Chapter 59

Anna
I extend my arm and punch. I do the same with the other. Punch, punch. Left, right. Again and again until I tire. The metal swings the punching bag away from me then back, away from me, then back again. I dance on my tip toes, left, right, left, right, punch, punch. Seconds, minutes, hours pass, I don't pay attention to the time.
It's the only time I don't.
Mickey, the owner of the training center I am profusely sweating in, comes up from behind me, I see him before he speaks, I feel his movement before he even makes it.
I was trained to.
"Looking good Anna but keep your elbows up."
I nod and do as ordered, then try again.
Punch, punch, left, right.
Sweat slides down one side of my face and onto my collarbone. I can feel pressure rising form the bottom of my back and that's my indication that I've been at this for over an hour. My max is usually no more than forty-five minutes, but if I really push myself, like today, I can normally make it to one hour and eighteen minutes.
Time is my thing.
Always has been.
I was taught at a young age to know every second, of every minute of every hour.
"Take a break girl." Mickey says as he rounds me again and hands me a towel and water bottle.
I take the offered towel and bottle in hand, thank him, and walk over to the boxing ring. I have been coming here for the last six months, ever since I moved out here to New York. Mickey took me in as soon as he saw I wasn't just some girl coming in here to check the guys out. He was a boxer back in his day, though he won't tell anyone. I googled him and found out his name used to be Mickey 'the mouse' Belvo.
Two men are going head to head in the boxing ring. I stare as the match begins right before my eyes. I thrive in the art of boxing. It's always been a passion of mine and now that I am training once again, I find myself drawn more and more to it. One of the men I recognize as Manuel, Mickey's nephew. He is a bit on the young side, only twenty, but has a sick mother and three little brothers to care for. The other man I have never seen before but judging by all the other men watching the match as well, he is new here.
I watch the match for a few minutes, smirking when I see Manuel winning, then look up at the clock on the far end of the brick wall.
Six forty-three pm.
I am usually home by now, but today was one of those days I had to stay longer, I had to work my aggressions out. A bad day at work plus the news I received in the mail this morning, has my mind in a fury.
Six fort-eight.
Time to head home.
I walk past everyone, saying a few goodbyes on my way out, then flip off Mickey's son, Boston, as he catcalls to me. I am the only woman to come here frequently and for some reason that gives Boston a hard on. We have a routine, him and me, he hits on me, I kick him in his junk. It's quite a beautiful relationship.
I click on the key FOB of my silver Lexus ES 350 and head straight home. It takes me no more than half an hour to get home and when I walk into my apartment building, I am met with the grueling decision on whether or not to check the mail.
I moved here six months ago for a specific reason, and the reason may very well be behind the golden mailbox.
I head over and put my key in number sixteen. When I put my hand in the four by ten box and feel the end of a clasp envelope, fear runs through my body. I grab the envelope, along with a few bills and marketing coupons, and head upstairs to my apartment.
My phone chimes with an annoying alert indicating a text, and judging by how many times it's going off, it's Laynie with something going wrong with her day.
Laynie has been my best friend since elementary school. She was the new girl at school and a few of the school bullies were making fun of her clothes. After my fist introduced themselves to the bratty girl's faces, I introduced myself to Laynie. We've been best friends since.
Her and her husband Jared, moved out to New York two years ago and when I told them I wanted to move out here as well, they were ecstatic, they just don't know the real reason. They never will.
Grabbing the cell, I look at the many messages of Laynie cursing, which is rare for her, about her inability to hire anyone to help manage her restaurant, Maggie's Place. I text her back, telling her I would help and giggle when I get the response back that she wouldn't let me near a stove.
My friends have always given me shit about my amazing cooking skills. I know I'm not the best but come on, those mini quiches with whip cream frosting weren't that bad.
Waking inside the kitchen, I grab a bottle of wine and a glass and grab the clasp envelope I so dreaded to pick up. I open it and see the slew of photos that I know now to set aside and look at well after I am drunk. The other contents are documentation upon documentation of what I know will help our case later, so I set that aside as well. The last is a letter. I have grown to obsess with the letters I receive at least one a week, and this one is no different.
I stand and pace, then pace some more.
I don't have it in me to read the letter tonight. I grab the glass, and put it back in my cabinet, then grab the bottle of wine and walk to my bathroom. Tonight, is going to be one of those bubble baths, bottle of wine by my side nights.
After a long drawn out sigh after the tub is filled to the max with bubbles pouring over, I count to sixty twice, then get inside. I grab the bottle of wine next and start my pity bubble bath party.

