BUFF Page 8

  “Of course, sir.” He swallows loudly, tightening his tie. “Rebecca, why don’t you check on Toby."

  "Rebecca, is it?" Mr. Kulich asks her directly. She doesn't like the glint she sees in his eyes and a tendril of fear strokes her spine.

  "Uh, yes..."

  "Oh, don't look so worried, sweetheart. I'm here to make sure you and your family are all safe. And if there’s anything I can do for you—your father is very important to us, isn't that right Mr. Appleton?"

  "Yes," he replies, succinct.

  Whatever is going on, it isn’t good. She looks at the house phone next to her. It’s only a few inches away from her hands…

  “How's your family?” he asks her father again, but his eyes never stray away from Becky. He’s watching her every move. Closely.

  “Fine.” Her father’s answer is stiff along with the rest of his posture. She doesn't like the way Mr. Kulich is looking at her.

  “What wonderful big green eyes you have, Rebecca.” Mr. Kulich finally removes his line-of-sight away from her and locks it straight onto her father. “I see she doesn’t get them from you, Mr. Appleton. Very trusting eyes, huh?"

  “Yeah.” Her father quickly clears his throat.

  Mr. Kulich nods, acting fully enthralled. He sweeps his thumb over the edge of his chin. “Maybe one day she can work for me, don’t you think, Mr. Appleton? In one of my clubs, maybe."

  She notices her father's hand turns into a fist. “Rebecca has her own future set up."

  “Oh no, Rebecca, are you going away to school?" Mr. Kulich meets her eyes and there is no mistaking the pure calculation arranged behind it.

  “Yes. Stanford."

  His eyes roam over her body and seem to still on her eyes. “Stunning. Absolutely stunning. Beautiful girls like you should never be wasted.” Mr. Kulich shakes his head leaning back. Crossing his leg over the other he folds his hands over each other and turns back to look at her father. “Don't take that for granted. Many do."

  “Sir?” Her father attempts to mask his fear, but the wobble of his chin betrays him.

  Mr. Kulich shrugs, his posture unthreatening, almost friendly, but his ebony eyes scorch a warning, blasting away the neat veil of cordiality. “Like I said, you seem to have a wonderful family. Healthy, happy. You've made a great life for yourself here in Wentworth Creek. It’ll be a shame if it doesn’t stay that way."

  Becky can see the sweat building up on her mother’s brow from where she’s standing.

  “Well, as long as you’re happy with my work, then I'm happy, sir."

  “Pleased enough, Mr. Appleton.” His next words might as well have icicles hanging from them. “But things change. Sometimes without warning. If you are ever to do something that will upset me or my business I will have to rethink your position in my outfit."

  “Mr. Kulich… I'm not sure what you are referring to."

  Those words stir something dark in their guest and Mr. Kulich’s voice rises. “Rebecca is an attractive young woman,” he says, his stare never leaving her father’s direction. “She has a great big future in front of her… it’ll be a shame if something happened… Someone so young should never have to suffer in any way."

  What on earth…? He’s threatening us. Why?

  Becky thinks back to how bizarre her mother had acted on the phone the night before.

  ‘If someone comes round asking about your father…’ What the hell has Dad done now?

  Her father stands straight up. She can see anger and fear mixing to form a deadly combination of crazed panic in his eyes. Becky wishes with every fiber of her being that the man in black will leave soon. All of this tension is eating her up inside. And her mother looks like she is going to faint.

  “Spencer, sit down, please,” her mother pleads. But her words are never heard.

  Her father’s eyes narrow. “Would you like to take a look at the books?"

  “No.” Mr. Kulich rises, straightening the invisible creases in his dark suit. “I trust you."

  Their eyes lock. Her father shakes his head. “Is there anything else I can do for you?" He heads straight to their front door.

  “I'm leaving tomorrow, just wanted to check in. But things look good. Benny gets the numbers on time each month. As long as he's happy, I'm happy."

  “Good,” her father replies, opening the door.

