by Banks, R. R.
She cocks her head and gives me a curious look. “You guys only had sex once?”
I nod. “Yeah. Just that once. And we used a condom.”
She whistles low and chuckles ruefully. “Wow. Talk about lucky. I mean, who gets pregnant after having sex one time with someone? And after using a condom? Remind me to never ask you for lottery numbers. Or – maybe I should.”
I laugh despite myself. Jessa is obviously trying to lighten the mood. I can't help but hear the note of reality in her voice though. I mean, she's not wrong. The luck I have is shit. Like they say, if it weren’t for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all. I have sex with Aidan once – and even though we were completely safe about it – I still turn up pregnant? What the hell?
“You know,” she says. “Maybe this is fate, or the universe, or God, or whatever you want to call it, sending you a message.”
A wry grin touches my lips. “Yeah? And what message might that be?”
“That maybe, just maybe, you and Aidan are supposed to be together?”
I laugh so hard, it feels like I’ve pulled a muscle in my stomach. I put my hand over my belly and continue to laugh until it eventually fades away.
“How do you figure that?” I ask.
“Think about it, Kat,” she says. “What are the odds you get pregnant like that? I mean, seriously, what are the odds?”
She's not wrong, I mean, the odds have to be steep. But, it's not unheard of. And I'm not convinced this is some divine intervention telling me that Aidan and I are meant to be. I'm not a big believer in fate anyway, and this – regardless of the long odds – doesn't change that belief.
“Yeah well, the message I'm getting from Aidan is very different anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that it's been a month since we had sex,” I say. “And he hasn't contacted me once. He hasn't come into the bar, nothing. He's vanished.”
“He hasn't vanished,” Jessa says. “He's still hiding out up there on his mountain.”
“Yeah well, it doesn’t seem like he wants anything more to do with me after getting what he wanted. Couldn't wait to get me out the door,” I say. “And the fact that he hasn't made an effort to contact me since – I'd say that message is strong and clear.”
“Maybe,” Jessa says. “And yeah, ghosting you is a total asshole move. But, have you tried contacting him?”
“I shouldn't have to.”
“No, probably not,” she says. “But, it takes two to make a relationship work.”
“This isn't a relationship, J.”
“Not at present,” she says. “But, I can tell you kinda want it to be. I can see the way you light up when you talk about him.”
“That's fear, Jessa,' I say. “I'm pregnant with his kid, I have a psycho ex stalking me – one who will probably kill me if he finds out I'm carrying another man's baby – not that he's not going to kill me anyway, and I have no idea what I'm going to do about any of it.”
“One thing at a time, babe,” she says. “I'm talking about before all of this. You should have seen yourself whenever he walked into the bar. That glow around you would have lit up half of Ashton Mill. You were his long before you ever slept with him.”
I chuckle. “Shut up.”
“God's honest truth,” she says. “I'm not gonna lie about that.”
“Yeah, well, it doesn't matter,” I say. “He doesn't feel the same way.”
“He might, you don't know,” she presses. “You haven't asked him.”
“Isn't that his job? To make it known that he wants me?”
“And you call yourself a feminist,” she laughs. “What kind of bullshit damsel-in-distress thinking is that? You're a strong, independent, fierce woman, Katie. Sometimes, you have to fight for what you want. Sometimes, you have to step up.”
I laugh and shake my head. “I'm not quite that evolved.”
“Maybe it's time you learn to be,” she says. “From everything you've told me, he's an introvert. He barricades himself in that house up there and obviously lacks some normal social graces.”
“That's true.”
“Then maybe, what happened after you two banged, wasn't so much a matter of him wanting you out, or being done with you,” she says. “Maybe, it was a case of him not knowing what comes next. Ever stop to think about that?”
The truth of the matter is no, I hadn't stopped to think about it in those terms. That maybe, he was so taken aback by it all, that he didn't know what to do any more than I did.
