by Nikki Chase
Then I remind myself of the wound on the other side of his torso. I’ve already caused Jacob enough trouble. People are always going to figure out who I really am, so trouble is always going to follow me. Jacob doesn't have to deal with that.
I’m not going to lie and say that Jacob's just wasting his feelings on me. When he said those three little words, I felt it right in my heart, a mixture of so many different emotions I couldn't even begin to sort them out.
Damn it. I’ve caught feelings, haven't I?
Jacob
“Dude, you really need to start telling me what you're up to. I’ve been running around doing all this stuff for you. I’ll admit it's more exciting than my usual work. But if I’m not getting any money out of it, you need to pay me with stories.” The little image of Matt on the video call window is grumbling, but I can hear him typing and clicking around, already working on the task I just gave him.
“I would if I had the time, but I don't. Right now is the time to be doing things. I’ll tell you everything as soon as I can,” I say. “Thanks a lot, man. You're like the brother I never had.”
“I hate you. But your case is like ten times more interesting than my other stuff, so it's useful for procrastination purposes.”
“As long as you keep working on it.” I take another big gulp of coffee. I’ll need the extra fuel if I’m going to finish this by tomorrow.
“Okay, some good news. I can't find anything with the name Jessica Lake on it that links her to the Pussy Cat. It seems she used her stage name exclusively. That was smart of her,” Matt says.
Pride spreads through my chest. That's my girl. She's a genius. I ask, “Really? No personnel file or something like that?”
“No.”
“Payroll?”
Matt shoots me a look. Obviously, I’ve just said something stupid, although I have no idea what.
“Strippers don't get paid by the club, Jacob,” he says, as if that's just common sense. “They pay the club a fee to perform there and make money from tips. In cash.”
“Oh.” I guess that makes sense. Having been a stripper obviously carries a lot of stigma and, like Jessica, the average stripper probably doesn't want that following her around her whole life.
“Your girlfriend used to be a stripper and you don't know this? What do you even talk about?”
“Like you said, we have exciting lives.”
“So you’re admitting she's a girlfriend then?” Matt grins into the camera with victory.
“Sure.” I shrug.
After everything I’ve gone through with Jessica, calling her a girlfriend doesn't seem like a big deal.
If anything, the word ‘girlfriend’ doesn't seem adequate to convey the way I feel about her. It feels juvenile. High school. What I feel for Jessica is deeper, stronger, more grown-up.
“Jacob has a girlfriend,” Matt sings. “I honestly think this is a rare occasion worth celebrating. And to think it's the stripper you were obsessed with for years. Seriously, what's the story here?”
“I told you I don't have time for that right now.” I blink a few times. My eyes are getting tired from staring at the laptop screen, but I need to keep going.
I know Jessica would much rather stay here than leave.
Sure, there’s nothing anchoring her to Ashbourne anymore now that Bertha is safe. I know that must've been the only wrench in her escape plan, before her meeting with Caine.
Jessica has worked so hard to get her dream job and surround herself with new friends. I just know that wherever the next town is, she won't be as motivated to make it her home. She'd be too afraid of having it all snatched away again.
It pisses me off that she's resigned to the life of a fugitive, when she has done nothing wrong. The police have failed her big time.
There’s nothing I want more than to walk over to Jessica’s house, hold her tight, and tell her she doesn’t have to worry anymore. But I know I can do more for her from here.
I could bring my laptop next door and work there, but I have all my stuff here so I’ll get everything done quicker. We don’t have much time after all.
Besides, I don’t want to alarm her with the knowledge that Matt, who’s a stranger to her, knows things about her that she wants hidden from everyone.
“The news articles about the stripper who died don't mention Jessica's name either,” Matt says, pulling me away from my thoughts. “There are two with her pictures, though. She's just in the background, but I can tell it's her. She can probably argue that it's just someone who looks like her, but I can get rid of the pictures if you want.”
“Yeah, that would be best.”
“Okay, just give me some time.”
“One thing I’m worried about is if someone were to call the Pussy Cat and ask about her. Even without a real name, they can probably ID her just by her pictures, or even just a physical description of her.”
“Yeah, that's always possible. The hardest details to tamper with are the ones that don't depend on technology. It's just like how talking face to face is safer than a phone conversation. Or a video call like the one we’re having,” Matt says. Sensing my alarm, he adds, “Just for the record, I’m sure nobody's listening to this conversation. I'm overly careful about my privacy. You would be too if you knew what people could do with your information.”
“Okay, enough with the PSA on Internet security. Anything we can do about people who’d call the Pussy Cat?”
“It's unlikely that someone would go to that extent. Sometimes you just have to weigh the benefit against the cost.”
“But there is something we can do?” I don't care how much it would cost. I need to present a solid case to Jessica so she’d stay. I know that's what she really wants and I’ll be damned if I don't try my best to make it happen.
“You’ve talked to the police like I told you to?”
“Yeah. I did that as soon as we hung up this morning.”
“They agreed to withhold the name of the victim and her personal details?”
