Broken – Kaye Blakely

F 1 NE W YORK C I T Y rancine had asked her son (Daniel) and his girlfriend (Melody) to the event. They’d flown in from sunny Georgia to witness one of the biggest events the company had ever put forward. With headline acts, multiple motivational speakers, a charity auction, and a concert to finish, everyone who was anyone had wanted a ticket to the well-media-covered event. In fact, authors, famous musicians, entrepreneurs, and other interested businesses had purchased multiple tickets, and the number was a tally of five thousand and fifty-nine. Francine was one of those power-type women. Middle-aged; in her late fifties, but you wouldn’t have known it just by looking at her. You would have guessed perhaps late thirties or early forties, mostly because of the way she’d maintained herself. A magazine had written that fact about her in its Springtime edition. Francine’s son had been somewhat of a disappointment to her, though, mostly because he liked being a mechanic, all while she’d been a high-flying and assertive gogetter, and despite his overly expensive education. In her horror, he’d still chosen to remain “broke” and “blue-collared,” as she’d called it, in her interview with the same very-popular magazine. Melody, Daniel’s girlfriend, well she’d become known as a ‘little trinket’ that was a little too ‘new-agey’ for Francine. And she’d said that in a similar magazine for all the world to hear, seemingly unafraid of the consequences it might have within her own relationship with her son and his partner. On multiple telephone conversations, she’d told Daniel her feelings on the matter. Actually, she’d used an array of different and descriptive words; simple, plain, non-ambitional (a word she’d made up just to make a point). She’d also mentioned Melody as being non-communicative, of poor breeding, and predictably unkempt, among other things.

And Daniel had shown a deeper tone of velocity to his mother about the words she’d used. He’d raised his voice and called her out for being judgmental, unfair, rude, snobby, and even vindictive. There’d been enough verbs for around a year though, in his good opinion. But Francine never seemed to care about his ‘revolutionary ideas,’ as she’d called them. But even still, and despite their strange and unusual relationship, the mother and son were civil, at least. The gala had been a wonderful success, with Francine insisting that Daniel and Melody mingle for a while afterward, and so that she could make sure to thank everyone before they left for the evening. The pair had smiled; openly reciprocated, more likely because of the pushiness of the always-getting-her-way dominatrix that Francine was, and less likely because they actually wanted to meet any big names or create false connections with businesses, or any other type of motive. Melody had said it to Daniel on a few occasions during their relationship. She’d say, “It’s as if your mother has some weird ulterior motive up her sleeve, and I just don’t understand why that is.” And Daniel would smile his wide smile and then turn it into a grin. He’d say, “The only ulterior motive I care about, is my ulterior motive with you, Baby Girl.” Melody would react to his name for her by biting her lip quite obviously, without having realized she was even doing it. And Daniel would react to that by licking his lips, in a hungry, greedy, I’m comin’ to get you kinda way. And so, it became a thing, this explicit deliciousness in their Georgia apartment. Melody had called it a deliciousness many times over, especially when she’d described it to Lolita.

Sometimes the deliciousness had occurred in the candlelight of their bedroom, or on the linoleum floor of the kitchen, and other times atop the dining table, or even on the warmth of the carpet of the living room floor. The conversations never really seemed to be about the mother though, but instead, a chance to be intimate with one another, for long and arduous, or slow, sensual sessions of passionate, mind-blowingly-breathtaking lovemaking. The moans and grunts had always become louder as the two explored one another… all beginning because of a wry comment about Francine or something else equally trivial. Other questions and comments that might have seemed like trouble in a regular vanilla relationship had also sparked crazy lovemaking, too. Like, “Did you put out the trash?” or, “Why weren’t you home when you said you’d be home?” The ground had been sprinkled with a shower of summer rain while the Gala had been on. The scent of petroleum and the enigma of the traffic noises were making their presence known in the business of the streets nearby. The Gala had been a long time coming for Francine’s publishing company, and the charities it had been supporting were monumental, including some of the biggest names and brandings within the USA. Daniel and Melody had followed behind Francine after the evening had come to an end. Francine had a skip in her step, despite her 9-inch, red stiletto high heels. The lovers were in a world of their own, in their bliss, fully focused upon each other. The night was now over, and the generosity from the event had been remarkable. A cool twenty million dollars raised for children’s charity, and great entertainment had made the energy feel wonderful. Francine was about twenty yards away from the two lovers as she rushed to her car. She was walking briskly to get there. She’d told the pair how she’d wanted to arrive at her apartment quickly, just so she could get up early and read The Tribute, a dedicated business-socialite press release which came out monthly.

