by Maya Rossi
As he spoke Sarah seemed to go whiter and whiter. She struggled against Jack’s hold screaming her threats and demands. Brayden stared her over from head to toe. She looked a harridan in an expensive suit.
Sarah Jacobs was like a chameleon, easily changing her appearance to suit her purpose. At home with Victor who Brayden bet had no idea of his wife’s current whereabouts, she was a typical stay at home mom to a simple man. With Brayden she became the real Sarah, cold and manipulative. With his father, she became submissive and retiring.
“Seriously, does Hannah know?”
“Keep her name out of your tainted mouth,” she spat, pulling out of Jack’s arms to smoothen her suit jacket. Just like that she looked like a successful, simple Sarah Jacobs, mother to a boxing legend.
“My family is none of your business, face your failed boxing career,” she snapped and walked out.
“Starting today I’ll stop my allowances to you,” Brayden announced to her retreating back. “I think it would do our nonexistent relationship much good.”
Sarah stopped and turned. Her face twisted into the same sneering, old rage she used to get him in line. Brayden’s breath came faster despite himself. He had to force himself to stand still as she stalked over. Jack took a step forward but Brayden put out a restraining hand.
“You forget yourself, Brayden. I’m your mother.”
“No, you’ve never been my mother. You brought me into this world but you’re not my mother.”
She bared her teeth in a predatory smile. “There’s a difference? Benjamin wouldn’t do this.”
Benjamin Marshall. Brayden fought back sudden tears. “How many times have I heard that? Benjamin wouldn’t lose, Benjamin wouldn’t would win before this round just because you have placed a bet on that. You made a fortune out of manipulating my guilt over Benjamin and you call yourself my mother?”
“You killed him, remember?”
She pressed a hand against his chest, leaning up to look into his eyes. “You like killing things. The first time you were six.”
“I was a child,” Brayden choked out the words.
“We’re saying the same thing. You were a child, but you were already what you are, it’s in your blood.”
“It was a rat, I was a child. You can’t blame me for that too,” he cried.
“You had blood all over you, did the other kids? Why didn’t you clean up?”
“I-I it was just a little blood,” he stammered.
“It was on your shoes, your clothes and your face, it wasn’t a little, Brayden. I had to clean you up, remember? As your mother?”
“It was a silly game, I refused to join them--”
“But you later did.”
“I didn’t. Jake tried to force me--”
“It wasn’t force. Think back, you just love destroying things, like you nearly destroyed the foundation.”
“He chased me around and it-it was fun, we were playing. And he got the blood on me.”
“But you enjoyed it.”
“I told him not to that you would make me sorry and--”
“Yet you did it, anyway.”
“They said I was a loser when I didn’t join them.”
She cupped his cheek. “You were weak, you’ve always been weak. You couldn’t say no.”
“Yes,” he whispered. “I couldn’t say no, they were having fun, I wanted to join them.”
“And you got blood on your hands. You know what that means?”
Brayden bowed his head. “Yes, mother. I--”
“Step the hell away from him.” Jack grabbed Sarah by the hand and dragged her flailing and kicking to the door.
“I will sue the suit out of you, if you don’t let go of me this — you’ve torn my skirt. What sort of Neanderthal are you?”
As his mother’s voice faded, Brayden blinked, coming back to the present. He found the nearest restroom and gagged, retching violently only to come up empty. Jack opened the door and closed it behind him. He watched Brayden in concern as he washed his face and hands.
“That’s your mother?”
“I don’t want to discuss her.”
“She will try again.”
Brayden smiled crookedly at the mirror. “Of course.”
“She’ll come stronger,” Jack said bluntly, “you almost gave in today, how will you defend yourself tomorrow?”
Chapter Twenty-one
“Hey! Anybody home?”
Ava followed the shouts to the kitchen where Robin struggled to douse a small fire while the kids howled. Jami wasn’t left out in the fun, barking and helping to make a general mess of things. Hands propped on her hips, Robin turned on the children. “You’re supposed to be helping.”
“Leave the cooking to me or dad next time, eh?” Tom easily sidestepped the kitchen towel Robin threw at him. He handed over Max with a smile. “He didn’t cry or anything.”
“Yeah,” Ava laughed, tucking Max into notch where her head and shoulder met. “Did he try to grab your nose?”
“And my ears,” Tom confirmed.
“At least you don’t wear earrings.”
“Wait, are you dissing my favorite boy?” Robin asked, reaching up to take Max. She led the way to the back porch where they could talk. “So how was New York?”
Ava shrugged. She felt grimy from the trip. The interviews for her next articles had gone well, and that was most important. “The same. Well not exactly, I got a statement from a married gay man, who’s also a former boxer.”
