by Penny Reid
“For what?” he asked, still marching.
“For interceding with Mike. For having my back. For helping me.” For being a good friend.
“I just pointed out the obvious to Mike, which made his job easy and saved him a lawsuit. Oh. And one more thing.” He turned to walk backward. “They’re releasing a joint statement, and you’ll be censured—or reprimanded or whatever it’s called—for wearing your uniform in public while off duty. And that’s about it. So get back to work.”
That would not be it, as Cletus well knew. Maybe that’d be the official word on the subject from the department, but it was unlikely I’d be forgiven by anyone at the station for a while, and there was no way this would be forgotten.
Don’t get me wrong. People in Green Valley and the surrounding county were good folks. But the only thing that lasted longer than grudges around here were memories.
Chapter 13
*Jackson*
“If one person in a thousand criticized me while all the others cheered, I didn’t hear the cheers.”
Dorothy Dandridge
I pulled up to the community center at exactly 7:30 PM. I parked, I exited my truck, and I walked toward the entrance.
On the way over, I’d decided to rip this bandaid off. I would not wallow or wait, I’d accept the cold shoulders, snide comments, and trails of whispers—as was my due.
I’d just come from the disciplinary meeting with Mike, acting as my Association representative, and my father, acting as my sheriff. Maybe this explained the intense determination I currently felt to slather myself in punishment and condemnation.
During the meeting, I’d told them the truth of what had happened insomuch as I deemed necessary while also protecting Rae’s privacy. I’d explained that Ms. Ezra and I were acquaintances. I’d informed them that the kiss hadn’t been premeditated. Mike had asked if it had been reciprocated and whether the sheriff might be expecting a complaint from Ms. Ezra. I’d told them that it had been reciprocated but suggested they reach out to Ms. Ezra to confirm. Mike had said that they would, thanked me for my candor, and reiterated for us all that I’d been off duty at the time.
It was at this point that I’d interrupted. “Mike, while I appreciate what you’re trying to do, I was there on a call. I was on duty.”
“There’s no record of a call coming through dispatch or on the radio, son. And you couldn’t have been on duty because your shift ends exactly ten hours after you clock in.” Mike had given me a patient, paternal smile at this point and then slid his gaze to my father. “And I know the sheriff isn’t making calls over unofficial, untraceable channels. Furthermore, I know the sheriff would never expect his hard-working deputies to exceed the hours allowed by our collective bargaining agreement. Isn’t that right, Jeff?”
My father—leaning back in his chair, his elbow propped on the arm of it, his index finger along the side of his face, his thumb under his jaw, the rest of his hand covering his mouth—had stared at Mike coolly, but he hadn’t said a single word.
“Well. There you go, Jackson. We all agree. You were off duty.”
I didn’t agree.
I’d done it. I’d admitted it. And I was willing to take responsibility for it—all of it—and I’d hoped that counted for something. But watching my father watching me, disappointment heavy behind his gaze, I knew it counted for nothing.
Presently, as I crossed the parking lot of the community center, ready to be ostracized by everyone, I couldn’t shake the ache in my chest. I knew from experience that it would be a while before it would ease, and even longer before it dissipated completely.
But I also reminded myself that I’d gotten off easy. I told myself that if I didn’t want the ache, if I didn’t want folks treating me like the town pariah, if I didn’t enjoy being labeled as the town player, maybe I ought to stop acting like one. Maybe I should—
“Psssst! Jackson!”
Coming to a stop, I twisted to the left and right, scanning the parking lot for the origin of the sound and ended up stumbling back a step when I saw her. “Rae?”
She stood at the corner of the building under a floodlight, wearing a long, flowy orange dress with thin straps. Her hair was in braids, her features bathed in bright light, and she was waving at me to join her. “Come over here!”
I didn’t think about it. I jogged over. As soon as I made it around the corner, she took a step backward, her eyes big and searching.
“Hi,” she said, a small smile playing around her full lips.
