The Secret That Intervened

by Lisa Marie Stum

“What’s the proof going to be? I’m not going to just take your word for it,” I said in a condescending tone. I wanted to laugh in his face. He had no more of a shot at Hailey than I had at Cody.

  JT took another gulp of his beer and an expression came across his face that suggested he was considering his options. “I’ll film it and send you a digital snapshot that clearly shows that I won the bet.”

  He was being really fucking stupid. Either that or he was really drunk. I couldn’t tell which aspect was shining more brightly at the moment.

  “You’ve got six weeks to make it happen,” I said, amused that he had openly displayed such devious behavior against his own bandmate, and certain that he was messing with me.

  He nodded at me.

  This shit would be dropped tomorrow.

  Looking around, making sure no one was watching him, he stood up and pulled a two-inch plastic bag out of his pocket. Pinching the sides of the bag, he dumped two pills into his hand before placing the empty bag back in his pocket. He eyed me as he sat back down, extending his hand in front of him. “Take this,” he said.

  “What is it?” I asked as he dropped the pill into my palm.

  “It’s a molly,” he said.

  Oh, hell yeah. I placed it in my mouth and took a swig of my beer. He did the same.

  I ran my hand up his thigh, almost to his crotch. He leaned in and kissed me. Moving his mouth to my ear, he said, “Let’s take the party to my place.”

  I raised the corner of my mouth and said, “I’m up for anything.”

  “Bartender, we’ll take a six-pack to go,” JT called over the bar.

  ***

  We got to his place and the fucker didn’t even hold the door for me. There was cocaine on his coffee table next to a glass of something that looked like it was growing mold.

  I took a seat on the couch and he sat down next to me, placing the six-pack on the metal TV-dinner folding tray that served as an end table. Yeah, he was a super classy guy. He handed me a beer and then took one for himself, throwing his cap in the ashtray before lighting a cigarette.

  I took the cigarette from his hand after he was half through with it and put it out in his beer. He leaned over to kiss me. While the sex had always been a total fuck fest, the way he kissed me with his soft tongue was not. He was such a good kisser.

  The throbbing between my legs intensified as he rubbed my breast. I pulled my lips from his and hopped on him, straddling him.

  As I leaned in to kiss him again he pulled my dress up around my waist. Anticipation was killing me as his hand caressed my inner thigh. He slid his fingers along the laced edge of my panties, teasing me, before slipping them into me.

  I grinded against his hand, thinking about his dick.

  He tugged at my dress with his other hand. “Take this off.”

  I stood up, ripped my dress over my head, and then peeled off my bra and panties. By the time I looked back over at him he was standing there naked, stroking himself. I pushed him back onto the couch and climbed on top of him.

  Chapter 16 - Hailey

  The sound of liquids dripping onto the burner interrupted my concentration. Tossing my diary and pen onto the coffee table, I jumped up from the couch and hurried into the kitchen to turn the heat off. I blew on the chicken noodle soup to stop it from spilling over, and then checked the pot of chili beside it.

  The chili bubbled, shooting specks of tomato sauce onto the wall. I gave it a quick stir, and then placed a lid over it. While writing in my diary I drowned out the world around me, not once thinking about the two pots cooking on the stove.

  I counted out fourteen containers and lids then placed them on the counter stacked together.

  The strength of the sunlight beaming in through the dining room windows suddenly intensified, catching my attention. When I turned back I caught a glimpse of the clock, and realized that Cody would be there soon. I gave the soup a final stir and then went into my bedroom to check my appearance.

  Inspecting myself in the mirror, I noticed a few spots of tomato sauce on my dark purple dress. Shoot. Cody always complimented me when I wore that dress, and I didn’t want to have to change into something else. I retrieved a stain remover packet from my closet, and blotted the stains until they were gone.

  After getting my blow dryer from my dresser drawer next to the mirror, I waved the heat of it across the damp spots on my dress.

