Chapter 12: Epiphany
Disclaimer: read the prologue
Changes in the book: Marco and Bella's oldest daughter's name has been changed to Bethany. I realized that she and the mother had the same name, so I changed it to avoid confusion.
Trigger Warnings: derogatory remarks that could offend (Unfortunately, there are people out there like these two upcoming characters); mentions of rape, drug abuse, child abuse, and suicide.
Before I start this chapter, I have one essential message I would like to share. Something far more sensitive than I usually write but it's necessary. For those who are struggling with addiction or a mental illness, whether you are struggling with drugs, alcohol, or self-worth - don't be afraid to speak up and ask for help. If you suspect someone is abusing or being abused whether it's physical, sexual, verbal, or emotional - speak up and report it. It's very important to know that we are not alone in this world. All lives do matter. It doesn't matter the age, gender, race, sexual orientation, or religion - You matter. There are people around us whether it's family, friends, an authority figure, a counselor - they care. Despite the evil and poison in this world, there are good people out there capable of love and compassion. We are a community, despite our flaws and differences, we must stand together and help one another. Remember, God is here. Even when we can't see Him, He is there taking care of us. He can chase our fears away, loves us even when we sin, forgives us when we did do something wrong, gives us strength when we feel weak, lifts us up when we are down, reminds us that He has a plan even when life isn't fair. The proof is written in His Word. Look up Jeremiah 29:11 in the Bible, better yet, I'll give you the verse.
"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."
Please, don't forget it.
Now onto the chapter...
...
Mia embraced the wind blowing through her hair and the sun darkening her complexion as the taxi took her across town from World Gym to Gotham General.
Miss Scott talked about Nick's time in Baltimore, showed the girl pictures on her phone. His selfies showed he was having a blast with his new baseball friends. Nick claimed the drafting process was brutal and nerve-wracking because of the forty rounds. Miss Scott asked why they couldn't find his name on the drafting roster online, Nick dismissed the question by telling his mother that he had to go because of practice.
"He's hiding something," Miss Scott uttered as she scrolled the MLB drafting webpage on her phone. "He says he's on the team, but I don't see his name anywhere. Do you?"
Mia shrugged, "Maybe they forgot to put his name in. We did hear him playing in the background."
"Maybe..." Miss Scott drawled, not sounding convinced. She was a mother, despite being on bed rest, her intuition had never failed her.
"Remember Nick's high school play?" Mia asked. "'The Little Shop of Horrors'?"
Miss Scott nodded with an amusing smile, "Mm-hm. He looked so adorable in that dentist uniform."
"Yes, he did," Mia agreed. "Do you remember what happened when we looked at the pamphlet, Mrs. - Miss Scott? You were so mad at the school for misspelling his name wrong. At graduation, the MC skipped his name."
"I was livid."
"Yes, you were. You practic-practically screamed his name out loud for all to hear. You tried to take over the MC role."
"Tried? I did take over," Miss Scott laughed. "Poor Nicky. He refused to show his face afterward. He was so embarrassed, he ran back to the car and drove out of the school parking lot, leaving us in the pouring rain."
Mia recalled them standing outside under the building's hood. Miss Scott told Mia to call him - more like guilt-tripped him - into driving back to the entrance of the school. He may have a temper but at least, he had a conscience.
"Well, not seeing my son's name on the roster is unacceptable," Miss Scott dismissed the webpage to look up Baltimore's phone number. "I'm gonna call them and demand why my son isn't on their page."
"I don't - I don't think that's a good idea, Miss Scott," Mia debated whether to confiscate the woman's phone or not.
"Why not?" Miss Scott groaned in frustration that she couldn't find the number to call the MLB people. "I know you don't like conflict, sweetie, but this has to be remedied."
"But Nick isn't going to like it, though," Mia retorted softly. "He's a grown man. When he finds out his mother embarrassed him-"
"This isn't going to embarrass him. I just want what's best for my son!" Miss Scott snapped, startling the girl. There was a long awkward between them.
"Miss Scott, I'm sorry, I-"
"Quit saying you're sorry," Miss Scott raised a hand, closing her eyes briefly and taking a deep breath. "I know that you don't have a mother in your life. Mr. Sal may have sheltered you, preventing you from becoming the strong woman you could've been, but you are marrying my son. I'm telling you, as your future mother, that sooner or later you have to make a choice. These people out there," Miss Scott gestured the door, "don't care about us or our needs. They're going to run over us and leave us for dead, and maybe laugh about it after. If you're going to marry my son, you have to build yourself a wall and protect your loved ones inside it, because sooner or later, it will come crashing down... unexpectedly." Her voice cracked. All the pain and sorrow, that she had kept to herself for too long, had burst into flames. She broke down into tears as she rambled on about her true feelings, something that Mia didn't expect.
"You just have to lie there and suffer, and you can't do a thing about it. You become a burden to your son - dead weight..."
