"One day," I agree.
We enjoy our meal and discuss other things that don't revolve around bribes and murder. We talk like friends, and this I like a lot. There's no doubt that once this period of my life starts receding into the distance, Dennis Flaherty will remain a friend to me and Sela. I hope Dennis can find love again, because he deserves to have what I've found.
The day is half over and it's been productive so far. I have my attorney working on the necessary paperwork to get JT out of my business. Dennis is taking care of the payoff to VanZant. And this evening, Caroline and Ally are coming to dinner. Actually, I'm going to take Ally out to dinner and Caroline and Sela are going to talk over wine and cheese. Or maybe pizza and beer, who knows.
This was Sela's idea. She wants Caroline to know what happened to her and that she now has someone she can talk to about it. Someone who understands the pain, humiliation, and self-hatred. I have no idea how much Sela will tell her. She's not sure herself and said she'd play it by ear, but whatever she chooses to reveal, I'm sure it will be exactly the right amount. Caroline is someone I trust with my life, and Sela knows her secrets and can be trusted with her as well.
And then all that's left to do is to wait and see what JT decides to do.
Beck calls me again and I let it ring through to voice mail. He called about ten minutes ago and I didn't answer, knowing he would hear the tension in my voice. Knowing that I wouldn't be able to lie to him when he asked where I was. I listened to his first voice mail, my heart twinging with guilt that I'm avoiding him, but I know he'd go crazy if he knew I was sitting in JT's driveway right now.
I have no business being here. It's stupid and illogical, but I can't fucking help myself. Maybe I need to stand in his presence one more time before he goes down, or maybe I feel like I could help urge him along to make the right decision. Whatever the insanity of my reason, here I am and here I will remain until I hear what he has to say.
Beck's first voice mail to me was simple and sweet.
"Hey babe...just finished lunch with Dennis and on my way home. Wanted to know if you needed anything while I was out. Call me if you do, otherwise see you in about fifteen, twenty minutes."
That was half an hour ago, and I would bet my last dollar that the voice mail he just left is wondering where the hell I am. I'm sure he's at the condo now, flummoxed that I'm not there when I should be and didn't leave a note as to when I'd be back. Not that he keeps track of me or anything, but it's just a common courtesy we've offered each other since we started living together. If I'm going out, I'll leave him a note. He does the same for me.
I didn't do it this time, not because I was afraid of the lie, but merely because I was so distracted with thoughts of JT and what he could possibly want to talk to me about, I just didn't think about it as I left the condo and locked up behind me.
But that's done and Beck is just going to have to wait for me to come home tonight and tell him what I've been doing. He's going to go nuts, and I expect it will lead to a massively huge fight. This is unfortunate, because Caroline's coming over to talk, and it's going to suck if Beck's pissed at me, but oh well. He'll get over it eventually.
JT's home is beautiful, but I expected no less given his spending habits. It's three levels done in a dark gray plank siding with brown trim. The driveway is paved in cobblestone and curves past a raised garden bed filled with bushes and small flowering trees that provide privacy. I can glimpse the bay between his house and the one next to it.
Sucking in a lungful of oxygen, I turn the car off and exhale slowly before exiting. I grab my purse, hitch it over my shoulder, and nervously tuck my hair behind my ears. My pulse is thundering, not at the prospect of seeing JT, but of him possibly recognizing me, and I suppose that will happen within the first few moments of him seeing me.
I step onto the front porch, but before I can even raise my hand to ring the bell, the massive carved wooden door opens and I'm standing face-to-face with JT. Although Beck described his appearance to me, I'm still shocked by his appearance. Deep purple with tinges of green covers most of his face, and his jaw is swollen and bruised. A cut is sutured on one cheek and his lower lip is scabbed. His left arm is in a cast, which he gingerly supports against his ribs.
I take all of this in even as I watch JT examining my new hair color. His eyebrows raise a tad in surprise, but otherwise he doesn't seem to recognize the girl he once raped all those years ago. In fact, he doesn't comment about my appearance and merely steps back while motioning me inside.
