Page 54 of Crazy Love

My fingers twitch at the urge to throw another punch in his face, but I bite the inside of my cheek, scooping up my bag. I head towards the way we entered earlier, Patrick just ahead of me.

“You know, for the record,” Nathan sings out, and we turn to face him. He’s remarkably calm now that he’s been relieved of his binds. “I only gave Kali a little bit, but she didn’t need it. That slut would’ve opened her legs for me if you hadn’t come along.”

I hear Patrick sigh, “Fuck” as I swiftly cross the room and lunge at Nathan, reaching out my knife and slicing straight across the top of his left hand. A roar starts from his throat, but I slap my hand across his mouth, stifling it.

“Say that again and see what I slice through next,” I seethe.

Nathan’s eyes water, the vein in his forehead pulsating. A part of me wants to take little slices of him until he’s begging for mercy, make him experience fear and panic like he inflicted on those women.

“Anthony.” Patrick’s voice is a calm and steady reminder that we’re not here to go too far. That we have lives and people we care about. That was the main reason I asked him to come along. To make sure I didn’t lose control.

“Don’t make a fucking sound you piece of shit,” I spit, removing my hand.

Nathan gasps as I release him, clutching his hand to his chest. As much as I want to beat him to a pulp, I refrain. I march across the room to scoop up my bag, passing my brother and stepping out into the frigid night once again. Patrick follows me back to the car and it’s not until we’ve pulled out of the street that we both take several deep exhales.

“You need to get rid of that knife,” Patrick remarks quietly.

The remainder of the drive is in silence, our breaths gradually slowing to a point of normality by the time we arrive back home. Patrick kills the engine as we pull into the safety of the garage.

“You okay?” Patrick asks, staring straight ahead.

I nod. “Yeah.”

Surprisingly, I am. It’s not the first time I’ve lashed out violently at someone, but it’s the first time I don’t feel any sort of remorse about it. That piece of shit deserves so much worse than a punch to the face and a cut on the hand.

“Thank you,” I add. “For doing that with me. It won’t become a habit.”

Patrick gives me a small smile, unbuckling his seatbelt. “I know it won’t. You don’t need to explain, Anthony. Kali is important to me too.”

I smile back and we both climb out of the car and head inside.

We’ll never talk about this again, just like the other times. I’ll get rid of the evidence and clean the car, and Patrick will keep an eye on Nathan’s movements, but it’ll never come up again unless it has to, which it shouldn’t. We were careful, methodical and Patrick kept a clear head, saving us from any real problems. Nathan’s not going to blab about it either. He’s too much of a coward and we’ve got too much on him for him to risk it.

I grab an ice pack from the freezer and hold it against my raw knuckles, pulsating from the punch from earlier. Even if it turned out my hand was broken, it was worth it. Worth it to see the fear and to shake him up a bit. Worth it to know that he’s not going to be around to bother Kali anymore and will hopefully be smart enough to change his behaviour wherever he goes to next.

Tonight, was worth every ounce of risk and if I’m honest with myself, it was a wake-up call.

I would burn the world to protect Kali.

30

KALI

I’ve watchedthe footage from the studio camera four times now. It’s dangerous having instant access to this sort of stuff on my phone. It’s addictive.

The audio isn’t working, but I can tell from the repeated plays that Anthony accosted the three teenage boys and ultimately convinced them to clean off their graffiti. The boys seemed resigned to something Anthony said to them as they left. Whatever he did, it has me bouncing around the studio the next day. It’s a weight lifted off my shoulders.

When Hazel comes by to measure the space for the signage towards the end of the day, I show her the footage.

Hazel nods her approval once I stop the tape, opening her laptop to jot something down. “One hundred percent illegal, but impressive. Definitely a Bonetti.”

“Andlookat this new entryway.” I smile at the work of art that is my studio entrance.

Instead of walking straight into the studio once the roller door is lifted, visitors are greeted with a cute shopfront, complete with windows and a stained-glass door. I wanted clients to feel like they were walking into an oasis of the mind, and to be able to shut off from the noise outside without having to cage us in with the heavy roller door.

“Anthonymadethis,” I gush. “With his bare hands.”

Hazel smiles up at the frame. “He really is talented-”

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