Chapter 20

Trainer

 

My heart sinks when the fucker, Allen, calls me a murderer.

ʼCause I am.

Killed Arnie dead. Made sure of it. Just wasn't ready to tell Krista yet.

Because of the way she's lookin at me now. Like she doesn't know me, confusion and hurt etched across her face.

But I can tell her, she knows me better than anyone. I oughta know—I let her in.

Second by second, I watch her face shut me out. Grief slashes at me, bloody fissures reopening old wounds.

Then Noose appears, and I know shit's gonna get ugly. Not just because Noose is here, but because that Allen fucker is a baiter. He wants to beat people. It's who he is. Knew that the first time I met him.

I wait until Noose dresses Allen down. Because that was gonna happen. Noose dishes out shit to the deserving.

And sure enough.

“Fuck you,” Allen says, crusty blood around his nostrils.

Noose's expression doesn't change, and that's when I know he's gonna blow.

What I don't expect is Krista charging him. I was so focused on the men, I forgot the woman.

“Stop!” she yells then jumps on Noose's back.

Reactively, he dislodges her as I'm already moving, and Krista tumbles over the rail.

Falling the six feet to the ground.

I'm already airborne, slapping the rail and flying over the top right after.

Too late. I bend my knees as I land like a cat.

Krista shrieks from the ground.

Fuck.

I sink in one motion, scooping her from the ground and lift. She's a small girl, so it's no problem.

Krista holds out her hand, her eyes finding mine, and tears seep out the corners of her eyes. “Trainer, it hurts.”

“I know.” I trust Noose to deal with fucker up above as I find out how my lady is hurt.

Doesn't take long. Broken bone bulges at her wrist, threatening to poke out through her skin.

That knot in my chest comes back like an old friend.

Our eyes lock. “Is—” She chokes back tears. “Is it bad?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“Hospital field trip?” Noose asks from the landing, having been watching Allen and listening.

“Yeah,” I repeat, gently cradling Krista.

“You'll need me to take her,” Allen states.

We all look at him. His cruel smile is all for me.

In that moment, his potential Arnie status isn't in question anymore. He is one. Fancy clothes and words don’t matter. Deep down, he's an Arnie.

“You have to remember, I know all about you, Neanderthal.”

Casually, Noose's hand flies out, swiping the back of Allen's head. He stumbles forward, catching himself on the railing.

“No fucks given about who ya are, what ya are, or any happy ho-ho shit like that. Don't disrespect a brother, fuck nuts.”

Allen turns, hating Noose with his eyes. Seen that expression enough in my life. “I don't need you. Krista must go to the hospital because you threw her off the balcony—classic move—imbecile.”

Noose stiff-fingers him in the chest. Allen moves into him, and I size the men up. The attorney has a steely core, I'll give him that. He acts smart, but anybody who goes toe-to-toe with Noose has a death wish.

“Your brother”—Allen cocks his head in my direction—“is on probation for a second derelict offense. If he takes an injured woman to the hospital, how will that go for him? Think it through, if you're able.”

A flicker of uncertainty washes over Noose's face and is instantly gone.

“That's right,” Allen says with soft, triumphant menace, just loud enough for me to catch.

Loud and clear.

“Fine.” Noose says, stepping out of range.

Allen smirks.

“But I go with. I'm not letting you alone with Trainer's girl, no matter what bullshit slides out of that hole you got for a mouth. It's all brown and stinks to me.”

Allen's face tells me he's up to something.

But Noose will see it.

Krista takes ahold of my ruined shirt already stiffening with blood. “Don't leave me alone with him.”

The urge to cry sweeps through me, like smelling rain before a storm.

I bite the inside of my cheek. Pain rushes in where agony was a moment before.

I gasp out an answer, filling the void caused by emotions I'm not used to having. “Noose will be with you.” Never had physical pain from words before.

Krista searches my face, and I see the defeat in hers.

Holding the stare is the bravest thing I've ever done. Keeping my eyes on a face I love, not sure if it loves me back.

“Because you murdered someone.”

There's more to it than that. But words aren't there in the front of my brain like everyone else's. So I use the simplest one. “Yeah.”

“Set me down, Trainer.”

I do, carefully—like she's made of glass. Krista yelps, cradling her arm as new tears stream down her face.

The men walk down the stairs. Allen first, I notice.

Noose’s eyes meet mine. “Gonna be okay, Trainer.”

“Doesn't feel like it,” I admit as Allen breezes past me like we didn’t just go hard.

Only fought a few guys who put the judo moves on me. Didn't expect it from this douche. Packaging doesn't match the man. Sneaky fuck.

Keeping my arm around Krista, I reluctantly hand her off to Noose.

Her skin is pale like chalk.

Noose takes one look at her. “Shock.” He knocks her off her feet with a well-placed arm behind the knees, catching her and lifting at the same time.

“Hey,” she protests weakly, “I can walk.”

“What's wrong with her?”

Noose looks at her wrist. “Spiral fracture. Lots of pain. Slipping into shock.”

Allen glares, spinning on his heel. He strides to a BMW.

My soul flares like a sun spot. I recognized the letters. I mean, I knew it was a BMW using what Krista said is memorized visual cues. But to read it?

In the middle of this mess, with my girlfriend's wrist busted—I can read.

I jog after Noose and Krista.

Grabbing her good hand, I whisper, just for her, “I read something just now.”

The corners of her lips pulse once before her eyes flutter closed.

Straightening, Allen and I lock glares over the roof of the car. “This isn't through.”

No it ain't. I back away, wanting to be with Krista so bad, it's a well of raw pain.

Glancing back at Allen, I realize I want him dead more.

