The bar was empty this early in the day, but he wasn't here for company. At Lucky's, only Bernard cleaning glasses behind the counter and Carlos, his second-in-command and what Rio might have called a best-friend, sat at the tall table with him, a bottle of tequila resting between the two of them. The 'No Good Girls Allowed' neon sign mocked him from the wall.
"Imma tear that shit down," Rio muttered as the fourth tequila shot burned down his throat, he eased the burn with a swing of cold beer.
Carlos rolled his large shoulders besides him, "It ain't gonna solve your problem."
"How the fuck do I solve my problem, uh?" Rio said slamming the shot glass on the table top.
Carlos chuckled filling the glass again, "First, you gonna get a helluva a headache."
"So be it," Rio shouted lifting his glass in the air.
"Then when you've slept it over, you call that premium fee lawyer of yours and get the kid custody."
That stopped the glass halfway to his mouth. "I can't."
Carlos stroked his large beard has Rio focused his attention back to the sign, "That bitch had you cunt-struck since she walked through those goddamn doors all those years ago. You a fool when it comes to that woman."
"Yous was here and I ain't ever denied it." Rio let it slip as he drank the remaining liquid, he wasn't wrong and Rio had no reason to pretend with Carlos, the first and possibly only person he'd shared that he had a daughter. "It'd be easy if 'twas about her. But it ain't, it 'bout the kid. If I went through a custody battle, I'd be only thinkin' 'bout me."
"I ain't seein' your point." Carlos gravelled as he sipped from his tequila, lento. Cause someone had to do the driving, it wouldn't be Rio tonight, not with he had already drunk. "It's your kid. It's your right."
"My point is that Emma already has a full life with all she needs. Elizabeth might be a lying bitch, but she's the best mother I've never seen." Rio served himself another, chugging it with the throwback of his head, "My point is that my kid already has a daddy."
Then he grabbed one of the snooker cues and slid it under the neon light, pulling with all his might and frustration. The end broke from the connector sending a blaze of sparks into the air, the sign flashed a couple of times until it finally died, hanging from the other end. Bernard was frozen mid glass cleaning, looking at them with boggled eyes until Rio plastered an irate look on him and he swiftly went back to cleaning.
"Feel better?" Carlos's smirk was barely visible under the thick beard.
Rio was starting to think that under all that chaotic mess was a plethoric babyface. He would keep that thought in mind if he ever needed to be punched in the nuts.
"No."
"Told you it wouldn't help, but this might."
Rio sniggered as Carlos handed him another shot, which he quickly drowned, slumping like a sad sack on the high stool. "I dunno what to do. I told Beth we done but can't stop feelin' I made a mistake. I can't stop thinkin' 'bout her either. Both of them. I— I always wanted a kid. And Emma, she just looks so much like her, with those huge blue eyes and pale skin and shit— She's so beautiful and smart, and kinda cunning." Rio knew he was grinning like a fool, he didn't care. "The lil' shit had me wrapped around her thumb since day one."
"The apple didn't fall too far from the tree, uh? Just like mommy." Carlos mumbled. That only earned him a frown from Rio, then his bear claw tapped his shoulder, almost sending his resting elbow out of the tabletop, "Kid's lucky tho, didn't come out with your ugly-ass face! Congratulations!"
"Shut the fuck up," Rio slumped under his breath, but both men were smiling when Rio added, "Tío Carlos."
That's when it happened. The door blasted open with a team of people jostling each other in, M4 carbines surveying and aimed, the tactical vests had FBI printed in big and bold yellow font.
Rio didn't resist, it would have been stupid to, following the orders he knelt down, fingers interlacing behind the back of his head. Turner walked in, smirking, as they recited his charges and rights.
Rio just smirked back. He was only stupid concerning one thing, Elizabeth Motherfucking Boland.
The disgusting proof of her husband's lies stared her right in the face. Beth never felt more humiliated in her life.
She'd sent Mary Pat on her way with a concocted plan to keep Boomer off their toes, wondering what kinda hurdle life was prepping for her to jump next when the phone rang with the news that Dean had been on a car accident. She dropped everything and ran to the hospital like the good lil' wifey she was set on being from now on.
Beth had honestly felt relieved when she was told he was going to be fine. The first hit to her pride was the face the doctor made as she babbled about cancer medication and side effects, then, the confused expression while she flicked through his file, and finally the pity as she confirmed they had taken his blood. Beth could stand many things but pity wasn't one of them.
She'd fell heavily onto the nearest chair, clutching the ziplock with her husband's valuables to her belly. For what seemed an interminable haze she had just sat there, the uncomfortable hospital chair squaring her ass into dull pain while she revived her husband dishonesty and her own voluntary naivety, until she had finally remembered that Mary was watching the kids, probably worried sick without any news of Dean. God! The woman didn't deserve the son she had. She'd dug through her purse, looking for her phone, only to find it dead. With a sigh of frustration, she was about to go in search of a payphone when she remembered the bag with Dean's things, his phone was in there.
She could have called it her sixth sense when a couple of unseen text messages prickled her interest. She didn't have the habit of going through his phone, but a tiny voice abraded her brain — What else has he been lying about?
