Torque

by Shauna Allen

  “Jesse! No!” I fought to get between them, shoving Jesse back. But he was like a boulder, unmoving, his hate-filled gaze locked onto Joel.

  He ignored me, instead stepping around me and shoving Joel back with a fierce push, his chest bowed up. This was going to be bad.

  A crowd was beginning to form around us, their blood-thirsty gazes hungry for a fight. But it couldn’t happen. Jesse would be violating his parole and would end up back in jail. I clutched the back of his shirt. “Jesse, please,” I pleaded, praying my voice would calm him. “Let it go.”

  Joel’s eyes flicked to me then back to Jesse. “Yeah, Joyner. Let it go. No cheap piece of ass is worth—”

  “Say it,” Jesse fumed, his fists clenched as he stepped up into Joel’s face. “I fucking dare you.”

  Joel’s mouth slacked open and I could see the debate in his eyes as he glanced around at the crowd. Please shut up, I silently begged him.

  Jesse poked him in the chest with a rigid finger. “You listen to me, Mackie. I don’t give a fuck who’s watching or about going back to prison. I will rip you apart if you touch an unwilling woman again. Especially my woman. Do you fucking understand me, asshole?”

  Joel’s gaze slid over Jesse’s shoulder and he seemed to go from tense to cocky in a heartbeat. He sharpened his glare. “Well, la-ti-da. You’re tapping the little red-headed whore . . .”

  Jesse reared back, his fist raised.

  Desperate, I lunged and held it back, though it was like fighting a tornado.

  “What’s going on here?” a voice boomed.

  Joel grinned. Jesse remained frozen in place, staring Joel down. The rest of the place was silent, only the line dance music playing overhead and a glass clinking at the bar. Still desperately hanging onto Jesse, I looked over just as a Sherriff’s deputy stepped from between the bouncers and got in the middle of the fray.

  Once Jesse registered that there was a cop present, I felt his whole body tighten even more, but he let his arm drop. I tugged his T-shirt and pulled him next to me, wrapping my arm around his waist, giving him all my silent support.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” Joel said, an arrogant grin in place that slid off as he made eye contact with the officer. “I’ve got a protective order against this man and he just got in my face for no reason.”

  Jesse was practically writhing in anger, but he kept his cool.

  The deputy faced us. “That true?”

  “No.” Jesse stood firm, even as I could see the bias washing over the officer’s face.

  “No?” The wiry Sheriff glanced between the two men.

  Joel stayed silent, his arms crossed across his chest as if he was just waiting for the show.

  Son-of-a-bitch. He knew exactly what he was doing when he baited Jesse. I stepped forward. “There’s been a misunderstanding here.” All eyes turned to me and I swallowed. “I don’t know about any protective orders, but he grabbed me.” I pointed at Joel. “I tried to fight him off, but he wouldn’t let me go. I hurt myself trying to get away. Jesse was just protecting me.”

  The cop’s eyes skimmed over Jesse, who was still vibrating fury. “Is that true?”

  Jesse nodded curtly. “Yes, sir.”

  He swiveled to look at Joel. The weasel shook his head and raised his hands in innocence. “I just asked the lady to dance. He came outta nowhere and started shoving and threatening me. I didn’t know they were together, I swear it.”

  “Liar!” I shouted before I could stop myself.

  “Enough!” The officer rested his hands on his gunbelt with a sigh. “Both of you, come with me.” He pointed out Jesse and Joel. When I moved to follow, he stopped me. “Just them.”

  Shocked and scared, I slumped into the closest chair and watched as the three men strode to a corner by the front door.

  “You all right?”

  I glanced up at Tori’s sweet, concerned voice. “I think so.”

  She shocked me by sitting across from me and clasping my cold hand. “That Joel Mackie is a prick and a bully. I’m glad someone finally stood up to him.”

  I kept my gaze riveted on the men in the corner. The officer was mumbling to both of them, Joel looked cocky and Jesse . . . he looked defeated, all traces of anger gone.

