Only Trick

by Jewel E. Ann

  Grady sighs. “For the same reason I didn’t tell you years ago. Without your memory you wouldn’t know what to do with the information. What was I supposed to say? ‘Yep, that’s Paula Bailey, the mayor’s wife whom I imagine you snorted cocaine off her tits, then fucked her right before she died of an overdose.’ What were you going to do with that little nugget of information? Tell Darby? Call the mayor and apologize?”

  “And I know now?” I yell, not really meaning to lash out at Grady.

  “At least now you can own it … make sense of why you did it.” Grady shakes his head. “If you tell Darby, it will destroy her. It will destroy everything you have.”

  I grunt. “If. You can’t be serious. There is no if. I have to tell her.”

  “She’ll leave you and no one would blame her.”

  I feel so fucking dead inside, like she’s already left me. “I’d rather lose her to the truth, than keep her because of a lie.”

  “I’m sorry.” Grady scrubs his face with his hands. “Maybe I should have told you.”

  I shake my head. “No, you were right. It had to be all or nothing.” I laugh, but it’s devoid of humor. “I wish I didn’t know.”

  Grady winces. “I knew it had to be quite the scandal, and that things were covered up. It’s how I felt certain that no one would be looking for you, but … I never imagined Rachel Hart. How the hell did a homeless kid from Queens get involved with a married, millionaire fashion designer?”

  I laugh through the sympathy I know he’s feeling for me.

  “And for the love of God, what are the odds that you end up marrying her stepdaughter?”

  I let go of a heavy sigh and proceed to tell him everything, starting with the necklace that belonged to Darby’s mom. The one that Rachel used to wear to remind me that her heart belonged to someone else. Impossible, considering the fucking bitch doesn’t have a heart.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Tamsen hands me another glass of wine and a new box of tissues then sits down on her couch beside me.

  “You need to call him.”

  “I’ve tried all day.” I sniffle. “He’s not answering, not responding. And I don’t know what I would say. ‘Hope you’re feeling better and oh, by the way, I know you fucked my stepmom and killed her friend?’” I release another sob and more tears.

  “I know in my heart, Trick didn’t kill her.” Tamsen rests her hand on my leg.

  “How? How can you know that? He was strung out on drugs and he owns a gun!” I sigh. “I’m sorry.” I press a tissue to my swollen eyes. “I’m not trying to take it out on you. I’m just so …”

  “Angry?”

  “Hurt. I’m dying inside, and I know he didn’t mean to hurt me, but he did. Now what? He doesn’t remember and I either have to tell him, forcing him to deal with actions he can’t remember, or I have to pretend I don’t know.” I suck in a shaky breath. “He’ll know. He’ll see it … feel it. He’ll just … know.”

  A sad smile pulls at her lips. “I love you, Darby. Because even now when you could be throwing things, screaming at him on the phone, or drawing up divorce papers … your concern is for him. No matter what you decide, know that you are my friend and always will be … with or without Trick in your life. Okay?”

  Tamsen’s words bring on a new round of sobs as we hug. In this moment I feel like she’s physically holding my emotions together … holding all the broken pieces of me together. In this moment I don’t know if Trick brought me to Tamsen or if she brought me to Trick when she and Grady saved him that night.

  *

  After a long bath, Tamsen grins, sitting cross-legged on the guest room bed, holding up a hair brush. “How was your bath?”

  “Nice.” I force my lips to pull up fractionally.

  “Sit. I’m going to brush your hair. It’s soothing … at least I think so.”

  It’s bittersweet that this girl friend moment is happening fifteen years later than it should be and under such heartbreaking circumstances.

  “Me too. Thank you.” I sit in front of her and let her treat me like the little sister she never had and vice versa. My phone rings on the dresser and we both freeze. I slowly get up and grab it from the dresser then sit back down. Tamsen rests a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “It’s him.”

  She tightens her grip. “You can do this.”

  I swipe my finger across the screen and hold it to my ear. “Hey.” I swallow back my entire heart that’s beating in my throat.