The reminder of that bedazzled vagina floss added to the whole fake cancer tale quickly shifted her point of view. She didn't know his passcode, but this was Dean, whose choice of password was, lamely, the same, for everything. Her eyes had rolled to be back of her head, cringing when she unlocked the phone on the first go. She'd opened the first text without thinking twice.
There was no name attributed to the number and the text a pretty inoffensive "When?", but then she'd scrolled down, only to be confronted with a photo. A photo of a woman. A naked woman. A woman with jizz all over her petite and haughty breasts. A woman she knew. A woman whose son played in Danny's soccer team, a woman for whom Beth had baked tuna casseroles when her husband had tragically passed away.
The drooling emoji sent by Dean in response made her throat parched with revulsion. But there was more to be revolted about, so much more.
She scrolled through countless filthy texts and dick pics, Dean's dick pics. Different numbers belonging to nameless women - and there were a lot of women - on the other hand, the distasteful pick-up-lines and gross convos were kept the same. The photo gallery was a mix of her children smiling and naked bodies, some of them with very familiar faces. Her stomach turned as she was faced with a photo of herself, sleeping, Dean had to creep on her to take that, it was recent, a couple of weeks ago. It left her feeling violated on a whole new level. There were a few videos too, but she couldn't bother herself of going through the humiliation of seeing her husband fucking other women.
It was the dates that got to her. There were grainy nudes as old as 7 years ago stored in his icloud. Way before she'd gotten involved with a tattooed stranger in a one-night-stand.
Her belly churned, she felt the back of her eyes swollen but was incapable of shedding a tear. Not that she wanted to, not in this particular case, not for her very own gullibility. The waiting room seemed too small all of a sudden, too constricted even when there was anyone else there, she couldn't breathe, her throat closed, her chest lurched, tight and heavy. She bobbed forward, placing her head between her knees and took deep breaths, inhaling deeply through her nose, and exhaling slowly through her mouth.
All this time, all these years, played and manipulated. Pegged to a string of never-ending lies. Trapped because of her betrayal, because of how Dean liked to remind her so much, she was the one who had destroyed their marriage.
LIES... all of it. He didn't love her. He didn't care, he never did. To think she was set on forgiving the worst kind of scumbag in the word was just another nick to her pride.
The tv caught her attention at the mention of the Fine & Frugal robbery, Rio's handsome face replaced journalist's in the tv screen. Beth didn't know how to feel about it, seeing him cuffed and embarked into an FBI vehicle. Relief for sure. She didn't want to process the rest of it.
It didn't matter, their plan had worked. She'd done it. It was over.
A tiny smile spread over her lips. Well, almost. She still had to be over with Dean.
She got up, the ziplock bag fell to the floor with a clink of keys, she didn't bother with picking it up. She ringed Annie as she cat-walked through the corridors chutzpah-ting the shit out of her hips, her smile unfolding as the plan took shape in her mind.
Annie picked up at the 4th ring. "Why are you calling me from Dean's number?" She asked after Beth said her hello.
"Not important." Beth replied, "Listen, that lawyer of yours, she's good, right?"
"You gonna need to specify, I have a whole legal team at disposition." Annie quipped.
"The family one. The one that's taking care of your custody thing."
"Yeah, she's badass." She confirmed.
"Great. Text me her number."
Beth could feel Annie's frown even through the phone line, "Why?"
"Cause I'm getting divorced. Yesterday." Beth smiled as she pushed the double doors open, it had been a godawful long time since she felt this weightless, it was good, the crown she was about to wear would probably weight that much.
"It's not a great time to have my assets frozen, you know what I have at stake at the moment." Rio kept a neutral voice but his defence lawyer, and friend of more years than he could count, easily read his tension.
Gretchen Zorada's sharp voice cut through the interrogatory room's heavy silence. "My hands are tied here, Rio. There are only so many miracles even I can do."
But Rio knew her as well, and he didn't like what he was hearing. Not when he knew that this woman was like a rottweiler after a bone. They had their differences over the years but in that, they were the same. They never gave up until they got what they wanted.
Her body tensed as she sat straight as an arrow by the edge of the metal table, "They have a witness."
Rio felt his forehead wrinkling into a deep frown. The information although not totally surprising wasn't well received. "Is it a woman? Do you have a name?"
"I don't know, yet." The caramel gaze lost all its sweetness, her determined nose crinkled up, "But perhaps you know more than my sources?"
She snapped her tight and very professional ponytail at his silence, "Now is not the time to hide info from me. If you know who it is you have to tell me so I can fix it."
"No." His reply was too quick, Gretchen's eyes widened in surprise. "I'll deal with this personally."
Her full lips curved full of mockery, "Please don't tell me this was the aftermath of an enraged ex-girlfriend."
Rio wished it was that simple. Not that he had confirmation on his suspicions, not yet. Call it sixth sense or a burned back. It wouldn't be the first time she'd stabbed him in the back. It wouldn't be the first time he had underestimated her either. But it would be the last, for both cases.
Rio retributed one of his unreadable half-smiles, "Just get me out of here, Zorra ."
The use of her nickname, earn him a smile of the well defined red lips, "They have another 24 hours and they are going use them." Gretchen shrugged, "You're not exactly helping me here." She added grabbing her briefcase and made way to the door, "And I hate to be at a disadvantage."
