Page 113 of Rage

“But I already love it, Lara. Since the second I knew I was pregnant, I loved my baby. You don’t have the right to tell me to get rid of it!”

“I have the right to have a say in our relationship, in our marriage though?”

“You do, and… And if that’s the say you want, then I can’t…” She chokes on her own words, but she doesn’t need to say them. I can feel the pain of the choice in the silent tears flooding her cheeks.

“You’d really choose a fetus—arapist’sunborn baby—over everything we have? Over me?”

“If all you can find within you is to tell me to get rid of it, then yes. Yes, I would.”

“How?”

“Because I want to have the time to choose, Lara. And I need that grace from you. You know we’ve talked about it, this—this might be our one chance.”

“A chance given to us by the Devil?”

“But what if it isn’t? What if it’s a miracle instead? A moral dilemma, a lesson of how something good can come from such violence and evil deeds?”

Only she could find any good in this. Only my brave, beautiful, intense artist, free to think out of constraints of society; only she could turn this into something positive.

And I can’t help falling in love again. “Okay. We’ll think… We’ve got time.”

Days pass. Days of my Kathy drifting, faded out of life, the bold activism and bright smiles of her usual demeanor nowhere to be seen. And I decide—thinking isn’t enough for me. It isn’t enough to erase the hurt, to undo the damage he’s done to us both, to our relationship. The damage he’s done to her soul.

I need action. I need solace, to know that he isn’t going to do this again to another…

I need revenge. Solid, motherfucking, painfullysweetrevenge.

But the more days that pass with no resolution, no reprisal, the longer he walks free, the more I want to take things into my own hands. To the point that I even think about doing somethingreallyfucking stupid.

“Why have we not heard back from the cops? You gave them what they wanted. He can’t be allowed to get away with it, can he?”

“I… He already has, Lara.”

Kathy lays a pacifying hand on my arm, but I’m riled. To fuck. I don’t want to calm down right now.

“Well, he shouldn’t! He can’t, I won’t… I’m not gonna let him.”

“And what exactly do you think you’re going to do about it? About any of it? He works for the mayor, and you heard the cop. He didn’t care. This guy practically has immunity.” She regards me, wary gaze with pursed lips, hesitation etched in her very being for whatever plan I’m hatching.

And believe me, I’m trying. My every spare hour is spent challenging myself to figure out a way to find him, get close to him, even benearhim without him knowing who I am or what I’m standing ground for.

But I can’t. He’s too guarded, too closed off… And I’m too close to the problem to think straight anyway.

Until one night, driving home after my MMA class downtown, my eyes track across the frontage of an abandoned building.

It used to be a strip club, around a decade ago. That was before it was uncovered as a Mafia front for money laundering, drug smuggling and other unconstitutional activities, and was shut down by the Feds. But the rumors of corruption wentmuch deeper than the superficial arrests, right up through the government officials—right into the mayor’s office itself.

But Kath and I? Well, let’s just say we know a certain someone who used to work there.

The guy in question is one I know she’s kept in touch with, even though I’ve made it quite clear over the years that I’d rather have nothing to do with him myself. To give him his due though, he’s always been supportive of her career, even commissioning art pieces from her and paying over the odds for them.

On the other hand, he’s always been an asshole to me, is an absolutely inappropriate pervert and completely self-absorbed most of the time. It’s not ideal, and of course I wouldn’t generally advocate consorting with criminal types in any way, but—in this kind of case? It’s all aboutwhoyou know.

It’s not common knowledge, I guess, but Kathy and I have known Lockey for a long time. Way before he got in too deep with the wrong people and ended up serving a sentence for fraud. Even if we happen to know it was more than that. So, I know for a fact; he’s someone who can probably help us to get to this disgusting excuse for a human, and I will have to just hope against hope that he probably still knows some people.

People that won’t let assholes like this get away with things like violently assaulting my wife.

I don’t like it, but I will take fucking anything to help us get to this little motherfucker. Even if that means working with someone I can’t abide.

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