Miss Scott looked up at Mia's crying face, gasping in horror at what had transpired from her own mouth, "Oh my god! What did I... Oh my god, Mia, I am so sorry."
Mia shook her head, dismissing the apologies while wiping her own tears from her face, "No. No. No. It's - It's okay." In truth, she's starting to get used to being screamed at. She could almost hear Mr. Sionis mispronouncing her name in a condescending tone, the customers cursing at her for not bringing their drinks fast enough. She almost cried when Tupeng called her stupid for putting herself in the hot seat that wasn't hers, to begin with. She would be lying if she said the truth wasn't painful nor unexpected, especially from Miss Scott of all people to put her down.
"No, it's not," Miss Scott rambled. "That was totally uncalled for. You are going through so much already, working at a nightclub and all. I never pegged as the type to work in a place so risque-"
"It's not your fault, Miss Scott-"
"Please, call me 'Mom'."
"Mom," Mia grasped the woman's hand, caressing the back with her thumb. She tried to soothe Miss Scott in the same way Nick could when he was here. "What's happening to you is out of your control. Nick and I - we understand that."
Miss Scott patted the girl's hand, pressed her lips in a thin line in hesitation. This time she was carefully thinking of what to say before speaking them out loud.
"You two are good kids - so kind and optimistic. Sal did a good job raising you. Pay no attention to what I said; he's a good man."
"Really, Mom," Mia insisted, forcing out a smile. Her eyes resumed the burn, tears fighting to escape. "It's okay," she whispered as Miss Scott released her hand.
"No, it's not. To... To tell you the truth... I guess I'm a little jealous of him," Miss Scott admitted. "He's out there on his feet, while I..." She sniffled her nose and clenched the sheets, wrinkling them in disgust. "I feel so vulnerable and worthless, right now."
"You're not-"
"Yes. Yes, I am. I can't go back to my job. I can't pay my bills. I can't eat real food - this hospital sucks with a capital S. I can't be there for my son while he's out there playing. I feel like I'm losing him already, and he's not married yet." Miss Scott breathed out heavily. "Nobody will be there..." Miss Scott paused in deep consideration before she shook her head in disagreement. "No, that may not be true. Greg told me I would pay for my pride one day. No doubt, he is tracking our son, right now, pretend to be the good guy, convince Nick that he's better off without me..."
Mia remained silent for she didn't have the words or the experience to offer advice. She hadn't gone through what Miss Scott had gone through. The mother had to put up with the showdown between her and Mr. Gage. All the tricks and stunts he pulled for Nick to see who was the better parent. Nick did see who was the better parent, and that parent won custody by his testimony. Mr. Gage turned his own son against him, not Miss Scott. That's why Nick had changed his last name.
"but he hates his father as much as I do," Miss Scott concluded. "He knows who Greg is. He has my scorn... I don't know if I should feel proud or terrible about it."
The divorced Mrs. Gage proved to be stronger than what she had led on, the same mother as she was, even in bed. If only Miss Scott could see that.
Nurse Taylor entered the room with a cheery attitude as always, coming to check on Miss Scott's vitals. The mother breathed heavily in exhaustion as she pulled down the collar of her gown and stretched her arms out, answering the same questions the nurse had asked her every day. She memorized the routine for two months now.
Mia turned away to give the women some privacy and lifted the slat from the blinds to see the view. Throughout her time working in the hell club, Mia complained about not seeing the sunset every day. Six out of seven. She wondered when was the last time Miss Scott had embraced the outside world. Mia thought she was being held captive, Miss Scott was having it worse than her. That's when the idea came to mind.
Before Nurse Taylor could even suggest 'resting' for the umpteenth time, Mia asked her a question that caught her and the patient off guard.
"Is she well enough to go outside?"
Miss Scott blinked, raising her eyes at the stunned nurse to hear her response.
"Pardon?" The nurse wrinkled her brows in confusion as if Mia had said something ridiculous.
"For one day," Mia whispered. "Can - Can't she come outside for one day?" The nurse's facial expression remained the same, her silence forced Mia to talk some more. "I - I really want to get started on - on my wedding plans: find a dress, a venue... Nick isn't here, but I want his mother's help to give me some idea."
"Um..." Nurse Taylor blinked, finally gaining a voice to respond to Mia's quiet request. "That's... That's very sweet. And I want to congratulate you two on your engagement. I'm so happy for you."
Mia waited for the 'but' to come, there's always a catch.
"But-" there it was "you have to take it up with Dr. Bedford. He has a say on whether or not Allison is allowed to leave. Her condition is severe and is very weak-"
"Excuse me?" Miss Scott lifted a finger, grinning widely at Nurse Taylor's direction in a non-friendly way. "I'm going to stop you right there. Didn't you clarify to me that my vitals are fine and my heart is stable?"
Nurse Taylor averted her eyes at her clipboard, clearing her throat. This woman didn't expect to be interrogated by her own patient, "Yes. Yes, I did, but-"
"So there should be no problem going out for an hour or two?"
