by Aven Jayce
“What the fuck? He said...” I pause again, unable to spit out the words. My mind’s a mess, turned into one of those bingo machines and all the balls are being spun around while someone turns the crank, and then one ball comes out, only for myself, it’s one word. “He... where... I...” And then I finally get a full sentence out. “He knew what my wife bought when she went shopping the afternoon of David’s death.”
“What time was that?” my father asks.
“Maybe two, or three,” I say.
“Yes, that’s possible. He left the airport at one.” The Detective wipes the front window free of fog with the sleeve of his coat as he speaks. “The Scarlett’s humid tonight and the cold air moving in can make ya feel down in the dumps, don’t you think? I mean, it’s gloomy weather again, isn’t it?”
What an ass, and I can tell by the expression on his face that he knows if he doesn’t put a lid on it, I’ll do it for him. Luckily, his cell saves him from making an even bigger fool out of himself. He walks over to the bar to take the call while the last witness finishes her statement and walks out of the Scarlett.
“She’ll be okay, Cove.” My father delivers one last squeeze before releasing his grip. “If anything, Marcus better watch himself. Sophia’s not going to take being pushed around, and when she takes a swing he’s not going to know what hit him.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Detective Ferguson snaps his fingers to get the attention of the officers in the room. They gather around the bar and wait for him to end his call. He says, “no shit,” a number of times before placing the cell on his shoulder and telling everyone, “They found ‘em. Pack up. Sarge will send out an update with the information in a sec.”
“My wife?” I stand. “Is she alright? Where is she?” My father holds me back until the Detective’s off the line. “What the hell’s going on?” I demand an answer.
The officers disappear one by one out the door and into the steady rain. I start to panic. My heart pumps with wild force as I look at my watch with irritation. It’s been close to an hour and anything could’ve happened in that time. Please, God, let her be okay.
My father puts his hand on my shoulder as the Detective approaches, and my mother stands to the side with her hand over her mouth... waiting... waiting... fuck, I can’t breathe.
“Your wife is fine, Mr. Everton.”
“Thank you,” I exhale in relief, then look to the ceiling and repeat those words. “Thank you.” I’m not religious, but when my brain processes news like this, I’ll thank whoever’s up above, and I notice my parents do the same. Their shoulders relax and my mother wipes the tears off her cheeks.
“Is she on her way?” I ask.
“No, I’m afraid not,” he shakes his head. “Mr. Everton, I have some difficult news to tell you.”
“What? You said she was alright.”
“She is.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“Well,” he sighs. “According to the officers who questioned them, your wife went with him willingly and she’s still with him now.”
“No,” I whisper and shake my head.
“They were stopped at the hotel he’s registered at, and your wife had a suitcase with her.”
“No,” I continue shaking my head in disbelief as I think of David Rosen’s words about my wife. “She won’t be in that big penthouse of yours for long, now that the money’s finally flowing in from her father’s estate. She’s been using you, dumbass. Waiting for her daddy’s money.”
“Cove, it’s okay. There must be an explanation for all of this. It’s all going to be fine,” my mother says.
And then I recall Marcus’s words. “Does little Sophie Jameson have plans for that fat check? I heard she didn’t have much growing up, was a poor kid living in a dilapidated house with a nutcase of a mother. I wouldn’t be surprised if that check makes her feel powerful and finally in control of her life.”
“No,” I repeat in a louder voice and look toward my office. The check.
“Your wife said she was going to call you as soon as...”
I race past him, up the stairs, and pull her purse out from under my desk, dumping the contents out and emptying the pockets; she has it. She has the check. It’s gone. She’s gone.
“Sophia!” I shout with a stopped heart. I feel dead, like my life just ended and I was the one shot in the head, not Paul or David. I kick my desk and my foot goes through the wood, making a hole and trapping my leg inside. My father walks in and helps me step out of the splintered opening and then grips my shoulders and forces me to look him in the eye.
