“The first time I remember going to pick up my daddy out of the tank I was maybe ten. He’d left me and EJ home and gone fishin’. Daddy’s friend Lou came over and picked us up, said he had to go get Elmer but he couldn’t go into the station, he needed EJ to do it. So off we went to pick up my daddy from the tank. He was sober by then and madder than a boiled owl that me and EJ were with Lou. He wanted to go tie one on but he couldn’t because his kids were there. Daddy yelled at Lou the whole way back about bringing us. Then when we got home he whooped EJ’s ass for leaving the wood stove on. Which was BS because it was winter and it was always burning. Daddy just wanted a reason to wail on EJ.
“He still hadn’t burned out his ire so he belted my ass until I couldn’t sit.” I stopped to take a breath and savagely banished the memory before it took me under. “So, Jonny, whatever you think I’m gonna see in that station is nothing I haven’t seen before. It’s gonna hurt like hell for you to see your ma like that. But I swear to you I won’t bat an eye. And I don’t mean that in a bad way, I mean that as in, I’ve seen worse. However she looks, whatever she says, my heart will break for you, Jonny. Not for me. Not for her. For you. But even if I’d never been down this road I would still be walking into that station by your side.”
Jonny was staring down at me and once again I wondered why I opened my mouth. It was too easy with him. I didn’t want him to be alone, not even in his miserable thoughts about his family. I wanted him to understand he wasn’t the only one who had been forced to do things he didn’t want to do—even if it was only to keep a secret.
“Jesus, Bobby.”
“I didn’t tell you that so you’d feel bad for me.”
“I know you didn’t.” Then he stepped forward, cupped my jaw, tilted my head back, and with a hoarse voice he rasped, “You amaze me.”
His forehead dropped to mine and his fingertips grazed my chin, cheeks, then stopped when he curled his hands around the back of my neck. The closeness eased some of my tension and it seemed to do the same for him. Slowly his breath evened until we were in sync, exchanging air, connected in a new intimate way.
“I’m sorry I was such an asshole. I wanted you here, I didn’t know how to ask. I don’t want to face this alone but I feel like a selfish ass dragging you along. I have no idea what I’m going to find when I go in there. I don’t know how to help her. She’s getting worse and I’m scared I’m going to lose her. Either she’s going to sink further into the bottle or my resentment is going to grow until any love I feel for her is gone and I end up hating my mother.”
As it were Jonny and I didn’t just have a lot in common, we were the same damn person. I knew from experience that if he didn’t stop the resentment it would grow into hatred. There was of course a slight difference between his mother and mine, Anita Spencer hadn’t bailed. She’d stayed and I wondered which was actually worse. Me growing up with the knowledge I wasn’t enough to make the woman who birthed me stay and give me what little she could. Or Jonny having to witness his mother’s spiral into the abyss of hopelessness. Seeing Jonny’s misery I was beginning to think my mother’s abandonment was actually an act of kindness. I didn’t have to see Kathy’s demise. She was a ghost, a distant memory I could barely recall. But Anita, she was a constant in Jonny’s life, a daily reminder of his father’s cheating. I would bet every time he saw his mom drunk it felt like a slap in the face, a fresh wound that couldn’t heal.
God, Jonny.
Hiding in plain sight.
“We got this. Together we’re going to go in, do what we need to do to get your mom home, then we’ll go from there. Together, Jonny. You and me. We’ll do it together.”
I felt his sigh of relief slide over my skin and it washed away the rest of my irritation. I could do this. I could endure Jonny’s snappy attitude and harsh words. All I needed was patience. And if I ran out, I could draw up the memory of this moment—his vulnerability, his honesty, his trust.
All three were precious.
A gift to cherish for a man who pretended to be strong.
11
Jonny walked hand-in-hand with Bobby into the station. The familiarity of it hit him square in the chest. All the anger Bobby had untwisted came rushing back and knotted painfully. He’d spent years of his life in this very building. His job. His passion. His refuge from shit his family had piled on him. His place of business.
Now his mother had sullied his sanctuary.
A cruel twist of fate.