  “Hey.”

  One word from the voice that cuts me to my very soul is all it takes. Tears … they chase each other down my face, desperate to escape the monster of pain that resides inside me. I hold my breath and Tamsen hugs my back. I hear her sniffle and I know the pain she feels for two people she loves like family is ripping her apart as well, and her agony compounds my own.

  “Sorry I didn’t call you back earlier. I … wasn’t doing so well.”

  I press my palm to my chest, lip quivering, eyes closed. “It’s … okay.”

  “Darby, what’s wrong?”

  I can’t do it. The pain is too great. My phone falls to the bed and my body slumps as the raw emotions annihilate my heart.

  “Shh … I’ve got you.” Tamsen holds my shaking body. She grabs my phone. “You need to come, now.” Tossing the phone aside, she lies next to me, soothing me … helping me reach for my next breath. Tamsen is an angel from God, and tonight she’s saving me.

  *

  My eyes feel like they’re about to explode; I can only open them partway. My head? It already has. Even the slightest movement brings on the percussion. I groan, sitting up. Tamsen’s gone but there’s a note.

  At work. Ibuprofen on the bed stand. Call me if you need anything. He took the red eye, but I made him stay on the couch until you’re ready. FYI – your mom’s necklace—it triggered his memory, ALL of it. Love you, -T

  I suck in a breath, it feels like my last. He wasn’t sick; he was in shock. The shards of my heart stir in my chest, making new cuts … new pain. It’s love, hate, fear, anger. I slide my legs to the edge of the bed and freeze.

  Trick.

  He’s on the floor, curled up on his side, head resting against his arm—sleeping. The love I have for this man is enough to last a thousand lifetimes, but the pain is like a drop of blood on the whitest sheet. No matter how big the sheet, that little red dot will always stand out, and if it’s your blood, it can never be ignored.

  His eyes open with a slow blink. An eternity passes before he looks up at me and when he does, it’s a wilted flower begging for water, a dying love, and pain … so much pain.

  I stiffen even more as he sits up on his knees. His hands move to my legs.

  “Don’t … please.”

  His eyes fall to the floor in defeat and he nods.

  I bite my lips together and pray for strength to hold it together, one broken piece at a time. Yesterday’s revelations haunt me, visions of my husband with Rachel. Life is so cruel.

  “I forgive you,” I whisper, and he looks up slowly while I blink away the pain. “But … it’s not enough.”

  His eyes gloss over with tears.

  “How did you recognize my mom’s necklace?”

  His brow furrows. “Does it matter? You don’t need any more pain. I can’t … I won’t do this to you.”

  “Did Rachel wear it? Did my father give it to her?”

  He nods.

  I look up and shake my head. “What did she say the LC stood for?”

  “Love Cal.”

  I laugh. Unbelievable.

  “Lucy Carmichael. It stood for Lucy Carmichael!” I yell with more anger than I intend to.

  Trick flinches. “I’m sorry … I didn’t know.” Each word is barely a whisper.

  “Why was she wearing it?” I sob.

  “To remind me that she belonged to another man.”

  My husband fucked my stepmom while she wore my dead mother’s necklace. This can’t be happening.
r />   “She said you killed that woman.”

  His jaw twitches. “It was a drug overdose, period.”

  “But you gave her the drugs.”

  “No,” he says through gritted teeth while standing. He paces the room, running his hands through his hair. “Rachel gave her the drugs. Rachel gave me the drugs. I wasn’t a fucking drug addict until I met her!”

  “You could have said no.”

  “She blackmailed me!”

  I shake my head. “What are you talking about?”

  He stops, resting his fists on his hips. “I didn’t show up at her office to fuck her. I showed up to rob her. There, I’ve said it. She saw me in the park and told me when I was done doodling like a child that she had a real job waiting for me. It pissed me off so I went to even the score. When I got to her office I waited for the right opportunity. She stepped out for a few moments and that’s when I took her wallet from her purse. I didn’t want the money, I just wanted to piss her off in return. But when I sat back down with her wallet in my coat pocket that’s when I noticed it.”

