Page 10 of Little Fury

“Ha-ha-ha, fair enough, boss. Everyone is on their way, and we will see you soon. Check the server from now on, as that's how we will update for the next little while. Be safe, Boss.”Ben says to me and hangs up.

I drive for a few more hours, replaying those early days with Marcus. Looking for those moments that signalled the changes in our bond. I dial a number and hear him answer.

“Was my parents’ accident an accident?”

“I don't know, Ava. I personally think it wasn't, but I can't say for sure.”

“So, they set up a trust fund for me just in case? Not because they knew I’d be alone soon?”

“The trust fund and their will, how it was all set up, was part of the adoption contract with your birth family. I can show you that contract if you want, but you know everything it says.”

“How did I miss it, Harry? How did I miss him plotting my death?”I ask him.

“Did you miss it? You managed to escape, and you had multiple exit strategies in place.”

“Harry, all those things were because of you. You trained that shit into my head. You’re aggressive, ‘always be prepared motto’lives in my head rent-free.

“Even with all my training and the big IQ, I still didn't see Marcus for what he was. I didn't see when he changed. Or maybe he didn't change? Maybe I always just saw what I needed to see when it came to him. I needed him to be just like me, to be the other half of myself.”He doesn’t answer me right away, choosing his words carefully.

“Aye, Little Fury, he always was what he is,”Harry tells me.“You two met, and both of you saw the broken in the other. You loved him, and he loved you. Don’t ever doubtthat, Ava. But Marcus’s love was warped before he ever met you. His daddy messed him up in ways you don’t ever heal from.”

“I have those types of wounds, Harry,”I sayquietly.

“You do. But you, Ava, are uniquely equipped to deal with it. Your ability to compartmentalize, to look at and judge people and things logically without emotion, is not something Marcus possesses.”Harry pauses again, having another swig of his beer.“As you got older and training progressed, it was obvious to everyone what you were. What you would be capable of. I may have balked at you coming here when you were young, but Ava, there is no denying that if anyone was made for this life, it was you. Marcus is not stupid. Intentionally or not, he recognized how valuable you were and never let you go. He saw what everyone else saw. He was made. He would be handed the power whether he deserved it or not. He, like his mother, was mafia royalty.”

“So what? He decided I was more trouble than I was worth now?”

“No, I think you two made choices that irrevocably changed the parameters of your relationship, and while you were able to maintain the friendship by letting the past be the past, he wasn’t. I think for that boy, you will never be his past. Only his right now and his future. I think at some point, his love became obsessive and toxic, and you always just accepted what he was offering and worked around it. I think, like always, you felt your love for him and your history with him were worth any pain and discomfort because he was worth everything to you.”

“So how does that end up with me here? Shot and running for my life?”

“Ava, ego, power, drugs, money, and childhood trauma shaped Marcus. I think his fate was already sealed before you two found each other. You were the only reason he made it aslong as he did before he became no better than his father.”The weight of his words hangs in the air. It feels like some Shakespearean tragedy like we were doomed before we started.

“Thanks, Harry; I should pay attention to the drive. Talk soon,”I say with an exhaustion I didn't know I could feel.

“Be safe, Little Fury,”Harry says, disconnecting the call.

Silence comes over the car, and I instantly hit my music to start.“Africa”by Toto fills the cab. That was way too many memories and feelings to process in the last hour, and silence would only welcome more thinking, and I was not in the mood for it.It's fine! You can deal with all that emotional shit when you have the well-deserved mental breakdown you can see looming on the horizon.That is always a much more fun way to deal with things.

Hotels sprinkle the highway as I drive. I arbitrarily choose one to spend the night at. I need food and sleep. I pull into the hotel lot and go inside to rent a room for the night. The hotel is just like all the others on the highway. It’s small, clean and has a 24-hour diner attached. I go up to the desk and ask for a room for the night. The clerk smiles at me and asks for my identification. I reach into my pocket and grab my ID. The clerk takes it and enters all my info into the computer. He hands me back my driver’s licence.

“Thank you, Miss Blake. How would you like to pay?”

He asks me,

“Cash, please,”I say, handing over a few bills. He takes them, gives me back my change, hands me my key card,

“You are in room 227. If you drive down to the end of this side of the building, that door is the closest to your room. The stairs are right there for you. I hope you enjoy your stay withus, Miss Blake.”

I move my truck closer to the door at the end of the building and grab my stolen goodies and one of the bags of clothes from my unit. Making my way inside, I find the stairs waiting for me, and I flip them off as I begin to climb the one flight up. I’m in my room about 2 minutes later. All I want to do is fall into bed, but I have things to do before sleep gets to claim me.

Dropping my bags on the dresser and suitcase stand. I take my phone, key card and laptop and make my way back out into the hallway. Some of the most hideous carpeting designed for the sole purpose of masking all sorts of sins that land upon it greets me. The hallways have that thick ribbed wallpaper, the same generic wall art, and white sconces as all the others. It's nondescript, just like every other hotel along this highway.

Stepping into the diner, I happily seat myself in a booth at the back of the restaurant. I sit in the teal-coloured booth and look down at the chipped Formica on the table. The diner is the only non-generic thing about the hotel. It’s an era-themed diner. Not the 50s or 60s, not even the wonderful neon days of the 80s. No, I’m sitting in a diner that boasts its love for the 90’s. Being born at the turn of the century, I heard my fair share of 90’s music thanks to having a mom who was a 90’s kid. So, seeing the posters on the walls of bands like Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Audioslave, and Alice in Chains, as well as the plethora of one-hit wonders the 90’s produced like Natalie Imbruglia, the Proclaimers, Aqua and Sixpence None the Richer, I can’t help but think of her. Hear her singing horribly to all those songs and bands.“One Headlight"by Jacob Dylan is playing over the speakers.

Ignore it, Ava, pick up the freaking menu and decide on your dinner. The faster you eat, the sooner you will be in that shower and then unconscious in that bed.

I really do give myself the best advice. LOL. Is it odd to say theletters L O L when I talk to myself? I feel like it’s a little weird. I audibly sigh, annoyed that no one hears just how funny I am.At the same time being grateful nobody can hear those thoughts.

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