Jesse

by Jo Raven

  “Amber? Is everything okay, were you running?”

  I snort. “Ev. No, I wasn’t. I’m heading to the post office.”

  “I’ve got some news for you. About Nick Harris.”

  Frowning, I change the cell to my other ear. “What did you find out?”

  “Nick has found God.”

  I blink. “You’re kidding me.”

  “I’m not.”

  “He’s a priest?”

  “No, not yet anyway. But he’s openly repented in the church he attends about his past ways, and has promised to do only good from now on. He volunteers for charities, helps out with the homeless… You name it.”

  “Can’t believe it.” I rub my forehead. I can feel a headache starting. “He was a frigging bully, for chrissakes.”

  “A repentant one. Also some awful stuff came out about his family. His older brother bullied him, too, apparently.”

  “Not good enough,” I grumble. It isn’t. Wasn’t Asher also bullied by his father? I remember the story Ev told me. But he turned out just fine. “Not even close.”

  “I know.” She sighs into the phone. “Anyway. I wanted to let you know, oh and that he works for an event organizer. The one who organized Asher’s and Audrey’s wedding reception. No wonder we both saw him there. He must have found your address on the guest list.”

  “Crap.” Fear shudders through me.

  “Look, I got to go now. Come have a coffee with me in the afternoon? There’s this new café near State Street, and Kayla might drop by, too. We can talk about this.”

  I get the name and address of the café, and promise to go. Then I disconnect and let out a long breath.

  Coffee with the girls is always fun. There will be some gossip and plans to go shopping, or do our hair or watch a movie. I love those girls. Yeah, Kayla has been growing on me, too.

  But truth is, I can’t take my mind off Jesse, and I can’t wait for evening when he’s off work to finally see him.

  ***

  After a morning of running about, mailing my packages and shopping—I love Kayla, but her dinner options are a toss between tortilla chips with dip and ice cream—I’m looking forward to meeting the girls and grabbing some lunch there.

  Stomach grumbling, I put away the groceries, drink some cold water, and head back out. Tall trees line part of the street, foliage rustling, throwing dappled shadows on the sidewalk. I pull down my sunglasses and squint up into the bright sunlight.

  “Amber!” someone calls, and I stiffen. “Can we talk?”

  Nick Harris is striding toward me, dressed in a blue T-shirt with a smiley face on it and white shorts. His handsome face is drawn into a small frown.

  His hated, arrogant face, the face that sneered at me and laughed at me too many times to count while he and his minions broke my pens, tore my notebooks, called me names and circulated awful rumors about me.

  “Why would I want to talk to you?” I bite out the words, surprised that the tremor inside me doesn’t reach my voice. “Go away, Nick. I’m not weak anymore.”

  “You never were,” he says, and I wait for him to catch up with me, not even sure why. “Would you have coffee with me?”

  “No, I wouldn’t.” Is he serious? “What do you want?”

  “Fair enough.” He smiles, rubs his chin. His blue eyes are clear when he looks back up. “I know I hurt you in the past, Amber, and since I found out you were back in town, I wanted to talk to you.”

  “Why?” The million dollar question.

  “To say I’m sorry.”

  His words hang in the bright sunlight, incongruous and unexpected, despite what Ev told me this morning.

  I don’t know what to say, how to react. Is everything okay because he’s sorry? Can I forgive him? He pushed me to the very edge of sanity. He pushed me until I thought life wasn’t what it’s cracked up to be. That ending it might be a solution.

  I turn to go, my muscles shaking with the need to start running until I can’t go on anymore. “Good for you,” I whisper.

  “Please.” He circles me, holding out something. “My card. Take it. I know what I did was unforgivable. But who knows? Maybe one day you will find in you to forgive me. If there’s anything I can do for you, all you have to do is ask.”

  Okay. Who is this guy, and what has he done with Nick Harris? I take his card, numb, nod, and watch him walk away.

  Jesus. With a shudder, I stick his card into my purse and draw in a fortifying breath. I survived the meeting. I faced my bully and didn’t flinch. Didn’t run away.