  Mr. Kulich offers his hand and her dad receives it. “Mr. Kulich, if there’s anything I can do to be of service to you—"

  “Mark my words you'll be the first to know if I need anything from you,” Mr. Kulich says with a sinister grin. “We'll be in touch. My regards to your family, Mr. Appleton.”

  Becky isn’t sure if she imagines what she sees next. It happens so fast. But it is as if Mr. Kulich’s eyes dart up at the stairs for a second as though he expects someone to be there.

  Looking back at Becky, Mr. Kulich says, “It was wonderful to meet you Rebecca. We will meet again someday, I’m sure."

  She forces herself to smile back her response, but inside she’s begging for Fate to never allow them to meet again.

  Their uninvited guest finally steps outside and leaves their home. It feels like the Big Bad Wolf has just threatened to blow their house down.

  Her father shuts the door quickly, a loud sigh escaping his lips. He looks at Becky. “Rebecca, we need to discuss something important.”

  “You think?” she says, sarcastically.

  “Come sit with your mother and I.” He looks worn out.

  “What’s happened?” She braces her hand on the arm of the sofa.

  This doesn’t sound good.

  “Come sit. We need to talk.” Becky sits on the opposite side of her parents. His hands are shaking. “Don’t get upset, Pumpkin, but we've run into a bit of a problem.”

  “Dad, please, just say it.”

  “Okay… Well, unfortunately... it looks like we have to move. Right away."

  Becky waits, hoping he hasn’t finished. There has to be more. To just leave and without reason? Becky stares blankly, none of it making any sense.

  “Dad, what's going? What happened? I just—I don't understand any of this.” Her body is overheating from holding back the dam of adrenaline rushing forth. Now is not the time to break. She always holds it together so well. “Mom, why haven't you said anything?"

  Her mother brushes back the hair from her eyes. A few strands still stick to her forehead. “Your father's right. It's the only choice we have."

  “No,” Becky breathes out, “I'm not going anywhere until you explain this."

  “Business… it's not going well,” her father admits, standing up and walking over to sit by her. “I've wanted to get out for a while but the only way I can leave and not be a connected to Mr. Kulich's organization will be to leave the state. We can never come back… but our life will be fine—”

  Becky feels the room shrinking as she cuts in, “Whoa, Dad. I… slow down. I don't understand anything you’re saying right now. Why do you need to leave the business? Isn't this job what saved us from bankruptcy in the first place? I mean, when you lost your other job, Kulich is what you said saved you—that's what mom told me anyway. And I've never heard you once complain about your job. You said Mr. Kulich always treated everyone fairly, you make good money—"

  “It's not that simple, Rebecca,” he interrupts, his tone sharp. “There are things you don't know—won’t understand."

  “Try me."

  He levels her with a glare. “Be serious, Rebecca."

  “Fine, then you be. Leaving should not be an option. This is our home. We can't just pack up—"

  “We have to, Pumpkin… I'm sorry."

  The tears behind her eyes sting. “Sure… What did you promise? You promised me that you were never going to do this to us again."

  “I meant it but sometimes you have to break some promises to survive."

  “Survive?” she repeats, her voice screeching. He shushes her, placing his hand on her lap, but she pushes it asi
de. “What’re you saying? If we don't leave something's going to happen? What are you leaving out?"

  “This business is dangerous…”

  “You have never talked like this in the years you have worked—”

  “You’re a child, Pumpkin.” He rubs his hand at the back of his neck. “Your mother and I didn’t want to worry you and we still don't, but we don't have a choice anymore."

  Refusing to fall apart, almost sick with how many times she’s teetered on the brink in the past twenty-four hours, Becky clears her throat. “Are you saying we’re a target or something?"

