Chapter 16
Dean
Man must evolve, for all human conflict,
A method which rejects revenge, aggression, and retaliation.
A foundation for such a method is love.
Martin Luther King, Jr.
When I heard her at the door, all my muscles tensed. I was working out, giving that punching bag all I had. Trying to ease the tension from this morning was working. With every punch, I felt more focused, more determined. Then I heard her. She was at the fucking door and could have blown everything if she had turned that handle. Luckily, Humphrey was on the ball and managed to catch her before it was too late.
Then she was gone. My uncle had managed to get her out of sight. Out of sight, out of mind. I could get back to working out. It just meant I had to start my regime all over again. I needed to punch until my lungs ran out of air. I needed to carry on until all my muscles cried out in pain. I had to rid myself of the memory of her from last night. The way she felt when I was inside her. The way her hair caressed my arm so gently that it made my body shudder. I didn’t want her affecting me that way, but it seemed she was just as fucking toxic as she was thirteen years ago. She was seeping into my pores, entering my head, and the last thing I needed was for her to think she had a way into my heart. She would only find coldness there. The ice there would sting her. For her, it would be unbearable to the touch. I was not a nice man. I didn’t do relationships. I wasn’t the lovey-dovey, make-yourself-sick-to-the-stomach cuddly kind of guy. I could have been once. I could have given everything to Tyler if she had let me. Not now, though. Not after what she did. I toughened myself up. I had to. After what happened all those years ago, I had no other choice.
“Dean, I don’t think it was a good idea letting her come here.” Humphrey stood there, tall and straight. Although he was in his late fifties, he was surprisingly sturdier then he seemed. He was tall, just a couple of inches shorter than me. His hair was greying and he sported a little moustache which curved up at the edges. He reminded me of Terry-Thomas because he looked just like him. Of course, Humphrey realised that and got annoyed when I’d call him by that name. He got even angrier when I called him an old man. He called me names, too, so I guess we’re even on that score.
All dressed up, he looked every bit the part he played. It was Humphrey who suggested he play the butler. He had been a constant presence, especially in the last thirteen years. I owed him a lot. The only problem was he did take his role here a little too seriously. He even joked at times and called me Master Wayne. I was no superhero, though. I was the villain, and my nemesis was Tyler.
“It was necessary, Humphrey. I needed her to feel comfortable.”
“By pretending you were someone else so you could fuck her? I don’t think that would be a very comforting thought.”
I stopped punching and looked at Humphrey. “If I would have gone to her in her own room at her own home, she would have freaked. I had to make sure she was ready for me. By tonight, she’ll know who entered her room last night. I’ll make fucking sure of it.”
I carried on punching and Humphrey left me alone. He knew I didn’t like being disturbed when I was down there.
After another half-hour, I was done. My muscles were burning, my breath was coming in short bursts. I stood in front of my mirror, studying my frame. I was built for this sport. Built for any fucking shit who wanted to cross me. And many had wanted to cross me. If I learned anything in life, it was that having money attracted unwanted attention. Especially when it involved some lowlife from my father’s past who had lost everything and thought he could come to me to take what the fuck he wanted. I wasn’t a fucking charity, and I wasn’t a fucking pushover.
Unwinding the tape from my hands, I watched as the tattoo of a lotus flower danced on my shoulder. It was the second tattoo I had ever gotten. I’d gotten several since, but the first one I will always remember for reasons which now make me sick. I was only eighteen when I had it done, getting piss-assed drunk before I went in. I might be tough, but I have never been a fan of needles. Call it my one weakness. The only thing was I couldn’t afford to be weak. That was why I went back several times and got several more tattoos. I needed to break myself of that one fucking phobia. That way, nobody could get to me. I was invincible.
*****
A little after midnight, I knew it was time to get going. Tyler, if I knew anything about her, would be sound asleep in her bed. She was like clockwork—a little bit too predictable.
Once I got to her car park, I smiled. I didn’t think she had been anywhere today, but her car was pulled, just like it always was, into the space. I had to break her out of that habit. If you were ever in an emergency, getting away as quickly as you could was paramount. Trying to get away as quickly as possible in a car that wasn’t backed into the space was impossible. Trying to shuffle your way out just wasted too much time. Call me a little OCD, but that was me. It was just common sense.