What He Wants

by Jessie Gussman

  “And if they’re fine, you can come back and help with putting the hardwood floor down. We need to go rent the nail gun anyway.”

  Was she being too protective? She didn’t think so. The twins were her responsibility. They’d already had so much neglect and confusion in their lives.

  “I’ve heard part of being a mother is taking care of yourself. Stop worrying,” Kelly said with an easy smile.

  It reassured her, since Kelly had seen some awful things in her line of social work. If she wasn’t concerned... They would be fine. Cassidy closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

  “Have you seen Torque again?” Kelly climbed down the ladder and moved it forward a few feet before climbing back up to get at a new patch of ceiling.

  “At the mentorship meeting.”

  She paused on the ladder steps. “How’d that go?”

  “Good, I guess. He agreed to do it, anyway. But he really doesn’t want my help.”

  “Why not?”

  Kelly grinned and continued climbing. “Took one look at your beautiful face and decided he’d ditch the mentorship since he couldn’t date you if you were doing that.”

  “Not likely.” Cassidy used her arm to push a few stray hairs back from her face. “I think it’s a pride thing.”

  “Men have a problem with it a lot of times.” Harris moved her paintbrush thoughtfully.

  “I’m not sure.” They hadn’t talked much. But she felt like he was the only person in the world who thought she was more than a pretty face. Still, the memory of their almost kiss, mixed with their pre-prison history, made her long to wish he really did want to ditch the mentorship so he could date her. It was what she always wanted anyway.

  Kelly gave her a warning look. “I’d worry about him being around the kids before your new nanny.”

  “What crime did he commit? It wasn’t one with kids, was it?” Harris asked.

  “Of course not. Vehicular homicide was the charge.” As always, guilt placed a heavy hand on the back of her neck when she talked like the charges were actually Torque’s instead of hers. She’d never get used to making him take the blame.

  “Was he drunk?” Harris asked softly.

  The hand squeezed. Hard. She flinched. “No. But there was a bottle of vodka in the glove compartment. Half gone. And a bag of weed.”

  “Ugh. He sounds like a winner.” Kelly made a face.

  “They weren’t his.”

  Kelly rolled her eyes. “That’s what they all say.”

  “No. They really weren’t.” She’d put them there. She hadn’t meant to, and Torque didn’t know it. But she’d been carrying them with her that night after taking them from her mother. Why she hadn’t just thrown the stuff away, she couldn’t say. She certainly hadn’t planned on stashing them in Torque’s glove box. But she’d been snooping in his truck, curious about the boy who wasn’t like the other boys she knew. She wanted to know him better. Well, she’d sure gotten a surprise when she’d opened his glove box and seen the picture that he kept in there.

  Her.

  He had a picture of her in his truck. Folded four ways, and worn, like he’d gotten it out a lot and looked at it.

  She didn’t even look that great—she was modeling long underwear and wore hiking boots—who even did that?

  Honestly, the find had shocked her. At first, it made her think he was just like everyone else, looking at her like a pinup. It hurt. She’d been so sure he was different. That, combined with the fighting at home, and the news that her parents were splitting, plus her mother’s drinking and drug issues...well, there would never be an excuse good enough for what she did next.

  Kelly broke the silence. “We’re waiting.”

  Cassidy looked around. Her roller was dripping on the particle board floor, while Kelly and Harris had stopped what they were doing and were staring at her.

  “You sound like you know what you’re talking about. Neither of us knew you back them. Well, I did, but not very well.” Harris was several years younger than her.

  “So spill.” Kelly leaned over the top of the ladder, her roller still.

  Cassidy swallowed. No one knew the truth. Torque wouldn’t talk to her, and she didn’t want to contradict his story. She’d never told a soul. Her heart started slamming in her chest, like it wanted to escape.

  “I know he didn’t, because I put them there.”

  “Why?” Harris asked.

  “You and Torque Baxter?” Kelly almost fell off the ladder. The left side lifted off the floor before slamming back down.

  “No way,” Harris said.