“Look, all I'm saying is that more might be going on here than meets the eye,” she says. “Don't be so quick to judge. And you're going to have to talk to him about the baby anyway. So, as long as you're there, stand your ground and make your case. Fight for what you want, Katie.”
“What I want is for my psycho ex to disappear off the face of the planet,” I say, fear rippling through me. “If he finds out –”
“We'll cross that bridge if it comes to it,” she says. “We'll handle it. But, one thing at a time. And the first order of business is you talking to Aidan about the fact that you're carrying his baby.”
I sigh and lean back against the soft couch cushions. “You seem awfully invested in the idea of us being together.”
She shrugs. “Like I said, I saw the way he lights you up inside. It makes me happy for you, Katie,” she says. “I've never seen you genuinely happy, and it's a nice change of pace. I want to see more of it.”
I give her a smile and squeeze her hand. If it was only that easy.
Aidan
Davis stayed at my place for a couple of days before blowing out of town again, saying he had a gig down in Atlanta for some superstar country singer. It was good to have him with me, and I was sorry to see him go. Same as always. He gave me a lot to think about. A lot to ponder. And of course, he gave Oliver someone else to play with, which he appreciated.
I'm sitting in my office, reviewing some documents Marcus had forwarded to me earlier that day. It's a new project he wants to bid on but needs my approval before moving forward with. I stare at the words on the screen, trying to focus, but failing miserably at it.
All I can think about is Katie, and what Davis had said. Yeah, I’m an idiot. It's been a month, and I'm a major asshole for not even attempting to talk to her. I can only imagine what she thinks of me at this point.
I need to do something about it. I know Davis is right. I know I handled that whole situation badly. I’m sure Katie feels like shit. And, it’s all because of my hang-ups and insecurities. She probably feels like I used her for a fuck, and then threw her away like trash when I was done. I can't blame her for thinking like that, no matter how wrong she is.
The truth of the matter is – what I feel for Katie scares me. She's special. Someone I could really get attached to. But, I know that until I get over myself, and work through my own issues, I’m not going to be good for anybody, let alone a woman as special as Katie. She deserves better than I can give her – better than I have given her.
But, at the very least, I need to set things right with her. Maybe, if I do that, we can start laying the groundwork for something more, down the line.
I lean back in my seat and pinch the bridge of my nose. My head is a damn whirlwind of thoughts and emotions right now. Most of them about Katie – and Maddy, of course.
Davis spent a lot of time trying to ease my conscience about sleeping with Katie, telling me over and over again that I hadn't betrayed Maddy, and that I'd done nothing wrong. That I deserved to move on with my life and be happy. That it's what Maddy would have wanted.
And although a small part of me wants to believe in his words, I can't find it within me to absolve the guilt that still courses through my veins. Davis' talks helped. They gave me a perspective I hadn’t considered before. It's the one definitive negative thing about isolating myself up here in the mountains – all I have to sift through is the toxic shit in my own head. So, Davis' thoughts and input were a welcome re
prieve from my own twisted thinking.
But regardless of everything we talked about, the grief and the guilt are still there. Like always. And I don't know how in the hell to purge myself of them completely.
I stare at the framed picture of Maddy on the wall. Her smile is wide, her eyes are sparkling, and her cheeks are flushed with excitement. She was the most beautiful woman in the world, and I never felt good enough for her.
As I look at her, her smile forever frozen in time, and know I'll never see it again. It makes my heart ache with the pain of her loss once more.
Is Davis right though? Do I deserve to move on? Do I deserve to be happy? Intellectually, I know I couldn't have prevented what happened to her. Not unless, like he said, I was with her twenty-four-seven. Knowing that though, doesn’t make the situation any easier, or blunt the sharp sting of my guilt any less.
Like I said, there's a lot of shit going on in my head right now, none of it very good – and all of it preventing me from doing any actual work.
