Then the guilt builds, residing in my stomach. I can’t betray my family. They’ve provided so much for me, given me love and genuinely want what’s best for me. It would be disrespectful and selfish to stomp all over their kindness because I’m in love with Jake.
“You know, dear, that constant look on you face will only deepen your wrinkles,” my mother says while cutting her chicken in her salad.
“And what look would that be, Mother?” I’m pushing around the cherry tomato in my salad, rolling it in dressing, without really feeling the desire to eat it. I don’t have the desire or drive to do anything but sulk. I morn my friends and I miss them dearly. She doesn’t understand it and I don’t think she ever will.
In my mother’s defense, she’s never had friends who haven’t been from her social circle. All of the friends she has are just like her, selfish and conceited. Maybe in her youth my mother may have had friends who weren’t like her, but as long as I’ve been alive, I’ve never seen her befriend or even be kind to someone who isn’t wealthy.
“I understand you liked Presley a lot, but she’s dead now. It’s time to move on with your life and quit the pouting. Granted, it is sad when you lose someone you care about, but there’s nothing you can do about it.” She takes a sip of her wine and then another. Something she does more and more. “Delilah, it’s time to move forward and think about your future.” The salad crunches in her mouth after she takes a bite. Her face is plastic and devoid of any emotion. God, who is this woman?
I slam my fork down on the table, angry with every second of this conversation. “I didn’t just lose Presley, Mother. I lost everyone in Sulfur Heights. They were all my friends.”
“Please! They’re a bunch of motherless delinquents, Delilah. Nothing but common gutter trash and you don’t need people like that in your life!” The vein in her forehead is beginning to protrude, and for the first time in years, my mother actually shows emotion.
The fake smile is gone from her face and has been replaced by anger toward my defiance. It’s been years since I’ve seen the real woman behind the mask.
I was beginning to think she was gone forever.
Collecting my anger, I reply as politely as possible, “Mother, I know you are only looking out for me, but please don’t talk about them like they are nothing.”
“Delilah, you’re a young, naïve woman who has a big heart.” She puts her fork down and reaches across the table, grabbing my hand. It feels good to have my mother comfort me, even if it’s for the wrong reasons. “But it’s people like them, like that Jake, who will feed on your kindness and take advantage of you every step of the way.”
The very mention of his name boils under my skin. She has no idea the kind of person Jake Evans is and he would never take advantage of me. It has been me who has destroyed him, destroyed his faith in people again. If anything, I was the person who took advantage of Jake; not the other way around.
I yank my hand from under hers and toss my napkin to the table. My chair scrapes loudly against the tile when I stand and say, “I’m leaving.”
I walk to the front door, leaving my mother alone to finish her wine and salad. When I reach the sidewalk, I begin to walk with no particular direction in mind. I need to clear my mind and erase any thoughts of Jake. He will always be in my memories, but in a couple of weeks, it will be Emerson who needs to be in my emotions.
Chapter 28
Jake
Jail is as I’ve always remembered. When I’m booked and put in my cell, nothing inside has changed.
At eighteen, I was locked up for the first time with a public intoxication charge then again when I was nineteen. The summer Mia was born was my last stint in jail.
This time I am sure a slap on the wrist won’t happen, though. Assault holds a multi-year sentence and assault on a police officer is even worse.
I’m only in jail a week, however, when Tom notifies me the DEA has agreed to drop the charges. Reggie’s lawyer, Tom Willington, is amazing at his job and has made a case of self-defense due to the aggressiveness of the police officers. They are willing to concede because they’ve gotten who they really came for, and that’s my twin brother.
I pull up to the prison, just outside of town and put the Challenger in park. Today Jeremy is finally able to have visitors, other than his lawyer, and I am the first in line to go to speak with him.
