Chapter 2

Rose is sick and Michaels career is on the line.

Chapter 2

“Oh god.” Was all she got out before she vomited all over Michael’s Aldo Oxford dress shoes.

“As you were saying? You’re not detoxing? You don’t have an alcohol problem?” Michael snidely remarked, snapping at his bodyguard to bring him a towel. God, he was just so happy to be proven right. Michael wiped off his shoes and stepped out of them onto the black tiled floor. He leads her along by the elbow. Her body was unbelievably shaky.

Rose’s knees gave and she would have bruised them on the floor if Michel hadn’t caught her.  “No. No I- I don’t I’m just sick!” I ate too much..” Lie. All she had were crackers and apple juice which currently resided in the fibers of their beautiful pink rose colored carpet.

“The bodyguard said you haven't eaten anything but a package of crackers and he might have seen a bottle of water in your hand.” He interrupted.

“Then I have the flu!” Rose was getting loud.

“Rose.” He scolded. In that lawyer voice, he liked to use when he was trying to prove a point. She felt like she was in a courtroom, sitting on the stand, being accused of murder. Except she was in the judge's arms. Her mouth tasted like vomit and god damn how long had they been walking? Their house, or condo whatever Michael called it, was the size of a baseball field. Maybe that was over exaggerated, but a walk from the kitchen to the living room was an entire standard commercial on the TV.

“I don’t have a problem!” Now she was yelling. “So what I puked, so what! What do you care! I’ve been vomiting for the last 2 days! Did you know? Did your bodyguard inform you?” She was tired, sick, so agitated she just wanted to die. Michael was silent. Still holding her against him.

He sighed heavily, his chest rose and fell, Rose felt the air fill and leave his lungs. It was almost soothing. She could feel the strength in the back of his shoulder, the movement of his muscles as he walked, it was rather impressive. Rose was never a light woman, petite yes, but always sturdy. She was so busy thinking about his strength that it took her a second to realize they had reached the bathroom.

Michael sat her down on the toilet and turned the tub on, didn't even bother to check to see if it would be warmed to the right temperature. He turned to Rose, lifted her arms and began to strip her down as if she were a helpless child. After she was naked he did the same to himself, tossing his several hundred dollar suits to the grown like it was a worn-out T-shirt from Goodwill.

She took a minute to look him up and down. Saying he was handsome was a lie. This man was godly. So beautiful even Zeus would try to impregnate him only to realize he wasn't worthy of this perfectly sculpted a*s.

When the bath was full Michael climbed into the overly large bathtub that completely filled the corner of their bathroom. She followed suit sitting on the other side of the tub knees tucked to her chest. She was nervous, unsure how to feel about this random act of kindness. After last week and his confession that he didn't love her per se, just didn't want someone else to love her. Rose had thought long and hard about what he said, whether she wanted to stay or leave him. She came to the conclusion she needed him. The fear of being alone, or on her own overwhelmed the anxiety of his bipolar behavior.

“Come here, Rose.” he gestured with his hand and patted his thy. Obediently, like a dog, she went to him. With her back facing him she felt completely vulnerable. She flinched when he pressed the bar of Dove’s soap to her back. His hands were gentle as he massaged the suds into her skin. She rested her arms on his bent knees and leaned forward so he could get her lower back.

She felt like a princess at that moment. She felt like the only two people who existed in the entire world were her and Michael.

His hands moved around her side then her stomach, he pulled her closer to him so that she was leaning against his chest. Exposing her breast he took full advantage of the opportunity. Kissing her neck, licking her skin; His hands cradled each carefully. His thumbs paying extra attention to her n*****s. She couldn't suppress the moan.

“I do love you, Rose. I do care for you. Why else would I still have you?” Michael mumbles into her ear while his fingers explored lower areas of her body. “I confused you, I see. You are mine, My Darling, and I dearly love you.” He licked her ear and she came without notice his fingers never stopping through it all.

“Michael…” she was panting. He had her under his control and she couldn't decide if she was a prisoner against her will or not. One moment she wanted to run, the next he spoke with words that dripped with sugary, chocolate sauce she couldn't help gobbling up.

Michael finished scrubbing her down and even washed her hair with her favorite strawberry scented shampoo and conditioner. The whole event was so sudden she felt dizzy. She hated how he could just turn her into putty. He played her like a Maestro would play his Chelo.

“I always liked how this soap smelled on you,” Michael kind of chuckled to himself, “Reminds me so much of River.”