“Yeah, and the press hadn't been there to ask questions. I guess they work more slowly in a small town like this.”
“Good. Honestly, that's like eighty percent of your work done. The crazy woman's words are the only thing that would give people the slightest idea about Jessica's past. I understand her paranoia, considering she had the threat of a convicted murderer hanging over her for so long. I'm sure that fear has helped her survive in the past. But if that guy is no longer a threat, then she doesn't have to live in constant fear anymore.”
“I know what you're saying, but I need to make sure I’ve covered all the bases.”
“And I’m just saying you can drive yourself crazy trying to follow every little trail. There's no end to it.”
“Just this one, and then I’m done.”
Matt inhales deeply, then lets out a big sigh. He says, “You were always a stubborn motherfucker.”
“That's me.” I smile. “So we’re going to do this or what?”
“Okay, fine. I can make it so whenever there's a call from Ashbourne to the Pussy Cat, you get a notification. The town is far enough from the club that you can assume any call would have something to do with Jessica. Like if the principal were to confirm the details of her employment, for example.”
I nod my head as I follow Matt’s explanation.
“When you get a notification about a call, you can do two things. One, if you're quick enough, you can pick up the call and pretend you're a staff member at the club. Otherwise, you can listen in on the conversation and decide what to do if there's a leak.”
“Good. Can you do this by tomorrow?”
“It's going to take me all night, but it can be done. I have to warn you, though, this is not a hundred percent legal.”
“Thanks, man. You're the best. I owe you one. Tell me what I can do to make your job easier.”
As Matt lists the simpler tasks for me to do, I think about what other things Jessica may be worried a
bout.
She doesn't need to worry about the local cops or journalists, and nobody's going to believe Christine once they know what went down in Bertha's house.
Aside from me, the only people who know about Jessica's past are Bertha and Tony.
I just hope that Bertha hasn't told many other people, but if those people have kept quiet so far, there's no reason to worry about them blabbing in the future. It's probably still a good idea to talk to Bertha to find out who else knows, though. And Tony, too.
Nobody at the Pussy Club knows Jessica's real name, and I’ll be able to redirect any local phone calls.
I know Caine told Jessica that Stan won't be looking for her anymore, but I’ve also got my eyes on the guy just in case. I’ll know the second Stan steps out of prison.
I have all the bases covered. I just hope Jessica can see that.
It doesn't matter even if she decides to bail, though. I don't have any attachments to this town. I don't care if I have to follow her to another random small town. They're all the same to me. She's the one who will take it hard.
Either way, Jessica’s not going to shake me off this time. She's stuck with me, whether she likes it or not.
Jessica
“Where do you think you’re going?” Jacob leans into the open window, resting his strong forearm on top of my car. He squints from the morning sunlight that’s getting in his eyes.
“To the vet. She told me to pick Max up today,” I say. I’m kind of in a rush because I miss Max so much, but I’m glad I get the chance to see Jacob. I may not see him again and I want to properly say goodbye this time.
“How’s the little guy doing?”
“The vet says he’ll recover. I’ll have to give him some medication and keep an eye on him, but he’ll be fine.”
“Why do you have so many boxes in there?” Jacob frowns, his expression a blend of confusion and anger.
“Err… Because I’m moving? We talked about this yesterday, remember?”
“Yeah. And I told you you’re not moving.” Jacob walks around the car, yanks the passenger door open, and takes a seat beside me.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m coming with you,” he says confidently, as if that’s his own decision to make.
Oh, well. I guess there’s enough room for one more. It’s not like I have enough upper body strength to push him out. Besides, I do want to spend some time with Jacob, as much time as I have left in Ashbourne—which is to say, not a lot.
As I pull out of my driveway, I think about how much I missed him last night. Where was he?
I kept waiting for him to come over, but he never did.
I did consider me going to his place instead, but I had a lot of packing to do. He knew this, and yet this was the one night he chose not to stay over.
I know there was no threat from Christine anymore and that was the whole point of him staying at my place, but still. It was my last night and he ditched me. That hurt.
In the two hours I had set aside for sleeping, I tossed and turned angrily in my bed, which, by the way, still smelled a little like him from the previous night. I wanted him there with me. I wanted to chat with him, argue with him, have him between my legs—all for the last time.
I still hate him a little for not even showing up after his big speech that morning, but I’m exhausted and sleep-deprived. I don’t have any energy left for anger.
Besides, my mood has significantly improved since I heard the good news from the vet on the phone. I don’t even know when I’m going to see Jacob again, so I decide to make nice.
“You look horrible,” I say.
“Thanks. So do you.” He’s right, of course. We both look like hell, with bloodshot eyes, colossal eye bags, and messy hair. We look haggard as hobos this morning.
“I stayed up all night packing. What’s your excuse?” I glance at him as I drive. This should be good.
“I stayed up all night fixing things for you so you can stay here.”
“Oh. What did you do exactly?”
I don’t know why his answer catches me off guard. He did say yesterday that he was going to do something to keep me here. I didn’t take him seriously, though.