The entire family is baffled and upset by Jeremy’s choice to sell dope, but no one is more furious than Drake. The house has been a ticking time bomb, emotions are heavy and everyone is angry all the time. I’ve never heard Darcie and Reggie fight so much in my life and there have been a few fights so heated that Reggie chose to sleep at the bar instead of coming home to face her. We are all incredibly stressed out, not to mention hurt.
It took days to put the house back together after the DEA agents ransacked it as they looked for Jeremy’s stash.
Since the change in City Hall, the crackdown on crime has every residence on the Southside looking over their shoulders. Two years ago, the plea Carter has asked for would have gone unnoticed, but now, with the newest mayor in charge, it’s his ultimate goal to clean up and incarcerate any law-breaking citizens.
I exit the car and walk up to the entrance where guards line up along the sign-in window, and after a thirty minute wait, it’s my turn to check myself in at the desk and walk through the metal detector. Correctional officers wave a wand over the front and back of my body then usher me to another officer who gives visitors a pat down search.
I finally make it through the intense security and am placed in a room with glass dividers and phone receivers on each side. The bars clank open and my brother is escorted to his seat in front of me. It’s only been a few weeks, but Jeremy looks different—angry and rigid. He’s wearing an orange jumpsuit and his wrists remain cuffed when he picks up the receiver, wedging it between his shoulder and ear, waiting to hear my voice.
The anxiety in my gut slices me up one side and down the other when he finally speaks. “Hi.”
“How are you doing?” I ask, knowing it’s a stupid fucking question. Jeremy gives me his classic are-you-serious look then rolls his eyes. “Sorry. I’m just at a loss right now. I never thought I would be speaking to my twin through a glass wall.”
“Well, you are, so stop beating around the bush and start talking. We’ve only got twenty minutes.” Jeremy looks down at his cuffed hands and back up to my eyes. “How… how are things at home?”
I’m forced to think about how to answer his question. I’ve never been one to lie, and Lord knows I don’t sugarcoat anything, but I’m suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling to tell him everything is all right. He’s going to be in here for a while, and I don’t want to make it that much harder if I can help it. Telling him about the hatred living in our house won’t help shit.
“Wow, that bad, huh?” Like a fucking book. Jeremy knows me so well I can’t hide anything from him.
“Yeah, it could be better. What did the lawyer say?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“My sentencing is tomorrow and I’m facing a maximum of twenty years because the DEA found less than four hundred fifty grams of heroin and a small amount of cash.” Both of his handcuffed wrists rise as he rubs the top of his head and readjusts the phone receiver against his shoulder. “The prosecutors want me to make a deal and give up my connections for a lesser charge. They said I would only get a maximum of three years and the possibility of parole after eighteen months if I cut a deal.”
“And what did you say?” I ask a question again that I already know the answer to. Evans live by a code and we will never snitch our way out of something because we’re too big of a pussy to face the punishment we rightfully deserve. It’s a code Reggie lives by and has instilled in us when we started hustling our way up to the top.
“I told them to shove it up their ass. Tom told me they are pushing for the maximum punishment and it’s a good chance I will be spending at least ten years in p
rison, and that’s if I keep myself in the good graces of the prison authorities.”
“Fuck. Ten years? That’s too damn long, Jeremy. But what I want to know is why the hell did you start dealing?” I’ve been mulling over this question for weeks. It’s been keeping us up at night and it’s been the source of all the arguments in the house since his arrest.
“Because I wanted to get out.” It’s a selfish answer that makes me instantly get angry.
“Really? Why didn’t you just get in the fucking car and leave? Why put yourself through all this—put your fucking family through all this—if all you ever wanted to do was leave?” His response pisses me off, but it mostly hurts that my brother could be so selfish.
“You have to know it wasn’t my intention to get caught, and I was so close to having the money I needed to finally leave this shithole town behind. I was working on cutting the ties, but when Presley went to rehab, everything started going downhill, fast. Before I knew it, Carter was out of control and well… you know the rest.”