  A smile spreads on my face. I did it. I faced my fear.

  With this, I figure I’ve had my dose of unwanted encounters for the day. Things can only get better, right?

  So it’s a shock to my system when I arrive at the café on Lake Street and find Cassie outside, by the door.

  Blond hair loose, dressed in a long dress, she looks like a fairy.

  An evil fairy.

  I stop and face her. I’m on a roll. “You. I don’t believe Jesse came onto you. Not for a second.”

  She shrugs, her mouth downturned at the corners. “I never said he did.”

  I gape at her. Words are failing me. I never thought she’d admit it.

  “You and everyone else assumed he was the one who flirted with me and kissed me. You have no faith in him, and you’re right not to.” She pushes off the wall and sighs. “I’m doing you a favor, don’t you see? Jesse is like me: he doesn’t like attachments. He’s not the kind of boy you need.”

  “But I’m the kind of girl he needs,” I say, finding I believe the words as they spill from my mouth. “And even more importantly, he’s the boy I love. So I’d appreciate it if you stopped getting in the way.”

  Looks like the strangeness of the day isn’t yet over, but damn, saying those words to the bitch’s face sure felt good.

  Chapter Twenty

  Jesse

  Weaving through the familiar narrow streets and back alleys, I try to ignore the feeling I’m being followed, because that’s just… paranoia. Nobody’s behind me when I turn.

  Except for a tall shadow that vanishes behind a dumpster.

  Still… No. Just no. Get your shit together, J.

  Jason is having a quick smoke behind the Golden Dragon, a new Chinese restaurant near his usual spot. He gets up when he sees me, a dark brow arched, and whistles. “Man, who pissed on your parade?”

  I pull out my pack of smokes and light up, then rub at the stubble on my chin. “Aren’t whores supposed to be sensitive and empathic and not ask such stupidly blunt questions?”

  “Really?” He looks impressed. “I guess I never got the manual that came with the job. Neither did you, from what I recall.”

  I give him a half-hearted grin and suck the bitter smoke deep into my lungs. I’ve smoked so much in the past two weeks my mouth tastes like acrid ash and my voice is rough like sandpaper.

  “What brings you over here?” Jason’s eyes glimmer over the lit end of his cigarette. “In my empathic whore role, I’d ask if it’s woman trouble, but not in your case. So what’s up?”

  I frown. “And if it is? Woman trouble?”

  He laughs long and hard, choking on smoke. “Okay. That was a good one.” He throws his cigarette to the ground, steps on it, and coughs. “Almost got me there with the serious face, dickhead. One day, though. I have hopes for you, pretty boy.”

  One day that has come and gone.

  “Just checking on you,” I mutter. “S’what friends do.”

  “Yeah, well. We’re doing okay. Though I was gonna come find you. Rumor has it you reported Simon.”

  “I did.”

  Jason does a double-take. “The hell you did.”

  “What? You said I should. In fact, if memory serves, you said if I don’t do it, more people will get hurt.”

  “Shit. I thought it was just rumors.” He shrugs. “Not that it makes any fucking difference.”

  “What do you mean?” My cigarette has burn
ed to the filter, scorching my fingers, and I throw it away. “A difference to what?”

  “To Simon knowing you reported him.”

  I was about to pull another smoke and I almost drop the pack. “What the hell do you mean, Simon knowing? How could he know?”

  Jason shakes his head, not a hair moving out of place in his perfectly styled hairdo. “Had you followed? Followed you himself? Happened to be there when you entered the police station? Fuck me if I know.”

  I remember the feeling of being watched at the station, and out, on the street, and suppress a shiver. “Why would he be following me?” The scars on my arm ache. I rub one of the deeper ones absently. “How the fuck would he know where to find me? It’s been years since the attack.”

  Jason shoots me a shrewd look and cocks his head to the side. “You tell me, J. You never told me much about that night, or what happened afterward. You and Simon, you have history, don’t you?”

  I press my lips together and lean back on the wall, kicking a foot up to rest on the smooth surface. “History. Sounds dirty.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  “Time you told me the story. It’s been years, man.”

