Mended: A Salvation Society Novel

by Gabrielle G.

  She was a royal pain in the ass with her stupid joke, and I was so into my head I didn’t see she was pulling my leg. Maybe I did lose my touch at reading people. I would have done anything to see her face once she realized her baby wasn’t where she left it.

  “Whatever you’re thinking about, keep going because the drumming on the desk has finally stopped,” Mark says. My eyes find him across the table. Physically, he hasn’t changed much, but he’s not the Mark I used to know. He’s lost some and found love. Maybe that’s what changed him. Or perhaps it’s just around me that he’s not the eternal funny guy he used to be. Which is more or less how anyone treats me once they know my story.

  The one I tell.

  Only Naomi never treated me differently. She still ignored me most of the time and called me only when she needed a proper dicking. We didn’t have the most conventional marriage.

  “Oliver, stop that fucking noise, or I’ll shove the pen up your ass!” I put it down and focus on the white board. On the guy, I need to dig intel on and question his entourage. It’s not a big case per se. I did that for so many years, my phone buzzing from tips sent by a loose network I had created. One email could put me on the track of a liar. I was one of the best at it. Worked with those guys but with intelligence as well, and it’s like riding a bicycle. This case is too easy, or Mark is bullshitting me about the real reason we’re looking into him.

  “What do you need me for? That case is pretty straight forward. Check in the database, talk to the people who were supposedly serving with him. Collect the facts and then talk to the guy. It’s not about bringing him to justice or us getting some fame through YouTube, it’s about getting to the bottom of the facts and not have civilian use of our name and reputation for getting glory that no one deserves.” I remind him.

  If I loved what I did for years, it’s not a glamorous job. Telling a family their late war hero is an imposter or confronting a guy who has stolen the valor of our country because he needed to feel admired, is nothing to feel good about. It’s not about shaming the ones who saw a way to stroke their ego, but about protecting what you believe in and the lives we lost in duty. If being a soldier and serving your country is an honor, faking being one is, for me, the biggest disgrace there is.

  “Spencer, don’t be a dick. You know it can take months, and I don’t have the time.” Mark sends me a stern look.

  “And you think I do? I thought I was coming for a complicated case where you needed my help. You could have sent me all the details by email, and I could have taken care of that shit from home with my son on my lap. I don’t ask for much Mark, but not coming to Virginia was one, and I showed up here for one reason and only one, because you needed my help.”

  My chest tightens, thinking of the real reason I came here.

  To free myself from the truth, to tell my once upon a time friends and Elaine’s family, I’m the reason she died, to rip off the bandage and let it heal once and for all. But if I was standing in front of two doors right now, denial written on one and truth on the other, I would choose denial and go back home.

  Take my son in my arms and ignore the state of Virginia. Worked well enough for me in the last five years.

  “Want to tell me what really happened to you, brother?” Mark says, handing me a tissue. Beads of sweat are falling on my lap, and I didn’t even realize.

  It was easier to pretend in New York than here.

  Maybe because no one really sees me there?

  Because I’m mostly alone?

  Because I’m not so close to the grave I never visit, to the life I used to live, to the people who used to know me?

  Closing my eyes, I focus on my son, my sister, my bar, and let go of the rest.

  Nothing else matters but those three things. Nothing else is important. Nothing else deserves to be.

  I take a breath then another and let images of my son flood my brain—his smell, his hands, his soft little skin, and all the noises he makes when he sleeps. I find the strength to get up and walk.

  Without a word, I leave Mark behind and get in the kitchen to call Naomi. As usual, she shoots straight forward when she picks up.

  “What the fuck is going on, Ol? You’re needy and clingy. Much more than usual.” Her face fills up the screen, and I’m so glad we’re best friends. She’s beautiful, smart, loving with our son, and always honest. When I was too present during the pregnancy or too over-protective, she let me know. When she needed me more because Lars was on a European tour with the band and I had to be there for her, she asked.

  “It’s harder than I thought.”

