Tangled

Chapter 4 - Everything Has Changed

~Dylan~

Bob’s.

Only Aiden will understand his fascination for this crowded bar where girls in skimpy clothes grind against hefty, sweaty men who are looking for action in bed. I sit there sipping my gin and tonic, occasionally taking a quick drag of the cigarette between my fingers, watching Cami and Aiden, dancing to some random EDM song that I don’t particularly care for.  Cami is looking all formal in her work clothes and styled brunette hair, but anybody who lays eyes on her will know that she is enjoying the night and is here for a good time with her partner. This is tradition, Saturday night, after work. Aiden considers it to be a sin to want to skip this unnecessary ritual where all we do is inhale incorrigible odour that Bob’s freely offers along with their half decent and cheap vodka. However, it’s worth seeing him smile and so I always agree, even though seeing my best friend with his fiancé, makes me want to wallow in self-pity and never third wheel them again. Yet, I find myself in a similar position almost every f*****g week. Sure, they’re my closest friends, friends that are family but I cannot stop myself from getting jealous, time to time. It’s human nature to want something good that you see someone having. It is indispensable when your buddy’s life is set and you are still searching for meaning and closure. It is harder when you think you are particularly incapable of maintaining a relationship.

“A penny for your thoughts?” I snap out of my inner monologue when Cameron sits next to me, her skin glistening and her dark hair sticking to her neck and face from all the sweat. Aiden is out in the crowd, interacting with other girls who are more than eager to get a hit at him, despite seeing him with his fiancé who by the way has a big rock on her left hand. Although it is likely that they don’t know he’s her fiancé if they are not regular to Bob’s.

I point in the direction of my blonde friend and the random girls, “Does that not bother you or are you pretending it doesn’t?”

Cami follows my gaze and laughs softly, shaking her head. She’s so delicate, her giggle is so feminine and childish and she’s so pretty. Is this what drew Aiden to her? Is this what he sees every morning and night?

“Man, I think this is it. I know what I really want.”

I remember A saying these very lines four years ago when he had been rushed to the hospital for a wound from a knife, a battle scar now. That is where he first had seen Cami, where she’d been working as a nurse intern. Time flies.

“You know that you’re distracting me from wanting to know what you’re thinking, right?” I chuckle, sipping on my drink, keeping my eyes trained on Aiden. She sighs, knowing that she will not get an answer and turns to look at her man, “But to answer your question, no. It doesn’t bother me because at the end of the day, I am the one Aiden had chosen and still chooses. He comes back to me in the night and he loves me. He makes sure I know that. I have learnt that you got to trust your man and that jealousy is an ugly feeling to bask in. Very tempting to slip like that but you have to trust.”

“I’m glad that this child has you,” I respond, internally praying that she will stop probing about my own unhealthy, immature thoughts. Because what Cami wants, Cami gets.

“Sure. But don’t think I did not see you pondering like your life depended on it. Talk to me, Dyl. I want to help,” she says, her gaze fixed on me, almost pleading.

“I am quite alright, Cami.” I shift slightly to face her, “I really am.”

I need something strong if I am going to be interrogated. Thankfully, my friends know when to drop it.

That’s when the corner of my eye catches something. A whisper yell, a weak shove, some hand-pulling and small struggle. I see a buff guy, slowly forcing himself on one of the blonde girls that I had seen on the dance floor, earlier that night. The tattoos on his hands indicate some allegiance with some gang that I don’t recognize, making me assume it is one of the smaller, upcoming ones. I don’t see anybody that the girl identifies as familiar and she seems so scared and out of it, as the man intimidates her and tries to have his way with her. Squinting my eyes towards the two of them, to gauge the nature of the relationship between the two, I see pure horror on the petite girl’s face and that is when I decide to jump in. Nasty events and Bob’s are getting way too synonymous for my liking.  I jump up, scaring Cami in the process before pushing my way through the crowd.