“You’re a selfish fucking bastard. Did you know who Presley was getting involved with when she started using?” I’m trying so hard not to scream into the phone or break out the glass with my fists so I can drive them into Jeremy’s face. I can’t believe I’m hearing this. I’ve spent the most time with him, but never once would I have suspected he has been dealing, and on the magnitude of supplier status.
“Selfish? That’s a load of shit coming from someone like you, brother.” His voice seethes when he speaks then he gets close to the glass, teeth gritted and voice laced with fury. “Do you even understand what I was doing?” I shake my head no.
“After Darcie was raped by Grady, I was done. I couldn’t take this place anymore. I was trying to get us out—all of us. I knew we had to leave, and fast. Hustling wasn’t bringing in the cash quick enough, so when Ronnie introduced me to his past time and how much money he was bringing in from his measly sales, I started in. Then I began to make a name for myself.
“Fast forward a couple of years, Carter, Ronnie and I became the largest heroin suppliers in Sulfur Heights and the surrounding communities, running a small group of street dealers. It didn’t take long for certain people to take notice and want to work with us.”
I lean my head down, overcome with the situation. On one hand, my brother put himself on the line to get us out of Sulfur Heights for good. He did this for all of us, but when I think about the risks he’s taken to make that money, I want to punch him. Nothing, not even our freedom from this place, is worth Jeremy going to jail for twenty fucking years.
Jeremy’s sad voice breaks up my thoughts when he continues, “I didn’t know about Presley until it was too late. Carter was very private about the people he had in his personal life—we all were. I finally put two and two together the night she overdosed. Believe me, had I known, I would have come clean then, but I didn’t and now I have to live with her death for the rest of my life.” He looks down at his hands resting on the plastic ledge then his eyes connect with mine, filled with unleashed tears.
“The night she died, I knew Carter was tripping off his own stash. I went to his place and confronted him about Presley, telling him to leave her alone. I should have known he was going to do something stupid, and before I could stop him, Carter pulled his gun.”
I can’t speak. Nothing is coming to my head because every thought rolling around in my mind is incoherent as I try to grasp the reality of what my brother has just said. He started selling drugs to make money, and when he got good at it, Jeremy formed a partnership with the devil himself. All of this could have been avoided. Presley’s death, the brokenness of my family, Reggie and Darcie’s stress, Drake and Jeremy’s relationship—every agonizing pain could have been avoided if Jeremy would have just come clean about knowing Carter and what he was doing with Presley.
I love my brother, God knows I do, but I don’t think Drake will ever feel the same again. Our family dynamic is gone, everything good has vanished, and in comes the shit hand we ultimately have been dealt the moment we were born and then raised by drug dealing parents.
Jeremy keeps his eyes planted to the metal gripping his wrists. “How’re Drake and Mia?”
“Drake is the same as when you last saw him.” There’s no sense beating around the bush. “And once Mia was released from child protection services, he calmed down somewhat.”
Jeremy’s eyes snap to mine, filled with remorse. “What?”
“The night we were arrested, CPS came in and took Mia, saying she lived in an unsafe environment. It took an act of God to keep Drake back when the police escorted the social worker from the house.” My gut aches when I think about them ripping Mia from his arms and Drake being detained by police, again.
“Reggie got on the phone with the social worker who helped him get custody of Presley and she worked with the state to get Mia released back to Drake full time. He will have to take random drug tests and the social worker will drop by with surprise visits to make sure Mia is being properly cared for.” I feel a lump the size of a baseball lodge in my throat. I clear it a few times to make it go down, but it does nothing.
“I’m not gonna lie to you, brother. Shit can’t possibly get worse for us at home. No one is happy and we fight all the time. It’s ugly.”
“What about Delilah? What’s she make of all this and you going to jail again?” Jeremy asks, trying to change the subject to a lighter topic, but little does he know this topic is just as heavy and gut wrenching as the others.
