She whipped her head around, struck numb. Charlie the playboy wanted to talk about something serious. This was serious.
“Fix what?” she asked, dumbfounded, stalling. She took a long drink of the Baileys and rum, relieved that it seemed to be offering her a quick, warm, merciful tingle.
Charlie, his tie removed and the top few buttons of his dress shirt loosened, sat at the edge of the bed, facing Jessie and obstructing her view of the flat screen TV. She reached around him and flipped off the power with the remote since it seemed pointless to listen to unseen babble. Jessie felt anxious but at the same time slightly relieved. It was about time they had a good chat. Maybe they could fix this, if they tried to work together. What she didn’t know was what Charlie had observed at the church during her singing. What she wasn’t aware of was his painful and final realization. He wanted to fix them, their life as a couple, yet he now felt it would be an impossible task. How do you compete with the kind of shared energy Jessie and Josh had discovered in each other? The hard truth is – you don’t.
“We’re getting married in just over a week, now. You – and me. Married. Knot tied. Kaput.”
“Kaput,” she echoed quietly, looking down at the drink in her hands.
“There are four hundred people coming to our wedding. Gifts have already started to arrive.”
“Yeah.” She circled the edge of the glass with her finger. Around and around.
“There are flowers, ice sculpture centerpieces, swans for the garden pond - we’ve hired Coldplay, for God’s sake!”
Charlie’s voice was starting to rise. The balance and control he’d managed to somehow hang onto all day was rapidly disintegrating. Jessie couldn’t look at him.
He stood, turned, and started pacing, running his hands through his hair as Jessie started to twist ringlets into hers. She sighed heavily, the weight of the discussion more than she could bear on this particular day, as much as she really did want to just get it over with. Maybe it would be more bearable than sinking into herself again and experiencing the Charlie Chill.
“Dee has put countless hours into planning this wedding. Charles has spent a fortune. I’ve spent a fortune!”
“Really, Charlie? Since when do you care about the money?” Jessie spat at him. She was surprised at her own volatility. But she was tired of bearing the brunt of his anger and, frankly, this had been a rather fucked-up week for both of them. The accusations and tempers were suddenly impossible to keep in check.
“I care about the money! I care about the goddamn money when it’s going down the tubes for no goddamn reason!”
She jumped off the bed and faced him, feet squared and eyes flaring, the Baileys dangerously close to swaying over the edge of the glass and onto the carpet like the salty, sandy ocean water she’d played with as a child at the beach, spilling over the top edge of her bright orange sand bucket.
“And why would it be going down the tubes, as you say, for no goddamn reason, Charlie?” Jessie was yelling now, something she rarely did, and she was startled by the sound of her voice, all pitchy and out of tune.
He stood and stared at her, pulling at his collar even though he had already loosened it.
In the room next door, Josh, having a post-mortem drink with Stephen and Carter, could hear a fight brewing, although he and the other two guys couldn’t make out any words. The three of them looked uncomfortably at each other, dumbstruck. Hadn’t the day drained enough emotion from the already exhausted Jessie? Charlie could be such an ass.
Charlie’s cheeks were burning. It was too late to stop now. He might as well plunge right in. “You fucking well know exactly why, Jess. Your fucking – video – is all over the goddamned internet.”
She was floored. Incredulous, it was everything she had in her not to toss the milky drink at Charlie. This man whom she was supposed to love chose one of the most vulnerable moments of her life to throw back at her like dirty garbage.
Jessie wasn’t speechless for long.
“You - bastard,” she wheezed. This, too, was new. She never fought back. She had not once in their entire almost eight years together called Charlie anything but his God given name. He could see the rage in her eyes. She saw the hurt in his. Were those tears welling there? The tables were turned, upside down and over again.
Dee had told her about the video. It wasn’t news, but Jessie had not watched it. She was sorry that Charlie did. But still…
He pointed a shaking finger at Jessie. “He was with you when you found Terri. He carried you into the hospital. He spent the night with you at some remote cabin. He’s here, for God’s sake! And those are just the times I know about!”
