“Of course,” Lucy answered. “But Grant needs...”
“There was a doctor...” he started talking over her. He looked off to the corner, and then shook off some floating memory and looked back to her. “She took my leg and just chopped it right off in the middle of the DiCarlo’s living room. You know them right?” Lucy nodded. “The leg is probably still there. My leg. And I didn’t have this contraption, so I was entirely dependent on these strangers to care for me. Which they did. The entire time.”
“I’m sorry—”
“No,” Ethan interrupted. He stared at the counter. “That’s just the thing, Lucy. You’re sorry for all the wrong reasons.”
Alfonso Soriano of the Yankees had hit a home run. Lucy watched him running the bases on the small TV screen, the other players crawling out of the dugout to greet him, and the Arizona fans remaining stoic as the Yankees took the lead. Ethan leaned over and flipped the screen off. The baseball game shriveled up and went black.
“I screwed up, I know. You don’t know how truly sorry I am. Please. I’m not sorry for the wrong reasons...I’m sorry for everything,” Lucy said with sincerity. She took her free hand and put it on top of Ethan’s hand; it was cold and clammy. Grant stood by her side, unmoving. She could feel his arm against her back.
“They killed them, Lucy. Slaughtered the people who had done nothing but try and save me. They knew their lives were in danger, too. And I—” Ethan closed his eyes. “I should have run away where no one could find us. We all should have left. I was wrong...”
Grant’s leg was now bouncing up and down on the stool, he tapped his fingers on the counter and opened his mouth to say something, but then he changed his mind. His hand went to his pocket and he pulled out a folded up bag. Lucy looked at it, and turned back to Ethan.
“You don’t negotiate with these people, Lucy.”
“Grant has something for you...”
“Ethan,” Grant said, leaning across the counter.
“Our family isn’t the same,” Ethan replied to Lucy, ignoring Grant. “Some things you don’t get back. And it’s just...those people...who died...I cared about them.”
“I respect that this is a really tender brother-sister thing going on...” Grant continued, “and I’m sorry if this is rude...but Ethan, can you please listen to me?”
Lucy and Ethan turned to Grant, and Grant put the folded up airsickness bag on the counter and pushed his pointer finger down on the top, and slid it over to Ethan’s arm.
“From Ainsley,” Grant said quietly.
The bar went quiet. Or maybe it had been quiet before and none of them noticed. Someone at another table was watching a soccer game and the fans were chanting a series of oh oh oh ohs along with the heavy beat of a drum. The bartender, a dark man with a nametag that read EUS One: Chemist, ran a rag over a pint glass in slow, methodical circles.
“Oh,” Ethan whispered, his eyes narrowing. He took the bag and tucked it into his own pocket without reading it. “I...no...that’s not possible,” he mumbled. He kept his hand on his pocket, as if just feeling the note was enough.
“I didn’t read it,” Grant said quickly.
“Ainsley,” Lucy repeated. “Who’s Ainsley?”
“A girl,” Ethan said. He looked at Grant, “Is she—?”
Grant nodded once. And Ethan looked overcome with emotion. He popped himself up off the chair and wrapped his arms around Grant.
“Where?” was all Ethan whispered.
“The shore,” Grant replied. “With Darla...and my dad.”
Lucy’s mouth dropped open. “What?” She spun and looked between Grant and Ethan. “What? Are you serious? You waited to tell me all of that?”
“I’m sorry...” he replied, then he turned to Ethan. “Blair knows.”
Ethan stiffened. “Grant—”
“You can trust her. She wants to reunite Darla and Teddy. But...”
Several guards entered Nostalgia Sports, they scanned the bar top and paused when they saw Grant. Walking briskly toward them, Grant looked to see if there was anywhere to run, but they were trapped. Ethan stood up and stood between the guards and Grant. Lucy grabbed his hand. The men placed their hands on their guns and nodded to the bartender who nodded back then switched to drying another cup.
“Mr. King, Miss King,” they said. Then they turned to Grant. “Grant Trotter. Huck Truman has requested an audience with you in his office. Please follow us.”
“Is this optional?” Grant asked with a half-smile.
The men did not smile back.
“He doesn’t have to go with you,” Ethan replied and he crossed his arms.
“This is non-negotiable,” one of the guards said to Ethan. “Step aside, please.”
“No way. He’s not going,” Ethan said.
“Move aside.”
Ethan uncrossed his arms and took his pointer finger and poked it into the sternum of the guard closet to him. “I said he’s not going with you,” he hissed.
Without another word, the guard looked to his partner and then stepped back. Lucy gasped as the guard lifted his boot and took aim against Ethan’s prosthetic leg, kicking it squarely in the space just below where Ethan’s prosthetic began. The leg gave out underneath him and Ethan scrambled to hold on to something. He grabbed the upper part of the barstool and his limbs flew out around him.
“I’ll go!” Grant yelled, but Lucy clung to his hand. “I’m sorry, Lucy...I have to…”
“Don’t,” Lucy said. She turned to the guards, “I’m not letting him go. You can take it up with Huck if you want to, but I’m not letting go.” She stood firm and defiant, even though her heart beat ferociously.
“Lucy—” Grant said. He unwrapped her hand from his own and then he stopped and helped Ethan to his feet. “Ethan, if...”
“No,” Ethan said. He took a step forward toward the waiting guards, but this time the guard went for his weapon.
“Stand back, Mr. King,” the man said.
“Don’t let her do anything dangerous,” Grant said. “Please.”
“The Kings don’t like to be told what to do,” Ethan replied. He clasped his hand on Grant’s shoulder as Grant stepped in front of the guards.
“No!!” Lucy cried and she tried to go after him, but Ethan stopped her. He grabbed her around her shoulders and pulled her into him, hanging on to her as Grant was led away. She could feel the throbbing down to her elbows. “No! Don’t you dare hurt him!” she yelled again. It didn’t do any good. They walked off with Grant in tow, out into the hallway and out of sight.
The other bar patrons watched the spectacle unfold and then went back to their drinks. They busied themselves by staring at their TV screens.
“They’re going to kill him,” Lucy said to Ethan, tears welling up in her eyes. She started to march off again, but her brother grabbed her hand and held it firm. Lucy shook her head. “Ethan...listen to me...they are going to kill him! And I didn’t get to say goodbye. Ethan, they didn’t even let me say goodbye!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Huck pointed to a big and black concert grand piano, walked over to it, and ran his hand over the top of the open lid. It was the most majestic piece of musical equipment Grant had ever seen. It had an ebony gloss finish and the keys were achingly pristine.
“I hear you play,” the old man said to Grant.