Lennon's Jinx (Lennon's Girls #1)

by Chris Myers

  Yeah! That’s her old agent. He’d take her back in a heartbeat. She hasn’t aged, and she’s talented. “You should do that.” It will give her a reason to move back to LA, close to Jonathan, and I won’t have to cover any more naked asses in her bed ever again.

  “Why hasn’t Currie gone to school?” Mom asks.

  “She’s sick. Don’t worry. I’m taking her to the doctor.”

  “I can take her. Really, I don’t mind.”

  Occasionally, she makes a gesture like this for appearances. “It’s okay. I’ve got it.”

  “If you insist.” Mom goes back to hacking up salad. That’s her idea of breakfast, especially if Jonathan has a regular.

  Holding the measured spoon of children’s Tylenol, I wake Currie. “Do you want to come back home after the doctor’s. You can go with me to the warehouse in the afternoon.”

  She sits up in bed, holding her head. After a moment, she swallows the syrup. “Okay. Will you take my violin and books to the warehouse?”

  Currie doesn’t like me to be far if she’s not feeling well. It’s good to have someone need me. “No problem. Are you hungry?”

  “Not really.”

  “Get dressed, and we’ll get going.”

  Currie staggers out of bed. She wears a long nightgown that matches her My Twinn doll’s. Her American Girl dolls are lined up next to the My Twinn. Though Currie acts older, she’s still a little girl.

  * * *

  The doctor checks Currie’s reflexes, eyes, ears, throat, heart, temperature, weight, height, and lungs. After all that and a twenty-five dollar copay, he tells me it’s probably just hay fever. The Tylenol seems to have reduced her headache, so I breathe easier.

  She plods to the SUV. It doesn’t feel right when I have to help her into the car and seatbelt her. Maybe I paid too much attention to Zoe the past few weeks, and jealousy is nibbling away at Currie.

  We go home and Currie sleeps well into the afternoon while I work on a new song.

  As I’m about to drive to the warehouse, my cell rings some Crank tune that Currie programmed into my phone. She likes the female lead singer who has an edgy tone, yet on other songs, she sounds as sweet as sin. It’s an underground band that Currie picked up online local to the Chicago area.

  “Hello,” I say.

  “Hey, could you give me a ride?” Jinx asks. “It happened. My car died. I swear I’ll get it fixed by this weekend.”

  “No problem. Can you be ready in fifteen?”

  “Yeah.”

  I drive in that direction while speed dialing Mrs. Nowak in the hands-free set Currie bought me. “How’s Zoe doing?”

  “Much better today. We’re going to rest at home today and catch up on schoolwork. She goes back in a couple days for observation, but I think she’s been through the worst and the doctors say her white blood cell count has improved. How’s Currie?”

  “The pediatrician says it’s hay fever. She’s taking the day off though to rest.”

  “This is hard on them. Thank you, Lennon for being so good to Zoe. She went on and on about how you saved the day yesterday when she got sick all over Clive.”

  “My pleasure. We’ll talk later.” Poor little Zoe. She so desperately wants to be normal. Clive was a good sport about it. He always is.

  Currie and I will go back to hospital visits in a few days. Right now, she needs the break.

  When I pull into Jinx’s driveway, Currie’s asleep. Jinx doesn’t fly out the door, so I get out. I leave the SUV running with the heater on but lock the doors, using the spare key.

  As I’m about to knock on the door, I hear yelling inside, and it’s not Jinx. The voice sounds masculine. I shuffle through the bushes to the window and peek in. The sheer curtains obscure my view. There’s a crash. This time it’s Jinx screaming.

  I try the door. Luckily, it opens. I don’t want to interfere with a parent disciplining a teenager because it’s not my business, but I can’t shake the image of the bruise on her face.

  Before I call out her name, I hear. “You’re eighteen now and plenty legal. You wanted it before, why not now?”

  Oh God, it’s her stepfather. A sick feeling swirls in my gut, and sympathy pores out of me for her. What a dick?

  “Leave me alone,” Jinx yells.

  “I’m not taking that from you. You little tease.”

