Tangled up in Hate

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Tangled up in Hate Page 13

by Charlotte Byrd


  Our baby. His words echo in my mind and I like the way they sound.

  I nod. He kneels down before me and takes my hand in his.

  “Harley, I am so, so sorry about everything.”

  His hand cradles mine and he brings it to his lips as he speaks.

  “Please come back to me. Please give me another chance. I love you. More than anything in the world.”

  I want to tell him that I love him, too, but something is holding me back. I open my mouth, but I can’t physically say the words.

  Perhaps, it’s too soon.

  Maybe it’s because I need more of an explanation.

  I pull Jackson up to his feet and wrap my arms around him. We stand there in our embrace for a few moments before I pull away.

  “C’mon, let’s get out of this bathroom,” I say.

  He follows me back into the main room.

  Detective Richardson, Julie, and Martin all have the same expression on their face.

  They have been spying on us this whole time, but now they are pretending that they were talking about something else altogether.

  “Well, I best be going,” Detective Richardson says and no one stops her.

  I thank her for her update, even though I think she could’ve just as easily used a phone or better yet, a text message.

  The kind of news she delivered wasn’t exactly uplifting and sometimes bad news is a lot easier to stomach at a distance.

  After she leaves, Martin and Julie don’t hang around much longer.

  Martin pulls me aside and asks me if I’m comfortable staying alone with Jackson and then takes Julie by the arm and escorts her to dinner.

  For once, I’m glad that our apartment is so small that it forces people to leave it in order to give us privacy. I doubt we could’ve cleared everyone out so quickly from Jackson’s mansion.

  “We’re alone now,” Jackson says. “Finally.”

  I nod and shrug my shoulders all the way up to my ears.

  “You’re not going to tell me what you’re thinking, are you?” he asks after a moment.

  “The thing is that I don’t really know what I’m thinking.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s all very…complicated.”

  “This whole time I just wanted you to give me a chance to explain. That’s why I broke into your house. That’s why I hid in there. For a chance to set things right.”

  I furrow my brow.

  I believe him, but his reasoning doesn’t really make any sense.

  Jackson paces back and forth.

  I watch him walk from one side of the apartment to another.

  Suddenly, he stops.

  “Can I tell you a story?” he asks. I nod.

  “A long time ago, I met a man named Andrew Lindell.”

  That’s how Jackson dives into the past. He tells me about growing up with his parents, about the gambling debts, about trying to find money to grow his business.

  He tells me about everything that he never told me about before and I listen. The more he talks, the more I learn about this man who I thought I knew.

  Now, it looks like what I used to know about has barely scratched the surface of everything he was.

  At the end, his voice gets quieter, and becomes barely audible. I lean closer to him, certain that I must not have heard him correctly.

  “You own how much of Minetta now?”

  “Nineteen percent,” he repeats himself.

  I shake my head.

  “Why did you sign so much of it over?”

  “I had no choice.”

  “So, what now?” I ask.

  “Now, they are forcing me to stay on or they will fire everyone there. Now, I have to figure out some way to get rid of Lindell. Once and for all.”

  38

  Jackson

  When I tell her everything…

  To make amends for every mistake and bad call, I sit on the couch next to Harley and answer all of her questions.

  I tell her about anything and everything and don’t hesitate for a moment.

  I have nothing to hide.

  She listens.

  Nods.

  And then keeps asking the same question over and over again.

  “But why? Why couldn’t you just take me aside and tell me what was going on?”

  I explain it over and over. The more I talk, the less I believe myself.

  “It had to be a surprise, Harley. I couldn’t tell you what was really going on. I couldn’t go into any of that. If they had questioned you, then they would’ve known immediately.”

  “You don’t give me enough credit.”

  “You don’t know these people.”

  “You don’t think I could’ve kept your secret?”

  “That’s not what I meant and you know that,” I insist.

  She shakes her head.

  “I wouldn’t have told them about you.”

  “They wouldn’t have asked nicely.”

  We go in circles without resolving one thing.

  But this conversation is not really about a resolution.

  It’s about reaching an understanding.

  She has to understand what I was dealing with and I have to understand how much I had hurt her.

  “Looking back? What do you think?” she asks. “Was it a mistake?”

  I shrug and look down at the floor. “I didn’t know what they knew. All I wanted was for them to never know they had this bargaining chip.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You. If they knew that I cared about you then they would’ve taken you. They would’ve used you. They did anyway. So, it all sort of blew up in my face. But back then, I had no idea what would happen.”

  We sit in silence for a while, just looking at each other.

  I try to read her face, but she keeps her expression stoic and tucked neatly away in a box that’s deep below the surface.

  My thoughts drift away from us and to the news that she had just shared. My lips form into a smile.

  “What?” she asks. “Why are you smiling?”

  “Just thinking about the baby.”