  I put away the blow dryer, picked up my perfume, sprayed it in the air and took a quick walk through it. Knowing Cody would be there any second I double tasked, checking my mascara while applying a dab of lip gloss.

  Cody gave the door one solid knock and let himself inside.

  “Hi,” I said as I walked out of my bedroom. “I’m preparing my mother’s meals for the week. Come in here with me.” I motioned my head toward the kitchen.

  “Whatever you’re cooking smells really good. Could smell it before I even opened the door.” He strutted toward me.

  I looked him over and decided he looked good. Real good, intoxicatingly good in a way I no longer forced my mind to ignore.

  He wore jeans that were neither too loose nor too tight, a baby-blue hooded sweatshirt that emphasized his eyes, and a white baseball cap with the brim pointing behind him. Cody always dressed casually, but was always well put together.

  “I nicked my finger while I was chopping the carrots.” I gave him an exaggerated pout as I held up my hand to show him my bandaged finger. That was my sad attempt at flirting. “It was taking me a long time to chop everything up. I started getting careless, trying to hurry.”

  He lifted my wrist with his palm and then brushed his lips against the bandage. “Is it deep?”

  “Nope.” I slid my hand down his palm and flipped his hand over. With the tips of my fingers I skimmed over the stitches between his knuckles. “Are you getting them out tomorrow?”

  “Tuesday.” The corner of his lip crept up and his eyes brightened when I smiled at him. “You look pretty, Hail.”

  “Thanks.” I wanted to compliment him back but embarrassment set in when I realized that I was in a dress, and he was there to help me paint. While getting ready I was more worried about looking my best than giving much thought to the appropriateness of my outfit. I yanked on the side of my dress. “I’m going to change before we paint.”

  “Can I watch?” he said in a flirty tone, with an expression that matched.

  “No,” I said, twisting my face at him. A heat wave surged across my chest.

  He winked at me.

  I turned to the counter and separated the containers. “I’ll have some left over if you’re hungry,” I said.

  “I think I’ll take you up on that. I’m starving.”

  As I ladled the chili into a container, he wrapped his arms around my waist and rested his chin on my shoulder. My heart jolted and I swore it skipped several beats as the comfort of his embrace flushed through me.

  Jason never did that while I was cooking. It was always a quick hug hello or goodbye and a quick peck on the lips. Even when we slept he needed his space. Every once in a while we would cuddle, but I would always awaken to his back.

  “As much as I love your arms around me, you’re making it impossible for me to get these filled,” I teased, not really wanting him to stop.

  His lips skimmed across the skin behind my ear before he stepped aside. He almost kissed my neck, and I considered whether it was intentional. A tingling sensation flooded up my body, forcing my lungs to suck in a deep breath. He had never done that before, but I definitely didn’t mind it.

  “Hand them to me as you fill them and I’ll put the lids on,” he said.

  “You’re such a team player,” I said, handing him the one I’d just filled.

  “Before I forget.” I put down the ladle and picked up a key off of the spice rack next to the stove. “I had a second one made today.” The key dangled from my hand in front of him.

  He took the key, slid his set of keys out of his pocke
t, and then worked it around the metal spiral.

  He also had a key to my old apartment, my mother’s house, and to my car. He had never needed to use any of them. My mother never locked her door and I never locked myself out of anything.

  Cody glanced at the paint sitting on the floor in the dining room and then back to the key. “Did you go to the hardware store?”

  “No. Taylor went for me yesterday,” I said, shaking my head.

  “Now, that makes sense,” he said. “I guess I always figured you wouldn’t go in there because it would bring back memories.”

  I considered his statement thoughtfully. “I would still go in there if the Andersons hadn’t renovated it,” I said.

  He slid his hand underneath my hair and tugged on my necklace with his thumb. I looked up at him. “That makes sense to me,” he said.

  I smiled at him, feeling lucky that he understood me. Sometimes I felt like he was the only one that did.

