Текст книги "Jesse"

Автор книги: Jo Raven

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

She shrugs, her mouth downturned at the corners. “I never said he did.”

I gape at her. Words are failing me. I never thought she’d admit it.

“You and everyone else assumed he was the one who flirted with me and kissed me. You have no faith in him, and you’re right not to.” She pushes off the wall and sighs. “I’m doing you a favor, don’t you see? Jesse is like me: he doesn’t like attachments. He’s not the kind of boy you need.”

“But I’m the kind of girl he needs,” I say, finding I believe the words as they spill from my mouth. “And even more importantly, he’s the boy I love. So I’d appreciate it if you stopped getting in the way.”

Looks like the strangeness of the day isn’t yet over, but damn, saying those words to the bitch’s face sure felt good.

Chapter Twenty

Jesse

Weaving through the familiar narrow streets and back alleys, I try to ignore the feeling I’m being followed, because that’s just… paranoia. Nobody’s behind me when I turn.

Except for a tall shadow that vanishes behind a dumpster.

Still… No. Just no. Get your shit together, J.

Jason is having a quick smoke behind the Golden Dragon, a new Chinese restaurant near his usual spot. He gets up when he sees me, a dark brow arched, and whistles. “Man, who pissed on your parade?”

I pull out my pack of smokes and light up, then rub at the stubble on my chin. “Aren’t whores supposed to be sensitive and empathic and not ask such stupidly blunt questions?”

“Really?” He looks impressed. “I guess I never got the manual that came with the job. Neither did you, from what I recall.”

I give him a half-hearted grin and suck the bitter smoke deep into my lungs. I’ve smoked so much in the past two weeks my mouth tastes like acrid ash and my voice is rough like sandpaper.

“What brings you over here?” Jason’s eyes glimmer over the lit end of his cigarette. “In my empathic whore role, I’d ask if it’s woman trouble, but not in your case. So what’s up?”

I frown. “And if it is? Woman trouble?”

He laughs long and hard, choking on smoke. “Okay. That was a good one.” He throws his cigarette to the ground, steps on it, and coughs. “Almost got me there with the serious face, dickhead. One day, though. I have hopes for you, pretty boy.”

One day that has come and gone.

“Just checking on you,” I mutter. “S’what friends do.”

“Yeah, well. We’re doing okay. Though I was gonna come find you. Rumor has it you reported Simon.”

“I did.”

Jason does a double-take. “The hell you did.”

“What? You said I should. In fact, if memory serves, you said if I don’t do it, more people will get hurt.”

“Shit. I thought it was just rumors.” He shrugs. “Not that it makes any fucking difference.”

“What do you mean?” My cigarette has burned to the filter, scorching my fingers, and I throw it away. “A difference to what?”

“To Simon knowing you reported him.”

I was about to pull another smoke and I almost drop the pack. “What the hell do you mean, Simon knowing? How could he know?”

Jason shakes his head, not a hair moving out of place in his perfectly styled hairdo. “Had you followed? Followed you himself? Happened to be there when you entered the police station? Fuck me if I know.”

I remember the feeling of being watched at the station, and out, on the street, and suppress a shiver. “Why would he be following me?” The scars on my arm ache. I rub one of the deeper ones absently. “How the fuck would he know where to find me? It’s been years since the attack.”

Jason shoots me a shrewd look and cocks his head to the side. “You tell me, J. You never told me much about that night, or what happened afterward. You and Simon, you have history, don’t you?”

I press my lips together and lean back on the wall, kicking a foot up to rest on the smooth surface. “History. Sounds dirty.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Time you told me the story. It’s been years, man.”

I sigh. These are things I never told a soul. I hedge, rub my face, search for my smokes in my pocket.

Jason waits me out, until I start talking.

“That night wasn’t the first time Simon came to me,” I finally say. “Somehow he’d decided I’d be a good fit for his gang. So he cornered me again and again, insisting I join. I said no. I don’t do gangs, guns and drugs.”

The rules Helen set for me before she vanished.

Jason is leaning forward, brows lifted. “Go on.”

“That night… he wanted me to submit to him.” I open my mouth to say more, but the words fail me. Dammit.