  He shakes his head. “It was stupid of me not to have looked in the first place. She had a security camera in her office—proof that I took her wallet. Before I could make another move she came back in with a security guard and confronted me about what I did. I tossed the wallet on her desk and she dismissed the guard. She said she wouldn’t have me arrested if I agreed to work for her, so I did.”

  His gaze meets mine. “She took photos of me, but they were never used. She paid me in gifts that kept getting more elaborate. I went to fancy parties with her and that’s when I started doing drugs—drugs she provided. Eventually the drugs and alcohol led to—” He closes his eyes.

  I swallow hard, a few tears rolling down my cheeks. “Sex, they led to sex.”

  He nods. Somehow him actually admitting it cuts deeper than I imagined.

  “Every time I tried to get out she threatened to turn me in and assured me when the cops showed up they’d find enough drugs at my place—the place she purchased in my name—to put me in prison for a long time.”

  “How long?”

  “How long what?”

  “How long did you fuck them?”

  He flinches like a slap across the cheek.

  “Two years.”

  “Did you love them?”

  “I love you.”

  I close my eyes. “Did. You. Love. THEM?”

  “I hated them … I hated myself—still do. Time will never erase my past; prison would have been better. Because I’m in hell right now, and I don’t think I’ll ever escape.”

  How fitting, I feel like I’m drowning and will never surface.

  “I’m going back to Chicago—alone.”

  “Darby—” He moves toward the bed.

  I scoot back, shaking my head. “Don’t.”

  “I’m dying—” His voice cracks and a single tear bleeds down his cheek. “Why can’t I touch you?” The pain in his face sucks a little more air out of my lungs … out of my life.

  “Because right now all I see is you with them. Threesomes! I see your hands on them, your lips on them. I see you fucking them!” I shake my head and wipe my tears. “You could have fucked a million women that wouldn’t have mattered, but instead you fucked the one that does … the one I can’t forget. I-I just … can’t … forget.”

  I know how much my words must hurt, and as much pain as I’m feeling, my intention isn’t to hurt him.

  “You’ll never know how sorry I am.” He turns, slamming the bedroom door behind him.

  *

  Except to use the bathroom, I don’t leave the bedroom until Tamsen gets home.

  “Hey.” She opens the door, holding up a sack. “I brought you dinner. Trick messaged me earlier and said you hadn’t eaten yet today.”

  I sit up, rubbing my eyes. “Thanks, but I’m not hungry.”

  She shuts the door and pulls the sandwich out of the bag, setting it on the nightstand. “But you still need to eat.”

  All I can do is stare at the ceiling.

  “Trick said you’re going home tomorrow.”

  “I am. You have work and I…” I shrug “…I need time.”

  Tamsen nods. “He loves you.”

  “I know.”

  “But it’s not enough?”

  I shake my head. “I wish it were. I know he didn’t lie to me. I know he had reservations about us because of his past. I tried to think of every scenario and if it would be a deal breaker, but this … this I could never have imagined.”

  “Is this a deal breaker?”

  I blink away the tears. “I don’t know. I love him; I will always love him. It’s not about forgiveness; I forgave him the moment the words fell from Rachel’s lips. That was a choice, but forgetting is not a choice. So the question is can I accept it and … I. Just. Don’t. Know.”

  “Whatever decision you make will be the right one.” She kisses the top of my head. “Now, I’ve got to go shove some food down your husb—Trick.” She gives me a sad smile. “He said he’s not hungry either.”

  “Tamsen,” I call as she opens the door. “It’s completely inadequate, but thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Chapter Fifty

  “You look like shit.”

  Sprawled out on the sofa, feeling a breath shy of dead, I stare at the ceiling. “Well then, at least I look better than I feel.”

  Tamsen lifts my feet, sitting down under them. “She needs time.”

  I nod. “And to think for years I wanted to remember. At least now when she leaves me, I’ll understand why.”

