The Jezebel

by Dylan Allen

  “What happened to him?”

  “He’s dead.” Her voice is sharp, and she draws the sign of the cross over her chest.

  I chuckle, but I’m unsettled. “What was that about? Are you not sure if he’s dead?”

  “Lower your voice,” she hisses.

  “Sorry,” I mutter and take a deep breath. “Well, is he?” I ask, my voice softer, but no less demanding.

  “I don’t know,” she sighs deeply. I feel like I can’t breathe.

  “How come?” I keep my voice calm, speak slowly to hide the storm clouds gathering in my mind.

  “My grandfather is the source of that, so we don’t believe him. The woman, Rebecca, was released from prison five years ago. But, there’s no trace of her.”

  “And what about him?” I urge her. If that man is still alive…

  “My mother is looking into it. I haven’t asked though. Honestly… I try my best not to think about him. And I’m more concerned about finding her.”

  I hope he is dead. Because if he’s not, I need to make him pay for what he did to her. Show him what it’s like to be helpless while someone takes pleasure in hurting you. Before I let the law have him. My oath to do no harm can’t possibly bind me in a case like this.

  “I’m sick with guilt,” she says, and I blink to refocus my vision and glance down at her. “About what?”

  “Rebecca. Are you not listening to me?”

  “Of course, I am,” I stroke her hand and push my thoughts of vengeance away. “Any clues about her?”

  “Not one. It’s like…she doesn’t exist.”

  She doesn’t meet my eyes. I run a thumb over her delicate cheekbones until she turns to look at me.

  “You mentioned people sending hate mail. Have you been getting threats?”

  She looks uncomfortable, but she holds my gaze and shrugs. “Of course, I have. It comes with the territory of being a woman online. I’m not worried. As long as nobody knows who I am, it’ll be fine.”

  “You don’t have anything to be ashamed of,” I reassure her.

  Her eyes cut to me, and they glitter with annoyance. “I know that. And it’s also no one’s business but my own. But now, there’s also them...”

  Her gaze loses focus, and she stares at her hands.

  “Who is them?”

  “The women who found each other on the podcast and came forward to put an end to Zimmerman’s reign of terror. I’m still the lady with the Scarlet letter A on her chest. I don’t want to do anything to hurt their chances in court. Right now, The Jezebel is an anonymous, but reliable source. If they know it’s me, all of those women will be guilty by association.

  “That’s ridiculous,” I sputter.

  “That’s misogyny, Stone,” she corrects me.

  I nod. My work

  “Getting their day in court is going to be hard enough. I want that man to be held accountable for the lives he’s altered. And I want to see justice done.” She ties up her explanation with that perfectly simple, simply perfect bow.

  If I wasn’t in love with her already, I would have fallen again, right in that moment.

  She stifles a yawn and moans softly. “Can we talk about this later? I feel like garbage and my kids will be home in a few hours.”

  I yawn too and slide down to lay beside her. “No complaints, I’ve been up all night.” She curls around me, draping one of her shapely legs over my hip, and resting her chest on mine. I cup her head and stroke the thick tangle of curls. I can’t believe we’re here.

  Just like that.

  “Sleep. Then food. And I’d love to meet your kids.” I let my eyes drift closed.

  “Okay.” She tilts her head downward.

  “You’re stretching out my socks,” she grumbles.

  I crack an eye open and the smile on her face is the best thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

  “I can’t sleep barefoot. My toes get cold.”

  Her chuckle is the last thing I hear before I drift off.

  So Domestic

  Regan

  “Mommyyyyy, catch me,” Henri shouts at the same time he launches himself up into my arms. I catch him, but stagger to stay upright when Martinez wraps his arms around my legs.

  “Did you miss me or something?” I ask, delighted by their warm hugs and the weight of their small bodies melding with mine. I hitch Henri on my hip and take Martinez’s and turn to smile at Eva.

  “Hi, angel.” I blow her a kiss.

  “Hi, I guess I’ll get the bags,” she grumbles, but with a smile on her face. I lean down to drop a kiss on her cheek. She smells like chlorine and sunscreen. Eva climbs back into the car to get her brothers’ backpacks, and my mother hops down.

  “You let them go swimming already, you’re getting soft.” I raise an eyebrow at my mother’s mock disapproval.

  She shrugs. “They’re much nicer than you were.” She smiles and walks past our huddle toward the house. I pivot and rush after her as fast my clinging children will allow.

  “Are you coming in?” I ask, when I catch up.

  She glances at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Don’t I always?”

  “Wait. I want to tell you someth—”

  “Qui est cet homme?" Martinez digs his heels enough, to bring me to a halt, and I follow the trajectory of the finger he’s pointing, and even though this isn’t going according to plan, I can’t help but smile.

  Stone stands in the doorway freshly showered and dressed in the same jeans and shirt he was wearing last night, looking like a dream come true.

  “I see,” my mother drawls, and looks at me with arched brows.

  “C'est un ami et il voulait vous rencontrer tous,” I explain to wide-eyed Martinez.

  “You made a new friend?” Henri shrieks at my explanation, jumps down from my hip and strides up the walk. “I am Henri Landel. I’m the oldest boy in my family.” He extends his hand for Stone to shake.