  I sigh. These are things I never told a soul. I hedge, rub my face, search for my smokes in my pocket.

  Jason waits me out, until I start talking.

  “That night wasn’t the first time Simon came to me,” I finally say. “Somehow he’d decided I’d be a good fit for his gang. So he cornered me again and again, insisting I join. I said no. I don’t do gangs, guns and drugs.”

  The rules Helen set for me before she vanished.

  Jason is leaning forward, brows lifted. “Go on.”

  “That night… he wanted me to submit to him.” I open my mouth to say more, but the words fail me. Dammit.

  Jason lets out a low whistle. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  I nod.

  “Holy shit.” He fumbles for his pack of smokes. “Didn’t know he’s batting for my team.”

  “Maybe he isn’t. See, it’s about control and dominance, or some shit like that.” I googled it on Gage’s laptop one night when I woke up drenched in sweat, my mind playing the events of that night in a never-ending loop of horror.

  Suddenly Jason grabs my arm, his eyes round as saucers, and he looks sickly pale. “Dammit, J, he didn’t… He didn’t manage to force you, right?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “Shook the motherfucker off and kneed him in the balls. Could be why he went into a rage and broke a fucking bottle on my arm.”

  “Christ, J.” Jason snorts, shoulders shaking, then releases my arm and glares at me. “It’s not funny.”

  “Never said it was.”

  A beat of silence.

  “Is that why you left right after?” Jason asks.

  “I went to a group home for a while. I didn’t feel safe here.”

  His turn to nod, gaze turned inward, and I really hope he isn’t reliving some dark memory of his own. “And now?”

  Now… I glance around in the gathering darkness. “He only has to make one wrong step, and they’ll take him in. Meanwhile… Watch your back, Jason.”

  “You, too, baby. Take good care of that gorgeous body for me.” He winks at me, gives me one of the lazy grins that nets him both men and women, and turns to go. “See you around.”

  ***

  Although in front of Jason I pretended not to give a shit, on my way to work I jump at shadows and imaginary footsteps. I arrive at the taco joint out of breath, my heart slamming against my ribs as if trying to escape.

  Jesus Christ, man. This shit is really getting to me.

  “Ho, boy.” Mel scowls at me as I grab the baseball cap with the joint’s logo and ram it on my head. “Slow down. Someone after you?”

  “No. No one’s after me.” I grab the bags of greens and start tearing them open, pouring them into a bowl. “How’s business tonight?”

  It takes Mel a long moment to reply, and when I look up, my brows draw together, because he’s sweating, his face red as if with fever.

  “Business’s fine,” he finally says. “Isn’t it your night off tonight?”

  I shrug. Better working than having time to think. “You okay, Mel?”

  “Sure I am. Too warm tonight.”

  Well, he has a point. Inside the joint it’s pretty hot. “Why don’t you go sit outside? I’ve got this.”

  “I’m sure you do.” He chuckles, but doesn’t get up. “Said I’m okay, boy. Make sure there’s cheese and chilies ready in the bowls.”

  “Yessir.”

  “Hey, you know how I ended up here? Did I ever tell you the story?”

  I glance back at him, surprised. I’ve never heard him talk about his past. “No.”

  “Ah, well, it’s a long one. To keep it short, I used to live on a farm, back when. My family owned cattle. We grew up there, my brothers and I. Those were good times.”

  “Didn’t know you had brothers.” I pretend to check the chili bowl, curious to hear more.

  “Two of them. Howard and Dale.” He wipes at his brow with a big, gnarled hand, and for the first time ever I wonder how old he is. I thought maybe he’s in his sixties, but he looks older tonight. “We inherited the farm when my parents passed away, one after the other. Heart attack, and cancer.”

  I wince in sympathy.

  “I didn’t want to stay on the farm after that. I wanted to see the world, live in the city. We had a fight, my older brother Howard and I. So I packed up and left. I traveled a lot, hitched rides on cars and trucks and boats. I walked across Europe. I went to China.”

  The chili bowl forgotten, I lean forward, straining to catch every word. “China. Wow.”