It was the who’s-who of news, and the most up and coming would see it and know more about the publishing company and its endeavors. The piece would be written by a column writer by the name of Miranda Lewis. She had a popular following, and an array of fans for her efforts on children’s rights. It might even get front page; Francine had been told. The two lovers grew closer, and by the time they reached Francine’s BMW, the struggle had already begun. “MOM!” Daniel yelled out loudly. Someone was in the backseat of the car, grabbing frantically at Francine with wild intention, holding her throat and wielding a hessian sack that was now waving in the small space above her head. Daniel could see her gasping for air and so he rushed to get to his mother’s aid. Unfortunately, the doors had been locked from the inside, and the darkness from the man’s eyes said he meant business. He was trying to hurt her properly. It was a violent scene occurring in real time, as if it’d come from a movie set. “FUCK! Mel, call the cops, NOW. Mom’s being attacked.” Mel’s face already knew what was happening, and she made the call quickly as Daniel tried to progress through the thick glass with his right, purposeful fist. “GET OFF HER, FUCK!” Daniel called out as he broke the glass, managing to pull the door open from the inside.

The hessian sack was already over his mother’s face, and there was barely any movement or struggle coming from her. Daniel made his way to the back seat and began pounding into the wiry man, who seemed to have a smirk as Daniel was hitting into him. At first, Daniel pulled his hands from Francine’s neck, and then he split his lip with a quick one-two, a masterful punch he’d learned at boxing training. Daniel’s expertise was superb, as if it pushed the wind out of the man more quickly, and so Daniel continued punching, even after there was no movement coming from the man who’d just brutally attacked his mother. In a split second, and after he’d done a last punch into the man’s head, he reached with bloodied hands to remove the sack from his mother’s unmoving body. And there she sat, very still, and Daniel began to move her out of the vehicle to begin compressions. “The paramedics are coming too. I called them right after the cops,” Mel said, with shakiness in her voice. “Oh God, here they come.” Daniel was too busy to answer. He was desperately trying to save Francine, who remained lifeless on the coolness of the ground. He cried out in exhaustion, “BREATHE, dammit! BREATHE!!!!” The paramedics came to the scene quickly and the police arrived about two minutes later. Daniel was wrapped in a blanket and taken to the hospital under police guard, until the cops could ascertain what had really gone on that evening. Mel was escorted straight to the police station to give her account of events, and then she’d showered and freshened herself quickly at the motel before calling a cab to go and see Daniel at the hospital. “There’s no one here by that name Miss…?” “Nixon,” Mel said quickly.

“Oh, hold on, yes, he was here earlier, but he’s been discharged it seems.” The confusion on Melody’s face was obvious by the next statement of a younger clerk. “He was wearing a black suit and grey tie. A Mr. Bridges?” the clerk asked, smiling kindly. “Yes, yes,” Melody answered. “Brown hair, brown eyes.” The younger clerk chuckled. “He was hard to miss, Miss! Such a good-looking…” “Natalia!” said the older clerk. “Just state the facts, please. Do not pay any mind. She’s still in training.” The younger clerk smiled. “They took him into custody.” “Custody?” asked Mel.

Her face looked even more confused than it had earlier. By now it was 4am. “Shit.


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Updated: 15 September 2021 — 03:22

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