  “It wasn’t like that.”

  “What was it like, then?”

  Cassidy swallowed. “We knew each other. I rode around with him a few times in his truck.” She lifted a shoulder. How to describe the feelings that she wasn’t even sure about? In the end, she just couldn’t. Whatever they’d had, she ruined, but it was still precious to her. And private. “I took the dope and drink from my mom, and it ended up in his truck. The cops found it after the accident.”

  “He never told them different?”

  “No.”

  “You never came forward.”

  “No. He...he wanted to protect me, I think. He didn’t dispute that it was his, and when I tried to talk to him, to tell him I needed to take the fall, he refused. I didn’t want him to get nailed for giving false statements, and I really didn’t have any proof that it was mine. My mom certainly wasn’t going to back me up, so I let it go.”

  “Wow.” Kelly’s eyes were huge. “So he took the fall for the booze and dope.”

  “Yes.” And for so much more.

  “How did you pay him?”

  “He wouldn’t take anything. I tried to send him money in prison. He wouldn’t touch it.” She shouldn’t have known, but as an attorney, she knew people who knew people, which was how the government worked.

  “So you’re helping him with the mentorship program.”

  “He really wouldn’t take that either. He said he wanted to earn his living with his own hands. He wasn’t going to let me be his mentor, which hasn’t helped as much as I’d hoped.”

  “I don’t understand why he wouldn’t have denied knowing anything about the booze and drugs.” Harris gave Cassidy a look. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

  Cassidy bit her lip. Her legs shook, and she stumbled to a bucket of joint compound, slowly sinking down on it.

  “Cassidy?” Kelly asked. She hurried down the ladder, coming over and putting a hand on Cassidy’s shoulder. Harris stood on her other side, the painting forgotten.

  “Is it that bad?” Harris asked apprehensively.

  “I was driving.”

  Weighty silence descended. Cassidy’s body flushed hot then cold.

  “Oh, my goodness.” Kelly put her hand over her mouth. Then wrapped both arms around Cassidy.

  “No.” Harris gasped. She hurried over and joined the hug.

  “Yes.” Pain sliced through her inside at what Torque had suffered. For her.

  After a while, Kelly pulled back. “He went to prison for you?”

  “He told me to leave and never breathe a word.”

  “This explains why you refuse to touch your trust fund. You couldn’t stand living it up when he was locked up.” Understanding dawned over Harris’s face.

  “Right.”

  Kelly crossed her arms. “And why you insisted on not only becoming an attorney but taking the county defender’s position. Why you’ve spent so much time and money on Miss Betty—the widow. Why you’ve done so much with me on my charity projects. Maybe even why you’ve adopted and why you’re adopting again.”

  “Yes, yes, and yes.” A weight had been lifted from her chest, just by telling someone, and she felt pounds lighter.

  Harris tapped her chin. “And it’s why you pushed for the mentor program. It’s why you asked for him.”

  Cassidy hung her head. “Yes.”

  Kelly shook her head. “You’ve be
en punishing yourself.”

  “I couldn’t stand the guilt.”

  “Wait. Did you ask him to do it?” Harris asked.

  “No.”

  Kelly’s jaw dropped. “Why did he?”

  “I don’t know. He would never say. And to top it all off, I wasn’t supposed to be driving. He never let me. I just jumped into his truck and took off. He happened to see me and was able to get in the passenger side. He buckled my seatbelt, or I might have been killed, too.”

  “Was his buckled?” Harris asked.

  “No. That’s why he broke his leg.”

  Kelly shook her head and gave Cassidy another quick hug. “I can’t believe you didn’t get hurt at all.”

  “I didn’t. I wondered about that over the years, too. But his truck was an old 1970s model. Heavy. Built like a tank. We weren’t going that fast, but it was fast enough. I was bruised some, and really shook up, but not hurt.”

  “And you left,” Harris stated flatly.

  “Yes.”

  “Because he told you to.”

  “Yes.”

  Chapter 15

  Torque shut the lights off in the garage. Another satisfying day filled with honest labor. Would he ever tire of the privilege of working?

