Torrid - Book Two

by Jayne Blue

  I fetched the attic key from Miranda’s dresser and went to unlock the attic door. I made a slow ascent, gripping the railing tight. At the top of the stairs, I switched on the overhead fluorescents and cruel light flooded the room.

  It didn’t look like anything had been disturbed since my last venture up here. I knew Jack’s father’s things were mostly along the right-hand wall. Earlier, I’d found his roll top desk, an old computer and a chest filled with family photos, including his parents’ wedding album. It was to that I went. I knelt before the old cedar chest and flipped open the lid. The albums were stacked to one side and the rest of the chest was filled with loose photographs. I couldn’t take everything, but I wanted to give Jack at least something when I met him tomorrow. I set the wedding album on the floor next to me and sifted through a few of the photos.

  I found a studio picture with his whole family taken maybe just after his younger sister was born. Jack himself couldn’t have been much more than two in this one. He smiled wide at the camera with fat cheeks, his baby sister propped in his lap. She looked about ready to topple over and his mother knelt close by, her smile genuine and wide, as though the photographer had caught her in a laugh. I put that picture on top of the wedding album and dug my hand down further in the pile.

  I found a few other photos that made me laugh out loud. A maybe twelve-year-old Jack wearing a green-and-white football uniform, his helmet tucked under one arm. His parents stood on either side of him beaming with pride. I took that one and a few others. I found a school picture of Jenny, his younger sister; she looked about fourteen. This would have been just before she and his mother were killed. I pawed through more pictures, wishing I could take them all.

  My hand hit something hard. Another book or album well below the avalanche of loose photographs. I carefully pushed them aside until I could grip the binding and pull the book up. It wasn’t an album at all, but a ledger or journal. I reached down and felt a few more like it. I pulled out four of them. They were identical, with worn brown bindings. The pages inside were mustard yellow and written in slanted block script.

  My heart tripped when I realized whose hand this was. These were Jack’s father’s journals. I flipped through a few pages. He’d written formulas and codes that might as well be in a foreign language to me though it was clear they were meticulous. But peppered throughout were notes and random thoughts he had. He’d dated each entry and I flipped to the first page. January 20, 1990. That entry detailed a meeting he had with Jack’s teachers. It was written in a kind of shorthand with bullet points. He had concerns about Jack’s writing and reading comprehension. In the margins, his father had written titles of books on learning disabilities and dyslexia, and a doctor’s name.

  My heart broke a little as I flipped through the next pages. Jackson Manning had taken his son to specialists to address his reading difficulties and he wrote notes on each meeting. He noted therapy appointments and different test results. In large print, circled so many times he tore the paper, he wrote: I.Q. 147!!! This volume chronicled a father trying desperately to understand why his brilliant son struggled. As the entries went on, I saw the beginnings of a plan forming. This is where Jackson started experimenting with different computer programs that I knew would later form the basis for inventing his own software to help Jack.

  I picked up the next volume at random to look at the date it started. I quickly realized I was holding a record of essentially more than a decade of Jack’s father’s life. The first journal started in January 1990, and the last entry of the fourth volume was dated October 15, 2003. I held the last volume close to my breast. Tears welled in my eyes for the gift these would be to Jack. Miranda had taken so much away from him in those last years. Now, in some small way, I had the power to give some of it back.

  I stacked the journals on top of the wedding album and tucked the dozen or so loose photographs inside the pages. This was as much as I could physically carry for now. I scooped everything up and headed downstairs.

  I went to the spare bedroom I had used for my own; I slid everything into my worn leather messenger bag. I had my father’s files in my suitcase. I set them side by side against the wall near the door. Then I sank down on the edge of the bed. I folded my hands in my lap and looked at them. In a few hours, I would leave this house and never look back. The contents of that bag and suitcase were the only things I would take with me when I left. They contained the means to bring back both Jack’s father and mine.

