Preppy: The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater, Part Three
Page 36
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“Don’t thank me. She needed a place and I didn’t. Consider it like a sublet type of thing,” Preppy said with a smile. “I didn’t mean to make you sad.”
I shook my head. “It’s like a happy kind of sad, if that makes any sense.”
“It does,” Preppy said. There was no doubt he understood what I meant, because somehow he always did.
I sniffled. “I do love you, Samuel Clearwater.” I wrapped my arms around his neck.
“I love you, Andrea Clearwater,” he replied, covering my lips with his. When he pulled back, he threaded his fingers through mine, pulling me past the rows of headstones and through the gate that led to the road. Preppy wasn’t the only one with the surprises. I couldn’t wait to give him mine, but it would have to wait. We had a reception to attend.
We walked out of the front gate of the cemetery officially leaving death behind.
I placed my hand over my belly.
With only new life ahead.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Dre Our reception was a casual outdoor party at King and Ray’s house. When we arrived Preppy went to go talk to his friends while I darted upstairs to change out of my gown and heels into a white sundress and sandals so I’d be more comfortable walking around in the yard. I’d just finished dressing when the door opened and Kevin appeared. His tie loose around his neck. His jacket long gone. His sleeves rolled up to his elbows. “Hey,” I said. “I was just coming down.”
“I just wanted to say thanks,” Kevin said. His hands were in his pockets and his eyes downcast on the floor. “You didn’t know me, but you gave me a home. You gave me...a family. You didn’t have to, but you did and I don’t understand why. I don’t think I would have done the same. You trusted me. Gave me the benefit of the doubt. No one’s ever really done that for me before.”
I put my hand on Kevin’s arm and felt a little guilty for ever thinking he might not have the best of intentions toward me or Preppy. “Having a brother makes Preppy happy. Family makes him happy. I’d never stand in the way of that,” I admitted. “Just do me one favor, it’s kind of a big one.”
“Anything,” Kevin said eagerly.
“Don’t let him down. He’s had enough of that.”
Kevin covered my hand with his, determination in his eyes. “I’d never let him down. EVER. You’ll see.”
“Good, now go downstairs. I’m just going to take the pins out of my hair, they’re digging into my scalp,” I said, pulling one free from the curls at the nape of my neck.
Kevin left and I made quick work of the pins. A shadow crossed the doorway. “Did you forget something, Kevin?” I asked, pulling the last pin out and running my fingers through my hair to ease my aching scalp. I spun around, caught completely off guard when I found myself staring down the barrel of a gun.
Preppy
I couldn’t find Dre. Thinking she might need help with a zipper or something I ascended the stairs two at a time but when I threw open the door of Max’s room I didn’t find her there. What I did find was her makeup case scattered around the floor, the dresser turned over on its side, and blood splattered across her white wedding gown which was crumpled in the center of the room.
“Dude, what the fuck is taking you guys so long? You got all night to fuck. I’ve got a toast all prepared and I’m gonna bring up some shit you haven’t even thought of since we were little punks running the streets...” Bear’s voice trailed off as he surveyed the room. “Fuck, I’ll go get King.” He took off down the stairs.
I ran behind him to search the place for Dre, but in my gut I knew she was already gone.
An eerie sense of controlled calm washed over me. There was no time to be angry. No time to be worried.
There was only time for revenge.
The rest I’d worry about when my wife was home safe, and the blood of whoever took her was dripping down my hands.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Dre We all have pasts.
Some good. Some bad.
For the longest time, my problem had been trying to keep the past behind me where it belonged. But when your past was pocked with scars, much like my arms were, it was hard to forget what I’d been through.
What I’d done.
But that’s the funny thing about pasts. No matter how far you think you are ahead, it’s always there, nipping at your heels, clawing its way forward until it is in your face, baring its teeth and you’re unable to ignore it.
As cheesy as it may sound, the thing that finally chased the past back where it belonged, was love.
The notion of romantic love was something I’d always thought belonging to prior and much older generations of people. My parents had it. So did my grandparents. But I believed it was something that had faded with time, each generation less and less capable of the kind of love found in romance novels.
Until Preppy.
Because of him I knew love wasn’t a myth because suddenly my heart felt so full it was going to break. Love wasn’t just a notion. Our love was practically tangible. I felt it moving around between us. A zing. A connection tethering us together even when I thought he was dead.
Preppy’s love wasn’t ‘romantic’. It was beautifully painful. It was the storming-the-castle, take-no-prisoners kind of love and I never wanted to escape from it.
From him.
I didn’t think I had any room left inside my heart but when Bo came along he taught me about an entirely different kind of love. One I thought I was never going to be able to experience.
The kind of love between mother and child.
Just when I thought we were beginning, it was all being taken away.
I was being taken away.
Again.
I’d been blindfolded. A sizzling pain continuously shot from the base of my spine, shocking me every thirty seconds or so. It caused my back muscles to spasm and go ramrod straight as if I’d been poked with a branding iron.
There would be no popping of the emergency latch this time. No escaping. I couldn’t feel my legs or arms. Couldn’t move.
Couldn’t scream.
Paralyzed in both fear and body.
Suddenly, I was ripped from the familiar trunk of the car I’d been shoved into by someone reeking of overly musky cologne. My adrenaline spiked and my heart started to beat a thousand miles a minute, sending alarms ringing throughout my body.
