by Alex Grayson
He sets his plate down and picks up his coffee, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he downs the rest of it before depositing it in the sink.
“I’m only explaining this to you because you might be here for a while and see it for yourself. Jenny seems to like you, and if she does, then the others will as well. I don’t want you thinking ill thoughts toward any of them.” He pauses. “I’m a man who likes… variety. I don’t settle for one certain type, because I like many different ones. I like options and I like change.”
“Jesus,” I mutter, disgust lacing my voice. “You make it sound like your speaking about a tie or a watch.”
His eyes harden and the muscle in his jaw jumps. “And you sound like a judgmental bitch who has no fucking clue of the situation she’s casting judgement on.”
I narrow my eyes but clamp my mouth shut. He continues, his voice severe and cold.
“Jenny and Jamie are two of the four women I take as my lovers. Gillian and Layla are the other two. They aren’t just lovers though, they’re my companions. I care for them physically and emotionally, just as they do me. It’s an arrangement we all enjoy. I spend time with them equally and separately, and I treat them fairly.”
“Fairly?” I almost laugh, because I’m so stunned he would think what he’s doing is fair to any of the women. “How can what you’re doing be fair? You leave these women to be with another, as if they alone aren’t good enough for you.”
“They’re more than good enough,” he barks. “They’re better than me. It’s not them who’s lacking, it’s me. I would never be good enough for them.”
His answer shocks me, and all I can do is stare at him for several long seconds before I get my bearings back.
“And are they allowed to take other lovers? Do you love them?”
He crosses his arms over his chest and sets one ankle over the other. “Yes. They can take other lovers if they choose, but only if it doesn’t interfere with our arrangement. They choose not to. And yes, I love each of them, but I’m not in love with them. Just like they aren’t in love with me.”
“How do you know they aren’t?” I snark and shove my plate away. I’ve only eaten a few bites, but suddenly I’m no longer hungry.
“Because they know it would be pointless. I don’t do love, and I have no desire to give it a try.”
I laugh at that, but it’s humorless. He was right a moment ago. I have no right to cast judgement on these people. Just like my opinion on the circumstances shouldn’t really matter to them. I should keep my mouth shut, but I just can’t. I know what it feels like to love someone, hoping and praying they return the feelings, only for them to squash your heart. My college boyfriend hooked me line and sinker before throwing me back in the pond after I told him I loved him. He told me I was just a good time, that he was too young for anything serious. I knew he was a player when we got together, but my stupid heart thought I could change him.
“Love doesn’t work that way. You can’t just turn the emotion off. It grows whether you want it to or not.”
He sighs and rubs his thumb across the crease between his eyes. After a moment, he settles his palms on the counter behind him.
“There’s more shit to the situation than I’m willing to tell you. It’s information you don’t deserve to know. I may not be in love with them, but what I feel is the closest thing that I’ll ever get to that emotion. Those women mean the world to me. I’d do anything for them. They know they’ll never get more from me than what I’ve already given them. They’re consenting adults and make their own decisions. If at any time, they need more, they can walk away. I’d never hold them back from a future they want. If that’s a husband and kids, I’ll be the first to pay for the wedding.”
As he finishes his spiel, I almost feel sorry for him. To live a life so closed off from the prospect of love, must be a sad life. I may have been hurt in the past, but that doesn’t mean I believe there isn’t someone out there waiting for me. That I’ll never find that special person I was meant to love until the day that I die. I firmly believe everyone has that certain person. You just have to open yourself up to the idea of it and grab a hold of it when it’s presented to you.
I don’t get a chance to reply to Judge, not that I could formulate a response anyway. As much as I still don’t agree with his practices, I kind of understand it better. And again, he was right. Jenny and the others are adults, and as long as he’s been completely truthful with them on where he stands, they have every right to make their own decisions. Who am I to agree or disagree? I’m just someone passing through town. I mean nothing to these people.
