by C. C. Piper
Still, doing things this way was tricky. Normally, he was in charge and made sure I met all of his demands, leading us both toward inevitable bliss. But I wanted to give him this, preferably before he realized what I was doing and stopped me halfway through. So I monitored my motions, slowing when I thought he might wake and speeding up as he settled back into a doze. He moaned continually as I did, the sounds giving me an indication of how to proceed.
He was so rigid in my hands as I fondled and rubbed, and I stared at him, watching as the tip of him grew visibly darker and harder. It was such a turn-on seeing him like this. It gave me a sense of empowerment, one I wanted to revisit again and again. I needed him to come now, I craved to feel him give me his release where I could not only feel the proof of his pleasure in my palms but also see it with my own two eyes.
I increased my pace, maintaining just enough pressure around him, then his moans deepened and he grunted, his body pouring itself on me, coating my hands and his lower abdomen. God, it made everything inside of me ache, it was so hot.
“Roxy?” his voice was gravelly with sleep and surprise. “Did you just—”
“I did,” I said, lifting up my hands to show him. I’d never done something as specifically wanton as this before, and it aroused me so much I had to clench my thighs together to try to instigate some friction. I hoped what I’d done hadn’t annoyed him or turned him off.
“Come here,” he told me, the bossiness of his tone making me comply immediately. Changing positions so I was beneath him, I noticed that he was still hard. Then, without hesitating, he took me in one quick stroke.
Guess it didn’t turn him off after all.
After sharing a lazy and lovingly satisfying morning together, we watched Callie play in the yard all afternoon. We’d bundled her up against the November chill, her pink fleece hood decorated with pointed cat ears. Her dark hair shone bronze in the sunshine and her round face seemed lit from within as she drew different shapes into the sand with her miniature shovel.
I heard a car door slam out on the street, but I didn’t pay it much mind. The apartment complex was large enough that people came and went all the time, and I didn’t expect Raina to return until later that evening. It was only when I heard a familiar woman’s voice that I stood, my chest filling with dread.
“Come to Grammy, Calliope. Come on, now.”
Callie glanced up but didn’t obey her grandmother’s wishes. Instead she said, “Hi,” waved at her, and went on scratching in the sand.
Jax had never particularly cared for my mother, I knew. Not that they’d ever had any knock-down-drag-out arguments or anything, but he’d told me more than once that she shouldn’t have been so neglectful. Of course, his parents had been neglectful, too, only in a different way. To his credit, though, he stood up and greeted her politely.
“Leona. It’s nice to see you again.”
She didn’t bother to return the favor. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Language, Mother,” I admonished her, not appreciating her cursing in front of Callie. But as per usual, she ignored me.
Maybe I shouldn’t have put up with my mother’s lack of respect, but she was the only grandparent my daughter had. I felt like keeping her away from Callie wouldn’t be fair to either of them, even though after what had just transpired, I felt sorely tempted anyway.
The problem lay in the fact that she remained as unpredictable now as she had when I was a kid. She showed up as a grandmother much as she had as a mother – whenever she felt like it. She was inconsiderate and selfish. But I felt confident that she loved Callie and me, even if she had a funny way of demonstrating it.
She turned her attention from Jax to me. “Why is he here?”
Frowning, he answered her. “I’m here to spend time with my daughter and Roxy.”
Mom looked horrified for a moment, then cleared her expression. “Just on a visit, then?”
“No,” I replied this time, exasperated enough by her rudeness that I purposely laced my fingers into his. “He’s back for good.”
Pivoting away from us, my mother knelt down to remove Callie from the sandbox. “But I’m playing…” my daughter cried. Jax stiffened beside me, and I grabbed at his arm to keep him from doing anything else.
“Come see Grammy,” my mother said again, making her voice higher pitched but still coming across as brusque as she turned her back to us. “Let’s see what I’ve got in here that you can play with,” she mumbled to herself, digging through her monstrosity of a purse.
