Uncaged
another moment.
"Mommy?"
I'm pulled from the uncomfortable slumber I had fallen into, by a soft hand shaking my shoulder. I don't want to wake up. My dreams were happy, of Brian and Brianna and I together - I had gotten to the kitchen in time before Tiffany, and I had told him, and he truly did jump with joy. And we lived as happily as we could in the manor with the Sevenfold Gang and had a happy family and-
"Mommy, your p`one."
My eyebrows scrunch together as I try to figure out what my daughter is saying. And then, I hear the faint vibrations of my cellphone on the floor. I roll onto my side, off the bed with a grunt, cursing as I reach fr the glowing device. The number is glaring at me angrily. It's almost noon and I'm three hours late for work. I answer the call and keep the phone a few centimeters from my ear.
"Hello?" I regret ever answering the call.
"Where the hell are you, Rebecca! I've had to turn away three of your clients already!"
I groan. I completely forgot about my appointments.
"I'm sorry, Kasey. I got in late last night and didn't set my alarm. I'll be there in about 30 minutes."
"You know what, Rebecca? Don't even worry about it. You're fired!"
The call ends, but I still have the phone up to my hear, listening to the dial tone. I lay there a little longer, my eyes closed and my breathing calm. Brianna slowly climbs onto my chest, and lays her head against my shoulder.
"Is mommy in trouble?" she asks me, and I don't answer her. How am I to answer her? If I say 'yes', then she will think it is all her fault that I've gotten fired. But if I say 'no', I will be lying and I don't want to do that to my baby girl.
"No, sweetie. Mommy's not in trouble."
Sometimes, though, a lie is better than a truth.
"Does mommy have to go to work?"
I know I should be looking for another job, since I have lost the two that I had kept steady, but with everything that has happened lately, I just want to stuff my face with diner food and sulk for a bit more and watch Disney movies with Brianna. That's how I cope with the pain. I surround myself with things I love.
"Nope!" I try to say cheerily, but my voice is a few octaves too high. Sitting up, and holding Brianna in my arms, I smile down at her. "Mommy doesn't have to go to work today, so its just you and me, baby."
Brianna giggles and squeals with happiness, warming my broken heart. She bounces in my arms. I smile, a true smile for once, and kiss her cheek.
"Let's go get some lunch, yeah?"
"Marco's! I want Marco's!"
I give her a nod. "Marco's it is." She rolls out of my arms and runs over to her small dresser where I keep her clothes. I smile as I fondly watch her pull out what she wants to wear, and then run back over to hand them over to me for my approval. "Is this what you want to wear, sweetie?" She grins and nods her messy, bed head. I look down at the yellow top and matching dark-blue denim pants. "Alright then, Bri. Let's get you out of your pjs."
After the quick five minutes of changing Brianna from her pajamas and into the outfit she picked out, I sat her on the bathroom counter to gently pull a brush through her hair. The tangles came out easier than I expected, and her curls fell in smooth waves over her tiny shoulders. I added a small yellow bow to hold back her bangs and grinned at the adorable face that looks up at me with bright brown eyes.
"Go watch some tv, okay? Mommy's gotta go change now."
"Okie dokie!" she says, before I help her down, and she scampers off into the small living area of our equally small two-bedroom apartment.
I watch as she disappears around the corner, and listen out for the sound of the television being turned on. Then, once I'm sure Brianna is distracted by the noon-cartoons, I turn to look at myself in the bathroom mirror. My eye make up is smudged and mascara has stained my face from where I had been crying last night. I sigh, disgusted at myself, before grabbing a rag to wet it and clean my face of the mess.
Once I'm sure I look decent enough for public eyes, I pull off my uniform and walk into my bedroom. Within a good ten minutes, I've dressed in simple clothes, ran a hand through my hair, and left it down. My purse, sunglasses and keys are the first things in my hands before I grab Brianna's white sandals from the hallway and carry the things into the living area. The toddler sits on the couch, completely captivated by whatever cartoon is on the screen.
"Bri?" I say, gathering her small amount of attention. I dangle the sandals in the air and she lifts up her legs, wiggling her toes for me to put on the shoes. Laughing softly at her, and shaking my head at the pitiful act, I walk over and put them on her small feet. Her tan skin, from both the Miami sun and the genes of her father, contrasts well with the white and yellow.
"Are we going to Marco's?" she asks me, a happy grin on her face as I pick her up and carry her against my hip. I laugh and nod, using my free hand to slip my sunglasses on my eyes.
"Yes, Bri, we're going to Marco's. Do you know what you want?"
"Burger and frenc` fries and, and, a 'berry s`ake!"
The smile never leaves my eyes.