“Really? They’re gay men in boxing?” Robin asked, surprised.
“Yes, many. But they had to hide it.”
“Imagine being gay in such a brutal sport,” Robin pulled Max’s shirt from his mouth and wrapped his hand around her forefinger.
“If Ryan and Brayden had to hide their friendship, even going as far as putting up a pretend fight like at that award thing--”
“That was fake?” Robin sounded horrified.
Ava nodded, taking out some of her interview notes from her bag. “Deborah confirmed it, said it was Isaac’s idea.”
“Damn.” Robin rocked Max for a while, lost in thought. “These articles you want to write--”
“About the brutality in the game and those left behind.”
“Are you sure it won’t cause much trouble for you?”
Ava sighed, rubbing her eyes with a forefinger. “Not so much, but I think the one talking about the relationships in boxing and how it affects the marketing of the sport will definitely get me noticed.”
“Remember,” Robin caught her gaze, expression serious. “Remember, you have Max to worry about now. It’s not just you.”
Thinking over some information she uncovered talking to former spouses and siblings of the recently deceased boxers, Ava nodded. “It hurts me to admit it but you’re right. See this,” she edged her chair closer to Robin to point out something in her note, “sixteen boxers have died in the ring in the past thirty months--”
“Thirty? Isn’t that a lot?”
Ava nodded. “A lot. In fact, the stat is enough to worry any of the mothers who sons are in one camp or the other.”
“But why isn’t this public knowledge?”
She shrugged. “PR? I have no idea, but it worries me no one has noticed. They just write it off as one pain of the sport. No pain no gain and all that.”
“But it’s a sport. It should be a sport where there’s a loser and a winner and nothing more,” Robin pointed out.
“Exactly, and the audience are entertained. The promoters make money and everyone goes home. No one gains if these boxers die.”
“What are you going to do?” Robin asked.
“Write the hell out of it, try to capture the lives of the dead and how it affects those left behind,” Ava shrugged, “who knows? Maybe it would bring awareness and reduce the aggressiveness in the sport?”
Round seven
Chapter Twenty-two
“I don’t think your Dad wants to be found
,” Ava said to Max who seemed to be having a good time in the backseat.
They had been driving round and round for hours now. Hannah warned her Newgate county in Nashville, Tennessee was literally in the middle of nowhere but Ava couldn’t have imagined she meant it literally.
“Maybe I should have left you with Aunt Robin, huh? What do you think?” Ava asked, keeping on the one-sided conversation. “But Hannah was just about to bang the door in my face until she saw you. Did you like Hannah?”
“Max, your father better have a better reason hiding out here than the view, this isn’t funny.”
Max shoved his toy in his mouth and turned to watch the scenery. Well, as much of it he could see from his baby car seat. When she got to the Jacobs front door asking about Brayden, Hannah had gone ballistic.
“You’ve got some nerve coming here after everything you did to my brother.” Her eyes sparked with blue flames while her body vibrated with righteous fury.
Thankful Brayden still had Hannah’s loyalty, Ava turned so Hannah could see Max. The bubbly teenager took one look at Max and burst into tears. Holding out both arms for Max who eagerly rushed to her arms, Hannah sniffed. “I might tell you where he is if you tell me why you’re looking for him.”
Ava smiled at Max. “Max wanted to meet his father.”
Max’s response was to make an uncoordinated grab for her nose.
Tears filled Hannah’s blue eyes. Overcome with emotion, she pressed her forehead against Max’s. “J-just, he needs all the love, if you will hurt him. Don’t go. He and Max can meet later down the line.”
“I want to give them the choice now,” Ava shrugged, “then we’ll see how it goes.”
Hannah bit her lip, fresh tears giving her eyes a beautiful sheen. “You know he’ll likely refuse?”
“Yes, I do. Very well.”
“Okay, I still got the address he sent my last allowance from,” Hannah muttered, looking through her phone. Ava offered to take Max, but she refused.
“He still sends you money?”
Hannah rolled her eyes. “That’s Brayden’s speak for I love you. Since he cut off mother, I find myself in rarefied company.”
It reminded her of something Brayden said about receiving punishment for his slights from Sarah as a boy. No wonder he believed affection could be bought and paid for. Instinctively, Ava lifted her eyes to check on Max in the backseat. If she had anything to do with it, and she did. Max would never lack for love and warmth.
A small, obscure sign for a restaurant appeared in the distance and Ava perked up. “Max, check out our breakthrough.”
Ten minutes later, she propped Max on her hips and approached the diner, not restaurant like she thought. Calling it a diner was doing a great disservice to diners everywhere. She shoved open the doors and walked over to the counter where a grandmotherly type complete with hair rollers began cooing the second she laid her eyes on Max.