  I stood, my stomach hurdling to my knees as the Sheriff spun Jesse around and clasped handcuffs on him. My hand flew to my mouth.

  No.

  This could not be happening.

  But it was and Jesse refused to look at me, which tore my heart out.

  Jesse

  I ended up right back where I started. Where I always knew I belonged. A happy life with a woman to love by my side was not in my cards and I was a fool to ever believe it was.

  Apparently, Officer Lazy Ass couldn’t be bothered to look into the details of the issue between Joel and me, it being the end of his shift and all, so it was easier to haul my ass in and let the paperwork sort itself out.

  I slumped in my holding cell waiting for my parole officer to show up and to be officially booked. It smelled like piss and body odor, but I was familiar with prison scents, so it didn’t make me flinch.

  I bowed over, my elbows on my knees, and raked my hair, glaring at my fucking ankle monitor. I cupped the back of my neck and tried to imagine my life before all the soul-sucking darkness. I couldn’t. It’d eaten me alive since that summer afternoon when my childhood had been stolen and there was no going back and no outrunning my past.

  I glance up into Coach Sanders’ face as he squeezes my shoulder tighter. I swallow hard and search his face for something, but I’m not sure what. Maybe to let me know it’ll be okay and he’ll take me home.

  The rain begins to pelt down so hard, it’s splashing back up in muddy splats.

  He gives a cursory glance around us, but we’re alone. I know we are. “Come with me, Jesse. I have something for you.”

  I follow him behind the building, where we’re hidden between the windowless brick wall and a hedge of bushes.

  He smiles down at me, but I can’t smile back. I feel sick. I want to run, but I know he can catch me.

  Slowly, his hands reach for his belt buckle. “This will be our secret, Jesse . . .”

  And it had been. I’d never told a single soul and it’d eaten me alive every single day since then. I’d quit baseball before the playoffs that year without an explanation to my parents, even though my mom begged me to tell her why I was giving up something I loved.

  I’d heard through the grapevine that Coach Sanders was still in the area, but was homebound with Parkinson’s. Served him right.

  The clank of bars preceded the tap of shoes on the concrete outside my cell. It had to be nearly midnight, so it was probably the guard making rounds. I didn’t bother to glance up.

  “Jesse.”

  My eyes snapped open at the familiar voice. Sweet hope unfurled inside my chest in a rush before I sucked in a breath and forced it back and met her gaze through the bars. Rachel stared at me, her hands white-knuckled as she clutched the bars in front of her, her dark eyes wide and expressive as she studied me.

  “What are you doing here?” I voiced the first shitty thought that came to my head.

  She tilted her head and regarded me through wary eyes. “I came to see you. What else?”

  “And they just let you in? To visit?” I flicked a glance toward the exit.

  She released the bars as a flush creeped up her cheeks. “No, not exactly . . .”

  I stood and paced like a caged animal. “Then what, exactly?”

  With a great intake of air, she steeled herself in front of my eyes, straightening her shoulders and tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I told them I was your attorney and demanded to see my client.”

  I froze and stared. “Are you fucking serious?”

  I’ll give her credit, she didn’t let her Rachel-the-lawyer façade drop. “Yes. I’m absolutely serious.”

  Disgust roared through me, nearly making me sick. I spun away and slamme
d my palms against the plaster on the wall behind me. The last thing, and I mean the absolute fucking last thing, I wanted was for my girlfriend to have to step in and save the day. It just wasn’t right. She deserved better. “I haven’t even been booked,” I said, forcing my voice to be calm.

  “But you will.”

  I slowly pivoted at her words, my heart heavy. “That’s not your problem.”

  She flinched like I’d slapped her, but she quickly regained her composure. “Don’t be stupid.” She clipped out her words in an impressive tone that must have other attorneys paying attention. “Violating a protective order is serious business. You could go back to prison.” She tilted her head as if waiting for my reaction to this.

  Well, she was in for a disappointment. I’d already resolved myself to my fate.

  She took one step in my direction. “I can help you, Jesse. It’s my job and I’m pretty damn good at it. Don’t let your pride get in the way.”

  Pride?