Light footsteps tap on the floor and we both look over to see Jenny carrying her empty plate into the kitchen. She still looks half asleep with her hair messily pulled back in a low ponytail and her eyes red. Yesterday was stressful on her as well. I’m sure it’s not often she finds a butchered animal on her back porch.
Sadness creeps back in at remembering Sampson and the pain he must have went through. Diego is a bastard, and I hope like hell he pays dearly.
Judge meets Jenny before she can make it to the sink and takes the plate from her. After setting it down, he wraps his arms around her waist, tugging her closer, then leans down and kisses her. I watch him closely. He looks down at her tenderly, his expression softer than I’ve seen it the whole time we talked. He really does care about her. There’s no mistaking that.
“Morning,” he says low. “Sleep well?”
She yawns, throwing her hand over her mouth to cover it, and nods. “Yes. Thank you for staying.”
He tucks a loose piece of hair behind her ear. “I’ll be here until all this is over. I’ve already let the other women know.”
Jenny’s eyes slide to mine, and she gives me a soft smile. “Hey.”
“Good morning.”
She looks back to Judge. “You should be at work already,” she remarks.
“I’m working from home for a while. Trouble and I don’t think it’s a good idea for the two of you to be left alone until this Diego is caught and dealt with. I’ll be in my office for the next few hours, but my door will be open should either of you need anything.”
She nods and leans up on her toes to kiss Judge. I decide to give them a bit of privacy and get up from my stool, slipping my phone in my pocket.
“I’ve got a phone call to make,” I mumble, unsure if they’ll even hear me.
Jenny apparently does, because she turns in Judge’s arms and smiles.
Before I turn to leave the room, I glance at Judge. His expression is still icy, but it seems to have thawed some.
Once in my room, I plop down on the bed and blow out a breath. I’m not looking forward to this phone call. In fact, the thought of it has my chest feeling tight, like a band is slowly constricting around my sternum.
Pursing my lips and steeling my resolve, I swipe my screen to life, find the name I need, and bring the phone to my ear.
“Hello?” Millie, one of my best friends, answers sleepily.
“Hey, Mills.”
There’s a pause and a shuffling sound on her end, as I’m sure she gets out of the bed, not wanting to wake up her husband, Justin.
“Jesus, Eden,” she hisses quietly. “Where are you?”
I lean back against the head board and stare up at the ceiling. “A small town northwest of San Antonio.”
She huffs out a breath. “You were supposed to call me a couple days ago. I’ve been calling and texting. Why haven’t you answered?” I inwardly wince when her voice rises, and guilt weights my shoulders down at the reminder of all the missed calls from Millie I’ve gotten over the last couple of days. “You had me worried sick. I almost called your mom.”
My stomach bottoms out. “Please tell me you didn’t,” I beg.
“I didn’t,” she answers with frustration. “But I was going to today if I hadn’t heard from you by tonight.”
“I’m fine, okay? I just needed a couple days to adjust.”
&
nbsp; “Are you safe?” Worry laces her voice.
I think about her question. Am I safe here in Malus? It may be foolish of me, but my first instinct is to say yes. JW has no reason to want to protect me, other than his civic duty as a sheriff. But there’s more to it than that. I feel it in my gut. It almost seems like it’s personal to him, which is ludicrous, because I’ve never met the guy before in my life.
I tuck my knees to my chest and wrap one arm around my legs.
“Yes, I’m safe,” I answer with the truth that I believe.
There’s static in my ear as Millie blows out a breath. “Good. What are you going to do? You can’t hide forever.”
Millie is the only one who knows the truth about why I left, and that’s only because she was at my house when I came barreling home, freaking out. I’m glad she knows because it means I have someone I can talk to about it. I’ve thanked God several times she wasn’t there when Diego came by hours later.
“I’m not sure yet, but the sheriff here is helping me. I need you to do me a favor and talk with Clayton and Hannah. Just tell them I had a family emergency. I don’t want them to think I’ve abandoned them.”