“Hi,” I said, out of breath, and not because of the short jog.
Then an odd thing happened. For maybe the first time in my life, knowing I’d done something to disappoint my father, the thought entered my mind, It was worth it.
Kissing Rae had been worth it. More than worth it. Even if I’d been fired, the kiss would’ve been worth it. My father would eventually forgive me, I could always get another job, but there’d never be another Rae.
Suddenly, she threw her arms around me, pressing all the generous curves of her body against mine. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry.”
Instinctively, my arms came around her. She felt so good, warm and soft and right. “You don’t need to be sorry.” The ache in my chest I’d been carrying all day alleviated, just simply dissolved, and I set my chin on top of her head, inhaling her sweet floral scent. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Neither did you.” She clung to me tighter.
“Hey.” I stroked her hair at the back of her head, pulling my fingers along her braid. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?” This seemed like more than being worried for me or upset on my behalf.
She sniffed, shaking her head against my chest. “I’m just so sorry.”
It was clear, whatever she was dealing with, she didn’t wish to discuss it. Or maybe she wasn’t ready. I tried to think of something that would make her laugh.
Tugging on her braid, I said, “If you’re sorry, then maybe if you kiss it, you’ll make it all better.”
She laughed. Mission accomplished.
Withdrawing just a bit, she tipped her chin back to look up at me. “Hmm. Maybe later.”
“I’ll hold you to it.”
“You’re holding me to it right now.”
“So I am.” I grinned, admiring the curve of her smile.
Rae seemed to shake herself, blinking rapidly. “What was I saying?”
“You said you’re okay, and you don’t think I did anything wrong.”
“Yes! I think—I mean, I don’t think you did anything wrong. But Jethro explained how people will say you did something wrong, and so I accept that’s what they’ll say, even though you did nothing wrong. Are you okay?”
I’d barely caught any of her words because my mind finally caught up with where I was, and who I was with. How was it that she was still here? “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be back in LA by now?”
“I’m staying.”
“Staying?”
“I’m here to help you.”
“Help me?”
“Yes.” She linked her hands behind my back and peered up at me like she thought my parroting questions were cute. “I want to help, and Sienna told me that it would be best if I stayed for you—and Charlotte—so I stayed.”
“But what about . . .” Her life? Her career? How could she just blow off all her obligations and stay?
“I’m here for you.” She used her arms around my torso to give me a little shake. “As your friend.”
“As my friend.” Apparently, at present, I was only capable of repeating words she’d already said.
“Yes.” Rae nodded, her smile falling just slightly, her eyes darting between mine. “I don’t have many friends,” she said, like it was a confession. “Please, let me help.”
I stared at her, my brain having trouble forming anything akin to concrete thought, and I realized I couldn’t think very well when we were standing so close, when my hands held her body and her lip
s were only inches from mine.
I released her and backed away, shoving my fingers into my back pockets, and frowned at the pavement. She’s here to help, as a friend. “What is it that you think you can do?”
Rae balled her hands into fists in front of her, her gorgeous eyes wide with hope. “We have a plan. It’s all worked out.”
“Cletus said something about that. Okay. Tell me the plan.”
“We talked to Marta—Sienna’s sister? She’s also her manager—and she helped us think through damage control. There are a few issues, as I understand it. First, you don’t want people to think that you and Charlotte broke up because of us—I mean, me. But after the pictures and video, that’s what it looks like.”
I was nodding before she’d finished. “Right.”
“I’m here to make nice with Charlotte.”
“How do you mean?”
“Charlotte and I are going to hang out tonight, in front of the whole town, and get along famously. Then no one will think I’m the reason for the split.”
“Does Charlotte know this?” I’d been trying to reach Charlotte all day, and she hadn’t picked up or returned any of my texts.
