Bear by Lily J. Adams

 

Chapter Two:  Haunted By The Past

 

Delphia

 

Those guys coming into the gas station were the least of my problems. I couldn’t care less. They were goofy anyway and didn’t bother me. It was closing time as my train of thought traveled back to the guy who came in. He was so… big. His chest was wide and high, his arms evenly thick, though they were covered with rippling muscle. He exuded a protective, dominant energy. He made my skin feel tingly all over… and not in a bad way.

I looked around me quickly and glanced out through the gas station window like always. It was my ritual. I had to check everything and make sure the external world was safe. I moved through to the bathrooms and turned my head sharply both right and left, checking to see if anyone was inside the stalls. I knocked on both the men’s and the women’s bathroom doors.

Vacant. Good. I walked back to the cash register and commenced counting the drawer and new floats. Once I’d done that, I called my boss to let him know.

“I’m going to swing past now before you close up, so you get home safe,” he responded.

“You know I’ll be fine, right?” I told him. He didn’t totally approve of me working the late shift and to be fair, I’d only worked three of them since the death of my brother Deon. My heart missed him every day. I hated knowing how he died and the way he suffered. The worst thing was, I knew the killer. A thick lump stayed trapped in my throat and held steady as I attempted to cough and release it.

“I’m still coming down. I live minutes away. Hang on.” He hung up, giving me no chance to argue further.

I dropped the float change into the till. I had a day off tomorrow, and I liked to make sure the till was set for the next day. I didn’t look forward to those days off because the demons of my mind kicked in, telling me I was next to be murdered.

Rubbing my tongue over my bottom lip, I picked up my bag from underneath the counter and rifled through it to make sure I had everything while I waited for my boss to come by. Two minutes later, white headlights swung into Holbeck Gas. My heart jumped inside my chest. I ran my fingers shakily over the emergency button just in case it wasn’t him. As soon as I saw the mop of curly brown hair and the protruding stomach, though, I knew it was my boss.

“Hey, Thomas, everything is all sewn up here. I’m ready,” I greeted him.

Thomas did a quick run-through and made sure everything was okay. “Looks pretty good. Any trouble?” he asked with a weird cough.

“Nah. Same old here. Pumping gas and a few guys talking shit, nothing new.”

“What did I say about that?” My boss snapped. He gave me free permission to hit the emergency button if there were any strange guys hanging around.

“I know. Another guy came in and made sure nothing was going down. I’m good.” I eyed him with a dismissive look. I didn’t want him to harp on about it. I wanted to get home.

My boss cocked his eyebrow. “Oh, someone else came in to save the day, did they?”

“Yep. Yep. Some guy from the Rebel Saints. Anyway, the troublemakers left. They were basically trying to get free gas, that’s all,” I relayed half-heartedly.

“The good old Rebel Saints. Good guys,” he replied cheerfully. “One of my friend’s sons did a workshop with them at their clubhouse. He said they were pretty good. Taught him a lot about bikes.”

The last thing I could handle was Thomas small-talking. My shower and couch were waiting for me. Second to the shower, I had a block of chocolate in my fridge waiting for me. Still, I gave him some semblance of a response. “Oh, really? That’s cool of them.”

It actually was and a little part of me opened to thinking about the muscled guy who came into the gas station earlier, acting as my protector.

Thomas walked me out to my bomb of a car. There wasn’t a single car in sight and it was muggy, like most nights in Holbeck. I slid into my car, driving home on autopilot with my brother on my mind again.

Did you suffer? Or was it quick?

Having your body parts chopped and dispersed into the water didn’t feel to me like it was a good ending to life. My mood shifted to depression as scenes from his funeral drifted back to me.

The dread of the phone call. My heart. The speed of it and the booming in my chest was almost louder than stereo speakers. By the time I got home, I felt like I wanted to collapse. This was a regular occurrence now, and I knew I should’ve called my parents to lean on them for support, but sometimes I just wallowed in it on my own.