Clayton and Hannah are siblings who visit the homeless shelter where Millie and I volunteer three days a week. Technically, we’re only supposed to offer the shelter to people who are actually homeless. Clayton and Hannah aren’t, but where they live is awful. They mainly come to the shelter to get away from home and to eat. They haven’t outright admitted to being abused, but I’ve seen the bruises. They always play them off as being clumsy accidents, but I’m no fool. I’ve contemplated calling the authorities, but the two have already been in the foster system and are deathly afraid of going back. They were separated the last time, and both were sexually abused. I’m not sure how they managed it, but their parents were somehow able to get them back.
“They asked where you were yesterday,” Millie states solemnly. “I told them you were sick.”
A ball of anger forms in my stomach. I wish I could find Diego and beat the shit out of him.
I clear my throat and try to sound like I’m not on the verge of murder.
“Tell them I miss them, and I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“I will.” Millie turns quiet for a moment. “Justin still thinks you should report Diego and what he did to that girl, and what he did to you.”
I shake my head, even though she can’t see it. “It wouldn’t do any good. If anything, it’ll piss him off more.”
“Keep me posted, okay? And for goodness sake, answer your phone when I call,” she finishes, exasperated.
“I’m sorry.” I hate that she worried so much. “Just don’t call my parents. They’ll call the police, and it’ll put them on Diego’s radar.”
Diego’s never met my parents, and the short time we were together, I never mentioned them. To him, it probably seems like we’re not close. I’m grateful I never brought him home to meet them.
“I’ve got to go. I’ll call you in a couple days.”
“Alright. Just be careful.”
“You know I will.”
We hang up, and I drop my phone by my hip at the same time I suck in a deep breath.
Diego’s taken so much from me. More than he probably realizes. He deserves to rot in prison for the rest of his stinking life.
I can’t wait for this to be over, so I can get back to my life.
JW
“STOP STRUGGLING, YOU OLD bastard,” I grunt to Cliff, keeping my grip light on his frail bicep so I don’t bruise him.
“Then lemme go. I ain’t done nothin’ wrong,” he whines.
“Dorothy wouldn’t agree with you.”
He spits on the sidewalk, almost falling over as he does so. I grab his shoulder and steady him.
“That old biddy don’t know shit. She needs to keep her damn leaves on her property.”
“Cliff, it’s a fuckin’ tree. She can’t help the wind from blowing the leaves into your yard.”
He grumbles and clumsily stumbles up the steps to the sheriff’s office. This is the second time I’ve had to bring Cliff in this week for dumping leaves from his yard into Dorothy’s. Next week we’ll do this all over again. She has a tree close to their property line and he has a fit when the leaves fall into his yard. This only happens when he’s drunk. Unfortunately, that’s far too often. When he’s sober, he’s a completely different person. Nice and sane. His attitude toward Dorothy is flirtatious. The old man likes her, but he doesn’t want to admit it, especially when he’s drunk. He lost his wife of fifty years, six years ago. He didn’t take the loss very well, and I suspect he hates himself for caring about another woman.
I happened to come across Cliff yelling at Dorothy while I was driving by. The little old lady had her broom in her hand, trying her best to smack Cliff with it as he dumped a pile of leaves in her yard. The transformation between the two elderly people is amazing when Cliff hasn’t been drinking. Tomorrow, Cliff will go over to Dorothy’s house, apologize, and she’ll make him some coffee. They’ll chat, be friendly, and act like nothing ever happened. Until the next time Cliff decides to break out a whiskey bottle.
“Hey, Mr. Levins. How’s it going today?” Rita asks as we approach her desk.
“It’d be better if this fool—” he throws his thumb over his shoulder toward me, “—would let me go so I could go on about my business.”
“Not if your business consists of throwing shit in Dorothy’s yard,” I retort and propel him forward.
“It’s just leaves.”
I chuckle. “Exactly so, which makes me wonder why you’re so insistent on throwing them in her yard. Know what I think?” I don’t give him time to answer. “I think you like riling your neighbor.”
“That’s stupid,” he mutters. “Why’d I want to do that?”
