The Enigma (Unlawful Men)

I see it happen before Goldie has even engaged, her head flying back and cracking Beau on the cheek. It gives her the moment she needs to free herself, and she spins, pulling back her fist, ready to sink it into Beau’s face. But Beau moves fast, flipping herself over, and Goldie’s fist lands in Beau’s side, winding her. “Goldie, stop!” I bellow, grabbing her from behind and yanking her back. “For fuck’s sake, stop!” I’ve seen Goldie lose it only once. Only once has the red mist descended and sent her psycho. When that happens, she’s unmoving. Unstoppable. She won’t quit until her victim is unconscious or even dead.

“She’s pregnant!” I yell, shoving Goldie away. “For fuck’s sake, she’s fucking pregnant.” I go to Beau on the floor and start to gather her up, but I’m met with force, her hands batting me away.

She scrambles up, moving back, retreating. “What are you talking about?” she wheezes, eyes darting wildly. And it hits me. What I’ve said. Fuck.

“You’re pregnant.” I exhale, wishing for a clean outcome to this shitshow.

“You said negative.” Beau points up the stairs, as if I could have forgotten the scene in the bathroom after my apartment got ambushed. “You said it was negative.”

I did. I don’t know what came over me. Maybe it was seeing the absolute terror in her eyes. Maybe I wanted to test just how relieved I thought she’d be. How much she didn’t want it. I never anticipated the level of her appreciation. How happy she was. Her smile. And then I couldn’t bring myself to utter the words that would send her relief spiraling into regret. And the truth is, I was gutted. Stunned. Not only by Beau’s reaction, but by my disappointment. Because in that moment, I saw a glimmer of hope for us both. Something to turn us both around. Something to tear us away from vengeance and bring us peace. Something other than each other, for there is nothing to save us from ourselves. Except, perhaps, a new life. Not death, not blood, not pain, not revenge. Peace in its purest form and purpose of the most promising kind. It’s something I never considered finding, and in that moment, it was mine.

“You were so relieved.” I look away, forcing back any signs of hurt. “I didn’t want to take that away from you.”

Beau coughs over a laugh, and I flick my eyes to Goldie who’s standing quietly by the elevator. She shakes her head at me. It’s understandable. She sees the hidden hope. I’m a fucking joke. Do I honestly think there’s anything that can save me? No. But without hope that there’s something that can save Beau, what’s the fucking point in me being here?

I drag my eyes back to the woman who has taken everything I thought I understood and blew it apart. I’m not the man I was when she walked into my apartment only a few weeks ago. Unfeeling. Unrepentant. Unseen. Problem is, I’m not sure who I’ve become in that short time. Or if I can keep him alive.

Beau looks spaced out. It’s not sunk in yet. I can relate. I’ve thought of nothing since I saw two little lines. “Beau?” I say, moving forward.

Her hand comes up, halting me. “Don’t touch me,” she orders, her chest pulsing. “Just do not touch me.”

“We need to talk about this.”

The elevator doors open, and Goldie enters it silently, leaving us alone. She gives me another shake of her head before I lose sight of her.

Beau moves across to the kitchen and opens the fridge. She reaches for a bottle of beer, and I feel every muscle in me tense, ready to go over and fight her for it. But she diverts her reaching hand to a water before I’m forced to intervene, swigging half the bottle down in one long gulp. Then she turns and paces to the stairs, taking them two at a time, fast and determined. I grab my phone and follow her, checking the cameras as I do. There’s a message from Goldie.

I’ve never in my life known such a stupid fucking man.

“Me neither,” I say to myself, calling her. “Are you okay?” I ask when she answers.

“I’m fine. For fuck’s sake. I don’t even know what to say to you.”

Nothing. Say nothing about that. “Do we know how they got in yet?”

“The sensor on the roof failed. Or was cut.”

“Fix it. Add more backups.” I hang up and realign my focus, finding Beau in the bathroom sitting on the toilet seat rifling through the bin. She pulls out the stick. Looks at it. Then she hiccups over a sob, dropping it to the tile and burying her face in her palm. My heart twists in my chest as I stand on the threshold, wanting to go to her but knowing I’m walking on dangerous ground. We still haven’t cleared up the matter that had her pointing a fucking 9mm at me. I don’t know who told her I was there, or where the fuck this footage has come from. I can’t bear watching her fall apart like this. I should be on my knees before her, holding her, telling her it’s all going to be okay.