The swollen red lips were full of irony now. Rio still remembered when they used to swell from his kisses a long time ago. They had romantically parted ways rather quickly, both smart enough to know it wasn't a good idea to mix business with pleasure, both knowing they had more to win keeping their business partnership over a few heated tosses on the sheets. The bickering friendship lingered tho.
Rio retributed the sarcasm, "Oh! How could I forget, darlin'."
She chuckled and winked, that perky ass hollering at him from the plaid fitted pants might have struck as an invitation and any other time he might have taken it. But his head and heart still roasted in the fire of another beautiful and far more dangerous woman.
Strong and intelligent women were his weakness, but only one was his goddamn curse. Possibly his demise.
Beth folded the black button-up shirt collar over her necklace, adjusting the bar of solid gold with her name engraved right under the first button. Her fingers traced the indentations in the necklace.
Elizabeth… Go home.
She shook her head to erase the memory and took a step back, observing her full attire in the mirror. Just a touch of bright red lipstick and she was good. A day ago she wouldn't have needed it, her lips inflamed by Rio's kisses. Her hand trembled a bit as she mapped their shape with the pointy end of the chapstick, the bed reflected in the mirror brought more to her mind than his kisses.
With a sigh, she drew the blazer's linen lapels close together and fastened the buttons. The fit cut hugged her curves and the matching chequered cigarette pants shaped her legs and butt nicely, aided furthermore by the 6-inch pumps. She looked good. She looked like him. A little.
Making way her way to the kitchen she opened a bottle of red wine, musing about her not so unintentional outfit choice as the wine glugged into the glass. Perhaps it had nothing to do with him, the dark colours simply representing her mood. Black seemed fitting for the occasion, after all, she was about to bury her marriage six feet under.
Wine glass clutched in hand, she sat at the dark mahogany dinner table, at the head of the table. Dean was about to cross that front door and she was about to serve him the petition. Sadly she would have to wait at least six months until the divorce was finalized, probably more since she doubted that Dean would agree to her terms. The lawyer had advised as much, not even the judge would accept those terms;
'I want everything. Alimony. The house. The cars. His business... I want his goddamn pants if I can get them.'
The lawyer stopped taking notes to look at her, 'What about the children Mrs Boland? Joint custody?'
'No, I want full custody.'
'Okay. Do you think your husband will accept the terms?' The woman asked.
'I doubt it."
'If you can't reach an agreement the process will take longer, not only that but the terms are far out there, Mrs Boland. The judge will dismiss them.'
'I don't care, just do your job. He manipulated me for 20 years… I want everything I have the right to and some more. And I want it ASAP.'
'Alright, Mrs Boland. All do what I can.'
'Do extra, that's what I am paying you for.' Beth retorted, 'And it's Marks. Elizabeth Marks.' It had been a minute since she last used her maiden name, it rolled hella good out of her tongue.
A sharky smile appeared on the lawyer's face, "Very well. I'll have a petition ready by the end of the day. We can have him served by early morning.'
'Can I do it? Serve the papers?'
The woman's smile broadened, 'It's unusual, but not a problem.'
'Good. I want to do it.'
And so the petition sat on a manila folder at the other end of the table. Beth took a sip of her wine. Looking back it was almost easy to see how sneakily Dean had been feeding her poisoned apples coated in shiny bright lies. It was humiliating how easily she'd taken the bait, how easily she had shaped to the form he wanted. Not that she was denying her own sins.
Beth had always strived for perfection. She was unsure when it started, this need to outshine herself. The early she could pinpoint was probably her childhood, right after Annie was born. In her little head, when her parents began to fight back to back it was because she was too loud at home, and always getting in trouble at school. Like when she broke Bobby Trucker's nose - for a very good reason - and both her parents were called to the principal office. They had screamed at each other so much that night, that she'd locked herself in her room and asked God to change her. Then she'd remembered that her mother always said that God didn't make things happen, people did. From that day on Beth believed she had to change in order to make other people happy.
It was something she quickly started to crave, the attention she got by pleasing others instead of pleasing herself. For always doing the "right" thing.
Hence six years of piano lessons when in reality she'd wanted to learn violin with all her heart.
Later in life Dean had been the ideal reliance for her delusions. To her need to be the super-mother and wife, the super-whatever-and-all. Her eagerness to please and be noticed, to be loved and perfect, had made her sacrifice her career, her body, her own will and a chunk of her soul.
But she was done with all that, being nice had taken her nowhere, in fact, had almost destroyed her.
In that hospital corridor, as she tallied all the things she'd lost on Dean, resuming her life to a mess of failed attempts and irrevocable errors, she'd deemed she had nothing left of herself.
It took seeing Rio like that, looking at the camera with that stern copious manner of his, as if being arrested was just a mere inconvenience, to realize she had just enough.
She had to quickly put aside the guilt feeling that started to swell in her chest. Rio had given her the opportunity to redeem herself more than once, showed her that she was capable of much more than her life resumed her to, simply by treating her like his equal. But she couldn't give herself the luxury to be guilty. It had been him or Emma. And that was not a choice.
At least that's was the version of the facts she'd sold to Annie and Ruby, the truth was uglier than that.
The truth was that she'd seasoned the whole thing with a thick rub of retribution before putting it in the oven for the FBI.
She'd wanted to hurt him just as bad as he had hurt her. She had wanted for him to taste his own venom, that she didn't need him either, show him that she wasn't a disposable pawn in his stupid chessboard, that she could fit into the crown, be a Queen, if she wanted to.