  She smiles, understanding. She didn’t go back to Tokyo to see her father and promised herself she never will. The same way, I promised myself I would never set foot here again.

  “So come home?” She simply says.

  If only it was that easy.

  “Na!” Lars interjects behind putting his head on her shoulder. I never was jealous of those two. I knew when I married her that I wasn’t the one she loved. That’s why I did it.

  It was easy, comfortable, sexual, but it was no love like I had with Elaine.

  It was a great friendship, but nothing heart-altering.

  “Ol, buddy, you need to stay there and get your shit together. Our son needs the best father he can have, and as long as you haven’t dealt with your demons and haven’t stopped shoving your head in the sand like the ostrich that you are, you won’t be.” They are the picture-perfect of what I thought I would have.

  “Talk to him, handsome while I go get our baby. You know he’s not calling to really talk to us,” Naomi says before leaving the room. And there I am left facing the stepfather of my son.

  “Look, Ol. I’m not saying going over your shit is easy.” His hair falls into his eyes, hiding the understanding look he always gives me. Our relationship has been rocky, but since the pregnancy, we have developed a kind of friendship. Lars Trouble is an awesome man, a rock you can count on, a friend who will do anything for the people he loves. “But we all know you have more things going on than what you let us see. Anna is worried sick but doesn’t want to show you so not to upset you. She’s enabled a lot of your behavior and shit over the years, and marrying Na the way you did, without telling her, made her really worried about your abilities to ever be truly happy again. Dan is… well Dan. He won’t do shit if Anna tells him not to.” I nod, trying to keep my emotions in check.

  Knowing I hurt my sister is hard to hear. I can’t stand having anything happen to the only person who was here for me all my life. My chest tightens again, and my leg goes back to bouncing. Nevertheless, because Aito is going to be on the screen any moment and I know Lars has the best intentions at heart, I let him continue. “Na and I, it’s different. You’re family because she chose to have a child with you. I chose to be in that life with you two knowing it would be complicated and shit. We’re a triad without the sexual advantage of it for Na. So… I’m going to say it once. You need to deal with the life you left behind in Virginia, you need to mend your wounds, you need to get your shit together. If you don’t want to do it alone, Na and I will come. Some things are going on with Art, but I will come to help you first because you’re the father of our son and the best friend of my girlfriend. But you’re not coming home until you have talked to Elaine’s parents and lift the weight off you’re carrying around. Is that understood?”

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  “Oh, hello there,” Lars says to someone behind me. I was so focused on what he was saying I didn’t realize I wasn’t alone anymore. Of course, it has to be fucking Tessa interrupting.

  “I’m sorry, but are you…” She looks at me and then at Lars, and at me again.

  “Yes I am,” Lars nicely says, used to people being starstruck seeing him.

  “And you’re friends with that thief?” Tessa says, pointing at me.

  Lars chuckles.

  “Did he take something that didn’t belong to him? Not the first time.” Lars laughs
at the same moment Naomi and Aito enter the screen.

  “Do you mind?” I ask Tessa, “I’d like to talk to my son, alone.”

  Looking at her was a mistake. She rips my soul apart, but while at it, gives me an understanding nod.

  “Ol,” Naomi says, “since when are you so rude to beautiful women?” Lars doesn’t say a word but raises an eyebrow waiting for my answer. Tessa is still here, looking at me intensely, focusing on my lips for an answer.

  Both doors are standing in front of me again.

  Truth or Denial.

  I could say because she puts me out of my comfort zone, she unsettles me and makes me believe that she can see through me and recognize my pain. I could say because I’ve never been more attracted to someone since my fiancée, even though I’ve known her for less than twenty-four hours. That I didn’t have the will to jack-off thinking of her last night even if I was hard as a rock because I didn’t want to dirty her that way.

  Or I could say because she’s an asshole and not that pretty. That I’m not sure who Naomi’s referring to, but I don’t see anyone beautiful in here.

  Truth or Denial.

  But by the time I’m ready to open my mouth, Tessa has beaten me to it.