One thing he said that's stuck with me though, is that I need to make things right with Katie – and he’s not wrong. Davis gave me an endless amount of shit for how things went down after we had sex.
What could I do though? It was awkward as hell. I hadn't intended to sleep with her. It just kind of – happened. I let myself get caught up in the moment. Once it was over, the reality of what we had just done came crashing down on me, pulling me back down to Earth.
The way she'd bugged out of here, I realize now, that I'd probably made her feel like shit. Katie probably felt used. I never wanted to make her feel that way. I was just too caught up in my own shit. It was a total asshole move. Unintentional, but an asshole move nonetheless.
And I need to make that right.
I take another look at Maddy's picture and then over at Oliver, who's lounging in a wide beam of sunlight on the office floor. He raises his head as if he's intuited that something's happening.
“Want to go for a ride, buddy?”
Oliver heaves his big body up off the floor and starts panting happily, that goofy doggy-smile on his face once again. There are certain words and phrases he knows and gets very excited about. “Go for a ride,” is one of them.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
He turns in a circle, chuffing at me, before sprinting out of the office. I hear his nails clicking on the hardwood floor as he dashes out to the front room. I shut down my computer and head out to join my faithful canine companion. When I walk out to the front room, he's sitting patiently, head held high, next to the cabinet where I keep his leash and my key fob.
I hook him up in his harness, grab my keys, and head out. Oliver makes a beeline for the truck, pulling me along with him. I open up the door and allow him to hop in, making himself comfortable on the passenger seat. He always rides shotgun. There’s no point in trying to get him into the back seat or the cargo section of the SUV – it's as if he feels the rear of the car is reserved for lesser beings.
I climb in behind the wheel and push the button to start the engine. Oliver looks at me, tongue hanging out the side of his mouth as if waiting for me to oblige his unspoken want. Which I do. As he grunts happily, I roll his window down, just enough to fit his head out. He loves the feel of the breeze on his face, as I guess, most dogs tend to do. I scratch him behind the ears, and he sticks his head out the window, right on cue. I laugh as I put the truck in gear, and head out.
The road down the mountain is long and winding, but the view of the valley beyond is spectacular. Everything is so green, and the forest stretches on as far as the eye can see. Maddy would have loved this place – well, except for being so far from civilization, anyway. I'm positive she would have enjoyed it as a vacation home, though – a place we could escape to and unplug from the world.
The trip down the mountain takes about half an hour or so, and Oliver has his head out the whole way, his ears and tongue flapping in the breeze. It takes another ten minutes or so for us to get into Ashton Mill proper and find a parking space on the main drag.
“Okay, buddy,” I say. “You just hang out here for a minute. I'll be back.”
Oliver looks over at me and chuffs, then sticks his head back out the window, watching me closely. I used to worry about people messing with him if I left him in the car on his own. But, he's grown to the size where most people try to avoid him. He's better than a car alarm.
I get out and hit the button on the remote, locking the doors, and heading into the Hail Mary. The place is nearly deserted, with only the hardcore drinkers hunched over the bar, their faces in their drinks. The place is decorated, reminding me that Halloween is coming up, which sends a dark current of fear flowing through me. I do my best to shake it off, but it lingers. Living up on the mountain like I do, I'd almost managed to forget about it.
But, here it is, smacking me in the face once more.
Clearing my throat, I ignore the cobwebs, giant spiders, and tombstones being put up all over the place. I see Jake standing behind the bar, staring down at his phone, but Katie is nowhere to be found. Damn.
With a sidelong glance at the decorations, and nearly overwhelmed with the familiar sense of trepidation I have this time of year, I walk over to the bar and lean on it. Jake doesn't seem to notice me and continues typing away on his phone, so I clear my throat. He looks up, giving me a lopsided grin, and I can smell the marijuana coming off him from where I'm standing.
“Sorry, man,” he says. “The old lady is really bustin' my balls today.”
