Jesse

by Jo Raven

  Right. “Where did he hear that?”

  “Kayla, I bet. Who cares?”

  But then why hasn’t Amber texted me or called me in all this time?

  “I swear I don’t get chicks,” I mutter, viciously stripping the label from my beer bottle. “With a guy we’d hash it out, punch each other bloody, then go for beers.”

  “Heh. Better not try that with Amber.” Seth snickers, though his gaze has wandered back to a certain dark-haired girl. “It won’t go down very well.”

  “Wasn’t planning on it.” But I don’t know what else to do. “I think I should let her go. Give it up. Hell, for all I know I’m harassing her with my gifts and calls.”

  “Didn’t you just hear me say she was happy with your flowers?”

  “Yeah. Micah heard from Kayla.” I make air quotes with my fingers. “Bullshit, man. I don’t believe it. She’d have called me if she believed me. And if she doesn’t, then who cares about the fucking flowers?” I rub a hand over my face. “Christ, I’m beat. Think I’ll head home to bed.”

  “First time I heard you call that apartment home. Wasn’t it Jackass and Co.?” He grins, and I snort.

  He’s right, though. “I haven’t had any problems with the guys recently.”

  They have been sort of… nice, in fact. Friendly. Gage even helped me make the muffins, and Travis, well he helped eat them. Idiot. As for Alex… I can’t figure him out, but he’s been hanging around, quietly loading the laundry in the machine and washing dishes.

  Can’t remember the last time I did the dishes, not in the funk I spent the last two weeks in.

  “Well, I’m leaving, too.” Seth gets up to go. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

  He takes a detour to talk to his cousin, Shane, and I hang back, not wanting to talk to the guys. Not in the mood. Depression clings to me like a grimy film, darkening the world.

  Seth performs a complicated handshake with Shane, says something to the others, and then we’re on our way out of the bar.

  The night air is cool. The streets are quiet, few cars passing by, although groups of people wander from bar to bar, laughing and talking.

  I remember watching them when I slept under the stars, wondering how it must be to not have a care in the world, to go out and have fun with your friends and not worry. And not fret. Not ache in your soul.

  Well, I was wrong. Looks like money doesn’t change the ways we hurt.

  And as we stumble through quiet back streets and stop, about to part and go our separate ways, that past returns with a vengeance to show me just how wrong I was.

  The blow catches me in the back of my knees, throwing me to the ground. Pain explodes across my jaw and I roll on my side, groaning.

  Right on time to see Simon and his goon beat on Seth with baseball bats, while kicking him in the ribs.

  “No!” I scramble to my feet and launch myself at them. “Leave him alone. Fuck off!”

  I kick and punch, but there are three of them, and Seth is out for the count, clutching his leg, his face white like paper.

  Whatever happens to me, I need to draw them away from him. This is about me, and it’s perfectly clear in my mind that, if one of us has to die tonight, it has to be me.

  Another blow catches me in the side, and I hiss at the burning pain. Grabbing my assailant’s bat, I drag him away from Seth. Pulling the bat toward me, I kick him in the shin, and as his grip loosens, I take the bat and swing at the other two.

  One of them is Simon—huge, pissed and with a gun sticking out of his belt.

  It’s ridiculous. I’m outnumbered, Simon wants my hide, and my only chance is to lead them to the main street where others might see them and help me. My only saving grace is that Simon doesn’t seem intent on putting a bullet through me. He wants to play, wants to see me rolling in pain, crawling and begging.

  “Come on, Simon,” I goad him. “Come get me.”

  He works his jaw, hefts the bat. “You little shit. You thought you could betray me? Report me? Thought I wouldn’t know?”

  Yeah, he’s pissed all right.

  “I was never loyal to you in the first place, motherfucker.” I spit at him, saliva and blood. I think one of my teeth is loose. “You think you can beat up whoever stands in your way? Fuck you.”

  He says nothing, moving in—for the kill, I think, and I swing the bat as I back away, toward the main street. At least they’ve left Seth alone. Simon’s beef is with me.

  Good.