I wanted to crawl into a deep hole and never come out. I made it inside my house and let my tears fall. My brother and I were close. We talked every other day. We did a lot together, but my brother had a hankering for a dangerous life. One that led to death. It was the same classic story…he mixed it up with the wrong crowd and wound up on the other side.

“You got the money from the cartel, and you did the drop. Now where’s my cut? I want my money, Deon. I want it now.” The rough voice of Rocky played like a movie through my mind. I’d listened to the tape a thousand times.

“I told you, I don’t have any money. The cartel hasn’t given me my cut yet. I don’t know what you’re crying about,” Deon had responded curtly.

Then a chuckle sounded that spelled death. “You think you can play with my money like that when I’m the one that gave you the leads? You promised me half, now you gotta deliver. I know you made good on that other deal, where’d you put the money?”

“It’s nowhere because I don’t have it. Chill. You’re being crazy. Look man, I don’t know why you can’t wait a few more weeks. What’s with you?” Deon sounded calm, but I knew better.

“Give me my money. If I don’t have my money next week, I'm coming for you.”

Those were the words that ran the gauntlet through my brain. The last conversation between Rocky and Deon. Deon loved the game. He and Rocky gambled with fire. I neglected to take it to the police, but my brother gave me the tape before he died. It was as if he had predicted his own death.

“Here, I need you to keep this receipt for a locker at Holbeck train station. The locker’s right next to it. Don’t go alone, Delph. Promise me. Take a person you trust. I would go with you, but since I’ll be dead already, probably not gonna happen.” He had smirked. “Rocky is gunning for me. I don’t trust him. If anything happens… take the tape to the police, okay?”

I kept the receipt locked away with a key in the bottom of my bedroom drawer. I never wanted to deal with it. Out of sight, out of mind. I planned on giving it to the cops… until they botched every part of my brother’s investigation. Rocky got away. I thought there was no way he would get away with what he did, but that was a gross untruth, and now I was brotherless.

Some nights I slept with the light on. Other nights, I slept at a friend’s house, so I wouldn’t be alone. It was hard to explain a sibling’s death over and over again. Everyone supported my grieving at the beginning, but after a while… I felt their growing annoyance at me about not getting on with my life.

 

 

The stickiness of Holbeck normally made me miserable, but given I was inside with a freezer box of an air conditioner while wearing a gas station jacket, I felt okay. I looked like one of the Eskimos living in an igloo. It was hard to readjust the thermostat. It was either too high or too low all the time.

Sighing with discontent, I counted the coins in the float and resumed work. There were a few customers at the pumps out front, so I waited for them to enter. Better that Holbeck Gas had customers, so my mind couldn’t run.

A few minutes after I’d handled the customers, a lady with a springy bounce in her step and long golden hair strode to the counter. She had movie star looks and didn’t look like anyone who belonged in Holbeck. I looked out through the smeared window to see where her car was at the pump, but couldn’t see anything. I frowned. She clearly wasn’t here for gas.

As she got closer I saw her eyes were green, and that shocked me even more. She was more striking close up.

“Hi, how are ya?” She came to the counter bold as could be.

“I’m doing fine, thanks. How are you?” I asked nervously. She obviously wanted something, but I had no idea what that could be. Maybe she was from out of town and had gotten lost?

“I’m good. My name is Angie Carmichael.”

With reservation, I stared at her outstretched hand with its manicured bright, red nail polish. I put my hand out reluctantly, as if I might receive an electric shock. “Nice to meet you, Angie. If you’re one of the new suppliers, Thomas isn’t in until tomorrow. You might want to come back then.” I assumed that’s what she wanted… because that’s all she could want.

Angie licked her lips but looked me dead in the eye. “That’s not why I’m here. I wanted to talk to you about a personal matter if you’re willing, because I think I can help.”

She wasn’t making sense to me. I tilted my head at her.

She scoffed ‒ flipping her blow dried hair that looked like something out of a Pantene commercial ‒ back from her shoulders. “Sorry, sorry. I’m not explaining myself properly. I’m an investigative reporter and I think I can help you… do you know what I mean?”