“No worries,” I reply. “Katie here today?”
He looks over at me and shrugs. “Nah, man. She's off today.”
“Know where I can find her?”
“I dunno,” he says. “I don't keep her schedule, man.”
I stare at him for a moment. He's clearly not understanding what I'm asking. Clearing my throat, I try again.
“No, do you know where she lives?” I ask. “I need to see her.”
He glances back down at his phone and frowns. “Sorry, bro, I can't give you her address.”
“It's important.”
He looks at me, seeming to be growing impatient with my questioning. Then the light of understanding, or maybe just recognition, seems to dawn on him. I can practically see the light bulb going off over his head. He snaps his fingers and points at me, as a grin spreads across his face.
“You're the dude who beat the shit out of Leon a while back,” he says. “I remember you. Good on you, man.”
“Great, thanks,” I say. “I really need to talk to Katie. It's important.”
The kid goes on like he didn't even hear me. “When Leon came back in after that night, his face was all bruised up!” he crows. “Said he's gonna beat your ass. The guy's all talk if you ask me. It was so awesome watching you bust his face like that, man.”
“Listen to me, Jake,” I say. “I need to talk to Katie. It's very important.”
“Personally, after seeing what you did to him the other night, I don't think Leon stands a chance. I mean, what was the Kung-Fu shit you pulled on him, anyway? That was awesome.”
I let out a long breath, trying to keep my frustration under control – which Jake isn't making easy, by any means. I get that he's excited to see a bully taken down, but I'm not here to go over the play by play. I'm here for information, and he's really not helping me out. I'm not a patient man on the best of days, but Jake is really pushing me to my limit.
“Jake,” I say, my voice low and gruff. “Listen to me for a minute.”
Amazingly enough, he stops talking and looks at me, cocking his head like a puppy listening to his owner. That's a start, I guess.
“I need to find Katie. I need to talk to her,” I say. “And I need you to tell me where she lives.”
A smile stretches across his face and he nods. “I get it, man,” he says. “Yeah, I get it. She was really pissed at you that night.”
I ball my hands into fists in my pockets and grit my te
eth. “Yes, she was,” I say, though the situation is far more complicated than he realizes – not that I'm going to enlighten him any. “And I need to set this right.”
My voice is tight, and my frustration is threatening to spiral out of control. Stoned as he might be, Jake is still testing my patience right now.
“Yeah, I still can't tell you where she lives,” he says. “It's like, against the law or something. Sorry, man.”
He's right, it is against the law for him to tell me. But, I couldn't give a shit about that. He has information I need and I intend to get it from him, by whatever means I have to resort to.
“I really am sorry, man,” he says. “I'd like to help you out, but I don't want to get into trouble. I can't afford to lose this job. My old lady is bustin' my balls about money enough as it is. I can't even imagine what she'd do to me if I lost my gig.”
And there it is. Everybody has a soft spot. A chink in the armor. In business, you have to be subtle enough to find it, then smart enough to exploit it. Jake's soft spot is money. Good for him. I've got plenty of it.
Standing up, I fish my wallet out of my pocket and pull out five hundred dollars. I lay the bills on the counter in front of Jake, making sure he can see what it is I'm laying out, and watch his eyes grow wide. He looks from the money up to me, and opens his mouth to speak, but remains speechless.
“It’s important, Jake,” I say. “Very important.”
“Listen, I –”
I pull a couple hundred more out of my wallet and add it to the five already there. Jake looks at me, obviously torn. I can see he wants the money – is desperate for the money, actually. He's looking at it like a starving man might look at a buffet of food.
“You really that stupid, boy?”
I look over at one of the barflies, an older man with thinning white hair, and a face deeply etched with wrinkles. He flashes me a yellow-toothed grin and tips his head at me.
“Ain't like it's a national secret or nothin',” he says. “Ashton Mill ain't that big. Everybody knows where everybody else lives anyway.”