  Block, parry—with a fucking bat, dammit, never imagined how heavy the motherfuckers could be—and I’m damn glad for those self-defense lessons Rafe gives us every week at the gym. Only, I have two thugs battering down on me, and the third guy…

  Dammit, where is the third guy?

  I lift my bat to block more blows, arms rapidly growing heavy, as I try to spot him. I manage to protect my side from yet another incoming, sidestep a kick—

  A blow on the head from behind drops me like a stone. I hit the ground hard once again. I think I see people heading toward us and yell for help, but I’m not even sure I make it as darkness swirls in my eyes.

  Oh fuck, is the last thing that goes through my mind, and then it’s quiet.

  ***

  Stench of chemicals and air so cold and dry it strips all moisture from your eyes.

  Fucking joy.

  Yeah, I hate hospitals. Although I’ve only ever been here for the tests I had, to make sure I haven’t caught any nasty disease from my previous lifestyle, I hate them.

  Lifestyle. That’s what the doc called it when he ordered the tests. Made it sound like a choice. Like an option.

  “How’s Seth?” I ask for the hundredth time, and I’m again ignored. “Is his leg broken?”

  “The doctor will be right with you in a second,” the nurse reassures me.

  As if that’s what I’ve been asking her. The hell.

  “Look, I’m fine. I just wanna check on my friend, okay?”

  “Please stay here until the doctor arrives to examine you.” She gives me a stern look and goes away, closing the door behind her.

  The fuck I will. I get up, slightly dizzy but well enough to walk, thank you very much. An arm wrapped around my ribs, my lower back burning like fire, aches blooming in every part of my body, I make my slow way out of the small room.

  Need to find Seth. A ball of dread has settled in my gut. I’m afraid they aren’t telling me what the fuck’s wrong with him.

  Because of me. He’s in here because of me.

  Fucking hell.

  I find another nurse on the way. She seems startled to see me wandering about, and she says something to that end, but I cut her off.

  “I’m fine. I need to find Seth. Seth Tucker. I’m family.”

  She opens her mouth to say something, seems to think better of it, and leads the way. She opens a door and hesitates. “Seth Tucker… he’s been admitted here before, a few months back. Another beating. You say you’re family. Is it someone in the house who’s beating you boys up?”

  I’m touched by her concern. Her hazel eyes are kind.

  “No, I say, it’s just—”

  “Bad luck,” Seth says from inside the room, and I push the door open all the way. “Motherfucker, I’ve been asking and asking about you and nobody would fucking tell me where you were.”

  The nurse departs, saying something about the doctor, and I take in Seth’s state.

  Well, apart from the new cast on his leg, he doesn’t seem too bad for wear. Of course, that cast is a big thing. Hard to miss.

  “Broken, huh?” I sink on the bed, bone-weary. “Shit.”

  “Told you I got shit for luck.” He shoots me a crooked grin. “Not your fault.”

  Yeah, right.

  Goddammit. Seth is still recovering from the beating he got from Ev’s psychotic ex-boyfriend, and now this.

  “I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so damn sorry.”

  “Shut up, J. I said it’s not your fault. In fact, I’m g
lad to see you alive. I swear I thought they’d kill you, and I couldn’t even move.” He winces as he shifts on the bed, and I remember the thugs kicking him and beating him with the bats. “We need to change lifestyle, buddy. Somewhere tropical with palm trees and cocktails would do in a pinch.”

  Lifestyle. That word again. I reach up to rub the back of my head and everything hurts. My side, my arm, my head. Ow, the back of my head is killing me. I can feel a lump there. My jaw hurts like a bitch, and I bet I have a black eye from the blow.

  Christ. That was close. A shiver travels through me, and I do my best to hide it, gripping the edge of the narrow hospital bed.

  “I need to talk to the police.”

  ***

  The doctor proclaims me well enough to leave, filling out a prescription of strong painkillers and instructions to return if I experience double vision or nausea. A policeman—detective? Not sure—comes by to take our statement, and he leaves thoughtful after I explain to him my history with Simon and his position in the street hierarchy.

  Before he leaves, though, he assures me Simon is going to jail, and will go on trial, and that’s good. It’s all I need to know right now.