We're in my car without minutes; Brianna buckled in her car seat and we behind the wheel, listening to what ever music plays from the random radio station I put it on last. Marco's Diner is only a ten minute drive from my apartment. It's during the middle of the lunch rush, but today the diner is surprising slow. Our usual waitress, Hanna, a college student that wants to become a junior high math teacher, meets us at the counter with a friendly smile.
"Hey there, Bri!" she greets my toddler. Brianna bounces happily in the tall chair, sitting on her knees so to lean over the counter.
"`I, `Anna!"
The waitress and I smile at each other. "Still working on those 'h' sounds, huh?" Brianna nods, shuffling in the chair before spouting out her order. Hanna doesn't bother writing it down, knowing we get the same thing.
"The usual for me, too, Hanna."
She nods, stuffing her hands in the front pockets of her apron and pulls out two drink straws. "Alrighty, then! Two strawberry-chocolate milkshakes coming up!"
Brianna and I sit at the counter; I lean my elbow against the cool surface, resting my cheek on my fist, as I watch the three-year-old rearrange the condiments on the counter, first doing it from shortest bottle to tallest bottle, and then by color. She hasn't done that before, and I'm surprised when she starts to build something with them.
"Here you go!"
Looking up, I'm surprised the usual five minutes it takes to make our milkshakes has ended. I take both of them from Hanna with a smile and a nod.
"Your food should be ready pretty soon. Chuck has been on a roll all day."
There's another nod, but I'm too focused on keeping Brianna's fingers out of the sweet drink as I try to get the drinking straw out of the thin packaging paper. It's a lot harder than it seems. Finally, after much trial and error and stern 'no's to Brianna, we're sipping at our milkshakes happily. Our cheeseburgers and fries follow soon after.
I watch my daughter fondly, smiling like any other mother would as they watch their child try to do things on their own before realizing they need help and don't even need to ask for it - because mom is already there to help them. My plate is left half full as I help Brianna with her large burger and a few small headaches from drinking her malt too quickly. It's a quarter to two in the afternoon by the time Brianna has finished and I leave my plate half full, no longer hungry.
"Let's go to the park?" I suggest to her once she's done, and the grin on her face gives me her answer. "Okay, lemme pay Hanna real quick."
Brianna hops down from the stool and clasps her hand in mine, grinning as we wait at the register for Hanna to be free for a moment, by the door. I glance out, looking at the afternoon traffic for any signs if there's going to be a jam or not. However, the two SUVs parked near the entrance of the diner parking lot is what catches my attention. I take a quick observation of the diner. There's only four other people, and their cars are parked by mine. Who do the SUVs belong to?
"Enjoy your lunch?" Hanna asks, typing against the keys of the register. I pull my attention away from the SUVs and to the waitress.
"Of course," I answer with a nod, but my eyes fall back to the outside the diner.
Hanna rings up my ticket, and hands my change back in a matter of seconds. My eyes stay on the parking lot.
"Everything okay, Becca?" she asks, but I don't answer.
I simply pick Brianna up and walk outside, leaving the ten dollars of change as Hanna's tip on the counter. As soon as the diner door shuts behind me, the doors to the SUVs open and five men dressed in black suits make themselves known. I begin my walk to my car, keys clutched in one hand as I situate Brianna onto my hip.
"Rebecca Lawrence." It sounded more as a statement than a question. They know who I am.
I stop and look at the one that called to me. His hair is a sandy brown, combed back out of his face, but his eyes are covered by dark sunglasses to keep out the sun.
"Depends on who's asking," I reply, turning my body to keep Brianna out of their view. No one touches my daughter and gets away with it. The one with the sandy brown hair pulls a badge out of his inner suit pocket and flips it open. I see the faint letters of FBI.
"We're going to need you to come with us. We have a couple of questions to ask you about a certain Brian Haner."
Play it cool, Beck, play it cool. You don't know him and they can't prove it.
"What makes you think I can answer any questions about him?"
His lips turn upward into a dark smirk. Shit.
"You have his daughter in your arms, do you not?"
Double shit.
My hesitation is just the answer he needs.
"Please, Rebecca. If you come with us now we won't harm you or your daughter. We just need to ask a few questions."
I don't answer. I can't answer. But I can do the one thing that Jimmy had told me to do if something bad ever happened - I called Brian.
I'm sure the agents weren't ready for when I pulled out my cell phone and pressed the first speed-dial number plugged into the system. I don't bother to run to my car, I simply hold Brianna tightly to me and pray Brian picks up.
And then comes the dial tone.
"We're sorry, but the number you are trying to reach is currently not available or no longer in service. Plus hang up and dial again-"
"NO!"