  As I turn the corner, a well built, middle-aged man backhands Jinx, sending her flying and crashing into the wall.

  “That’s enough,” I say, waving my hands.

  The guy’s five-ten, five-eleven, but his body reminds me of a prize fighter. I’m hoping my height will intimidate him, and I won’t have to fight because that would end badly for me.

  “Stay the hell out of this,” the guy charges me.

  Not good. I’m not quick or strong. I push out my arms. He swings wildly at me. One punch lands on my chin. Another hits my gut. Pain sears into me. I’ll be feeling this tomorrow. I shove him back, which catches him off balance. He stumbles backward and falls to the floor. Lucky break for me.

  I signal Jinx to get out while I do the same. Blood gushes down her forehead. She picks up her keyboard by the door and is in the backseat of my SUV with her instrument before I reach the car. I scramble into the driver’s seat.

  The guy storms out of the house, shaking his fist at me. I don’t wait and peel out of the driveway and down the street.

  “Oh my God,” Currie says. “What happened to you?” She stares wild-eyed at Jinx. She takes a napkin from the seat pocket and hands it to Jinx.

  I adjust my mirror. Her brow is split wide-open. Blood pours from it. “Currie, call nine-one-one and have the cops meet us at the emergency room.”

  “No. That won’t be necessary,” Jinx says. Her eyes plead with me.

  “Not going to happen. This nonsense has to stop. Even if you won’t press charges, I am.”

  “I don’t want any trouble. Please don’t.” Her voice is not much above a whisper. Her hand clasps my arm between the bucket seats. “My mom won’t understand.”

  “You’re crazy,” Currie says. “That guy deserves to go to jail. Why wouldn’t your mom care?”

  “Was that your stepfather?” I ask.

  Jinx nods while pressing the blood-soaked napkin against her brow. Currie gives her a wad of them when it soaks through.

  “That’s messed up,” Currie says. It’s a good sign that she’s feeling better.

  “When did you turn eighteen?” I ask.

  “Today.”

  She’s over two months older than me. Huh, an older woman. “I’m sorry. We’ll make it up to you.” It sucks that her mom isn’t here to celebrate her birthday. Mrs. Nowak has done mine since I was eight and introduced myself. Instead, Jinx’s stepfather hits on her in both senses of the words.

  I study her in the rearview mirror. I’ve finally put all the pieces together, Jinx’s bruise at school, the police, her fear of guys. “Currie, cover your ears.”

  “I’ve heard it all,” she says as she cups her hands over her ears.

  I stare at Jinx. “Your stepfather raped you. Didn’t he?”

  Jinx’s mouth pops open. “I’m not going to discuss this in front of your little sister.”

  “Her ears are covered,” I say.

  Currie puts her hands down. “I’ve seen worse.”

  That’s Jonathan’s fault.

  She gives Jinx an all-knowing smile. “You know who my parents are, don’t you?” She studies Jinx for a moment. “Your stepdad did touch you. What a creep.”

  “If you call the cops, it’ll just make things worse between Mom and me.”

  Tears are coming. I can smell the rain. “I don’t see how it could get much worse. Look at your eye. That’s not acceptable. How old were you when it happened?” Zach said they broke up just before they turned sixteen.

  “I was fifteen,” Jinx says in a small voice, “but you don’t understand. It was my fault.”

  “You were fifteen,” my minia
ture psychoanalyst Currie says. “How could it be your fault?”

  I catch Currie’s gaze in the rearview mirror to give her a warning glare. “What happened?”

  Jinx is shaking so hard, her teeth are rattling. “I can’t just tell you.”

  “You can either practice on me or with the police officer,” I say. “And as much as you dislike me, you at least know me. What happened at that party?”

  Jinx cocks her head in wonderment. “How did—”

  “It’s not important,” I say.

  Jinx stares out the window, tears streaming down her face. “It’s my fault. Mom had just married Him. I thought he was cute. I couldn’t believe how well she’d done. I went to a party at Izzy’s house. We got really drunk.” Her face blushes to match that wild red hair of hers. “Oh God. This is so embarrassing.”