Jason lets out a low whistle. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

I nod.

“Holy shit.” He fumbles for his pack of smokes. “Didn’t know he’s batting for my team.”

“Maybe he isn’t. See, it’s about control and dominance, or some shit like that.” I googled it on Gage’s laptop one night when I woke up drenched in sweat, my mind playing the events of that night in a never-ending loop of horror.

Suddenly Jason grabs my arm, his eyes round as saucers, and he looks sickly pale. “Dammit, J, he didn’t… He didn’t manage to force you, right?”

“No.” I shake my head. “Shook the motherfucker off and kneed him in the balls. Could be why he went into a rage and broke a fucking bottle on my arm.”

“Christ, J.” Jason snorts, shoulders shaking, then releases my arm and glares at me. “It’s not funny.”

“Never said it was.”

A beat of silence.

“Is that why you left right after?” Jason asks.

“I went to a group home for a while. I didn’t feel safe here.”

His turn to nod, gaze turned inward, and I really hope he isn’t reliving some dark memory of his own. “And now?”

Now… I glance around in the gathering darkness. “He only has to make one wrong step, and they’ll take him in. Meanwhile… Watch your back, Jason.”

“You, too, baby. Take good care of that gorgeous body for me.” He winks at me, gives me one of the lazy grins that nets him both men and women, and turns to go. “See you around.”

***

Although in front of Jason I pretended not to give a shit, on my way to work I jump at shadows and imaginary footsteps. I arrive at the taco joint out of breath, my heart slamming against my ribs as if trying to escape.

Jesus Christ, man. This shit is really getting to me.

“Ho, boy.” Mel scowls at me as I grab the baseball cap with the joint’s logo and ram it on my head. “Slow down. Someone after you?”

“No. No one’s after me.” I grab the bags of greens and start tearing them open, pouring them into a bowl. “How’s business tonight?”

It takes Mel a long moment to reply, and when I look up, my brows draw together, because he’s sweating, his face red as if with fever.

“Business’s fine,” he finally says. “Isn’t it your night off tonight?”

I shrug. Better working than having time to think. “You okay, Mel?”

“Sure I am. Too warm tonight.”

Well, he has a point. Inside the joint it’s pretty hot. “Why don’t you go sit outside? I’ve got this.”

“I’m sure you do.” He chuckles, but doesn’t get up. “Said I’m okay, boy. Make sure there’s cheese and chilies ready in the bowls.”

“Yessir.”

“Hey, you know how I ended up here? Did I ever tell you the story?”

I glance back at him, surprised. I’ve never heard him talk about his past. “No.”

“Ah, well, it’s a long one. To keep it short, I used to live on a farm, back when. My family owned cattle. We grew up there, my brothers and I. Those were good times.”

“Didn’t know you had brothers.” I pretend to check the chili bowl, curious to hear more.

“Two of them. Howard and Dale.” He wipes at his brow with a big, gnarled hand, and for the first time ever I wonder how old he is. I thought maybe he’s in his sixties, but he looks older tonight. “We inherited the farm when my parents passed away, one after the other. Heart attack, and cancer.”

I wince in sympathy.

“I didn’t want to stay on the farm after that. I wanted to see the world, live in the city. We had a fight, my older brother Howard and I. So I packed up and left. I traveled a lot, hitched rides on cars and trucks and boats. I walked across Europe. I went to China.”

The chili bowl forgotten, I lean forward, straining to catch every word. “China. Wow.”

“Yeah, that was something.” He chuckles. “A vast place. Weird people. Kind, too. Different. I thought that was the farthest from home I’d ever be, and I thought I’d be happy. Well, I was wrong on both accounts.”

“Why?”

“Because, boy, I wasn’t happy. And the farthest from home I’ve ever been is here, not thirty miles from the farm where I grew up.”

“So close?”

“Right around the corner.” He shakes his head, scratches his arm, swats at a fly. “While I was away, Dale died. He fell from his horse and broke his neck. Howard got married, had four kids. And I am here.”

Alone. He didn’t say it, but I can hear it loud and clear.

“You want to go home,” I whisper.

