A Jar of Hearts (4 page)

She stomped out of the house, kicking the glass fragments aside on her way out. James rolled his eyes and walked over to get his vacuum cleaner. In his desperation to forget Anne, Avanna was the one thing he screwed up in a big way. The question was how to get Avanna off his cock without her running off to Juan and crying about him. Because saying no to Juan’s only baby sister was certainly not working at all.

James followed the mini-bus jiggling two cars away. It was filled with Pacheco gang members dressed as common laborers in their checked shirts pretending to visit relatives in Mexico. He casually watched the traffic cue on the way to the Tijuana border control checkpoint.

He leaned his elbow on his window, nipping at the flesh of his finger in deep thought. The urge to tip the officers about a busload of gangsters going on a trip to learn how to work military arms was tempting. But it would gain him nothing except reveal his hidden identity. The men had ensured they hadn’t carried anything illegal on the bus. Not even their coveted drugs. Their guns would be delivered to them a mile after the Mexican border control checkpoint by their ally gang, the Arturo Brotherhood.

He shifted his car into gear. He would have to trust Mark and play along with the Pachecos at the ranch. And he could only pray things wouldn’t get out of hand when they returned to home soil again.

The men beat the sides of the bus, screaming with excitement as they entered the gates of the ranch. Dust from the road clouded the bus as it drove towards its destination, but the gangsters didn’t care as they dangled half their bodies out of their windows, waving at their equally excited allies in the distance.

As soon as the bus stopped, the men jumped off it through both the door and the windows, eagerly racing over to their Mexican brothers and greeting them noisily. James parked his car alongside the bus. He stepped out of it but didn’t venture too far, preferring to lean against his car to watch them. Their affections lasted a while until a man walked into their circle. He stood apart from them, tall and muscularly built.

“Alright, boys, enough with the touching hugs and kisses,” he boomed loudly. “It’s time we get on to business. My name is Brett Johnson. I am an ex-Navy Seal and I can pretty much adapt anything to use as a weapon. So don’t try and fuck with me or I might mistakenly shove a bullet up your bunghole. And trust me; you don’t want me doing that. Now… you’re all here because you want to master the art of using a proper gun. And I don’t mean a Glock 19 lady gun that you men carry at the moment. I’m talking about bad asses like the M11 or the P228. So if you think you can’t handle any of these, I suggest you excuse yourself politely. I don’t like people wasting my time. The rest of you follow me.”

The sky had darkened and the air still reeked of gunpowder from their day long of shooting practice. Brett stepped around the corner of a shed and pulled onto a man’s collar, dragging him out as he clenched his teeth. The man pleaded and cried, begging for his life.

“What do you think you’re doing?! I told you I don’t want any crackheads handling my guns!” Brett screamed with anger.

“I’m sorry… I swear it was only a sniff,” the man wailed.

Brett pulled out his handgun and pointed it at the man’s head. Another man scrambled up to him, trying to calm him down.

“Come on, Brett,” he cajoled. “He said it was only a sniff.”

Brett turned and pointed his gun at him instead. “I gave you strict instructions to avoid the addicts. Look at him, José! He’s a fucking beamer! He’s wasted!”

“I know.” José licked his lips nervously.  “Let me talk to him. I’ll make sure he doesn’t do it again.”

“It’s too late,” Brett whispered. He aimed it back at the addict and pulled the trigger, shooting him blankly in his head. Pieces of his skull splattered onto the dirt floor as the man fell down face forwards.

José cried, stomping his feet in rage. “What the fuck,
ése
?! You just shattered the brains of one of our best pushers!”

“At the rate he was going, he would have been dead soon anyway.” Brett tucked his gun back into his holster. “He seemed he was bagging more than he was pushing. Besides, he wouldn’t have been able to handle hardware like these. He was too fucked up in the head to use them right.”

“Juan isn’t going to like this.” José shook his head in frustration.

“Juan knows what my requirements entail. This is your fault, José. Next time screen the recruits carefully before you bring them to my camp,” Brett warned.

James stuffed a piece of chicken into his mouth casually as he watched Brett’s fury unleash on the surprised and now dead addict. He shifted in his chair when he realized Brett was coming towards him.

“Fucking dope fiend,” Brett swore under his breath as he pulled up a chair beside James.

“Was it necessary to kill him?” James asked, leaning back into his chair.

“To set an example to the rest- hell yeah. We’re talking heavy machinery here. You’ve got to be right in the head to use them proper.”

“You have a lot of respect for your weapons.”

“You have to respect them. They can either kill you or save you. There’s a fine line between life and death when someone has his finger on a trigger. And powerful weapons such as these could fuck up the neighborhood if they get into the wrong hands. At the end of the day, this is just business. We want our money and we want to go home. Raging war against the law doesn’t help our business, does it?”

“We just want an upper-hand on the other gangs,” James added slowly.

Brett nodded as he filled his plate with food. “Exactly.”

James watched the man settle down to eat. He had principles and James was always a sucker for principles. It was what had got him on the run two years ago when he had met Anne.

“Tell me… what got you here?” he asked carefully. He was curious to know what had downgraded a respected frogman to a toad.