“Damn her and Marcus, whoever the fuck he is.” My fist’s a bomb that’s been dropped from a plane, on its way down to crash into the earth, taking out everyone in its path. When I find him he’ll be reduced to nothing.
“Cove. Look at me, come back to me,” my father says while holding my shoulders still. “Control yourself before you do something stupid.”
“What? Like marry Paul’s daughter? That was stupid.”
“Don’t think that way. We have no idea what’s going on. Talk to her before you jump to conclusions.”
The Detective joins us in my office and my mother’s sobs can be heard down below.
“Listen to her,” I say with a nod of my head toward the balcony railing. “Even Mom can sense that I got fucked over.”
“Mr. Everton,” Detective Ferguson steps forward. “Your father’s right, you need to speak to Sophia. She left of her own accord and there’s nothing more that we can do, but you also don’t have the full story. My advice is to call her. I’m not getting involved in a family feud, however, I believe you’ll have a different take on the incident once you speak to your wife.”
“Well, Detective, doesn’t that just sound easy as pie? You have no idea what’s going on either,” I seethe. “If you had the full story, you’d know why I feel this way.” I break away from my father in need to kick or punch another object. My foot makes contact with the heavy bag as I groan in anger.
“After questioning Marcus, I have inside information about him that I can tell you’re unaware of. It would be best for you to call them,” he responds before my father cuts in.
“I know what you’re thinking, but you have to trust her, son. Don’t jump ahead of yourself without any evidence.”
“She has the inheritance check, Dad, and took off with some guy. Suitcase in hand, for fuck’s sake.” Turning quickly, I look at Detective Ferguson. “What hotel are they in?”
“We can’t give out exact information. Your wife’s an adult and it’s her decision whether or not she wants to disclose her location to you.”
“I’m her goddamn husband!” I respond in frustration as I search for my phone, checking all my pockets and then the office. It must have fallen when I ran downstairs to catch Marcus.
“It’s there, Cove,” my father points, “next to the chair.”
I slide the screen and see two messages, both from Marcus’s cell.
“Did she call?” my father asks.
“Maybe,” I say.
“Mr. Everton,” the Detective extends a hand. “I’d like to say it’s been a pleasure and to take care, but with your track record, it seems more appropriate to say see you tomorrow.”
I shake his hand with a straight face. “I don’t appreciate your sense of humor. And you won’t be back. We won’t be seeing one another ever again.” My father leads him out and I finally have a moment alone.
I look at the screen of my cell and tap my message box, hoping Sophia called and not Marcus. I’m sick to my stomach. What inside information does the detective have? Is Marcus, Evan? Evan was coming to the Scarlett tonight; it’s him. Has to be...
The first message starts, and it’s not the voice I wanted to hear.
“Cove, Marcus here,” he laughs. “Just checking in, wanted to know if you’re worried about anything. Like, perhaps, your wife?”
“You fucker, don’t be
mean to him.” I hear Sophia in the background.
“She and I have a few things to discuss. But I’ll keep her safe... I promise I won’t cut her up and stuff her in the suitcase she’s dragging around.”
“Knock it off!” Sophia yells and I hear a smack. I think she hit him. At least I hope that’s what happened, and not the other way around. “Give me the fucking phone.”
“No, sit down,” he says to her.
“Don’t push me away, give me the phone,” Sophia steams.
“Listen, Cove. Your wife’s a feisty bitch so I can’t talk long.” I hear another struggle for possession of the phone. “But, I want to ask you something,” he pauses. “Sophie, listen to me and sit your ass down!” he shouts. There’s silence and then the phone is muted. I wait, nervously... he better not lay a finger on her. “Cove,” he’s back. “How does it feel to lose something so precious from your life? Do you appreciate her more now that she’s gone?”
It sounds like Soph fights for the phone once more, and then the first message ends.
Thank God it’s Sophia’s gentle and affectionate voice on the line the second time.