  I heard the sharp beep of the house alarm downstairs. Seth was back. My breath hitched in my throat and I stood. I crossed the hallway and went back into the master bedroom to wait for him.

  I didn’t feel nervous. My heart rate wasn’t crazy, my palms weren’t sweating. I felt oddly calm. As though I’d trained for and imagined what would happen next for so long, the actual events were welcome. It was go time. I checked my phone on the charger dock next to the bed. I would set the voice recording as soon as Seth came to bed. The thing could run for hours though somehow I knew I wouldn’t need it. I set the screen to dark just as Seth finally walked into the room.

  I turned toward him, stretching myself out on the bed. I played the part of the eager wifey, waiting for hubby to come home after a long business trip. Yes, the negligee was part of the illusion, as was the dash of perfume I put behind my ears.

  “You look good,” Seth said. His eyes were slightly hooded when he walked in, but his step was sure. I’d gauged right. He’d had a few drinks, but not too much. Not yet.

  I came up on my knees and moved to the edge of the bed closest to him. Seth leaned down toward me and I wrapped my arms around his neck, drawing him into a slow, consuming kiss. I still felt Jack’s lips on mine, his touch on my skin, but I chased those thoughts away. They wouldn’t help me now.

  “Come to bed, baby,” I said. “I’ve been waiting all day for you.”

  Seth smiled and purred against me. “I need a shower first.”

  “Hurry,” I said. A part of me wanted to offer to go in with him. If I left him in the bathroom alone too long, he might start popping the pills I knew he took every day now.

  “Five minutes,” he said. “Then we can talk.” He pulled out of my arms and went to the bathroom.

  So far so good. I heard the shower start and the cabinet door slam shut as Seth got a towel. The next twenty minutes might be key.

  He came out of the bathroom with his skin still glistening wet, a towel slung low around his hips. He bounced on the bed next to me, making me jump. Fat droplets of water rained from his head as he shook it just like a yellow lab. I squealed when he got me wet with it. He dropped the towel and pulled me against him. He had an erection already and my heart finally started tripping in my chest. So Seth had been drinking, probably, but he wasn’t drunk. I hoped it wouldn’t come to anything physical tonight but had been prepared for it. What was one more time?

  “This is silk,” I said with my best fake laugh. “You’re going to ruin it.”

  “Then take it off,” he said.

  “Can we talk about your trip first?” I asked. “I’ve been dying to ask you questions.”

  “One for me, one for you,” he said, his words a little slurred. “I mean it, take that off.”

  I took a breath and turned away from him. I stood and pulled up the hem of my silk nightie. I cast it aside after I got it over my head. I opened the drawer of my night stand and folded the garment. With one hand, I slid it into the drawer and closed it. With the other, I swiped the screen and pressed the record button on my phone. As soon as I switched the screen back to dark, I turned to face Seth.

  He reached out and tweaked my breasts. First one, then the other. Gooseflesh rose over me and I focused on keeping my breathing level. “Come closer,” he said.

  He sat in the center of the bed, leaning back against the headboard. He motioned for me to straddle his lap. His erection pressed hard against me with only my silk underwear between us.

  He fondled my
breasts as we started our conversation.

  “Jeffries was good,” he said. “He’s going to publicly endorse me next week.”

  Seth said other things. He talked about his campaign manager and some hot button issues Jeffries wanted his take on. All the while, Seth’s focus stayed hazy as he ran his fingers across my nipples, between my breasts, and cupped my ass.

  “It sounds like you got everything you wanted then?” I said. I started to feel pins and needles in my feet from straddling him this way so long. But Seth was talkative and calm and I wondered whether I really would need him angry in order to admit to something.

  “Almost,” he said and his tone raised alarm bells in me.

  I bit my lip. “What else is there?” I finally said, taking his bait.

  “You already know,” he answered. He picked that moment to gently grasp each of my nipples between the thumb and forefinger of each hand. It wasn’t cruel and he didn’t hurt me, but something flared in his eyes as he looked up at me. He was testing me. Would I bring up Pagano or would he have to?