Noose sees our silent exchange and jerks his head to the right. “Head to the club. Tell the Prez what's what.”

He bends, sliding Krista into the back seat of the BMW. She curls into a fetal position, and he carefully shuts the door.

Noose moves around the back of the car, eyes his ride sitting there next to mine, and sighs before slipping in next to Krista.

Noose being there or not, it's so hard to watch that prick back out of the slot and drive away with my lady.

It should be me taking her to the hospital.

Because an Arnie is in charge, and people get hurt with Arnies.

And I got a feeling Allen Fitzgerald is a really bad one.

 

*

Krista

 

Lifting my arm, I admire the ugly cast. They gave me a choice of color, and I chose charcoal gray. I'm pretty sure it's going to look filthy pretty quickly, so the dark color seemed the best option for the almost two months I'll have it on.

Sam says, “Sit still.”

Carefully, she prints her name after the phrase she put on my cast.

I read it, letting the thing drop onto my lap. “It's a good thing that a lot of my students can't read well.”

Proof that I need to watch where I'm going is printed neatly across the longest and flattest part of the cast. In light-colored, metallic ink.

I groan.

“Hurt?”

I shake my head. “Well, yes. But they gave me joy juice.” I lift my other arm. Clear tubing runs from the crook of my elbow to a bag of happy liquid hanging from a tall metal hook thing with wheels.

“Where's the prick?”

“Allen?” I whisper back.

Sam nods, her topknot of thick curly hair bobbing with the motion. “Of course him.” She caps her pen, slapping it on the side table that serves as both tray and nightstand.

“He's out in the hall.”

Sam's lips curl in satisfaction. “I like Trainer's work on his face.”

I look away. I can't face telling her. Just when I thought I'd found someone extraordinary…

“Okay, so tell me what happened. I just got the Reader's Digest version.”

I take a deep breath, and Sam helps me get water from a bendy straw before carefully setting it at my bedside table when I've had enough.

It takes me a half hour to do the total gut spill.

Sam slumps in the chair. “I couldn't make this shit up. It's like a reality show.”

Frowning, I shake my head. “It's my life, Sam. I mean, I knew about the thing with the guys—the possible court date—the very reason why Trainer needed to ʻimprove himself.ʼ I got all that. I knew he was rough around the edges. That's not unusual with my students, really.”

“But you don't judge people.” Sam flings a palm out.

Annoyed, I exhale loudly. “No, a big character flaw, I guess.” Allen comes to mind. I should have judged that one a lot more.

“No.” Sam takes my hand. “It’s your best trait.”

We sit quietly for a time.

“Now what?” Sam asks.

“Trainer being a murderer isn't probably something I can move past. I'll finish our schooling—there's still four weeks left. But beyond that, I can't do romance. Not with all that. I'll be like a heroine in a bad soap opera.”

Sam winces, clearly visualizing it.

“I'm sure you've already considered how weird it was that Allen knew about Trainer's past.”

“He must've looked into it,” I say, playing with the sky-blue silky trim of the hospital blanket.

“And that's not weird?”

Lifting my eyes to Sam's, I reply, “Yeah. But I think we've already established that Allen is…”

“Has a screw loose. I mean, he shows up at your house, wanting to talk again.” Sam raises her eyebrows. “Unless you were just glossing over details with me, and you actually didn't make a clean break.”

Lifting my good hand, I cross my heart. “I was crystal clear.”

Sam inclines her head, causing her curly topknot to flop forward. “Okay, so Allen comes by and wants to ramrod his agenda to get back together, and you're not into it.”

A small laugh slips out. “So not into it.”

“He gets rough.”

I'm silent.

Sam's eyes sharpen on my face. “Has he been rough before?”

I don't know what to say.

“Krista?” Her hushed use of my name tells me she understands I've not been completely transparent about Allen and me.

“The last time we were… together—he hurt me.”

Sam's face morphs to horror.

I try to clear this part up. “Ah, I mean it was consensual, the sex. But the rough stuff, I told him to stop.” I swipe a tear, not realizing until just that moment how much I hadn't wanted what he did that night.

“Why didn't you tell me he was a fucker in the sack?”

I laugh. “I think he's just a fucker. Period.”

“Duh,” Sam says softly, her eyes brimming with sympathy, which makes me have a mini pity party. “God, I didn't know.”

I lift my shoulder. “It's over. And after the ugly things he said about the kids I teach—and Trainer—I know how he really feels inside. He doesn't respect me, what I do, or what I’m trying to accomplish. Allen thinks he’s the smartest person in the room.”

“In the world,” Sam corrects, heaving a disgusted sigh.

I can only nod.

“But he knew something about Trainer.” Sam gives me a pensive look, chewing her lip. “I can find out the details of this.”

We exchange a heavy look.

“It doesn't really matter in the end. Whoever Trainer killed, he didn't think I was important enough to tell. He should have.”

Definitely a deal breaker. I wipe more tears. “No, I'd get rid of him because Trainer didn't think I could handle the hard truths.”

Sam huffs. “Not pretty lies.”

I nod. “It's something my parents always told me. Ugly truths is what we want.”

“Not pretty lies,” Sam repeats like a mantra.

“Yeah,” I agree softly.

“This is going to be hard,” Sam says.

“You have no idea.”

Sam silently takes my hand, and with her free one, she closes the space between her thumb and index until they're almost touching. “A little idea.”

We don't talk anymore. Sam gives me the silent comfort she's so great at.

She leaves when Noose enters. He scowls at Sam as they pass each other, and Sam sticks out her tongue when she's nearly to the door.

Noose snorts.

Then he turns to me, and I almost can't meet his gaze.

But I do.