by Nicole Dykes
As I look around the stuffy party, that is less about my marriage and more about networking and socializing with potential voters. I can’t fathom bringing a child into this world.
I can’t help but to feel that this is just another stunt to show how happy we are. But unfortunately, I’ve been faced with the reality that our marriage may not be as happy as I thought.
I sip champagne and sit up straight in my seat. I wonder how my car is progressing.
I went in three days after picking out the color of my car and chose a black leather interior, with beautiful flowers engraved into them.
The dark purple paint was gorgeous and I cannot wait to see it all put together, but of course that thought makes me a little sad. There will be no reason to see Jackson when the car is finished.
Not that I should want to see him. But I feel a strange sense of comfort when I’m around him. Like if I slip up or make a mistake, then that’s still okay.
I still can’t believe I turned our last conversation into personal details of my life, I have to be careful around him and keep it a strictly professional relationship. No scandals.
“Charlotte, you should tell Karen about your time in Haiti.”
Karen who of course is seated at our table. She is covered in diamond jewelry and draped in a beautiful emerald gown. She talks as she grasps at her necklace, “Haiti, Charlotte. My goodness, what on earth were you doing in that place?”
I look to Nicholas, who made that suggestion and then over to the exasperated Karen, “It was a mission trip, right after I finished high school.”
My parents had offered to pay for a trip anywhere I wanted to go to celebrate my graduation. I’m sure they expected me to ask to go to Europe or on some sort of extravagant vacation, but I had heard about mission trips and decided to spend my summer helping people that truly needed the help. It’s still one of the most rewarding trips I’ve ever been on.
“Well, Ms. Charlotte, you are certainly full of surprises. Was it just awful?”
“No, it was wonderful. I spent a lot of time with sweet children.”
She still has a look of horror on her face, “My heavens, did they even speak English?”
My husband has already engaged in a new conversation with Karen’s husband, William, so there is no help there. “Some of them did, a few words here and there, but there were translators everywhere. It was a wonderful experience.”
She sips from her champagne flute, “Well, you’re a better woman than me there, Charlotte. I don’t like to get my hands dirty.”
Not surprising.
I suddenly feel like I’m suffocating here. I need a break.
I stand up, and in true gentleman fashion my husband and William stand also. My clutch is in my hand as I lean over, giving Nicholas a kiss on the cheek, “Excuse me for one moment, I need to go to the lady’s room.”
He nods as if to give me permission to leave the table and I move quickly through the crowd toward the restrooms, but I pass them and walk into the grand lobby.
I open the shiny, black clutch and remove my cell phone.
Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to check on the progress of my new car.
Before I talk myself out of it, I look through the numbers on my cell phone and find Jackson’s name. I dial.
He probably won’t answer anyway.
His rough, deep voice comes over the speaker, “Hello?”
“Hi, Jackson, this is…”
“Charlotte, I know, my phone told me.”
I smile. He a real sense of humor that I’m not used to, but thoroughly enjoy, “Um, I’m so sorry to bother you, but I was curious about the status of my car.”
I swear I never use words like “um” or “uh”, but I’m often left without words when speaking to Jackson.
I hear a slight laugh, “You’re calling about your car, at nine o’clock on a Friday night?”
Well, he thinks I’m pathetic for sure. I hear music in the background, he’s probably out at a club or something, flirting with available girls that are probably surrounding him. And I’m calling him about business, “I, uh, yes, I’m sorry, you’re right, totally inappropriate. I will call on Monday.”
“No wait, I’m just giving you a hard time Charlotte. I’m at the garage working as we speak. On a Friday night.”
I smile, relieved for some reason that he’s there, “You are working tonight?”
“Yeah, I actually prefer to work at night, it’s quiet. Are you okay?”
This is strange. I shouldn’t have called him.
“Yes, of course. I’m just excited about the car.”
“Well, I just looked at the seats today, it’s coming along nicely but that kind of detail will take a little bit.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me, “Right, of course. I have no doubt it will be beautiful.”
“Why don’t you come in Monday afternoon and we can talk about the engine. Probably need to get started under the hood soon.”
“That sounds great, but I really don’t know a thing about ‘under the hood’.”
He chuckles at me again, it’s good to hear him laugh. Not that he’s a stern person, he has a definite playfulness to him, but he holds back a lot. Something we have in common.
“I’ll walk you through it. I’ll see ya Monday then.”
“I’ll see you Monday, Jackson.”
Before I hang up, I feel a hand on my bare shoulder and turn to see my husband and he looks irritated, “Jackson?”
I quickly hang up my phone, “Yes. I wanted to check on my anniversary present.”
His frown turns up into a smile, “Oh, so you’re excited about it now?”
“Of course. It was a very thoughtful gift.”
“Well, I’m sure you are excited, but it will take some time. They don’t just throw cars together at Tricked.”
“I’ve noticed that.”
He takes my arm in his, “Well, come back to the table. William is telling a fascinating story about our last trip to D.C., I don’t want you to miss it.”
Of course. Why wouldn’t I want to miss that?
