“So what? You were going to camp out on my porch until the storm passed?”
“No, just long enough until you finally decided to let me in,” he replied, all too smilingly.
Pulling the glass storm door open, I stepped aside and motioned for him to enter.
“You have any candles handy?”
“Yeah, there’s some in the kitchen cupboard, and we have the fireplace.”
Jack peeled off his blazer and I hung it up before heading back into the kitchen to find as many candles as possible. I handed him the first one I lit so that he could see by the hearth as he worked his magic.
“Let’s see if we can’t get you situated,” he said, rubbing his palms together merrily after setting the holder on the floor.
Golden hues burned through the family room as the flames smoldered inside the fireplace. Jack kicked back on the loveseat of the three-piece sectional sofa we had wrapped across the room.
“You want anything?” I asked, pointing back to the kitchen as I came over with another candle in hand. “Something to eat or drink?”
“Nah, I just want you to take a load off,” he said, patting the sofa beside him. “Join me.”
I set the candle down on the coffee table with a glass coaster underneath it to catch the melting wax that began puddling at the tip of the wick and parked a seat at the wedge in the corner of the sectional.
“Thank you.”
“No problem.”
“You know, you don’t have to stay. If you want to get back to the party, or your own house, I get it,” I said, pulling off my heels.
The truth was I didn’t know what to expect being alone with him.
He smiled. “Trying to get rid of me already?”
“No.”
“Well, even if that was the case, I’m afraid you’d still be stuck with me for at least a little while. The storm seems to be moving through fairly fast, but it’s not exactly driving conditions out there yet,” he said. “And the truth is, it’s nice to have some company this time of night. I’ve gotten so used to going home to an empty house.”
“It’s rather hard to believe that you really spend every night alone,” I remarked lightly.
“You know, I thought you of all people would be a bit more hesitant to buy into gossip.”
“I’ve seen enough for myself, thank you.”
“You mean my display on the football field?”
“Sans shirt? Yeah.”
“What makes you think that little presentation wasn’t meant just for you?”
I smirked. “Please, guys like you feed off affections like it’s your own life source.”
“There’s a big difference between a serial seducer and a mere Charlatan.”
“Aaahhh, so you’re just a tease,” I laughed.
“Well, it takes one to know one.”
My phone began vibrating, and I immediately snatched it out of my clutch to check the number. I deflated upon seeing Gwen’s number with a text message that read: “WHERE R U?”
“JACK GAVE ME A RIDE HOME,” I answered.
“WHAT?!”
I put the down phone away without further reply.
“Meyer?” asked Jack.
I nodded.
“She doesn’t like me much, does she?” he chuckled.
“You blame her after everything you’ve said?”
“I’m surprised there wasn’t more backlash, actually.”
“For the things you said in the locker room?”
“For starters. You can’t really say I was wrong though. I’ve seen her with Jeff. And Joe. And Ethan. And whoever else. She has a rather unhealthy infatuation with the opposite sex,” he chuckled. “Like a hummingbird that just can’t make up its mind with what flower it wants.”
I tossed a throw pillow at him laughingly. “You know, she wasn’t always like this. When I met her, she was dating a senior. Kevin Sanders. I guess they had been together for about a year or so, and she was... in all honesty, normal. You could tell she loved him, but she wasn’t nearly as-”
“Neurotic?”
“Well… yeah, actually,” I admitted. “That’s back when she and Stacy were best friends.”
Jack burst out laughing. “What?!”
“Yep, you heard me right.”
“Oh, I can only imagine where this is going,” said Jack, still chuckling at the revelation.
“Yeah, well, jealousy clearly got the better of Stacy, but the thing that Gwen can’t seem to understand about what happened is that it wasn’t anything to do with Kevin. It was just because Stacy saw how happy Gwen was, without needing her. So when the time for Prom came around the corner, Stacy started doing everything she could to sink her claws into Kevin. Things got really ugly, and eventually they just got stupid. The night before the dance, Gwen drove past Stacy’s house on her way home, only to see Kevin’s car in her driveway. She parked down the street and headed over to Stacy’s place on foot, finding Stacy and Kevin kissing in his car.”
“Ouch... and how did that go down?”
“Gwen was Gwen. She surprised the two of them by literally pulling Stacy out of the passenger seat, by her hair,” I said as Jack cringed at the thought. “Then when Kevin tried to explain that she came onto him, yada yada yada, Gwen gave him a solid shiner. Decked him right in the eye. Needless to say, she’s been trying to find someone more worthwhile since, but what starts as a promising beginning of flirtatious banter soon turns to suspicion or pure letdown. Then she moves onto someone new without remorse or time wasted.”
“And she criticizes me?” he laughed.
“She sees you as a threat.”
“To you?”
“To women.”
“What do you see me as?”
“Trouble,” I replied, “but on what level to perceive you as depends solely on the individual and how close she wants to get to you.”
“Meaning?”
“Well, it’s not the shark’s fault if you get bitten, because you were foolish enough to try and pet it. People in general think that they can play with danger and not reap the consequences of their actions, but I know better that distance is key with any Casanova, pretend or otherwise.”