  “No,” he quickly interjects, “far from it. It's just, sometimes the risks aren't worth it anymore. Before, when I started working for Mr. Kulich's organization, it was much smaller than it is now and there wasn’t much publicity concerning his affairs so everything was pretty much low key—just the way we accountants like it.” He smiles but she doesn’t return the gesture. “Now his business has tripled, there’s not as much assurance that his nefarious activities won't bleed onto the legitimate side of his work. I'm not willing to take that chance anymore. I'm tired, your mother doesn't want to deal with the headache of worry and Toby is still very young. We'd like some peace. Is that too much to ask?"

  Shaking her head, stunned, Becky waits, but his explanation proves to do just the opposite of soothing her fears. “I don't… I don't understand why we have to leave, Dad. I'm supposed to be going to Stanford in a few weeks time. Are you telling me I can't now?"

  He stands up, pacing the length of the room a few times before stopping by her again. She continues to peer blankly at the wall in front of her.

  “Rebecca.” Her father's voice is meant to placate but it only pushes the anger out faster. He places his hand near hers, but she recoils and meets his eyes with hers.

  “Tell me the truth. If we're just going to pick up our lives and leave I deserve to know why. I'm not leaving this room until you give me a reason."

  The wobble of her voice settles but she is fuming from the inside out. There’s no mistaking the angry flush of her face or the way her jaw clenches for some semblance of control over her emotions.

  “I don't like your tone, dear,” her mother reprimands, but her eyes never place themselves fully on Becky’s. “Your father is not trying to ruin your life."

  “Then please answer the question,” Becky begs. “Dad, please. Why?"

  “I can't. I told you it's the business. We all have to haul-out before the police are onto us. New identities, new homes, new everything.”

  The police?

  “So, what? We're going into some kind of witness protection program?!”

  “Something to that effect.” His answer is hollow.

  “You're in trouble. Aren't you?” Becky's thick voice cuts through. “Dad, you told us you were going straight now. Was that a lie?"

  There are tears in his eyes. “No, Pumpkin… it wasn’t a lie. But the law, they don't care, they’re investigating it all… If my name is connected in any way to Mr. Kulich—I'm dead."

  This isn’t happening. What about Stanford?

  “Has anyone approached you, Rebecca?"

  “Approached?” She wriggles under the gray stare of her father’s. It’s never been this hard to meet before.

  “Yes, any strange men calling here or following you at the store or when out running. Anything or anyone unusual?"

  Colt... But how can he have something to do with this?

  Her mind races to all possibilities. The shock of her father’s announcement clouds her thinking.

  “Answer me, Rebecca!"

  “No,” she murmurs, “no-one. I swear." It comes out before she can think clearly.

  “If anyone does I want you to let me know immediately. You understand me?"

  “Does it matter now if we're leaving? College is out the door, our whole lives have to change because of this… All our plans…” She rakes her hands through her loose curls, staring down at her bare feet. “I don't believe this."

  “I am your father. I make the decisions and this is what is best for us. I don't need you to think about why or how, just do as I say." Her father's eyes close. He presses his fingers into his forehead.

  Becky can’t look away from him, but her sympathy has run its course. She gets up in one swift angry blur. “I’ll never forgive you for this."

  “Rebecca," her father calls out. She stops by the staircase refusing to speak. She’s feeling so many things at once. She’s afraid if she starts talking she will never stop until everything inside her is taken out. “Hate me as much as you want right now, but you have one week to pack.”

  * * *

  “FINE.”

  “You sure?” Colt's voice punctures her black reverie. She’s been pacing the length of the attic since she woke up the next morning. She’s still in her nightie.

  “I said I’m fine,” she mumbles, distracted. “I need to paint."

  “So paint."

  “I can’t,” she says, lowering herself in the middle of the floor. “You're here."

  “So?"

  “So… I can't paint with you here… looking at me... The whole point is to... well… you know what? Forget it. It just helps and I can't be who I want to be when you're here always watching me."

  “I won’t." Her glare is weary, watery. “I mean, I'll try not to.” His eyes smile, but his lips remain set.

  She covers her face with her hands, gripping the loose curls that fall around her. “I'm sure that won’t be hard," she mutters.

  “What?"

  “Nothing.”