  “Because he’s too afraid I can see through his bullshit. I feel it too,” she says before leaving the room without a glance toward me. My eyes follow her, ignoring the laughter and the comments about me looking like a sad puppy coming from my screen. I’m pretty sure Naomi and Lars are right. How can't I feel like she owns me when she has the balls to choose truth when it isn't the door I was leaning toward.

  I turn my attention to the screen and my son, talking to him, hoping he understands I’m here, and I love him even if I’m far away for a few weeks. But in the back of my mind, I know I felt better the moment I realized Tessa was in the room.

  The storm within me is coming to peace and she has a lot to do with it.

  I finish the call and thank Lars for his few words of wisdom, promising I’ll think about it and call them if I need them to come.

  I’m about to hang up when Lars stops me.

  “One last thing,” he says. “You’re fucked, buddy. And that’s a great reason to stay in Virginia.” Or not…

  Chapter Eight

  TESSA

  Rude thief.

  Obnoxious jerk.

  Anal retentive mess.

  Sexy as hell barman.

  Hot as sin father.

  I stop my thoughts from where they are going.

  I am not attracted to that guy.

  He’s neither sexy or hot, and the fact that he’s a single father is not the cutest thing on earth.

  It’s complex and fucked up but not cute.

  Not at all.

  His story has been in every tabloid in the past months.

  The brother-in-law of Dan Darling has a child with the girlfriend of Lars Trouble. It sounds complicated, and a world apart from mine, and I shouldn’t want to have anything to do with him.

  No one should consume my thoughts but King.

  No man should make me feel the same way I did the first time I met King.

  No green-eyes should haunt me.

  King had blue eyes. That’s why my hair is blue. For him to always be with me. For me to have a part of him, I can carry with pride.

  “Tessa, are you listening?” Jackson asks.

  “Of course, go on,” I say before diving back into my Oliver dilemma. Who has a child with a woman when she’s in a relationship with one of the sexiest men the music world has given us? Is it a sad story where he thought she would choose him? Did he get the little piece of his heart that was left, ripped out from his chest, and stomped on? How did he have the strength to go on after his fiancée died and have a child with someone else?

  “Tessa! What’s up with you today? You seem more distracted than usual. Are you alright?” I’m about to nod when I hear a scoff coming from my right.

  “She’s just met Lars through a screen,” Oliver says in a snarl, “so now she’s on cloud nine.”

  Rude thief.

  Obnoxious jerk.

  Anal retentive mess.

  And jealous asshole.

  “You like rock stars now, Murdock? I thought you preferred your men with a little more muscle and less artsy vibes?” Mark says with a smug look on his face while flexing his biceps.

  I’ve learned with time that ignoring Mark is the best you can do for your sanity when he decides to be funny and flirty like now. I don’t even roll my eyes or flip him the bird and continue my analysis of Oliver Spencer. Because after stealing my car yesterday, he ripped me from my lucidity.

  I’ve spent the night thinking about him. I might have started with a plan for revenge but ended up overthinking every one of his moves. From imagining his hands on the steering wheel of my baby to his ass walking away from me or his glare in the elevator, I was lost in Oliver all night long, and he hasn’t left my brain since.

  As if it wasn’t enough, I had to learn that he’s a single father.

  I mean, what kind of monster would I be if a tall, well-built man with a baby wouldn’t turn me on?

  Imagining his veiny muscular arms holding that tiny baby of his. Those lips kissing his head. That voice singing a lullaby.

  “Did you just moan?” Mark asks while I get warm from my toes to my cheeks. New Tessa doesn’t blush.

  New Tessa doesn’t get aroused.

  New Tessa doesn’t moan.

  “Of course not, I’ve something in my throat,” I cough, focusing on the conference table while Jackson and Mark laugh at my expense. A slight grunt comes to my attention, and I turned my head to see Oliver with a burning desire in his eyes.

  He shakes his head and gives all his attention to Mark and Jackson.

  “What were you saying?” he asks.