"Thanks for coming," he says by way of greeting, but it sounds hollow and wooden.
I step into his house, which immediately opens up into a great room that overlooks the bay with peaked ceilings and large windows. The floors are covered in blond wood polished to a high sheen. His furniture is contemporary, done in silver, mauve, and black with chrome accents.
JT turns his back on me and veers off a short hall to the right. "Let's go back in my den. The furniture's more comfortable in there."
Clutching my purse a bit tighter to me, I follow JT. He moves slowly and there's no doubt he's in pain from his beating. Even as nervous as I am to be here, seeing him like this brings me a small measure of joy.
He enters another large room that sits at the back of the house, also with large windows to take in the beauty of the bay and the San Francisco skyline, but here the furniture is a bit more transitional and definitely more comfortable looking. JT's clearly been spending time on the sumptuous-looking couch because there's a pillow and a blanket lying there.
As I take in my surroundings, JT walks over to a bar and pours himself a glass of what appears to be bourbon. He doesn't look at me but asks, "Want something to drink?"
"I'm good," I say, pleased that my voice sounds strong and calm, even as my heart is thumping hard over being in such close proximity to him. "So what did you want to talk to me about?"
JT tilts the glass back, slugs down the liquor he just poured, and pours another two fingers. When he turns back to look at me, he merely leans back against the bar and says, "Did Beck tell you everything?"
There's no sense in lying, but no need for details either. "Just that you lost a bet and needed money fast. Judging by the look of you, I'm guessing that's true."
JT grimaces and nods, cutting right to the chase. His voice is bitter when he says, "I can't give up The Sugar Bowl, Sela. It's all I have. I called Beck's dad last night and asked him for the money, but he declined. I'm out of options and you're sort of my last resort. I'm hoping you could talk to Beck on my behalf."
This is interesting news...that JT went to Mr. North. Even more relieving that he kept his word and turned down JT.
JT looks at me with hopeful eyes and I find it utterly ironic that he's coming to me for help. I try to keep my tone neutral when I say, "Beck's mind seemed made up. I'm not sure what I could do."
"Oh, cut the shit," JT growls as he stands straighter. Waving the glass he holds in his good hand at me, causing some bourbon to slosh out, he says, "You hold a lot of power over Beck and don't pretend otherwise. But you are right...I think his mind is made up, but I bet you could sway him if you wanted, and I have a counterproposal that will interest him."
But I don't want to sway him, asshole. I want you to suffer.
"What could that possibly be?" I ask, because this is the real reason I'm here. I need to know what JT may have up his sleeve, and it has to be something if he thinks it will change Beck's mind.
JT downs the rest of the liquor and sets the glass on the bar behind him. When he turns back to me, his eyes are cold and calculating. "I'm prepared to renounce my inheritance rights to the North fortune. I've even had my attorney draft up a proposed agreement if Beck will loan me the money to get me out of my current jam and let me retain my rights in The Sugar Bowl."
I can't help the sudden gasp of surprise or the way my eyes open wide over JT's statement. It's a dead giveaway that Beck has indeed told me all there is to know.
"But how?" I mutter. If Beck's dad is to be believed, he never told JT.
"My mother," JT says simply. "She told me years ago. Wanted me to know so I could claim what was rightfully mine one day."
Holy shit. He knows. He knows Beck is his brother, and by the looks of it, he's got his sights set on the North money.
"That won't change his mind," I whisper, because I know without a doubt it won't. Beck doesn't give a shit about his father's money.
"Bullshit," JT yells at me, his face turning red underneath the purple bruises. He takes a step toward me and snarls, "You could persuade him. You fucking hold his nuts in your greedy little hands."
I take a wary step back, clutching my purse tighter. JT's face is a mask of livid rage as he matches my movement. My pulse skitters away from me as I consider making a running break out of this house. "I think you need to discuss this with Beck. Maybe this will sway him, but I shouldn't be involved with this."