  He should have gone home. Gram was old and hadn’t made the trip out to Pittsburgh to see him much. He vowed when he got out that he’d spend as much time with her as he could, but his feet had a mind of their own, apparently, and he turned the corner to Cassidy’s apartment complex just before eight twenty.

  A young man and woman stood under the pole light. The woman wore tight black pants, a long-sleeved t-shirt, and sneakers. Her hair was in a ponytail. The sweet scent of weed drifted over the fall air. Cassidy couldn’t take her kids out of this place fast enough. He intended to tell her that again as soon as he got up there.

  He cursed the two dollars in his pocket. He’d have brought her supper if he had more than two dollars to his name.

  Passing the couple, he nodded. They didn’t even try to hide their joint. The woman’s glassy eyes looked him over, and with boldness supplied by the grass, she smiled. “Nice shoulders.”

  “Shut up,” the man said. “Hand it over.” He held his hand out for the joint.

  Torque kept walking, hoping his irritation with Cassidy’s living arrangements subsided enough for him to have an intelligent conversation instead of the litany of demands that wanted to pop out of his mouth.

  Taking the stairs two at a time, he reached her floor. He rapped on her door. Even though it was closed, he could hear one, or both, of the twins screaming. He rapped again, louder.

  His hand was raised to rap a third time when the door opened. Jamal held a screaming Nessa. Nissa clung to his leg, crying just as loud.

  Torque walked in, scooping Nissa off the floor and closing and locking the door behind him. “Where’s your mother?” he asked in a near-shout to be heard over the noise. His eyes scanned the apartment. It looked like it’d been ransacked. Fear tightened his throat. His stomach twisted.

  “She went out.”

  “What?” His eyes snapped back to Jamal.

  “She went out.”

  She went out. “On a date?”

  Jamal nodded.

  Torque swallowed, surprised at the pain in his chest. It’s what he wanted. It’s what he told her to do. Crap.

  “Who’s watching you?” He looked around again. Was the babysitter in the bathroom?

  “She left.”

  It was too hard to try to have a conversation over the crying babies. “Have you eaten?”

  Jamal shook his head. He pointed to an unopened package of spaghetti and a can of sauce on the counter.

  Good grief, that would take thirty minutes to make—the water had to be heated and the noodles boiled. He couldn’t listen to the crying for that long.

  Rooting through the cupboards, he found soup crackers. He ripped the package open and dug out two crackers. Both of the babies quit crying to gum the crackers.

  He found sippy cups and soon had both of the girls in their high chairs with a pile of crackers in front of them. Quiet.

  Now that it was quiet enough that he could talk to Jamal, he asked, “You want to help me make eggs?” He opened the fridge and pulled out a carton.

  “Sure.”

  “Let’s get a bowl, and you can crack ’em. One each for the girls, and I bet you eat two.”

  Jamal grinned. “Bet I do, too.”

  He found some frozen broccoli and a bit of cheese.

  He had just dished out the makeshift omelets and started to feed the twins when there was a pounding on the door. “Let me in, kid.”

  Jamal’s eyes got big. “It’s her. She told me not to leave the living room.”

  “What?”

  “She told me to stay in the living room with the twins. She said my sisters weren’t to leave it and neither was I. If I did, she said she was going to take a wooden spoon and smack us all.” His lower lip trembled. “I had to leave to let you in.”

  Torque put a hand on Jamal’s arm as he stood. “You’re fine. She’s not coming back in here, and she won’t touch you or your sisters. Not with a spoon. Not with anything else.”

  He met Jamal’s eyes with a serious look of his own. “Keep an eye on your sisters, bud. I’ll be right back.” He stood and strode to the door as the pounding continued.

  He yanked the door open, and the woman who had been outside smoking a joint almost fell into him.

  Her eyes widened as she recognized him. She recovered quickly. “Who said you were allowed to be in here? You better not have harmed those innocent little children. Get out.” She tried to push past.

  He didn’t move, and she was forced to stop.