“Who?” Rose got out, just before Michael stiffened up and slammed shut all his mental doors. She could feel the temperature in the room drop. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and Michael along with them. The suds splashed everywhere and her husband was gone before the water could even hit the floor.

She didn't move for a while, she was unsure; did she do something wrong? Should she follow, or would that make everything worse? Rose bit at her thumbnail as she hugged her knees. What should she do?

****

Michael laid in his sleeping bag, the night air brushing his face. It would have been a pleasant breeze if it hadn't smelled of trash and rodent s**t. He heard his dad yelling at the TV in the living room. Michael couldn't stand this place any longer. Once he turned eighteen he would be out of here faster than the speed of light. He would take River with him too. Give her the chance at a better life, one where she wouldn't have to wonder whether or not she would eat that day. Where she could shower every night and smell like strawberries, just as she likes. He just had to wait another six years.

The door creaked open, the hinges screaming into the night. Michael flinched at the sound, their father didn't like them making noise. “Michael..”

He heard River whisper. Michael sat up, “River what are you doing?” Dad didn’t approve of them walking around past nine, in fact, he broke Michaels nose for it one time.

She sniffled, “I'm scared, I don’t like sleeping alone.” Ever since River turned six their Dad refused to let them sleep in the same room, now River had to sleep out in the living room while Michael and their Dad slept in the only bedroom. But he never made it to the bedroom, he would usually pass out in his chair in front of the TV.

Michael sighed and unzipped his sleeping bag lifting the flap for her to crawl in, “I know, come’on”

River quickly ran to the sleeping bag, her small frame not even making a sound. When she got comfortable Michael could barely feel here there. She was so frail.

“I had dreams again.” She whispered, tucking her self as close as she could to Michael.

He wrapped his arms around his little sister, “It's going to be okay. I'm going to work hard and get us out of here someday.”

River rolled putting her tear filled face in his chest. “Promise?”

Michael didn't want to admit the trickle down his cheeks were tears of his own, “Double promise.”

****

Michael could still smell the sweet strawberry scented soap coming from their bathroom. He could hear the loud gurgling of the draining tub, Rose getting out and slamming the towel cabinet closed. He watched in his head as she exited the bathroom, on wobbly legs still weak from lack of nutrition, and headed for his study. She wouldn’t stop for pajamas, Rose would feel no need for them. She had no shame, bodyguard here or not this was her home and she would parade naked if she wanted. He knew that was how she felt because she had left him a voicemail on his cell saying exactly that when he first stationed the bodyguard.

Michael didn't approve but he picked and chose his battles carefully. He knew Rose would never actually show her naked body to him.  

The knock sounded at just the moment he thought, “Michael? Can I come in?” He stood from his chair and answered the door.

There she was, petite frame wrapped in a towel that was meant for someone twice her size. She had a purple bathrobe draped over her shoulders. She wasn't looking him in the eye. As much as she hated confrontation she was too strong-minded to keep her thoughts to herself. He knew she wanted to ask about what happened and he knew she knew he didn't want to speak of it.

“Rose, it’s winter, you should dry your hair and get dressed.” He dismissed. He wasn't surprised when she took two tentative steps into the room. He turned to his desk reaching for the meaningless papers that rested there, “Whatever you need I am sure it can wait until tomorrow. I’m busy.” Michael kept his voice even, he didn’t want his frustration to show. More than anything he really didn't want her to cry.

Rose sniffled, Michaels whole body stiffened in response. “Who knows if you’ll be here tomorrow, or the next day or the next! You are never home Michael!” Her voice cracked on his name. He knew if he turned her eyes would be red, the gold flecks in her iris would blaze so frighteningly bright he would have to look away. When Rose cried she became twice as beautiful as she already was. However, she was right, he didn't plan on being home tomorrow for a discussion. He planned to stay away until the whole thing blew over and Rose forgot about his slip-up, which wouldn't take long since Rose never could remember anything well.  

“Won’t you please just confide in me, just once!” She cried. “Michael, please?” She pleaded again after too many moments of silence.

Micael turned to face her but refused to meet her eye, instead, he stared at the furrow in her brow. “Confide in you?” Michael laughed. He could feel that cold space in his chest, where he harbored all of his feelings for his past, spreading through his body. The same part that saw Rose as nothing more than his possession, a charm he kept close so no one else could have it. It spread until there was nothing left to feel, this was how he had managed to survive and this is how he would continue to do so. “Yes, why don’t I confide in the homesick alcoholic who knows nothing but what she can see past her pretty little noes?”   

