by R. J. Lewis
For some reason, I believed him.
He gave me no reason to doubt him.
We fell into a tense silence. I watched him, watched what he was doing with all that money. I hadn’t seen this man in so long, and now he was standing here, in my home, scolding me like he had every right to.
“What are you doing here with all that cash?” I found myself asking, cutting straight to the point.
“No,” he suddenly said, harshly, shaking his head at me with disapproval. “You don’t get to question me right now. You’ve got a pile of letters on that counter threatening your eviction and you didn’t utter a damn word to anyone about it.”
I tensed my jaw, not liking the tone of his voice. “The world doesn’t revolve around me, Locke. I’m not going to run for help every time I’m in trouble.”
“Just going to bury your head in the sand and hope it all goes away? There’s at least sixteen letters in there.”
“I know.”
“I’m a lawyer, Charlotte.”
“I. Know.”
“You’re going to have to do a better job at explaining.”
“I’ve been looking for a place and I’ll figure this mess out –”
“No,” he cut in, looking pissed now. “You really are so naïve, aren’t you?”
My lips parted in shock. I glared now in response. “Excuse me?”
“I hate repeating myself, Charlotte, but you seem to be hard of hearing. I’m a lawyer. You should have come to me about this.”
“What is there to say?”
“You have rights.”
I felt lost. “He was serving me eviction letters written from a lawyer, I thought –”
“He’s harassing you. It’s a scare tactic. He wants the house and he thinks he can bully you out of it. The house is in Conor’s name. It rightfully belongs to him, his father made sure of that before he died.”
Now I was just confused. “Why is he doing this then?”
“This house is sitting on a shit ton of currency.”
“The gold, you mean.”
“I think Dave’s run out of money, and he’s targeting you because you’re young and isolated and…so naïve.” His nostrils flared, like he was so damn disappointed in me. “When was the last time you turned to anyone for anything?”
I ignored how rude he was being. “Jem came around a few days ago to take me to a doctor’s appointment.”
Locke stared blankly at me for several long seconds. “You can’t drive?”
My cheeks felt hot. Why did I feel like I was suddenly embarrassed by that?
“I’ve had a few lessons. I can drive, but…finding the time isn’t necessarily a breeze for me right now, Locke. But thanks for judging me.”
A ghost of a smile flickered on his lips. “I’m not judging you.”
“I can see it on your face. This is what you look like.” I mocked his look and then frowned at him. “That was the face of judgment.”
He fought a smile like he was suddenly enjoying our dysfunctional banter. “I just thought you had a network of people there to help you. What happened to Megan?”
“She’s busy with work and Ember lives there now with Lily after she lost her tenancy.”
“She lost another tenancy?”
“Yeah.”
“What is wrong with that woman?”
I shrugged, half-heartedly. “I’m in no place to judge her. I…I didn’t want to bother them after she moved in and add more stress.”
“You can’t do this shit alone.”
“I’ve got Jem.”
His eyes turned icy. “Jem isn’t enough.”
I went quiet, blinking back the sudden weight of emotion behind my eyes. I blinked a few times to clear it and looked down at the floor. “Reaching out isn’t easy.”
If I said anything with a bit of emotion in my voice, Megan or Laura would have crumbled with softness. Even Jem would have been less harsh with me. But Locke looked at me like he truly didn’t give a single fuck. He was so good at making me feel small and insignificant and…stupid for things like not having a driver’s licence. I kind of hated him for a fleeting moment, tempted to tell him to get lost, but at the same time I also felt like I needed to be reprimanded for not reaching out, for ignoring the letters, for having a baby and not even possessing a driver’s licence – which infuriated me because there really had been things that came up that made having a licence not so much a priority. In that moment, I looked back at times I could have obtained that licence, could have been more proactive about the letters, and could have discovered that Dave was blowing smoke up my ass in order to get the house.
A single look from Locke and this was the kind of shit I was thinking about.
I was a young, dumb mother.
Maybe Locke was the perfect candidate to give me the harsh truth. Jem had gone soft, and he wasn’t punishing enough. It occurred to me how important it was for me to be held responsible for what I could not confront.
“Maybe I have put my head in the sand,” I whispered, acknowledging it out loud and cringing for it. Nothing tasted more bitter than facing what I knowingly had turned away from. “I guess I really suck at this independency shit, huh?”
Locke scratched his perfect jaw while moving to the stack of letters he’d torn open. He grabbed a random letter and looked it over before throwing it back down on the pile. Buried in thought, he began to loosen his tie even more, glancing at me a couple times in the process. His face was vacant of emotion. I didn’t know what he was thinking about, didn’t understand why his face lingered on mine for longer than necessary.
I felt so puny and awkward.
Finally, he said, “You spent almost a year pregnant while Thames took care of you and you didn’t maximize that time to your benefit. You had an opportunity to do something, but you ended up working for Jem at his dirty bar instead. Do you have any motivation to get yourself out of shit without expecting someone to come to your rescue?”
I crossed my arms, feeling defensive. “I could scream at you right now, Locke.”
“Why?”
“You’re making it really black and white.”