"You smell like you got prayed by a skunk." Delilah says to me the next day at work.
I bought my salon, Creations, from the previous owner, and she only had one term upon agreement of the sale. She didn't want the original stylists to be without a job just because she was selling. I agreed but I wish I had known that Delilah Monroe was one of the stylists before I bought it.
She is an arrogant self-righteous bitch, but damn, the girl is seriously talented. She has a quick wit, like me, she is a smartass, like me, and is usually in someone else's business, like me. See a pattern here? No one wants to be around themselves all day.
"Seem to know the smell well, being a hillbilly will do that to you." I remark with a smirk. Delilah is originally from Mississippi and hates when we remind her of it, something I do often.
Delilah blesses me with one of the many eye rolls I'm sure I will receive today and with that I head over to my office. I didn't have it in me to read the letter that accompanied the many photos and evidence that will help my overall case last night. After my self-pity bubble bath, I ended up half drunk on my bedroom floor tempted to drunk call Alan.
Alan and I are not only friends, but we tried dating a few years ago, although nobody knows it. We just didn't feel comfortable telling everyone about what went on the night we broke up. Our best friends, Jared and Laynie, have always questioned our relationship with each other, but it wasn't something either of us felt comfortable sharing.
Although I didn't call Alan last night, I did message him about his trip. Last month Alan broke the news that he was moving out here as well. Jared and Laynie were overjoyed that we would all be together once again. Me? As much as I care about Alan and deny my feelings for him, I'm worried he might make everything I have been working towards out here, harder.
I have loved Alan all of my life and even more now that he knows one of my darkest secrets and still cares for me the way he does, but I know I cannot be with Alan. I carry too much guilt.
Alan hadn't messaged me back, but I couldn't necessarily expect him to. I'm sure he is extremely busy with the move and can't expect him to drop everything for me. Still, it didn't stop me from glancing every few seconds at my phone this morning.
I look at the time on the far wall.
Two thirty-seven.
I am seven minutes late for meeting my next client. I get up and walk out to the front, paying close attention to each customer interaction with my staff. I take great pride in what I do. If it were up to my father I would have forever remained in the family business, doing God knows what to innocent people, but I knew once I branched out, what I wanted to do with my life.
Growing up with long blonde hair, bright green eyes and a body men twice my age would crave, I've always been told I was beautiful. It wasn't until I was older did I truly understand what true beauty was. Being beautiful on the inside and letting it shine through the outside, was true beauty. So, I pushed my dream to be something that I can make anyone and everyone that was beautiful on the inside, feel beautiful on the outside.
"Hi welcome to Creations. I'm Anna, the owner, and I'll be the one styling you today. Why don't we come on over here to my station and we can go over everything you want done?" I say the same speech that is on a constant replay in my head. I could say my speech in my sleep.
The client introduces herself as Mindy, a fifty-seven-year-old real estate agent who will be leaving today for her son's wedding this weekend. She has six children and thirteen grandchildren and has been married to her husband for the last thirty-one years. The stories she has, some funny, some extremely depressing, lasts as long as the entire appointment and before I know it, I'm starring at the big hand going up the twelve, while the little hand meets the six.
Closing time.
I wipe down and sweep up my station as Mindy says goodbye after paying at the front and make my way over to the office to close out the computer system. I walk in and see my cell phone on the desk. I mentally berate myself for leaving the phone out and in the open the way I did. I'm usually not that careless. When I reach it, I see I have several text messages from Alan and smile when I read the first one as him asking me what I'm wearing. I text him back a picture of me in my uniform and receive a 'Hubba Hubba' back.
I sit in my desk and start the process of shutting down for the day. Creations has been doing exceptional well these last few months since I've moved out here. I chose closest to the city for location, and although the traffic stinks, the business is booming. Both Laynie and Jared helped spread the word and Candice, Jared's half-sister, though he just found out last year who she was, spread the word to all her nurse friends.
After another hour of going down my closing list, my phone chimes once again. Automatically assuming it's Alan, I grab my phone and look at the new text with a smile. The feeling is overwhelming when I think of him moving out here soon, but is squashed down from the impact of the fear I now have as I look at the screen and see that the text is not from Alan.
Unknown: He knows Belle
I stand up from my chair and feel it fall backwards. I look around the room like a scared child and nearly slap myself at what I'm doing. It's been a while, but I know better than to react this way. If anyone is watching me, they will see that I have seen the text and most likely reacted the way they expected.
I walk out the office, after locking up and see only Delilah remaining. I usually do not close, not being a fan of driving in the dark, but my manager Meghan, needed a few days off to tend to funeral arrangements for her mother in law.