  For all his earlier talk about being nervous, he looks as relaxed as ever. He grins down at my son, “Hello, I’m Stone Rivers. I’m the second oldest boy in my family. Very nice to meet you.” He drops to his knee so they’re almost eye level and they shake hands.

  “Mom?” Eva calls, tentatively from behind me and I turn to face her, Martinez still clinging to my leg.

  “Are you okay?” I ask when she just stares at me.

  “Is that…your boyfriend?” she mouths.

  “Women your mother’s age don’t have boyfriends,” my mother answers loudly and I give her an exasperated glance.

  A flushing Eva makes her way toward the door and Stone stands and meets her halfway. “Can I help you with your bags?” he asks.

  She cocks her head and considers him, “Would you offer to help if I was a boy?”

  “Eva!” My mother chides.

  Eva’s undaunted, “Well?”

  Stone nods. “Absolutely,” he confirms.

  “Okay. That’s good. And thanks, but I got it.” She turns around to give me an inconspicuous thumbs up. I drop my head into my hands and laugh. This couldn’t be any more wonderful if I’d planned it.

  “Well, let’s take this little party inside, shall we?” my mother says and starts to herd up toward the open front door.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I came out here because I just called in to work. I’m sorry,” Stone grimaces.

  We planned on me bringing the kids in, introducing him and having lunch together.

  But Martinez’s grip hasn’t eased, and I think maybe it’s for the best.

  “Maybe come back for dinner?” I ask.

  “Yes, I’ll cook,” my mother chimes in.

  He smiles at her like she just offered him a pot of gold. “I can’t wait.”

  Make it Official

  Stone

  LATER THAT EVENING.

  I slip out of bed and drop a kiss on her head and leave an invitation to the hospital’s biggest fundraiser of the year by her bedside along with a note.

  Venus,

  I had
to go to work and I’ve got shifts every night this week. That’s an invitation to a Rivers Foundation fundraiser. I’d like you to be my date.

  I know it’s more public than you’re ready for. But I’m certain that after dinner with your mother, we’re ready.

  And, I won’t pretend you’re not mine anymore. I know you love me, but love isn’t enough. I need you to trust me, too. It would be fucking awesome to make a life with my soul mate, so I’m praying you’ll choose me over everything else - the fear, the worry. Have faith in us.

  Love, Stone

  I walk out of there knowing I’ve put my heart back in her hands.

  What if she decides that as much as she wants me, she wants other things and people more?

  I’d like to think that I’d get on with my life.

  But hell, I don’t want to think about living without my Venus. I’m hers. Body and soul, heart and mind.

  We could do incredible things together. I can only hope that in the face of this leap of faith I’m asking her to make, she’ll want what’s on the other side more than she fears the fall.

  Make Them Stop

  Regan

  After putting it off all week, this afternoon, I gathered my kids to tell them that Stone was more than a friend.

  He’s picking me up tonight, and I wanted them to understand before he arrived.

  They were all happy. He’s been over a few times this week. And, he’s even working on his French and has won Martinez over. Henri likes him because he’s tall enough to climb. Eva likes him, because he likes me.

  I reassured them that he wouldn’t be trying to replace their father. We also talked about how they felt about their father and I not being married anymore.

  Because we’ve lived apart for so long, they’re used to the long stretches of him being gone. Eva is still not speaking to him, and I can’t say I blame her. But I also encouraged her to try talking to him. She said, “You first.”

  So, I called Marcel, and all four of us had a civil, somewhat stilted conversation.

  What he did was so wrong, but he’s not a monster. He’s just living proof that marriage isn’t for everyone. And despite his failings as a husband, I know he loves his kids. I don’t want them to have hang ups about love or to look at their parents’ less than stellar track record and think that it had any bearing on them. By the time we were done talking, we all felt better.

  But I saved the most difficult conversation for the last possible moment.

  “Okay, guys, time for bed,” I say, and wait for them to get their grumble out before I shoo them upstairs.

  “Eva, can you wait, please? I want to talk to you,” I call after her, and pat the spot next to me on the small sofa.

  “Okay,” she bounds back, smiling, because she loves when she gets to hear things her brothers are too little to.

  My stomach cramps, as I watch her walk toward me. What would I do if someone hurt her the way I was hurt? I hope that by telling her, she’ll make better choices and understand that silence and secrets don’t do anything but fester and make us sick.

  This week has been a watershed. Besides agreeing to go with Stone to his event, I finally told my brothers about the podcast and then about what happened. They were both devastated and so angry at Pops when they heard the role he played in all of it.

  But even as I help them navigate their anger, grief, and guilt, them knowing isn’t a burden. In fact, it’s lightened the one I’ve been holding.

  If I can use my considerable platform to shed light on the plague of sex trafficking that’s part of Houston’s underbelly, maybe I can do some good.

  So, I’ve decided to come out on The Jezebel, to say my name with pride. I want people to understand that anyone can become a victim of it, but that it doesn’t have to ruin your life, And I want my daughter to be the first to know.

  I won’t let her listen to the podcast.

