all the noise. “Is everything all right?” she asks.
“Sure,” I tell her. “Excellent meeting.”
“Stupendous,” Colt agrees.
“Tell your brother good luck with the varsity tryouts,” I call out.
She beams. “Thanks, I will!”
Colt elbows me with a chuckle once we’re outside. “What now, hero?”
I unlock the truck. “Let’s get some food and check out the beach. Beating up evil fuckwits works up an appetite.”
“I wouldn’t know. I didn’t get a chance to jump in before you destroyed the evil fuckwit in question.”
“Next time an evil fuckwit crosses our path, you can have first crack.”
He offers a fist bump. “Deal.”