“Cove, I’m fine. Don’t worry, okay? I need to talk to the bastard before he leaves town, but I promise I’ll be home soon. Sorry if he caused a scene at the Scarlett.” The phone cuts out and I run my hand down my face. What the hell just happened?
“Was it her?” my father asks as he and my mother enter the office. “Is she alright?”
“She told me not to worry,” I whisper. “And that she’d be home soon.” I call Marcus’s number but it goes straight to voicemail.
“Do you know where she is?” my mother steps forward and touches my arm.
“No.”
“Well then, we need to be on our way to search every hotel parking lot in this city for his car. I’ll drive,” she says. “I’m sure this guy told her what to say. We’re getting her. Now. I want her home and in safe hands, along with my grandbaby.”
I stare straight ahead in a daze, my parents waiting for a response as my mother tugs on my arm.
“Cove?” my father questions my silence. “Come on.”
My cell rings, pulling me out of confusion and back to reality. It’s Marcus.
“If you lay a hand on my wife, I’ll kill you.”
“Touch your wife?” he laughs. “I’m not going to touch your wife, Cove. What, you mean like finger her or fuck her, or something like that? Jesus, that would be... let me use a woman’s term for it... icky. She’s beautiful and all, but I’m not into that kind of taboo shit.”
“What do you mean by that? Hell Marcus, just put her on. I want to talk to her.”
“Can’t, she’s taking a piss. Anyway, the reason I called was to congratulate you again on your kid. Fuck, I thought you were just kidding that night in the elevator in order to save yourself. The old, my wife’s pregnant so please don’t kill me, trick. There really is a new Jameson coming into this world?”
“Everton,” I say.
“Hmm, okay. Whatever. I’ll be dropping your wife off at the penthouse in a of couple hours,” he pauses. “Man, I love these games. This is fun, isn’t it? Too bad it all has to end. So... congrats on knowing how to breed like all the other good little rabbits in this world, and I hope you have many more, and remember to name one of them Mark, after me. Okay?”
“What?” The word passes out of my mouth in a ghostly puff of air.
“Hell, you’re not very bright, are you? My sister married a moron. But, that would make sense ‘cause women tend to marry their fathers, and our father was an idiot.”
“Wait, what did...” and with that, he’s gone. I call back but it goes to voicemail. “Oh my god,” I exhale. “Oh fuck,” I pace. “Son of a bitch, I can’t believe that bastard was in my face for two days and I didn’t even know it was him.”
“Who? What happened?” my parents ask.
My legs are jelly as vomit rises from my stomach. “Like father, like son,” I whisper. “He’s Mark Jameson... Sophia’s brother.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“I need a moment alone,” I request after listening to my parents, up in arms over how deranged Marcus... Mark is. They’re cautious, and my mother still wants to find what hotel they’re in, but for now all I want is a second to catch my breath... and drink.
They finish cleaning the bar and back rooms while I sit in my office chair, with my desk drawer open and a bottle of bourbon staring back at me. My splints tap the wooden desk creating a ricochet of echoes in the empty lounge below. With clouded thoughts and my body, heart, and mind all numb, I open the bottle and swallow my medicine. Man down. I’ve just disappointed everyone in my life, but do I really give a shit that Soph will be upset about the liquor? I don’t know. Something tells me I should be angry with her, yet she did nothing wrong. She had no idea the person who I called Marcus was her brother.
Or did she?
She mentioned the name Marcus Wild sounded familiar. What the fuck is that about?
A mouthful of bourbon travels down my throat and warms my stomach. I realize another Jameson has wrestled me to the ground. Paul sexually abused me, and then he set me up to create porn with his son? How sick is that? And now I’m married to his daughter? Goddamn, I’ve been with all three of them sexually. I can’t believe this shit.
“Cove!” my father yells. “What’s the plan? We’re finished down here and walking in circles, waiting.”