I drop the phone to the pavement just as I feel Brianna being ripped from my arms. I watch through fearful, teary eyes as they carry her to one of the SUVs and drive off. I don't give a fight as they drag me to the other. My daughter is gone, and I know that if I don't answer their questions the way they want me to, I'll never see her again.
I'm not sure when the shock finally hits, when I no longer feel the numbness in my arms that should be my daughter. Looking to the agent beside me, I stare at him for a moment before reaching into his open suit jacket and grabbing for the gun that I know is there. The metal is warm from his body heat. I pull it from the holster, and as he reaches for me to stop, I pull the trigger, burying a bullet deep into his chest. The sound makes my ears ring and my head hurt.
The car swerves, causing car horns to start going off from others on the road. The agent beside me grabs a hold of my arms, pulling the gun from my hands and suddenly, my hands are covered and handcuffed. I can't move my fingers - not even to pull them from the fist I had balled them up in.
"No!" I scream once again, fighting against the hold. "No! Let me go! Give me back my daughter! Give her back you-"
I yell and wince at the prick on my shoulder. Looking over at the other agent, the one that isn't dying beside me, he has a needle in my skin, and a lime-green liquid being injected in my system.
"Fucking bitch." I hear him say.
When I wake up, I'm alone in a white jail cell. After my bearings come back and I can stand up straight, I somehow stumble over to the door and beat on it, gaining whatever attention I can from the guards that wait outside. I scream and beat my fists on the cold, hard metal. There are voices in the far off distance, until a pair of eyes looks down at me from the small slip at the top of the door. They glare at me.
"Shut the fuck up!"
"Let me out!" I scream, grabbing onto the door handle and tugging on it hard enough to pop my shoulder. "Give me back my daughter!"
"I said shut up!"
He slams something against the metal, and it makes my ears ring. I'm thrown off balance, and end up stumbling back from the door. There's a gruff voice mumbling curses and then a click of a lock. The door swings open, revealing the full body of the guard.
"C'mon. You're wanted for questioning."
My ears are still ringing from the beating on the metal. He grabs my upper arm and leads me, roughly, out of the cell block and into a long, bland hall way. There's a shuffling of feet, and phones ringing, and the sound of machines processing paper copies. Somehow, I find myself in an interrogation room, just like the ones on the television crime shows, handcuffed to the cold metal. I shiver at the low temperature, and move in my seat to hopefully gather some friction-induced warmth.
The door opens, and in walks the sandy-brown-haired agent. He has a stack of files in his hands along with a styrofoam cup of coffee.
"Hello Rebecca. How are you feeling?"
"Like shit."
He doesn't give me a change in expression as he sits down, playing his things on the table.
"I'm sorry to hear that. My name is Luke Jefferson. I'm going to ask you a few questions."
"And what makes you think I'm going to answer any of them?"
He ignores me.
"When did you last see Brian Elwin Haner, Jr.?"
Lie.
"Four years ago."
"Does he know about his daughter?"
Lie.
"Yes."
"Why are you two apart?"
Lie.
"He wanted to protect us, so he sent us away while I was still pregnant."
"Did you know he was here in Miami?"
Yes.
"No."
"Oh?" He looks up from the manila folder he has opened in his hands. "But it says here, that last night you were waitressing at a hotel where a party of his was being hosted at, and cameras show you two conversing in the parking lot."
Lie better, Beck, better!
"I did see him last night, but we argued and I went home not long after I arrived at work."
The agent closes the folder, but keeps a hand half under it, holding down something. He presses his other hand to the table, leaning forward to me. I don't move. He looks closely at me, his hazel eyes staring.
"Did he follow you?"
"No."
"This says differently."
A black and white photograph is put in front of me. I recognize the hallway of my apartment building floor. Brian was walking out of my apartment, B28, closing the door behind him.
He knew about Brianna, now.
He know where I lived.
He knew.
He knew.
He fucking knew.
I continued to stare at the photo, pure surprise and shock and hurttransitioning its way across my face. I had tried so hard to hide Brianna from him, from that life style, so hard, but after all that effort, after all I had sacrificed to keep us hidden, her hidden, it was all in vain. Every. Last. Bit. It had blown up in my face.
"He didn't know about Brianna, did he, Rebecca?" Jefferson asks me softly, surprising me at how gentle his question sounded. I shake my head, and wipe at my eyes. "You tried to call him though, at the diner, right?"
"When can I have my daughter back?" I ignore his question. He frowns.
"He can't hide from us forever, Rebecca. We already have a bug in the manor. " My eyes widen. And then, he waves at the mirrored window. It's silent for a few seconds until the door behind him opens.
I stare up at Tiffany in disbelief. Had she been the bug in the manor this whole time? these whole five years?