"Mrs. Gage-"
"I'm not married," Allison cut the nurse off, the fake friendliness left her voice. "I am Alison Scott, happilysingle." Her true colors coming to light again. Mia sat down, looking between Miss Scott and the door, debating whether to run or pretend to be invisible. The patient's heart monitor started to beep louder. This wasn't going to go well with Miss Scott's condition, and Mia might be responsible for an upcoming accidental death.
"I'm sorry, Allison. Could you please calm down?"
"You know what, Genny. I always hated this hospital," Miss Scott bluntly stated. "Do you know why I hate this hospital?"
"Um..." Nurse Taylor's eyes darted back and forth, trying to come up with a good reason. She didn't expect her patient to become erratic, though it didn't help that she was stuck in this room for two months; it was understandable. "The - Because The Joker blew it up eleven years ago?"
Allison laughed, the kind that made the women's skin crawl, the kind that could compete with Harley's. This was escalating too quickly for comfort. "Wrong! To be frank, Genny, a part of me was glad that Joker blew this joint up! It was unfortunate, however, that Bruce fuckin' Wayne offered funds to have it rebuild, but that's beside the point. I hate this place because this is the place where I met my ex."
"I'm sorry, Miss Scott, but that's not-"
"And this is the place where the unprofessionalism takes place, and how stupid I was to work here and look the other way when all shit broke loose. I can't believe you people allowed Greg to come visit me, taunt me, and not expect him to stress me out when you guys specifically told me to 'relax'," the woman air quoted the latter. "It kinda contradicts things for my health, don't you think? You know he is no longer family, Genny, why would you allow him to come near me?" Allison's eyes widened when another reason on her hate list came to mind, "Oh yeah, did I forget to mention how lazy the security in this place is?"
Did these two use to be friends? When did Nick's father pay Miss Scott a visit? Did Nick know about it? To be fair, how was this the nurse's fault? Mia watched the heart monitor go up. Her leg bobbed up and down, completely a nervous wreck. She covered her ears, blocking the racket around her - the racket that she caused. Mia wanted nothing more than to crawl and die, right now.
"Okay, I am going to find Dr. Bedford," Nurse Taylor suggested lightly, "and recommend restraints-"
"Mia, find me a wheelchair," Allison commanded. Mia perked at her name, she looked to be a frightened deer in headlights. The nurse had finally lost her cool, barking at Mia to sit back down.
"Allison, you're not well."
"And I wonder why that is. Dr. Bedford says bed rest is good for me, but all it's doing is driving me mad! I'm better off at Arkham Asylum than this prison cell." Before they knew it, Allison threw the sheets off her legs, swinging off the edge of the bed. She pressed Mia to go find a wheelchair. She announced that she wasn't going to leave for one day. She planned to be discharged from this place permanently. Mia hurried out to oblige her monster-in-law's request. Meanwhile, Nurse Taylor was trying to talk to her former friend out of this epiphany. This was madness.
"Allison, you can't leave!"
"Actually, I can," Miss Scott retorted, unclipping her finger from the heart monitor, finally ending the obnoxious beeping. "Could you be a dear and tell Dr. Bedford that I won't be needing his services anymore?"
"Allison, don't do anything you regret, your health-"
"is going to be in the hands of another who doesn't play golf in a country club and isn't kissing Greg's ass! Mia!" Miss Scott started to yank the IV from her arm, but the nurse prevented the bloody mess by offering a hand. Genny grabbed the necessary supplies needed to bandage the injection sight while grumbling how Dr. Bedford wasn't going to like this.
"You mean, Greg isn't going to like this?" Allison wondered. Before Genny could say a word, Mia returned with a wheelchair.
"Thank you, sweetie," Miss Scott uttered, stumbling her feet to fetch her clothes. Mia offered assistance but Miss Scott declined more politely than she was before. Allison asked Mia to call a cab to take them home as she entered the bathroom to put on her clothes.
Mia faced the nurse, whose expression matched hers. They were completely stunned, slowly processing what just occurred. They hadn't seen Allison acted this way before. Miss Scott was right that her months in a hospital was driving her insane. Months without the wind filling her lungs and sun heating her face could ruin anyone's psyche. Months of patience thinning out until there was none left. How Allison handled it was questionable but understandable. Fortunately, she was sane enough to suggest going to another doctor. She wasn't completely suicidal, yet. How was Nick going to react to this? If Mia had to guess, he would've been proud.
Before the mother and daughter-in-law could officially leave Gotham General for good, after signing the discharge papers, they stopped by the gift shop. Mia planned to buy a welcome gift for Rosalie's grandchild. Unfortunately, she couldn't pay Rosalie or Daniella's baby a visit, because it turned out that Daniella didn't give birth at a hospital but at home. When Mia asked for Rosalie's address, Tupeng declined for its private information. If Rosalie wanted Mia to come over, she should've given Mia the address herself. They picked out a fluffy, stuffed elephant and a sentimental card for the mother. Mia planned to give the gift bag to Rosalie in person, the day the maid resumes her cleaning duties.