The question was did she want to?
All this time she had been doing this to either save her family or her own skin, to clean a mess after the other, it was like being sucked into quicksand, the more she did the more she was pulled under. But damn her if she hadn't felt cozy while she was there.
Finally, the front door opens, leaving her without a solid answer. Dean walked in looking perfectly fine, just his clothes a bit dishevelled, she hadn't fretted with taking a change back to the hospital, too busy communing her divorce demands.
He spotted her at the table and made a beeline towards her, there was a slight limp on his left leg. "What the hell Beth? I've been waiting for you for hours! Why didn't you pick me up? I had no wallet nor phone, the nurse said she gave my things to you! What the hell is going on?"
Beth smiled over her wine glass, "You made it home, didn't you? Why don't you sit down?" She added pointing to the chair in front of hers.
"Did something happen? Why didn't you come to pick me up? You didn't even come to see me!"
Beth hummed, "Yeah, something happened." She paused as his eyebrows raised in expectation, "We missed our dinner reservation."
His features softened as he smiled at her, "Yeah, we did. Twenty years, uh? It's a big date, isn't it? I had a surprise for you, but I guess it went to waste in the accident..."
Beth snickered, "That's okay. I got you a little something too." She nudged her wine glass towards the envelope, "Open up."
His smile beamed as he unfurled the string securing the envelope, he pulled the paper out, "What is it…" His head shot up as he read the big bold letters, Petition for Dissolution of Marriage. His jaws ticked, "What is the meaning of this, Beth?"
"Happy anniversary, honey! You've been served! That's what's up." His face was priceless. It would have given her great pleasure if she wasn't so hurt.
Beth took a large sip from the wine as her smiled died, "How long were you planning the lie to go on for? I mean... I am so stupid and naive, you could probably keep going forever, right?"
"What the fuck are you even talking about?" His voice flattening to a mumble towards the end, he glanced upstairs.
"Oh! Don't worry, they are at your mother's. I figured we should have this conversation alone." She smiled viciously, "I'm sure the kids will be exhilarated with your miraculous recovery!"
There was a half a second of surprise, but he quickly recovered. "What?" He tittered nervously.
"For the love of God! Don't even!" Beth spat between gritted teeth, "You sat next to me and told their little sad faces that you were sick, very sick! How could you?"
Dean livid gaze cut throughout the tense silence, his nostrils flared and his chest puffed, "What's wrong with you? You're acting completely crazy! It was our anniversary, I was coming home to surprise you with flowers and all, and you don't even bother to visit me after the accident? Now, this? Divorce? Do you know how much it cost me to forgive you? To put all the shit that's been happening between us behind me? I know I messed up big time, but I haven't done anything but try and redeem myself while you were screwing that bounce house guy! Bringing dirty money home! Placing our family in danger!"
Dean was heaving after his fervent elevator pitch, looking confused when she sprang into hysterical giggling. Her cheeks hurt, a stitch started to develop in her side, stinging like a bitch. Still, she couldn't stop. It took a while until she calmed down enough to talk, and Dean looking at her in utter bewilderment didn't help the situation.
"You have some nerve! Trying to pass as victim after all you've done to me? Seriously?" Beth said, still trying to suppress the last of her laugh, "My dirty money saved us! Because instead of looking out for our family's interests you were too busy suffocating in the breasts of your secretary, meanwhile, your free time was spent sticking your dick in whatever you could!" Dean's mouth hanged a bit, "Yeah... I know all about your lot of extracurricular activities!"
Beth took another sip of wine before chuckling brittlely, "Hmm, yeah, you should change your phone password if you're planning on being a serial cheater… I mean, you use 2fast2furious for everything. Or you also placed me beyond checking your phone? 'Cause that's how you see me, right? An idiot you can easily delude and manipulate?"
Dean's head dropped, in shame probably. Good. "Was it since the beginning? Did it start when we were dating? After we got married? After we had Kenny? Danny? Do you even remember?"
At first, Beth thought the sounds coming from him were sniffles, but when his head shot up fear gripped at her soul. His shoulders shook as his laugh thundered through the room, it was Beth's turn to look bewildered.
"Oh, Thank God!" He laughed harder, drying the corners of his eyes with the back of his hand, "You know, it was fun at the beginning, but it gets very tiring after a while! God! But it took you long enough, didn't it?"
She clutched at the small paring knife in her pocket. She'd wisely or by instinct grabbed it on the way out of the kitchen. Dean shot up from his chair, the wooden legs raked muffled on the thick rug, the sound raising the hairs at her nape. Where had this consuming fear come all of a sudden? She'd just put a violent criminal behind bars, for fuck's sake!
He made his way to the drinks cabinet, laughing when he scooted close to her chair and she jumped on her seat. The knife... already drawn and the flat of the blade pressed against her thigh.
"You are gonna get your things and leave this house immediately, accept my divorce terms and I'll think about you seeing the kids more than once a month," Beth said to his back, he chuckled and poured himself a hefty dose of whiskey.
"Hmmm." He hummed after drinking the whole thing in one large swig, jaws clenched as the amber liquid burned down his throat, "Did you pack my bags?"