"You!" I screech, standing up to jump across the table at her. The handcuffs keep me from doing so. They are the only thing keeping me from attacking her. "You bitch! You have ruined my life!"
Tiffany rolls her eyes and flicks a hand through her hair.
"Please, darling, I have done no such thing.You're the one that couldn't pleasure him like I could."
"Tiffany--"
I interrupt Jefferson. "You're nothing but a hole for him to fuc-" I pause. "Where's your ring?"
Her expression turns sinister.
"That old thing? It was just a prop to keep the others off my man, hun."
"So that means... he didn't..."
"Propose? No, Brian didn't propose to me. He didn't even know I was wearing it. I knew you would see the ring."
"You knew he was going to see me!"
"Honey, of course I knew. I was the one to suggest the hotel because I knew you would be working there."
Everything suddenly started to click together and make sense. And suddenly, there is hope that blossoms in my chest. Tiffany is just a bed-warmer, if even that, and there's nothing keeping them together but that one little thing. The hope blossoms into something bigger. Courage.
Jefferson's phone begins to ring, and he answers. He says nothing; just watches me as I shift in my metal chair. I can hear a small voice coming from the receiver. He hangs up after a few moments.
"The agent you shot in the car is out of surgery. He'll be fine with a few months of rest."
I wince.
"Tell him I'm sorry." Jefferson nods.
"He's still going to hold a grudge."
I don't answer, because I'm interrupted when Jefferson's phone starts to ring again. He looks at the screen, frowning a what he sees before answering.
"Agent Jefferson--"
There's a pause.
"Who is this!"
There's another pause. He looks over at me again and holds the phone out begrudgingly. I take it the best way I can in my cuffed hands, when Jefferson makes no move to remove them, and press the receiver to my ear.
"Hello?"
"Are you okay, Becca?"
I sigh in great relief.
"Yes, Zee, I'm okay."
"Good. Syn and Shadz should be there in about thirty seconds to get you." I hear gunshots from down the hall, now.
Jefferson runs to the door, Tiffany behind him.
"I hear them, Zee."
"Good. Johnny and Arin are getting Brianna."
I don't bother asking him how they know about Brianna. This is Zacky Vengeance we're talking about; he knows where to get the best information the quickest. I don't ask who Arin is.
"Okay, I'll see you soon, Zee?"
"See you in a few, Becca."
Jefferson and Tiffany have left the room, the left ajar, and I can see the few bullet holes embedded in the hallway walls. Heavy foot steps. More gunshots. Silence.
"Becca?"
"Shadz!" I never though I'd be that happy to see him ever again. I hear his heavy footfalls coming down the hall until he runs into the room. He looks at my hands, still cuffed to the table, and pulls his gun back out from the back of his pants.
"Hey, Becca," he greets hurriedly, holding the gun against the link of the cuffs and both of us turn our faces away from it just as he pulls the trigger. My ears ring again, but it goes away quickly. "C'mon. Johnny has Brianna."
He grabs my hand, the cuffs still around my wrists and the small chain clinking, and takes off back into the hall and down one side of it. Brian has his back to us, a gun clasped in his hands as he looks around the corner of the wall, looking for anymore agents. He doesn't look at me as we start to move down the next hall.
We pass Tiffany's body - there's a bullet hole between her dead, open eyes.
Matt pulls us into a stairway and starts to the top of the building. My thighs and calves are burning.
"Where are we going?" I ask Matt, panting for breath after we've gone up four flights of stairs.
"Helicopter's on the roof. It's going to take you to a secluded airport and then fly you out to California."
"What about Brianna?"
Brian pauses at the top stair above us before opening the door that leads to the roof. It's now that I realize the sound of the blades on the helicopter cutting through the air. Neither Matt nor Brian answer me. Brian disappears as Matt helps me into the back passenger seating. I see Brianna already strapped in with Johnny beside her and a new face sitting across from her.
"Mommy!"
I barely hear her over the sound of the helicopter but I'm glad to see her ears are protected by a headset.
"Hey baby," I greet her back, although I doubt she even heard me. I couldn't even hear myself say it. Johnny smiles from beside her and hands me my own headset once I'm buckled in. I cover my ears and place the microphone to the side of my mouth. Matt closes the door I'm in and backs way from the helicopter, dialing a number into the pad of his cellphone. Brian has disappeared.
"ETA seven minutes."
I'm surprised when Brian's voice crackles over the head set. It's not until now that I can see his spikey black hair from over the cockpit pilot seat. He turns back to look at us, and for a moment our eyes connect. They hold the same cocky, better-than-you glimmer in them, and this makes the tension in my body relax away.
We're going to be fine. Brianna and I are going to be fine now that we're with Brian.