“Oh, so you’re allowed to go off and fuck whoever you like, let’s think about this, yes two or three at once, apparently, and I’m not allowed to spend time with a friend?” She was skating on thin ice, and she knew it. So did Charlie. Jessie took another drink, emptied the glass, and then set it on the nightstand with a loud thump.
“A friend? A friend, you call him?”
“What the hell else would he be? Look, I got involved with Josh months ago, I admit it, but it was quick and over before we could blink an eye, because of you, Charlie, because I was engaged and committed to you. Meanwhile, you’re out screwing women and ending up on the cover of the rag bags! So don’t look at me like I’m the one who’s out fucking around!”
“Fucking around? Fucking around?” With two slow deliberate steps Charlie accented his crude choice of words. They were nose to nose, both shaking, as the truth came out. Next door, the boys were on stand-by. If there was any sense of violence, any undue thuds or bangs, they’d be up in a second, and would smash down a certain door in Ashland’s small inn.
“Well, that’s the sting of it, isn’t it, Jessie? That’s the goddamned heartache of it.” Charlie stuck a finger in her chest and pointed it at her repeatedly, so that she took a step back with a small ouch. “You’re not doing what I did. You’re not fucking around.”
He couldn’t fight the tears anymore, and brushed the back of his hand over his eyes as the realization of what he was saying seemed to sink in to Jessie. She got it. She understood.
“Charlie,” she said, suddenly pained. But that was all. That was all she had left. She reached for him, but he grabbed her left hand and, his eyes never leaving hers, pulled off the diamond ring. He held it up to her, in front of her eyes where she could plainly see it, where the bedside light illuminated very clearly what they were both losing, and then he set it on the nightstand. It made a small dinging sound, which reminded Jessie of that line in the old Frank Capra film about angels getting their wings. Absently, she thought of Terri and wondered. Maybe somehow the dead teen was orchestrating this. Maybe she was earning her wings at the exact same time that Jessie was delivered her freedom.
“I’m sorry,” Charlie said gruffly. “But I’m not the kind of man to sit around and have my balls handed to me on a silver platter. I’m not stupid, Jessie.”
He turned and gathered up his few belongings, shoving them into his suitcase. Jessie planted her feet and stared. She had no idea what to do or how to react. Should she call him back? She hadn’t made love with Josh since their affair months ago. She and Charlie could still salvage the wedding. Sure, they could still salvage the wedding. But not the relationship. They’d been apart too long. It was irreparable. It was over.
Charlie paused at the door. He would remember this moment for the rest of his life – the moment he walked out on Jessie Wheeler just over a week before their wedding, on the day of her young friend’s funeral, at some chintzy country inn in small town Oregon. He turned and looked at Jessie, really looked at her, the way he hadn’t in years. She was standing there with tears slowly streaming down her face, her hands empty, her black slip sexy as hell and her bare toes still dirty from her walk on the trail at Jackie’s house. She had lost weight, she was tired, she was piqued and pale, and her hair was a cute disheveled mess.
Charlie had ne
ver loved her more.
With the exquisite, hopeless, soul-screaming agony of those who have loved and lost, he turned the doorknob and was gone.
Jessie sat back down on the bed and poured herself another stiff drink, a double this time. Oh God, she thought. Dee. The wedding.
A magnificent feeling of relief washed over her and she sat there on the tacky gold hotel duvet and got roaring drunk.
***
Next door, the girls had joined the guys but were immediately shushed as the voices in Charlie and Jessie’s room elevated in volume and temper. When the door slammed, Sue-Lyn’s obsequious nature made her the obvious peephole spy to see who had left. She turned and faced the others.
“Charlie,” she said matter-of-factly. “And he has a suitcase.”
The room fell silent. Josh held his breath.
“Guys, come on. Lots of couples have big fights before their weddings. It’s just nerves.” Maggie spoke first, to break the heavy weight of contemplation in the room.
Carter joined in, his usual hopeful self. “It has been a hell of a day.”
“A week,” retorted Stephen. “Actually.”