I take another step back but JT's words freeze me in place just by the sheer hatred in his tone as he rasps, "You fucking bitch. This is all because of you. Beck changed the minute you walked into his life, and I frankly can't understand what in the hell he sees in a whore like you."
By all accounts, I should turn and get the hell away from this enraged man who had once hurt me so badly I didn't think I'd ever recover. But instead, anger swells up and I stand my ground with the knowledge I have a gun to protect me if needed. "You asshole," I sneer at him. "This is all on you. You made stupid decisions and now you need to man up and accept the consequences, you jackass."
It's almost as if a pool of red-hot fury fills JT's eyes and his jaw tightens so hard I'm expecting him to crack teeth. I think for a moment he might tell me to get out of his house, but instead he starts to walk toward me in almost a zombielike fashion, his right hand curled into a tight fist as his chest rises and falls sharply. I know without a doubt he's overwhelmed with rage at the situation and with me, and he intends to lash out...probably physically. Before he can reach me though, my hand dips into my purse and I pull out my gun, holding it aimed directly at his heart.
He stops in midstride and his eyes slowly slide to the gun. I expect him to be cowed, but instead when he looks back at me his lips curl upward and he taunts, "Going to shoot me, Sela?"
"You take another step closer, and I will," I tell him with a quavering voice. "Now I'm going to leave--"
"You won't do it," he says softly, talking right over me. His voice so assured, he starts moving toward me again. Deliberate steps without a stutter of caution in them.
Almost a cocky swagger.
He looks utterly deranged and my hand starts shaking as my finger tightens on the trigger.
"I dare you," JT whispers, and then gives a husky laugh. "I dare you to fucking do it, Sela."
My hand shakes harder and he's only two steps away from me.
"Go on," he urges me softly, putting one foot in front of the other. "You know you want to."
Tears sting at my eyes because the urge to pull the trigger is so intense, and yet my moral conscience isn't letting me do it. It's not letting me fucking avenge myself nor protect myself.
JT takes the last step and he walks right into the gun until the barrel is pressed into his chest. He laughs at me and says ever so softly, "Can't do it, can you?"
I don't admit defeat though, and bring my other hand up to steady the gun. "If you don't--"
JT moves so suddenly I can't react. His casted arm swings hard, catching me at my wrist and causing my gun to go flying, where it clatters across the hardwood floors. JT's good hand--and I find out quickly enough it's his dominant hand because it's brutally strong--wraps around the front of my throat.
"You goddamn filthy cunt," he screams at me, spit flying from his mouth and spattering on my face. With his hand clamped tightly on my throat, he marches me backward across the floor. "Think you can come into my life and fuck with what's mine?"
My butt slams into something and I vaguely recall a large desk sitting catercorner. Although my momentum is stopped, JT's isn't and he pushes me right onto the desk with his hand on my throat. He leans his entire body weight into me...against me...and vomit rises in my throat that his body's touching mine.
I bend backward until my spine hits the desk, JT coming to lay on top of me. For added leverage, he places his casted arm across my chest. Scenes from my rape flash before me, except now I can see JT's face in my memory as clear as day. Now that I know who he is, I can see his ugly face twisted in sickening pleasure as he pumps away on top of me. Both my hands come up to latch on to his wrist in a desperate attempt to dislodge his grip. My legs start kicking furiously, trying to get purchase on the hardwood floor, but just the tips of my sneakers can touch and won't grab hold to give me leverage.
As he leans in toward me, JT's face twists into an ugly grimace and the reeking fumes of alcohol wash across my face. "You're still a mess, Sela."
Those words...
You're a mess.
Still a mess...
My eyes go round with understanding and JT nods vigorously at me, his cracked lips peeling back, stretching so tight in a macabre smile that they start to ooze blood. "That's right, Sela. Did you think the brown hair would throw me off? Think I wouldn't recognize that face...that mouth...that throat that swallowed my cum? One of the best fucks I've ever had and you didn't think I wouldn't remember that?"