  Because I have just found out, by chance, that Mel is here, too. Mel Carter, the owner of the taco joint. My friend.

  He had a heart attack soon after I left work. Not a very bad one, and it looks like he’s gonna be okay. His family’s here. His niece is apparently living in Madison, and she was listed as next of kin. She’s sitting by his side right now, and he’s smiling at her, partly proud, partly wistful. One hundred percent pleased.

  And also pale. Sickly. So different, and yet the same guy who offered me food and a temporary shelter in bad times.

  I’ve been peeking in from the half-open door. I don’t want to interrupt, and I don’t want him seeing me like this, limping, covered in scrapes and bruises.

  Don’t want to intrude. He’s finally gotten back what he longed for: His family. His niece is telling him her father is on his way. They’ll reconcile. He’ll be with them.

  I guess he’ll move back to the farm. Close down the taco joint. He won’t need me around anymore. Yeah, so I’m really happy for him. Fucking glad.

  Doesn’t make it any easier, though. I walk away, wandering blindly through the hospital, through brightly lit passages and halls, not knowing where I’m going and not giving a damn.

  Chapter Twenty One

  Amber

  Armed with the lion pendant that I’ve wrapped up in red paper, dressed in an old, white and yellow summer dress that flatters my curves—or so Kayla told me—I stand outside Jesse’s apartment. According to my meticulous calculations, he should be back from working at the café by now.

  I’m aware I’m taking a risk. He could be out. But Ev did say he doesn’t go out much these days. Or nights. Whatever.

  And if he isn’t in… Then I’ll call him. I’ve made up my mind not to wait any longer.

  The doorbell rings, and a second later the door swings open, held by a wild-eyed Travis.

  I take a step back, wondering what’s going on. “Hey, Travis.”

  “Amber. Is Jesse with you?” He looks around me, as if Jesse might be hiding behind my back. What with Jesse being so tiny and all…

  “Is he out?”

  “Yes! I mean, he isn’t here. Where he should have been, because we were going to bake muffins together.”

  I gape at him, wondering briefly if this is a hallucination. “You were going to bake muffins. With Jesse Lee.”

  “Yes. He said you taught him how to make them. Breakfast muffins. And he’s been really down recently, and I thought…” He stops, frowns at me. “Because of you.”

  Whoa. Just a sec. “He was down because of me?”

  “Read my lips.” Travis points at his mouth, which bears a smear of red lipstick. Nice. “He’s been staring at the drawings he made of you. Baking your damn muffins. Frankly, it makes me scared for the human race.”

  “You make me scared for the human race,” I mutter.

  “Why don’t you come in? You could wait for him, if you like.” He opens the door wider, and I notice he’s only wearing low-slung denim shorts.

  Trying not to stare at his well-defined abs and more traces of red lipstick on his pecs, I sidle into the apartment, slightly dazed.

  “You said he was supposed to be home by now?”

  “An hour ago. Normally I wouldn’t worry, but Jesse is like clockwork. When he says he’ll be there, he is. The man can’t lie and won’t break a promise. It’s not in his genes.”

  He can’t lie. He won’t break a promise. Crap. The evidence is mounting. He’s been telling me the truth all along, and I…

  Oh God. I didn’t believe him.

  “Amber is here,” Travis announces as he guides me into the living room, and I’m in for another shock.

  Jesse’s other two roommates are there, sitting and looking… somehow expectant. Anxious.

  “You found J?” the tall, wide-shouldered one asks. Cage, or Gage, my memory informs me.

  “Unless he’s become invisible or decided to wait outside his own home, I don’t think he has,” the other one says. Alexander something. He drags a hand through his chin-length, blondish hair. “I’m telling you, something happened to him.”

  “And what are you, a fucking medium?”

  “No, I just have a fucking brain, unlike you.”

  Travis groans. “Shut up, dickheads.” He turns back to me. I realize I’ve been standing there, open-mouthed, listening to this conversation.

  I close my mouth and clear my throat. Open my mouth again. “I never got the impression from Jesse that you were so concerned about him. I mean,” oh great, way to put your foot in your mouth, Amber, “that you were so close. Baking together and all.”