“So I’m nothing but trouble, eh?”
“Perhaps a bit misunderstood as well.”
“What makes you say that?”
“By the things that Rachel and so many others have said about you...”
He winced before I even finished.
“... They were wrong. I know a thing or two about masquerading as something you’re not and not having the people around you see you for what you really are deep down.”
He looked at me pleasantly. “How so?”
“I didn’t always dress like this.”
“Like Little Red Riding Hood?” he joked.
“Like I just left a rock concert,” I corrected smilingly. “I always liked dressing a little edgier, but my mom was constantly pushing me to look more like my sister, cardigan sweaters and all. Time though ran its course, and with my dad’s approval, I started wearing what I wished. Bought a sewing machine. Did some vintage redesigning of my clothes. My closet eventually filled up with ripped jeans, concert tees, and spiked leather... everything.”
“You certainly are your father’s daughter.”
“That’s precisely what my mother thought, but not in a good way.”
“Well, I wouldn’t have you any other way.”
“You’d have me any way,” I joked, rising from my seat. I went over to the fireplace and used the iron poker to adjust the wood inside, feeling Jack’s presence coming up behind me.
“So you still find me insufferable?” he asked as I placed the poker back into the holder.
“You’re not so bad. Rough around the edges a tad, but not utterly unbearable,” I replied, turning to him.
His mouth tipped as he came in a little closer. “Would it be totally cliché right now if I kissed you?”
“Yeah.”
“All right.” H
e suddenly pulled away with a whimsical grin before I grabbed his arm and brought him back in. The spacing between his wet locks revealed enough skin on his forehead for me to see a long, dark, misshapen scarred line sloping down the whole right side to his temple. To my surprise, he didn’t retract when he saw me taking notice to it. I brushed all the hair from his face, seeing the scar in its entirety with the warm glow of the fire behind me.
“It’s from glass,” he said. “When my head smashed against the passenger side window in the accident, a large shard got lodged in my forehead.”
There was something about him in that moment. Something so tangible, broken, and long-standing.
“So, what am I, if not unbearable?” Jack asked, leaning closer into me.
“A beautiful disaster.”
Ever so gently, he brought his lips to mine, and I returned the action. No fireworks. No supernatural electrical pulses binding us together for eternity. Just the warmth and comfort of a tenderness I never thought he was capable of possessing. I hadn’t kissed someone else in nearly four years, and that was the only other time that I ever had, but nothing about Jack left me feeling inexperienced. It felt as natural as breathing.
I combed my fingers through the ends of his hair, and he slowly stepped forward until my back was resting against the brick siding of the fireplace. As his embrace around my hips tightened, the harder his kiss became. And that’s when every nerve in my body ignited. Jack’s hands trailed down my sides to my thighs, and I instinctively lifted my legs to wrap them around his waist as he picked me up so that our heights were matched.
His lips descended to my chin, then to my neck, and I had to fight off the impulse to moan. Just as my nails began to dig into his back, the electricity sparked back on, and with that, a light bulb from a nearby lamp burst.
Despite my sudden re-frazzled state, Jack didn’t look too concerned by the occurrence. He simply returned his attention to me. “You okay?”
“Yeah, my nerves are still shot is all,” I finally said with a weak chuckle.
“You want me to go?”
“No.”
He kissed my lips again, and comfort washed over me once more.
Then a floorboard in an upstairs bedroom creaked, which wasn’t uncommon given the houses age, but then the one beside it creaked as well. And another. And another.
Jack and I remained stock-still in place with the exception of him moving his mouth closer to my ear.
“I thought you said your dad wasn’t home,” he whispered.
“He’s not.”
Footsteps became audible as the sounds of the creaking floorboards moved their way into the upstairs hall.
“Listen to me carefully,” whispered Jack, reaching into his pocket to hand me the keys to the Impala. “Get to my car, and call the police.”
“What are you gonna do?” I asked softly as he released his hold on me to grab the fireplace poker.
“Just stay behind me,” he said, slowing creeping toward the mouth of the family room and into the kitchen.
I huddled as closely to him as I could as we inched our way past the landing to the staircase.
Suddenly, we both froze at the sight of a baleful figure looming over us from the top of the steps with a large blade in hand.
“Go!” Jack commanded, pushing me over to the side door.
I bolted over to it and unlatched the lock, twisting the knob with no luck. For the life of me, the door itself wouldn’t budge.
“Go!” Jack yelled again, still standing at the bottom of the stairs.
“It won’t open!”
“Front!”
Just as I raced past him again to head to the foyer, I heard a thunderous crash develop behind me. I whirled back around to see Jack pinned to the floor by the hooded assailant. Jack struggled to prevent the knife the stranger wielded over him from sinking into his chest as he wrestled to regain possession of the poker beside him with his other hand.
“Cassie, get out of here!”
I couldn’t. I grabbed my grandmother’s old Tiffany lamp from off the table in the entrance hall and brandished its heavy iron stand firmly in my hands. Racing back into the kitchen, I clocked the intruder in the side of the head as hard as I could, the glass of the lampshade shattering into a thousand pieces upon impact.