“Michael..” The hurt in her voice stabbed at his icy armor, the pain came at a distance, far enough away he could easily bat the annoyance to the side. He could look at her properly now without it affecting him. Oh yes, she was crying hard now. Sobbing into her hands. That distant pang came again, deeper it seemed then the last.

He walked to her gripping her chin in his hand. “I’ll be on my way to my office now, Goodnight, Sweet Rose.” He kissed her lips, salty from all the tears, and stormed out.

“I'm leaving, Thomas. Watch her.”

“Yes, sir.” His bodyguard bowed his head as he left.

He stalked into his office at nearly midnight. Michael quickly discarded his jacket hanging it on the coat rack next to the door. Locked said door and kicked off his shoes then threw himself on the leather couch he’d purchased for the nights he had to stay over.

He sank into the cushion, groaning the whole way down. His cold, unfeeling armor melted and he replayed the last hour's events over and over in his head. Dreading the next moment he would see Rose. He knew better than to lose his temper and say what he knew would hurt the most. A better man would have sat his wife down fed her a piece of his past, a little crumb she could nibble on until she was satisfied or until he was ready to reveal the rest.

Although there would never be a time he was ready to reveal that horror. To a woman who was raised in the country under the sun where her biggest trouble was what the humidity would do to her hair, his story would be unfathomable. One of the things, Michael loved about Rose was her purity, her heart that seemed like it could never stop growing.  The fact that she had been suffering so much, to the point she resorted to addiction, and he hadn't noticed still unnerved him. He had spent the last two years neglecting his wife and instead of trying to reconcile he continued to make the same mistakes.

He hadn't realized he ’d drifted into sleep until his body spasmed randomly flinging him from the couch to the floor.

“Son of a B***h..” He muttered as he pushed himself to his feet. By the looks of it from his window, he hadn't been out long. Night still hung in the air, the few stars he could see through the cities smog still slightly gleaming. He noticed a blinking from the telephone on his desk alerting him to a voicemail he most likely didn't want to hear.  His option came down to the voice mail or more life contemplation, of which he was growing weary.

He sat in his office chair and remorsefully pressed the blinking light then another for the speakerphone.

“Michael!” a familiar voice yelled unnecessarily into the phone, “It’s me, Riley Bruler, hopefully, you remember.” Oh yes, he did. Law school. Riley was the last man he wanted to hear from and this phone call would mean nothing but trouble. “I need a favor, and well, you owe me!” He laughed after that. Once again, with more volume then he needed. “Give me a call as soon as you get this, be it two in the morning or otherwise. This is important.” Uncannily, the clock that hung above his door from reading two-thirty in the morning. Riley had always been predictive like that.

Michael flicked the redial and picked the phone up to hold to his ear.

The phone hadn’t even rung, “Finally! I didn’t think you were gonna call.”

“Riley. How can I help you?”  He was tired and bitter. Small talk was the last thing he wanted.

Riley laughed, deep, as if he was bent over holding his belly, “Ah man Michael, you’ve always been so business like! I heard you got married? Must be a real beauty to get you to settle down.”

Michaels body tensed. “She’s lovely, yes. What do you want, I don’t have all day.”

“Whoa, whoa, there hot shot!” Michael heard the smack as Riley slapped his hand on his knee. “I’m not the one who needed their dirt buried before it was gobbled up by the big fish at his internship.”

The urge to slam his phone down onto the receiver was severe, instead, Michael clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. He had to keep his temper in check, with what Riley knew, his career could be on the line.

****

The back streets of New York city were rough, even deadly, but Michael had no choice. His dad was gone again, leaving River and Michael to fend for themselves. It wasn't easy being Seventeen and raising an eleven-year-old that refused to speak. River hasn't spoken a word to him since the night their father knocked him out cold a year ago. He had no recollection of what happened that night and River had never been willing to fill him in.

He was currently doing his best just to get them through school but the bills were piling up and their teachers were beginning to ask questions. You could only lie so many times for parent-teacher conference. Michael just had to hold out until he was eighteen, then he could be Rivers Guardian. For now, his part-time job at Betty’s Grills as a busser and his own drug dealing side job were holding them over.

“How much for three grams of Pearl?” Mirckle, Michaels regular, asked. They were hunkered down behind a garbage bin in the back alley of Betty’s Grills. Mirkle reaked, he could smell his stench over that of the garbage. His matted hair was pulled back in a man-bun, his face covered in sores from years of drug use.

“Four Fifty man. It’s not laced. Guaranteed. I’m good for my word, you know that.” Michael held out his and in his palm sat three little bags of white powder. It was the weakest and cheapest out there, but to someone as far gone as Mirkle, it didn’t make a difference. He had another two weeks before he found himself dead from an overdose. Coke wasn't the only thing that Mirkle played with.