  “And?”

  “And…I’m really excited. It’s amazing.”

  She straightens her back. Her eyes dart to mine.

  “You are?” Her lips soften and part.

  I pull myself closer to her on the couch. I take her hands in mine. They fold into my palms to make a perfect fit.

  I rub my thumbs over hers, lingering over the smoothness of her dark red nails.

  “I never thought that I would want to have another child,” I say slowly. “If you had brought up the idea of it, I would’ve probably said no, I don’t want any more children. But when you told me that you were pregnant, everything was different.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It was no longer this possibility of what might happen in the future. It was what was already happening. And this reality made me happy.”

  She narrows her eyes, as if she doesn’t quite believe me.

  “I don’t think I’m saying it right,” I backtrack. I take a moment to collect my thoughts.

  “What surprised me was how I felt in the moment when you told me that you were pregnant. My heart just filled with joy. And that was the most unexpected thing.”

  Finally, she smiles.

  Her lips part slightly and her eyes twinkle. After giving me a little nod, she drops her head on my shoulder.

  “When I first found out, I was really scared.”

  “Yeah, I can imagine.”

  “We weren’t together and I wasn’t sure if I was ever going to see you again. I didn’t really want to.”

  “Of course not.”

  “Just the prospect of raising this baby on my own…I didn’t think I could do it. And even if I could I didn’t really want to.”

  “I understand.”

  We don’t say anything for a while. I just hold her and wait.

  “I hate to admit it, but the
only thing I was thinking about at that time was me. I just felt so sorry for myself. I thought that being a mother would mean the end of everything. The end of all of my dreams, all of my goals. People say that you can have it all, but I couldn’t imagine myself having it all. I mean, how could I have time to write if I had a baby?”

  “You must have been terrified.”

  “Plus, on top of all that, I was really sick. And that was messing with my head big time. It’s hard to think clearly and make a decision one way or another when you are sick to your stomach all day and all night long. I was sleep deprived and nauseated and I couldn’t even make it to the next day let alone imagine what it would be like to have this baby on my own and deal with a child for years to come.”

  “I’m so sorry you were alone through all of this,” I whisper, kissing the top of her head.

  “But I got some medication which made things better. I’m still tired all the time and I feel nauseous every morning and I have very little energy but it’s…manageable now.”

  “Harley, whatever you need from me, I am here for you.”

  She nods and leans into me more.

  “I mean it.” I tilt her head upward. “I am not sure where we stand as a couple, but I am here for you. I want to help you during this pregnancy. If you want, I’d love for you to move into my house. If you don’t, then I can be here for you anytime you want. I can stay here or rent an apartment next door.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just that. If you don’t want me to stay here with you and you don’t want to move into my house, I can rent a place next to you so I can help you with whatever you may need.”

  “But people live there now?”

  “I’m sure that they can be convinced to leave for the right price.”

  She starts to laugh.

  “What? What’s so funny?”

  “For a second there, I forgot that you were rich,” she says, smiling.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, also starting to laugh.

  “Well, only a rich person would even think of that as being an option.”

  “What?”

  “Going over to my neighbor’s door, asking them to move out for nine months in exchange for a check.”

  I shrug. “What can I say? It’s my experience that everything has a price. It just depends on how much you’re willing to pay.”

  39

  Harley

  In the beginning…

  The next week is a blur.

  I want to take things slowly, so we start to spend time together and get to know each other again.

  Julie laughs every time Jackson comes over just to hang out, but it’s what feels right for now.

  It’s not that I don’t want him back.

  I do.

  More than anything.

  But I also need time to heal.

  What he did really hurt me, and while I now finally understand why, my understanding of the situation is still very cerebral.

  I get it in my mind, but I don’t get it in my heart.

  The pain that I felt when he broke up with me is still there somehow, right below the surface.

  And though I want more than anything to just jump into Jackson’s arms again and live the rest of my life as if it never happened, there is a part of me that keeps wondering what if it happens again?

  Even though Julie doesn’t really understand this, Jackson does.

  I think he thinks of himself as lucky that I’m even giving him another chance.

  “I still don’t see what the big deal is about me and Jackson going out alone,” I say to Martin.

  The three of us are hanging out in our kitchen, waiting for Jackson to come over. Up until this point, Jackson and I have just spent time here together. We haven’t gone anywhere, not even his house.

  But I am getting a bit sick of being cooped up in this studio all the time and am looking forward to a nice dinner out.

  Alone.

  “It’s not safe,” Martin says.

  “You had no problem leaving us alone here.”

  “Yes, that’s because I’ve secured this apartment. No one can get up the fire escape. And there’s another security detail posted at the front door while I’m gone.”

  “Nothing is going to happen. Jackson will be with me.”