She took out a lighter, a pack of cigarettes and even a flask that sloshed with God knows what. Jax tossed me a glance mixed with both incredulity and aggravation, but I shook my head at him. As much as the woman bugged me, she was my mother and had a right to visit her grandchild.
Finally, she located a plastic keyring like you’d throw in the freezer to soothe a teething baby. “Here, Calliope. You’ve always liked these.”
Well, sure, if by always she meant more than three years ago.
Callie, predictably, took what was essentially a chew toy and dropped it in the sand, forgotten. Then, she retrieved her shovel and resumed drawing in the sand. As if bored with my daughter, my mother lit a cigarette right there beside her.
“Mom, what have I told you about smoking around Callie?”
“Eh, I’ll blow the smoke away from her.”
“No,” Jax interjected, his outrage flowing off him in waves. “You’ll either put the cigarette out, or you’ll leave.”
She narrowed her gaze at him as if daring him to say or do more, but after a moment, she stubbed it out on the lid of Callie’s turtle before tossing the remains of her precious cancer stick back into her handbag. “You always were a little snot.”
Then, as if realizing that she was the only adult in the vicinity not standing, she rose grumbling and griping to her feet. Hoisting her purse to her shoulder, she padded toward her old clunker of a car. Apparently, she’d decided not to say goodbye, not even to her granddaughter. This wasn’t the first time she’d dispensed with the practice.
She’d almost reached her vehicle when she muttered, “Jesus, can’t believe we went to all that trouble and it didn’t even work.”
The corners of Jax’s lips turned down in confusion, but I had no explanation. “What are you talking about, Mom?”
“The Liddells. They wanted to… How they’d put it? ‘End your association’ with their son.” She opened the car and sat behind the wheel.
“What do you mean?” I asked, seeking clarification even though my stomach had frozen into a block of ice. Both Jax and I marched towards her.
“His folks. They paid me to switch out your cell phone number. It took some kind of special code or something, but it worked. Kept the phone itself the same, though, so you wouldn’t know the difference. And they did something fancy to block you from his.”
“What about my letters?” Jax spoke up, his body as tense as a guy wire.
“Oh, that was easy. I just threw ‘em into the garbage outside before she could check the mail. It was nice when you finally stopped writing. Took a load off my mind.”
Jax blanched, his complexion paling to an almost translucent shade of white before his hands curled into fists.
My mother revved the engine. “Mom, wait!” We needed more information, deserved it, even.
But before I could insist on her providing us with more answers, she stomped on her accelerator, disappearing down the street.
16
Jaxson
“I can’t believe her. I can’t believe her,” Roxy kept saying over and over again, and while I could empathize, her alarmed tone had captured Callie’s attention.
“Mommy? What’s wrong?”
I scooped her up and affected a carefree tone. “Hey, glamour girl, why don’t you go play with your dolls inside, okay?”
Our daughter nodded, grinning as if the whole debacle of Leona’s visit hadn’t bothered her in the least. I ushere
d her into her room, made sure she was preoccupied with the dolls, then turned to check on Roxy just as I heard the front door open and close.
The mother of my child wandered in, rubbing her arms over her hoodie and looking shell-shocked. Keeping half an ear out for Callie, I took Roxy’s hand and led her over to her wooden kitchen table. Once settled, she started to nibble on her thumbnail. “I know you’re upset, Rox. I am, too.”
“But do you know what this means? My mother fucked with my cell so I couldn’t get your calls or texts. She trashed your letters. I believed you dumped me, that you left me high and dry for all these years because of what she did. Because of her.”
“She’s not the only one culpable,” I reminded her. And I needed to determine precisely what had transpired between Leona Miller and my parents.
“Do you think they really paid my mom to keep us separate?”
“I don’t know,” I said, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense.
James and Valerie Liddell had always hated me being with Roxanne Miller, the girl from the wrong side of the tracks, even if I never thought they’d stoop to something so low at the time. Yet they’d sent me to another continent without warning, giving me no time to prepare or even to say goodbye.