The exchange was quick, a thirty seconds tops and Mirkle was gone.

Michael picked up the bag of garbage he’d brought out with him as a cover-up and tossed it into the open bin before slamming the lid closed. The crash of plastic on metal echoed through the alley, it made Michael's heart skip every time.

Just before he walked into the door Michael's lame flip phone began to ring. It was his partner in crime, Chester. “What’s up,” Michael answered, pressing the chilled phone to his ear.

“How’d it go?” His voice was patchy, bad reception.

Michael shrugged before he replied, “Just as you said, didn't even bother to sample it. I think we should cut him loose. He’s nearly gone. We need to get back to the noobies.”

A grunt of agreement was all he got back before the line went dead. Chester was a man of few words, it was one reason why Michael did the selling.

A brisk wind whipped through the alley, slapping Michael right in the face. He could feel his skin dry out and crack, god he hated winter. He hoped the snow held off for a while longer, just long enough for him to stock up on food and blankets for his little sister. Their house didn't exactly have heat, they could barely afford the energy that gave them hot water.

Michael went back to work washing dishes and cleaning tables for the restaurant. The shift moved by quickly, Bettys was very popular and never lacked in guests. He was home by ten thirty.

“River! I’m back.” Michael shouted as he opened the door with his shoulder, his hands full of bags of food that expired at the restaurant.  

Footsteps answered him, light and quick. River was there instantly, her small hands grabbing at the two bags at his right. The moment Micael shut the door and set down the other bag River engulfed him. It was like holding air, she almost just wasn't there.

“Was school okay?”

She nodded

“Did anything happen?”

She shook her head no. Her thin light blonde hair shimmered in the kitchen light.

“I'm glad.” He smiled down at his sister and kissed the crown of her head. “Let's eat something and work on that math homework, yea?”

Her innocent smile stabbed at his heart. She was way too tiny for her age and if he were some stranger passing her by on the street he would assume she was eight, not eleven.

Michael made a quick vegetable dish for River and himself to eat and then headed for the tiny barren living room. They owned a short coffee table that had a stack of books as a leg and two sleeping bags. They had to throw out their couch because it was infested with mice. Michael wasn't concerned, soon he would have enough saved up to by them a blow-up mattress. They wouldn't be sleeping on the floor for much longer.

Just as River pulled out her green folder filled with the day's homework, a knock sounded on the door. Michael stilled, it was late and whoever it was couldn't have good intentions. He gripped his sister's hand and calmly asked her to go hide in the small bedroom behind them.

Michael crouch-walked to the door, gripping a baseball bat he kept by the fridge on his way.

The knock sounded again, louder this time. “Police! Open up!”

Michael went into a straight panic but tried to look calm as he answered the door, a mask of confusion plastered on his face.

He opened the door to find two massive police officers outside, their car still flashing red and blue lights. “Where's your Dad?” They asked. Their faces were shadowed by the lights flashing behind them, they were like huge moving statues. The tensions in his shoulders loosened a little, he was worried it was Mirkle.

Michael tried to smile, “I’m sorry sir. He hasn't been home for a few days now. I think he mentioned he would be back by the end of the week.” Michael lied.

One of the officers, the smaller of the two, peered inside the house. “Is it just you here?” He asked.

“Yes,” Michael lied again. If they knew about River they would try to take her away. Lying was an art he had mastered a long time ago. He felt no guilt, they slid off his tongue like sweet, venomous honey.

The cop still seemed suspicious. Unsure on whether to believe him, “We were told your father had two kids. A son and a daughter. No other relatives.”

Michael didn’t miss a beat, “My sister stays at a friend of the family. They take her too and from school. Unfortunately, they have two kids of their own and can’t handle another. Unlike my sister I’m older, almost eighteen and more than capable of caring for myself.” Michael scratched at his head and offered up an innocent boyish-grin.

“I can see that.” Said the officer pointedly staring at the baseball bat still in Michael's hand. He quickly dropped it and put his hands up, empty.

“Sorry. Bad habit. This isn't a terrible area but not the safest, ya know?” Sweat was trickling down Michael's back. They were not budging and he was terrified they would want to search the house.

“Son. There's a warrant out for your father's arrest. I’m not sure what he told you but he’s not coming back. We're gonna have to take you, and your sister that’s hiding in the back room, into custody until further notice.”

Michael didn't even let him finish, “River! Code Blue!” He shouted before dashing off to where she was hidden.