“Not even a week,” said Sue-Lyn, popping a breath mint into her mouth. “Although it feels like a friggin’ month.”
Josh was silent. He was worried about Jessie. It was awfully quiet next door. Maybe one of them should go grab Dee and get her to check in on their fellow cast mate.
Maggie jumped up from the bed first. “I need a drink. Let’s go to the bar.”
Josh was right behind her. He figured the inestimable Mrs. Keating might actually be down there enjoying a vodka or two of her own.
Surprisingly, Dee wasn’t at the bar, but Charlie was. In those first few moments of the beginning of his life without Jessie, his feet couldn’t quite make it to the door. He was just finishing a bourbon when the gang sauntered in. He turned and faced Josh, his shirttail un-tucked and his suit jacket slung over the back of his chair. But he didn’t want to fight. He had expended enough energy thinking about Josh and Jessie together, and it had done him in.
“Mr. Sawyer,” he said, as the others wondered what the hell he was doing there and what he wanted with Josh. Stephen, of course, knew. He stood a foot behind and beside his good friend.
“I have something to say to you,” Charlie continued. He pointed a finger. “And you better fucking listen.” He paused as Josh’s throat went dry and his heart jumped into his throat. He didn’t want a public altercation either. But suddenly he wanted to know exactly what that fight with Jessie was about.
Charlie went on, fire blazing from his eyes. His voice caught. “She’s the real deal, that one,” he said. “The real deal, you hear me? And you better not fuck it up, the way you fuck up everything else in your life, you hear? I fucking mean it, Sawyer. Don’t fuck it up.”
Charlie took a few steps backward and almost tripped over his suitcase as he grabbed his suit jacket. He shoved his hand into the pocket and pulled out the room’s card key, which he laid flat on the bar in a puddle of watery condensation. He grabbed his suitcase and turned back to Josh, who was standing there with the tips of his ears blazing hot pink, and his legs turning to Jello. Oh, so that’s what the fight was about.
Maggie jumped forward and grabbed Charlie’s arm. “Charlie, it’s been a fucked up week. Don’t do anything rash.”
He shook her off and strode away, unable to meet Josh’s eyes as he went by. It had been a fucked up week, all right. If he could get it back, in fact, he would undo a whole fucked up eight years. Do it right, this time. Or not, he thought as he remembered steamy nights in foreign hot tubs.
As a cab arrived and swifted Charlie away, Josh reached out and pocketed the room card key, wiping it on his black jeans first. He took a seat at the bar and ordered a ginger ale as Stephen slapped him gently on the back and Sue-Lyn and Maggie stared at him incredulously. After what seemed like long enough to determine that Charlie wasn’t imminently coming back, he went up to the third floor, begging fatigue after the long day. The others talked about him after he left, worrying that he was setting himself up to get hurt again, because they knew he was still an outcast, a guy who fought with his dad, who killed a kid on the motocross circuit, who spent at least three terms in rehab. In short, he was a loser. Although they knew different, Josh’s new friends - the world didn’t. There was no way anyone out there awaiting what would amount to be a star-studded wedding would accept Josh Sawyer as Jessie Wheeler’s man. Well, hell, they thought collectively. There is no way Charlie is going to let Jessie Wheeler go, anyway. Their hearts ached for Josh. This was gonna hurt. They prayed he had the sense to take a step back and let Jessie be.
Upstairs, Josh knocked quietly on the door before slipping in the card key. Jessie and Charlie had obviously had a terrible fight - that was clear. Dee wasn’t around. He rationalized that someone ought to check on Jessie and, after their time together at the little cabin up the hill from the Holy Oh Ranch, he honestly and truly was missing her. He knew it didn’t make sense but at this point he didn’t care. He told himself he just wanted to make sure she was okay.