"No! You have two perfectly capable hands, do it yourself!" She retributed only to be met with another disconcerting laugh.
"You know what your problem is?" He asked, sucking on his teeth, the sound never failed to raise her pulse to a horrifying frenzy, "You never think things all the way through."
Beth shot up from her chair as he strode towards her. The thud it made as it fell backwards was as shallow as the beating of her heart, "Stay away from me!" She snarled pointing the knife in his direction.
Dean stopped, lifting his arms in surrender but the smile over his lips made her chill to the bones, "What are gonna do with that? Tickle my skin?"
He took another step and Beth bounded backwards, her hand shaking. "Stop! I'm warning you!"
"Or what, Beth? What is that stupid airhead of yours going to do, uh?"
He leapt for her. His hands seized over her grip on the knife, she struggled with him, but she didn't have his strength, and he knew it, he was enjoying it, the crazed gleam in his eyes proof enough, and when he got tired of their little back-and-forth he quickly twisted her wrist backwards.
Beth screamed in agony, dropping the knife.
Then his open palm met her face so fucking hard that her head almost swivelled, the metallic taste of blood immediately flooded her mouth.
Dizzy, she staggered, tripping on the legs of the turned chair, there was no time to anything but fall, the hard side-landing took her breath away.
She didn't have a second to recover, a hand fisted her hair, hauling her up into the chokehold of his arm. Her nails dug into the exposed skin of his forearm, nasty alcoholic breath tickled the skin of her temple, making her sick to her stomach.
"Didn't we talk about this? Didn't I warn you that if you ever mentioned divorce again, I would kill you?" She whimpered as he pressured hard over her neck, his growing erection driving into her backside.
"I prefer to be dead than ever let you touch me again." She hissed, clawing her nails deeper, feeling his skin break, he didn't let go, nope, he squeezed harder.
"Oh honey, but you will!" He laughed, "And I won't even have to force you, you gonna open those pretty legs for me on your own volition."
"Like hell, I will!" She snarled, right as she stomped her stiletto heel into his foot.
It worked, she was freed as he growled in pain. She didn't waste a second, darting to the front door. Her head was hauled back, by the hair, tears sprouted in the back of her eyes. He shoved her into the sofa, her already hurt wrist mitigating most of her nosedive.
"Sit!" He growled, grabbing his foot, "Fucking bitch!"
"You're a sickening prick! I hate you!" She muttered, pulling herself together.
"Oh, don't worry! I love you enough for both of us." His hand flew to her neck, circling it snugly, barely hurting as he pressed his lips to hers. Beth's fingers aimed for his face, but he caught them before she could gouge out his eyes. She fought back, straining against him, but it was futile, he was stronger, faster, and she was helpless all over again. The thought scratched a desperate sob from the debts of her throat. The manhandling ceased when she stopped fighting. The caress of his fingers over her cheek was even worse than the kiss.
"Now that you're done with your little rebellion, can I talk?" He asked all sweet, but the wicked burning on his gaze didn't fool her.
She was about to send him somewhere where the sun didn't shine when he forced her jaws shut with one large hand, his fingers pinching into the soft skin of her face, painfully.
"I think you should hear me out before you say something you might regret. You see, everything you are, everything you have… is because of me, because I gave it to you!" He said slowly, each word drenched with anger, "And I can take it away just as easily."
Beth dodged the hand that came to scoot a lock of golden hair away from her eyes, the hand around her face double efforts in pressure, her lip curled as she tried to control herself. They both knew the only thing of value she had was her children.
"Now, this is what's gonna happen." He smiled, "As of this moment you're done with your sad middle-age crisis! We are going back to our normal lives and we gonna forget the last months ever happened. You're going back to your PTA, the playdates and your crafting shit, because let's be honest, that's all you have the talent for." Beth swallowed dry, her chest was heaving not with fear but a mix of fury, hurt and shame, "You're going to keep that pretty mouth shut and be the good little wifey you always been."
"Or what?" Beth hissed through her clenched jaws.
Dean smiled, in a way that she'd never seen, not even when he'd been at his worst. A wave of despair, clung, slick against her skin. "Or I'm going to have to have a conversation with that FBI guy... what's his name? Turner? Tell him all about what you, your bitch friend and sister been doing during your book club tea time."
A pang hit her stomach, but she forced herself to swallow it, forced herself to push a tight smile out of her lips, "You wouldn't… you'd be going down too. I think it's called an accessory. You don't have proof of anything either!"
"Oh, Bethie!" He sniggered, "All this newfound spunk of yours has me hard as a rock! But be my guest, try me, and see what happens…" He let go of her, by shoving her head brutally against the couch headrest, "Can you imagine, you and me, gone? Do you think my mother can handle the four of them? What about your sister? Do you think they would even let her see her kid? I mean, laundering money on top of a drug bust, doesn't that look pretty on paper! And Stan?" He laughed groggily, "Oh my god! Can you imagine his righteous face when he finds out what Ruby's lil' side hustle is?"
He awaited for her reaction, triumphant, as she laid paralyzed by the honed words. He knew exactly where to strike, both physically and emotionally.
What was she thinking? Come here and wait for him with nothing but her wits and a stupid paper? When was she gonna learn?
Her brain fought to find a solution, anything to make this stop, anything to halt the oppressive weight from crushing her chest. But he knew as well as she did that there was nothing.