“What a beautiful child. Rhonda come see the most beautiful boy in the world,” she exclaimed, walking around the counter to smile at Max.
Ava laughed and held him up for his new admirers. Rhonda ran over, almost stumbling in her overly long skirts. “What are you doing bringing this boy to such a lowly place?”
“We’re looking for someone--”
“Rhonda, does he look familiar to you?” the first woman asked with a frown.
“Yes, he looks like--” Rhonda broke off and straightened. “You said you came searching for someone?”
“Yesss,” Ava drew the word out, looking from one woman to the other, trying to understand the reason for their sudden coldness. “Brayden Marshall?”
Within a twinkling of an eye, they returned to their spots behind the counter. Their demeanor considerably cooler, Rhonda said, “I’m sorry, we can’t help you.”
She got the same reaction at the local laundromat, the small town hall, and a bed and breakfast. Desperate and threatening to keel over from exhaustion, Ava went to the police station as a last resort.
Again calling it a police station was a stretch. They were just three people in the small office. A woman and two men. One man ambled over. With his blond hair and a hefty body slightly gone to fat, he was handsome in a burly way.
“How can we help you, ma’am?”
“I’m looking for Brayden Marshall.”
The man stilled. He blinked at her like she asked him to strip and flash his penis. Ava kept on a pleasant smile by the skin of her teeth. Max fussed, twisting this way and that, on the verge of tears.
“Hank, did she say Brayden Marshall?” the woman asked, coming over to stand by Hank’s side. She took one look at Max and made an uhhh sound. “Let me get the Sheriff.”
“He’s retired now,” Hank offered when he recovered his ability to speak. “But he has been the Sheriff like forever so..”
“If you call him Sheriff, what do you call the current Sheriff?”
He grinned, his dimples cutting deep grooves in his cheek. “Hank or boy.”
Ava laughed. “Boy?”
Disgruntled, Hank shook his head. “You notice the ratio of young to old in these parts? They all knew me while I was in diapers, so...” He looked beyond her to the small parking lot. “Sheriff is usually down at the watering hole these days so he should be here… there he is.”
“Ava Miller,” a voice boomed, startling her.
Patting a fusing Max absently, Ava turned to face the Sheriff. With the force of a linebacker, he pushed forward to a stop before her, hands propped on his hips.
“I will have to ask you to leave,” he huffed.
Wondering why they called the Sheriff to deal with her, Ava turned Max to face the good Sheriff. The man blanched, shaking his bald head. “Jesus. Brayden won’t like this.” He sighed. “Come on, I will take you across the bridge to Bray.”
“I will follow you in my car,” she offered.
He took one look at her small car. “We’ll go in my car.”
Ava had so many questions she would have asked but the Sheriff’s bunched shoulders deterred her. The remoteness of the place aside, the scenery was paradise. Max fussed and cried all the way. The Sheriff inclined his head towards her.
“Do you want to breastfeed him, I can pull over somewhere.”
“No, no, I have a bottle. I think he’s just cranky.”
When they got to the bridge, he said, “You’ve chosen a wrong time of the year to visit. We get flash floods at this--”
“Oh, I won’t be spending more than a day here. I’ll just pop in to see Brayden and be on my way.”
The older man’s lips thinned in disapproval. “With the boy?”
“With Max, yes.” She looked out the window at the river below. “How far away is the nearest town?”
“Thirty miles.”
Soon, the terrain changed, and the car seemed to cling to the road as they inched upwards. Ava almost wept with relief when they suddenly pulled into a stone-walled mansion set atop a hill. The Sheriff brought the car to a stop. Ava glanced at him.
“Thank you?”
The man said nothing, just watched as she gathered her things, struggling to keep a hold on them with Max on her shoulder.
“Ava Miller?”
She turned, shifting Max to her left. “Yeah?”
“Good luck.”
A shed on the northward part of the house opened and a familiar face walked out. Jack. Dressed in work pants and boots, he looked different from the suited security guard Ava remembered.
“Hey, old man,” he called, striding past her to the car.
Ava bit her lip. Her decision to show up unannounced might not have been the best. Jack never liked her. Whenever she visited Brayden those days, he lurked, suspicious and wary of her motives. And how he had been proved right.
“Hello, Jack.”
His eyes swung to her, the Sheriff said something, and he nodded. Later, they watched the car drive off. “It’s a good thing he’s no longer in the spotlight, spending the yea
r here has dulled my reflexes,” Jack said absently. His eyes caught her, unfriendly and smoldering in anger. “What are you doing here? You’ve got some nerve lady. I wish I convinced Brayden to sue the pants out of your ass, you wouldn’t have dared come here.”