I shook my head. “It’s like a happy kind of sad, if that makes any sense.”
“It does,” Preppy said. There was no doubt he understood what I meant, because somehow he always did.
I sniffled. “I do love you, Samuel Clearwater.” I wrapped my arms around his neck.
“I love you, Andrea Clearwater,” he replied, covering my lips with his. When he pulled back, he threaded his fingers through mine, pulling me past the rows of headstones and through the gate that led to the road. Preppy wasn’t the only one with the surprises. I couldn’t wait to give him mine, but it would have to wait. We had a reception to attend.
We walked out of the front gate of the cemetery officially leaving death behind.
I placed my hand over my belly.
With only new life ahead.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Dre Our reception was a casual outdoor party at King and Ray’s house. When we arrived Preppy went to go talk to his friends while I darted upstairs to change out of my gown and heels into a white sundress and sandals so I’d be more comfortable walking around in the yard. I’d just finished dressing when the door opened and Kevin appeared. His tie loose around his neck. His jacket long gone. His sleeves rolled up to his elbows. “Hey,” I said. “I was just coming down.”
“I just wanted to say thanks,” Kevin said. His hands were in his pockets and his eyes downcast on the floor. “You didn’t know me, but you gave me a home. You gave me...a family. You didn’t have to, but you did and I don’t understand why. I don’t think I would have done the same. You trusted me. Gave me the benefit of the doubt. No one’s ever really done that for me before.”
I put my hand on Kevin’s arm and felt a little guilty for ever thinking he might not have the best of intentions toward me or Preppy. “Having a brother makes Preppy happy. Family makes him happy. I’d never stand in the way of that,” I admitted. “Just do me one favor, it’s kind of a big one.”
“Anything,” Kevin said eagerly.
“Don’t let him down. He’s had enough of that.”
Kevin covered my hand with his, determination in his eyes. “I’d never let him down. EVER. You’ll see.”
“Good, now go downstairs. I’m just going to take the pins out of my hair, they’re digging into my scalp,” I said, pulling one free from the curls at the nape of my neck.
Kevin left and I made quick work of the pins. A shadow crossed the doorway. “Did you forget something, Kevin?” I asked, pulling the last pin out and running my fingers through my hair to ease my aching scalp. I spun around, caught completely off guard when I found myself staring down the barrel of a gun.
Preppy
I couldn’t find Dre. Thinking she might need help with a zipper or something I ascended the stairs two at a time but when I threw open the door of Max’s room I didn’t find her there. What I did find was her makeup case scattered around the floor, the dresser turned over on its side, and blood splattered across her white wedding gown which was crumpled in the center of the room.
“Dude, what the fuck is taking you guys so long? You got all night to fuck. I’ve got a toast all prepared and I’m gonna bring up some shit you haven’t even thought of since we were little punks running the streets...” Bear’s voice trailed off as he surveyed the room. “Fuck, I’ll go get King.” He took off down the stairs.
I ran behind him to search the place for Dre, but in my gut I knew she was already gone.
An eerie sense of controlled calm washed over me. There was no time to be angry. No time to be worried.
There was only time for revenge.
The rest I’d worry about when my wife was home safe, and the blood of whoever took her was dripping down my hands.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Dre We all have pasts.
Some good. Some bad.
For the longest time, my problem had been trying to keep the past behind me where it belonged. But when your past was pocked with scars, much like my arms were, it was hard to forget what I’d been through.
What I’d done.
But that’s the funny thing about pasts. No matter how far you think you are ahead, it’s always there, nipping at your heels, clawing its way forward until it is in your face, baring its teeth and you’re unable to ignore it.
As cheesy as it may sound, the thing that finally chased the past back where it belonged, was love.
The notion of romantic love was something I’d always thought belonging to prior and much older generations of people. My parents had it. So did my grandparents. But I believed it was something that had faded with time, each generation less and less capable of the kind of love found in romance novels.
Until Preppy.
Because of him I knew love wasn’t a myth because suddenly my heart felt so full it was going to break. Love wasn’t just a notion. Our love was practically tangible. I felt it moving around between us. A zing. A connection tethering us together even when I thought he was dead.
Preppy’s love wasn’t ‘romantic’. It was beautifully painful. It was the storming-the-castle, take-no-prisoners kind of love and I never wanted to escape from it.
From him.
I didn’t think I had any room left inside my heart but when Bo came along he taught me about an entirely different kind of love. One I thought I was never going to be able to experience.
The kind of love between mother and child.
Just when I thought we were beginning, it was all being taken away.
I was being taken away.
Again.
I’d been blindfolded. A sizzling pain continuously shot from the base of my spine, shocking me every thirty seconds or so. It caused my back muscles to spasm and go ramrod straight as if I’d been poked with a branding iron.
There would be no popping of the emergency latch this time. No escaping. I couldn’t feel my legs or arms. Couldn’t move.
Couldn’t scream.
Paralyzed in both fear and body.
Suddenly, I was ripped from the familiar trunk of the car I’d been shoved into by someone reeking of overly musky cologne. My adrenaline spiked and my heart started to beat a thousand miles a minute, sending alarms ringing throughout my body.