“Hold it!” The police hollered after him. But he didn't stop, and wouldn't. They would be sent to an orphanage, most likely separated. Michael wouldn't let that happen. He would always protect River. Even if it meant his own ruin.

****

The clock that sat over the phony fireplace read four thirty in the morning. Rose couldn’t sleep after Michael left, their bed felt to empty.

“How long are you here for, Thomas?” She glared at the bodyguard that stood watch by their front door. He really wasn't a bad guy and Rose knew it wasn't his fault. He wore all black and had is short hair slicked back from his face. Most people would just look like some disgusting grease pig but this man made grease look stunning. He may be attractive but Michael had him beat for miles.

The living boulder shrugged his massive shoulders, “Until you are fully detoxed from my understanding.”  His face was like stone, the only thing that moved was his lips. On the bright side, he didn't seem to be judging her, on the downside he didn't seem to not be judging her. He’d been here for three days now, so she’d been going through withdrawals for a total of five.

She stood in the middle of the living room squishing her toes into their fluffy carpet. “Well good for you. I’m fully ‘toxed out.” She looked back at the clock, the time hadn’t changed. Would Michael come back in the morning? How long would he be gone this time?

She heard the sigh of her bodyguard and turned to find him rubbing at this temples, “You are as pale as the rug you are standing on and still can't go twenty-four hours without throwing up crackers and water. Forgive me for being forward but you are still ‘toxed’.” He air-quoted the last word with his fingers. Not only did his break in character surprise her but it pissed her off that he broke it to mock her.

Rose stomped her way to the kitchen, “Yea? So all I have to do is eat some crackers and you’ll leave?” She had to dig through the cabinets one by one because she couldn’t remember where she’d put the crackers.

“Here Ma’am.” She peered over her shoulder, Thomas was gesturing at a bag of open crackers sitting on the islands marble countertop. She’d walked right past them. Rose glared some more at him, his face was screaming ‘I told you so’.

“Whatever,” She mumbled as she snatch the crackers of the counter and popped two of the saltines in her mouth. The moment the salty dried bread touched her tongue she regretted everything. Her stomach lurched and she rushed to the trash can, dry heaving. Two hands scooped her hair from her face. She wanted to cry. She hated her life but, mostly herself.

The heaving took to much out of her, she could feel herself get picked up in a princess hold for the second time that night. Felt her body get rocked as her bodyguard carried her to the living room couch and tucked her in with the blanket that hung on the back. She didn't even have the energy to open her eyes much less apologize for her terrible child-like behavior. Before Rose drifted off to sleep she thought to herself, “Thomas could stick around, he wasn't so bad after all.”

****

Chills cascaded down Michael's spine. He shook them off, “So you want me to call up my good friend Rodger Malane and ask him to call off a hit that he placed on your head?” He rubbed at his neck that was beginning to get sore. Rodger was a good friend of his, helped him a lot when he was just getting started. Michael worked mainly as his divorce lawyer but did a variety of jobs for the group; Michael was what many called a jack of all trades. Whether it be divorce or bankruptcy Michael could do it all.  

Riley's smug grin flashed in his mind as he said, “ Easy peasy lemon squeezy, am I right?” Michael would bet he was still as mousey looking as he was back in law school. His hair spiked up, the sides a smooth fade, brown beady eyes surrounded by heavy lashes. He wasn’t the most attractive man.

Michael looked at the clock, somehow they had been talking for over an hour about what happened. Apparently, Riley had one of Malane’s men as a client and lost the case. Malane is trying to claim that he was paid off by the other party to lose on purpose. Michael wouldn't put it past his old friend. “No Riley,” Michael stressed his name, “It is not easy, Malane is one of the biggest heads in the black market. He practically runs the undergrounds and I am not only a trusted friend but his main lawyer.” His only concern was the fact Michael had not heard anything about the case before now.

What had Malane been thinking, letting his men hire a lawyer that Michael had not pre-approved?

Silence stretched for a solid minute before he got a response, “What’s your wife's name again, Rose is it? What a pretty name. I heard she was having trouble with her consumption?”

The receiver in Michaels grip cracked, “You f*****g-”

“I would hate for something bad to happen to her” He taunted.

Michael stood from his chair and leaned on his desk, “This is not how you ask for favors, Riley, this is how you make enemies and I am not an enemy you want to have.”

Riley snickered, “Yea, I could say the same for you, Michael. Talk to Malane or find your retirement is coming early.” The line went dead.

The clock now read four thirty in the morning. He needed to get home to check on his wife, even with Thomas there, he was concerned for her safety.