  I look at his profile. His squared jaw, high cheeks, strong neck make me think of those models you only see on social media. I clear my throat again to suppress my craving.

  “Maybe I could help in a way if you want to.” I say to gauge the discussion I missed while day-dreaming about Green-eyes.

  Mark shakes his head. “The situation is difficult because we know the guy, and we can’t approach him. I know earlier you thought the situation was easy, Oliver, but it isn’t. We need to be discreet. You can’t have people knowing what we’re trying to discover, and some high ranked people asked for our help because of our discretion and your reputation.”

  “And isn’t she supposed to only drive me around?” Oliver asks his chin jerking in my direction.

  “Yes, and because of this, we can’t really have you linked to us, though. If it goes to shit—”

  “I know you already told me this morning!” Oliver cuts Mark off. “Look, you called me for a reason, right?” Mark and Jackson nod, but it’s clear to me the reason they called Oliver has nothing to do with who he used to be and everything with what he’s become. Those are friends giving a hand to a guy who has serious issues keeping his shit together and coming back from hell.

  “I’ll help the best I can!” I say still not really knowing what all this is about, but deciding on a whim, I’ll help the sexy asshole. That’s how I make every decision after all, by listening to my gut and not to overthink it.

  “You’ll drive, and that’s it,” Oliver answers a little harshly. Jackson nods.

  “I can do more than that. I’m sure I can give you a hand in whatever you need.”

  Oliver shifts on his chair, his eyes glaring at me like yesterday, but instead of the dislike, I see the heat. They dance between hate, fear, and desire and awaken in me a lot of things I never wanted to feel again.

  “Not a chance!” Oliver says between his teeth. “I don’t think you’re reliable.”

  My heart freezes, but my blood boils into my veins.

  I never thought someone could make me feel such contradictory emotions in so little time. Feeling the anger, I have channeled into all my activities since King died,
coming back to the surface, I turn to Mark and Jackson and ask, “can you give us a minute?” They both nod, too happy to leave the room and the tension that has built between Green-eyes and me.

  Turning my body to face him, breathe in deeply to tell him what I have to say in the calmest way possible. There is no need for me to be seen as crazy when he already thinks of me as unreliable. He faces me, his body oozing irritation. I fall into his eyes, and they reflect precisely the inner battle I’m fighting. Exhaling loudly, I try to ignore my body and speak my truth.

  “I recognize the grief in you.” I start, and he freezes right away. “I went through it. But I think you’re still deeply in it. I don’t think you have your shit as together as you pretend to.” He tries to interrupt me, but I don’t give him the opportunity to. “You don’t hear me sharing my opinion around and making hard judgments out loud. I respect your grief, and I believe that there is more to the guy you’ve been since you arrived. I’m not going to tell you I’ll be there for you and listen to you because each grief leaves behind different scars that only you know how to heal, but I will tell you that I won’t let you put me down and diminish my effort to live life the way I intend to. I’m not new in a world where men are preeminent, and I refuse to let you treat me like the only thing I could be good at is to warm your bed. I see the glances, I feel the heat, I recognize the signs, and you’re going to have to use your hand for a long time before I fall into your arms. I will drive you wherever you need, unless you want to explain to Mark why you don’t need me. I haven’t figured out—”

  In one move of his chair, Oliver is in front of me, his legs imprisoning mine. His hand on each side of my thighs burn my skin, and desire rises inside of me. He smells like spices and citrus, sexy and sweet, and the words that were on the tip of my tongue disintegrate like my will to fight him.

  My body is like a November morning: chilly, foggy, and dancing in the grey area of life. I want him. I want his hands at the seam of my jeans, pressing on my clit. I want his lips to devour me and his tongue to play with mine. I can’t stop the longing I have for Green-eyes, and there is nothing I can do to stop it. I feel as if my mind has left my body and is watching the scene from afar. I lean closer, wanting to taste him and to feel his mouth on mine, and he seems to be wanting it too, but when our lips are almost touching, Oliver halts. His breath is like a caress to my soul, and the pit inside of me needs his kiss.