  Gripping the door like it was her throat, he said real low and real slow, “Get out. Don’t come back.”

  Her eyes narrowed. She huffed. He didn’t flinch.

  Her nostrils flared. “I will be calling the police on you.”

  “Do it from the hall.” He pushed the door shut. She stumbled out, caught her balance, and turned, but it was too late. He had the door closed and locked. She started pounding on it and yelling.

  Torque turned. Jamal watched him with wide eyes. He’d not considered that the boy might be taking it all in. He smiled, hoping it looked natural and not like he was gritting his teeth.

  Jamal returned his smile, a bit shaky.

  He couldn’t believe that the woman, who had just been standing outside smoking a joint, would actually call the police. If he never had a run-in with the cops for the rest of his life, he would not be disappointed. But technically, she was supposed to be here, and he wasn’t.

  “You okay, bud?” He touched Jamal’s shoulder. He flinched. Torque moved his hand back. The little boy hadn’t touched his food since Torque stood.

  He nodded.

  “You’re going to have a story to tell your mom.”

  His lips curved up a little.

  “Lost your appetite?”

  He nodded. “It’s like my old house. That mom was always mad.”

  Torque took a deep breath and blew it out. “I’m sorry. It made me angry that woman wasn’t doing her job. She was supposed to be in here watching and playing with you.”

  “That’s okay. It wasn’t you. I’m glad you didn’t let her back in.” He shuddered.

  The girls still had hearty appetites. Torque fed them, biting his tongue to keep from grilling Jamal about what, or rather who, Cassidy was with.

  He tried to tell himself he hoped she found a man, a good man, since she deserved one, but Tough’s words rang in his ears. “No man for her but you.” That’s how he felt. Tough’s amazing ability to see what other people were thinking and feeling was kind of legendary in their family, but he couldn’t have nailed his thoughts any better.

  Unless they were Tough’s thoughts?

  Torque had never stopped to think that Tough hadn’t read his mind. Did Tough really feel that he was the
only man for Cassidy?

  “Want some ketchup for those?” he asked Jamal.

  The boy nodded.

  Torque went to the fridge and got the bottle. If he were eating eggs, he’d have them slathered in ketchup. Maybe that would bring back Jamal’s appetite. He wasn’t sure why he was so concerned about food. First Cassidy eating, now Jamal. They were poor when he was growing up, but they were never hungry. There had always been mac and cheese.

  The ketchup helped, and Jamal ended up finishing his eggs by the time Torque had the girls’ trays cleared off and wiped. He pursed his lips, looking at their sloppy, smiling faces. He’d washed plenty of trucks in his time, but he’d never washed a little girl’s face before. Now he had two.

  “Little help here, Jamal?” He lifted a brow.

  Jamal snickered. Torque’s own lips curved up. He probably made quite a picture. His hands and forearms were clean, but his t-shirt was covered in dirt and grease. His face probably was too. Because of the chaos when he stepped in, he’d never taken his ball cap off, and it was filthy. He had to admit, it felt good to have the dirt of honest labor on him. But it probably did look funny to see the dirty, tough ex-con standing in front of the high chairs, overwhelmed by two tiny little girls.

  They babbled to each other. They each had just two shiny white front teeth, and they flashed occasionally as they banged their trays and laughed at each other.

  Jamal finally decided to be helpful. “They like the cloth to be warm.”

  He lifted a brow at Jamal in mock consternation. “Thanks.”

  It couldn’t be that hard. After rinsing the cloth with warm water, he sized up the nearest twin and tried to get the dried egg off her face. She had more experience than he did and easily ducked away from his hand.

  “They hate having their faces wiped.”

  “I see.”

  “Mom just does it. Fast so they can’t get away.”

  “Hmm.” That might be helpful. But there were a lot of cracks and creases. It wasn’t like a windshield. More like an aluminum rim with fancy studs. Only he’d never tried to wash a wheel while it was moving.

  If he could survive ten years in prison, he surely ought to be able to wash a baby’s face.