  “Goddammit, it was just one time,” Gage barks and looks contrite when I flinch. “Nobody bakes here. Nobody cooks. Not even Jesse. But Travis thought it wouldn’t hurt to learn how to make those muffins. Jesse seems to like them.” He grunts. “He seems to like you even better, but you vanished from his life.”

  I’m torn between laughing hysterically and crying. “Where is he? Have you tried his cell?”

  “No answer. Why don’t you try it?”

  “Me?” Laughter wins out. “I haven’t returned his calls or texted him back in weeks.”

  Three pairs of accusing eyes turn on me. Ow.

  Under their watchful gazes, I pull out my cell and swallow hard. “You know this isn’t going to work, right? You should try calling him again. Maybe his battery has run out, or…”

  They’re still staring at me. Well, well. I kinda think that, no matter what Jesse says or believes, he’s made lots of good friends. They’re even ready to bake for him.

  Who would’ve known?

  I shoot them a nervous smile and call Jesse’s number. I honestly don’t expect him to answer—not after I blew him off so many times. Not after telling him I don’t trust him.

  The call connects. There’s a pause, an indrawn breath.

  Then I hear his low, bass voice. “Embers?”

  God, I missed his voice so much. Missed him. “Hey.” I turn away. I don’t want his roommates to see me, in case I fall apart. “How is it going?”

  Another pause, and I’m afraid he’ll hang up, but he puffs out a sigh. “It has been… kinda rough, to tell you the truth. You okay?”

  He’s killing me, asking if I am okay. “Yeah. I’m fine. Your roommates were worried about you. Said you weren’t answering your phone.”

  “My roommates?” I can hear the curiosity in his question. “My cell… fell. Case cracked. I thought it wouldn’t work again, but it does. I just turned it back on.”

  “Oh, good. Stroke of luck.” Gage has gotten up and walked around the room to stand in front of me. Startled, I take a step back and give him a thumbs up. “So everything’s fine, then? Will you be coming back home?”

  “Home.” His voice cracks, and w
orry slams into me. “Damn, Embers.”

  “What’s wrong?” My heart starts to race. “Tell me.”

  “It’s just that…” He swallows so hard I hear it over the phone. “Is it really you? Is this a prank? Because I’m not up to it right now.”

  “It’s not a prank. I came over to your apartment to see you, and you weren’t here. Are you somewhere having fun?”

  He laughs softly, and I find myself smiling. “Sorta. I guess when the painkillers kick in it might be fun. I’m at the hospital, but I’m being discharged, so I can go home.”

  “The hospital?” I screech, my smile evaporating, and suddenly I’m surrounded by three huge, scowling guys. Eep. “Why? What happened? My God, are you all right?”

  “Yeah, but Seth… He has a broken leg, and he’s calling Shane to pick him up. Maybe he can give me a ride.”

  “The hell. I’m coming right now to pick you up. Where are you exactly?”

  He protests, but gives me the name of the hospital. St. Mary’s.

  “On my way,” I say. Love you. And I disconnect.

  The guys make as if to follow me out, but I nail them with a stern look, and they backpedal.

  Good.

  “He’s okay. I’m going to him, but I’ll call you later and tell you more,” I promise them. “I swear.”

  As if they could hold me back. Nothing can.

  ***

  The emergency room is a mess of crying children, yelling mothers, people moaning and weeping and talking. There’s an air of stoic suffering that gets to me whenever I walk into a hospital. Not that I’ve been often, thank God.

  I’ve also never had to look for someone admitted after coming to the emergency room, and cold sweat coats my palms as I look around for an information desk. Shaking the feeling a hundred pairs of eyes are trained on me, that the whispers going around are about me, making fun of me, saying mean things about me, I locate the desk and walk toward it.

  This isn’t about me. Not everything is about me.

  I need to find Jesse. Talking to him feels more urgent than ever. The thought of him hurt is turning my insides into knots.

  “How can I help you?” says the guy behind the desk, who’s multitasking with the phone receiver held between his ear and shoulder, typing something on the computer and looking at me in the friendly yet dazed way of someone about to tear at the seams.