That thick, gluggy knot in my throat rose up again. She was here about my brother. Who is this woman? I didn’t know her, or trust her. So why did she think she could come around and ask me about my brother? Why did she want me to rehash the pain that couldn’t be resolved?

Her pretty green eyes were blinking innocently at me as if she had merely asked me to go out to lunch with her.

“I don’t know why you’re here, but I have a job to do, lady. I think you should leave.” I was annoyed at myself because my voice was shaky. I wanted to be strong for myself and my brother.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I’m coming on a little strong. I wrote a newspaper article a while back that included the murder of your brother. I want justice for you. I know there’s more to the story and want to bring you some peace of mind.” She paused for a minute as she addressed me.

I still didn’t know whether to believe her or not.

She took a white business card out of her bag, placing it on the counter. She slid it across to me under the plastic screen.

I picked it up and looked down at it. Angie Carmichael. Investigative journalist. There seemed to be a bunch of other numbers on the card, but I didn’t look at those. I saw her name and job title, that was it. “Thanks for the card, but no thanks.” My lips automatically synced into a fake smile that I normally reserved for customers.

“You’ll change your mind. Did you see the article I wrote?” she asked, not one bit turned off by my refusal.

“No, I didn’t see it.” I deadpanned.

“You should look at it. I have the paper here, so you can see that it’s legit. Check it out.” She pulled another magic trick out of her bag and slapped a newspaper with dog ears on the counter.

I snatched it and put it under the desk. “Thanks,” I said, snapping at her.

She didn’t seem to be getting the picture. “Give me a call, okay? I can help. I swear.”

I looked away as she walked out of the gas station. I admired her confidence, and started to think a little about what she said.

I didn’t have too much longer to think about it because the guy with the muscles from the Rebel Saints came to the same pump he used the last time and started to fill up his motorcycle tank. I watched his thick muscles in his black leather jacket as he pumped.

The lady reporter or whatever she was pulled out of the gas station and the thick lump dissolved. Who did she think she was bringing that up right in front of my face? I smoothed a hand through my long honey-colored hair, focusing on putting a new receipt roll into the cash register.

As soon as I finished and looked up, a gracious smile was waiting for me. It was attached to a man that sped up my heart. Too many emotions were running through me already, and now here he was.

“Hi, we meet again,” he said with too much enthusiasm.

His eyes though, they held a forlorn sadness that I resonated with. “Yeah well, I work at a gas station, that’s bound to happen,” I teased.

He’d picked up a packet of peanuts, covering his mouth with laughter at my stupid, sarcastic joke. “You’re funny. Too obvious.”

He didn’t take my lame defense badly and his warm smile made me want to laugh too. I cracked a small grin back.

“There’s a smile,” he said softly. “How much today?”

“Umm, that’s 40 dollars. You sure go through gas quick. You’re in here a lot,” I mentioned.

“I’m a road captain, so I live on my bike half the time. Plus, I get to come in here and say hi to you. It’s a win-win,” he said as he handed over his crumpled greenbacks.

Is he flirting with me? My face seemed to know because my cheeks were burning. “Thanks,” I mumbled with embarrassment as I handed him his change.

“You have a nice day, Delphia.” He winked at me.

I looked after him, wondering if I told him my name or not. I watched his sexy butt in his black jeans walk out of the door. I sighed wistfully, releasing the tight knot in my stomach and looking down to the front of my jacket. My name tag.

Of course, he knew my name.

I shook my head at my paranoia when a shine from the pump he was just at caught my eye. I stood on my tiptoes, looking out the window to take a closer look. Something was on the ground. I went out to the pump, making sure I had no customers. A breeze lifted across my face as I bent down to see that a key had been left on the ground. He wouldn’t get far without it unless it was a spare for something. I turned the key over in my fingers. Looked like it was a house key.

“Dude, you left your house key?” I said out loud. I turned it over in my hand to find an ID tag with a number. He put his number on his keys? I held the keys in my warm hand and took them back inside.

Now, I would have to call the Rebel Saint, and that made an excited kind of knot curl deep inside my stomach.