by Tracey Ward
Jenna gasped audibly. “Kellen—“
“I know,” I said, cutting her off before she could say it. I wanted to rip the cap off my head, the hair from my scalp, and beat the shape from my face. From my nose and my chin. I wanted none of it, not now that I knew for sure where it’d all come from. Now that I knew it was fruit of a poisoned tree. “I look exactly like him,” I seethed quietly.
She didn’t say anything. Instead, she laid her hand on top of mine and left it there, warm and soft. Gentle.
“Maybe he’ll lose,” she said quietly. “Big. Maybe you’ll get to sit here and watch as thousands and thousands of dollars slip through his fingertips. As he squirms in his seat and his women turn cold, warming up to the winner across the table, and won’t that make you feel just a little bit better?”
I allowed a small grin. “Maybe.”
“Then we’ll stay,” she said squeezing my hand before letting it go. “We’ll watch and we’ll hope like hell that Kurtis Matthews kicks his ass.”
I turned to her, looking into her dancing gray eyes and savoring the wicked smirk on her sweet mouth. I couldn’t stop myself. I leaned in and kissed her softly, slowly, tasting the delicious flavor of her light and letting it burn away the angry bitterness on my tongue.
I pulled away, then returned for one last quick taste. “I love you, Nonpareil,” I whispered almost silently.
Jenna smiled. “I love you too, Kellen.”
“Here we go!” the burly man on the other side of Jenna called excitedly.
The room erupted in cheers as the last of the contenders took their place at the table, Barkley Thorp included, and I resigned myself to the fact that this was happening.
I was in the same state, same city, same room as my dad. I had the same hair, the same nose, the same chin and chest and arms and cheeks. We were cut from the same mold, and suddenly for the first time in my life I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to know the whys of what he did, of what my mom did. The whys of how my life turned out the way it did, but most of all I wanted to find out what was underneath everything that looked so familiar to me. Under the face that mimicked mine, under the hate I’d buried him under.
For the first time in my life I wanted to know the man behind the mask.
Chapter Thirty
Kellen
He won. My dad took the purse, shook hands with the losers and joked with the stars like they were old friends. Once his job was finished, though, he immediately searched the emptying stands.
I didn’t run and I didn’t hide. Instead I tipped my hat back on my head until my face was exposed, and as the lights came up in the room and the cameras were packed away, our eyes met. They were the only thing different about us. The only thing I’d taken from my mom instead of him. While mine were a dark blue his were a rich green tinged with brown. Earthy and honest looking, but I knew he was a liar. It was his job. It was his way.
“Kellen,” he called up to the stands.
I stood, stuffing my hands in my pockets to still them. “Dad,” I answered, the word foreign on my tongue.
He smiled and I wanted to scream because of how disarming it was. How real. He was genuinely excited to see me, his face beaming as he walked up the steps toward us. I felt Jenna stand next to me and when he took notice of her his face changed slightly. It softened the way the world did in her presence. He greeted her first, offering her his hand and thanking her again for bringing me to the event. She said something I didn’t hear, things I’d never remember, and then he was looking at me. Smiling at me.
It was my smile. The one Jenna loved. The one I used too sparingly.
It looked like he used it without compulsion, doling it out like candy and air.
“Kellen,” he repeated reverently. “It’s so good to finally meet you.”
I swallowed hard, my hands balled into fists in my pockets. “Congratulations on the win.”
“Thank you. Thanks, so—Kellen. I understand you have a boxing match tomorrow? I’d love to come watch if that’s alright?”
“It’s open to the public.”
His smile fluttered, threatening to fade.
“I’ll text you the information,” Jenna promised. “The where and the when.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Barkley looked to me again. Jenna looked at the floor. Both got the same amount of reaction from their subject. “Have you eaten dinner?”
“No,” I answered.
“Are you hungry?”
“No.”
“Alright. Do you want to get a drink? There’s a bar in this hotel with an incredible DJ.”
“No.”
Barkley put his lips together in a tight, straight line, the warmth in his eyes fading. “If you were going to stonewall me maybe you should have saved us all the time and trouble and not contacted me in the first place.”
I stared at him blankly, feeling trapped; mired by so many emotions that I couldn’t begin to sort them under the murky surface. I wasn’t angry or sad. Not happy or relieved to finally meet him. I was something else, something strange and muddled and it caged me. It backed me into a corner I didn’t know how to get out of or even if I wanted out.
Barkley sighed, turning his back. I thought he would leave. He’d walk away and I’d never talk to him again, never wade into these swampy waters, but instead of leaving he took up one of the metal chairs behind him, spun it around to face me, and sat down. He motioned for us to do the same.
Jenna sat down immediately. I didn’t follow suit until she tugged lightly on my arm.
“We don’t have to go anywhere,” he explained. “We don’t have to pretend. Personally, I like a little candor. My job is pretty smoke and mirrors so straightforward will be refreshing.” He spread his hands openly. “Ask me anything you want. I’ll answer every question. I’ve wanted to talk to you your whole life. I’ll talk about rubber bands if that’s what you’re into.”
“Do you really own the Tampa Bay Rays?” I blurted out, putting voice to the first foolish thing that popped into my head.