  I took a breath. One beat, two. Seth just stared at me, his fingers still grasping my nipples like radio dials. It was a deliberate sort of claiming. Somehow even more overt than if we were actually fucking.

  “You want to talk about the George Pagano issue?” I said, keeping my tone neutral. “Have you talked to him since we got back from Virginia?”

  “Have you talked to him?” The question surprised me. I’d done nothing to give him any indication that I would have. But I had been lying to him all along, just not about this.

  “No,” I answered.

  “He called me,” Seth said. “He wanted to know how you were.”

  Finally, I swatted at Seth’s hands. “Cut it out,” I said, genuinely angry. “Don’t be an ass.”

  He put his hands at my hips but not before giving my nipples one last squeeze. I shifted off his lap and sat in the space beside him. “Do you really need his financial support to be successful in this? Are you telling me there’s no other way to win?”

  “It’s not just financial,” Seth sighed. He threaded his fingers together and rested them behind his head. “Pagano has major influence with a lot of the trade unions. One word from him up or down and it’s my whole future.”

  “So what did he say when you talked to him?”

  Seth turned on his hip and lay alongside me. He traced circles on my shoulder. “He said he wants to meet with you.”

  “I said cut it out,” I said. “It’s not happening.”

  Seth shrugged. There was a smirk on his face that I didn’t like one bit. I didn’t love him. Didn’t actually consider myself his wife but the whole thing gave me the creeps just the same.

  I slid off the bed and stood with my hands on my hips. “What are you thinking, Seth? Are you just teasing me or are you lying there actually thinking me screwing George Pagano for you is something I would do?”

  “I’m not worried about him.”

  “Why not?”

  “Don’t worry about why not.”

  I picked up a pillow and threw it at him. He deflected it and it landed dangerously close to my cell phone charger. Luckily it fell just short and Seth grabbed the pillow, tucking it behind his head.

  “No,” I said. “I think you don’t get to change the subject or blow me off on this one. I’m pissed, okay? George Pagano’s an asshole and everyone says he’s a dangerous asshole. He tells you he wants your wife to spread her legs for him if you want him to support you and you’re lying there like it’s nothing. I have a right to know what you’re going to do about it.”

  “George knows not to mess with me too much.” Seth yawned and closed his eyes. He shifted to his back again and for a moment looked like he was actually going to go to sleep.

  My heart slammed in my chest like a sledgehammer. We were there. If Seth was ever going to tell me the details, it was right now. I slapped him in the shoulder. Not hard, but to get his attention. His eyes snapped open and darkened.

  “I don’t believe you,” I said. “I think you’re full of shit, Seth. Why in the world would George Pagano be afraid of you?” I put the full force of my contempt for him on that last word.

  He didn’t move. He stared at me, his eyes flicking over my face like he was working something out behind them.

  “Your mother, I understand,” I said. I took a step back but kept my posture with my hands on my hips. Seth sat up and draped a hand over his bent knee. He glowered at me as I kept going. “He told me she was the reason he was willing to get behind you in the first place, Seth. He said he wasn’t sure if you’d be any good without her pulling the strings.”

  “Fuck you.” Seth’s tone was low, barely audible. The corner of his left eye began to twitch, a sure sign that he was starting to come unglued. I looked around the room for something to grab in case he came at me. I meant what I’d said to Jack. I wasn’t truly afraid that Seth would lay his hands on me but I had to at least consider the possibility.

  “I’m just telling you what he said. You’re acting like Pagano is no big deal. Like you don’t take him seriously. I want to know why.”

  “You don’t need to know why,” he said.

  “Yes I do!” I raised my voice then. “This became my business when Pagano decided to drag me into it. You know what else he said? He said he wanted to meet me to see if I was as smart as Miranda was. He wanted to make sure somebody competent could tell you what to do. Now why would he say that if he didn’t believe you needed it? He is not afraid of you, Seth. Wake up!”