The two spent the rest of the day together in flower and wedding dress shops, an Italian restaurant (Miss Scott's favorite cuisine), and possible locations for the venue. Allison may have had a bad case of hay fever, but the lady didn't mind it one bit. She embraced the air as much as she could, making up for all the times she was stuck in the cheap prison cell called Gotham General. The woman was in tears, mentally slapping herself for not making this decision in the first place. It was as if she was being held captive by all the bad memories from the past and didn't know how to express it properly to move on. Now Allison Scott had cut ties with her ex for good, determined to find a doctor who didn't care about Greg or his income, and live a full life for his son and future daughter-in-law. The smiley selfie, she and Mia took for Nick, showed that there was still hope for a bright future.
...
Indeed the future seemed bright this week.
Sal had taken the time to come out of the bodega and created a fund for his business with the help of his friends including Killer Kween. He attended the roller derby to cook for the attendees and skaters alike, drawing business to his shop. All wanted more than a taste of Sal's fresh cooking.
Harley Quinn was called Killer Kween for a reason. On Saturday morning's derby, she knocked down three opponents in blue, breaking one's nose in the process. She was the top skater in the rink, awarding the Brooklyn Bruisers the victory they had longed for. After spending quality time with Sal and his dog, Harley Quinn opened up to the possibility of new love. Although it wasn't a man or a dog she had in mind when she had visited Murray's exotic pet store that day.
By her clapping hands and giddy smile, it was indeed love at first light when she spotted the laughing hyena in a cage. Dave Murray's price for the pet evolved more than cash.
"I take payment in kind," he whispered in a suggestive tone. Harley cringed in disgust if only she could afford the hyena in cash. No matter. Harley fulfilled the animal's carnivorous appetite before the oral transaction could happen. Her new baby feasted on him all the way home.
Nick stayed in touch with his mother and fiance, happy to hear that his mother returned home where she belonged. However, he disappointed them by admitting that the coach wouldn't put him on the field yet, but as a substitute. It was frustrating, traveling all the way to Baltimore just to watch his teammates lose, but at least, he was getting paid.
Allison moved her treatment plan over to Doctor Nancy Savrides at Wayne Memorial. Allison still required a pacemaker for her heart condition, though Doctor Savrides believed that it wasn't severe enough to be on bed rest as Dr. Bedford suggested. With new medication prescribed by her new doctor, Allison had never felt so alive and better in months, enough to return to what she loved to do - arrange fruits and flowers.
Without a head chef or a menu, the club's kitchen had to be closed for the time being, which didn't change the numbers because most of the patrons buy alcohol over frozen food anyway. From what Tupeng had overheard upstairs, finding a loyal, qualified chef with balls proved difficult to Roman, though the boss wouldn't admit it out loud. There were a few applicants but none of them reached the man's high expectations.
Fortunately, Mia kept his mind off things temporarily by coming over every morning to clean the condo and cook him breakfast with him watching her every move. They had made some small talk, whether it was about Roman's collection or Mia's engagement. She didn't feel comfortable answering the personal questions regarding her wedding or Nick but vaguely answered him with a simple 'I don't know' or 'Nick and I haven't talked about it, yet'. He did mention giving the happy couple a wedding present. What could it be? Mia didn't know. She was happy that Roman was no longer pointing a gun or screaming her way.
Mia was even happier to afford her own unlimited phone plan, no longer needing to depend on Tupeng for that one. Her phone calls with Nick were tolerable but nothing compared to seeing him in the flesh. She must endure his absence as well as her current profession. She wasn't going to lie, life as a nightclub waitress did have its perks: the tips, the good people, the entertainment (even though the partygoers hardly cared about the singer behind the microphone), and most of the staff had her back when some of the customers became problematic.
...
As for the Marco disappearance case that Montoya and Munroe were working on, they followed the names who were involved in the rape incident. The supposed accomplice, Marco Ramirez, drove his van to the street corner in Midtown, allowing two alcohol vendors - Gary Newton and Xander Fredricks to take part in the gangbang. Both had a history of inappropriate behavior against women.
The detectives tracked the pair down in the Little Italy neighborhood. Both were in the middle of their shift, unloading cases of alcohol for Falcone's Italian restaurant. Munroe suggested to let him do the talking. These men could potentially open up to another guy than a strong woman like Renee. Montoya didn't acknowledge him, continued to approach the people of interest in silence. Munroe may have his methods of being the good cop, but Montoya refused to act all sweet.
"Gary Newton, Xander Fredricks," Montoya called for their attention.
The vendor ceased their movements on cue. The dark, full-haired man - Xander Fredricks - was squatting in the back of their black van. His shaved head partner - Gary Newton - stood outside with a Bud Light case in his hands. Both looked like deers in headlights but quickly masked their expressions with calmness.