Rounding the corner to where Malus’s only two cells are, Sanchez spots us and gets up to open one.
“That’s only something you can answer Cliff,” I tell him as I march him over to the opened cell and deposit him on the bed, where he slumps. “I suggest you think about it while you’re here for the next few hours. Once you figure it out, I bet you’d spend a lot less time in this cell.”
He lays down and turns his back toward me. “Whatever. Just go and leave me be.”
Two minutes tops and he’ll be sawing logs in his sleep. Cliff hasn’t been officially arrested. It’s just time in the cell to sleep off his drink.
I shake my head as I leave the cell. Sanchez chuckles and resumes his seat at the small desk in the corner.
“One of these days he’ll get a clue and figure out he likes old Mrs. Owens,” he remarks, picking up a straw and puts it between his teeth to chew.
“That day can’t come soon enough.”
“Need me to stick around until he sobers?”
“Gimme a couple hours and I’ll be back. I’m gonna run to The Hill and grab some lunch and take care of a couple things. I’ll be back to take over.”
“Sounds good.”
“Want anything from The Hill?”
He kicks his feet up on the desk and gets comfortable. “I’ll grab something when I leave here.”
I tap the door on my way out. Rita’s on the phone, so I stop by her desk to make sure it’s not important. I continue on my way when she shakes her head.
The Hill is only a few blocks away, so I choose to walk instead of drive. I pass by a big open grassy area that has a huge playground for all the children in Malus. Picnic tables and benches surround the playground. I laugh when I see a boy chasing after a girl with what looks like a worm dangling from his hand. Several other kids are on the playset while their parents sit in the sun and watch them. One family is sitting at a picnic table having lunch.
The area is a lot happier than it was back when it was Sweet Haven. That’s where the Hall sat. When my brothers and I moved back, one of the first things we did was burn down the offending building. Everyone left in town stood aroun
d the big ball of flames, each of us relishing watching the place that held so many painful memories burn to the ground. Afterward, my brothers and I felt the landscape left behind would be a good place to build a play area for the children. What once was a place that created nightmares is now a place that helps make good memories.
It’s noon on a Friday, so several cars dot the parking lot of The Hill. The inside will be even fuller than it appears from the outside, because, like me, many people in town live so close to The Hill, they walk to the restaurant.
I’m surprised to see Mae behind the bar when I walk inside. Her and her late husband, Dale, owned The Hill back when the town was called Sweet Haven. The place was shut down after the town was raided twenty-three years ago. When she came back twenty-one years later, The Hill was still in her name. With her permission, Doris and Meryl had opened the place back up years ago and ran it. Instead of taking on the task by herself, Mae decided to offer half of The Hill to Doris and Meryl. They’ve pretty much taken over since Mae is getting on in years and it’s harder for her to get around. She doesn’t like not being a part of the restaurant anymore, but I think she’s starting to understand that she needs to take it easy.
“Hey, Mae,” I greet and lean over the bar to kiss her cheek.
“Hey, you.” She smiles, throwing a towel over her shoulder. “How’s your day going?”
I sit on a stool and lace my fingers on the scarred wood. “Just dropped Cliff off in a cell.”
She sucks her teeth while rolling her eyes. “That man…. I tell ya. Why can’t he just admit he has a thing for Dorothy?”
“My guess? Because it’ll make all of our lives easier.”
“Too right you are, son. Now,” she slaps her hands on the bar, “what can I get you?”
“Why are you here? I thought you only came on Mondays and Wednesdays?”
Her cheeks carry a healthy flush and her smile is wide. As much as I don’t like her being here on a Friday, one of the busiest days of the week, I have to admit, she looks more energized than I’ve seen in a while.
“Doris has come down with a stomach bug and Tina’s baby is sick.” She points her finger at me when I open my mouth, already knowing what I was going to say. “Don’t you start with me. I’ve already heard it from Judge and Trouble. I’m only here for today. Tina’s husband will be home tomorrow to watch the little one, so she’ll be in then.”