This was ironic because almost every other woman I knew had called me—Zora Leffersbee, Angela Jones, Darlene Simmons, Patricia Robillard, Nikki Sadler, Carmen . . . you get the picture—and I’d sent their calls to voicemail. The only person’s call I had accepted was my sister Jessica’s, and I got the sense she’d mostly called just to tease me.
Anyway, I’d started to worry that Charlotte was mad since she hadn’t returned my calls or texts.
“You betcha! Charlotte knows, and she’s fully on board Operation Friend Pretend.”
“Pardon?”
“It was Sienna’s idea. She likes to name her plans. You’re lucky you didn’t hear the other ideas. Anyway, you’ll be with us tonight—with Charlotte and me—for part of the time.”
“I will?”
“Yes. The three of us will be seen together, laughing, talking, generally enjoying each other’s company—like pigs in shit.”
I involuntarily made a sound, surprised by her choice of words.
She winced. It was adorable. “See. I can’t say that. Jethro said it, and it made sense when he said it. But I’m from Cleveland. We can’t say ‘pigs in shit’ because I’m pretty sure people start picturing stinky pigs in actual feces. But I can say ‘You betcha!’ and ‘Tough tomatoes!’ and no one bats an eye.”
The sound of laughter hit my ears before I realized it came from me.
“You’re laughing at me.” She lifted her hands up and then let them fall against her thighs with a smack, adding robotically, “I’m a comedian.”
“Yes, you are. You’re hilarious.”
“This is what I get for trying to steal local colloquialisms. What if I said, ‘You, me, and Charlotte can be like three peas in an escape pod’?”
“That works.” I’d half forgotten what we were talking about. All I knew was that—whatever it was—I hoped we’d be talking for a while.
“Thank you. Anyway, for the rest of the evening, various members of Jethro’s family will also be lending their support, making sure you’re never alone.”
That surprised me. “Jethro? He agreed to this?”
“It was his idea. Well, mostly. Marta and Sienna contributed.”
Huh. Why would Jethro want to help me? “And y’all think this is going to make a difference?”
Rae’s lashes fluttered and a soft, hazy smile curved her lips. “I love it when you say ‘y’all.’”
I pressed my mouth into a line so I wouldn’t answer her smile with one of my own. We needed to stay focused, but staying focused around Rae was difficult. She was just so stinking fun. And sweet. And funny and kind. And—
“Rae,” I said, needing to say something, otherwise I’d be here all night, swapping stares and admiring all the ways she was special.
“Yes! Sorry.” She clapped her hands together. “That’s the other part of the plan. You and I are going to make it clear that we’re just friends. Just. Friends. And that you were helping me get out of a bad situation.”
Just friends? “Is that so? How’s that going to work?”
“You, Sienna, and Charlotte will tell people the whole thing was staged. That I asked you to help me because I wanted to break things off with Harrison, and I asked if you would help. We’re taking the whole, ‘Harrison and Rae have a toxic relationship, she’s looking to break free, and Jackson’s helping her out’ approach.”
I’m sure my face betrayed my disbelief. “That sounds absolutely, batshit crazy.”
“Yes. I know. But people will buy it.”
“Then they’re batshit crazy. No one is going to buy that.”
“Maybe so. In any case, I’m going to stay in town and help sell the story until everyone buys it, or at least rents it.”
That had me coming to attention. “You are?”
“Yes.”
My heart wanted to gallop, I reined it back. “How long?”
“I don’t honestly know.” She twisted her fingers in the fabric of her skirt. “At least until gossip about you and me and Charlotte dies down, and people lose interest. Why?”
I shuffled a step closer to her, compelled. “You can spare the time?”
“Actually, yes.”
“You don’t have a movie to film? An interview to give?” If she could spare the time, then why had she been planning to leave in the first place?
Why—
Why couldn’t we—
Why had she only asked for one more night together?
“No. I, uh, was going to film a movie this summer but—” She huffed, shaking her head, a flash of irritation or pain or something like both behind her eyes.
“What?” Unthinkingly, I reached out and encircled her forearm, a shock of awareness and heat traveling up mine at the contact. “What happened?”