  “You don’t know that she’s leaving you.” She grabs my hand, giving it a squeeze.

  “You didn’t see her. She wouldn’t even let me touch her. It fucking guts me. She’s my wife, a room away and it feels like we’re not even on the same continent. The ocean between us is so deep, but I want to cross it … even if I die trying.”

  “You’re a strong person … one of the strongest I know. You will survive, no matter what.”

  “Tamsen…” I fight back the fucking emotions that feel like they’re stabbing my soul “…I don’t want to survive without her.”

  She stands then bends down, kissing my cheek. “I know, babe. But sometimes you do things you don’t want to … things you think you can’t, and those are the defining moments in your life.” She covers me with a blanket. “Night, sweetie.”

  “Night.”

  Today my friends stopped picking up after me. Grady offered to come to New York, but I told him I needed to do this alone. Tamsen listened, but she never tried to solve my problems or even offer false hope. I love the hell out of them for their ability to let me find my way, just as much as I’ve loved them for showing it to me.

  Tomorrow morning Darby will leave me. I don’t know if it’s temporary or permanent—to my heart it doesn’t matter. Every minute without her feels like a lifetime. I can’t let her leave without the memory of my touch … my hands on her … my lips on her … my heart next to hers. But I have no choice. I will never survive without this woman … my friend … my wife … my life.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Tamsen waits for me by the door as I sling my bags over my shoulder. The moment I look at Trick asleep on the couch, a river of tears breaches the bank. My friend has me in her arms in a heartbeat, her jacket absorbing my sobs. She hands me a wad of tissue and leads me out the door.

  “Goodbye, beautiful,” he whispers.

  We both still. Tamsen grabs my hand, giving it a tight squeeze. The reassurance and strength I need to not look back.

  We wait a few seconds. Nothing. And then we continue out the door, the sharp click of it shutting in the background.

  When we get to Tamsen’s car parked on the street, she grabs my bags and puts them in the trunk. As I open the passenger door, my heart stops, strangled by the grip on my arm.

  Trick stands before me in a pair of jeans and nothing else, eyes re
d like they’re bleeding with pain. Grabbing my head, he fists my hair and kisses me painfully hard—desperate, demanding, eternal. “I know you can’t forget, so if you’re going to remember something, remember this. You fucking own Every. Single. Piece. Of. Me.” His voice breaks, our mouths a breath away. “I love you. I live for you. I fucking breathe for you. That’s what you need to remember … only that.”

  Ugly, harrowing sobs rip through my throat as my heart feels like it’s rupturing in my chest. Turning, he walks to the door of the building without looking back.

  *

  It took everything I had to walk away, and even then I left so much behind. Trick’s not just my husband; somewhere along the way he became a part of me and I became part of him. I know he’ll always have that part. I can never get it back. There’s just two questions I need to figure out: Can I live without it? And do I want to?

  There is no one to blame for any of this. It’s like two cars crashing because they both merge to the center lane at the same time. It’s coincidence, an unfortunate circumstance—bad timing. But even when there’s no one to blame, there are still casualties.

  “Hey, Nana. It’s me.”

  She opens the door and without a single word or explanation of the past few days. She knows to hold out her arms to me. I fall apart in my safety net, and eventually, after many long emotional minutes, I tell her everything.

  She hands me some water and a cool washcloth for my puffy eyes.

  “What would you do?” I sniffle.

  She sits in her chair, folding her hands in her lap. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not Darby Roth and Trick is not my husband. This is your experience in life, my dear. Every woman has a place inside where she holds her truth. I think of it as our essence. It’s where we recognize our greatest love, our greatest hope, and our greatest fear. It’s where you’ll find your answer. You’re right. Forgiveness is not enough. But it’s a package deal. You can’t forget about Trick’s past any more than he can erase it. When you look at him, can you love all of him? Can you look past his scars?” She leans forward. “It’s not a test. This isn’t a measure of your love for him. It’s just a choice: left or right, chocolate or vanilla, ocean or mountain. But it has to be your choice.”