“Cecily,” he said.
I didn’t answer, repulsed and pissed off that it was too late for a legitimate getaway. I backed up and stepped on the toes of Ben’s sneakers.
“Hey.” Ben laughed and nudged me forward into my brother, whose expression said he’d just slid a steel shaft between my ribs and was looking to see my reaction. The glow in his eyes was something akin to Cujo’s.
“Both of my children under one roof,” my mother said, coming from the kitchen and wiping her hands on a dishtowel.
I wanted to remind her that we’d been under her roof together for eighteen years. She just hadn’t noticed. I looked past Jarod to my mother. “You told me he hadn’t responded to your call.”
She flashed a guilty smile. “Out of the blue,” she said, raising her palms to show her surprise.
“That’s a lie. You knew.”
“Cecily,” Ben said from behind me.
“I’m not staying. I won’t.”
“Of course you are. No work tonight.” She wrapped her fingers around my wrist and pulled me inside.
I looked at Ben. His eyebrows raised in question. I saw in his face that he understood something was wrong, he just didn’t know what. How could he? I hadn’t told him much about Jarod except that we’d never gotten along and with the seven-year span between us that was understandable. We didn’t have much in common, I’d once said to Ben, though I hadn’t supplied the details, like Jarod tended to torture the cats that I brought home to feed. Mostly I hadn’t told him because I was both afraid and ashamed of my brother. He was a low-life fuck-up. Not the prep school, country club set that Ben had grown up with.
I followed my mother into the kitchen hoping dinner was on the table and we could sit down and get this over with. Jarod, on my heels, brushed past me and took two beers from the frig. He motioned Ben into the living room where ESPN blared from the television.
“How’s tricks?” he asked, “literally,” and laughed at his moronic joke.
I knew without seeing that Ben would smile in acknowledgement, Mr. Nice Guy.
“Actually, I don’t get many of those, sticking with more corporate stuff these days. That might be a question for your sister.”
I stepped into the room and took a seat on the couch, regretting that I’d never explained to Ben the depths of Jarod’s erratic behavior or the absolute necessity of keeping a safe distance from him.
“Oh I got a lot of questions for my sister.” Jarod looked at me. “It’s time I called in a few favors.”
I took a long chug of my beer and cursed myself for not having run the minute he opened the door.
My mother poked her head into the room and announced dinner. I got up from the couch prepared to swallow the meal in record time. Ben walked ahead of me toward the kitchen, my brother behind him, but before we reached the table Jarod turned to me. His smile faded into something sinister and threatening. “You’re gonna help me,” he said.
I clenched my teeth and didn’t speak, hoping the answer radiated from my eyes. Fuck you.
When we were seated, it was my mother who spoke first. “Jarod has something he’d like to discuss with you,” she said.
I realized then that I’d been suckered. The two of them had come up with their own little plan and I’d walked right into it.
“It’s about a restraining order,” Jarod said after a spoonful of rice. Pieces dropped onto the tablecloth like maggots falling from his mouth.
“You need a restraining order?”
“I got one on me.”
“What a surprise.”
“Don’t gimme your shit. I can make quick work of you.”
I could see Ben’s head come up from his plate at that, but I didn’t look at him.
“This bitch I been seein’ decided she’s through, and took out a restraining order on me so I can’t get near her.”
“Why do you need to?”
“’Cause all my shit’s in her apartment, our apartment. The one I’ve paid rent on for the past year. Now I can’t even get in to get my stuff.”
“You have the right to go in once accompanied by a police officer and get what you need.”
“I did that, but I need more.”
I shook my head. “It’s too late. You can’t.”
Jarod laughed. “Well, I did.”
“You broke in?”
He nodded, grinning. “Spent a night in jail for it too. Now she wants to make it permanent so that I’m not allowed within two hundred yards of her or my home, ever. I’m fighting it. I need you to come to court with me, vouch for me, ya know?”
I almost choked. “Are you kidding?”
He shot me another look.
“What did you do in the first place to warrant her getting the order?”
“Nothin’.”
“I’m sure.”
“Cecily,” my mother broke in. “They’ll listen to you. They know you down there. They’ll respect your opinion.”
“Mom, Jarod lives four hours away. The hearing won’t even be in Portland.”
“Don’t matter,” Jarod said, depositing more rice on the tablecloth. “You work in the DA’s office. Your buddy, the head honcho, can make some calls on my behalf.”
“Absolutely not. I’m not ruining my own or anyone else’s reputation for you.”
“He’s your brother,” my mother chimed in.
“He’s sick.”
“Cecily,” I heard Ben say. I ignored him.
“You better fucking help me if you know what’s good for you.”
“I wouldn’t help you if my life depended on it.”
“It just might, bitch.”
“Fuck you, Jarod.”
Before I could get my hands up to block it, his full mug of beer sailed over the table and connected with the side of my face, soaking the front of my shirt before dropping into my lap.