"Depends on who's asking," Gary challenged.
Montoya flashed her badge, while Munroe was struggling to unlatch the badge from his pocket.
"I'm Renee Montoya, and this is Tim Munroe," Montoya introduced. "We're both detectives from the GCPD."
"Detectives?" The man laughed, dropping the case back inside the truck. "Oh, thank god! Thought you two were someone different." His partner leaped outside to face the detectives properly.
"Oh?" Munroe raised his brows. "Who did you think we were?"
"No one important, bro," Xander flashed them with his pearly white smile. He could afford dental insurance, unlike his partner. "No offense but you two don't look like cops..." He laughed at the non-amusing expressions on the detectives' faces. "I'm kidding. Just kidding. Why so serious?"
"Anyway, what can we do for you, officers?" Gary asked. "We're a little busy."
"We want to know about the rape accusation back in September 2018," Munroe declared. Both vendors either pinched their brows or formed a lost look on their faces.
"What rape?" Xander shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. "We don't know what you're talking about."
"Two women, one soliciting for sex," Montoya explained. "Her friend accused you two of raping them-"
"Woah, sweetheart," Gary raised his hands defensively, receiving a harsh look from the woman detective. "If a rape did take place shouldn't one of us be in prison by now?"
"But you two did have sex with a prostitute."
"Yeah, and we had to pay a big fine for that," Xander frowned. "If Kickass tries to point the finger at us, again, I swear-"
"You'll what?" Montoya challenged, pulling her hand back for the cuffs. Munroe placed a hand on Montoya's shoulder, urging her to keep her cool. Meanwhile, Gary glared at his friend, ushering him to do the same.
"So sorry about him," Gary apologized. "It's just hard for us men - you know - the MeToo thing and all." He turned to Montoya's partner. "You understand, don't you? I mean, I'm sure your lady police friends -" he gestured Montoya, "exaggerate when you banged them on the job - almost too hard - don't they?" If only these guys knew that Montoya wasn't like that at all.
Munroe scoffed, "First of all, ew." Montoya rolled her eyes, thinking the exact same thing. "Second, we're not here for that," he pulled out his phone to show Marco's mugshot photo. "Recognize him?"
Both squinted their eyes at the man's bearded, puffy face. It took a while for them to figure out the driver of the vehicle, too long for Montoya's liking.
"Oh... yeah," Xander nodded. "Yeah, I remember him. He's the guy on the news, right? The guy who went missing?"
"And the driver of the van you raped those girls in," Montoya added.
Gary wagged a finger and clicked his tongue in a scolding manner, "Now. Now. Now, detective. We were never convicted of such a horrendous crime. Even if we did, those sluts should know better than to open their legs like a bitch in heat for a penny. Really pathetic, don't you think?"
"How did you know him?" Munroe pressed.
Xander shrugged, "Just ran into him at the bar, more like he approached us with all smiles - very friendly." He averted his eyes from Montoya's slit gaze. "We talked and decided to have a bit of fun. We got the booze and he got the van."
"Go on," Montoya instructed, finding it hard to believe that this man would sneak away and cheat on his loyal wife. She also found it weird how Xander was exaggerating the pronoun usage for Marco.
"Anyway, found these chicks in the corner. They were basically throwing themselves at us, begging us to fuck them, so..." Gary chuckled, "we did. Sparing you the details, they basically had the best night of their lives."
"Was it so good that one of them accused you two of raping her and her friend?" Montoya challenged. "As we recall one of them wasn't even a prostitute."
"That one was jealous, didn't get it as good as Kickass."
"Who-"
"Sorry, the white girl with purple hair," Xander circled a hand around his head. "I think it's a wig. Damn, what was her real name?"
Munroe opened his mouth to say it, "Deb-"
"You know what? It doesn't matter," Xander dismissed the question. "Bottom line is we didn't rape nobody."
"What makes you think the other girl didn't have it good as Kickass?" Munroe asked. "Didn't you two take turns performing both oral and anal sex on both women?"
"Both orally? Yes," Xander confirmed. "And when Gary was going to fuck that black girl in the ass, we realized..." Xander closed his eyes as if he was trying to shake the horror in the realization.
"What?" Montoya asked. "That the black woman was-"
"A dude, yes!" Gary cried in disgust. "Balls and all! I nearly puked on him! She didn't tell us-"
"Who she?"
There was a pause on both parties, clearly, they were trying to withhold something from the police - something significant.
Munroe warned them to cooperate, or they would be charged with obstruction. He looked at Montoya for approval, but her expression remained neutral. In fact, she merely rolled her eyes at him, continuing the interrogation.
"Hey, I thought you were the good cop," Gary whined at Munroe.