I go dizzy at the implication, my lungs deflating with the realization that JT knows who I am.
He. Knows. Who. I. Am.
"I didn't see it right away," JT whispers, his face hovering just over mine. "Not that night at the mixer. But in Beck's office...in the clear light of day, and frankly, I was sober then...I saw it. Knew exactly who you were, and I had to wonder why in the fuck you'd bother to come back into my life."
"You sick fuck," I scream at him, trying to buck but having no leverage. "Get off me."
JT's hand tightens on my throat, his cast pushing harder on my chest. My lungs compress and I fight to drag in a tiny breath of precious oxygen.
"I have to assume you told Beck all about our interlude at that party, right?" JT taunts. "Otherwise, why would he be so determined to get me out of The Sugar Bowl?"
I try to shake my head in the negative, feed him a lie so that perhaps he doesn't see me as a threat, but he merely responds by gripping me harder.
"I have to admit," he says, eyes wild with fevered craze. "You're in a very tempting position. I could fuck you raw right now and not a damn thing you could do about it."
"Get off," I wheeze, my vision starting to go blurry.
He ignores me, shifts his weight. For a brief and blessed moment, his hand relaxes and I drag in air that feels like razors against my bruised neck. But he merely moves his casted arm upward and places it at the base my throat and presses down. My hands release his wrist and move to the cast, trying to push him off. "But I don't have time for that. I've got bigger problems...namely that you're a major threat to my existence. Why you haven't gone to the cops yet is beyond me, but fuck if I'll take that chance now."
He leans his weight on me. A gray haze starts to crowd my peripheral vision and an image of Beck's face flashes before me.
"One more thing I want you to know before I end you," JT says in a soft voice...almost lovingly. "Surely you know you're not my first, and definitely weren't my last. In these next few moments, when I'm choking the life out of you, I want you to go with the knowledge that you're not the only girl of Beck's who caught my attention. Sweet Caroline was a lovely piece that I just couldn't resist, and she put up a much bigger fight than you ever did, which made it all the better for me."
My eyes flare wide and a surge of anger pulses through me as I understand what he's saying.
God...JT raped Caroline? He's All
y's father?
"That's right," he says with a laugh as he reads the expression on my face. "Slipped her a little Rohypnol in her drink at her parents' Christmas party, followed her home, and when her date dropped her off, she was easy pickings."
I growl against the weight of his cast on my throat, narrowing my eyes at him with hatred. As incomprehensible as it is, I have no choice but to believe him. I try to pull in air but get nothing. My hands release my hold on his cast, and I start to flail in a desperate attempt to do something. Find something to help me live through this, and avenge not only myself but Caroline as well.
But as the lack of oxygen starts to shut my body down, the gray gets darker, I feel myself starting to give in to the pull of oblivion.
I glance at the clock on the mantel for maybe the hundredth time, the nauseating feeling of unease that's been steadily increasing over the last hour threatening to expel the Michael Mina scallops. I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial Sela again. It rings only twice before going directly to voice mail, but I don't bother leaving another message. She'll get the point I'm worried when she listens to the other two I've left.
I have no clue where she is or why she hasn't responded to me, but this is what I do know. Her last class got out at one P.M., just about the time I was with Dennis. She had told me that morning she had planned to come back to the condo and do some studying here, and we knew that Caroline and Ally would be arriving roughly around four thirty or so, depending on the drive after Caroline got off work and picked Ally up from preschool. When I got home around two thirty, it was to an empty condo.
Fine. No problem. Maybe Sela decided to study at Golden Gate's library. She does that sometimes. Or maybe she went to the grocery store. Not out of the realm of possibility, although we tend to eat out more than we cook in.
Still, plausible possibilities and I know I shouldn't worry.
Except I am, because the one thing Sela wouldn't do is ignore my calls. She would have texted me her change of plans. And if she was unable to take my first call for some reason, she absolutely would have called me back once she got my first message, which was left almost two hours ago.
Sugar Rush Page 18