  Currie’s hand flits in the air. “We’ve seen worse. I’m sure. You forget I live with Lennon.”

  Jinx cracks a half smile before another tear slips down her cheek. “When I got home, I told my stepfather how cute I thought he was. I don’t remember much after that. I think I passed out, but the next day, I knew what had happened.” She’s sobbing now.

  God, that’s awful. I’m not a girl, obviously, but if some guy did that to Currie, I’d put him in the hospital.

  I pull over the SUV, get out of it, and open the backseat door. My arms fold around Jinx. “It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault.”

  “But it was.” She sobs into my shirt, a mixture of blood and tears stain it. “If I hadn’t led him on.”

  I’m not one to judge. I’ve had a handful of married older women that I’m no longer proud of.

  I force Jinx to look at me by lifting her chin. “Jinx, you were fifteen, you were drunk. He hurt you and took advantage of the situation. He’s a predator. He sought you out. He may have even married your mother for that reason. To get at you.”

  Jinx stares up at me and blinks. “Really?”

  I can’t help it. I’m thinking nasty thoughts with her body pressed against mine. This isn’t my original intention, so I step away from her. “Let’s get you to the hospital.”

  I slide behind the wheel and drive. It all makes sense now, her behavior, her avoidance of sex, her fear. I’m guessing Jonathan got Mom drunk when she was seventeen before he bedded her. He certainly didn’t want to marry her before I was born. I’m not sure what forced him down the aisle two years later.

  When we walk into the ER, a nurse smiles at me. I grin back at her so that we get immediate attention instead of the usual two-hour wait. Currie has perked up from the excitement, which makes me feel better. I hate it when she’s sick.

  The nurse leads us to a room. She returns with an icepack for my chin that’s now throbbing and a sterile pad for Jinx’s cut. It isn’t long before the doctor comes in to stitch Jinx up.

  Before he can ask what happened to her, Currie tells him, “The police are coming to take an official statement.” Practicing attorney, psychologist, ballerina, accomplished violinist. I wonder what she’ll be when she grows up. I’d like to think I’ve had a hand in all that besides being her chauffeur.

  As the doctor finishes stitching Jinx’s eyebrow, a female officer shows up. “Would you like the gentleman to leave?” she asks, assessing the bruise on my chin and the blood on my shirt.

  She must think I’m the perp. In this case, my smile receives a stern look from the officer.

  Jinx lowers her head. Shame heats her cheeks, and it makes me pity her. “It doesn’t matter if he stays. He’s not the one who did this, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  That was nice of Jinx.

  “I should stay,” Currie says. “Someone needs to protect the victim’s rights.”

  The police officer smiles at her. “Are you an attorney?”

  “Not yet. I’m representing her until one arrives. I don’t want you trying to convince her that this was in any way her fault.”

  The police officer lets Currie remain in her chair. By the grin the cop’s wearing, she must be enjoying Currie’s precociousness.

  My cell phone vibrates. It’s the Humane Society. Again. What’s wrong with them? Can’t they take a hint? I hang up on them as I go outside, leaving the door open enough so that I can eavesdrop. I’ve waited long enough to hear Jinx’s full story.

  The policewoman asks Jinx how her brow got cut.

  Jinx draws in a long breath. “My stepfather.”

  “What happened?” The cop’s voice is filled with patience and empathy. “Take your time.”

  There’s a long silence. “He thinks now that I turned eighteen that I’ll have sex with him. I said no, and he hit me.” Jinx’s voice has calmed down quite a bit. With Currie’s encouragement, Jinx tells the officer what happened when she was fifteen.

  My phone vibrates again. What the hell? “Kiki, what do you want? We don’t have time to volunteer right now.”

  “I’m sorry to bother you, Lennon, but did you or Currie get bitten or scratched by the kittens you gave us?”

  I think back to that night. Currie told me she hadn’t. “No. Why?”

  “That’s good news. The kittens have rabies. Whoever dumped them off probably brought them from a rural area. Several of our staff had to have the shots. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you to make sure you weren’t infected.”