Monday afternoon, I pull open the heavy glass door to Tricked and walk inside. I immediately collide with a tall, brooding young man. He was carrying a box of metal parts that make a loud clanging noise when they hit the floor.
“Oh my, I’m so sorry about that.”
He leans down to collect the parts on the floor, “No problem. My fault.”
I see Jackson, swiftly walk in, “Charlotte, you okay?”
I nod, “Yes, I rudely bumped into this man. I’m so sorry.”
Jackson looks at the mess before us and then he laughs, “Jesus, Luke. Never carry a box before?”
The man doesn’t say a word and raises his middle finger casually in Jackson’s direction, like he does it all of the time. He fills the box and stands back up, “Sorry about that, miss.” After that he leaves.
“I’m so sorry about that, Jackson. I can be such a klutz.”
He laughs at that, “Don’t worry about Luke, that’s not what he’s pissy about.” He gestures for me to follow him, “Come on, let’s go to my office.”
I follow him until we are behind his closed office door. Where I slip my purse off of my shoulder, and place it on the floor and then take my usual seat. “Are you sure he’s not upset with me? Maybe I should go apologize again.”
Jackson walks around to his side of the desk and sits down, “No, don’t worry about it. He just dropped his girlfriend off back at college. I have a feeling he’s going to be that pleasant for quite a while. It wasn’t you, okay?”
I fold my hands in my lap, “Okay.”
He leans back in his chair, his arms folded above his head, the sleeves of his t-shirt straining against his flexed muscles.
Good Lord, when did I develop such a staring problem?
“So how was the rest of your weekend?”
“It was fine. I spent most of it at the country club.” A slight blush comes to m
y face, embarrassed by my answer, “That sounds really cliché.”
His arms drop and he leans forward, his office chair making a small creaking noise from the shift of weight, “How so?”
“Well, I um, I mean country club. I’m a young, blonde woman married to an older, successful man. I spend most of my time shopping and going to charity events at the club. I’m a walking cliché.”
And I’m humiliated. Why can’t I shut up around him?
Thankfully he takes pity on me, “Anyone can be a cliché in the right context.”
“I’m not so sure that is true.”
“Of course it is, take me for example in the right setting I’m a total stereotype.”
I’m intrigued, “There is nothing stereotypical about you, Jackson.”
“Think about it, I’m a “car guy”. I spend my life around fast cars and motorcycles and I am exactly what you would think of when you picture a “car guy”. I’m covered in tattoos, I’m foul-mouthed, and dirty.”
I swallow hard at the word, “dirty”. My mouth suddenly filled with saliva. “Maybe you are right.”
“I am, trust me. It’s all a matter of angles. Even your husband can be considered a cliché, in the right context of course.”
I get the feeling the admiration my husband seems to have for Jackson isn’t reciprocated.
“Nicholas?”
“Yeah, he’s the typical politician. You know he was here all of the time for three months and I never once saw him out of his suit and not one curse word came out of his mouth. A permanent cheesy smile plastered on his face.”
I shouldn’t laugh, I should defend my husband, but I don’t. Instead a full on giggle escapes my mouth, “That’s so true. He really is exactly what you would expect a politician to be. And that’s not just around strangers. It overflows into everyday life.”
There is that confident smile, “See, don’t let anyone make you feel simple or like a cliché. You aren’t.”
I compose myself from my small fit of laughter, “Thank you, I needed that. All of my friends are his friends and they are all almost twice my age. I don’t really have anyone to talk to.”
He nods his head knowingly, of course he already sensed that. I think he might know me better than I know myself. “Look Charlotte, if you need a friend, there isn’t any reason why I can’t be one to you.”
“You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met before.”
“Too honest?”
I shake my head, “Where I come from, it’s rude to be totally honest. You’re supposed to sugarcoat everything, but I find your honesty exhilarating.”
And apparently I can’t keep from being too honest around him.
Chapter 11
Jax
I’m tired of fucking pretending that I don’t care about Charlotte.
Relax, I’m not talking about a relationship or fucking her. I’m talking about actually, genuinely caring about this woman’s wellbeing. She seems so lost in her high class world, even though that’s all she’s ever known.
Maybe it’s time for her to be introduced into a different kind of lifestyle.
She likes my honesty. Which is good, because I know nothing else. “Well, straightforwardness is kind of my thing. I hate bullshit.”
“That’s good. I’m surrounded by it.” She has a curious, almost hopeful look on her beautiful face, “Do you really think we could be friends?”
I shrug, “I don’t see why not.” Dylan might. “I’m friends with a lot of my clients.”
“You are?”
“Of course.” That’s not a lie, Adam Shriller, the famous dirt bike racer is a client and one of my closest friends. And there are a few others that I’m friends with. Just not the rich pricks that act like they own me.
“Even the female clients?”
“Sure, as far as I know there isn’t any law that says men can’t be friends with women.”
“Even married women?”
I’m friends with Brooke and she’s married. Never once had a problem with crossing the line. This will be fine. “I’m not an animal, Charlotte, I respect marriage. I’m just talkin’ friendship.”
