The Galleria by Alexander Michael

Author:Alexander Michael [Michael, Alexander]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-01-01T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER VII

~THE TOWER~

Dean had fled Catherine’s house in case she decided to banish him. He had been a complete fool. Letting the emotion burst out of him like that? What if she never let him come back? He could hardly blame her.

But that feeling was still here, still permeating around them all. He knew it. He wasn’t crazy! The priest in corrections said he was right. Who was he to argue?

Who was he kidding? His visit to the love of his life had been a complete failure. So what was the next step?

This bar, of course. This glass of whiskey. Shit, it had been a few years since he’d tasted alcohol. It was sure to go to his head like a waif at a wine contest. The bartender was watching him. Maybe this bearded fuck was a brother. A brother from corrections. They said you could tell the look.

“I’d like another one,” he said to the bearded giant.

His dead eyes went from Dean’s to the still full glass in front of him. “Still full.”

“I know it is. I want another one. I want two.”

His dead eyes went from the still full glass to Dean’s eyes. “’Kay.”

Now there were two, both sweating, their contents shimmering. One for each precious thing in his life. His hands played with them for a while. The sound of the ice was pleasing. Like the sound of the wind through the daisies at Catherine’s house. Like the sound of Bianca laughing. It was time. He lifted his eyes –

The mirror behind the bar showed him Catherine, eyes fat and bloated, flies seeking her filth.

The stool fell beneath him. He gripped the bar and screamed.

She swung like a pendulum. Her mouth lolled open. There was blood on her pale naked torso.

Bianca cried and screamed and screamed and cried in a pile of tears under red skies.

“Hey!”

Dean tore his eyes from the glass. The bartender was pointing at him, those dead eyes awake. Both glasses of whiskey were on the floor. He saw his own face in their reflective mess. “Get out, mate. No lunatics here.”

His family was in trouble. He knew it. He knew it beyond anything.

Dean left in a hurry.

He had no car, so he called one of his friends on the payphone just outside the bar. It was Jesse.

Why the hell couldn’t his ex just let him help?

His men had subtly been keeping an eye on Catherine. They had seen nothing out of the ordinary and were surely ready to pack it in. But Dean’s call would now set a fire under their feet and bring alertness back to their eyes. He waited outside the bar. His only goal now was to reconcile with Catherine, the girl he loved.

His escort arrived. Dean leapt into the front passenger seat. “My wife’s house, now!” he cried, and off they went.

His attention was drawn to his comrade’s incessant sniffing.

“Jesus, you’re not high right now, are you?”

“Just had a little bump beforehand to get in the game,” Jesse sniffed.

Dread wedged itself into Dean’s belly.

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