  It’s for audiences 17+, but I’m also very aware that the girls who are affected are much younger. But at eleven years old and on the cusp of young adulthood, I decided to just give her a very broad overview of what happened.

  “So, I want to tell you a story of something that happened when I was nineteen. I promised when you were born that I wouldn’t ever lie to you. That I would protect you with my very life, and I meant it.”

  Her light amber eyes grow wide. “Mom, you’re scaring me.”

  My heart thuds and my gut knots, but I smile and take her hand. “I don’t ever want you to be afraid. But I also want you to know that fear is normal. If you’re scared, just remember that darkness exists so that we can see the light, okay?” I tell her.

  She nods, solemn and brave. My heart swells with love for her. I push my own trepidation to the side and follow my daughter’s lead and let my courage propel me forward.

  “When I was nineteen, I was taken by men, who sell human beings and force them to do things against their will. All sorts of things. I’m fine. I was rescued after only a few days. And I’m very, very lucky that I had a family to fall back on.”

  Her face has turned ashen and her wide eyes are glassy with tears. “Someone sold you, Mommy?” she asks in a small, high pitched voice made thick by the tears she’s holding back.

  “Yes, but I got out and I’m here,” I tried to reassure her, but she had been beside herself.

  “Can they still do that?” She asks.

  “To me, or you? No. They’d have to kill me first, baby. But there are people who still do it, and who hurt other people the way they hurt me,” I say and hold my breath and pray she doesn’t ask for specifics.

  She brushes her tears away and sits up straight. “We have to stop them, Mom. They can’t do that,” she says, her eyes brighten with anger and for the millionth time, I fall head over heels in love with my daughter.

  I pull her into a hug. “No, they can’t. And we will stop them. Or die trying.”

  At Last

  Regan

  “I’m so sorry. But she’s still crying. I can’t leave her like this.”

  I hit the little blue arrow and send Stone the very last message I wanted.

  I’m despondent, as the three dots populate and disappear half a dozen times, before a response finally pops up.

  “I understand. I’ll call you when I’m leaving. And don’t take that dress off…you promised me that privilege, and I plan on collecting.”

  Oh, that man…he does things to my heart.

  “Mom? Are you almost done?”

  At the sound of my daughter’s voice, my heart leaps and nerves assail me. I came into my bathroom to text Stone when it seemed like she wasn’t going to calm down any time soon. Someone reposted that picture of me and Stone on Snapchat and tagged her in it. She was devastated and has been sobbing all night. I had just finished getting dressed when she came to show me the post.

  My mother is here, and I know Eva’s going to be fine, but I feel terrible going out when she is so upset.

  With one last peek at my reflection, I turn off the light and step out of my closet.

  Eva is sitting on my bed, her eyes glued to her phone, her fingers flying.

  I smooth the fabric of my dress and clear my throat to get her attention.

  Her head whips up, and I’m startled by the wide smile on her face. “Holy cow, Mom. You look amazing.” Her eyes wide with wonder, her grin one of pure delight. She throws her phone onto the mattress, hops down and rushes toward me.

  “Really? You sure?” I ask out of habit, but I can see the sincere appreciation in her gaze as she looks me over from head to toe.

  “Yes. Stone is going to love it.” She grabs my hands and spins us around.

  I force a smile, as I trot, in my precariously high and narrow heels, to keep up with her.

  She stops spinning and teeters backward to the bed and flops back, lands spread out like a starfish, her hair framing her face like a halo. I flop down next to her, with as much ease as my skin tight mermaid-style dress will allow. We stare at t
he ceiling, and I try to catch my breath.

  Eva nudges my leg with her toe, and I turn my head to look at her. She’s watching me intently, but the storm has cleared from her eyes, and she’s smiling.

  “Are you okay? Ten minutes ago, you couldn’t even speak,” I remind her, with a skeptical smile. I trace a dried trail of tears over her cheeks.

  “I was sad because I hate them for trying to hurt you. But I’m so proud of you. You are so strong. I know I’m just eleven, but I see you, and I am so glad you’re my mom.”

  Tears sting my eyes. Children love so easily. Even when their parents don’t deserve it. I see now how helpless I was to my grandfather’s whims. It’s not a matter of judgement, we’re wired to crave the approval of our parents.

  “Aren’t you worried about what your friends will say?”

  She looks at me like I just said something ridiculous. “Mommy, rule number one, remember?”

  I laugh out loud, relief and gratitude mingling and swelling into one.

  That’s my daughter. “I’m so proud of you,” I say, with a teary smile and pull her into a hug.

  “Oh good, you’re finished, Tyson’s on his way.” My mother strides into my bedroom.

  I let Eva go and sit up.

  “For what?” I ask, as I scoot to the edge of the bed and stand.

  “When you said you weren’t going out because she was upset, I intervened.”

  “Mother!”

  She shrugs. “Good thing I did, no? You still have time.”

  “I told Stone I wasn’t coming. I glance at my clock and grimace, he’s probably already there.”

  “But I could drive myself, right?” I ask, tentative hope rising.

  “Nonsense, Tyson will drive you. He owes you a few favors. He’ll be here in five minutes.”