by J. L. Berg
“Right. That would have been wrong. Of course,” he said, coughing slightly. “This still doesn’t explain why you are resigning. I would think the old man would be happy to have his future son-in-law working for him. Or does he not like you? Did he catch you boning her? From behind?”
“What the fuck, Mark? Could you be serious and grown-up for two minutes? Fuck.”
“Sorry. Please continue.”
“Liv and her parents don’t get along. Things between them are…not going well at the present moment. I can’t put myself in the position of being in the middle.”
“So, you’re picking sides?”
“It’s not a matter of choosing,” I answered. “I will always choose her, no matter what.”
“Do you have anything lined up, man?” he asked, his voice actually sounding concerned.
“No, not yet. But I’m sure I can find something. I’ve got enough in the bank to hold me for a while.”
He nodded. “I’ll put out some feelers and write you a killer letter of recommendation, if that helps.”
“It does. Thanks.”
He stood, stretching out his hand across the desk. “I know I act like a jackass some of the time—well, most of the time, but I get it. I do. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for my wife and kids. Despite how much I joke around, they are my fucking world.”
“Thanks, Mark. Under all that asshat exterior, you’re not a bad guy.”
We shook, and I could see his grin appearing.
“Thanks, man. That means a lot.”
We said our good-byes, and Mark wished me luck.
I needed all the luck I could get because when Liv found out I quit my job for her, I would be a dead man.
~Jackson~
My foot bounced nervously as I stared out the window, counting down the seconds as they ticked by. The sleek lobby of the downtown law firm was well decorated and appointed just like all the others I’d sat in over the last two weeks while waiting to be called into interviews.
I tugged at my scarlet red tie, hating the way it felt tighter now that I’d gone a couple of weeks without them. It left me wondering if this little taste of freedom was a hint that I was supposed to be doing something bigger, something greater than sitting in an office every day for the rest of my life.
But if so, then what?
This was what I’d been trained to do, what I’d worked my ass off to accomplish. What else was there if I didn’t do exactly this?
I adjusted my tie again and pondered just how long the folks at Turner and McCollum Law firm were going to make me wait and sweat it out here.
Performance under pressure—I guessed this was my first test.
The alarm buzzed on my watch, notifying me of the time. It always beeped at this exact moment so I wouldn’t forget when the bus dropped off in front of our house. Noah always got off the bus at exactly a quarter past three every day, and he was expected to call me within five minutes without fail. This was our agreement, and so far, he’d adhered to it perfectly. I was amazed by his maturity and ability to handle himself. When I had been still working and would come home at night, I was surprised to find the house didn’t look like a train wreck. The dishes would be neatly stacked in the sink, and his homework would already have been completed and put away. It was eerie how well behaved he was.
Three minutes had passed, and I was starting to get restless. He knew this was my one condition of his staying home alone, and even though I’d been home for a few weeks, I knew he wouldn’t have forgotten.
Maybe the bus was late?
Another minute passed without a call.
I sent a quick text message to him, basically saying that he should call or he’d be grounded for life.
There was no reply.
I stared at my phone, willing it to ring, when the administrative assistant called for me.
Perfect.
I followed her back to the conference room, and several of the partners greeted me. They were all in their late forties with various shades of the same designer suit.
“Nice to finally meet you, Jackson. We’ve heard great things.” A tall, lanky man in a dark blue suit stood to greet me. “I’m Cal Turner.”
I nodded. “Thanks for taking the time. I appreciate it.”
We all took our seats around the sleek wooden table, and I casually leaned back as the assistant floated around, serving everyone coffee and water.
“Let’s get right to the point, Jackson. We like what we’ve heard, and we’d love to have you on our team,” Mr. Turner said.
I had been fed this line in practically every interview I’d been in. At first, I had been shocked and a bit flattered. Then, I’d heard the whispers and rumors that the relationship between my former employer and Senator Prescott was rocky at best since my departure, and he was possibly looking for new representation. Everything after that had started to make sense, and now, I was just extremely annoyed.
“Where have you heard this exactly?” I casually took a sip of my coffee.
The guy who seemed to be in charge, an overweight man who reminded me of a younger version of my father, spoke up, “Around.”
“Around where?” I pressed.
“Look”—he sighed—“you’re young and come with an excellent letter of recommendation. What more could we ask for?”
Right, because finding a job in a place like this was so damn easy.
I looked at the clock on the wall. Ten minutes had passed, and Noah hadn’t called.
I needed to wrap this up.
“You saw me in the paper?” I asked flatly.
“Perhaps, but that has little to do with our job offer,” he answered quickly.
I was not convinced. “While I’m flattered, I’m going to have to decline. I’ve already left one job because of how it interfered with my personal life. I will not be hired because of it either.”
“Jackson, please reconsider. Just take a look at our offer and sit on it. We’ll chat in a day or two.”