"I suggest you listen to him, boys. A man is missing - the same man you two acquainted with in the past," Montoya snapped. "Do you want to come to the station in cuffs again? I have no problem with that," she reached her hand back for the cuffs, proving that she wasn't playing.
"The girl, " Xander replied hastily. "The magenta hooker."
"Don't you mean the other one?" Munroe recalling Kylie Donavan admitting to being the hooker. Was her friend a prostitute too? It didn't say on the police report.
"No, Kickass," Gary clarified. "She was the one who approached our vehicle, asking if we wanted to have a good time, and we did. As for the queer, he just stood there, pretending to look pretty for us. We'd almost fell for it, too. The joke's on us. Bleh!" He stuck his tongue out in disgust.
Renee wished, more than anything, to arrest these guys right now for breathing, even Munroe cringed at Gary's choice of words. Despite it all, both detectives were forced to remain professional.
"What about Marco? What did he do?" Munroe wondered.
"Who?" Xander asked, receiving a slap in the chest by his friend. "Oh right, the guy."
"Nothing. Just watched from the driver's seat..." Gary trailed off, eventually opened his mouth to correct himself. "Well, actually, he offered me a beer bottle to use as a substitute. No way I was going to shove my dick inside that dude's ass; I don't play that way."
"Never would've guessed," Montoya grumbled.
"Other than that, he just sat in the driver's seat, quiet as a mouse, and watched the action through the rearview mirror... maybe masturbated in hiding, I don't know. He could be one of those peeping toms. More into watching than actually taking part."
"Except for the bottle and the van. Did Kylie Donavan verbally allow you to shove that bottle inside her?" Montoya asked, despite knowing Gary's answer already.
"Of course. Consent and compromise, that's what we gentlemen do."
Montoya couldn't help but scoff and roll her eyes. Gentlemen? Not according to their rap sheet.
"Believe what you want," Xander said, "but like we told the cops, they were willing participants. We didn't rape nobody and neither did that Marcus fella."
"Marco," she corrected.
"Whatever. Our only mistake is fucking a hooker. We had no idea-"
"You found them in a street corner, offering you guys a good time," Munroe pointed out. "Doesn't that scream out 'prostitution' to you?"
"Look," Gary raised his hands, the smugness on his face hadn't left him. "Bottom line is we fucked a hooker. Everybody knows that prostitution is a cash-only basis, so of course, the judge is going to believe we'd paid for sex."
Before the detectives could question them further about Marco, the manager of the restaurant opened the door, demanding why no one was coming in with cases of beer. That was the end of the questions, but Montoya promised that she would back, next time, with cuffs.
"I don't like this," Montoya stated when they were in the car.
"What?" Munroe asked, turning the key to start the engine. "That they're assholes? That they fucked a prostitute? The cork in the ass?" The latter earned a harsh look from Renee, Tim immediately apologized for his poor choice of words.
"I mean, the relationship between them and Marco. Their story of how they met seems... off. According to his friends and his wife, Marco was the type of guy who keeps shit to himself, very protective. He isn't the type to approach anybody especially ones who could pose a threat."
"Does it matter how they met? Marco was there at the scene when the sex happened. The police found his vehicle, matching the girls' description. The girls pointed Marco in the lineup. Marco, himself, admitted to being there. What more could you want? Isn't this what we wanted?"
"Yeah, but... did you see how long they looked at the photo? The hesitation in their voices when we asked about Marco? The look on Gary's face, Munroe. It's almost like he saw Marco for the very first time."
"Renee, it's almost been a year when it happened. Of course, they would hesitate. You say that Marco is protective, well, maybe he is protecting his best interests by scaring Miss Donavan into submission."
"Why couldn't he just beat her up?" Renee challenged. "He's a man that likes to do things himself. He was charged with assault. Watching someone's rape is not in his profile. He has a daughter for fuck's sake."
"Oh, come on, Montoya!" Munroe complained. "You're saying that they all lied about him being there, including those girls?"
"Kylie lied about being an escort."
"Why would she do that?"
"Don't you guys have a bro code?"
The man couldn't argue after that, huffing and dropping his hand on the steering wheel in defeat. He didn't debate with Renee anymore on this subject. He asked for their next move, and Renee instructed him to drive to the house of another person of interest - Kylie Donavan.
...
They pulled up to The Royal motel in the Diamond District. The shape, the friendliness, and the cleanliness of the place didn't live up to the name. Rumor had it that there were plans to demolish and rebuild it as a hotel instead.
Renee told Munroe to wait in the car for Kylie might not be willing to open up to men like Munroe. He reluctantly stayed behind, instructing Renee to call him if she required back up.
"Be careful," he said.
"Okay, whatever," Renne was her response before getting out of the vehicle. She walked to the desk and asked for Kylie's room number. The man hesitated until Renee flashed her badge. Room 13 was where Kylie stayed.