“I do, but it’s been so long since I last talked to Howard I can’t bring myself to call. You know how it is.” He sighs. “Pride. Resentment. Distance. But I’m old, boy, and not growing any younger. When you reach my age, you’ll realize that home is where your heart is. If my brother came to me now… Hell, I’d sell this shithole of a place and move back in a heartbeat, know what I mean?”

I nod, loath to tell him I have no clue. I mean, sure, when you have no roof over your head, no real family, you appreciate friends like nothing else. So Helen was my home for a while.

But what I also learned during my fun teenage years was that the people you care for may vanish from your life and leave you in the cold just as easily. With Helen gone, my home was gone, and I was left mourning.

As for Amber… Amber hasn’t answered, hasn’t acknowledged my gifts, my cards, my words. All I scribbled for her, letter by painful letter. Christ, I’ve sat and stared at the drawings I made of her. I tried baking breakfast muffins the way she taught me. I dreamed of her. Remembered how her skin tastes, how her hair smells.

Hell, I’ve even found myself buying coconut shampoo and coconut soap, because the scent reminds me of her.

But it doesn’t matter, does it? It never does. Maybe it’s time to give up, leave her in peace. Maybe that’s what she really wants.

Oh come on, Jesse Lee. Don’t be all surprised and shit. Nobody gives a fuck that you love her, that you want her. That you’d do anything for her. You wanna stay with her?

Nah. Don’t you know it yet? You’re just too much damn trouble to keep around.

Regards, The World.

***

Mel closes shop early tonight. He insists he’s fine, which is bullshit, but I hope all he needs is a good night’s rest. After I help him lock up, I head home, worried and damn tired. Despite the exhaustion, I feel ready to snap, a headache hammering behind my eyes.

So when my cell rings and it’s Seth, asking if I’d like to grab a beer, I’m game. I’d be game for anything right now, to be honest. Hell, I’d drink gasoline and light myself on fire. Anything to stop the thoughts churning in my aching head.

We meet in Halo, our usual place, and huddle around two bottles of Abita Amber. Shane and Ocean are there, too, shooting pool and cracking jokes.

“You okay, man?” Seth lifts the bottle to his mouth for a swig and regards me over the rim. “You haven’t looked up from your drink since you arrived.”

I shrug, look up at him to make a point, and go back to studying my fucking beer.

“Still no word from Amber?”

I shake my head. It has to stop hurting at some point, right? Has to, or I’ll go mad.

“Man, that sucks ass. But at least you still have a chance.” He upends his beer, swallowing it down, then glances at the pool table.

A chance?

I follow his gaze and find again my nemesis. Cassie is leaning against the bar, dressed in hot shorts and a short blouse that leaves her taut belly bare. Beside her is Manon, sleek, pretty and the object of Seth’s current obsession.

I frown at her. “What chance?”

“A chance, man. Unlike me. I’m unlucky. Always getting the wrong end of the stick.”

“What do you mean?”

“Manon. She’s with someone. I even saw her with the guy, dammit. So yeah.” He raises his bottle and drains the last drop from it. “Sucks.”

“Seth, focus.” I remove the bottle from his hand and shake it at him. “Amber. Chances. Does it ring any bells, or were you talking out of your ass?”

“No, man.” He slouches back in his chair and rotates his bad shoulder with a wince. “It’s just that Micah heard that Amber was happy with the flowers you sent her. That’s positive, right?”

Right. “Where did he hear that?”

“Kayla, I bet. Who cares?”

But then why hasn’t Amber texted me or called me in all this time?

“I swear I don’t get chicks,” I mutter, viciously stripping the label from my beer bottle. “With a guy we’d hash it out, punch each other bloody, then go for beers.”

“Heh. Better not try that with Amber.” Seth snickers, though his gaze has wandered back to a certain dark-haired girl. “It won’t go down very well.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” But I don’t know what else to do. “I think I should let her go. Give it up. Hell, for all I know I’m harassing her with my gifts and calls.”

“Didn’t you just hear me say she was happy with your flowers?”