  It was so much more than that. Sure, I’d really love to have a normal life, to be able to offer her normalcy. Love.

  But that just wasn’t in me, and to have her acting like defending your boyfriend from criminal charges was normal, well, that just made me feel two feet tall.

  I huffed out a ragged breath as anger roared through me and I directed it at the closest target. “Isn’t that some sort of conflict of interest or something? I mean, we are fucking.”

  Her cheeks became a mottled red as she stood silent, staring at me, pain clear in her eyes. “I came to help you. I know the law and I can handle this. If our relationship becomes an issue, I’ll deal with it. But if you’re going to act like a child then you can figure it out on your own. Let me know what you decide.” She turned and marched away, leaving the space feeling remarkably empty.

  “Wait.”

  She paused at my one pained word, but she didn’t face me.

  “I’m sorry. If you can help me, I’d appreciate it.”

  I watched her head bob in a quick nod. Her hand came up to wipe her face and I knew I’d made her cry. “Fine.” She faced me, pain in every tear track on her cheeks. “I’ll get with the DA Monday morning and find out what I can. I’ll let you know.”

  With my fingers around the bars in a deathgrip, I watched her leave me and my heart behind.

  Rachel

  I walked out of the jail with my head held high, the humid night air whipping around me. I kept it together long enough to slump into my car and rest my head against the steering wheel.

  Only then did I let the sobs come.

  Jesse had essentially taken everything I had to offer him . . . my help, my body, my love . . . and shoved it back in my face. And all for what? His stupid male ego? Pride?

  Didn’t he know I’d do anything for him? Helping him fight this legal battle was nothing. A blip on the spectrum of what I’d be willing to do for him. And, still, he’d effectively broken up with me without saying the words. His actions said all that needed to be said. He wasn’t strong enough to fight for us in spite of our differences.

  Well, whatever.

  I swiped my tears and took a big breath around my stuffy nose. I’d been heartbroken before¸ I’d survive. But, somehow, knowing he’d still have to spend the rest of the weekend in jail did not make me feel any better. For all this pain, I still wanted him free and happy. Even if it was without me.

  I jammed the key in the ignition and roared the Audi to a start and headed home.

  Baybridge was deserted this time of night, so I made it back to the house quickly. The sky was pitch black with barely a quarter moon and I fought the chill that raced up my spine. Rushing to my front door, I slammed inside and locked it behind me.

  “What is wrong with you?” I cursed my skittishness, raking a hand through my tangled curls.

  I flipped on every light as I made my way to the bedroom and changed into my nightgown. I should’ve probably gone right to bed, but I knew I’d just stare at the ceiling and obsess about everything that had happened tonight.

  Instead, I poured myself a glass of milk and tucked myself onto the sofa and flipped through the channels as I chugged my drink. Nothing but infomercials and old reruns of bad sitcoms. With a frustrated huff, I set down my empty glass and yanked up my cell phone, knowing that nobody would have called this late. Well, Jesse used to occasionally, but he wasn’t going to be doing that again, was he?

  “Jerk.” I tossed the phone onto the cushion next to me, my eye catching on the Rodin statue he’d studied when he first came over. I’d bought it because it was beautiful and sensual and, well, I collected pretty things. But I appreciated it for totally different reasons now. Now, it reminded me of all the ways Jesse had made love to me. How it felt to have his body move over mine, to totally eclipse me.

  I’d fallen headlong, ocean-deep, and impossibly in love with him.

  With a groan, I realized how stupid and unavoidable that had been. I’d been a stone’s throw from loving him since I was sixteen. It only took a small glimpse into the heart of him to hopelessly fall.

  “Ugh.”

  I rose and took my glass to the kitchen to rinse it out. As I moved to leave, I caught sight of the package West had sent me of our dad’s things. My finger hovered over the light switch. What the hell? I snatched it up and took it with me to bed.

  After brushing my teeth, I slid under the covers and picked up the thick envelope. My brother’s note poked out the open flap. Why did he care about a bunch of old papers?