That appears to fluster her, “Of course. I know that.”
“Right well, I’m just saying that if you want a friend your age. That will try his best to listen to you, I think I could be that for you.”
“Well, I would never turn down such a sweet offer.”
Friends. I can do that.
Of course if anyone finds out that I’m friends with Charlotte they will all object. Apparently, all of my friends think it’s impossible for me to keep my dick in my pants.
“Well good, so now we should probably talk about the car.”
She nods her head, “Oh yes, let’s do that.”
For the next hour and a half, we go over the possible engine selections for her Mustang and settle on the perfect one for her.
She gathers her purse and coat and stands up, “Okay, so I’ll hear from you toward the end of the week?”
I stand from my desk chair, “Yeah, unless you need something before then.”
I don’t necessarily think we will be going out to dinner or hanging out, outside of the garage, but I want her to know the option is there. “Thank you Jackson. For everything.”
For the first time since we’ve met, she actually seems to be excited about something.
“Any time Charlotte.”
With that she leaves my office and is quickly replaced by Dylan.
Well fuck he looks worried again.
He saunters in and takes a seat, “She’s here again?”
“Yep, picked out an engine, went with the 302.”
“Nice. So we probably shouldn’t see her around for a bit right?”
I sit back down at my desk, across from my best friend. A man I would trust with my life if it came down to it, “She will probably be back in toward the end of the week to discuss the car.”
“Call her on the phone.”
Now he’s pissing me off, “Stay out of it.”
“No, I’m fucking in it. You two are getting too chummy and you know it. Do yourself a favor and fast track this car. Get her out of your life.”
“Well, that wouldn’t please the senator very much, now would it?”
“Neither would you fucking his wife, I would assume.”
I stand up from my desk, frustrated, possibly because I know he’s right, but like hell if I’m going to admit that, “Now Dylan, you know what happens when you assume.”
He stands too, not threatened in the slightest. Not that he needs to be, “Shut it down, Jackson.”
Fuck! He never calls me Jackson. I inch closer to his face, staring him down. My desk in between us, “There is nothing to shut down, she’s a client. And your balls are pretty fucking big lecturing me on inappropriateness. The guy who fucked his social worker.”
“That’s right, I fucked my social worker. And you told me every fucking chance you got that it was wrong and that I should shut it down.”
“Yeah, and thank you God you ignore every warning!” I hold my ground and add on, “Not that that’s what’s going on with Charlotte. She’s married and I would never cross that line.”
“Admit it, there is something there with her. Something you can’t stop if you are around her. I’ve been there, but she is married to a really fucking important guy, like it or not.”
“What’s going on?”
We both are noticeably jolted by the sound of Brooke’s voice. The scene before her, is probably scary. Two grown man practically screaming at each other, I’m sure it looks like we are about to go to blows.
We both back up, settling down and he turns toward his wife, “Nothing, everything’s fine. What are you doing here?”
She puts one hand on her hip, her belly protruding. She looks worried, “Apparently, I’m stopping a fight between you and your best friend.”
Dylan shakes his head and walks closer to her, “No, just a conversation.�
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She looks over in my direction, searching my face to see if he’s lying. Brooke is six months pregnant, she doesn’t need to be worrying about this insignificant shit. I nod my head, “No biggie, Brooke. Just a discussion that got a little heated.”
“I don’t believe either of you, but my feet are swollen and I have a doctor’s appointment. You two love each other, no fighting.” She slaps Dylan on the ass, “See you in the car.”
“I’ll be right there.”
She leaves and he turns back to me from the doorway, “Jax, you’re one of my oldest friends, you were my family when I had no one. And when you were lecturing me nonstop about not crossing a line with Brooke, I knew without a doubt that it was because you cared.”
“I did care, I knew how important the kids were to you and I didn’t want you to lose them.”
“Exactly and I know how important the kids, Brooke, me and this business are to you. And I don’t want to see you get hurt. She’s married. That’s supposed to be forever. Don’t be that fucking guy on the side, when there is no way she’s leaving her comfortable lifestyle.”
I take a seat. I’ll never be someone’s “side guy”.
“Look, you have way more important shit to worry about, I’m not going to do anything with Charlotte. We are just friends.”
“So you are friends then?”
“Acquaintances, what the fuck ever. It’s strictly platonic. I swear.”
He walks closer to where I’m sitting, “You’ve never lied to me before, so I have no reason to doubt you.”
My mouth goes dry. Why did he have to say that shit? “You have my word. You have from the first time you expressed your worry.”
“Alright. I’ll leave it alone. Nothing going on.”
“Nothing. Have fun at the doctor’s.”
He grins, “See ya later.”
He finally walks out of my office and I feel like shit for a reason I can’t really put my finger on.
I can’t betray his trust. If I do, it’ll kill him. It could jeopardize the shop’s reputation and ruin our business. Could destroy the family and make them hate me.
The family I’ve promised to protect until my last breath.
Chapter 12
Charlotte