I'm pulled from the uncomfortable slumber I had fallen into, by a soft hand shaking my shoulder. I don't want to wake up. My dreams were happy, of Brian and Brianna and I together - I had gotten to the kitchen in time before Tiffany, and I had told him, and he truly did jump with joy. And we lived as happily as we could in the manor with the Sevenfold Gang and had a happy family and-
"Mommy, your p`one."
My eyebrows scrunch together as I try to figure out what my daughter is saying. And then, I hear the faint vibrations of my cellphone on the floor. I roll onto my side, off the bed with a grunt, cursing as I reach fr the glowing device. The number is glaring at me angrily. It's almost noon and I'm three hours late for work. I answer the call and keep the phone a few centimeters from my ear.
"Hello?" I regret ever answering the call.
"Where the hell are you, Rebecca! I've had to turn away three of your clients already!"
I groan. I completely forgot about my appointments.
"I'm sorry, Kasey. I got in late last night and didn't set my alarm. I'll be there in about 30 minutes."
"You know what, Rebecca? Don't even worry about it. You're fired!"
The call ends, but I still have the phone up to my hear, listening to the dial tone. I lay there a little longer, my eyes closed and my breathing calm. Brianna slowly climbs onto my chest, and lays her head against my shoulder.
"Is mommy in trouble?" she asks me, and I don't answer her. How am I to answer her? If I say 'yes', then she will think it is all her fault that I've gotten fired. But if I say 'no', I will be lying and I don't want to do that to my baby girl.
"No, sweetie. Mommy's not in trouble."
Sometimes, though, a lie is better than a truth.
"Does mommy have to go to work?"
I know I should be looking for another job, since I have lost the two that I had kept steady, but with everything that has happened lately, I just want to stuff my face with diner food and sulk for a bit more and watch Disney movies with Brianna. That's how I cope with the pain. I surround myself with things I love.
"Nope!" I try to say cheerily, but my voice is a few octaves too high. Sitting up, and holding Brianna in my arms, I smile down at her. "Mommy doesn't have to go to work today, so its just you and me, baby."
Brianna giggles and squeals with happiness, warming my broken heart. She bounces in my arms. I smile, a true smile for once, and kiss her cheek.
"Let's go get some lunch, yeah?"
"Marco's! I want Marco's!"
I give her a nod. "Marco's it is." She rolls out of my arms and runs over to her small dresser where I keep her clothes. I smile as I fondly watch her pull out what she wants to wear, and then run back over to hand them over to me for my approval. "Is this what you want to wear, sweetie?" She grins and nods her messy, bed head. I look down at the yellow top and matching dark-blue denim pants. "Alright then, Bri. Let's get you out of your pjs."
After the quick five minutes of changing Brianna from her pajamas and into the outfit she picked out, I sat her on the bathroom counter to gently pull a brush through her hair. The tangles came out easier than I expected, and her curls fell in smooth waves over her tiny shoulders. I added a small yellow bow to hold back her bangs and grinned at the adorable face that looks up at me with bright brown eyes.
"Go watch some tv, okay? Mommy's gotta go change now."
"Okie dokie!" she says, before I help her down, and she scampers off into the small living area of our equally small two-bedroom apartment.
I watch as she disappears around the corner, and listen out for the sound of the television being turned on. Then, once I'm sure Brianna is distracted by the noon-cartoons, I turn to look at myself in the bathroom mirror. My eye make up is smudged and mascara has stained my face from where I had been crying last night. I sigh, disgusted at myself, before grabbing a rag to wet it and clean my face of the mess.
Once I'm sure I look decent enough for public eyes, I pull off my uniform and walk into my bedroom. Within a good ten minutes, I've dressed in simple clothes, ran a hand through my hair, and left it down. My purse, sunglasses and keys are the first things in my hands before I grab Brianna's white sandals from the hallway and carry the things into the living area. The toddler sits on the couch, completely captivated by whatever cartoon is on the screen.
"Bri?" I say, gathering her small amount of attention. I dangle the sandals in the air and she lifts up her legs, wiggling her toes for me to put on the shoes. Laughing softly at her, and shaking my head at the pitiful act, I walk over and put them on her small feet. Her tan skin, from both the Miami sun and the genes of her father, contrasts well with the white and yellow.
"Are we going to Marco's?" she asks me, a happy grin on her face as I pick her up and carry her against my hip. I laugh and nod, using my free hand to slip my sunglasses on my eyes.
"Yes, Bri, we're going to Marco's. Do you know what you want?"
"Burger and frenc` fries and, and, a 'berry s`ake!"
The smile never leaves my eyes.
