Andrew Gross: Reckless

This isn’t the first one. No one’s been hurt so far.

“Where?” the one with the gun demanded.

“Downstairs. In the study. I’ll show you. Look, we haven’t seen your faces. We don’t know who you are. Just take what you want and let us go, okay?”

“Show me.” The man with the gun grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up.

That was when, to both their horror, the bedroom door opened again and their daughter, Becca, half-asleep, wearing a baby-blue Greenwich High sweatshirt and rubbing her eyes, wandered in. “What’s going on, guys…?”

Before she could even let out a scream, the second intruder grabbed her and covered her mouth.

“Please don’t hurt her!” Marc begged, seeing his daughter’s face turn white with alarm. “She’s just a kid…”

Eyes wide, April struggled against her binds, trying to go to her. Oh, baby, no, no…

Becca tore the man’s hand away. “Mom!”

They watched, unable to do a thing, as the second intruder wrapped the tape around Becca’s mouth and roughly bound her hands. Her uncomprehending eyes were round with fear.

“Throw ’em in there,” the man with the gun directed his accomplice, pointing to the master closet. Becca, who had always had a fear of small spaces, twisted her head back and forth, trying to resist. Unheeding, the accomplice shoved the two of them in. April fell to the floor, twisting against her binds. Don’t do anything foolish, she tried to say to Marc, desperation in her eyes. Just give them what they want. Please…

They shut off the lights in the closet and closed the door.

Her daughter let out muffled screams, writhing against April in the dark. All April could do was huddle as close as she could, trying to convey with all her strength that everything would be okay. Just stay calm, baby. They’re only here for money. They’re going to leave and this will all be okay. Daddy will come get us. I promise, honey, please…

Tears glistened in her teenage daughter’s eyes. April put her head against hers, trying to transfer all her conviction and strength, and she began to think, Her hair is so soft and she smells so pure, my little girl…Now she’ll remember this the rest of her life. You bastards. You’ve stolen the innocence from her. Her trust. Her thoughts flashed to Marc downstairs-Marc, please, just give them anything! Don’t do anything heroic. Just let them go-and then to Evan, only seven, sleeping down the hall, her sweet little baby. Just sleep, honey, through it all. It’s going to be okay…Please, Evan, please. It’s-

That was when she heard the sound: two far-off pops, coming from downstairs.

April and Becca looked at each other. She’d heard it too. April’s heart began to leap with fear.

Marc.

Panicked, tears started to run down her cheeks. What did you do, Marc? What did you fucking do?

Suddenly, there were footsteps. Heavy ones, pounding back up the stairs. Becca squealed, her large eyes doubling in size. The whole house seemed to shake.

What did you do?

Desperately, April fought against her binds. She looked at her daughter. All she could do was simply press herself into her as tightly as she could, panic building in her daughter’s eyes.

My babies… April started to cry, her thoughts flashing to Evan as the approaching thuds entered the room. Oh my God, what’s going to happen to him, my poor little sleeping boy? Do whatever you have to do to me, but please, not him. Not to Becca.

The closet door flung open. Light burst into their eyes.

Not my babies, April tried to scream. She threw herself in front of Becca. Not them, not them… She stared back at the hooded faces with eyes that were both begging and defiant.

Please…

Remind me again,” Annie Fletcher asked, wiggling out of her navy U of Michigan T-shirt. “Why is it they always call it blue Monday?”

“No idea,” Hauck gasped, his breaths quickening, gulping in air.

She rocked above him, hands balanced against the rattling headboard, swaying in perfect rhythm to the thrust of his thighs. Annie’s body was small and light, but her breasts were full, and her short, dark hair fell over her face, still messy from sleep.

In the background, the newscaster on the early morning show announced brightly that it was going to be a clear and sunny day.

“Never gonna think that way again,” she said, starting to really heat up. Because of the demands of her restaurant and Hauck’s new job-not to mention her son, Jared, moving east with her and boarding five days a week at a nearby school for kids with special needs-they only got to see each other a couple of days a week, and so things tended to be very physical between them.

“Me either,” Hauck huffed, cupping her thighs, the rush of climax coming on.

They had been together for six months now-on and off, mostly on-Annie’s responsibilities at the restaurant clashing a bit with Hauck’s commitment to the new job. She didn’t push for more. He didn’t offer. Annie was trusting and open. It wasn’t so much a relationship as it was a loose, easy friendship-with benefits-what time would allow.

Their rhythm grew faster and faster. Sweat coated their skin. “Thought you had to get to the market…,” he said to her, feeling her breaths beginning to deepen and knowing she was only a few accelerating tremors from letting out.

“Damn arctic char are just gonna have to wait…”

The voice from the TV said stock futures were trending down again for the fourth day in a row.

But Hauck and Annie weren’t listening. Their IRAs could have been in total free fall and right now neither of them would have given a damn.

Finally, with a last gasp, Annie arched, stiffening, then fell back onto him, joyfully spent of breath, draping her satisfied body over his, her chest feeling about a thousand degrees. “Damn.” She sighed from her head all the way down to her little toes. “Now that’s the way to start the workweek. That was a good one.”

“That was three.” Hauck flung back his arms in mock exhaustion. “I’m an old guy. You’re killing me.”

“Three?” She rested her chin on his chest. “Two, I think.”

“Two since they talked about the transit fares going up,” he told her. “One more since traffic and weather.”

“Oh, yeah, three,” she purred contentedly, releasing a long, slow sigh. “Math was never my strong suit.”

Hauck turned and focused in on the digital clock. “Damn. Look at the time! I’ve got to scoot.”

Annie restrained him as he tried to wrestle free, digging in her chin more sharply. “You know, I’m happy, Ty…” She smiled, a kind of coy, amused grin, being purposefully annoying. “Are you happy? You don’t always look so. I know you’re sort of a tough nut to crack.”

“Apparently not,” he said, chuckling at the lame joke. “And yeah, sure, I’m happy…” He tried to roll her off. “I’ll be happy if I can get you off of me and hop into the shower.”

“Oh, right,” Annie chortled, “like this wasn’t exactly what you had in mind when you snuggled over to me before the alarm went off…”

“Alright, maybe,” Hauck admitted a little guiltily. “One…”

“You’re just a glass-half-empty kind of dude, aren’t you? Never show too much of yourself. Never trust the moment.”

“I’m not half-empty at all.” Hauck finally spun her off and faced her sideways. “I’m actually completely half-full. It’s just that it’s buried. Very, very deep.”

“Right; if it were any deeper, you’d find oil in it,” Annie said, and deciding it was funny, twisted his nose.

“Laugh-out-loud,” Hauck said, screwing up his face. But then he laughed too.

That was because, truth be said, he was happy. The lines etched in his face might not have shown it, but Annie had brought things out in him he had never let surface before. The uncomplicated will to just enjoy life. To relax, stay in the moment. For the first time, it seemed things that had weighed heavily on him for so long-the deaths of his daughter, eight years before; his brother, only last year; and Freddy Munoz, his protégé on the force-all seemed to have been pushed back into some closed, time-locked vault he no longer felt compelled to open and to which he had momentarily lost the key.