The detective who’d spent years chasing down leads, interrogating bad guys, putting criminals behind bars, was there to pick up his mother after she’d been arrested.
Thank fuck he’d already quit.
“Spencer,” Vaughn Holbrook greeted.
Jonny gritted his teeth then forced himself to relax. At least his friend had stopped with his name and hadn’t tacked on an obligatory “good to see you” that might’ve pushed Jonny off the ledge he was precariously skirting.
“Vaughn.” The two men shook hands and under extreme duress, Jonny finished with, “Appreciate the call. I’m sorry—”
“Don’t, brother.” Fuck, he hated the pity in the other man’s tone, hated Vaughn saw his weakness. “Bobby Layne. Good to see this idiot here finally pulled his head out.”
It was hard to miss Vaughn’s flirtatious draw. Jonny certainly didn’t miss it; he also didn’t like it.
“How ’bout—” Bobby clenched his hand, halting Jonny’s outburst.
“I haven’t seen you in a minute. How’ve you been?”
Bobby smiled at his former colleague. Vaughn didn’t miss a beat when he returned, “You know me, I get by.”
That meant Vaughn locked himself behind a five-foot thick reinforced steel door and allowed no one access. Vaughn Holbrook made Jameson Grant—pre-Kennedy—look well-adjusted. Vaughn had followed Nixon Swagger back to Kent County, however, he didn’t want to work for Gemini Group. He didn’t want the responsibility of commitment. Nor did he want Nix, Jameson, Weston, Chasin, Alec, or Holden in his business so he slid under the radar. He was close to Nixon in proximity only. He checked in with the guys, mostly Nix, when he needed to. And that was only to appease Nix. If Vaughn had it his way, he would’ve gone off the grid and lived out the rest of his life in complete solitude. The only reason the man joined the sheriff’s department was because he wanted the appearance of normalcy. Again, that was to keep Nix off his back. Vaughn was good at his job. Too good—the former black-ops soldier had no business being a cop; his skills were wasted in a small town. But after what he’d seen and done, Jonny reckoned the man just wanted quiet.
“Did Chasin tell you about the concert?” Bobby asked. “You’re gonna come, right?”
Jonny wondered how Vaughn would wiggle his way out of the invitation when Bobby was staring at him with hopeful eyes.
“’Fraid not, sugar. We’re down a detective and the bad guys didn’t get the memo.”
So that was how he was going to play it—throw Jonny under the bus then roll the guilt on thick.
Bobby’s hand spasmed and Jonny looked down at her face carefully blank and looking beyond Vaughn. He allowed his eyes to follow her gaze and immediately saw what had caught her attention.
Anita Spencer. Dressed all in black like a grieving widow. Jonny wasn’t sure if he wanted to roar in extreme agitation or laugh at the insanity of the situation. And he wasn’t sure which was more insane, his mother being arrested or her grief-stricken over a man who treated her like shit, cheated on her, and had a bastard child.
He did neither. He also didn’t move. He remained rooted and fought to drag oxygen into his lungs.
How had this become his life?
The longer Jonny stood across the room from his mother in her proper black skirt and blouse, hair carefully styled, keeping up the appearance of a woman with high moral standing in the community, the more his gut tightened. Lies. More lies. Likely her eyes would be red-rimmed and it wouldn’t be because she’d been crying for her dead husband. Th
at early in the day she would’ve started with vodka, she would’ve gone straight to the hard stuff so she could face the day. The bullshit she’d created. The false story she’d allowed her husband to make them live.
The man was dead and yet she was still covering for him. She was still choosing him. When would the time come when she chose herself? Chose him? Would she ever wake up and open her eyes to what she’d done to her son? Probably not. That wasn’t his mother. His mother had no backbone, no strength. She’d wallow in her self-pity and continue to care what her neighbors thought before she’d comfort her son.
What would the neighbors think now? Her arrest would be in the Thursday paper. The weekly county newspaper printed all arrests in the police blotter. Everyone would know Anita Spencer was charged with a DWI.
“Baker thought it was best we kept her here,” Vaughn cut into Jonny’s musings. “No reason to take her to the other side.”