“Remember my friend Lina?” She slid her arm through my fingers until our hands met, held. “From the wedding reception?”
“Lina Lestari? I know her. I mean—I don’t know her know her. But I’ve seen her movies.”
“She stole the role.”
I flinched. “No!”
“Yes.”
“That’s reprehensible.”
“Right?” Her hand tightened around mine. “I—I trusted her, you know? I told her about it, how excited I was for the part. Then she did some maneuverings behind the scenes and got me ousted.”
“You deserve better friends than her.”
Her gaze flickered over me, one of her eyebrows lifting a scant inch.
“Wait. Not that you need me to say that.” Oh, damn. First I’d lectured her about Harrison, now her choice in friends? I rushed to try and fix my misstep. “I value you as a person and as a woman. I know my opinion isn’t one you need or want and what I say doesn’t—and shouldn’t—have any bearing on—”
“You’re wrong.”
“I know. I always get it wrong.” I shoved my fingers into my hair, frustrated with myself and my big mouth.
“I mean, you’re right, but you’re wrong.” She drifted closer. “I don’t need your opinion. But I do want it. I value it.”
“You do?”
“I do.”
“Why?”
She cocked her head to the side, her eyebrows pulling together. “I don’t know.”
I chuckled. “Good enough for me.”
She grinned, dazzling me while she adjusted our hands such that our fingers threaded together. “Thanks Jackson.”
“For what?” I had the overwhelming urge to touch her cheek, so I did.
She leaned into my touch, closing her eyes. “For accepting my help, I guess. For being you.”
I loved this, being connected to her, touching her, talking to her. “Thank you, Raquel.” The words slipped out of me, unpremeditated.
Her lashes fluttered open, her soft smile returning. “For what?”
/> “Oh.” My eyes dropped to her mouth, to the slight part of her lips. “Things.”
“Things?” Her voice low, she tilted her head back and pressed closer, an invitation.
I slid my thumb along her jaw to just under her chin, angling it up for my mouth. I was going to kiss her now, and I would think about the wisdom and repercussions of it later. Much, much later.
“Yes. Things,” I whispered, lowering my face, brushing my lips against hers. Hot. Soft. Sweet.
She shivered at the contact, letting go of my hand, her arms coming around my neck, the front of her body aligning delectably against mine. “What kind of things?”
“All good things,” I said, licking the—
“There you are! I’ve been—aaahhck!” Sienna Diaz’s yelp was like a bucket of ice water and a punch to the kidney.
Rae and I jumped apart, withdrawing from each other, and faced Sienna. And Jethro. And Cletus. And Jenn. And Charlotte. Everyone but Sienna and Cletus seemed to be wearing their unique version of a smirk.
“You two are not supposed to be kissing right now!” Sienna stomped forward and grabbed Rae’s hand, sending me a glare the whole time. She paused just in front of me, lifting a finger. “We are trying to help you. Please. For once, keep your hands to yourself.”
I nodded, hoping I looked contrite instead of massively disappointed. “Yes, ma’am.”
Her usually pretty eyes narrowed into dangerous-looking slits, and in the next second she was gone, dragging Rae behind her. “Come on, Charlotte. Let’s get started.”
I met Charlotte’s gaze. She still wore a smirk.
“Charlotte!”
“Coming!” With one more cheeky glance at me, she quickly walked to catch up with Sienna.
“Seriously, Rae? Seriously? What kind of silver tongue does Jackson James have?” I heard Sienna ask.
Rae made a choking sound and then began to cough. Charlotte, meanwhile, laughed hysterically.
Jenn—Cletus’s wife—walked over to me and patted me on the shoulder, giving me a sympathetic smile and leaning in to say, “Cletus told me everything. Y’alls secret is safe with me.”
I fought a sigh, deciding to give her a closed-mouth smile and a tight nod. She was kind and trustworthy, but I was irritated that Cletus had told her.