  I grabbed the whole pile and drew it out onto my lap. The top sheet was a post office receipt for overnight delivery of a priority box to a small town about an hour north. I traced my fingertip over my dad’s handwriting where he’d written ‘birthday gift’ in the corner.

  Puzzled, I rifled through a few more pieces of paperwork. Similarly strange, but not conclusive. What was all this?

  I flipped to the middle of the stack and found some old bank statements, and put them aside to be shredded, but paused when I noticed a pattern of withdrawals. I snatched them back up and studied them closer. My eyes had not deceived me. Every single month, like clockwork and without fail, my dad had mailed a five hundred dollar check to someone named Barbara Clemson. I kept flipping. The payments went back as long as the statements did, at least fifteen years, stopping the month he died.

  A weird emotion slid through my chest as my sixth sense kicked in. The thought that my dad had kept something from me sucker punched me in the gut. Sure, I knew he was a private guy and he kept a lot close to the vest, but I thought we’d become friends as I’d grown into an adult. He’d shared with me the details of his and Mom’s rocky marriage that had been kept from me as a child. We’d discussed how isolated I felt as the only girl in the house once my mom left and found out her calling was not being a mother. My dad had done the best he could in those circumstances, but he did tell me later how much he knew he was lacking. What I’d been lacking. I loved him all the more for it and even confided in him about my crush on Jesse and my doubts about Angelo.

  Now determined to understand what had been so important that he’d kept it from me and my brother, I kept rifling until I reached some legal looking documents on the bottom of the stack. I picked up a birth certificate.

  Aubrey Marie Clemson, born fifteen years ago on December 5th at 4:17 a.m. to Barbara Clemson and . . . Richard Chaseman?

  My stomach dropped and I drug in a breath.

  No.

  In a daze, I moved to the next document and read through tear-filled eyes. It was DNA results proving that my father had taken his biggest secret to the grave.

  I had a sister.

  I decided to wait to call West until I’d figured out the truth.

  Well, the truth was right in front of me in the form of a paternity test, but I needed time for it to settle. To figure out what to do with this news.

  I’d re-examined all the documents again with fresh eyes, trying to put myself in my daddy’s shoes. Bu
t I was so hurt and confused, I was having a hard time computing.

  A sister?

  A sister.

  A living, breathing piece of my father that I’d never met. Did he love her? Had he done things with her that he’d never done with me? Why the secrecy?

  The questions were breaking my heart so I eventually set it aside and snuggled down under the covers.

  After a fitful night, pondering the million possible scenarios, it all circled back to the same thing. My father had another child. Another daughter. And I needed to figure out the story.

  I drug myself out of bed in the morning and booted up my computer. It only took a few minutes and some Internet sleuthing to find this Barbara Clemson. She’d won some achievement award at her company when they sponsored a run for MS and her smiling face was in the paper. I stared, trying to see what my father saw. She had a slick bob of chestnut hair, twinkling green eyes, a sweet smile. She seemed very nice and normal. Everything my eccentric mother was not. Was that what he’d needed? Did she make him happy?

  Next, I found her in a church bulletin. She was the president of the women’s group, led Bible study and taught Sunday school. God, she was Pollyanna.

  But no mention of her daughter.

  I had to know.

  I checked the address my dad had been mailing the checks and packages to and typed it in a search engine. Apparently they still lived there.

  Indecision hummed through me. As badly as I wanted answers, I struggled with what would be overstepping my bounds. For all I knew, this woman had no idea I existed or that my dad had died. Maybe they’d parted on bad terms.

  But he’d been sending five hundred dollars a month for years. Wasn’t she wondering why the payments suddenly stopped? Did we owe this girl anything?

  Yes.

  Answers, if nothing else.

  Thankful it was Saturday and I had no work to tend to, I jumped up and dressed in jeans, a plain white tee, and tennis shoes, then tugged my hair into a ponytail. A quick swipe of mascara and some lip gloss and I was outta there.

  I texted Delilah on my way out the door: OMG girl! Hella weekend. Jesse is back in jail and just found out my dad had the mother of all secrets! Going to check it out . . .