Instead of Kylie answering the door, it revealed her roommate, Terry. A man was shorter than Kylie by one foot with slicked-back blonde hair and glasses with glittery eye makeup and glossy lips. He was dressed in a suit and tie, almost like he was ready for a business meeting. He seemed bubbly to Renee's liking, but at least, he was cooperative.
Terry ushered her inside and asked if she wanted anything to drink; Renee declined. She remained standing as she waited for Kylie to come out of the bathroom. Terry knocked on the door and announced Renee's presence. Renee couldn't hear what Kylie said with the running water, but knew it wasn't pleasant, unlike Terry.
The man looped a satchel over his shoulder, ready to head out the door, "I was about to leave for a PTO meeting. Would you like me to stick around, officer?"
"No, thank you," Renee declined with a pressed smile. For that, Terry escaped the upcoming confrontation. Kylie came out with only a towel around her body, her pout stayed the same.
"You can't stay away, can you?" she spat.
"I have some questions."
"Of course you do," Kylie rolled her eyes, throwing the towel at Renee. The detective rolled her eyes as she turned around, sparing the vision of Kylie's nudity.
"What? You shy now, detective?" Kylie challenged, opening her closet to grab her track clothes from the hangers. Her underwear and sports bra folded on the top shelf above her clothes mixed with Terry's.
"Just trying to be decent like your friend."
"Terry's my man. He's supposed to be decent with me. If he doesn't, I'll be sure to whoop his ass, and he knows it."
"Oh really?" Renee furrowed her brows, watching Kylie pulling her underwear on before turning around. The detective could tell that Kylie went all the way with the procedures as a Christmas or birthday gift. "You don't seem to mind kissing Roman Sionis's ass for a bigger paycheck. Does Terry know about him?"
"Really?" Kylie scoffed, slipping a tank top over her head and the leggings through her legs. "Him again? You don't stop, do you? I told you, I have nothing to say."
"Okay," Montoya folded her arms across her chest. "Don't say anything, just open your ears and listen." Kylie didn't pay any mind as she faced a circular mirror to pull her hair up in a ponytail. It's obvious, she was planning to go for a run. Her Fitbit charged and ready to go.
"I looked into Marco's file," the detective announced. "You were right, he did have some dirty laundry that needed airing."
"What a surprise," Kylie grumbled. "Cops are slow, but not stupid. Should I award you with a cookie with sprinkles on top?"
"September 22nd, 2018."
Kylie ceased what she was doing. She didn't look at Renee through the mirror, but her silence showed that she was listening.
"Marco Ramirez allegedly made an acquaintance with Gary Newton and Xander Fredricks. They had a lot to drink, a lot of time to kill, but not Marco. He supposedly had a plan."
Kylie slowly reached for her makeup bag to apply some lip gloss and mascara.
"It seems that someone has been tipping the CPS about him, accusing him of beating up his son. George's little brother spoke up, turned to someone he can trust. Someone who let him in, understand him more than anybody - a role model. Juan is a good brother. He wanted to protect George. Unfortunately, the justice system is fucked up, isn't it, Miss Donavan?"
Kylie cleared her throat, subtly smacking her lips, "You don't know what you're talking about."
The corner of Renee's lips curled upright, a smug was formed. She shook her head while quietly laughing, "I think you do. I know you do. You made those calls. Marco planned your assault, let those boys do the dirty work. Deborah Tate was a casualty."
"She wasn't a casualty," Kylie whispered, refusing to look in the mirror.
"She was your friend. You covered for her, accepted her consequence."
Kylie turned, rage sparkling her eyes, "She was my consequence." Renee stared down at the blonde, waiting until Kylie caved.
"I took what they did to me like a man I used to be. Every push, every word - I took it because I refuse to let them break me. I wanted to show Marco Ramirez that I am not broken," she patted a fist against her chest aggressively.
"You backed out," Renee retorted. "You kept quiet."
"So what?" Kylie threw her arms out helplessly. "That was payback. Everyone knows that silence is golden. I should've known the outcome when I opened my mouth - my employment says as much. Just because I can take it doesn't mean that I want it. I was looking out for myself at that point. I feel sorry for Juan and his brother, but Juan shouldn't have played me like that. He shouldn't have lied to those people. He can't expect shit to be done without putting in the effort himself."
"What about Deborah? Did she take it?"
Kylie let out a laugh, only it wasn't for humor. Her cold eyes cracked. She was fighting the burn, but it was only a matter of time before her eyelashes start soaking.
"The woman didn't talk to me after that night. I didn't blame her. She was a sweet person: always shared her earnings with the poor, served soup in a soup kitchen, showed her pimp a good time without expecting a tip. She wanted to help people like me who didn't do shit to earn it. So naive," Kylie rolled her eyes at the exaggerated word, "but so sweet. She didn't deserve shit. She didn't deserve jail time for trying to make a living." Kylie shook her head, "That night changed her. The love in her eyes was gone... eventually, her will to give back."
"She got hooked on opioids. Her brother checked her in rehab."