“Merciful heavens,” my mother yelled.
I grabbed my napkin and held it to my cheekbone, then raised my eyes to his. “Smart woman, that girlfriend of yours.” I took the cloth away from my face and saw the blood. I looked at Ben. He was looking from me to Jarod, his mouth hanging open. I pressed the napkin to my face.
“I’ll get ice.” My mother jumped up.
“Don’t bother,” Ben said, standing so fast his chair fell backward. He took my elbow and pulled me up. “We’re going to the hospital.”
I looked at Jarod. He glared at me from the other side of the table.
Ben guided me from the room and led me straight down the hallway and out the front door. I kept waiting for Jarod’s bottle to hit the back of my head.
“Are you okay?” he asked once we were backing out of the driveway.
I nodded, trying with all my might to hold back the tears. My cheek didn’t hurt, but the embarrassment was almost intolerable.
“What the hell’s wrong with him?”
I shrugged, keeping my eyes on the houses that slipped past, too ashamed to look at Ben.
“Was he like that as a kid?”
I thought about the time he’d tied me to the tree and another time when he’d locked me in my closet for three hours. I’d peed on the floor and when my mother came home he told on me and I got grounded. I was too afraid to tell the truth. Afraid that if I did, the next time would be worse.
“Yeah.”
“Why didn’t your mother do something about it?”
“She did.”
“What?”
“She prayed.”
At the hospital they put two stitches in my cheek, gave me a cold compress to hold against it and asked Ben to leave the room. When he was gone, the nurse asked if I wanted to press charges. I told her no.
She shook her head. “Nex
t time might be worse.”
I thought about refusing to help Jarod with the restraining order. “I know,” I said, “but it’s not him.” I nodded toward the door. “It’s my brother and you’re right about it getting a whole lot worse. It’s just a matter of time.”
“All the more reason to do something now,” she said.
“I’ll think about it,” I told her, knowing there wasn’t a chance in hell I’d go after him.
When we got home, Ben set me up on the couch with an ice pack and sat beside me.
“Why haven’t you ever told me about Jarod?”
“I have. I told you to stay away from him because he’s a jerk.”
“A jerk is a little different than what I saw tonight. He’s abusive and violent and you should press charges.”
“I’m not pressing charges against my brother. You don’t know him. A split cheek is one thing. If I press charges, he’ll take it to a whole other level.”
“Is that the advice you’d give a client?”
“It’s different, Ben. This is family and there’s already enough shit in my family. I don’t need to create more.”
“That’s a cop-out.”
“The situation is humiliating. I don’t want everyone at the courthouse knowing about my personal life or my childhood. I didn’t want you knowing about it either.”
“Well, I know now and we’re not letting this go.”
“Yes, we are. It’s my decision and I’m not discussing it again.” I got up and walked out of the room.
The Red Sox game came to life behind me and I went in to the bedroom fighting an urge I knew I’d lose to in the end. I sat on the trunk as though that could keep me from opening its worn wooden top. My eyes fell on the yellowed photograph on my dresser. My grandmother’s face looked back. I wondered if she already knew the question I was about to ask the board and if she did, was she disappointed in me? After all, he was her grandson. I lifted the lid to the trunk and slid out the board. Locking the bedroom door, I laid it out in front of me, took a deep breath and reached for the disc. Is Jarod a danger to me? I whispered to the board.
The current slid up my arms and settled as always around my head. I squinted against visions of my brother and my ears rang with the deranged cackle of his laugh. He came stumbling toward me, a fireplace poker embedded in his stomach. A growing circle of blood blurred the word Metallica on his T-shirt. I stepped away from him and when I did everything went black and I felt myself falling. I was on my back when I opened my eyes, spinning like an out of control merry-go-round. Jarod had looked fit to kill. I wondered if that’s exactly what I’d done.
Chapter Nineteen
The next morning I walked into the Psych/Rehab department at Maine Medical Center.
“Sorry, no visitors,” the nurse at the desk said. “You can come back at two o’clock this afternoon.”
I held up my ID. “I’m Hilary Wainwright’s lawyer. I need to talk with her now.”
The nurse eyeballed me, skeptical. “Room 627,” she said.
I nodded and turned down the hallway.
“Rise and shine,” I said, walking into Hilary’s room right behind an aide wheeling a metal cart full of trays. “Breakfast is here.”
“Smells like shit.” Hilary swung her feet over the edge of the bed.
“Probably is. That’s about all the city can afford.”
“What the hell happened to you?” she asked, seeing the white gauze taped to my cheek. “Had dinner with Jarod last night.”
“He hit you?”
I nodded. “My mother invited Ben and me for dinner. A ploy to get me there so Jarod could ask me to appear in court on his behalf and tell the judge what a swell guy he is. Needless to say, I said no.”
“And he hit you?”
I nodded again.