“That’s enough now, man! No is a no,” I bellow, casually landing my hand on his bulky shoulder. He throws me a nasty over the shoulder glance and soon enough, I see three of his friends make their way through the crowd towards me and so I opt to throw my hands up, “See man, I am not looking for trouble. Just let that girl go and we can all go on our merry ways.”

“Who are you?” The man growls with a shove and I mentally roll my eyes. I don’t know what gives these men this superiority complex, a feeling that they are definitely better than the other. Like does he see himself in the mirror? My thoughts are cut short when the man continues, “I suggest you go on your merry way and let me handle blondie.”

I sigh, “I, unfortunately, cannot do that, dude. So, what are you gonna do? Throw a punch?”

“Frey?” I hear a voice behind me, making me look over my shoulder. Bad move, because the minute I do that, I have gun pressed into my back. Angst and fear flicker across her hazel orbs dance around, taking my face in.

It’s her.

Even with a f*****g gun pressed against my back, I take a minute to drink the image of the woman in front of me. The eyes that simply won’t stop chasing me in my dreams. Her hair is short in an asymmetrical bob, rippling and framing her heart-shaped face. She’s dressed in chic casuals in colours that compliment her café au lait skin and her voluptuous body.

“Frey?” she whispers again urgently and the blonde girl moves to side with her when another man launches at her, attempting to pull her close. Her friend lunges forward and shoves the man as hard as she could, although he barely moves an inch, she manages to distract the man behind me for a split of a second, which I take advantage of before sending my elbow at the man into his ribcage that makes him double-over. Meanwhile, Aiden seems to have caught on and comes right along, tackling the big guy from the group who comes for me. I push the brunette aside and kick at the man’s knee that helps loosen his grip on the victim. Soon enough, some intelligent soul, albeit drunk calls 911 as the bouncers rapidly take control of the situation.

God knows where they are when their customers are being harassed by assholes like these three.

When the police arrive, blondie is trembling and her lips begin to quiver. Her friend takes over for her and narrates the incidents that she had witnessed without a single hint of fear. Her posture screams confident, with her hands pushed into the back pockets of her jeans, her chin upright and her eyes stare right into the eyes of the detective she is speaking with.

But, she had been afraid. When her eyes met mine.

She finishes her witness statement and skirts around, the crowd to grab some water at the bar and I take advantage of her solitude, before approaching her.

“Hey!”

She jumps a little before abruptly turning to look at me. One good look at me is all she needs before she snaps, “Can you really take your gang problems elsewhere and not sort them out where tax-paying civilians like us want to relax and certainly not involve us in your drama?”

I am confused. Gang problems? What?

“Sorry, miss! You-”

“You ruined my painting the other day while chasing someone on the sidewalk. My hard work. Today, you endangered my friend. Actually, I need to say more in my statement-”

Just when she swirls trying to walk off to any available detective, a colleague blocks her way, reaching his hand out for a pat on my shoulder.

“Agent Foley, good work today!”

The lady’s eyes might have popped, but she quickly composes herself. There is a very obvious bite in her tone when she utters, “Agent? Sir, I think you might have gotten the wrong person. He-”

Rowan is quick to ignore her and continues, “You might want to be more careful. Public violence is not appropriate behaviour for the feds, now is it?. Also, stop stealing our jobs and limelight”

“Sure. But assholes like him deserve it.” With a smirk, I throw an arm on his shoulder. “Also, I’ll try.”

She is stunned. I can see it as her eyes waver between Rowan and I while he continues to say things about the recent spike bar fights and crimes.  She’s blinking hard, trying to assimilate the new information, that is completely contradicting the image she seemed to have had about me. And I can see, she’s having trouble doing so.

“I’ll see you, then! Take care, man!”

Rooted in her place, she stares at me like I am a ghost.

“Miss, you okay?”

She finally snaps out of it, blinking a couple of times before swallowing heavily. She rasps out in a stutter, “Yeah, sure.” She properly faces me. “You’re an agent? A fed?”

I shrug. “Sure. Organized Crimes, FBI. Eight years and counting.” Not quite the introduction but I have this pressing for her to know who I am.