The other side being the jail. There were holding cells over there. Jonny knew he should appreciate the courteous treatment the sheriff had extended his mother but he didn’t want favors. Anita had made her bed and maybe if she had to lie in it she’d understand her actions had repercussions. That was a joke; she would never learn and Jonny was tired of attempting to school her.
“Is she ready to go?”
Jonny ignored his friend’s flinch and the same went for the way Bobby squeezed his hand. He knew his tone was harsh and he no longer cared. Enough was enough. Things were going to change in ways his mother would not appreciate.
“She is,” Vaughn confirmed. “Sampson feels like shit. He didn’t want to—”
“He was doing his job and the right thing. Not only did she break the law but she could’ve hurt someone.”
“And herself.”
“Come again?”
“And she could’ve hurt herself,” Vaughn explained and Jonny’s jaw clenched.
“Right.”
Why did that no longer matter to Jonny?
Because she’d pushed him to the brink and now he was so pissed he couldn’t stand the sight of his own mother. Could his life get any worse?
Hours later, he would find it could.
Then he made a decision.
“Babe, I need a favor.” He waited until he had Bobby’s full attention then went on. “I need you to drive her home.”
Bobby’s eyes widened and her face bleached. It was a shit favor. She barely knew his mother. Not to mention, she probably wouldn’t want to be around a drunk. Though Anita had been sitting in the station for hours so she was likely sober.
“Whatever you need,” she replied.
Jonny’s eyes slowly closed and his head dropped forward. God, how long had he wanted to hear those words from Bobby? How long had he denied himself the woman he loved? Too damn long. And now that he finally had her he was being a selfish prick.
He owed her an explanation. It wasn’t a good one, but it was the truth.
“I can’t look at her right now. I need to calm down before I—”
“Shh,” she hushed and stepped into his arms. “I said whatever you need and I meant it. I’ll drive her home and sit with her. You do what you need to do. I’ll wait for you. Don’t worry about her, I’ll get her settled.”
“Thank you.”
Relief washed over him but so did disgust. He should be stronger than this. He should be protecting Bobby. Anita was his responsibility; she always had been. Even when his father was alive, he was in charge of looking out for his mother.
Bobby’s father called his exploits fishing. His father had called it work. Calvin Spencer would put on a suit, kiss his wife goodbye, and walk out the front door of his family home carrying a briefcase and garment bag. He’d leave his children in favor of fucking whatever woman he kept on the side. He’d put his filthy, lying mouth on his wife knowing he was going to cheat on her. But it was his parting shot that still burned Jonny’s gut. The same thing every time his father left for the weekend. “Take care of your mother.” A simple request. One that Jonny deeply resented. Calvin should’ve been taking care of his wife. But he never did.
“Vaughn? Do you need Jonny for anything?” Bobby asked.
“No. Everything’s ready.”
“Go do what you have to do. I got this.”
Bobby rolled up on her toes and touched her lips to his. He didn’t find peace. And that pissed him off all the more. Something else his mother had stolen from him. Bobby was his. The only person with whom he felt whole. The one person who could always calm the storm. But not right then. Not when his alcoholic mother was dressed in black, mourning the motherfucker who had ruined their lives.
No. All Jonny could think about was how he would never be good enough.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Take what you need, Jonny. I promise I’ll take care of her.”
Damn, he loved her. Straight to his soul, he loved Bobby. But he couldn’t tell her that. He couldn’t say a goddamn thing. So he turned and walked out of the station, leaving his woman to deal with a shit situation that was his responsibility but he couldn’t handle it. Not without tearing into his mother.
“You’re back,” Nix greeted when Jonny walked into the reception area of Gemini Group.
Of course the man would know Jonny was on his way up. Nixon had cameras outside and in the stairwell that led to the second-floor offices. What he was surprised about was his friend hadn’t known he was on his way home.
“You didn’t hear?”
“Hear what? Last update from Chasin was you and Bobby were staying at the beach for another couple of days. Is she okay?”
At that moment, it was a good probability Bobby was not okay. But he pushed aside how that made him feel and concentrated on why he’d come to see Nixon.