“Yeah. Micah heard from Kayla.” I make air quotes with my fingers. “Bullshit, man. I don’t believe it. She’d have called me if she believed me. And if she doesn’t, then who cares about the fucking flowers?” I rub a hand over my face. “Christ, I’m beat. Think I’ll head home to bed.”

“First time I heard you call that apartment home. Wasn’t it Jackass and Co.?” He grins, and I snort.

He’s right, though. “I haven’t had any problems with the guys recently.”

They have been sort of… nice, in fact. Friendly. Gage even helped me make the muffins, and Travis, well he helped eat them. Idiot. As for Alex… I can’t figure him out, but he’s been hanging around, quietly loading the laundry in the machine and washing dishes.

Can’t remember the last time I did the dishes, not in the funk I spent the last two weeks in.

“Well, I’m leaving, too.” Seth gets up to go. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

He takes a detour to talk to his cousin, Shane, and I hang back, not wanting to talk to the guys. Not in the mood. Depression clings to me like a grimy film, darkening the world.

Seth performs a complicated handshake with Shane, says something to the others, and then we’re on our way out of the bar.

The night air is cool. The streets are quiet, few cars passing by, although groups of people wander from bar to bar, laughing and talking.

I remember watching them when I slept under the stars, wondering how it must be to not have a care in the world, to go out and have fun with your friends and not worry. And not fret. Not ache in your soul.

Well, I was wrong. Looks like money doesn’t change the ways we hurt.

And as we stumble through quiet back streets and stop, about to part and go our separate ways, that past returns with a vengeance to show me just how wrong I was.

The blow catches me in the back of my knees, throwing me to the ground. Pain explodes across my jaw and I roll on my side, groaning.

Right on time to see Simon and his goon beat on Seth with baseball bats, while kicking him in the ribs.

“No!” I scramble to my feet and launch myself at them. “Leave him alone. Fuck off!”

I kick and punch, but there are three of them, and Seth is out for the count, clutching his leg, his face white like paper.

Whatever happens to me, I need to draw them away from him. This is about me, and it’s perfectly clear in my mind that, if one of us has to die tonight, it has to be me.

Another blow catches me in the side, and I hiss at the burning pain. Grabbing my assailant’s bat, I drag him away from Seth. Pulling the bat toward me, I kick him in the shin, and as his grip loosens, I take the bat and swing at the other two.

One of them is Simon—huge, pissed and with a gun sticking out of his belt.

It’s ridiculous. I’m outnumbered, Simon wants my hide, and my only chance is to lead them to the main street where others might see them and help me. My only saving grace is that Simon doesn’t seem intent on putting a bullet through me. He wants to play, wants to see me rolling in pain, crawling and begging.

“Come on, Simon,” I goad him. “Come get me.”

He works his jaw, hefts the bat. “You little shit. You thought you could betray me? Report me? Thought I wouldn’t know?”

Yeah, he’s pissed all right.

“I was never loyal to you in the first place, motherfucker.” I spit at him, saliva and blood. I think one of my teeth is loose. “You think you can beat up whoever stands in your way? Fuck you.”

He says nothing, moving in—for the kill, I think, and I swing the bat as I back away, toward the main street. At least they’ve left Seth alone. Simon’s beef is with me.

Good.

Block, parry—with a fucking bat, dammit, never imagined how heavy the motherfuckers could be—and I’m damn glad for those self-defense lessons Rafe gives us every week at the gym. Only, I have two thugs battering down on me, and the third guy…

Dammit, where is the third guy?

I lift my bat to block more blows, arms rapidly growing heavy, as I try to spot him. I manage to protect my side from yet another incoming, sidestep a kick—

A blow on the head from behind drops me like a stone. I hit the ground hard once again. I think I see people heading toward us and yell for help, but I’m not even sure I make it as darkness swirls in my eyes.

Oh fuck, is the last thing that goes through my mind, and then it’s quiet.

***

Stench of chemicals and air so cold and dry it strips all moisture from your eyes.

Fucking joy.

Yeah, I hate hospitals. Although I’ve only ever been here for the tests I had, to make sure I haven’t caught any nasty disease from my previous lifestyle, I hate them.

Lifestyle. That’s what the doc called it when he ordered the tests. Made it sound like a choice. Like an option.