A single bedside lamp dimly lit the room. The covers of the bed were slightly disheveled, but Jessie wasn’t in sight. For one brief moment Josh again had a terrible fear she’d done something stupid, but he heard a sound coming from the bathroom and so he padded towards that door. He found Jessie in the waterless bathtub wearing only her black full slip, with an empty glass of liquor dangling from her hand. She was sprawled out, dozing; one limp leg was hanging over the side, and the toilet seat was up, so he figured rightly that she’d been sick. She had hardly eaten a thing in days – and Baileys and rum, judging by the tipped over bottles he found on the floor of the bathroom, were not the best nutrition for an empty, tired belly.
Carefully, delicately, Josh reached down and tucked his strong arms under Jessie. She blinked sleepily up at him as he lifted her.
“Always the shining knight,” she murmured drowsily as he navigated his way out of the tiny bathroom to the bed.
“Someone has to take care of you,” he replied with a small smile, his heart dancing as it always did in her presence.
He laid her on the bed and took the glass from her hand. It was no easy task – she seemed to be hanging onto it as if it were the microphone at one of her concerts, or the last bit of gold from that pot at the end of the rainbow. As Josh set it down on the bedside table, he was stunned to see her engagement ring there. But he shoved it out of his mind – it was too soon to hope. He couldn’t imagine they’d called off the wedding. At this stage of the game, it was too big of an engine to suddenly halt.
He had laid Jessie on her back, and as he drew the gold coverlet over her, Josh could feel her sleepy eyes watching him. He sat by her side for a second and smoothed the wispy hairs from her forehead.
“Josh,” she said softly. “You know I have always loved you, right?”
He stopped moving, and the world stopped moving with him. Right then and there, all was quiet and sacred and right. And yet – still so frightening. When you love someone this much, someone who is supposed to be getting married to someone else in a very short time, you live in a place consumed by fear. Josh was in that place.
And yet –
He let his eyes drift over her, lying there all small and childlike and drunk. She wouldn’t even remember she’d said that, when she woke up in the morning and Charlie was back and they could go home, and move on from their difficult duties in this dismally hot town.
“Oh, God,” he said. And then Josh couldn’t fight it anymore, so he laid his head next to Jessie’s on the pillow and pulled her close. Regardless of what she would or would not remember in the morning, he would remember this forever. He cried there next to her as she smiled and drew him close too, and then she kissed him tenderly on the lips and drifted off to sleep.
Josh stayed with Jessie until the pink rays of dawn crept into the room and once more, for all its beauty an
d serenity, beckoned them harshly back up and into real life. He’d been afraid Charlie would make an appearance, and so he hadn’t slept well, but overall that didn’t trouble him, for Jessie was stunningly mystical in her sleep, lying amongst crumpled sheets with white moonlight caressing her sweet face.
He brushed his lips against her forehead before he left, lingering there for a moment, his warm breath a subtle beacon gently calling Jessie back to life.
“I’ve always loved you too, little one.”
As the delicate bump-click of the closing door separated them once more, Jessie’s eyes fluttered open and she wondered whether Josh’s precious presence in the room with her was but some wondrous dream.
***
Charlie did not return that night, or that morning, and so breakfast in the quaint dining room was quiet and undisturbed. Jessie and Josh resorted to their usual fare of not looking each other in the eye, which was even more pronounced after the tumultuous and heady events of the night before. Dee did not notice the missing ring until after breakfast as she, Charles and Jessie stepped into the elevator to head back upstairs and gather their things. She grabbed Jessie’s hand and held it up in front of her face in disbelief.
“Might this explain Charlie’s absence at breakfast this morning?”
Jessie curled up her fingers in response and looked away. Charles looked confused as he and Dee exchanged glances.
“I don’t know what’s happening, Dee,” Jessie finally said, to the elevator wall. “We had a fight last night. He left.”
Dee fought a rising panic, but quelled it. Jessie had finally eaten something at breakfast. She didn’t want to push her luck. She gave her girl a squeeze. “It’ll be fine,” she said. “Charlie will come to his senses.”
Silently, fuzzily, Jessie recalled looking up at Josh and baring her soul last night. She whispered a silent wish that perhaps Charlie had indeed already come to his senses, and then the elevator door dinged and opened and the little made-up family walked down the hallway to pack for home.
A Song For Josh, Drifters Book One Page 30