He seemed confused. “I’m stating facts.”
“I’m not expecting anyone to come to the rescue, you asshole.”
“So, what were you going to do then?”
“I just agreed I was being a little ignorant, and now you’re using it like a weapon. Thanks.”
“Don’t be childish. I’m not using anything as a weapon, and you haven’t answered my question.”
I scowled at his calmness, at how…right he was. My throat felt tight as I was forced to admit, “I wasted the opportunity, but it didn’t feel like it at the time. I guess I relied on Conor to take care of me while I looked after the baby. I guess…” Fuck, this was annoying to confront. “I guess I could have improved my situation even after Penny was born.” Now I went all defensive. “You know, there are a lot of things a person can say in hindsight after they’ve walked a path and stepped over the bumps growing bigger along the way. I still have a shit ton of motivation to turn things around. It’s why I stay up every single night going over my options. Are you happy now, you emotionless jerk?”
“Jerk?” he responded, surprised. “It was asshole moments ago.”
I raised my chin, defiant. “I can keep going if you’d like.”
He didn’t answer straightaway. He watched me huffing and puffing in front of him with such intrigue, it made me conscious of how quickly I had deteriorated in front of him.
“Oh, Charlotte,” he murmured then, gravely, an unhappy look on his face. “You really have no idea who you’re talking to, do you?”
Oh, but I did.
Locke had a reputation. I’d already suspected he was worse than Conor and Jem combined, but I heard stories around town, too. The stories were so morbid and wrong, you couldn’t expect the acts to come from a well-dressed lawyer with his kind of charm. But moments like these, alone with the
guy, I sensed it.
On a deeper level, I knew they were true.
“You gonna hurt me, Locke?” I asked, boldly.
Seeming annoyed suddenly, his jaw tensed. “No, Charlotte, you’re strictly off-limits to me. In another lifetime, well…” He didn’t finish, leaving me to connect the dots just fine on my own.
It reminded me of the first time we’d met.
When he said I was more his type than Conor’s.
I felt the heat of his gaze rush to my cheeks. My face burned, and he noticed. I saw the smug look in his eye. I wasn’t immune to the asshole, never had been, either, but at least I was protected behind the wall of Conor.
I watched him turn and finish putting the last of the money through the counting machine. With his back to me, he said, “So, this is what’s going to happen, Charlotte, and I want you to listen carefully. I’m going to bail you out of your bills, and I’m going to put you through school. That includes putting your baby in a full-time daycare, if it comes to that. I’m going to give you that chance you’ve stayed up nights stewing over, but it comes with conditions.”
Now he turned to glance at me, a sinister look in his eye. It was all wrong.
This guy was so wrong.
“I don’t want your charity, Locke,” I bravely replied.
He didn’t stop staring at me. “Charlotte,” he warned, “did I ask?”
I pressed my lips together, feeling uneasy. “Please, Locke.”
“This isn’t charity,” he replied, slowly. “I’m not parting with my money so you can burn through it doing some useless degree. I’m giving you a lifeline, and you’re not going to find another one elsewhere. Do you want it, or should I grab my pile of cash and fuck off?”
I glanced at the cash and then at him. I knew there was going to be a catch. There was always a catch. Why did I feel like I was going to be selling my soul to this smug suited asshole if I agreed?
With a soft sigh, I dreaded my next question. “What are the conditions, Locke?”
Looking satisfied, he slowly slid his tie off and chucked it on the counter. He didn’t look elsewhere as he started to unbutton his shirt. My heart started speeding in my chest and my mind went crazy with wild ideas.
Surely not.
He wouldn’t expect anything indecent to happen between us. I wouldn’t allow it, no way.
He slid the top off and my breath caught in my throat as he slowly filled the gap between us. Stopping in front of me, he demanded, “What I want is your complete and utter compliance. What happens between us stays between us.
“Starting now.”
Change happened swiftly after Locke left that night. I felt like he left and took a chunk of my innocence with him.
It would be like that often, though.
I would come to get used to it.
Used to the abrupt visits.
Sometimes they were daunting.
Sometimes they made me cry.
Sometimes they… terrified me.
I learned Locke’s secrets, and I felt my heart crash in my chest when the texts began to trickle in. Texts that forced me out of my comfort zone and made me dread what I would find when I saw him.
I need you, Charlotte.
And nothing was ever the same again.
Without Conor, every moment felt unshared and half as full.
But there was a point…a point in time when the pieces started to slide in place, when you start to realize that you had to love the present fiercely and let the past go.
Moments like when Penny let go of the park bench and took her first steps to me, clapping her hands and giggling infectiously. Moments when I scooped her up from the ground after she fell and cried for me. Moments when she looked up at me with stars in her light brown eyes and said, “Mama, up.”
In those moments, drawn to loving the present, I wanted to slow time down. I wanted to remember her happy and in love with me. I locked those moments away in a treasure box inside my soul, so that whenever I felt broken, I could fix the crack with a memory of a gummy smile and the fierce love I saw in Penny’s eyes.
And time went on.