  “Something's wrong.” His eyes cut through hers. “What?"

  “I want you to be honest with me."

  Those words trigger something, reshaping his face into living stone again. His eyes swirl, speckled and hard like marbles. He stares out the window.

  You’re hiding something.

  She’s stomped on the last eggshell when it comes to their fragile relationship, but instead of being bothered by this, it just makes her all the more determined. His evasiveness always rises when questions are involved.

  Yes, you’re definitely hiding something… I’m sick to death of being lied to.

  “Why were you really here that night?"

  Silence.

  “Is there a reason you chose my house to hide in? What’s the name of this gang? Why did they shoot you?” More silence ensues. “Who shot you? Where? Why?”

  She stands up and stalks over to him. The less he speaks the more her aggravation grows and burns her up. All her nerves are winding down, her body pleads from exhaustion to drop and her skin itches for sunlight. She can’t remember the last time she went out and experienced warmth on her. The air-conditioning stretches her skin, freezes it in place.

  “Answer me. Now,” she whispers, fiercely. He doesn’t appear to have heard her. “I want you out of here unless you answer some of my questions."

  He angles forward, holding his side, then stands, slowly at first. He’s in front of her, his full height dwarfing her and her rage. His jaw ticks under a thin control and she knows one word from her can split it into two like tissue paper.

  “I'll leave.” His husky baritone shatters the quiet and his resolve kicks her off her rocker. He drags his body nearer to the door, his feet shuffling against the old wood. It’s an incredibly sick sound and it makes her stomach roll to picture him trying to make it two steps out the door.

  How could he have anything to do with her father? Why would Mr. Kulich send a man to her attic, shot and bleeding? No… That’s ridiculous. He just can’t have anything to do with what’s happening with her family.

  She’s taking her anger out on him, and that isn’t fair.

  Her eyes cloud with tears. “Please, just…” She swallows her nerves. “…Just tell me the truth. I don't want you... hurt."

  Colt stiffens. She listens to his heavy breaths as if he’s breathing right in her ear. He faces her, leaning to his side. Her head drops bu
t the tears fall. One by one.

  “I can’t."

  She slouches forward, her hair covers her, protects her, but it’s clear as day, ringing in her ears, enveloping her senses, breaking through the atmosphere.

  She is so unprepared for the things she feels when he’s around her.

  “Why?” she asks, almost breathless.

  “Don’t make me lie to you,” he whispers, as he edges closer. “Becky, whatever happens… know... just know I will never hurt you."

  She doesn’t notice how close he gets until she wipes her cheeks and braves herself for his glacial expression only to find him towering over her, his eyes soft like blue raindrops.

  Her sigh vibrates between them like a soft measure on a piano. He takes one sure step closer, the small distance between them evaporating from the thick space of his body.

  His eyes dance between her eyes and her mouth. “I promise."

  His thumb nudges her chin up, forcing her to take him in.

  “You promise?” She is lost in him. Her nose scrunches and her swollen lips wobble. He inches the pad of his thumb higher, watching her.

  “I won’t hurt you. Believe that,” he breathes out, against her forehead.

  “I don't.” She gulps, her body swaying on its own accord toward his. “I don't believe anything anymore."

  “Believe me."

  The warm palm of his hand burns her neck as it wraps around her and takes hold. She blinks, her mind scrambling as a dizzy heat starts in her stomach and oozes through her. “I don't… I can’t."

  His nose touches hers. At first she wonders if the touch is by accident, but a second time… she can’t deny the second time.

  The sharp tip bumps her rounded one then grazes the side as his shadow eclipses half her face. “Everyone's got to believe in someone."

  His words are like a whirlpool, carrying her down into the unpredictable, the unknown. Mesmerized she knows she is being sucked in. His eyes brighten, taking in her lips. Her cheeks burn, her pulse skitters.

  “Why? she whispers. Her eyes close as a rush of his breath strokes her skin. She can’t breathe right.

  “Why not?” he asks.

  “Why do you want me to believe? Why do you care?"