I was already rising from my chair. “I don’t think we have anything further to discuss. For the record, my relationship with Olivia Prescott does not give me access to the Senator, nor would I want it. In fact, if you want someone to suck up to the old man, I’d say I’m the last person you want on your team.”
I didn’t even give them the chance to respond. I had hoped this interview would be different—that perhaps I might be judged on my own personal merit, rather than what my personal life might be able to offer them. Apparently, like all the others before them, Turner and McCollum were just like everyone else.
Letting the doors swing behind me, I moved swiftly toward the elevator. I called Noah’s cell phone while I loosened the tie around my neck.
It rang and rang until his voice mail picked up, making my stomach churn in apprehension.
I called him once more, and again, he didn’t answer.
God only knew how long it would take me to get through traffic and make it back home. Entering another number into my phone, I waited until someone answered.
“Hey, it’s Jackson—is she busy?” I asked Liv’s receptionist.
“No,” she answered. “She just finished up with a client. Let me get her.”
I tried not to call Liv’s cell during office hours. She tended to leave the ringer on, and I wouldn’t want to distract her if she were in the middle of a session.
I was unlocking my car by the time Liv picked up.
“Hey,” she said, her voice coming through loud and clear.
“Hey,” I answered. “Can you do me a favor?”
“Sure, what’s up? You sound worried. Did your interview go bad?”
“Yes, but that’s not why I’m calling.”
“Oh God, did they offer you another job? Shame on them. How dare these people keep throwing all this money at you,” she mocked.
“Liv,” I stressed, my voice alerting her that something was wrong, “Noah’s not answering his phone.”
; “How many times did you try it?”
“Twice, plus a text. He should have gotten off the bus almost half an hour ago.”
She paused for a moment before answering, “I’m leaving now. I’ll call you when I get there.”
“Thanks, sweetheart.”
“I’m sure he’s fine,” she said.
I thought she was trying to assure herself more than anything.
“Let me know when you get there.”
“Okay.”
Ten minutes later, as I was speeding down the road, I got the phone call.
“Hey, is he okay? How many weeks do you think I should ground him?” I said, a hint of nervous laughter following.
“Jackson,” she said, her voice panicked and hoarse, “he’s not here.”
~Liv~
“What do you mean, he’s not there?” Jackson’s horrified voice echoed through the phone.
“The door was unlocked, Jackson. He was here at some point. I came in and called out for him—”
“Maybe he’s upstairs,” he interjected, his voice becoming more and more panicked by the second.
“I already checked.”
“What about a note? Maybe he went for a walk?”
“There isn’t a note. Jackson, his phone is here.”
Silence.
“He left his phone?”
“Yes, and his backpack.”
“I’ll be home in a minute.”
The phone went dead, and he was gone. I looked around the empty house. My heart pulsating and my ears roaring from the rush of adrenaline and absolute terror,
What should we do first? I asked myself, trying to remain calm when it was absolutely the last thing I wanted to do.
Check his phone.
I ran over to where his backpack and phone were lying on the kitchen table. It was as if he’d left in a hurry. I didn’t know if that was good or bad, but I tried to stay focused.
I began searching through emails, contacts, and text messages.
Nothing stuck out.
I saw random messages with friends and a bunch of emails about schoolwork, but nothing shouted, Calm down. This is where I am right now!
The door burst open, and I turned to find Jackson rushing toward me.
“I searched his phone.” My last bit of resolve began to fade as tears dribbled down my cheeks. “Where is he, Jackson? Where did he go?”
“I don’t know,” he answered, pulling me into a tight hug.
“Let’s go check with the neighbors,” he suggested, squeezing me tightly.
Hand in hand, we walked next door to the other side of Jackson’s house. A young family lived there, and the mother was usually home with two toddlers during the day—but not today. We saw her unpacking groceries from her car, and she waved at us.
She’d been out all day.
Most of the other neighbors worked during the day, so as far as we knew, Noah had disappeared.
There was only one thing left to do—call the police.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Jackson said, holding the phone up to his ear. Shaky fingers ran through his hair as he waited for someone to pick up.
Everything moved quickly after that. Police officers were at the house within a matter of minutes. Statements were taken, and an AMBER Alert was issued.
When my phone went berserk, notifying me of the alert, I finally broke.
When I saw Noah’s physical description and last known whereabouts flashing across my screen, not knowing if he was safe or hurt, I couldn’t breathe.
The police officers kept the media at bay. After several hours, things settled, and we were told to try to get some rest.
I looked up at what was left of the man I loved, and I wondered, Who could possibly rest when his entire world is crumbling?
The house grew quiet, too quiet, once again.
I watched the sun set across the street, and I questioned where Noah could be. Was he fed? Was he cold? Oh God, had he been hurt?
Just then, Noah’s phone rang.
Both Jackson and I looked at each other.
“Do you think it’s maybe one of his friends?” I asked.
“I don’t know, but I’m answering it.”
Jackson pressed down the call button and held the phone to his ear.
His eyes went wide in shock and horror as he whispered one word, “Natalie.”