  “Jackson isn’t a trained bodyguard, Harley,” Martin insists. I get the feeling that Jackson sneaking into this apartment without him knowing has hurt his ego and now he’s being extra cautious about everything.

  “I just left the door open before. It was nothing that you did.”

  “I should’ve had someone at that door so that he couldn’t sneak in,” he mumbles under his breath.

  “See, it is all about you! You’re just upset that someone got past you. Well, it’s all fine. If he didn’t then we probably wouldn’t be together now.”

  “No.” Martin shakes his head. “It’s all about you. What if it weren’t Jackson? What if it were Sam or Parker again? Or some nut job on Parker’s behalf?”

  I shrug.

  “Things wouldn’t have ended so nicely.”

  “Martin, calm down, you’re getting all worked up.” Julie jumps to my defense. She puts her hand on his shoulder and rubs it a little.

  But Martin isn’t worked up at all.

  He is calm and collected.

  Composed.

  “This isn’t going to happen, Harley. Not as long as I am in your employ.”

  This takes me aback.

  “What do you mean?”

  “If you want to go out with Jackson on your own, then you have to fire me. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be doing my job if I let you do this.”

  “Let’s not get so serious,” Julie says, rubbing his shoulder again. He shrugs her off.

  “I am talking to my client, Julie. Can you give us some space?”

  I take a deep breath.

  “You don’t have to blow this out of proportion,” I say. He stares at me and waits.

  At dinner, I yearn to order the most expensive cocktail on the menu, but I’m forced to drown my discontent in a non-alcoholic drink that doesn’t even come close to taking the edge off.

  Martin and Julie are sitting across from us, laughing and enjoying their beers. Jackson doesn’t order a drink in solidarity with me even though I tell him that it’s not necessary.

  Still, I appreciate the gesture.

  “Are you okay?” Julie whispers from across the booth.

  Martin eyes me without saying a word.

  “Look, it’s not that I’m mad at you, Martin,” I say, deciding to bring it out all into the open. “It’s just that I’m annoyed. Pissed really.”

  “Why?” Julie asks.

  “Just about everything. Sam and Parker are both out there living their lives as if they didn’t do anything wrong. And I’m the one who feels like I’m in a fucking prison cell. I can’t do anything. I can’t go out alone. I can’t go out on a date with the father of my baby. I can’t have a drink. It’s all…too much.”

  “I’m sorry,” they all say. Jackson squeezes my hand under the table. I don’t expect it to, but it does make me feel a little better.

  “What would make me feel a lot better about you going outside by yourself,” Martin says, “is if you weren’t in the city. Maybe we can all go somewhere? A house in the country? With land and a perimeter that can be secured safely. That way you won’t see anyone watching you, but you’ll feel safe.”

  That does sound nice. I look over at Julie. She has a big smile on her face. I glance at Jackson, who gives me a nod.

  “That sounds wonderful,” I say.

  “Great, let’s try to arrange something like that asap.”

  40

  Harley

  A fresh start…

  After we all share a slice of tiramisu, Julie and I excuse ourselves and go to the bathroom, leaving the boys to take care of the bill.

  “Do you ever feel bad about Martin always paying the bill?” I ask, apply
ing a fresh coat of lipstick in the mirror.

  “No.” She laughs. “I stopped asking a while ago.”

  She looks at herself in the mirror, fixing her messy bun by arranging each strand just so.

  “You haven’t even known each other a while,” I point out, smiling.

  “Really? It feels like we’ve known each other forever.”

  “That’s ‘cause you’re sharing a postage stamp of an apartment with him.”

  “Okay, seriously, now. What do you think about him?”

  “Who?”

  “C’mon, don’t play dumb. Martin.”

  I shrug.

  “I don’t think you should be asking my opinion on that.”

  “Why?” Julie looks at me surprised.

  “Well, he’s my security detail,” I say, using his words. “So, I find him rather…annoying.”

  “Yes, I can see how annoying it would be to have someone around who cares whether you live or die.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “He’s good at his job,” I finally say. “But it gets a bit too much. As you know. I mean, he’s there all the time.”

  “You can always go to Jackson’s.”

  “Then he’ll be at Jackson’s all the time.”

  “A twelve thousand square foot mansion is not the same thing as a studio apartment.”

  I shrug. “I do like his idea of getting out of the city for a bit. Might be nice to be able to go on a walk again,” I say.

  Julie nods, twirling the ends of her hair around her finger. She bites her lower lip. Then it hits me. She’s nervous. I’ve been so self-involved this whole time that I hadn’t even realized that she’s asking something specific.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” She shrugs.

  “C’mon, tell me. Why are you suddenly so interested in what I think about Martin? Since when did you ever need my approval of who to date?”

  She bites her lower lip again and smiles with her eyes.

  “‘Cause he told me that he loves me. And I love him.”

  “Oh my God!” I squeal and grab her by the shoulders. “Really?”

 

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