THREE
Megan awoke a few hours later to an empty bed. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, readjusting them to the afternoon light. She yawned and scratched her head as she threw her feet over the side of their old bed. She walked over to the antique dresser his grandmother had left behind and shuffled through her things, finding her favorite white sundress. Throwing it over her head quickly, she made her way out of the bedroom and started down the stairs.
She glanced around for any movement as her hand slid down the banister on the stairs. Her head shot to the left when she heard dishes clanking against one another. God that boy had an appetite. Her soft footsteps filled the otherwise quiet house as she walked into the kitchen. His back was to her as he made himself a sandwich, the sunlight spilling in though the little window to the right of him.
She walked right up to him, slinking her hands around his waist and pushing her breasts into his back. She kissed his freckled shoulders and rubbed his sides gently as he groaned slightly at her. She gripped his wife beater and smiled as she began to run her fingers over one of the new tattoos he had acquired. He turns and kisses her forward and then moves them over to the old kitchen table that his grandfather had made for his grandmother. Megan sat across from him, propping her leg up on his chair, allowing him to grab her ankle as he took the first bite of his sandwich with his other hand.
“I like the new tattoos.” She said quietly.
He smiled back at her and took another bite of his sandwich. She could help by sigh when he stared at her for a second. He looked so tired, so beaten down. Six years is a long time to be away, especially where he was. Even though he had just woken up from his first peaceful sleep in six years, bags still played underneath his eyes. His laugh lines had deepened and the little wrinkles on his forehead where now permanent.
I guess prison will do that to you.
He glanced back up at her as she thought about him, his eyes softening as they spoke to each other without words. You would think that after being hauled off to prison, he would change his ways and become a valuable member of society. But he still had that fire in his eyes, that burning desire to just be… bad. He would never change; but that was okay with her.
“What was it like?” She asked quietly.
He looked up at her, “What was what like?” He said, just as quietly.
She sighed and tilted her head to the side, “You know what I mean.”
He looked back down at his sandwich and took another bite. He then looked back up at her, watching her as he chewed and swallowed his food, “Not fun.”
She had guessed that much. The scars on his body had tipped her off to that fact. She rested her chin on the palm of her hand and decided to leave the subject along,
“I’m glad you're home. I missed you.”
He smiled at her and squeezed her ankle softly, reassuring her that everything was okay. A few minutes later, William finishes off his sandwich and stands from the table, letting go of her ankle. He sets the plate in the sink and washes it quickly, drying it with a hand towel and placing it back in the wooden cabinets.
“You wanna go into Nashville for the weekend? Just walk around for a bit tonight?”
When he caught her look, he chuckled and leaned up against the counter, “I’ll be a good boy, I promise.”
She laughed a little and nodded her head, standing from the round table and starting upstairs to change. About an hour later, they jump into the old Firebird and start their hour drive into Nashville. Megan leans back in the passenger’s seat, throwing her right leg out of the open window and resting her foot on the side mirror. A country tune plays softly from the radio as he hums along, keeping his eyes on the still desolate road.
Megan’s mind began to drift as she breathes in the cooler, night air. She rests her head on the head rest and watches as the sky begins to go pink and orange as the sun starts to set behind the wall of trees. His six year stint in prison began in Nashville. He just could help himself whenever he was there. She didn’t know if it was the bright lights, the alcohol, or the thousands of people but he always got in trouble while in Nashville. Well, he always got in trouble, but it was always worse in Nashville.
She remembered the day like it had just happened. William sat in the driver’s seat, his friend Trace in the passenger’s seat and Megan in the back as they laughed and smoked on their way into Nashville. William had gotten them a room at some fancy hotel for the weekend, just so they could get away. They reached Nashville around nine that evening, Megan’s face lighting up with a smile as they drove slowly through the busy town.
She clapped and squealed happily from the back seat, pointing at all of the places she wanted to go to once they checked into the hotel, “Chill girl, it’s like you’ve never been here before.” Trace said, taking another drag of his cigarette.
“I haven’t been here before, shut up!”
They pulled up to their hotel and jumped out, William throwing the keys to the valet. Megan jumped on him, kissing the side of his face a hundred times as he laughed and they walked into the large lobby. She smiled widely and drummed on Trace’s shoulder as William checked them in; she had never seen anything so… fancy.
Throwing their bags on one of the trolleys, William instructed the bag boy to drop the bags off in the room. He tipped the young kid fifty bucks and then grabbed Megan by the hand, walking them back out into the Nashville night.
“Where do you wanna go baby? The night is yours.”
They went from bar to bar that night, Trace and William buying round after round of tequila and vodka. By the time they left the third bar, Megan was thrown over Williams shoulder, laughing and giggling out of her drunkenness. William patted her bottom and laughed, she never could hold her liquor. He and Trace chatted and lit up two smokes on their way back to the hotel when they passed a closed jewelry store.