“Wow,” she whispers, running her hands through her short, chestnut coloured hair. I will probably never understand why she has a hard time believing this. It’s like she never considered the possibility.

“Okay. I- I think I need to check on my friend,” she manages to say before spinning around to walk away. Jumping forward, I grab her elbow, stopping her in her tracks. She looks down at where I am holding her and looks back up with a glint in her eyes. Certainly not the nice kind.

“What?” she bites, looking around and carefully pulling herself out of my hold. Her eyes are narrowed into slits, it’s alert and hostile.

“What’s your name and where do you live? I’ll drop you off along with your friend,” I offer.

The brunette visibly rolls her eyes and snorts, “Thanks, but no thanks!”

“Listen, I- I want to ensure your safety. You-”

“So, you’re a fed? Fine. Good for you. But do I know you? Why would you offer to drop me off? Why did you think, I would tell you anything about myself? Does being the FBI also make you entitled?” she shoots, her face turning stern and annoyed.

“No- I…”

She puts her palm up, cutting me off, “Thanks. I can find my way back home. You don’t have to worry.”

Hesitating, I weigh the outcomes. Surely, nothing appears to be in my favour.

“Yeah, okay!” I nod, pushing my hands through my pant pockets. “Go safe.”

“I will-” “Hey?”

She turns in the direction of the voice, to find her friend who finally looks composed and serene after what just happened. The girl latches on the woman in front of me and looks at her pleadingly. She gently pats her friend’s back and throws an arm around her in security before walking off, not sparing me a second glance.

~

This is probably not the first time someone hates me and will definitely not be the last. I work in the Federal Bureau of Investigation for f**k’s sake. There is no way everybody’s pleased with me, certainly not girls. It’s either the lack of time or the nature of the investigation or sometimes the lack of empathy that I seem to exude as an agent. Oh, the poker face.

But, it bothers me. Her hating me bothers me.

~Maeve~

The drive back to my apartment is silent. Freya continues to look out of the window, small tears rolling down her pretty face accompanied by intermittent sniffles. Her hair is looking all messed up and she’s clinging to the jacket I had given her in the club. She looks out of it and I struggle to tell her anything at all. I sigh and continue to drive, turning around the block when she finally speaks, “You know that detective?”

I glance at her briefly before shaking my head. “Federal Agent, actually and no. I mean, not personally. But, I kinda do.”

“How?” If distraction is what she wants, I’m more than willing to give her that.

“He’s the one who ruined my painting that day, a fortnight ago. He was chasing somebody on the sidewalk.”

There is an uncomfortable silence that I break by clearing my throat and speaking, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you. I shouldn’t have come late like that. I am sorry, Freya!”

She quickly shakes her head, “No, it wasn’t your fault. It just was too scary! I-”

She shudders and is quick to wipe her tears away. I rest my free hand on her lap, holding her hand in the most reassuring manner that I know of.

It’s a quiet drive back to my apart and she’s quick to change her outfit before joining me in bed. We chill, doing our own thing before Freya speaks again, “Did he apologize? Did you know he was an agent when you last med him?”

“Not quite an apology. I just- don’t know.” I turn to look at her, “He makes me feel a certain way and I just can’t seem to trust him even after I knew he was the FBI. Apparently, a good one at that.”

She grabs my hand, smiling mischievously for the first time in the evening, “A certain way, huh?” She’s wiggling her eyebrows at me suggestively and I lean forward to slightly shove her.

“Shut it, Freya! Stop being weird!”

“I am the one being weird?” she questions before pointing in the direction of my work table. I scrunchy face in confusion before I realize what she is referring to.

Shit.

“I-”

Freya is still looking at me for an answer and I am just rendered speechless. What possible explanation could I have for having a portrait of a man who ruined my painting and who I just admitted made me feel a certain way?

“I- Look, I don’t know, alright? I just wasn’t processing what I was doing. Also, art can be a way of releasing hatred and coping, you know? You don’t just draw portraits of people you like.”

Freya giggles and lays back, “Sure, Mae! Whatever you say.”