“She doesn’t know anything. I haven’t spoken to her since Presley’s funeral.”
“What happened?” Concern is written all over his face because Jeremy has gotten really close to Delilah through the last couple of years.
Like a pussy, I confide in my brother, aching to tell someone of my pain. “In a nutshell, we fucked, I told her I loved her and she basically said she didn’t, then left.”
“Jesus, yeah, you’re right. Life can’t get any worse for you and I’m sorry I put you and everyone else through all this shit, especially Drake.”
The guard comes up behind Jeremy and alerts him he has one more minute to speak with me. Just like that, twenty minutes has vanished rapidly as we say our goodbyes and he’s ushered back into the prison. Gone are the carefree days we’ve spent as kids swimming at the lake and the nights as adults we spent racing and hanging out—bonding as brothers.
Pain and loss take me over as I watch him disappear from my sight and vanish for the next twenty years.
Delilah
The days have quickly vanished since I left Jake Evans in that hotel room weeks ago and tomorrow I will be walking down the aisle, becoming Mrs. Emerson Knox. His name sounds foreign in my thoughts because I haven’t mustered up a single thought for Emerson since that horrible night. Jake has been in my mind twenty-four seven and I don’t know how to get him out.
When I was a kid, the only type of husband I dreamed about was a man exactly like Emerson, a man who’s responsible and put together. Never in my dreams would I have wanted to run away from everything I’ve ever known to spend the rest of my life with a tattooed jerk who’s single-handedly stolen my heart with one fateful glance. Then again, I’ve never wanted to slap someone as much as I wanted to slap Jake, either. All of this actually makes me really mad at him.
He wasn’t supposed to fall in love with me or anyone. He was only supposed to learn how to treat women better, not fall in love with the person responsible for opening his eyes to love.
There are days where I wish I never met him. The Delilah I’ve become would have never existed and I wouldn’t be sitting here thinking of a man I can never have the day before I say I do to another.
My mother and father have gotten me a suite at an upscale hotel for the night before my wedding. My bridesmaids are here for hours after the rehearsal dinner, though once midnight rolls around, I kick them out to get a few hours of peace to myself. Tomorrow, the preparations start early, an
d by four o’clock the doors at the church will open and I will be walking down the aisle with my father, turning my life over to Emerson.
As elegant as this room is, I don’t want to be here at all. I lie down on the giant bed and close my eyes. When I drift off to sleep, I dream of tattooed arms wrapped around my waist that are pressing me into his chest—finally at peace.
***
All American Nightmare comes blasting from my cell phone, startling me from the best sleep I’ve gotten in weeks. Without hesitating, I pick up the phone and stare at the picture of a carefree Jake. I debate on letting the call go to voicemail, but my craving to hear his voice gets the better of me, and I answer, waiting to hear his voice on the other end.
“Hello?”
“Hi.” Jake’s voice is very quiet and reminds me a lot of the night he told me Presley died. Something is weighing heavily on his mind and guilt builds because I haven’t been there to help him through it. Or maybe the source of his pain is still me. “Sorry it’s late, but I wanted to tell you Carter has been arrested.”
“Oh, thank God. When did he get arrested?”
“About a month ago. Carter pled guilty to involuntary manslaughter and got sentenced to ten years in prison.”
“That doesn’t seem very fitting for his crime. He should spend the rest of his life behind bars.” I’m angry. What he did is inexcusable. He’s torn a family apart, taken a mother from her baby and has changed the lives of all of us.
“How’s Drake taking all of this?”
Jake lets out another big sigh and remains quiet for a few moments. “Drake is angry. We all are.”
“Carter deserves worse. I understand why you’re so angry.”
“That’s part of it, but there’s more.” I can barely hear his voice. I know he’s debating what he wants to say. There’s an ache in my heart, knowing he can’t come to me anymore when he’s hurting. “Jeremy’s been arrested, too.”
Blind Love (Sulfur Heights Series) Page 28