Mr. 365 (23 page)

A moment later, Fred and his other son tear a crazed Will off Darrell. I blink in horror. Will looks like a savage all covered in blood. His expression is terrifying as he curses and fights them. He spies me holding Romeo.

“Get to safety. Get Romeo out of here!” he yells.

My heart feels like it’s going to explode out of my chest and my mind is a collision of thoughts and sounds: the fire snapping as it roars, Darrell groaning in agony, clanging metal, Fred cursing, a siren far in the distance. I’m overwhelmed with conflicting instincts to protect both Will and Romeo at any cost.

Darrell sees me and he pushes himself up while his father and brother are having a go at Will.

I realize as I glare back that the sirens are getting louder, and I sigh with relief.

Darrell stands on shaky legs and turns to the Will mêlée. He stumbles behind Will and surprises him with a neck lock. Fred takes a swing and guts Will in the stomach.

Darrell snaps something at his brother and nods toward me.

“She’s got his fucking dog; go break the little bastard’s neck. That’ll show this fucker.”

The brother instantly takes off toward me.

“No!” I scream and run toward the driveway, clutching Romeo to my chest. If I run toward the house, I’ll be cornered, so I make the only choice left. I run down the middle of the street in the direction of the approaching sirens.

The brother runs after me and is gaining ground. I glance behind me. I see a flash of silver out of the corner of my eye and reach deep inside to sprint faster. He’s close—so close I can hear the swish of his pants as he runs and can almost feel him reaching me. I imagine his fingers grazing the ends of my hair, and dread surges through my body. A second later there’s an explosive crash behind me and the sharp smack of something hitting the pavement.

I look behind me, and I skid to a stop. The brother is sprawled like a rag doll across the pavement. He’s out cold. I turn around, still clinging to Romeo.
What happened?
He probably has a head injury if that smacking sound was his head hitting the unforgiving surface. But what’s more startling is the sight of Hank shaking and clinging to his shopping cart. His eyes are wide and his mouth agape as if he’s just realizing what he’s done.

He points a shaking finger at the flattened man. “He was trying to hurt you,” he says as if he needs to explain his actions.

Just then a fire truck rounds the corner. It barrels right up to the house with no hesitation. The flames in front are a beacon, directing the truck to Will’s home.

Thank God, there’s help now for Will too.

Gasping for breath, I start to crumble as the trauma of the night hits me. I look down at Romeo, so still in my arms, and cry out as the tears fall.

Hank’s expression turns to panic. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Miss Sophia. I had to stop him. You’re Will’s girl.”

My heartbreak sets in. “It’s okay, Hank. Truly. I can’t believe you were even around. How did you know?”

“The middle of the night is the best time to collect cans & bottles in this area since the trucks come early in the morning.” He looks down, refusing to make eye contact. “I was on the next block over and saw the flames. As I got closer I heard your scream.”

“Oh my God. I’m so grateful you were so close.”

“Me too.” He relaxes and smiles timidly.

“Thank you for saving us.” I give him a warm, grateful smile.

He straightens his stance and looks me in the eyes. “I’m just glad I could.”

I study the unconscious man on the side of the road. “You should go. I’m the only one who saw you, and let’s just say…I didn’t see what happened since I kept running.” I wait, hoping Hank gets my drift.

He eyes the injured man and his shoulders curl in and his eyes dart toward the fire trucks. Yes, I must go. If they arrest me, Miss Sophia…”

“Go,” I say, nodding in a direction that takes him away from the house. I wait until he’s disappeared into the shadows.

Romeo’s breathing is labored. “Come on, Romeo. Help is here,” I whisper. I hurry back, scared to see what shape Will is in.

“Please, please,” I chant to myself. “Please let him be okay.”

The police pull up just before I get to the front gate. I’m relieved that three of the firemen have pulled the fighting men apart while the others deal with the fire. Will’s cursing still, his eyes narrow and full of fury. He’s pretty battered up, but at least still in one piece.

When he sees me still holding Romeo, he furrows his brow, scans the two of us, and then turns to look in the direction I came from. I realize I’m breathing in gasps as I wipe my tears from my face.

As soon as the police intervene, the men start yelling.

“He tried to kill me!” Darrell yells, pointing at Will.

“And you fucked us over, did that TV crap and didn’t pay us!” Fred yells, his face redder than normal.

“You set my house on fire and tried to kill my dog, you bastard!” Will roars back.

Fred looks around frantically once he sees me. “Where’s George?” he yells.

I step up to the policeman and point to George. The policeman immediately radios for an ambulance and backup.

The firemen have put out the blaze, leaving the smell of smoke and charred wood wafting around us.

“Are you okay? What about Romeo?” Will calls through the chaos, an urgency in his voice.

“I’m fine, but we need to get him to the vet hospital.”

A minute later the ambulance and the police backup show up. The scene becomes even more intense and chaotic as Will, Fred, and Darrell are all apprehended and George is loaded in the ambulance. Meanwhile one of the policemen questions me about the events and asks what happened with Romeo. He gets the information for Romeo’s vet from Will and calls ahead to alert them.

The police decide to take everyone to the station for questioning and to file charges with one of the cars escorting me to the animal hospital.

They’re about to load Will into the backseat of one of the squad cars when I rush over. I realize we haven’t had a moment since this crisis started. One minute we’re peacefully sleeping in each other’s arms and the next, being questioned by the police. I rest my hand on his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry for all of this, Will,” I say softly.