  My heart shrivels to the point my chest spasms like I’m about to have a heart attack. Currie was sucking her finger that night as if she’d been bitten. I’ve been deleting Kiki’s messages. Oh God, if something happens to Currie, it’s all my fault. “What are the symptoms of rabies?”

  “Loss of appetite, fatigue, headaches, dizziness. As it progresses, seizures.”

  “But it’s curable, right?”

  “As long as you get the shots before any symptoms appear, the prognosis is good.”

  I’m not sure I want to hear the answer to this. “What if you don’t?”

  “It’s almost always fatal.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  JINX

  The officer tells me they’ll issue a warrant for Step-monster’s arrest. Mom will blame me with all the evidence He has accrued against me. She’ll take His word over mine.

  I can’t believe I let Lennon talk me into telling the cops, though that’s what Rena encouraged me to do the last time I showed up with a black eye. I don’t want any more problems. Mom’s been through enough with losing Dad.

  Lennon barges into the room, startling me. He shoves past the officer to reach Currie. She practically jumps out of her seat. The color has drained from his handsome face.

  “We’re not through yet,” the officer says in a harsh tone.

  “Currie, you need to be honest with me,” Lennon says slowly. “Did any of those kittens at the recital scratch or bite you?”

  “No.” There’s something in her voice that hints at a lie.

  Lennon clutches both her shoulders. “You have to tell me the truth.” His voice sounds a bit rough.

  She pouts. “You won’t get mad, will you?”

  His grip relaxes. “I promise I won’t.”

  “It was just a little scratch. The kitten didn’t mean to. I didn’t want you to have them destroyed.”

  Oh shit. If it’s rabies, then they’ve already been put down. That’s the only way to determine they have the virus.

  Lennon hugs her. “We have to admit you into the hospital for tests.” He turns toward me. “I hate to do this to you, Jinx, but I have to take care of Currie. You can stay here with me if you’d like, but I might not be able to drive you anywhere until much later.”

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, getting up. There’s so much fear in his eyes that it makes me tense. It’s just like when Mom heard the news about Dad having terminal cancer.

  Lennon looks at Currie then me. He doesn’t want to upset her, so he remains silent.

  “Is there something I can do?” I ask.

  “You can wait here, and I’ll give you a lift once I
find out what’s going on with Currie.”

  “Do you have someplace you can go until we can reach your mother?” the police officer asks me.

  “I’ll call Rena.” I don’t want to leave Lennon. Whatever’s wrong has him scared. He loves Currie so much. “I’ll stay here for a while. Let’s get Currie to the doctor.”

  “You need to sign these forms,” the police officer says.

  I don’t even read them but scribble my name wherever she says.

  Lennon scoops up Currie and carries her back to the ER where a nurse gets her into a private room immediately. I follow them. He hugs Currie close to him. She clings to him, frightened, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

  A nurse comes in and draws blood, scrapes skin off the back of her neck, and takes saliva. Currie winces as the needle pokes her. She watches Lennon for cues about her condition.

  “Do you think she has rabies?” I ask in a small voice.

  “There’s a possibility,” he says.

  Currie lies in the hospital bed, her face ashen. She’s reacting to Lennon’s anxious expression. I can tell he’s trying to hide it from her, but he’s not succeeding. Rabies is incurable unless you get the shots shortly after being exposed. The recital was almost two weeks ago. How long does it take to contract the disease?

  Lennon’s whole life revolves around Currie. It was the same for my mom. She worried and fussed over Dad that whole year he suffered. When he died, she moped around the house until she met Step-monster. I don’t want Mom to go through that again. I don’t want to have to suffer like that ever again, so I don’t wish it on Lennon. What would Lennon do without Currie?

  His phone keeps ringing. He finally turns it off, then mine buzzes.

  I go into the hall to answer it.

  “Where are you guys?” Danny Boy asks. “We’ve been waiting for over an hour at the warehouse.”

  “We’re at the hospital.”

  “Were you in a car accident?”

  “No.” The good part is I don’t have to tell them yet about my eye or Step-monster. “Currie’s been admitted to the hospital.”

  A short silence on the phone follows. “What for?”