I push away from my desk, take another swallow of bourbon and enter the darkened stairwell, then down to the bar.
“What are you doing? Damn it, you’ve been so good,” my mother declares. “Put it down.”
I open a bottle of beer and walk toward the back door. “We’re going to Haverty’s.”
“What about Sophia?” my mother asks as my father takes his keys from his jacket pocket.
“She said she was fine. I’m supposed to trust her, right? What the hell is she gonna do, take off with her brother, hang out in Vegas, and work for Jameson Industries? I doubt it. Mark terrorized me, and if she leaves with him, then fuck her. But that’s not going to happen unless she’s been lying to me since day one, and if that’s the case, she can go.”
“Cove!” my mother yells.
“Well? Are we really going to drive to every hotel in the city? What the fuck? I love her to death, and believe me, it’s killing me that she’s not here, but I have to believe the message she left is the truth. She’s okay. If she was with someone she didn’t know we’d already be out that door searching for her, but she’s talking to her asinine brother, probably about his business, their father, and family shit.” I chug the beer and my father snatches it out of my hand and slams it on the bar.
“Get in the fucking car,” he says on his way out. “And don’t take that tone with your mother.”
I follow them into the rain with my head hanging low while checking for Haverty’s address on my phone.
“Where does he live?” my father asks as he unlocks the doors of the Escalade.
“His file on my cell says South Dorene Avenue, house number thirty-four, but that can’t be right.”
“We’ll see soon enough. Why did you decide to check on him anyway?” he asks.
We pull out and I stare at the raindrops rolling down the window. “I’m worried about him, for one. It’s not like him to take off. Plus, Mark’s been fucking with my head. He asked why I’ve never been to Haverty’s house, and he also said he was trying to teach me a few things about life; that I needed to be a man and take care of my family and friends. He was trying to tell me something in his own sick fucked up way. Challenging me, perhaps.”
“I don’t understand,” my mother says. “He was testing you? Why?”
“I’m only guessing right now, but when I think about my interactions with him, I’d say his strategy was to get me to have a look at what’s important in my life.”
“So he’s like the Ghosts of Christmases Past, Present, and Yet to Come?”
my mother asks.
“If you ever meet him, which I hope you don’t, just don’t say that in front of him... the shithead already has a superiority complex.”
I shake my head when we pass two young children who can’t be older than five, walking alone in the dark with bare feet. They’re enjoying the rain with mouths wide open catching the rain on their tongue. I remember doing that when I was their age, but never without my parents in tow, especially this late at night. It’s worrisome because we’re getting into the rail neighborhood, as it’s called. Literally, it’s on the other side of the tracks.
“Is Mark friend or foe?” my father asks.
“He’s definitely not a friend.”
“Cove,” my mother cuts in. “How can you say that? He’s Sophia’s brother, you have to like him. What he did was foolish, but boys will be boys.”
“You have no idea what you’re saying. Trust me. Can we not get into my relationship with Mark Jameson right now? My mind is on Haverty,” I gaze out the window at the boarded up houses and get a pit in my stomach, no, it’s more like a boulder. “This has to be the wrong address?”
My father parks in front of an abandoned building, and across the street is a shotgun style house that should be condemned. Shit.
“How much do we pay him?” my father whispers.
“More than this,” my mother replies.
I don’t see the Escalade, but will assume if this is his home, that he parks it elsewhere. “Stay here with Mom,” I say to my father. “If anyone bothers you just drive away.”
My mother studies the house then reaches into the back seat and grips my knee. “We should all go in together.”
The place is falling in on itself and I wonder if the bourbon has affected my vision. No, I’d need a lot more alcohol in my system for my eyes to distort a house this much. “I understand what you’re saying, Mom, but from Haverty’s point of view I doubt he’d be comfortable if the entire Everton family walked into his home. I don’t want to embarrass him.” I examine the front again and sigh. “It’s bad enough I’m showing up here unannounced. I’m going in alone.”