“Me too. I think I’m in shock.” His face is twisted in pain as he gently cradles Romeo’s head in his hands. He looks up with the saddest eyes. “Please, baby, get word to me that he’s going to be okay. Please.”

My heart skips. “What do you mean,
get word to you
? I’m meeting you guys at the station for the questioning.”

He shakes his head and lets it drop. “This isn’t good, Sophia. I’m just saying, I’m not sure how all of this is going to go down.”

The change is almost instant. It’s as if a thin suit of armor, like the ones in futuristic sci-fi films, slides over his skin. I can see him toughening up right before my eyes, morphing him into the street kid of his youth.

He grits his teeth and his voice is rough. “I don’t want you to see me like this.” He grimaces and looks away. “I’m screwed.”

“But none of this is your fault. They did this!”

He shakes his head, defeated. “Doesn’t matter. No one ever said life was fair.”

I feel the final piece of his armor lock in place as the policeman pulls him away.

As the hours pass during the night that never ends, a deep feeling of remorse takes shape in me, twisting and turning until I’m completely saturated with it. This is all my fault. If I’d never coerced Will to do the show, none of this would’ve happened.

Romeo is in intensive care with something called pneumothorax because one of his broken ribs tore a small hole in his right lung. The vet informs me it’s very serious but assures me that Romeo’s one of the toughest dogs he’s seen. He has a fighting chance. I cling onto hope, as I can’t imagine what it’ll do to Will if his little guy doesn’t pull through.

At the station, the questioning and confusion drones on and on. As Will warned me, he’s in a really bad position since Fred and Darrell are pressing charges against him and the savage nature of his attack on Darrell only makes things worse. As a result, he’s arrested and held overnight.

Darrell earns a similar fate for the arson crime and attack on Romeo. By four in the morning, Fred is allowed to leave to go be with George at the hospital. They’ve received word that he’s conscious now, but they’re keeping him for observation.

The desk sergeant insists I go home and get a couple of hours of rest. I linger for a while, feeling horrible about leaving Will, but finally agree. I can get help for him first thing in the morning.

I get into my car and the illuminated clock on my dashboard screams five twenty-two. I count the hours back in my head. Seven hours ago my world was right. Will’s enchanted house made me believe my life was a fairy tale with my dashing prince and his faithful dog. If someone were writing my life story that section would be written in pink with little hearts doodled in the margins.

Will has changed my world in so many ways. Until tonight our future was destined to be an endless strand of Christmas lights burning brightly in the darkness.

I turn on the ignition and shiver from the cold night air. Could things be bleaker? As I pull out of the parking lot I pause, not knowing where to go. Will’s or my place? Or perhaps I should go to church and pray for our world to right itself now that everything’s been turned upside down.

W
hen my alarm goes off at eight in the morning, I want to hurl it against the wall. I feel disoriented and shaky as I sit up and try to get my bearings. I barely remember changing into my pj’s and crawling into bed after the night from hell.

I stumble into the kitchen and start a pot of coffee. After finding my cell phone, I sit down to make a few calls. I’m on my fifth call before I finally get True Blue’s attorney, Martin Rasner, on the phone.

“You spent the night at the police station with the client?” he asks, sounding very concerned. “Can you explain why you were with him that late in the first place?”

Flustered, I get defensive. “We were making plans for the… next shoot,” I stutter. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“Oh, that’s very convincing, Sophia. Late night planning meetings with young male subjects are always such a good idea,” Martin says dryly.

“Martin, we need to get him out of jail this morning at nine, on the dot,” I snap.

“Sophia, if he beat the crap out of his neighbor and ended up being locked up, why is that our problem? He sounds like a big boy—all grown up. He can figure it out on his own. I don’t want us any more involved than we already are.”

“Let me be clear. His neighbors attacked him because they had been promised money from us for the inconvenience from the shoot, and we hadn’t paid them yet, so they were enraged,” I say finally feeling sharp and awake.

“They hadn’t been paid yet? The paperwork wasn’t signed?” he asks, his voice now on edge.

“No, they hadn’t… And no, it wasn’t. It’s a long story, but regardless; this is what set them off. So, as you can see, we need to step up and do the right thing.”

“Damn it! This has lawsuit written all over it. You’ve spent time with him. Do you sense that he’s litigious?”

I pause for a moment. In my heart I’m certain Will isn’t that way, but right now I need everyone doing whatever they can to help him.

“Oh, yeah. I’d worry about it. The last thing he said before they cuffed him and dragged him off was that we’d be hearing from his lawyers.” I lie, telling tell him what he needs to hear to take action.

“Fuck!” Martin swears. “Okay, I’ll meet you at the station at nine sharp.”

I tap my foot while Martin signs Will’s paperwork at the release desk. I want to check the time but I forgot to put my watch back on in my rush to get to the station. My stomach’s churning as I try to imagine what mood Will might be in when they get him out.

I study the desk clerk and realize that there must have been a shift change. No one looks familiar, and the entire night now has a dreamlike quality—well, more nightmare than dream. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and listen to the low drone of the fluorescent lights. When I open my eyes again, everything has a sickly yellow-green cast. It’s that very light Will walks under when he’s finally escorted to the waiting area.