~Jackson~
I recognized her voice in an instant, that cold, raspy resonance coiling around my eardrums like a snake. It was a sound I would never forget.
“Jackson,” she purred, “it’s been far too long.”
“Where is he?” I demanded, feeling my fists tighten.
“He’s gotten so big. My, how the years have flown by.”
“Damn it, Natalie! Where the fuck is he?” I shouted, banging my fist down hard on the wooden table.
Liv’s loving touch wrapped around me, her fingers clutching my bicep.
“Now, let’s be civil, Jackson,” Natalie said, laughter pulsating through every frustrating word.
“Civil? You kidnapped my child!”
“Ours,” she hissed. “Or did your new girlfriend suddenly make you forget who gave birth to him?”
I turned, looking over my shoulder to find Liv. Her eyes were filled with agony. She’d heard every word. Changing it to speakerphone, I hissed, “He stopped being yours the day you walked out of our lives, remember?”
Her cold, heartless voice filled the room. “I remember you giving me a tiny-ass diamond ring while we lived in a shoebox of an apartment, only to find out you had a fortune sitting in the bank. You obviously didn’t love me and Noah enough to provide for us the way we deserved.”
“You mean, the way you expected? That money was for law school, for a down payment on a home, for our future. I told you that, but you could never see beyond your own immediate needs.”
She laughed. It was a harsh sound filled with bitterness and contempt. “You’re right about one thing. Back then, I thought that I was leaving because I wasn’t ready to be a mother and that I was somehow doing both of you a favor. But I’ve grown since then. I’ve really come into my own skin, you could say, and there’s one thing I’ve realized about myself along the way, Jackson.”
“You’re a coldhearted bitch?”
A breathy giggle filled the airwaves. “I will always come first.”
As my nails continued to dig half moons into my palm, I decided I was done with reunions. I was done with listening to this woman talk about the past and her need for vengeance or whatever maniacal plan she’d set into motion.
I only wanted my son back.
“Natalie, where is Noah?” I asked, my voice eerily calm and determined.
“Don’t you watch the movies, Jackson dear? I’m not just going to hand him back over without getting something in return. This is an exchange.”
“Is he safe?” Liv spoke up, her voice desperate, as tears fell down her face.
“Oh, so the Senator’s daughter is there with you?”
My eyes locked with Liv’s, and I saw the moment it clicked, the moment Liv realized how Natalie had found us—the newspaper article.
“Really moving up in the world, aren’t you, baby?” Natalie said.
I shook my head, holding Liv as she struggled not to fall apart. None of this was her fault. If the blame belonged to anyone, it was mine. I’d fallen for the wrong woman. I hadn’t known Natalie would someday pull something like this.
“Don’t call me that,” I hissed.
“When I saw your face plastered all over the newspapers, I was shocked. I didn’t think it was possible, but you’ve gotten even more attractive over the years. Too bad I didn’t stick around longer.”
Blood dripped down my hand as I broke through the tender skin of my palm.
“Please just tell us he’s safe,” Liv begged.
“He’s safe. He doesn’t even really know what’s going on. For all those years of telling him what a horrible pe
rson his mother was, he sure seemed eager to leave with me. I’d expected him to put up a fight, but he happily said yes to my proposal for ice cream. We’ve been hanging out ever since.”
“I never told him you were a horrible person,” I said softly, shaking my head back and forth, regretting every single instance I’d tried to paint her in a better light for the sake of my son. Pictures, stories and the few mementos I had left of her was all given to him in hopes he would at least have something of the woman who gave him life.
I’d tried to be the better person. And now, it had cost me everything.
“Well, I guess that was your ultimate mistake.”
“What. Do. You. Want?” I asked again, punctuating every word.
“Two things actually. First, you’re going to call off that pesky AMBER Alert. It makes getting out of the country a little difficult. Second, I want money—lots of it. Around a million should do it.”
“Didn’t get enough the first time around?” I seethed.
“Always room for improvement. Plus, with your new love interest, I figured it shouldn’t be too hard for you now.”
That was what this was really about.
She’d seen Liv and me with her father, the wealthy Senator, and immediately thought of money. The press was still under the impression that all was well with the Prescott family. His camp had managed to keep everything under wraps, and to the outside world, Liv and her father were riding unicorns and skating on rainbows together. So, naturally, Liv would have access to mounds of cash.
God, what a clusterfuck.
“I don’t have that kind of cash,” Liv said.
“I’m sure you’ll figure something out, Miss Prescott. I’ll call back in the morning, Jackson. Get rid of the AMBER alert. Otherwise, Noah and I might be going on an extended vacation. It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other. A son really should know his mother, don’t you think? Perhaps a little trip is exactly what we need.”
“You fucking bitch!” I yelled.
The phone went dead.
I screamed out in frustration, every molecule in my body crying out in anger for my son. Falling to my knees, my cries turned into heaving sobs that tore through my entire body. I struggled to breathe from the sheer force of my internal torture.