"Don't do this… I won't… I can't… please!" She whispered the words. She should have kept her mouth shut. The satisfaction in his eye sickened her.
"Oh, Beth! But I'm not doing anything!" His knuckles caressed her cheek all the way down her breast, his finger lingered for a nauseous moment over the first button of her blazer, "You did this. This one is on you."
The button opened with what she assumed was a small snap, but in her head, it echoed as loud as church bells. A snivel shook its way out of her constricted throat. Her nails clawing her palm as she begged again, "Please…"
The fulfilment gleam on his eyes told her that he knew exactly what this was going to do to her. That this was what he wanted. Break her. And Beth was afraid she'd given him the tools to do it.
As he peeled away every piece of her clothing it felt like she was being stripped of her very own skin. He pushed her back on the sofa and waited patiently as she forced her thighs open for him, it obliterated every ounce of respect she'd built for herself. The victory glint as his icy blue gaze wavered over her naked body made her scream inside, the tears she'd been keeping at bay, threatened to shimmer over her lower eyelids. She refused to let him see her cry. But one treacherous clear line painted down her cheek.
"I know, I know..." He shushed her, cleaning the lonely tear with his thumb, "I love you too! We will be a family again, all of us, just like we are supposed to." He whispered, checking her out with two fingers. She winced, in pain, in shame... revulsion. None of it would stop him.
The first thrust took her dignity. But what was the price of her dignity, compared with the possibility of never seeing her children again?
The second took her will. She just stared vacantly at the shadow the side table lamp formed in the ceiling, and just let him do it.
But it was the third that took everything. Her jaws fused tightly together, her throat closed, her heartbeat slowed. A strange resignation enveloped her, but she wasn't as numb as she'd hoped for.
Previously denuded of her armour, with her walls conquered and her barriers plundered, she felt everything deeper than flesh and bone. Something happened— a split perhaps, but she couldn't figure what had broken just yet.
She stopped counting after that.
Rio held the DPD 27th precinct door open for Gretchen as they left the building. Him, impoverished of 180G's in bail fees. She, on the other hand, 20K richer. She curled her arm around his as they made the steps down.
"They let Carlos go early this morning. No charges. They are checking the books. You're shutdown. Literally."
"Do you have a name yet?" Rio asked on the last step.
"Not yet, that Turner is keeping it tight and sealed. But it might interest you that the three women that robbed Fine & Frugal the first time were on the witness list at F&F the second." Gretchen turned to him, those eyes slanted, sharp as blades. "One of which Agent Turner has marked down as a past lover of yours. Elizabeth Boland?"
Rio sighed has she handled him the bag with his things, he opened it to get his wallet, the golden Desert Eagle gleamed with the touch of a ray of light. "I'll take care of her. Just find out if she is the witness or not."
"I don't like this, Rio. It's personal. I don't question your end of the business, but you're putting mine in jeopardy here. You're paying me to win, that's something I can't do without the facts."
Sometimes he hated that his lawyer did her job so good. The last thing he wanted was to enter in a wrangle over Elizabeth. He wasn't in the mood, but he also knew that Gretchen was as stubborn as they came.
"Please don't offend my intelligence. I know you're curious about this woman, and yes, she is very likely responsible for this headache, but as I said before, I'll handle that myself. The FBI has already beaten around this bush many times, Z, and you've always made them wrap their own noose and hang it over their necks. This guy, Turner... he's a greedy mofo, who baths in super-hero complex every morning. Your favourite kind of snack."
"Oh, sweety! I've been all over that since he first started sniffing in your business. I'll have the name soon enough." She smiled smugly, but by the way Gretchen squared her shoulders, Rio knew she wasn't about to let it go, "If it makes you more comfortable, I don't think she is the witness. She robbed the grocery store and left the receipts for Turner. Those are not the actions of a person who is willing to talk or cut a deal."
Rio had figured as much. Think about her was all he did in that cell for the past 48 hours. Mostly of his hands curled tight around that elegant neck of hers, squeezing.
"I still need to talk to her, I need to know if there was something else. I still don't know how they connected you to the other small businesses." Gretchen said with a frown.
"I'd prefer to have that conversation with her myself." He said sharply.
"One more reason for me to do the talking! I don't know why but this woman messes with your head. For some reason, she is still alive, even when she got you arrested! I know you've taxed for less. And in my humble opinion, all of those are admirable feats. So, you wanna tell me what the hell is going on or—"
Rio sighed and squeezed the bridge of his nose. One of his many sins was pride. He wasn't willing to talk details over the worst error of judgment he'd made in his life. Admit that that woman had made a clod out of him was a hard pill to swallow.
But he knew how to take a defeat. He also knew how to rise and seize an advantage. A crucial step if he wanted to avoid a fail where it came to his daughter.
"Tell me somethin'. How should I proceed legally, if I'd just found out I had a child and I wanted the custody?"
Gretchen looked surprised for a second, "I'm not an expert in family law but it depends on many factors. The child's age, the kind of environment it's living in… Was the mother married when the child was conceived?" Rio nodded in confirmation, "Well, under Michigan law, the husband is the legal parent of every child born or conceived during the marriage. The biological father has no parental rights or responsibilities for said child. Unless the legal parent wants to revoke the paternity, it's nearly impossible for the biological father to obtain the custody."