We're in my car without minutes; Brianna buckled in her car seat and we behind the wheel, listening to what ever music plays from the random radio station I put it on last. Marco's Diner is only a ten minute drive from my apartment. It's during the middle of the lunch rush, but today the diner is surprising slow. Our usual waitress, Hanna, a college student that wants to become a junior high math teacher, meets us at the counter with a friendly smile.
"Hey there, Bri!" she greets my toddler. Brianna bounces happily in the tall chair, sitting on her knees so to lean over the counter.
"`I, `Anna!"
The waitress and I smile at each other. "Still working on those 'h' sounds, huh?" Brianna nods, shuffling in the chair before spouting out her order. Hanna doesn't bother writing it down, knowing we get the same thing.
"The usual for me, too, Hanna."
She nods, stuffing her hands in the front pockets of her apron and pulls out two drink straws. "Alrighty, then! Two strawberry-chocolate milkshakes coming up!"
Brianna and I sit at the counter; I lean my elbow against the cool surface, resting my cheek on my fist, as I watch the three-year-old rearrange the condiments on the counter, first doing it from shortest bottle to tallest bottle, and then by color. She hasn't done that before, and I'm surprised when she starts to build something with them.
"Here you go!"
Looking up, I'm surprised the usual five minutes it takes to make our milkshakes has ended. I take both of them from Hanna with a smile and a nod.
"Your food should be ready pretty soon. Chuck has been on a roll all day."
There's another nod, but I'm too focused on keeping Brianna's fingers out of the sweet drink as I try to get the drinking straw out of the thin packaging paper. It's a lot harder than it seems. Finally, after much trial and error and stern 'no's to Brianna, we're sipping at our milkshakes happily. Our cheeseburgers and fries follow soon after.
I watch my daughter fondly, smiling like any other mother would as they watch their child try to do things on their own before realizing they need help and don't even need to ask for it - because mom is already there to help them. My plate is left half full as I help Brianna with her large burger and a few small headaches from drinking her malt too quickly. It's a quarter to two in the afternoon by the time Brianna has finished and I leave my plate half full, no longer hungry.
"Let's go to the park?" I suggest to her once she's done, and the grin on her face gives me her answer. "Okay, lemme pay Hanna real quick."
Brianna hops down from the stool and clasps her hand in mine, grinning as we wait at the register for Hanna to be free for a moment, by the door. I glance out, looking at the afternoon traffic for any signs if there's going to be a jam or not. However, the two SUVs parked near the entrance of the diner parking lot is what catches my attention. I take a quick observation of the diner. There's only four other people, and their cars are parked by mine. Who do the SUVs belong to?
"Enjoy your lunch?" Hanna asks, typing against the keys of the register. I pull my attention away from the SUVs and to the waitress.
"Of course," I answer with a nod, but my eyes fall back to the outside the diner.
Hanna rings up my ticket, and hands my change back in a matter of seconds. My eyes stay on the parking lot.
"Everything okay, Becca?" she asks, but I don't answer.
I simply pick Brianna up and walk outside, leaving the ten dollars of change as Hanna's tip on the counter. As soon as the diner door shuts behind me, the doors to the SUVs open and five men dressed in black suits make themselves known. I begin my walk to my car, keys clutched in one hand as I situate Brianna onto my hip.
"Rebecca Lawrence." It sounded more as a statement than a question. They know who I am.
I stop and look at the one that called to me. His hair is a sandy brown, combed back out of his face, but his eyes are covered by dark sunglasses to keep out the sun.
"Depends on who's asking," I reply, turning my body to keep Brianna out of their view. No one touches my daughter and gets away with it. The one with the sandy brown hair pulls a badge out of his inner suit pocket and flips it open. I see the faint letters of FBI.
"We're going to need you to come with us. We have a couple of questions to ask you about a certain Brian Haner."
Play it cool, Beck, play it cool. You don't know him and they can't prove it.
"What makes you think I can answer any questions about him?"
His lips turn upward into a dark smirk. Shit.
"You have his daughter in your arms, do you not?"
Double shit.
My hesitation is just the answer he needs.
"Please, Rebecca. If you come with us now we won't harm you or your daughter. We just need to ask a few questions."
I don't answer. I can't answer. But I can do the one thing that Jimmy had told me to do if something bad ever happened - I called Brian.
I'm sure the agents weren't ready for when I pulled out my cell phone and pressed the first speed-dial number plugged into the system. I don't bother to run to my car, I simply hold Brianna tightly to me and pray Brian picks up.
And then comes the dial tone.
"We're sorry, but the number you are trying to reach is currently not available or no longer in service. Plus hang up and dial again-"
"NO!"