"You didn't have to stay." I say as I walk over to Delilah putting her purse around her shoulder.
"Didn't have to go either." She barks back.
I roll my eyes at her and grab my purse as well. We both walk outside to our cars and I wait for her to get into hers. After zooming out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell, I get in my Lexus and take off as well.
It takes twenty minutes to get home, a three-bedroom apartment I decided to rent when moving out here. I thought I would prefer a home, but after looking at them being so far from the salon and not wanting to necessarily put down roots, an apartment was the perfect solution. I can disappear without leaving too much of a trace.
I walk up the stairs, always avoiding the elevator, and stop mid-way down my corridor when I see my apartment door ajar. Shit. I don't carry my gun on me. I haven't needed to in so many years that it finally became second nature. Now I'm wishing I did.
I walk slowly over to the door, pulling out my stun gun as I do, and push the door open. It slams against the back wall and I listen out for any noises that shouldn't be there. I can hear the television on but can't see anything. I walk a little closer into the apartment and freeze when I see a dark figure, one I'm way too familiar with, on my couch.
"Close the door Annabelle." Father says while still staring at the flat screen on the wall.
I do as I'm told, still I shock by the man I haven't seen since that night six years ago. The same night that I decided to leave the family business behind, the night my brother was arrested and sent to prison for him. My anger almost overpowers my body. It takes everything in me to not lunge at the man responsible for destroying my mind.
I walk over to where father sits and stand before him. He has changed. He has aged tremendously. Of course, having to struggle since you no longer have the two people that are in charge of practically feeding you, will do that to you. His hair has gotten thinner and instead of the golden blonde that it once was, it's grayer now. He is skinnier, almost as if his health has declined vastly. He looks almost straggly like he is looking for his next fix.
Father continues to stare at the television and although majority of me wants to demand him to get the fuck out of my apartment and out of my life, I need to proceed with caution around him. The text I received earlier at work keeps coming to mind as I sit there and watch him watching television.
Father knows Belle
After two minutes and eleven seconds, father finally takes his eyes off the television and brings them to me. I cringe at his dead brown eyes as they capture mine with their gaze. His eyes look so lifeless, I almost wonder if he is staring at me or the wall behind me. He smiles a sinister smile and I know, in that moment, he has a plan for me.
"Think I don't know what you two have been up to these last few months." Father says shaking his head and chuckling. He stands and walks over to my window, staring at the impeccable view that is downtown Manhattan. "I will always know what my children are up to, even if I don't stay in your lives, I am always in your heads."
I swallow loudly but remain calm on the outside. I can't let on to father anything I have been working on these last few months. I can't let anyone know.
Father Knows Belle
Father remains at the window as he speaks the reason why he is here, not only in my apartment, but back in my life.
"You will not continue your request for justice, Annabelle. You will refrain from doing anything that will get you on my bad side, and do you know why?" He waits for me to say something, but nothing comes out of my mouth, nothing can come out. I am frozen.
"Because, dear Annabelle, you belong to me. You may have abandoned the family business. You may even have a few scars from doing so, but you will always be a Delula. You will always be your father's daughter, and because of that, I will always be in your head. Your guilt is something you will always carry, and for good reason."
"What do you want father?" I say with a shaky voice. I hate how nervous I am around this man.
"Cole has disappeared from the authorities watching him. Our people are protecting his secret and his location. In doing so, he has given me free reign over his money. The first thing I want to do is restart what should have happened six years ago, and you're going to help me do just that."
I am shaking my head at him before he is even done speaking. He should know I would never join him. I would never help him do things to others that was done to me. That's why I left in the first place, and he's right, I have the scars to prove it.
Father turns his head and smiles greatly at me then walks over from the window to me. It takes him seven strides to reach me. I know, I counted them.
When he is right before me, he speaks to me once again and this time, causes my heart to stop a beat, causing me to miscount in my head.
"If you do not help me Annabelle, Alan Scott King will die, and you now know that I have the ability to easily make that happen." He steps closer to me and whispers quietly. "I know he is moving out here Annabelle, I know everything that will happen, and I will destroy you, by destroying him."
Father takes a step back, then another, he moves towards the door and opens it stopping midway through the doorway, turns to me and smirks.
"I'll be in contact Annabelle. Keep your phone on you."
With that, my father, the man I thought I was finally free of, the man I was hoping to put away soon, has my soul in his pocket, and is making no plans to hand it back over to me. I know I must do as he says, or Alan will get hurt and that is something I could never bear.