We had our own routine, Penny and I. She had her own room, but she slept in my bed. She woke me up every morning with a kick to my face, or the weight of her body sprawled over my abdomen like I was her pillow. We cooked breakfast every morning. Her favourite meal was pancakes with Nutella, or Nutella on bread, or Nutella full stop. We got dressed from the same closet where his clothes still lived like he’d never been gone.
We walked to the stop and took the bus every morning. I half-listened to my music, and she sang the alphabet every chance she got at full volume for everyone to hear.
“A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J, K, ELEMENO, P.”
She always fought me before we got to pre-school. Always stomped her tiny foot on the ground and begged me to stay, or to come to work with me (Locke wasn’t unkind about her being in the office with me). The neat ponytail of hers would be destroyed during her temper tantrum, and I would be late to work.
Again, and again.
I noticed her fierceness long before she learned to speak, and I recognized the side she got it from. Her tiny little hands would fist in anger, and while everyone chuckled and thought it was cute, I stared at her with worry in my heart.
Those days I usually found myself having panic attacks in the car with Jem. He was giving me occasional driving lessons, much to Locke’s irritation. I’d put it off so much, he’d scolded me, even ambushing me with driving instructors.
But it was Jem that I wanted. He was so casual with me now, not a single bit of awkwardness between us. He’d have his legs kicked up on the dashboard, chomping on bits of jerky as he ordered me to drive around deserted parking lots or brand-new suburban developments where residents were too busy selling their souls at work to cover the mortgage.
“I don’t get you,” he chastised, shaking his head. “We’ve been doing this for weeks now and you still suck.”
“Which parts suck?” I snapped, gripping the steering wheel tight as I came to a harsh halt before the stop sign. I pretended to be curt, but I was actually quite happy to spend time with him so long as it didn’t mean being alone.
“Your braking leaves much to be desired, sweetheart.”
“I’m doing my best, Jem.”
“You’re supposed to come to a rolling stop. A smooth stop. You keep pressing down on the brake like you’re trying to stomp a fire out.”
“I’ve got a heavy foot.”
“You weigh like ten pounds.”
“Yeah, it’s in my foot.”
He grinned, shaking his head at me. “You’re a fucking goof. I can’t stand it.”
His cheerfulness melted away the anxiety attacks and made me smile broadly in return. I turned the corner a little too tightly. “I just think some people have the gift for driving, and some people don’t. And really, what’s wrong with public transportation?”
“Yeah, you get to witness some of Blackwater’s finest.”
“That’s right.” I nodded, a little too excitedly. “Last week a man stepped on the bus with a dead bird on his shoulder. The bird’s name was Wilson.”
“Was he calling him Wilson? Is that how you found out his fucking name?”
“No, Penny asked him.”
His eyes widened. “You let your daughter ask a deranged man on a bus with a dead bird on his shoulder the name of said dead bird?”
“Yes, I did. Well, anyway, he was sweet. They talked a lot and for the first time in so long, Penny didn’t throw a tantrum on the way to school.”
“Huh.” Jem took a moment to absorb my words, looking half-impressed, half-disturbed. “I’m trying to figure out the meaning of your story right now, Charlotte, but I’m kinda struggling.”
“We’ve had a lot of meaningful encounters riding the bus. You can’t pretend to know the people in town by brushing past them without some sort of exchange.”
“I own a bar, remember?�
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“Then you know what I’m talking about.”
He looked unconvinced. “You’ve worked there. You know the people that come and go. They’re all the same after a while, Charlotte. People are all the same, wherever you go. I don’t find it exciting, and I don’t think Penny should be talking to old men with dead birds on their shoulders. I’m kinda curious how he got it to stick on his shoulder, by the way, and did the bird smell?”
I laughed lightly. “It was one time. I was using it as an example.”
“Keep that example close to your chest. Imagine what Conor would say if he knew.”
My smile faded, and silence filled the car. I felt Jem watch me carefully, gauging my response.
“We shouldn’t forget him,” he added softly.
“Not trying to,” I whispered in return, feeling my heart climb up my throat.
Still watching me intently, he asked, “Are you waiting for him, Charlotte?”
“Yes.”
“Even if he wants you to move on?”
I nodded again. “Yes.”
He frowned. “Then you might as well be locked in there with him.”
Yeah, I might as well have been.
For a few minutes we rode in silence, but I felt his gaze on me, felt what I knew was curiosity growing.
“Out with it,” I demanded when I came to another hard stop.
He didn’t make fun of it. His eyes narrowed instead as he cleared his throat and awkwardly said, “I’m hearing stories around town, sweetheart.”
I didn’t bother to keep driving. I turned to him, foot still on the brake. My brows shot up, expectantly. “Okay, and?”
“Stories of you and Locke.”
My belly flip-flopped with nerves. I continued waiting, hiding the way my bones stiffened. “What sort of stories?”
“People keep seeing you around with him.”
I rolled my eyes, trying to play it off. “I work part-time for him, Jem, and it’ll go full-time once I’m done school. It’s inevitable people will be seeing me around him.”
“They say they’re seeing you and him at…really odd hours.”
“What’s an odd hour?” Why was I stoking the fire asking?