Page 36 of The Wives of Hawthorne Lane

Maggie

Benton Avenue

“Where the fuck is my money, Dean?”

Maggie has never seen Mike like this before, his nostrils flaring, his teeth clenched as he glowers down at Dean.

“I don’t know what you mean, man,” Dean replies.

“See, the thing is,” Mike snarls, his hands gripping the edge of Maggie’s kitchen table so tightly that his knuckles blanch, “people don’t tend to pay when they don’t get their product. And so I’m going to ask you again—where the fuck is my money?”

“We made the drop,” Dean insists. “Just like you said.”

“We?”

“Yeah. I mean, Maggie was the one who drove it out there but—”

“You sent Maggie to do your job?” Mike slams his fist down on the table so hard that it makes the rows of empty bottles jump. One of them teeters a moment before crashing to the floor and shattering at Maggie’s feet.

Both men look at her now. She stands straight-backed and rigid, afraid to so much as breathe as she stares at the shards of broken glass, at the jagged pieces reflecting the dull overhead light. She can’t bring herself to meet their eyes.

“And did you do it, Maggie?” Mike asks her.

Maggie opens her mouth to reply, but all that comes out is a tiny strangled cry. She swallows hard and tries again. “Yes,” she manages to squeak out this time.

Mike shakes his head, sets his sights on Dean again.

“Well, something went wrong, and I’m holding you responsible.

You have one week. One week to get me either my drugs or my money.

The choice is yours, but if you don’t have one or the other by the time I come back here, we’re going to have a problem.

” Mike curls and uncurls his fingers at his side.

Maggie watches the muscles in his forearm flex beneath his skin. She wonders what a man like Mike is capable of. It feels as though her insides have turned to liquid.

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” Dean replies. “We’ve been friends since we were five years old, we’re business partners, I’m sure we can—”

“We are not partners,” Mike snaps. “You work for me. And I’m not the top of the food chain either. The guys I answer to…they aren’t gonna care how long we’ve been friends. I have to pay up, which means you have to pay up. That’s the only way this is going to go down.”

“I told you,” Dean insists, a wheedling tone edging between his words. Maggie can tell he’s scared now, and this, more than anything, frightens her. “I don’t have the package anymore, and I definitely don’t have that kind of money.”

“Then you’d better find a way to get it,” Mike growls. “Fast.”

He storms out of their kitchen, and the aluminum door rattles on its hinges behind him.

Dean collapses into a chair, drops his head into his hands.

Maggie slowly backs out of the room and collects her keys from the ring.

She has to get those drugs back. Why did she ever think she’d get away with this?

She’d just been so panicked, she wasn’t thinking straight.

And when she came home empty-handed, Dean looking at her expectantly, she’d been too afraid to tell him anything other than what he wanted to hear.

And so she’d lied, let him believe that she’d done as she was told.

—

Maggie’s hands fumble with her key. They’re shaking so badly that she can’t manage to slide it into the lock on her car door.

Suddenly a shadow looms over her shoulder, large and menacing, blocking what’s left of the fading evening sun. “Going somewhere?”

Startled, Maggie drops the key. It lands on the dry dirt at her feet, sending up a small puff of dust.

Mike bends down and retrieves it for her. “I think you lost something.”

She can’t be sure if he’s talking about the key or if he’s somehow figured out what she did.

“Th-thanks,” Maggie stammers, teeth chattering. Mike presses the key, warm, into her palm.

“Listen,” he says as calmly as if he were talking to a small child, “I don’t know what happened here, but Dean roped you into something he shouldn’t have.” His eyes search her face before dragging slowly down the length of her body.

Maggie feels a shudder roll through her.

Mike reaches out a rough, callused hand, gently sweeps it along her cheekbone, and tucks a lock of her limp brown hair behind her ear.

“Dean and I have been friends a long time, but he’s never deserved you.”

Maggie is too frightened to agree, too frightened to move. Her skin feels like it’s burning where Mike’s fingers were, but still she says nothing.

“What if…” Mike continues, drawing closer to her now. “What if I found a way to leave your name out of all of this? Would you like that?”

He trails the back of his hand over the curve of her neck, his touch featherlight. It sends a wave of chills coursing through Maggie’s body, and she jumps away from him, presses herself against the cold metal of her car, her heart firing rapidly in her chest.

Mike narrows his oil-black eyes at her, her rejection kindling anger. “Have it your way,” he spits. “This is both of your problems now. And you’re going to pay up. One way or another.”

Maggie clambers into the car and pulls the door shut behind her.

She jams the key into the ignition and peels out of the driveway, her foot quaking on the accelerator.

As she looks into her rearview mirror, she finds that he’s still standing there, watching her in the cloud of dust she’d left behind.

—

Maggie drives slowly down Main Street, trying to retrace her steps on that awful night. She knows it’s the only way she’ll be able to find the old gas station again. She’d been lost then, in an unfamiliar part of town.

On the sidewalk, two teenagers whiz by on bicycles.

A boy and a girl, the girl’s hair fanning out behind her as she rides.

It’s like seeing a memory broadcast over reality, Maggie and Sam at that age.

Tears well in Maggie’s eyes at the thought of her old friend.