He grinned. “Not exclusively. Me and six other guys own the team. I’m not even the majority owner.”
“How can you afford to send me the money you do every month?”
“It wasn’t easy to start. I didn’t have my finances as sorted back then as I do now, but these days it’s not a problem. I’ve made a lot of money in tournaments. Honestly, I’ve made more at private tables, but don’t tell Uncle Sam that. I get invited to sit in with whales; guys with more money than you can imagine. I don’t go easy on them. I take all the money from them I can because that’s how I play. To win. For some reason they like me, even when they’re losing to me. When I was younger I offered them tips on gambling and they offered me tips on stocks. Big trades that could wipe me out if I took a chance on them, but I didn’t hesitate. Gambler’s blood, I guess. It runs cold. Every time you sit down at a table you have to consider your money already lost. You’re playing for nothing. Every hand is the same. You keep it calm. You keep your cool and you stand to make a lot of money. The stock market is the same way. It was a good fit for me. What I send to you, it’s a large portion of the interest earned on one of my savings accounts.”
I nodded distractedly, barely listening. My blood hummed in my veins, my ears buzzing wildly.
Barkley glanced between Jenna and I, spreading his hands again. “Anything else? Honestly, anything. I’ll—“
“Why did my mom hate you?” I spit out.
There it was. The center of my universe. The crux of my pain and suffering, my doubt and fear. The greatest ‘why’ in my entire life that had set the rest of the events into motion that would nearly destroy me. This was the answer to everything, but most importantly it was my mom’s salvation. Her restoration in my eyes. This single, solitary ‘why.’
“I don’t know,” Barkley told me plainly. His face fell, the first negative emotion he’d shown since I saw him walk into this ro
om. “I wish I understood it but I don’t. Not a hundred percent.”
I stared at him, stone still. Frozen as a block of ice.
“You don’t know?” I asked, nearly whispering.
Jenna sat forward, catching his eye. “What part do you understand? You said you don’t understand one hundred percent, but what of it do you know?”
“She was looking for something I couldn’t give her,” he explained to Jenna. “We were young and she was lonely. I was fun. She needed that and I liked her a lot. Madeline, she was a wonderful woman. Smart, funny, sexy; the whole package. But what she wanted from me… I couldn’t give her.”
“You couldn’t love her,” I spat.
Barkley sighed, his shoulders sagging. “I’m not a bad guy, Kellen, but I’m not the guy, do you know what I mean?”
I shook my head stiffly.
“You’re not a leading man,” Jenna offered.
Barkley’s eyes lit up and he pointed at her gratefully. “Yes, exactly. Yeah. I’m not the guy who falls in love with the right girl and changes his ways, settles down, and makes a family. That’s not me. I got kicked out of my own family for refusing to settle down and quit the gambling, and that’s what Madeline wanted too. My parents gave up on me. Cut me off and kicked me out. Maddie was a lot of fun and I loved being with her but I didn’t love her. Not like she wanted me to. I thought she understood that, but when you were born I think she hoped I’d fall in love with her and you and everything, but I didn’t. I held you and nothing in me changed for us.”
“You held me?” I asked roughly.
He nodded faintly. “Yeah. I was there at the hospital when you were born. I was with her. I didn’t abandon her, is what I’m trying to tell you. I went to every doctor visit. I made sure she was comfortable. I offered to help get her a place of her own, get her out of that dank little apartment, but she wouldn’t take it.”
“You didn’t offer to have her move in with you?”
“No,” he replied unapologetically. “I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to be tied down to anyone, not even Maddie. It wasn’t what I was looking for and I didn’t want to lie to her about that. If I’d committed to her I’d have cheated on her, I know that for a fact. I knew it then. It’s why I never made that promise. But you, it wasn’t like that with you. Not in my mind. I could separate you, my kid, from Maddie and I. When you were born on that day-“
“Your lucky number.”
He smiled. “Double eights. And you were eight months. You came early. Born eight pounds seven ounces on August 8th. It was like a sign from God. My number kept coming up and I felt so relieved when you were born. I thought everything was going to work out fine. Like I said, I was in the hospital room when you were born. Maddie held you then they handed you to me and I think she expected that to be the moment. She wanted that to change my mind about her and us, and it didn’t and so she kicked me out. Out of the hospital, out of her life, out of yours. It blindsided me. I was furious. Just because I couldn’t be what she wanted me to be for her she wouldn’t let me be anything to you. That hurt. You’re my blood and she took you from me. She hid you. I’ve never gotten over that. I’ve wondered about you every day of your life.”
“When did you start giving her the money?” I asked, my stomach churning.
“The money, yeah. I left the day you were born and I was pissed but I gave it a couple days. Once she was out of the hospital and back in the apartment I came around, hoping she’d listen to reason. She was pissed but she agreed to hear me out. She wouldn’t let me in but she listened at least. I told her I had set up an account in both your names and I was going to make deposits to it every month. I explained I wanted to help, that I wanted to be in your life, but she told me no. She hadn’t changed her mind. She took the account information and said she’d never touch it but that she’d tell you about it when you were grown. That you could make your own decisions about it and me. Then she slammed the door in my face and I never saw her again. The only time I ever saw you was that first day in the hospital.” He grinned shakily, unsure. “And now. Today.”