“How’s Seth?” I ask for the hundredth time, and I’m again ignored. “Is his leg broken?”

“The doctor will be right with you in a second,” the nurse reassures me.

As if that’s what I’ve been asking her. The hell.

“Look, I’m fine. I just wanna check on my friend, okay?”

“Please stay here until the doctor arrives to examine you.” She gives me a stern look and goes away, closing the door behind her.

The fuck I will. I get up, slightly dizzy but well enough to walk, thank you very much. An arm wrapped around my ribs, my lower back burning like fire, aches blooming in every part of my body, I make my slow way out of the small room.

Need to find Seth. A ball of dread has settled in my gut. I’m afraid they aren’t telling me what the fuck’s wrong with him.

Because of me. He’s in here because of me.

Fucking hell.

I find another nurse on the way. She seems startled to see me wandering about, and she says something to that end, but I cut her off.

“I’m fine. I need to find Seth. Seth Tucker. I’m family.”

She opens her mouth to say something, seems to think better of it, and leads the way. She opens a door and hesitates. “Seth Tucker… he’s been admitted here before, a few months back. Another beating. You say you’re family. Is it someone in the house who’s beating you boys up?”

I’m touched by her concern. Her hazel eyes are kind.

“No, I say, it’s just—”

“Bad luck,” Seth says from inside the room, and I push the door open all the way. “Motherfucker, I’ve been asking and asking about you and nobody would fucking tell me where you were.”

The nurse departs, saying something about the doctor, and I take in Seth’s state.

Well, apart from the new cast on his leg, he doesn’t seem too bad for wear. Of course, that cast is a big thing. Hard to miss.

“Broken, huh?” I sink on the bed, bone-weary. “Shit.”

“Told you I got shit for luck.” He shoots me a crooked grin. “Not your fault.”

Yeah, right.

Goddammit. Seth is still recovering from the beating he got from Ev’s psychotic ex-boyfriend, and now this.

“I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so damn sorry.”

“Shut up, J. I said it’s not your fault. In fact, I’m glad to see you alive. I swear I thought they’d kill you, and I couldn’t even move.” He winces as he shifts on the bed, and I remember the thugs kicking him and beating him with the bats. “We need to change lifestyle, buddy. Somewhere tropical with palm trees and cocktails would do in a pinch.”

Lifestyle. That word again. I reach up to rub the back of my head and everything hurts. My side, my arm, my head. Ow, the back of my head is killing me. I can feel a lump there. My jaw hurts like a bitch, and I bet I have a black eye from the blow.

Christ. That was close. A shiver travels through me, and I do my best to hide it, gripping the edge of the narrow hospital bed.

“I need to talk to the police.”

***

The doctor proclaims me well enough to leave, filling out a prescription of strong painkillers and instructions to return if I experience double vision or nausea. A policeman—detective? Not sure—comes by to take our statement, and he leaves thoughtful after I explain to him my history with Simon and his position in the street hierarchy.

Before he leaves, though, he assures me Simon is going to jail, and will go on trial, and that’s good. It’s all I need to know right now.

Because I have just found out, by chance, that Mel is here, too. Mel Carter, the owner of the taco joint. My friend.

He had a heart attack soon after I left work. Not a very bad one, and it looks like he’s gonna be okay. His family’s here. His niece is apparently living in Madison, and she was listed as next of kin. She’s sitting by his side right now, and he’s smiling at her, partly proud, partly wistful. One hundred percent pleased.

And also pale. Sickly. So different, and yet the same guy who offered me food and a temporary shelter in bad times.

I’ve been peeking in from the half-open door. I don’t want to interrupt, and I don’t want him seeing me like this, limping, covered in scrapes and bruises.

Don’t want to intrude. He’s finally gotten back what he longed for: His family. His niece is telling him her father is on his way. They’ll reconcile. He’ll be with them.

I guess he’ll move back to the farm. Close down the taco joint. He won’t need me around anymore. Yeah, so I’m really happy for him. Fucking glad.

Doesn’t make it any easier, though. I walk away, wandering blindly through the hospital, through brightly lit passages and halls, not knowing where I’m going and not giving a damn.