The Son-In-Law’s Revenge

31

Joan runs her slender fingers over the fabric of her lace dress, the rough creases protesting against the smooth motion. She heaves a breath, memories of her last moments with Brock swirl in her mind. She swipes at a stray tear before it leaves the safety of her eyes.

Brock had been an excellent assistant and, in her mind, he still is. She coats her lips a final time with the black lipstick she always keeps in her purse. Today is going to be a long day!

She throws in a white handkerchief, the family emblem Brock always wears and the lipstick in her matching purse. She steps out of the room to the gloomy air, the stench of masked pain and sadness staining the pleasant aroma of the flowers maids carry as they pass by the group, their heads in a bow.

Every member standing at attention on both sides of Joan is dressed immaculately in an Armani black suit. She nods to each man in acknowledgment as she passes between each of them, her eyes, however, focused forward, to the point where the path they create for her remains blocked, where Logan stands waiting for her with an outstretched hand.

Side by side, they walk out of the house and towards the field where the burial is to take place, the men following closely behind. Not a word passes, and they are cradled by a mutual need for silence, silence which is soon ruined by the hymn coming from the center of the field.

They soon arrive at the point where the sound of singing is loudest and look at each other a final time before joining the congregation. The bodyguards take their seats behind Logan and Joan without a word as a friend of Brock drones on and on about how much of an impact Brock has made on their dysfunctional family and Joan can’t disagree with that one bit.

“Do you think she'll come?” Joan hears a blonde lady just two rows from her, whisper.

“Who? Oh, I doubt it. She isn’t supposed to, at least,” a brunette responds, her tone clipped as if to shut the other lady up. Joan finds herself very interested in the conversation because she knows just who they’re talking about but stops herself before she says anything to both women. It’s none of their business, and they wouldn’t even know about it if the lady hadn’t been such a gold digger hoping to get something from an innocent man’s death.

Logan holds Joan’s hand in his and her attention is drawn back to the ceremony, which goes on for hours before the priest directs everyone to pay their respects by the gravestone.

They all head to the gravestone, the inscription breaks Joan’s heart as she stares at it. Brock Walden. A man she has known for years. A tear threatens to slip again, and she fights it with everything in her. She is not going to look weak in the presence of people that must see her as unshakable. She blinks the tears back and watches as person after person drops flowers in different colors and of different species, takes a final stare and turns to leave, making the end of their presence for the ceremony.

It’s her turn and she grabs black dahlias from the man closest to her and takes a few steps to the gravestone, covered thoughtfully in black and white marble. Everyone is gone now save her, Logan and two of the men from the morning. The grass yields to her obsidian black heels as she approaches. She lays the flowers above the others on the gravestone.

“You will be missed. More than you ever would have thought.” She whispers as she plays with the flower petals. She closes her eyes to block out a tear for the third time today and rises to her full height.

Logan squeezes her hand as it is his turn to pay his respects to the deceased.“I think I need some time alone,” he says loud enough for Joan to hear.

Joan looks him in the eye, searching to see if it is one of those moments he actually needs someone but can’t say it. “Are you sure?” She asks, worried in her eyes.

“Certain.”

“Okay.” She agrees, “Don’t forget the meeting soon.” She finishes and walks away, taking both men with her.

Alone, Logan drops the black roses beside Joan’s. “I should have listened to you. You tried to warn me,” he says to no one in particular. His gaze drops to the red slash across his name on the gravestone, a mark that signifies murder. Logan’s hands curled into tight fists by his sides. “He won’t get away with this. I promise you that,” Logan fumes, jumping to his feet at the thought of the bastard out there, celebrating a new kill.

“I would find the bastard, make him wish I’d ended his miserable life, and bring him right here to reflect just before I slit his throat open.” Logan professed a crazed smile on his face, because he knew if Brock were here, he would scream at that.

He nods and takes quick steps back to the mansion. He walks in just in time for the meeting.

“Good. You’re here,” Antonio calls Logan. “Joan wouldn’t be alone for too long because a unanimous vote has been put in place to make Wade her new assistant!” Antonio announces to him as it’s a cause for celebration.

Logan cringes at how unfeeling Antonio says it and how quickly Brock has been replaced. He nods and leaves for his room.

In the safety of his room, Logan cradles a bottle of vodka. He takes a swing from the bottle and lets himself slip down the wall beside his door, a sadness settling in his chest.

(Flashback begins)

Brock laid on the gravel floor, bloodied and bruised, a gunshot wound in his arm and at the center of his chest, blood oozing from his sides where he had been slashed by two daggers. He didn’t have much time. He won’t even make it to the car so the hospital was out of the question.

Brock coughed up blood and Logan lifts him from the floor to support Brock’s back with his arms. “I’m not going to make it. Not this time.” He said, a sad smile on his face.

Logan knew he was right but shook his head still, “You would. Just stay with me.” As the words left his mouth, he knew they were a lie.

“Tell Joan I’d still be her assistant regardless.” Brock continued like Logan hadn’t said a word, the sad smile still on his face. “And Logan,” Brock called, Logan’s attention now back to his palling face he added, “Trust no one.” He said barely above a whisper and his entire weight hit Logan, his eyes stilled and his breathing stopped.

(Flashback ends)

Logan screams, the pain and anger from seeing Brock like that catching up with him. He smashes the still filled bottle against his room door, not caring for the pieces that bury themselves in his skin.