“Right now Bobby is driving my mother home from the sheriff’s station. She was arrested. Driving while impaired.”
Nixon’s face was perfectly blank. Not even a twitch of shock.
“You knew?” Jonny inquired.
“That she’d been arrested? No. Did I know your mother is an alcoholic, yes. I’ve known since we were kids. My dad told me. He wasn’t gossiping, but that time we gave you a ride home after baseball practice he told me.”
Wayne Swagger hadn’t given him a ride home. He’d loitered around the ballfield waiting for Anita to show up to pick him up. Nix and Jonny had run the bases, made a race out of it while Wayne had timed them. Nix’s dad had made a game of it so Jonny wouldn’t realize how late it was getting. But Jonny knew.
“She forgot to pick me up,” Jonny lied.
Why the fuck was he still lying? “No, she didn’t forget. She was passed out drunk on the couch when I got home,” he admitted.
Nixon’s face was grim. He’d known that though; his father probably told him after he’d walked Jonny inside and saw.
“You never brought it up,” Nixon accused.
Jonny felt his friend’s accusation for what it was. Nix was pissed Jonny hadn’t reached out.
“There’s more to it than her being a drunk. A long, fucked-up story I’ll tell you about but I don’t have the time right now. I need to get to Bobby. But I wanted to stop by and talk to you.”
“You wanna go into the conference room?”
“No. I need a favor.”
Fuck, more favors. More asking for help.
“Anything you need.”
There it was again, the shame that threatened to take him to his knees. Jonny had lied for years. Hidden everything, and there Nixon was being the good friend he’d always been. The guilt gnawed at his insides. Jonny had no business asking anyone for favors, not when he’d been such an asshole over the years. And he wouldn’t if it weren’t important.
“The benefit concert in Nashville,” Jonny started. “I figure Jameson will be staying behind. I want to take his place. Bobby needs coverage. I’m not asking you to put me on the payroll, just give me the proper credentials that will give me full access to
the venue.”
“Why aren’t you asking to be on the payroll?”
“What?” Jonny shook his head, not tracking where Nix was going.
“Why aren’t you asking? I’ve offered you a job. Hell, my plan was to bring you on board as soon as I got into town. But all that shit with Dillinger happened, then Baker took over and I figured he’d have a shit hemorrhage if I poached you.”
Dillinger.
That was another fuck-up on Jonny’s part. Sheriff Richard Dillinger had been running roughshod over the citizens of Kent County for as long as Jonny could remember. His son, Dick Dillinger, was arguably worse. Dick lived up to his name and then some. The whole department hadn’t been dirty. But when the sheriff turned a blind eye to the havoc his son caused and encouraged his buddy Deputy Clifford to back up Dick in his endeavors of becoming a tyrant it painted everyone with the asshole brush. And there hadn’t been a damn thing Jonny could do but eat shit. Watch as Dick moved up in the ranks at the sheriff’s department, all the while terrorizing people. Dick Dillinger had even gone as far as pursuing Nixon’s sister-in-law Mandy when the girl had been a teenager. The motherfucker had been in his late twenties. The whole situation still made his stomach roil. Richard Dillinger despised Nixon and had sent his asshole son on a mission to seduce a teen to get Nixon to snap.
Thankfully, Richard Dillinger was rotting in the ground. Unfortunately, Dick Dillinger got off easy and was still breathing. The stupid fuck had gotten off for what he’d done to Mandy. The only good thing that had happened was Dick had slithered away to a neighboring county and kept to himself.
“I appreciate the offer but I can’t accept,” Jonny said.
“Why the fuck not?”
The bitter bark in Nix’s tone was one he was familiar with. It was the same way he’d sounded the first time Jonny had declined his job offer.
“Because I don’t need a handout.”
Nixon’s face turned a deep shade of red, a sign he was trying to rein in his temper but was failing.
“If your day wasn’t already shit and I wasn’t worried about your woman—and by the way, it’s about damn time the two of you sorted your shit and stopped dancing around each other. But now that you have, I suppose she’d give me shit if I gave you a black eye, which is what you deserve for spoutin’ off that stupid shit. A handout? Whacked, brother.”
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