by F. G. Adams
As if thinking about them conjures them up, my company cell phone vibrates in my front jean pocket. I motion at Gunner, pointing at the jacked-up red Dodge Ram sitting under the only lamppost in the lot, click the unlock button for him, then slide the bar across my phone to answer.
“Talk to me.”
“We were beginning to worry when you didn’t check in,” a deep male voice says.
“Fuck-wipes, you know how time passes when you’re having fun,” I sarcastically reply.
“All the same. What’s your twenty?” another voice inquires.
“‘Bout to pull out of Perry now.”
“Do you have the package?”
“What do you think, Ollie? It’s not like I’m going to leave here without it.”
“You’ve been preoccupied with shit lately, man. That’s all.”
“How’s the therapy going, Luc? Roxy?” I sidestep, because I’m not about to touch that subject with a ten foot pole.
“Still therapy, Keagan. A big pain in the ass, but I’m sticking with it ‘cause you asked so sweetly. And your baby is barking and slobbering all over me. Can’t you hear her?”
“Good girl, Roxy.”
A woof-woof comes through the line.
“He’s got his eyes on a gen-u-ine southern belle,” Ollie playfully mentions.
“Not gonna happen, dumbass. She’s just my therapist. Nothing more. I told you that once already.”
“It could be. She’s got the hots for you, Luc. If it was me, I’d wrap my arms around her and get lost in all that southern honey she’s so sweetly offering.”
“Shut the fuck up, Ols. You don’t know nothing.”
“I know you need to relax and I’m sure little Miss Sunshine would help you with that.”
“Ols …”
“We still moving forward as planned?” I interrupt before their joking escalates.
“Affirmative. Nothing’s changed,” Lukas responds automatically.
“Were you able to get a location on Big Daddy?”
“No. His watch dogs greeted me, but not him. You know he’s got eyes watching my every move. I’ve noticed a tag from the minute I stepped foot in these parts. I expect to meet him soon. Especially with the cargo I’m transporting across state.”
“Our clients are eager for a progress report, Keagan. What should I tell them?”
“Tell ‘em we are proceeding as planned and should have something more to report in a few days. We told them it would take time. Our plan won’t have results overnight, but we will get results. One way or the other. I promise.”
My attention zeroes in on Gunner. He’s on his phone animatedly gesturing around in the cab of the truck.
“Gotta go for now. I’ll check in soon.”
I hang up and ease the phone into my pocket as I walk towards the truck. I mentally prepare for the ride and grab the handle on the truck door to open it.
From the crack in the window I hear a woman screaming, “Stay the fuck there, Gunner. Don’t be a dumb fucker! We can’t afford for you to get caught,” blares the voice from his speaker phone.
“I can’t risk staying. Too much is riding …” Gunner’s voice fades away as I slam the truck door closed and crank the beast. He glances at me and shifts towards the passenger window. “Can’t talk now. Later.” Then he disconnects the call.
Today’s not just a routine day in the office for me. The restlessness inside follows the uncertainty of the high profile case I’ve been asked to handle. Cade and Crystal’s case is going to break my resolve to remain impartial when dealing with my clients, even if said clients are too young to protect themselves and need my intervention. From the moment I met the two teenagers, I knew something was off and I still can’t shake the feeling. Relying on my experience and knowledge will only go so far, and my gut instinct is screaming for me to reach out and help them.
The fraternal twins are inseparable. When one ventures away, the other instinctively shifts to cover the space between them. They are leery of movement and actions around them. It reminds me of the protective stance Fallyn had years ago for me and Sage.
At times, it’s an eerie sight, neither one acting their age but rather beyond it. Their eyes reflect an ocean of sadness. Both teenagers are breathtaking at fifteen. Crystal has long straight black hair and a thin face. Cade’s hair is shaggy with black curls engulfing his face, but both share identical blue eyes. They are popular among the “in crowd” and have excelled in academics up until about three months ago.
After their father’s death a few years back, their mother remarried the next year. A couple of the teachers have come to me with concerns about their withdrawal from friends and decline in grades. I’ve scheduled a meeting with her today—in fifteen minutes—and hopefully she will be able to enlighten me as to what is happening with her children.
I glance out the window and peace returns. The sun is shining brightly through the moss-covered trees and the parking lot is full of teenagers rushing around. I smile and hope that my effort is enough of a difference in the lives I come in contact with every day. I’ve been in Gainesville, Florida since I graduated from the university. My apprenticeship was at a high school here and it didn’t hurt that I fell in love with the college town atmosphere. So, when the time came for me to decide where I wanted to live, it was a no-brainer for me; I had nothing waiting for me in Lakeview.
When Fallyn left home, I counted the days until I could get away. After high school, I severed ties with Lakeview, the memories driving me far away to a new beginning. I talk to Grandma, my sisters, and Grayson weekly, or at least I try to. Some continue to call and check on me every now and then. Momma calls on occasion. She tries, and I appreciate her will. Momma is trapped in her own personal hell and no one can help her, so I don’t push her away.