What would he think of her if he could see her now?

Why hadn’t she just listened to him when she had the chance?

He’d tried to warn her about Dean, but she’d been too stubborn to listen.

Sam and Dean met only once. At a bar Dean had chosen.

The kind of place where beer was served in frothy pint glasses, and the paper menus were slipped into sticky plastic sleeves.

It was shortly after Maggie and Dean had started dating, and she found that she was nervous.

Sam and Dean were the two most important men, the two most important people, in her life, and she was desperate for them to like each other.

When Sam walked into the bar, Maggie felt her heart crack wide open.

It had been months since they’d seen each other, and she hadn’t realized how much she missed him.

He wore worn, dark-washed jeans and a button-down flannel shirt, and he had something of a beard that Maggie had never seen before.

She stood from the table, a huge smile on her face as she waved him over.

She felt Dean bristle next to her, his eyes sharp and appraising on the other man.

It hadn’t occurred to her that Dean might be jealous of Sam.

She’d never really thought of Sam in that way.

He’d always just been Sam. Her Sam. More like a brother to her than anything else.

A brother who was now standing beside the table, casting a large shadow across Dean’s face.

Sam offered Dean a hand and they shook, nodding at each other coolly, and then Sam wrapped Maggie in a hug, lifting her off her feet and spinning her around. “I’ve missed you, Mags.”

They sat at a small, round table, Maggie positioned between the two men.

She felt like she was playing Ping-Pong all night, her attention swiveling from Dean to Sam and back as she tried to engage them both in conversation.

The atmosphere was tense, the men appraising each other like boxers in a ring.

“So what do you do for a living?” Sam eventually asked Dean. It seemed to Maggie that, thus far, they’d both gone out of their way to avoid speaking to each other directly.

“I work on cars.”

“Oh, that’s cool.”

“Yeah, I hear you know a thing or two about cars.” Dean grinned maliciously.

Sam raised one eyebrow, folding his arms over his chest, and Maggie coughed, nearly choking on her soda.

Why had she told Dean about Sam’s past? She’d never dreamed he would bring it up like this.

And besides, what happened hadn’t been Sam’s fault.

He was with a group of friends at a party; they’d had too much to drink, someone had stolen a car and they’d taken it for a joyride.

Sam hadn’t been the one driving, but in the end they’d left him holding the bag.

He’d been arrested. Maggie knew that was one of the lowest points of Sam’s life.

And he’d worked so hard to turn things around since then, now running a successful furniture-restoration company that he’d built from the ground up.

She couldn’t believe Dean had taken this opportunity to throw Sam’s past in his face. She’d told him that in confidence.

Sam nodded as if accepting a challenge. “Okay, man. I see how it is.”

When the check came, Maggie was relieved. The night hadn’t gone at all as she’d hoped. Sam and Dean could barely stand to look at each other.

Both men reached for the check at the same time.

“I’ve got it,” Sam said, standing and sliding his wallet from his pocket.

Dean’s lips curled. “I can pay for dinner for my girl.”

“Didn’t say you couldn’t, man,” Sam replied breezily, tossing more than his share of cash onto the table. “I think it’s time I get going.”

“Good idea,” Dean snarled. He turned to Maggie. “I’m going to go settle up at the bar.”

Sam watched Dean walk away and then his eyes fell on Maggie. “Mags, are you sure about this guy?”

“Listen, Dean was out of line with that car comment. He never should have brought that up, but—”

Sam huffed.

“I think he’s just intimidated by you. He’s not usually like this.”

“If you say so.” Sam’s gaze drifted to the back of Dean’s head. “It’s just…I don’t know. There’s something off about him. Something I don’t trust.”

Maggie felt herself growing defensive. “I’m just asking you to give him another chance. I think if you two get to know each other—”

“I don’t think I want to know him.”

Maggie crossed her arms over her chest. She wasn’t ready to hear what Sam was trying to tell her.

Not yet. At that time, Dean had still seemed like the answer to all her prayers, the thing that was going to save her from the grim outlook of her life.

“Well, he makes me happy. I’m happy, Sam.

For the first time in God only knows how long.

Dean is a part of my life now, and if you can’t accept that, if you’re telling me you’re not even going to make an effort because of one stupid comment, then…

then I don’t know how this friendship is supposed to work. ”

“Wow. Okay.” He kissed her on the cheek, his lips lingering a touch too long on her skin. “It was good to see you, Maggie.” And then he turned and walked away.

That was the last time Maggie had spoken to her closest friend. She tried calling him the next morning, feeling bad about the way they’d left things, but Sam didn’t answer. And he never called her back.

By the time Maggie realized that Sam had been right about Dean, far too much time had passed. She’d already lost him.

Now, finally, Maggie spots a familiar stretch of road, sees the abandoned gas station. She pulls into the lot, just as she’d done before, and sighs with relief. She never thought she’d be so happy to see a rusty dumpster.

She rushes out of the car, the engine clicking idly in the silent night, falls to her knees beside the dumpster, and shoves away the pile of fallen leaves that had accumulated behind it with both hands.

But the only thing beneath is stained black asphalt, the lingering scent of decay. The drugs are gone.