"You don't have to tell me the story to prove that you've done your homework, detective. We both know how her story ends, and it doesn't involve her riding off in a fucking sunset with her Prince Charming." A single tear dripped down her cheek. Kylie averted her eyes and ducked her head towards the mirror. She refused to show weakness.
"Fair enough," Montoya spoke quietly. "I am very sorry for your loss. I'm sorry for what happened to you. Nobody deserves that."
"Spare me the sympathy card, detective. I learned my lesson. I have to live with it. This is my burden to bear. I can take it."
"Maybe you can, but Juan can't," Renee concluded.
"What are you talking about?" Kylie asked, looking at Renee through the mirror.
"Have you noticed the marks on his arms? His legs, Miss Donavan?" Kylie didn't respond, her eyes squeezed shut while her lips quivered. "I fear that there is another monster in that apartment, and it's not Marco - not this time. So I need to know-"
"Look!" Kylie slammed her mascara on the dresser in frustration. "I don't know what to tell you. Even if I wanted to help, what can I do? No one is going to listen to me. Juan isn't talking. You are no better than them. You play the good cop, but it's all an act! Marco allegedly attacked me and Deb?"
"Did you see him in the van? Did Juan tell you that it was Marco who was hurting George?"
"He just said that his brother is having it rough at home, and he doesn't know what to do about it. When I pressed for details, he told me that his dad isn't helping matters. The next thing I knew, Juan ran off and said that he needs to get home before all hell breaks loose. I don't need a psychology degree to know what's going on. I have a father, I know what it's like. So I did what I thought was right. Shame on me." Kylie closed her eyes as she was picturing herself back in the police station, "Does it matter if I saw him in the van? Marco confessed. I overheard the detectives talking about the vehicle is registered to Marco. I knew. I knew that he knew I knew, and it's only a matter of time before he kills me. Shame on me, right?"
"You were trying to protect Juan, you can still protect him."
Kylie scoffed, slapping her hands against her sides helplessly, "You don't get it! Even if I want to help you, no one is going to believe me. Juan isn't talking. I can't prove anything - you can't prove anything! You can't prove that Juan is being abused, and you can't prove that Roman killed that son of the bitch. Marco is good as dead at the warehouse for all I care!"
"Warehouse? What warehouse?" Renee pinched her brows and tilted her head at Kylie's words. By the look on the blonde's face, Kylie knew that her mouth had put her in a terrible position again. This wasn't good.
"Nothing," Kylie turned around to stuff her makeup back in her bag. "Nothing. Forget it."
"You said the warehouse," Renee forced Kylie to face her, gripping her arms only to have them swing out of her grasp. "Which one are you talking about, Kylie?"
"There is no warehouse! It's a mistake. I meant to say, lounge - The Iceberg Lounge. I mean the news said he was last seen at the Iceberg Lounge, right?"
"Was he?" Renee challenged. Kylie folded her arms in defiance, but her eyes averted to the ceiling. "Miss Donavan, if you have something to say, now is the time to do so. Did Roman finish him off there? Did he torture Ramirez? Tell me!"
Kylie chuckled, "I have nothing to say." She sauntered past Montoya, purposely colliding her shoulder in the process to fetch her FitBit on the nightstand. Renee noticed Kylie's tremoring hand as she picked it up. "If there is nothing else, detective, I need to go. I'm due for a jog-"
"I can't let you leave, Miss Donavan," Renee announced. She didn't want to do this. Kylie must talk before it's too late.
Kylie stopped as she faced Montoya's stern expression. The detective was bluffing, she had to be. "You're trippin'. I didn't kill Marco."
"Then tell me, who did," Renee stepped forward. Kylie was all laughs, but her shifting, glistening eyes told a different story. She was scared as she should be. "Kylie, I know you're afraid, and that's okay. It's okay to admit that you're scared of Roman, scared of Marco. I won't let these animals hurt you. I promise! Just tell me what happened. What did you see? What did you hear?"
Unfortunately, Kylie was taught to follow Gotham's golden rule about silence. She refused to die for an abuser. She wasn't going to talk. Her face was stone cold in defiance. Whatever happens to her, she must endure the consequences as always. She was a survivor. She can take it like a man.
"Then you leave me no choice." For that, Renee reached her hand back for the silver cuffs, commanding Kylie to put her hands behind her back and turn around.
Munroe watched, completely astonished when Renee walked out with Kylie. He asked what happened, but Renee snapped that she didn't want to talk about it. Munroe reluctantly started the car and drove back to the station in awkward silence.
A/N: I know most of you are annoyed that there is no Roman/Mia scene in this chapter. Sorry about that, but I promise there will be more scenes of those two in the next chapter. So Kylie got arrested and Allison Scott is free from the hospital. Can Renee convince Kylie to talk? Is the story about Marco plausible? Is Miss Scott right about her son hiding something? How is Roman's relationship with Mia going to develop? Stay tuned for more.
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