I mean, sure, he could hack into my phone and find out some things about Stan through his mysterious methods, but I don’t see how he could stop tongues from wagging.
“Okay, listen carefully, okay? I’m going to impress you,” he says with a big, proud grin on his face.
For the rest of the ride to the animal clinic, he tells me all about how he has spoken with the cops, checked for any public information that could link me to the Pussy Cat, and tinkered with the phone lines to divert local calls to the club.
He sounds so excited and I can tell he’s worked really hard on this. I start to feel bad for getting angry last night and thinking he just didn’t want to see me.
I didn’t believe what he said yesterday because it sounded too good to be true. I didn’t want to get my hopes up.
Maybe I’ve just been disappointed too many times in my life, but I find it hard to rely on someone other than myself.
“So there’s no reason for you to leave anymore,” he says as I park my car in front of the animal clinic. “You can stay here if that’s what you want. If you still want to leave, we can do that too.”
“We?”
“Yeah. I told you I’m coming with you wherever you’re going. You’re not getting away from me. I’ll keep finding empty houses to rent in your neighborhood until you understand that,” he says with a big, stubborn, victorious grin.
I stay quiet as I digest all the information Jacob has just shared with me. There’s a lot to take in.
I turn off the engine. When I turn to look at Jacob, I can’t even see him clearly because my eyes have filled with water. When I speak, my voice is shaky. “You did all those things...for me?”
“Of course it was all for you, baby.” Jacob interlaces our fingers like he did yesterday and kisses the back of my hand. “Like I told you before, I love you.” He smiles as he wipes away my tears with his free hand. There’s no more anger in his eyes, no more arrogance. There’s only love and tenderness. He asks, “Do you believe me now?”
I nod as something warm spreads throughout my chest, filling me up inside until I feel like I’m about to explode. Tears stream down my cheeks. I nod. “Yes, I believe you.” I sniffle. “And I think… I think I love you too.”
Jacob pulls me into his embrace, and I let the floodgates open. I cry into his chest, all my emotions expanding and bursting out of me in the form of tears. Relief, gratitude, happiness. Love.
I didn’t see this coming this morning, when I thought my life was going in a completely different direction, but I’ve found love. I found it in the parking lot outside my vet’s office, of all places.
“Wow, I had no idea there was such a nice place here,” Jacob says as we ride past the woods and into the clearing, where we see the lake for the first time.
“Yeah. I’m glad most people have no appreciation for local gems either,” I shout over the loud engine of Jacob’s Harley Davidson.
“What?”
“Never mind.” I laugh to myself. I know Jacob already changed the exhaust for me, and I appreciate that, but it’s still too loud for us to have a conversation while riding his Harley Davidson.
Still, I’ve learned to love it, because Jacob loves it.
We stop at the end of the dirt path and I quickly get off the bike, even before Jacob has a chance to turn off the engine.
“Poor thing.” I remove my backpack dog carrier and take a look at Max. “Are you okay, Max?”
It doesn’t look very comfortable for him to sit there with just his head poking out, but he looks happy and excited. His tail wagging is getting pretty violent.
I laugh as I unzip the strange backpack and let him out. We got a lot of strange looks on our way here, but who cares? Max doesn’t get a lot of opportunity to run around in
such a big, wide, open space.
There’s grass on which he can roll around, little animals he can bully, and a large body of water he can explore. What more could a dog want?
Honestly, I’m just as happy. I can ask myself the same question. What more could a girl want?
Sure, we didn’t get a reservation at Le Grande because people have made their dinner plans weeks before Valentine’s Day, but we’ve been there anyway, so it’s not like we’re missing out on anything.
The climate here in Ashbourne is mild year-round, so it feels like a waste to not take advantage of that.
Besides, we can’t take Max to Le Grande. He’d spend the whole meal hiding under the table, getting his tail stepped on by waiters, who are too busy to look where they’re going.
No, we don’t need a fancy dinner. Honestly, I’d be content to just stay home and watch some sitcom rerun. Just Jacob, me, and Max, all piled on top of one another on the couch.
That’s all we’ve been doing since I decided to stay in Ashbourne last week, just cuddling and doing nothing. Oh, and having sex the rest of the time. Working and even eating have become such chores.
Because it’s the first Valentine’s Day Jacob and I celebrate together, I feel like we should put in some effort and get out of the house for once. Doing nothing would set a bad precedent, which is bad, because I plan to spend many, many Valentine’s Days with Jacob.
I bend down to pick a stick from the ground and throw it as far away as I can. Max, the little engine that could, runs after it, his little tail wagging behind him. I can’t believe I almost lost him only days ago.
“A little help?” Jacob takes off his leather jacket, revealing a cotton shirt underneath that lets me see the outline of his hard body and the tattoos on his arms. I don't think I could ever grow tired of this view.
He opens the big black box on the back of his bike and pulls out two blankets, one checkered and one solid blue. He asks, “Where do you want to sit?”
“Over there.” I point at a spot by the water as I walk back toward the bike. I grab a couple of soda cans from the hard-sided box, the metal coated with water condensation.