  It wasn’t that I had an aversion to change, but I wanted to hold on to the memories of my father. I was afraid seeing the hardware store would somehow erase the version I held in my mind.

  “Chloe sleeping?”

  “She’s probably having her nap right now, but she’s at your mom’s. I didn’t want her around the paint fumes. I figured I’d keep the windows open, and let the place air out until it gets too cold outside. She’s going to keep her until after dinner.”

  “Gotcha.” He placed the set of keys in his pocket. “It’s hot in here.” His fingers gripped the bottom of his sweatshirt, and he slid it over his head. The tank top underneath came up as he pulled the shirt off, exposing his abs. I stared at the definition of them for just a moment too long, and he caught me looking.

  “What?” he asked, holding my gaze after I lifted my eyes.

  “Your turn,” I said, offering the ladle to him so I could change the topic. “Give me your shirt.”

  He took the ladle from me with one hand while holding out his shirt with the other. I folded it neatly and placed it on the breakfast bar.

  I was certain it didn’t strike him as odd that I folded his shirt. He knew that I despised messiness and things not being in their proper place. I never left a dirty dish in the sink, and not only were the clothes in my drawers neatly folded, they were color coordinated. Nobody would ever find a piece of trash on my car floor. And I went as far as only having a small trash can underneath my kitchen sink, removing the bag almost daily. I hated the mess my mother would always leave behind, and had decided long ago that I would not end up like her in any regard.

  I popped the lids onto the containers he had finished filling, stealing a glance at his arms as he handed them to me. Our arms brushed slightly, and I felt a wave of heat explode through my body. He looked at me with a look I didn’t recognize.

  Was the almost-kiss on my neck earlier a test of boundaries?

  “Are you ever going to let me kiss you?” he teased.

  My face flushed. “We did once, remember?” I steadied my breath to dull the hammering of my heart.

  “Doesn’t count. We were thirteen. At that age you ask someone into a relationship and then tell them you love them the same day,” he laughed.

  “Do you remember senior year when you told me about my dad?”

  Cody had found him on Facebook. I’d asked him to look him up, not wanting to see anything for myself. He had a new family, a career as a lawyer, and lived in California. He also had a child that was older than me. I’d cried in Cody’s arms that day, knowing my dad could have contacted me but didn’t.

  “The time we almost kissed,” he said.

  “Jason was away for the week. I was going to break up with him,” I said, looking him in the eyes as I gained confidence with myself and with how well Cody knew me.

  “You never told me that.” A curious look took over his face. “Why tell me now?”

  “I was foolish to think that I could make Jason want a family. And I was more foolish to think that I could make him fall back in love with me. I feel like I wasted so much time with him.”

  I wanted to tell Cody my feelings for him, but I didn’t know how to just come out with it.

  We finished preparing my mother’s meals and left them on the counter to cool. I pulled down two green soup bowls with handles on them from the cabinet. Then I picked up two spoons from the drawer beside the refrigerator. I emptied the remaining contents of each pot into the bowls.

  “You’ve got a choice to make. Chicken soup or chili?” I asked.

  “You decide.”

  I put a spoon in each bowl and handed him the chili.

  “I want to check out what you’ve done with the living room,” he said, while walking out of the kitchen. I followed behind him, holding the bottom of my bowl in one hand and the handle in the other.

  Above the red couch was a perfectly centered large painting that was half the length of the couch. I had painted it when I was eighteen, days after moving out of my mother’s house. The red tone of the couch ran through the painting and perfectly coordinated with it. Cody examined the two bookcases, which were completely filled. All of the shelves were lined with books of a similar size and each shelf was in alphabetical order.

  The bookcases were identical and each one had four shelves. The top two shelves had a picture on each side. He walked closer to the bookcase to the left of the couch and looked at the pictures. The first one was of him and Chloe at the hospital the day she was born. Jason didn’t show at the hospital that day – he had football practice (or something). I accepted his excuse that day, but I was upset. Now all of his excuses for never being there when it counted infuriated me.