I drop the phone to the pavement just as I feel Brianna being ripped from my arms. I watch through fearful, teary eyes as they carry her to one of the SUVs and drive off. I don't give a fight as they drag me to the other. My daughter is gone, and I know that if I don't answer their questions the way they want me to, I'll never see her again.
I'm not sure when the shock finally hits, when I no longer feel the numbness in my arms that should be my daughter. Looking to the agent beside me, I stare at him for a moment before reaching into his open suit jacket and grabbing for the gun that I know is there. The metal is warm from his body heat. I pull it from the holster, and as he reaches for me to stop, I pull the trigger, burying a bullet deep into his chest. The sound makes my ears ring and my head hurt.
The car swerves, causing car horns to start going off from others on the road. The agent beside me grabs a hold of my arms, pulling the gun from my hands and suddenly, my hands are covered and handcuffed. I can't move my fingers - not even to pull them from the fist I had balled them up in.
"No!" I scream once again, fighting against the hold. "No! Let me go! Give me back my daughter! Give her back you-"
I yell and wince at the prick on my shoulder. Looking over at the other agent, the one that isn't dying beside me, he has a needle in my skin, and a lime-green liquid being injected in my system.
"Fucking bitch." I hear him say.
When I wake up, I'm alone in a white jail cell. After my bearings come back and I can stand up straight, I somehow stumble over to the door and beat on it, gaining whatever attention I can from the guards that wait outside. I scream and beat my fists on the cold, hard metal. There are voices in the far off distance, until a pair of eyes looks down at me from the small slip at the top of the door. They glare at me.
"Shut the fuck up!"
"Let me out!" I scream, grabbing onto the door handle and tugging on it hard enough to pop my shoulder. "Give me back my daughter!"
"I said shut up!"
He slams something against the metal, and it makes my ears ring. I'm thrown off balance, and end up stumbling back from the door. There's a gruff voice mumbling curses and then a click of a lock. The door swings open, revealing the full body of the guard.
"C'mon. You're wanted for questioning."
My ears are still ringing from the beating on the metal. He grabs my upper arm and leads me, roughly, out of the cell block and into a long, bland hall way. There's a shuffling of feet, and phones ringing, and the sound of machines processing paper copies. Somehow, I find myself in an interrogation room, just like the ones on the television crime shows, handcuffed to the cold metal. I shiver at the low temperature, and move in my seat to hopefully gather some friction-induced warmth.
The door opens, and in walks the sandy-brown-haired agent. He has a stack of files in his hands along with a styrofoam cup of coffee.
"Hello Rebecca. How are you feeling?"
"Like shit."
He doesn't give me a change in expression as he sits down, playing his things on the table.
"I'm sorry to hear that. My name is Luke Jefferson. I'm going to ask you a few questions."
"And what makes you think I'm going to answer any of them?"
He ignores me.
"When did you last see Brian Elwin Haner, Jr.?"
Lie.
"Four years ago."
"Does he know about his daughter?"
Lie.
"Yes."
"Why are you two apart?"
Lie.
"He wanted to protect us, so he sent us away while I was still pregnant."
"Did you know he was here in Miami?"
Yes.
"No."
"Oh?" He looks up from the manila folder he has opened in his hands. "But it says here, that last night you were waitressing at a hotel where a party of his was being hosted at, and cameras show you two conversing in the parking lot."
Lie better, Beck, better!
"I did see him last night, but we argued and I went home not long after I arrived at work."
The agent closes the folder, but keeps a hand half under it, holding down something. He presses his other hand to the table, leaning forward to me. I don't move. He looks closely at me, his hazel eyes staring.
"Did he follow you?"
"No."
"This says differently."
A black and white photograph is put in front of me. I recognize the hallway of my apartment building floor. Brian was walking out of my apartment, B28, closing the door behind him.
He knew about Brianna, now.
He know where I lived.
He knew.
He knew.
He fucking knew.
I continued to stare at the photo, pure surprise and shock and hurttransitioning its way across my face. I had tried so hard to hide Brianna from him, from that life style, so hard, but after all that effort, after all I had sacrificed to keep us hidden, her hidden, it was all in vain. Every. Last. Bit. It had blown up in my face.
"He didn't know about Brianna, did he, Rebecca?" Jefferson asks me softly, surprising me at how gentle his question sounded. I shake my head, and wipe at my eyes. "You tried to call him though, at the diner, right?"
"When can I have my daughter back?" I ignore his question. He frowns.
"He can't hide from us forever, Rebecca. We already have a bug in the manor. " My eyes widen. And then, he waves at the mirrored window. It's silent for a few seconds until the door behind him opens.
I stare up at Tiffany in disbelief. Had she been the bug in the manor this whole time? these whole five years?