“Why I don’t honor our country and all that patriotic shit?” he said between large bites of his food. “I could ask my country the same too.” He paused for a minute, chewing his food in silence. “I was fucked when I resigned from the Navy. I had not stayed the official retirement of a twenty year service. I fell short four years. Truth of the matter was I couldn’t take it anymore. The war… the killings… I had seen enough. But when I decided to leave, I risked my pension too. I was suffering from my PTSD and my family suffered because of me. It wouldn’t have taken much for anyone to predict my wife and children would leave me while I would be on the streets drowning myself in another bottle of liquor. One day, I met Juan. I was there getting smashed at a club as usual. He pulled me aside and we just got talking. He knew I was a veteran and he offered me a chance to pick myself up again.” He sighed and sat up. “I had to finally face that I needed the money. The gang offered me a life and respect I wouldn’t have got otherwise.”

James grew quiet. In the normal world, Brett would have been labeled as having mental issues. And for a man who prided himself on being strong and not dependent on anyone’s help, such a label would have been devastating on his esteem. Juan had used Brett’s wish to be respected again as a lure into joining The Pachecos. The gang would respect him and that in turn would fill that void inside him, making him fiercely loyal as well.

He picked up his handgun and fiddled with the grip panel. What about his void when he would finish with this operation? There was only one person who could help him and she lived two doors down from him. The trouble was; did he have the courage to walk up to her door and knock on it?

He walked over to his verandah, his hair still damp from his shower. He had arrived back from the weapons training relieved that they didn’t have an encounter with both Mexican rivals or border security. However, the thought that those men were marching through the streets freely with the knowledge on how to use military firearms still bothered him. The only alleviation he could get from this was that The Pachecos’ shipment of military weapons was still yet to be smuggled over to them. Perhaps, Mark would do something about that instead.

He leaned against his rails, looking out into the ocean, the roar of its waves still booming even in the dark. But the sweet melodic tunes of a violin pervaded through the crashing waves and he stood up, his ear straining for more of its enchanting music. Unable to hold his curiosity anymore, he stepped off his verandah and onto the beach. Like the children of Hamelin, he couldn’t help being hypnotized by the music of the violinist. He knew it had to be Anne because there was no one else who wielded such power over him.

He found her in the distance, her body swaying softly to the rhythm of her instrument. Her hair lifted delicately in the wind as her hand wielded her bow over the strings of her violin. At such a late hour, there were only a few people on the beach and she had relatively captivated the majority of them. She was clearly unaware of her small audience though as she continued to play magically amidst the roar of the ocean.

“That was beautiful,” said a man, strolling up to her.

“Nicholas?”

The man smiled. “Yes.”

James turned away immediately, pretending to be engrossed in the crashing of the angry waves. He had to make sure Nicholas hadn’t seen him and it would have been wise for him to move away. He found himself riveted to his spot though, unable to tear away from them.

“What are you doing here?” she said with a broad smile.

“First tell me what were you playing?”

“Did you like it?”

“Yes, and so did the small audience you managed to enamor on the sands.”

“I did?” she asked with a little surprise. “I didn’t think anyone would be out at such a late hour.” She sighed and added, “It’s called ‘Sad Romance.”

“By Ji PyeongKeyong? Isn’t it what they call Sad Violin as well?”

“It is.” She brushed a stray fringe back. “What are you doing here, Nicholas?”

“I had some business in San Diego and thought I’d drop by and see you. You’re not happy?” He frowned.

“Of course I am.” She smiled. “I just was hoping it wasn’t because my father had sent you here to check up on me.”

He put an arm around her shoulders and led her back to the house. “In truth, he did ask me to do that. But I am also here on business and I did want to see how you were doing in your new home. Is it okay if I did?”

She leaned into his torso. “Yes… thank you.”

James ran his hands through his hair, clutching the back of his head as he continued looking on towards the ocean. The small crowd had dispersed long ago and he was left all alone on the long stretch of sands in the dark.

He had been desperate for some confirmation and he finally got it. Anne was with Nicholas and he had no right to interfere into their relationship. He should forget her and leave her be. She had got on with her life and there couldn’t be a better partner for her than Nicholas.

He turned back towards his house. Perhaps he should be smart and move away. After all, who was he kidding? Anne was his weakness. And as long as he knew she was close enough to touch, he would always fold to her allure.

Nicholas helped Anne into a chair.

“You’re not going to hang about so you can watch over me, are you?” Anne said with cheeky smile. “I’ll swear I’ll get a restraining order if you do.”

He chuckled. “No, you don’t need to go that far. I’ll be in the city maybe a few days, of which most, you will be glad to know, will keep me busy. I just wanted to make sure I saw you first because I might not get the time to do so later,” he added softly.

Anne played nervously with her fingers. “Where is Julia?” she asked, trying to divert the uneasiness he was causing in her.

“She’s gone to bed and so has Ashley. It is late after all.”

“It’s only nine o’clock.”

“I guess Julia was just trying to give us some time alone,” he muttered.

She felt him go down on his knees and sit by her lap. She tensed, wondering what it was he was doing.

“Anne, I-” he started.

“Don’t,” she interrupted quickly.

“Anne?”

“We’ve become such good friends, Nicholas. Please don’t say anything to change that.”

“I have to try.” His voice quavered. “I love you.”

“Nicholas.” She clutched his hand, her eyes welling up from the pain inside her. He was her friend and she was going to hurt him.  She bit her trembling lips. How could she do it? “I need some time,” she breathed out at last.

He kissed her hand and nodded. She felt her heart grow heavy inside her. She knew she would never able to love him back the way he wanted her to. He was the one man who had stood by her since Eric had left her and she felt guilty for not being able to give him the gift of her love in return for all he had done for her.