Fallyn left me. One day, I had a precious little niece Harper who I adored and a sister who helped me survive living at home, and the next instant she was gone, vanished into thin air. I haven’t heard from her since. No one has, except for Grandma. She’s the only one Fallyn contacts. I’m not sure if even she knows where Fallyn and Harper are.
She was my best friend, and when I lost her, I lost a part of me too. Eventually, something inside me clicked back into place. I knew then that a fresh start without the hauntings of growing up as a Blackwood was in order.
My gaze lingers on a young teenage couple sitting under a gigantic live oak, the ancestral branches covered in moss reaching out to wrap them in their own cocoon haven as they talk and laugh. My mind wanders back to better days, a time when cheating on a test and remaining anonymous in my dad’s thoughts were my biggest concerns … when I was carefree and felt something.
Oh my gosh! I was totally dead meat. I couldn’t believe I was standing there in the hallway with Keagan and Mr. Manfurd, our Spanish teacher. He just caught us cheating and he was furious. Keagan was sitting in front of me cheating off Sara Beth in front of him, and he was just simply trying to be nice and help me out. But oh no, I was no good at cheating! I was no good at lying, or stealing, or anything that was bad. I was a churchgoing, God-fearing young lady, after all. Shoot, shoot, shoot! I really stepped in it this time.
I may have been the captain of the junior varsity cheerleading team, but I was no slouch. Appearances can be deceiving. In my case, they certainly were. Clutching my head in my hands in anguish, my mind raced, loudly spewing at my stupid decision to cheat. And with Keagan no doubt. My dad was going to kill me, literally. Mr. Manfurd was going to tell him, I just knew it. This would not turn out well for me. Nope, no way. My dad donated his time in the horticultural department and he’d find him and tell him as soon as he could. I'm so dead! Maybe I could salvage this situation somehow? Okay. Think, Jo. You can fix this.
Using the only weapon I possessed, I divert and tell the truth. I began to plead with Mr. Manfurd. "I'm so sorry, sir. It was totally not cool what we did. I take full responsibility for it. Keagan didn't even realize what I was doing,
so please don't punish him for my mistake."
Both Keagan and Mr. Manfurd’s jaws dropped as they both looked at me, bewildered, as if I sprouted hooves and a tail. In any other situation I would’ve laughed, but this was not the time.
I stood my ground because this had to work. It was my only hope.
"I really studied hard for this test. You know I always get decent grades, but that one question was just so hard, I just wasn't sure."
That's when I let the waterworks fall. It would certainly seal the deal.
Mr. Manfurd's face softened at what he was witnessing. I could sense my plan was working little by little. I should feel guilty. I did cheat. But at that moment, I couldn’t. There was no way I could afford for my dad to find out.
He leaned over and put his hand on my shoulder and sighed. Shaking his head, he said, "I'm very disappointed in you, Jocelyn. I would never expect something like this from you or Keagan.” Mr. Manfurd’s gaze locked onto Keagan. “However, I see how upset you are and I believe what you are saying, so I’ll let you both take the test again during your lunch period."
Keagan looked at me, speechless, as I wiped my tears from my face and said, "Thank you sir, so much. I promise it’ll never happen again."
Whew! That was a close one. Next, I needed to ask the tough question, to be certain I was off the hook from him.
"Mr. Manfurd, can we please keep this between us?" I appealed to him again with my eyes as tears continued to pool unashamed.
He looked down at me with understanding and replied, "I think we can do that, Jocelyn. But remember, if it ever happens again …"
The rest hung heavy in the air, and I heard it loud and clear. He didn’t have to worry about me. I would never take a chance like that again. It was just not worth the risk. Not worth my dad finding out and grounding me for life, or worse. I couldn’t think like that at the moment. Keagan and I received a pass that day. A get-out-of-jail-free card. All was right with the world!
I think about Keagan Fontneau often and wonder if he’s fighting the good fight. He joined the Army after graduating. I saw his brother a few times before I left the View, but he never mentioned how Keagan was doing. Sometimes I miss him, his friendship, his witty sense of humor. I received a few letters and a couple of phone calls after he first left. I didn’t respond. So eventually, the correspondence stopped. I wanted him to focus on his career and not the baggage that came with being my friend. But such is life. Things change, people change. We grow up and move on. When I take on a case like this one—one that is close to my heart—my memories start to surface.
When Grayson graduates, I will have to go back. I make a point to check on him and Addie. I was there when she was born and send her gifts on the holidays, but I fear she will never know who I am. Not like Grayson. I worry about them being at home in the unhealthy environment of the Blackwoods. At least Grandma’s still there to watch over them.
As for me, I’ve changed since I moved away. I’m still shy and don’t want to be in the limelight, but I’ve branched out and dated a time or two, had the occasional one-night stand when the itch needed scratching. But, nothing serious that gave me the tingling feeling I felt for Keagan. Nope, nada. I fear it will never happen again.
A guy I met in college came close but the sparks weren’t there. I almost married him too. I was going to settle, thinking that’s the most I deserve, until I caught him in bed with my roommate. Always second best. I decided then and there I wanted to be alone. I would dedicate my life to helping those who couldn’t help themselves. That’s how I ended up as a psychologist working for the department of health and rehabilitation. My trust fund set up by my grandparents supplements my meager income so I can do what I love the most: helping children.