"You!" I screech, standing up to jump across the table at her. The handcuffs keep me from doing so. They are the only thing keeping me from attacking her. "You bitch! You have ruined my life!"
Tiffany rolls her eyes and flicks a hand through her hair.
"Please, darling, I have done no such thing.You're the one that couldn't pleasure him like I could."
"Tiffany--"
I interrupt Jefferson. "You're nothing but a hole for him to fuc-" I pause. "Where's your ring?"
Her expression turns sinister.
"That old thing? It was just a prop to keep the others off my man, hun."
"So that means... he didn't..."
"Propose? No, Brian didn't propose to me. He didn't even know I was wearing it. I knew you would see the ring."
"You knew he was going to see me!"
"Honey, of course I knew. I was the one to suggest the hotel because I knew you would be working there."
Everything suddenly started to click together and make sense. And suddenly, there is hope that blossoms in my chest. Tiffany is just a bed-warmer, if even that, and there's nothing keeping them together but that one little thing. The hope blossoms into something bigger. Courage.
Jefferson's phone begins to ring, and he answers. He says nothing; just watches me as I shift in my metal chair. I can hear a small voice coming from the receiver. He hangs up after a few moments.
"The agent you shot in the car is out of surgery. He'll be fine with a few months of rest."
I wince.
"Tell him I'm sorry." Jefferson nods.
"He's still going to hold a grudge."
I don't answer, because I'm interrupted when Jefferson's phone starts to ring again. He looks at the screen, frowning a what he sees before answering.
"Agent Jefferson--"
There's a pause.
"Who is this!"
There's another pause. He looks over at me again and holds the phone out begrudgingly. I take it the best way I can in my cuffed hands, when Jefferson makes no move to remove them, and press the receiver to my ear.
"Hello?"
"Are you okay, Becca?"
I sigh in great relief.
"Yes, Zee, I'm okay."
"Good. Syn and Shadz should be there in about thirty seconds to get you." I hear gunshots from down the hall, now.
Jefferson runs to the door, Tiffany behind him.
"I hear them, Zee."
"Good. Johnny and Arin are getting Brianna."
I don't bother asking him how they know about Brianna. This is Zacky Vengeance we're talking about; he knows where to get the best information the quickest. I don't ask who Arin is.
"Okay, I'll see you soon, Zee?"
"See you in a few, Becca."
Jefferson and Tiffany have left the room, the left ajar, and I can see the few bullet holes embedded in the hallway walls. Heavy foot steps. More gunshots. Silence.
"Becca?"
"Shadz!" I never though I'd be that happy to see him ever again. I hear his heavy footfalls coming down the hall until he runs into the room. He looks at my hands, still cuffed to the table, and pulls his gun back out from the back of his pants.
"Hey, Becca," he greets hurriedly, holding the gun against the link of the cuffs and both of us turn our faces away from it just as he pulls the trigger. My ears ring again, but it goes away quickly. "C'mon. Johnny has Brianna."
He grabs my hand, the cuffs still around my wrists and the small chain clinking, and takes off back into the hall and down one side of it. Brian has his back to us, a gun clasped in his hands as he looks around the corner of the wall, looking for anymore agents. He doesn't look at me as we start to move down the next hall.
We pass Tiffany's body - there's a bullet hole between her dead, open eyes.
Matt pulls us into a stairway and starts to the top of the building. My thighs and calves are burning.
"Where are we going?" I ask Matt, panting for breath after we've gone up four flights of stairs.
"Helicopter's on the roof. It's going to take you to a secluded airport and then fly you out to California."
"What about Brianna?"
Brian pauses at the top stair above us before opening the door that leads to the roof. It's now that I realize the sound of the blades on the helicopter cutting through the air. Neither Matt nor Brian answer me. Brian disappears as Matt helps me into the back passenger seating. I see Brianna already strapped in with Johnny beside her and a new face sitting across from her.
"Mommy!"
I barely hear her over the sound of the helicopter but I'm glad to see her ears are protected by a headset.
"Hey baby," I greet her back, although I doubt she even heard me. I couldn't even hear myself say it. Johnny smiles from beside her and hands me my own headset once I'm buckled in. I cover my ears and place the microphone to the side of my mouth. Matt closes the door I'm in and backs way from the helicopter, dialing a number into the pad of his cellphone. Brian has disappeared.
"ETA seven minutes."
I'm surprised when Brian's voice crackles over the head set. It's not until now that I can see his spikey black hair from over the cockpit pilot seat. He turns back to look at us, and for a moment our eyes connect. They hold the same cocky, better-than-you glimmer in them, and this makes the tension in my body relax away.
We're going to be fine. Brianna and I are going to be fine now that we're with Brian.
1/17/13