The attacker slumped sideways, giving Jack the chance to push his weight off to free himself.
“Go!” he said, rising to his feet.
I ran back to the foyer, but heard something smash. I turned to see Jack crumpled on his knees as fragments of a Scotch glass exploded across the kitchen floor. He clutched the side of his head as the assailant somehow rose up from behind him, standing over Jack as if ready to deliver his execution. Watching the attacker drive his hunting knife downward, I nearly yelped before Jack suddenly hammered his elbow back with sharp accuracy right into the stranger’s kneecap. Just as the figure staggered and dropped the knife, Jack reached under the bar stand and sprang up, pelting him in the face with a bottle of wine. I didn’t wait to see the reaction. I whirled back around and raced to the front, unlocking the deadbolts and unchaining the door. I ripped the main door open, but as hard as I tried to get through the storm door, it was stuck.
Looking through the window, I came to realize again that the door was jammed.
“You’ve got to be kidding me?!” I screamed, pounding my fists into the glass sheet at the sight of a tire iron shoved through the door’s handle from the outside.
“What are you waiting for?!” barked Jack.
“The door’s been wedged shut!”
The figure relentlessly pounced back up, and Jack snatched a pivot knife from the cutting board on the countertop, wielding it hammer style.
The attacker parried Jack’s next attempted strike, and with lightning reflexes, disarmed him of the blade by driving Jack hard into the wall beside the bar counter. Just as the assailant threw his elbow up, Jack averted the blow directed at his face by ducking down. Once he had his chance, he smacked his hands against the figure’s ear drums, causing the attacker to retract.
Grabbing the mail holder on the table in the foyer, I smashed the small side window next to the front door and stuck my hand outside to pry the iron out of the handle. Ripping it free, I went to pull the storm door open when I heard a loud snap from behind.
“Cassie, move!” cried out Jack as footsteps began trampling down the hallway towards me.
Without even turning, I leapt sideways, crashing into the living room carpet to see the attacker rushing at the door. He started to change his course of direction en route for me when Jack came bolting in from the kitchen, hooking his arms around the assailant with rocketing momentum before taking them both straight into the glass door in one swift motion.
They disappeared from sight, the sound of the impact blasting like a gunshot. I scrambled to my feet and charged into the doorway, seeing Jack exhaustedly pulling himself off the edge of the glass covered porch and running down to the street.
He looked around despondently, hunched over as he tried to catch his breath. “Damn it!”
“Where is he?!” I called out.
“Gone. Get back inside!” he demanded, heading back up to the house.
I closed and locked the main door immediately behind him.
“You okay?” he asked, looking me over.
“I’m okay, I’m okay,” I said, scrambling for the phone to call the police. “Hi, yes, my name’s Cassandra Foster. I live at 427 Avery Lane, and we just had a break-in. Someone just tried to attack my friend and me... We need paramedics.”
Jack looked back at me in alarm as I clicked the phone back on the hook switch.
“You said you were okay.”
“I am,” I said, grimly looking down at his left side.
“Oh...” he murmured weakly, seeing a considerable slice of glass protruding from his arm just a few inches down from his elbow.
“Don’t touch it,” I ordered. “You don’t know what th
at may have hit.”
“It’s okay. It really doesn’t hurt all that much. I’m fine,” he said with a feeble smile. “Apparently glass and I don’t mix well.”
I barely managed to chuckle, but as I did, tears began pouring down my cheeks.
“Hey, hey,” he said, wrapping his good arm around me. “It’s okay. We’re gonna be fine.”
Chapter 25
When the Levee Breaks
The street was ablaze with flashes of red and blue lights from the swarm of squad cars parked out front. Just as Benson began questioning me, my dad came running up to the driveway in hysterics.
“That’s my daughter!” he exclaimed to a cop who was refusing him passage.
“Let him through,” Officer Benson said, waving his hand forward.
“Jesus,” my dad cried, wrapping his arms around me so tight that it actually impaired my breathing. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?!”
“She’s perfectly fine,” assured Benson, “just as I said to you on the phone.”
“I’m fine,” I affirmed.
“The kid took a good beating though,” the officer said, pointing to the ambulance parked at the end of the driveway. “Be thankful he was here.”
“You’re gonna need stitches,” confirmed the paramedic to Jack as the three of us headed over to the ambulance.
“I can’t begin to thank you,” said my dad, shaking Jack’s hand.
“We’re gonna need to ask you both some more questions,” addressed another officer.
“Can you do it at the hospital? He needs to get patched up,” said the paramedic.
“Sure.”
My dad and Benson stepped away from the ambulance as I gave Jack a gentle hug.
“If it’s okay, can I stop by later to check in on you?” he said softly.
“Yeah, I’m probably gonna be at the bar though. I doubt that my dad’s gonna want to stay here tonight,” I replied.
“I’ll be there.”
“Ready to go?” called out the driver.
“Yep.”
“Miss! Miss! You can’t go in there without authorization!” shouted the two police officers stationed outside the Rockhouse.
“It’s okay,” confirmed my dad.
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