“Dan said she told you she was leaving Nevada.”
“She did.”
“Why didn’t you keep track of us? If you wanted to know me so bad why didn’t you show up when she died?”
“Because she told me she was moving, gave me a fake address in Chicago, and I lost track of you. My name was never added to your birth certificate so when she died and I didn’t know about it there was no way for anyone to find me. You didn’t know my name because she never told you. I wasn’t on any records. She cut ties with everyone she knew in Vegas when she left. The only connection I had to you was that bank account and I watched it like a hawk. I kept waiting for one of you to draw on it and tell me where you were but it never happened.
“I got worried when years went by and I hadn’t heard about either of you. I started looking for you. I hired a private investigator but he didn’t find anything. No one knew where your mom disappeared to and later I found out that she used a different name on the hospital forms. She used Coulter, her dad’s name. When I knew her she was using the last name Bardes, her mom’s name. That’s why I never found you either. I was looking for a Kellen Bardes. Then when you were seventeen my guy finally found you when you popped up in California on a police report for a fight on the beach. He saw the first name, saw your mugshot, and he said I looked just like you. Maddie was always talking about the ocean in Ireland and when I saw your mug shot it was like looking in a mirror. I knew it was you. I knew where you’d gone and how to find you, finally. I got in touch with your lawyer and asked him to tell you about me. I’ve been waiting for you to be ready to see me ever since.”
“That’s almost ten years,” Jenna whispered, her voice jagged.
He grimaced slightly. “I’m a patient guy.”
“Kellen,” she said gently, looking at me with concern. “Are you okay?”
I stared at the floor, memorizing the pattern that swirled and twisted in hideous colors the shade of dirt and stains because that’s what they were there for. To hide the dirt. They absorbed the ugly inside the ugly and hid it from view so you had no idea how disgusting your world really was.
“You’re telling me,” I began quietly, “that the reason I ended up in foster care, the reason I took beating after beating again and again—“
Barkley sat up straight in his seat. “You did what?”
“—is all because my mom was mad at you for not marrying her? A grudge she held onto for eight fucking years and took with her to the grave.”
“What beatings?” Barkley demanded. “What are you talking about?”
I stood slowly, running my hand over the back of my neck. “I have to go. Thank you for the answers.”
“Kellen,” Jenna began, standing to come after me.
I held up my hand, warding her off. “Please don’t, Jen. I’m not—I’m not running. I promise. I need to get some air. I need to think. I need to do it alone.” I looked to Barkley. “Will you make sure she gets back to the hotel okay? Maybe she’ll take you up on dinner. She’s nicer than I am.”
“I’ll get her home safely,” he promised, his eyes tight with worry and anger and something else softer that I didn’t understand. Something that reminded me of Dan.
“Good. Thanks.”
“Be careful,” Jenna pleaded.
I stopped, taking in the worried crease between her eyes. “When I asked you to marry me, what’d I promise you?”
“That you’d always come home.”
“And I meant it.”
“And I mean it,” she countered sternly. “Be careful.”
“Always.”
I left the room. I left the casino and The Strip. I walked farther into the actual city, to the back roads where the alleys were darker. Where the buildings had lost their shine. I went where they had bars on windows and the smell of desperation permeated the air the way the smell of sex and money rolled through the
casinos on The Strip. I found the place where the people lived, the cogs in the machine that kept this gilded city glowing. I found it because I knew it. I remembered it and I’d lived it. I went back not knowing what I was looking for. I didn’t want any more answers. I’d gotten all I could handle. I went searching for something else. Something impossible and unattainable. I breathed the desperation and I filled my lungs with it, burned my eyes, and when I came to stand in front of the cracked and faded door I’d passed through a thousand times as a child, I stared at the old, rusted number with a new sense of understanding. A feeling of foreboding that belonged to the past. That had already come and gone, just like her.
The number on the door in this town of odds and luck and superstition more deeply engrained in the ground than you’ll find in the voodoo centers of Louisiana, read #13.
Chapter Thirty-One
Jenna
Kellen came home late that night. Long after I’d eaten a cordial dinner with his dad. Long after I’d showered and read and watched TV – anything to pass the time. It was hours after I gave up and turned the lights down. It was only hours to daylight when he walked in quiet as Death himself and stripped down in the dark. I heard him but I didn’t move. I let him have what he needed and if distance was it, than it was what he’d get because he hadn’t lied to me. He ran but he came home. He was here. He was safe.
He was pulling on my shoulder. He was turning me over. He was spreading my legs with his, pulling my shirt over my head, my shorts down my legs, threading his fingers through my hair. He was kissing my neck. Lowering his hips. Pressing, pushing, sliding slowly inside as my back bowed on the bed and I struggled to breathe.
He was so meticulous the way he loved me. So painfully slow, like we had all the time in the world. Like dawn would never come and this night was all we knew, all we’d ever know, and my body, my arms, my skin, were the only home he had.
Like I was the only truth he trusted.