A knock at my office door stops my reminiscing and Angela pokes her head in. “Miss Blackwood, your four o’clock appointment is here.”
“Thank you, Angela.”
Rising from my chair, I make my way out to the front office and I’m greeted by a beautiful couple in a heated argument. The man is clearly agitated and the woman is angrily whispering and pointing her finger at him. Interesting. He’s dressed in a business suit with his tie loosened at the neck and she is wearing an ivory blouse and pencil skirt with four-inch heels. Her Gucci bag is dangling from her arm like jewelry. They make a striking couple. One of the beautiful people I longed to be growing up. I clear my throat to catch their attention and notice the curiousness on the man’s face when he sees me.
“Hello, I’m Jocelyn Blackwood. Thank you so much for coming in today to meet with me.” I smile as I approach the couple.
“Hello,” they both say, shaking my hand in greeting.
The woman continues, “I’m Calista and this is my husband, Desmond Payne.”
The man holds my hand a little longer than what I’m comfortable with, so I start to yank it back only for him to release it. There’s a slight glimmer in his eyes that causes me to shiver.
I take a deep breathe to hide my uneasiness.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you both. Why don’t we go to my office where we can discuss what’s going on with Cade and Crystal?” I walk down the hall and gesture at my office doorway, beckoning them to enter and proceed around the large desk to my chair. “Please have a seat and let’s talk about the teens.” I sit down and fold my hands upon the desk in front of me. “I’ve asked you here today because of the decline in their grades and social activity. According to a few of their teachers, this pattern has been getting worse. Can you tell me if you noticed this change at home?”
“Darling, those kids are always on the go. They rarely show up for dinner on time and when they do, they are obnoxious and loud.” Calista glances at her finely-manicured nails and smirks. “I tend to believe it’s hormonal. They are teenagers, you know.”
“I’m aware of their age, but the behavior we are observing at school doesn’t coincide with your observations.”
I’m interrupted by a concerned acting Desmond. “Do you think drugs are involved?”
“I really don’t believe drugs are an issue. Cade and Crystal are shying away from their friends and teachers. Typically peer pressure, a desire to escape reality, or emotional struggles are signs of teen drug abuse. Yes, they are exhibiting bad grades, anti-social skills, and loss of interest, which are stereotypical signs. But neither show signs of fatigue, lack of personal hygiene, bloodshot eyes, or weight loss. I’m extremely concerned. The pattern seems closer to emotional turmoil, which is why I asked if anything had changed at home.”
Both look at each other with dumbfounded facial expressions and I fear they are clueless as to what is happening to their children. They seem caught up in their everyday life and are oblivious to what’s happening in front of them, but something is nagging at me. Something doesn’t add up.
“You mentioned them being late for dinner, right? Do they miss the entire meal or only the beginning? Are they sleeping later in the morning? Hanging out with friends you haven’t met?”
“No. They are either at home, school, or the library studying. I drop them off and pick them up. Sometimes, they get a ride home, but normally I’m there to take them wherever they need to go,” Calista puffs.
“Hmm, how long are they studying at the library?”
“Almost every day, several hours at a time. If they aren’t at school or asleep, they are at the library studying.”
“Don’t you think it’s rather odd they are studying that much, yet their grades are suffering?”
“I … I haven’t even thought about it.”
“We need to find out what they are doing during their study time. I can talk to them with you if you want, or I can just wait to hear from you. Either way, it’s important that we figure out what is going on with them so we can remedy the problem.”
“I don’t believe that’s necessary. We can handle this within our family. Outside interference at this point isn’t something needed,” Desmond quickly answers.
> I beg to differ, but nod my head in acceptance. For now.
“Very well. We can schedule another time to meet in … let’s say two weeks? We should have an idea by then if you talking to them has made an impact. Until then, I’ll keep posts on their activities from their teachers and if something happens I feel needs your assistance, then I’ll call.”
“Here’s my business card,” says Desmond, offering it. “Both office and cell number are listed. You will probably have a better chance getting through to me because I have an assistant answering most of the time. Calista is normally busy with her tennis and clubs.”
Strange. Didn’t she just mention taking them to and fro when needed?
“Alright then.” I take the card from his outstretched fingers and am careful not to touch him. This guy gives me the willies.
We all stand and Desmond turns to leave. I catch a brief glimpse of distress painting Calista’s face, as if she has something she needs to get off her chest. When Desmond twists back to us, her mask of indifference is back up. The moment is gone and I’m left with more questions. Does this woman know what’s going on with her children? Is she frightened of something? Or maybe someone?
In the rush of leaving my office, Calista is in a tizzy about leaving her purse behind on the table.
“I’ll get it, Mrs. Payne. Be right back.”
As I walk into my office, I see her Gucci bag laying on the floor by the chair and bend over to retrieve it. I turn around into a wall of hard stone.
“What the …?”
“My apologies, Miss Blackwood. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He enunciates the “Miss” and my belly churns hard. Desmond Payne is staring me down with a smirk plastered across his jerk face. No, he didn’t. Who does he think he is? Ugh!