Rio kicked a loose stone on the pavement, "So, I can't do anythin' basically?"
"Long shot, if you can prove the parents are unfit or the child is being abused. Holy shit! You have a kid with that woman?"
Before Rio could answer, Turner's voice came from the door. "It's not over yet."
Rio just rolled his eyes, tired of hearing him for the last two days, "Later, Z."
"I'll still need to talk to her," Gretchen said to his back.
"She gets sleazy when backed against a wall. Let me deal with it." Rio said over his shoulder. Oh, he had all the intentions of backing her against the wall, all of them walls.
Turner not satisfied with being ignored made his way to them. "This is just the beginning, D'Aquila. You can't run and you can't hide either."
"Does it look like I'm hiding, Turner? I would have come in have you asked nicely!" Rio tsked, "And the only place I'm running to is my shower, take this Fed stench outta me." Rio tapped two fingers to his temple in salute and strolled away. "See you real soon, yeah?"
Gretchen, couldn't but notice that Jimmy Turner couldn't control the thick of his jaws. "Your client is guilty Ms Zorada. There won't always be a gap for him to squirm through. The D.A. and I are working closely together, we have plenty on what to build this case. "
Gretchen smiled as sweetly as a wolf in lambskin, "Innocent until proven guilty. The law you serve is the same I follow, Agent Turner. Can't wait to see what you have!"
She flipped her channel shades and waved goodbye. The Fed really had a hard-on for Rio, uh? But it was like Rio said he was too eager. His precocious minute-man act might have cost him the whole case, and he knew it.
"I did something."
Ruby straight panicked at her words, saying it was PTSD level, that the tree house had completely messed her up, while Annie did her best to remain calm but didn't look too satisfied either.
"Do you want to hear this or not?" Beth urged.
Both women sat up straight with worried sighs and waited for her to continue.
"So, I'm on the freeway this morning, and instead of taking the Gratiot exit, I just keep driving. And I go all the way to the border." Their faces were priceless, especially when she said the next bit, "And then I go all the way to that craft store."
"You did a pop-by on Big Mike?" Annie glowered.
"Oh, my God. How's his foot?"
"What did he say?" Annie pressed.
"Well, I go straight up to him. He's up on this, like, forklift thing. And I say, Listen, just because Rio's out of the picture doesn't mean that we have to be. And he gets down, and he reaches into his pocket and he pushes a big fat gun to my forehead. And he says, I don't wanna deal with new players in Detroit. And I said, Bitch, we are Detroit."
Annie's and Ruby's mouth hanged a bit and Beth struggled to keep her face straight.
"Bitch, he could have shot you!" Ruby whispered.
"Yeah, well, he really didn't like what came next. So, I gave him a choice. I said, You're either with us or you're on your own. So, what's it gonna be, Big Michael?"
Big Michael. Both of them repeated at the same time looking at her like she'd transformed in someone else, a mixture of amazement and fear. It made Beth's dead pulse tick for a second.
"And he just looks at me for the longest time. And I'm like, All right, here it is. At least I'll go in a blaze of glory! And then… he shook my hand. And he loaded up the car. You guys, I have six huge boxes of wrapping paper in that car!"
Annie scoffed in amazement, Ruby was completely baffled.
Of course, it was a lie, she'd taken the Gratiot exit, the Canadian border never so far away. But it was how she'd imagined the encounter to have unfolded in her mind, when she'd wondered how the crown would have felt in her head.
That was before Dean had crushed the last of her, kicking her when she was already down, demanding her to give away the only other thing she valued in her life. Her girls' friendship;
'Where are you going in such a hurry? No cuddles?' Dean asked from the couch, while she picked up her pants from the floor.
She pressed the bundle of clothes against her body, her chest oppressed with all the things she wanted to shout at his disgusting face. But that was what he wanted, his gelid blue eyes taunted her, the conceived smile of his victory made a hole of shame in her soul. She turned away before she could say something she would regret the consequences of. Before it was too late and she gave him the satisfaction of breaking down in front of him.
He'd followed her into the bathroom, she'd almost closed the door, but he'd stuck his foot in just in time. Defeated, Beth put on her bathrobe and leaned on the vanity with a sigh.
Dean stood behind her, his eyes met hers in the mirror, 'What?' She asked tiredly.
'I asked where are you going.'
Beth sighed, 'I have a thing with the girls.'
'Oh, have you now?' His smirk had made her sick, she just wanted to be alone, to wash him out of her body. 'Hmmm... Okay, you can go this time.'
Beth could have almost laughed if the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach hadn't felt like an omen.
'I can go?' She asked raising her eyebrows, 'Do I need to get your permission now?'
Then he leaned over her shoulder, his torso glued to her back, tainting the bittersweet memories she'd compulsively hoarded from an elusive night.
'No, you don't need the permission.' He said, pressing himself against her back, 'The girls night are over from now on. There are no more binge nights on my couch, no more rosé emptied in my glasses or Bugles crumbs for me to step on in the morning. Over. Done.'
It almost happened, she almost crumbled. It took everything to hold herself together. She wondered if she'd pissed someone really important in another life. 'Cause for the life of her she had no idea what she'd done in this one to deserve any of this.
