Page 104 of The Fallen Man
“No, he doesn’t,” said Caitlin. “At best, he liked fucking Katie St. Cloud. Dating Caitlin Granger was not on his agenda and if it was, then fuck him.”
Dominique blinked and stepped back in shock. Caitlin took the opportunity to slam the door shut and lock it.
Caitlin leaned against the wall breathing hard. After a moment she heard Dominique’s retreating footsteps outside. She climbed the stairs and stopped at the top, staring at Jackson’s goddamn navy blue peacoat still hanging on coat rack.
Caitlin ignored it and went over to the couch and collapsed face first on to the cushions. There had been several points during the last few years where she couldn’t believe that this was her life now. But somehow this seemed like a new low even for her. She curled into a ball and pulled the blankets over her head. She didn’t even bother to pretend that she was going to watch TV or something normal. Instead, she stayed in her cocoon until she heard her phone beep with an alert from her room.
It was time to go get ready for work. Another stupid workplace Chirstmas party where Debbie from Accounting would get drunk and the managers would feel like it was OK to hit on the interns. Given her pick, she would have stayed home, but VAR was closed for most of the week between Christmas and New Year’s and Caitlin would lose hours. She needed to cram in all she could. The upcoming Roggario show would help a bit, but it wouldn’t be enough. Of course, there was really no such thing as enough. She was always in debt and one missed payment away from someone calling her about something.
Caitlin struggled off the couch and went toward her room, but her eye was once again drawn to Jackson’s coat on the rack. Itwas the only thing he’d ever left at her place. She picked it up and carried it into her room. She ought to burn it. Or donate it. She doubted she would do either of those. She would probably pay too much money to have Task Rabbit person take it back to wherever he lived. Something he’d never told her. Once again, if he’d had told her anything about his life, she might have figured it out earlier. Not that she’d asked him anything. She hadn’t wanted to know.
She pulled off her sweats and put on her work bra. Wide straps, good support, practical. That was what she needed out of life. She didn’t need a handsome bad-boy prince who crept into her bed and wrapped her up in dreams of everything working out alright. She looked at the coat again. Reluctantly she picked it up and held the collar to her nose. It still held traces of bergamot and citrus, and she found tears prickling the inside of her eyelids. Why had he done this to her? Did he hate the Granger family so much? She pulled the coat on, trying to pretend that the sleeves were his arms.
There was a sharp crack and Caitlin’s eyes flew open. Then a splintering sound and she heard her front door slam against the wall of the hall.
Caitlin ran out into the main room and saw two men charging up the stairs. She had barely a second to recognize the Russian who had been stalking her, his face still bruised where Jackson had hit him, before he grabbed her by the arm and threw her across the kitchen table. He grabbed her by the back of the head and held her against the rough wooden boards. On the far side of the table the ice bucket bounced and fell over, the ice pick inside jangling with a harsh clang.
“OK,” said the second man, leaning down to look her in the eye. He had sandy brown hair, that was carefully tousled but was wearing a bandana over his face. “Hi Caitlin. So, you’ve been avoiding my guy Baranov here and you don’t call us back. Andthen you have your piece of shit Ukrainian thug boyfriend get all aggro on him. That’s not cool. We don’t like that.” His voice was warm and friendly, but his gray eyes were cold.
“What do you want?” Caitlin gasped. The pressure on the back of her head increased.
The man laughed, the bandana puffing slightly at his exhalation. “Caitlin. Please. Stop pretending. We know that you got all your father’s things. You’re the only person he could possibly have sent anything to. We know you have the file.”
“What file?” Caitlin managed to get out. The only thing she had was a pile of bullshit paperwork that had arrived a week after her father’s death.
“Really, Caitlin, this is stupid. I would have paid you for it. You obviously could use the money. Or maybe not. I don’t know what your Ukrainian pays you. But now we have to do it the hard way. Now you’re going to give me what I want or Baranov is going to break a few things. Probably that you’re attached to. Or that are attached to you. I hear you’ve been doing some modeling. That’s going to be a little hard once he breaks your nose.”
“Sounds fun,” said Baranov, his voice a harsh grumble.
“See? This is why I pay him. He enjoys these kinds of things. I don’t. I just want results. Give me the file Caitlin. Give me the file and we go away.”
It was in the ottoman. All the papers that gave Caitlin a headache and made her sweat were inside the ottoman where she could lift the lid, throw them in, and never look at them again. It was her own personal portal to hell. That’s why she never looked inside it if she could help it, and she certainly never did more than glance at her father’s pile of shit.
“I don’t have anything,” said Caitlin.
“Fine,” said the guy in the bandana, he grabbed a chair and swung it at the floor, shattering the old wood and paint. Caitlin line flinched and let out a little scream, which made Baranovlaugh. Next the man, grabbed her tiny refrigerator and pulled it over, dumping the contents onto the floor. Left over boxes spilled out, their contents splattering.
“Next we’re going to start on you,” he said. The Russian’s hand on the back of her head moved down to the back of her neck and he picked her up, keeping one hand on her arm.
“Tell him where the papers are,” Baranov growled and shook her like a rag doll. Then he leaned in close, so that his breath tickled her ear. “After he leaves you and I are going to have some fun.”
“I can call him off,” said the bandana guy. “I can. Or not. I don’t really give a shit. What I want are my papers. Your father sent you papers, right?”
“Yes,” gasped Caitlin. “But they were garbage. They were just junk from Absolex.”
“Finally getting somewhere!”
Baranov let go of her arm and she felt his hand slide down to her thigh and then up to her ass, but the hand on the back of her neck was as firm as ever.
“That’s fine. They probably were. Your father was batshit insane toward the end. Just tell me where they are.”
Baranov gave her a shake and Caitlin stumbled forward, her hand coming to rest on the ice bucket.
“You are going to pay for what your boyfriend did,” Baranov grumbled.
Caitlin swallowed hard and flipped the lid off the ice bucket. The ice pick came tumbling out effortlessly into her hand.
“Where are my papers?” the man yelled, screaming it into her face.