“That fucker.” She pounded her fist into the mattress. “What’re you going to do?”
“Nothing. Hope he crawls back into his hole and I don’t see him for another five years. Never would be better.”
“Fuck that. Why don’t you press charges?”
I smiled. That’s what I’d come for: Hilary’s in your face, no nonsense, no fucking around advice. Do what you have to with no hesitation, like when she’d hit him over the head with the shovel.
“Thanks,” I said. “That’s exactly what I needed. Why are you in here?”
She shrugged and reached for the tray the aide had left. “The food, of course.”
“I’ve got to go.”
“That was a quick one.”
“Sometimes I just need to see you.” I stood to leave and lifted her face to mine with my hand under her chin. “Hurry up, will you?”
“What difference does it make? You know where to find me.”
I started to say that I wanted to find her in Starbucks or at the park or even at home with Duane, but the caution in her eyes stopped me. She knew what I was thinking. That was enough.
* * *
Thankfully, the moment I walked into my office, the phone rang, giving me something to do besides stare out the window scared shitless of what my brother’s next move might be.
“I talked with Wainwright,” Marquette said.
“How’d you pull that off?”
“Needed my oil changed. Crusty old guy, smells like a brewery. How the hell did he keep the garage while he was in prison?”
“Did you ask him?”
“Didn’t want to bring up a bad subject.”
“He owned it outright before he went to jail and his sister held the rights to it while he was in Thomaston. So it just sat there waiting for him to get out,” I said. “At least that’s what Hilary told me. So did he?”
“What?”
“Talk to you?”
“Right up until I asked if he’d ever employed someone by the name of J.D. Dobbs, then he turned pale as a baby’s butt and shut me down. Said he didn’t remember anyone by that name and that he had to get back to work. Got up, walked away and that was that.”
“Well, that confirms a connection and it doesn’t sound like a good one.”
“Mmm, I’m thinking that connection just might be the money we never found.”
“And now Dobbs is back for his share?”
“Possibly, but I’m not sure where Hilary fits into it. I’ll let you know when I get something else.”
I knew he was ready to hang up, but I was reluctant to let go. I needed a solid foothold for my wobbly legs, and like Hilary did, Marquette had a way of making me feel stronger than I was.
“Maybe we should go out for a drink,” I blurted out while my heart beat the crap out of my chest.
He hesitated for what felt like forever.
“I’d like that,” he said sounding a little surprised.
“You know, just to talk things over.”
“Sure, but it’s only ten o’clock. A little early, don’t you think?”
“How about coffee?”
“Are you okay? You sound a little off.”
“Starbucks in a half-hour?
“See you then,” he said.
* * *
Marquette walked through the door at Starbucks and slipped a pair of aviator sunglasses into his shirt pocket. Hot was the word that came to mind. He was wearing worn jeans, cowboy boots and a black sport jacket. I reminded myself that I was happily cohabitating and watched him go to the counter to order.
“Hi,” he said and slid into the booth.
I felt myself blush, thankful that a black girl’s blush is something most white people can’t see.
“What happened?” he asked.
I realized then that I hadn’t called him here to discuss Dobbs. It was Jarod I wanted to talk with him about. I just didn’
t know where to begin. So I opened my purse and took out my wallet, then I handed him a small white business card. “Do you remember this?” I asked.
He held the card with both hands and a slow smile spread across his face. “You’ve still got this?”
“I couldn’t seem to throw it away. You were the only person besides Hilary that saw the dysfunction.”
“Your mom seemed a little out of touch.”
“A little?”
He shook his head, took a sip of his coffee and then looked at me. “So what happened this time?”
“I refused to help him get a restraining order dropped.”
“Smart woman.”
“Me or his ex?”
“Both.”
“I’m a little nervous what his next move might be.”
“You think he’ll retaliate further?”
“I don’t know.”
He sat for a moment without speaking, his eyes on something beyond my head. “How good is your boyfriend?”
“What?”
“Protection-wise.”
“Oh. If it’s something he can put on paper or spout off in front of a jury, he’s a genius.”
Marquette smiled. “Not much for brute force, huh?”
I shook my head.
“Give me your address. I can hang around outside your apartment tonight. If your brother shows up, I’ll happen to stop by at the same time and Ben won’t have his manhood hurt by knowing it was prearranged.”
“How do you know his name?”
“There you go again, underestimating me.”
“I’ve never underestimated you. That’s why I still have that.” I pointed to the card between his fingers. Our eyes held for a minute and that blush crept back up my face. “I better get to work,” I said.
In the parking lot, I touched his arm. “Thanks, Marquette.”
“It’s Nick.”
“Nick,” I said, liking the feel of his name on my tongue and the fact that he wanted me to say it.
“Sleep tight tonight. You’re safe. I’ll be right outside.”
I smiled and started to turn, but he reached for my arm and pulled me back.
In the Shadow of Revenge Page 11