Brazen

“Will you put some of those down? It wouldn’t kill us to make a second trip.” I can’t help but be amused while Noah struggles to carry eight grocery bags too many inside the house.

Her frame leans forward as the heavy load weighs her down. Once we hit the tiles of the kitchen floor, she drops her haul, and frozen dinners spill out of the bags. Good thing she wasn’t carrying the eggs.

“Why make two trips when we could easily do it in one? It’s hot outside.” Noah scans the food selection near her feet.

“Easily? Right, yeah. You probably strained a muscle in your back, trying to lift your weight in the canned foods alone.” I drop my own bags on the counter and give her ass a pat.

Instead of returning an affectionate gesture, she crinkles her nose at me like a toddler. I wipe the sweat from my forehead and stand still, waiting for the air-conditioning inside to cool me down. She is right though. It is damn warm out there.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, alerting me that I have a new text.

Dan: Turn on TBQ6 News.

That’s all it says. We’ve had our fair share of drama and surprises lately, so I don’t ask questions. I hold my phone out for Noah, and her eyes fill with curiosity. Leaving the groceries on the floor and the counter, we move through the house and into the living room and turn on the television.

Scandal.

That’s the word all over the screen under Matt’s mug shot.

Money laundering.

Tax fraud.

Bribes.

Stephanie is even joining the bad publicity smear campaign and speaking out against him, telling a horrifying story of abuse. Until now, she stuck by his side, and I don’t have to ask to know that she turned on him the minute his money was gone. I have no doubt Matt put her through a lot, but I’d bet she’s making a big paycheck for interviews.

When a clip of a one-on-one sit-down with Harper Candace, a well-known Florida talk show host, teases the screen, Stephanie mentions Sunday, and I flinch. Stephanie was right there, at Matt’s side, making Sunday’s life hell, and now, she’s sitting on a white couch in a television studio, connecting her story with my friend’s. Then, the preview disappears, and things are thrown back to the news desk.

Minutes in, and I’m already disgusted.

“With the new allegations he’s facing, Matt Norman has possibly added on a minimum of twenty-five years in prison to his already pending murder charges.”

With that information, I turn the television off. The more years they give him, the better. He deserves to rot in a cell for ten lifetimes, and that punishment still wouldn’t be enough.

My phone chimes again, and I pull it from my pocket.

Dan: I’m sorry I couldn’t land the paper trail sooner, but once I did, I couldn’t sit on the information I had. It’s a small consolation, but at least his dirty laundry has been aired before the trial. People will know what kind of man he is.

None of this is Dan’s fault, but in the back of my mind, the news breaking does feel a little too late. All of this could have helped Sunday out from under his thumb before he took her from us. I can’t seem to breathe in anything but regret right now. Getting off my feet before I lose my balance, I sink down onto the couch.

“Is this what Sunday was so worried about you working on when we first met?” Noah sits next to me with her legs over my lap.

Mindlessly, my fingers skim over her bare legs. “Yeah, she was worried about what Matt would do if he found out I was having him investigated. Turns out, he didn’t need to know for him to lose it.”

I’m curious to know if Matt knew Sunday was leaving and how he found out. Unfortunately, he’s said very little since he was arrested, so we probably won’t ever know.

“He’s going to go away for a very long time.” She sounds so sure the justice system will finally work against him this time.

I’ve seen him con his way out of a lot, but I think she’s right. Matt won’t be able to escape incarceration. There is way too much evidence against him, and I’m sure, once the FBI starts digging, they will find more. I’ve been told they even found Sunday’s blood in his vehicle.

“Sunday is still gone. No matter what happens to him, it can’t bring her back.”

“No, it won’t, and I’m so sorry about that, baby.”

I know she’s sorry. I am, too.

“The groceries are going to spoil if we leave them out much longer.” I don’t know what else to say. It’s stupid, but my concern about the food scattered all over the kitchen is what came out. Putting away the groceries is much easier to rationalize than anything involving Matt Norman.

“I’ll take care of it.” Noah leans in and kisses me.

I close my eyes, keeping them shut long after her contact leaves me. I lean my head back and attempt to ease the throbbing ache piercing my skull by thinking about happier times.

Sunday and I learned to ride bikes together on the grass of my front lawn. We snuck out as young kids through our bedroom windows to meet up late at night and toilet-paper houses. As teenagers, we went on double dates together and skipped school to hang out in the local movie theater. We grew up and built a business together. Our lives were completely interconnected since I could remember.

I used to roll my eyes when she would say things like, “Best friends forever!” and doodle the acronym during her younger years.

Now, I’d give anything to hear her say it again.

I allow myself to ignore the text from my mom, only today, and sit and stew over Matt’s actions. I let my heart bleed out while I think about what Sunday went through in her last few minutes here on Earth. In my head, I throw one hell of a giant pity party, and then I decide that, when the sun goes down, I will let it go. I can’t allow Matt to ruin two lives, maybe even more, by my own self-sabotage. It’s time for me to find my own closure, like Noah did with Catherine.

Why?

Because I’m here and Sunday isn’t.

She’d kick me in the balls if she could see me now.

I have that girl in the kitchen, the one who would do anything to make things better for me, and if I didn’t live out my life to the fullest with Noah, Sunday would kill me.

I can make the choice not to let this drag me down, but I’ll always miss my friend.

Tomorrow, I’m going to live my life for me, for Noah, and for Sunday.