The thousands of dollars of shiny jewelry caught Williams attention immediately. He stopped and walked up to the window, the fire igniting in him almost instantly. His fingers began to itch as he looked at all of the pretty jewels. His pupils dilated and his mouth went completely dry as his vision tunneled through the thick, glass window.
“Come on dude.” Trace said, knowing exactly what was happening with his lifelong friend.
“That one would look good on Megan.” William monotone voice said.
“Yeah, it would. We can come back tomorrow when it’s open. Come on, let’s get her into bed.” Trace said, trying to ignore what was happening.
But it was too late. The fire was burning and there was no putting it out. William tore himself from the window and continued to walk back to the hotel, planning the job in his head as Trace chatted beside him. Once they were back at the room, Trace made a b-line for the bathroom as William placed his now sleeping beauty in one of the two beds. He removed her from her light pink sundress and cowboy boots. He took her his own shirt and placed it on her body, lifting her up and throwing back the covers.
A few hours later, William laid awake, staring up at the ceiling as Megan slept beside him. He turned his head and looked at the sleeping Trace. He shouldn’t go, he shouldn’t do it. Not while they are with him anyway. He rubbed his hands together anxiously, trying to stop his mind from racing. He could get one hundred thousand dollars for that stuff easily, he even knew who he could sell it too. And it’s not like he didn’t have the skill to get it, oh, he knew exactly what to do to get what he wanted.
And as Megan slept, William changed into his dark denim jeans and black wife beater. He threw on his black coat and left the room, looking back at her one last time before heading out.
Next thing she knew, she was being violently shaken, Williams voice breaking into her subconscious, “Megan! Wake up! Wake up girl!”
She sat up and scratched her head as she tried to wake up from her drunken sleep, “What’s going on?” She slurred.
“We have to go, get up.” William said, stuffing something shiny into his bag as he raced around the room.
Trace threw on his clothes, not even asking any questions and helped William, grabbing all of their belongings and throwing them into the duffel bags. William grabbed a pair of jeans Megan had packed and dropped to his knees, forcing the material onto her legs. He jammed her feet into her boots and picked her up forcefully, wrapping his hand around her arm and dragging her to the door.
The threesome quickly made their way into the lobby and checked out, walking quickly outside and requesting the old Firebird. William kept a hand on Megan as she continued to question him, “Megan, quiet down.” He warned as he looked from side to side.
“What did you do? What did you do William?” She began to cry, that sinking feeling coming to the pit of her stomach.
He ignored her and through the bags into the car as soon as the valet pulled around the corner. He tipped the boy and threw Megan into the car, jogging around the front of the car and jumping into the driver’s seat as Trace jumped in as well. He popped the clutch, the tires squealing against the concrete as he peeled out from the hotel. Five minutes hadn’t passed before they whizzed past three cop cars, all descending toward the jewelry store.
Megan’s eyes widened as she turned and watched through the back window as one of the cop cars pulled a U-turn in the street, “He’s turning around William!”
William pulled a quick left turn and threw the car into fifth gear, pushing the car to almost one hundred and ten miles an hour. He whipped the car through the city until they were on the outskirts of town, but he knew he couldn’t get them away. He could faintly hear the sirens in the distance.
He pulled the old Firebird over on a small road and jumped out, grabbing at his duffel bag. Trace and Megan followed, standing beside the car as William fumbled through the bag. When he pulled out one of the dainty necklaces, Megan threw her hand to her mouth to stifle her quiet scream. He unlatched the hook and threw it around her neck, clasping it closed again.
He ran his hand through her dark hair as she cried and smashed his lips onto hers for what he knew as the last time. His head snapped to the right as he saw headlights turning up the road the old, quiet road.
“Run!” He said, pushing her harshly away from him.
“No! I won’t leave you!” She screamed back.
“Trace, get her and run, now! Go!” He said, pushing his friend and jumping back into the driver’s seat.
Trace grabbed Megan as she screamed and fought against him to get back to William. They continued to run through the dark night as William struggled to get the old car to start again. The sirens got louder and louder as Trace and Megan ran down the street. Megan turned just in time to see William grabbing the old duffel bag and trying to run, leaving the old car behind as the cops pulled up on him. Trace dove into her, pushing her into the wet grass and bushes. They huddled together and peeked through the bushes, breathing harshly as they heard the cops screaming at him.
“Drop the bag! Put your hands on your head and walk slowly toward us!”
“What are you thinking about over there?” William asked, pulling Megan from her memories harshly.
Her fingers instantly reached up and began to play with the necklace that he had given her on that faithful night, “Nothing, just thinking.”
William glanced down at the necklace and then grabbed her left hand, squeezing it tightly and then linking his fingers with hers. Megan smiled a little and then continued to look out the window as the sun continued to fall behind the trees. She dropped her right hand from the dainty necklace and ran her manicured fingernails over the back of his hand that was still linked with hers.
She wanted to believe that he would be a good boy while they were there.
But she knew him better than that.
And then she prayed.
Story Tags: williamrast southernj