'I'm sick of Ruby sticking her nose around, showing up at all times like she owns the place. And your fucking annoying sister— she's not 17 anymore, she can solve her own goddamn problems without you. Get rid of them.'
Beth clenched her teeth, 'They are my family—'
He shook his head, brushing away the few strands of hair that covered her neck, 'Me and the kids are the only family that matters. You're gonna cut it… by the root.'
The "or else" was left unpronounced, he didn't need to say it was right there in his eye. Then she scrammed away from his touch, opening the door, 'Do you mind? I need to use the toilet— unless you wanna control that too.'
He laughed, 'Careful, Beth. You don't want to piss me off right as we made up. You know, I was thinking—' He added nodding towards her contraceptive pill on the marble countertop. 'We should have another baby.'
Her chest tightened with the aimed jab. 'Nope, I don't think so.'
He grabbed the box and threw it in the trash bin, stopping in front of her with a sickening grin, 'You'll get used to the idea.'
The first thing she did after closing the door on his face was recovering the pills from the bin. Like hell was she getting pregnant. She took every single little pill and threw the box back in the trash, then hid them in a container at the back of the vanity drawer. The other container there burned her hand as she accidentally touched it.
She'd let herself fall on the toilet lid, she sat there for what seemed hours before she'd finally cracked.
Even after she'd scrub herself under the shower till her skin was raw, Dean's smell still clung on her, toxic to her mind. His seed, still hot inside her, contaminating her linings.
It was like she was still on that sofa, the weight of him like an anchor, sinking and drowning her in a sea of despair.
That time Dean hadn't just taken her body. He hadn't just wound her flesh. That time was different, that time she felt something else shatter, her spirit.
For the second time in her whole life, Beth had wished she was as dead as she felt.
Even as she'd said it out loud, enumerating all the reasons she had to keep herself afloat: Kenny, Danny, Jane, Emma. Annie, Sadie. Ruby, Sara, Harry.
All the goods reason in the world hadn't deterred her from opening the vanity drawer and fishing out the stash of Oxy. The one she'd promised herself not to touch ever again.
She had remembered how disgusted she'd felt with herself when she'd wished to go on her knees and lick the fine powder the Mayor's wife had laid to waste in that restaurant restroom.
It still hadn't stopped her from popping the lid open nor from crushing one of the yellows rounds on the marble countertop.
Just once.
That's what she told herself right before she'd done the line, then the almost instant relief came and it hadn't matter anymore.
"Wait, you what?" Annie frowned.
"You can't be serious!" Ruby almost screamed.
Beth started to giggle until it was an uncontrollable bout of laugh. Her cheeks started to hurt along with the twinge to her heart. Maybe it was the second line she did right after she parked outside the diner, maybe it was funny because this was going exactly as she predicted.
"Who are you right now?" Ruby wheezed out of her pursed lips, not even bothered that people were looking as her voice gradually raised, "You know what Beth, not all of us here don't give a rat's ass about the consequences of our actions! And you might sleep well at night next to your husband but I don't! We were done with it! Done! Putting him in was the last of it! And now you do this?"
"I didn't hear you complain when this got Sara her kidney." Beth riposted, the immediate hurt in Ruby's face was another nail in her coffin. The grave was already dug anyways.
"You're right! And that's the big difference between us. I'm doing this for my family, but you? I'm not so sure anymore! 'Cause right now it sounds like you very much want to sit on the gangster's throne!" She shot up from the padded couch, "Don't count me in for this shit!"
Beth took a sip from her mug, feeling Annie's glare on her. "What?"
Annie's face flared in open incredulity, "Is it true? You wanna take Rio's spot?"
Beth just shrugged. It wasn't NOT true.
"I don't know what's going on with you lately, but I wish you trusted me enough to let me know."
Beth scoffed, "Please, you can't handle your own shit, what makes you think you can handle mine?"
"Wow! You're on a roll today, aren't you?" She said following Ruby's example and strolling to the doors, "Call me when you're finished chewing the lemons."
"Maybe I'll when you stop waiting for me to solve your problems!" Beth spat to her back.
"You know what—" Annie stopped with her hand on the handle, "You're alone on this one! Good luck!"
Beth made sure to finish her coffee before she left, she wasn't in a hurry. She sat in her car for a while, then she blasted the van's radio to max on some mildly depressing, half dreaming thing and drove, she just drove.
Making time before having to face her reality from now on, because time seemed to be all she had right now.
It was way past 11 pm when she finally parked in the driveway. She had no idea where she was or where she had been until she stopped on the stop sign that gave way to the cul-de-sac. But calling it parking was an understatement, Danny had left his bike laying outside, she'd just hit the fucking bumper.
Beth sighed, turning off the engine, she grabbed her purse and got out, squatting in front of the car to assess the damage. The handlebar had made a huge dent, she pulled it away but the wheel was stuck under the bumper. She tugged once, twice and a third time with a grunt of anger. It worked, it got unstuck. It also popped the damn thing from the clips and got her ass landed on the hard pavement. She sat there for a moment cursing to her insides, until her purse started to vibrate. She dug her phone out.
Two missing calls from Annie. Seven from Ruby. All the voice mails were increasingly frantic. Annie's pleading for her to pick up. By Ruby's fourth Beth finally learned why.
Rio had made bail.
The rest she didn't need to hear from them, she knew.
The devil himself was coming for her.