  Jason’s parents were at the hospital on that day but they have had little interaction with Chloe since then. They were busy traveling and living their own lives. They always sent Chloe gifts on her birthday and on holidays. But they were nowhere near active participants in her life.

  “Hear anything from him?” Cody asked. He looked over at me with a familiar look, one that indicated he was trying to read me.

  “Nothing. Doubt I will,” I responded.

  “Good.” He picked up the second picture.

  The second picture was of my father and mother. Cody had seen the picture countless times before. He knew the reason why I kept it was the same reason why I wore the necklace and the reason why I wouldn’t go into the hardware store. It brought me a sense of comfort to have mementos of what once was.

  The next picture was of him, me, and his father. “I really miss him,” he said, and took a bite of chili.

  I had my mouth full already. I looked at him with an understanding look.

  The next picture was of him and Mama Mary. I had taken the picture the day of junior prom. He smiled proudly at the camera as he stood on the front porch with her arm around him. He’d asked me out but I had to turn him down. He’d tried to convince me, but I still refused. I didn’t want to tell him that I didn’t have money for a dress. I knew he would find a way to buy me one and I didn’t want the charity. Besides, he had given me the earrings for my birthday just a month before. Maybe if I had gone to the prom with him we would have dated that year.

  Cody and Mama Mary had done enough for me in my estimation. I’d considered ways that I could get the money for a prom dress. My mother was barely scraping by on the disability and the welfare checks she received. I hated so much that those were my circumstances, and knew my mother could’ve worked if she had just put down the vodka. I considered using some of my savings from working at Frankie’s part-time after school, but decided against using any of the modest college fund I had been able to establish.

  The last picture was of Cody. He picked it up to look at it more closely. He had never seen the picture before. It was a close-up of him singing.

  “Was this from the last show before you went to New York?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  He flashed me an inquisitive look before he placed it back on the shelf. It was the
picture that I’d kept hidden in my safe when I lived in New York.

  We stood next to each other for a moment, looking at the other pictures and reminiscing over the memories they captured. “Let’s sit down to finish our lunch,” I said.

  “One minute,” Cody responded.

  I sat down as Cody went to the fridge and pulled out a Diet Coke for me and an orange Fanta for himself. I didn’t drink orange Fanta but I always picked up a six-pack of them for him when I grocery shopped.

  He took a seat next to me, moved my diary aside, and placed each soda on a coaster.

  “Were you writing earlier today?”

  “Yes. I haven’t written since I came back from New York. I haven’t had much of a chance.”

  “What did you write about?”

  “About the night before coming back to Milbourny, how it felt seeing you again at Frankie’s and at my mother’s house.”

  I blushed. The words flew out of my mouth without much thought. I had a bad habit of internally moderating thoughts before I said them with most people, but rarely around Cody.

  “I was so happy to see you, Hail. Sometimes I thought I would never see you or Chloe again.” A distressed expression crept across his face.

  I looked at him with regret and said, “I hope you understand my reasons for leaving. I just…”

  Cody interrupted me. “I do understand them. I just wish you’d listened to me.” He rubbed my back. “I knew he wasn’t a good guy, but I never thought he would lay his hands on you.”

  “Neither did I.”

  “Did writing about it in your diary help you feel better about what happened?” Cody shook his head and had a sorry look on his face, like he felt silly about what his question might have implied. “That was a stupid question. I shouldn’t have asked that.”

  “It’s not a stupid question. It helped me work out things in my head. It made me realize how screwed up my thought process was.” I looked at the diary, remembering the first one I’d ever owned.

  Cody had given me my first diary on my eleventh birthday. His mother had suggested it when he asked for her advice about what to buy me. He only had his weekly allowance, and five dollars was certainly not a lot of money. When he told me it would be an outlet to express my feelings, I knew it wasn’t an idea of his own.