  Seth got up. He stared me down and there was real menace in his eyes, but he kept the bed between us. He made no move to touch me.

  “Tora,” he said. “I’m wide awake. And I’m warning you to shut the hell up about this.”

  “Or what? You’re going to actually make me go through with fucking George Pagano for you? Is that your grand plan?”

  “Would you?” he asked. It took me off guard for a moment. I couldn’t tell if he meant it as a legitimate question or not so I turned it back on him.

  “Would you ask me too?”

  He balled his fists at his sides but still he didn’t move from the other side of the bed.

  “I need a fucking drink,” he said.

  It was the last thing I wanted. He was pissed but in control of himself. I didn’t need to take a bigger risk.

  “Answer the question first,” I said. “If you don’t have another way of dealing with him, are you going to ask me to deal with him for you?”

  He leaned forward, planting his hands on the bed. “And what if I did, Tora? Are you planning on proving all of the rumors about you?”

  “I should,” I said. “Isn’t that what your mother would have wanted?”

  “Don’t you ever bring her up to me again, Tora.”

  “That’s what I thought,” I said. While Seth was still on the other side of the bed, I turned and grabbed my robe off the hook on the bathroom door. I turned back as I put my arms through it and tied the sash. “You don’t have a real strategy where Pagano’s concerned. You’re gonna let him bully you right out of your senate seat. Then maybe I will prove the rumors true. Maybe that is the only reason I hooked up with you.”

  Of all the things I said, that wasn’t the one I thought would make him snap and start talking. But he did.

  “I know enough to put George Pagano away for the rest of his life.” Again, his voice was so low I almost couldn’t hear it. But he stood only about a foot away from my recording cell phone so I hoped it was loud enough.

  “What do you know, Seth? You said something about that before.”

  “If it wasn’t for me, he’d be serving a life sentence on a federal drug charge. And that’s all I’m going to say.”

  I flapped my hand and shook my head, acting like he’d said nothing of consequence. “Big deal, Seth. Your mother was his defense lawyer. That was her and your job. You act like you blackmailed him.”

  Seth laughed.
“Let’s just say I know where Pagano’s bodies are buried.”

  “Not good enough. He didn’t act like he was scared of you. I told you that. You’ve misjudged him. You don’t have enough to persuade him to do anything. You’re sunk, Seth.”

  Seth picked at his thumbnail. As many times as he’d lost his temper, his calm demeanor now seemed so odd. I thought I would need him to fly into a rage and divulge his secrets. It didn’t happen that way. Instead, he laid out his and Miranda’s treachery like he was reading off the recipe for homemade lasagna.

  “The feds had him wrapped up on RICO charges. Heroin,” Seth said. I froze. Afraid if I moved or even breathed he would stop talking. “Enough distribution to trigger life as the mandatory minimum. My mother didn’t think it would work. Do you hear that? She told me my idea was too stupid to work. She was mad at me even when I suggested it.”

  “It worked though, didn’t it?” I wasn’t pretending anymore. Seth didn’t have any idea, but he was dealing with the real Tora now.

  “The witnesses were easy. They would have said whatever Pagano told them to say. My mother took care of that part.”

  “Of course she did,” I said.

  “They always follow the money,” Seth said. “That’s how they always catch these guys.”

  “And you came up with a plan to leave them a trail, didn’t you?” I said. I didn’t believe it. Seth wasn’t smart enough to carry any of this out.

  “She didn’t think he’d go for it,” Seth said. “She got so mad at me when I even suggested we ask him.”

  “Why wouldn’t Pagano go for it?” I said. “You said they had him wrapped up. He had to have been close to desperate.”

  Seth shook his head. He kept picking at that same thumbnail. He wouldn’t look at me. It was just as well. I didn’t want to see his eyes anymore. I just wanted to gouge them out. But he’d stopped talking. I pressed.