  “Yeah, that was something.” He chuckles. “A vast place. Weird people. Kind, too. Different. I thought that was the farthest from home I’d ever be, and I thought I’d be happy. Well, I was wrong on both accounts.”

  “Why?”

  “Because, boy, I wasn’t happy. And the farthest from home I’ve ever been is here, not thirty miles from the farm where I grew up.”

  “So close?”

  “Right around the corner.” He shakes his head, scratches his arm, swats at a fly. “While I was away, Dale died. He fell from his horse and broke his neck. Howard got married, had four kids. And I am here.”

  Alone. He didn’t say it, but I can hear it loud and clear.

  “You want to go home,” I whisper.

  “I do, but it’s been so long since I last talked to Howard I can’t bring myself to call. You know how it is.” He sighs. “Pride. Resentment. Distance. But I’m old, boy, and not growing any younger. When you reach my age, you’ll realize that home is where your heart is. If my brother came to me now… Hell, I’d sell this shithole of a place and move back in a heartbeat, know what I mean?”

  I nod, loath to tell him I have no clue. I mean, sure, when you have no roof over your head, no real family, you appreciate friends like nothing else. So Helen was my home for a while.

  But what I also learned during my fun teenage years was that the people you care for may vanish from your life and leave you in the cold just as easily. With Helen gone, my home was gone, and I was left mourning.

  As for Amber… Amber hasn’t answered, hasn’t acknowledged my gifts, my cards, my words. All I scribbled for her, letter by painful letter. Christ, I’ve sat and stared at the drawings I made of her. I tried baking breakfast muffins the way she taught me. I dreamed of her. Remembered how her skin tastes, how her hair smells.

  Hell, I’ve even found myself buying coconut shampoo and coconut soap, because the scent reminds me of her.

  But it doesn’t matter, does it? It never does. Maybe it’s time to give up, leave her in peace. Maybe that’s what she really wants.

  Oh come on, Jesse Lee. Don’t be all surprised and shit. Nobody gives a fuck that you love her, that you want her. That you’d do anything for her. You wanna sta
y with her?

  Nah. Don’t you know it yet? You’re just too much damn trouble to keep around.

  Regards, The World.

  ***

  Mel closes shop early tonight. He insists he’s fine, which is bullshit, but I hope all he needs is a good night’s rest. After I help him lock up, I head home, worried and damn tired. Despite the exhaustion, I feel ready to snap, a headache hammering behind my eyes.

  So when my cell rings and it’s Seth, asking if I’d like to grab a beer, I’m game. I’d be game for anything right now, to be honest. Hell, I’d drink gasoline and light myself on fire. Anything to stop the thoughts churning in my aching head.

  We meet in Halo, our usual place, and huddle around two bottles of Abita Amber. Shane and Ocean are there, too, shooting pool and cracking jokes.

  “You okay, man?” Seth lifts the bottle to his mouth for a swig and regards me over the rim. “You haven’t looked up from your drink since you arrived.”

  I shrug, look up at him to make a point, and go back to studying my fucking beer.

  “Still no word from Amber?”

  I shake my head. It has to stop hurting at some point, right? Has to, or I’ll go mad.

  “Man, that sucks ass. But at least you still have a chance.” He upends his beer, swallowing it down, then glances at the pool table.

  A chance?

  I follow his gaze and find again my nemesis. Cassie is leaning against the bar, dressed in hot shorts and a short blouse that leaves her taut belly bare. Beside her is Manon, sleek, pretty and the object of Seth’s current obsession.

  I frown at her. “What chance?”

  “A chance, man. Unlike me. I’m unlucky. Always getting the wrong end of the stick.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Manon. She’s with someone. I even saw her with the guy, dammit. So yeah.” He raises his bottle and drains the last drop from it. “Sucks.”

  “Seth, focus.” I remove the bottle from his hand and shake it at him. “Amber. Chances. Does it ring any bells, or were you talking out of your ass?”

  “No, man.” He slouches back in his chair and rotates his bad shoulder with a wince. “It’s just that Micah heard that Amber was happy with the flowers you sent her. That’s positive, right?”