Them severing all my methods of contact with Roxy to get her out of my life would be unforgivable, especially given the circumstances. And as much as I hadn’t gotten along with my parents, knowing what I knew now and looking back with hindsight made me realize that it was possible.
Roxy’s mother may well have done what she had at my mom and dad’s behest.
Which meant I needed to make an appointment with my own mother.
Valerie Liddell sat primly on her Queen Anne chair, looking as put together and affluent as any fine Southern lady could hope to be. Her auburn hair had been painstakingly coiffed, her makeup diligently applied, and her upscale boutique skirt set professionally pressed. She appeared to be what she was. Old money.
But now I suspected there was more to my mother than met the eye, and that this hidden facet of hers was anything but nice.
“Jaxson,” she said, doing that air kiss thing that I so despised. It was so fake, such an affectation. “How are you?”
Do you even care? The question popped into my mind. When I was in London, I was visited twice a year by my mother. Once on my birthday and then every Christmas. She’d never invited me to come home, nor had she communicated on a regular basis other than the occasional text or email.
I thought about how I felt about Callie and how I enjoyed being with her. Neither of my parents had ever shown me more than minimal affection. Yet I loved hugging my daughter. I loved playing with her, holding her, carrying her, tickling her. I loved watching her sleep and sharing meals with her. I couldn’t imagine treating that precious little girl like my parents had treated me.
“I have a question for you,” I said, putting all conjecture aside. I might not have felt close to my mother, but I felt certain that if I asked her something point-blank, she’d feel compelled to answer. And if she lied to me, I also felt certain that I’d be able to tell.
“Anything, darling.”
Darling. The endearment rang as false.
“I need you to be honest with me.”
“Well, of course I’ll be honest,” she said, blinking and shaking her head as if offended that I’d even consider any other alternative to be the case.
Uh huh. “Did you and Dad send me to London to end my relationship with Roxanne Miller?”
Keeping her knees carefully together, she stood and crossed the room to the wet bar. “Would you like something to drink?”
“What I’d like are answers.”
Her blue eyes caught mine. I’d inherited those eyes from her, just as Callie had inherited hers from me. Yet other than that lone physical feature, I didn’t feel like my mother and I had much in common. “Very well.” She took her time pouring out a brandy then sat back down in her chair. “Your father and I decided you would be better served by pursuing a different association than one with her.”
“You two decided,” I parroted back at her, trying to maintain my calm. “Without considering how I felt about the situation.”
“You were eighteen, Jaxson. Still a boy. Dallying with such an unsuitable girl long-term would never have been appropriate. Once we realized how much time you’d been spending in her company, we realized we needed to intervene.”
“Yet you had no problem whatsoever throwing me to wolves in London. I hadn’t even gotten a degree or had any sort of business training beyond high school, Mother. It’s a wonder I didn’t straight out fail.”
“You managed,” she said proudly, her eyes glittering. “You’ve always had tremendous potential and intelligence. Your father and I knew you’d make it.”
I scrubbed my knuckles through my hair then down my goatee, doing my best not to fly off the handle, but my hands were shaking with suppressed wrath. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, then another. “Do you have any idea what your meddling has done? How much you cost me?”
Mother fluffed her hand in the air as if batting away a mosquito. “Is all this melodrama really necessary, son?”
“Considering that I only recently got to meet my almost five-year-old daughter, I think I’m exhibiting a herculean amount of restraint.”
Startled, her fluttering hand landed at her throat, her eyes zeroing in on mine. “Daughter?”
“You going to stand there and tell me you didn’t know?” I snapped out, the release of my wrath breaking across me like an out of control wildfire. “Your grandchild. Calliope Jacqueline Miller, the baby I fathered with Roxy.” My movements jerky, I rushed toward my mother, showing her one of the many photographs I’d shot of Callie and me with my phone.
She gaped at it like a codfish, then reached out to seize my cell, but I pocketed it before she could. It was no less than she deserved.
“But I…”
“You what?” I shouted so loudly it felt like a razor down my throat. “You and Dad must’ve had a good time playing God with your only son, must’ve enjoyed damn near ruining my life. I thought Roxy rejected me for no apparent reason, but that’s not what happened at all. It almost destroyed me to lose her.”
“Then,” I went on, “no thanks to you, I came back and found out about Callie. Do you have any idea how it feels to be lied to by people I’m supposed to be able to trust, by people who are supposed to love me? Do you know how devastating it is to realize how much I missed?” My face felt hot, as if someone had pepper sprayed it. “You’re responsible for that. You.”
Suddenly, I couldn’t stand to be in the same room with my mother. I couldn’t stand to be in the same house. I did an abrupt about-face and strode toward the grand staircase that led to the marbled entryway, needing to get out.
“Jaxson? I didn’t know about her. I swear.” Her voice sounded beseeching, remorseful, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t. It had come from her too little and too late.
She’d followed me out to the landing at the top of the staircase. I paused with my back still turned to her, huffing out a laugh utterly devoid of humor. “Oddly enough, I don’t believe you.”
“Son…”
Then, I looked at her. I sent her such a glare of loathing that she took a step back. “Don’t call me son or darling or any of that other bullshit. I know it’s not real. And don’t expect to ever meet your grandchild, either. I’m not letting you treat her like you’ve treated me.”
Feeling as if I couldn’t breathe, I hurtled down the steps two at a time, knowing that I would never return.
After I arrived back at Roxy’s apartment, I knocked on her door. Raina materialized in a bathrobe, yawning widely and giving me the impression that I’d awakened her. At her displeased expression, I glanced at my watch to check the time. The dial read after midnight.
What the hell was I doing here?
“Can I help you?” Raina asked me, her tone brusque.
Normally, someone speaking to me with such a tone would bring out my more aggressive tendencies, but tonight, I wasn’t myself. I felt as if I’d been on a roller coaster that kept going downward in endless descending loops. I couldn’t find my footing, and I couldn’t seem to stop the spiraling momentum. I stood at Roxy’s threshold as if on a precipice, unable to foster any sort of rational decision on whether to stay or go.
Luckily, the woman I loved appeared behind her roommate. Her chestnut hair tumbled down around her shoulders and her exquisite features lit up the moment she saw me. Then, she studied me more carefully, and a V marred the lovely expanse of her forehead. I didn’t know what she saw in my face, but she tugged me inside, yanking me into an embrace.
Closing my eyes, I breathed her in, already feeling better.
“I shouldn’t have come over here so late,” I apologized, even while I knew I didn’t want to go anywhere else. My voice sounded as if I’d swallowed a full-sized container of Drano.
“You went to speak to your mom.” She didn’t make this a question.
“Yes, and I don’t plan to speak to her ever again.”
She sighed, running her fingers through the hair at the nape of my neck. “Sounds pretty harsh.”
“That woman deserves harsh. Leona told us the truth. My parents manipulated her into fucking with the mail and your cell. But they were the masterminds. They’re the ones who tore us apart. They’re the ones who overnighted me to the U.K. like a goddamn priority mail package.” I heard the bitterness in my voice but couldn’t curb it.
“We’re together now.”
“But we could’ve been together all along.”
“Why are you more upset now than you were before?” she asked me.
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I thought I was living my own destiny, when instead, they controlled me like some marionette on a string. I mean, think about all that we missed out on. I didn’t get to be there for your pregnancy or for Callie’s birth. I didn’t get to support you while she was struggling in the hospital. I didn’t get to see her roll over or crawl or walk for the first time. I didn’t get to hear her first word. It was bad enough when I thought it was a misunderstanding between the two of us but knowing that my parents were so willing to steal our happiness to meet some psycho agenda of their own... Who does shit like that?”