“Okay fine. But here’s how I see it.” I leaned onto the counter and mimicked his stance. “I am going to use the brand new fancy camera and…I’m going to love it.”
“Now we’re talking. Case closed.”
“No no no—not so fast. I am going to use it and love it, but I am going to pay you back for it. Every penny. As soon as I can save up enough.”
“Fuck no,” he said. “I’ll just burn the money.”
“I don’t care what you do with it. I’m still paying you.”
“Then, I’ll just use it to buy you something else.”
“Then, I’ll just pay you for that, too,” I said.
“You’re impossible, you know that?” Jake asked.
“Yes, I do know that.” I smiled. “Now, make me some food. I’m starving.”
“I believe we have some business to get out of the way first?”
“What business?”
He smiled back. “Secrets first, then dinner.”
“Oh yeah...secrets.” I was getting bolder around him, and I liked it. “Go!”
“Why don’t you like to be touched?”
“Pass,” I answered. “Why did you buy two throw-away cell phones today?”
“Pass,” he answered. “What’s your middle name?”
“Marie.” I already knew his was Francis. I’d seen it on the papers Miss Thornton had showed me. So, I didn’t bother asking. “Why do you carry a gun?”
“I’ve answered this one for you before. Because there are some dangerous people out there.”
“Yeah. But you’ve never said if you were one of them or not.”
“What if I am?” he asked. I had the feeling that he was completely serious. “Would it matter?”
Would it matter?
I wasn’t sure. “I’ll have to think about that one.”
Jake grabbed another beer from the fridge. “Now we can eat! What’ll it be—steak or pasta?”
“Steak,” I said. “The answer to that question is always steak.”
“Good answer. I love a girl with an appetite.” He went about prepping for dinner, but his words hung heavy in my mind. I love a girl with an appetite. Who did he see me as? A girl he was caring for, or a friend he was helping out?
Could I be something more to him?
Of course, I couldn’t be someone more. I was barely able to think about that kind of relationship, let alone be in one. Besides, Jake was the kind of guy that girls threw themselves at for a chance to be touched by him.
Why would he ever want one who was only capable of running from that?
While Jake cooked and plated the most beautiful steak and roasted asparagus I’d ever seen, I thought about the game of secrets we were playing.
As much as it was meant for us to learn about each other, it seemed as if the only thing it really did was expose which secrets we fully intended to keep.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A LOUD CRASH WOKE ME. The little blue digital clock on the nightstand read two-fourteen a.m. I sat up straight, my heart racing.
What was that?
My eyes strained as I tried to see through the dark. The door knob slowly screeched as someone turned it from the kitchen side of the door. I pulled the covers up to my chin. I wanted to ask who was there, but when I opened my mouth the words caught in my throat. There was something too familiar about the entire situation. It stopped me in my tracks. The knob began to jiggle violently when whoever it was out there realized it was locked. They weren’t too happy about it.
Please be Jake. Please be Jake.
I froze. I felt like I was watching a movie when the bedroom door sprang open, and pieces of wood flew from the hinges. The dark outline of a man appeared in the shadows.
“There you are, you little shit!” The deep voice was slurred and filled with bitterness. “You think you can come back here and hide from me, do you? You think I wouldn’t know where you were?”
The smell of whiskey hit my nose right before the man lunged forward and wrapped his massive hand around my arm, squeezing tight enough to cut off circulation to my fingers. My entire arm burned at the sensation of his touch, like he had doused me with gasoline and set fire to it. I tried to pull away, but he was too strong. His powerful grip held me still. I tried to scream, but I couldn’t catch my breath. It was so dark I didn’t even see his fist flying toward my face. A shattering pain rippled across my right cheek, my jaw bone vibrated from the blow.
Just as quickly as the beating had started, it ended. The man flew off me like he was attached to a rope that had been yanked backward. He crashed into the closet, knocking both doors from their hinges. They snapped in half as he landed inside, a tangle in the clothes and hangers.
Moonlight shone through the window, highlighting the pure rage on Jake’s face as he stood over the man in the closet. His usually-blue eyes were as dark as the surrounding night. He wore only a pair of black draw-string sweat pants. His chest and feet were bare.
He knelt next to the man crumpled in the closet, placing his hand behind his neck and forcing him to look in my direction. “Look at her, old man!” Jake commanded. I held the sheets up around my chest, one hand clutching my cheek. It throbbed in time with my racing pulse. “Does that look like me, Frank? Does she look like someone you can get drunk and beat up on, you stupid old man?”
A look of horror crossed the old man’s face. His shoulders slumped as he closed his eyes and shook his head. “I thought…” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.” He dropped his face in his hands and started to cry.
“Are you sorry for beating on her, or are you just sorry it wasn’t me? Cause either way, your apology don’t make shit better. What a piece of shit you are, coming here in the middle of the night, tanked off your ass. What part of this seemed like a good idea to you, you stupid fuck? You could have killed her!” Jake pulled his pistol from the back of his sweats and held the barrel to the old man’s temple. He leaned down close and looked the old man in the eyes. “I'm here because you have fucked up everything Mom worked for her entire life.”
Mom?
“I’m here so the house she loved, the home you spend your time rotting in, doesn’t end up with the tax collector, and Reggie and Bo don’t end up on the fucking unemployment line. Because you sure as shit don’t seem to give a fuck about anything but drinking whiskey and wallowing in your own shit.” He cocked the gun.
My breath hitched.
This man was Jake’s dad...
The old man kept his eyes closed while Jake continued through gritted teeth. “While I’m in town, you are never to come here again, and if you so much as lay a fucking finger on Abby, I will blow your motherfucking head off.” As he spoke the last words, he nudged the gun against the old man’s temple, pushing his head against the wall of the closet. “You’re lucky I don’t just end you now, you sorry bastard.”
“Just kill me, then!” The old man cried. “Just fucking kill me, boy!” His face reddened, strings of saliva connected his top and bottom teeth.
Jake yanked the old man up by the back of his shirt. “Not today, old man,“ he said. Then he shoved him stumbling toward the hall and out of the room. The front door squealed open, then slammed shut.
Once again, there was only silence.
Some people threaten others in the heat of the moment, or as a reaction to an argument. I’ve heard boys fist-fighting in school threaten to kill each other while they traded blows in the parking lot after class. I know what that sounds like. But there was something different about Jake’s threats to his father, and it was more than just the obvious gun pointed at his head. This hadn’t sounded like the random anger of someone caught up in the heat of a moment, or the idle ravings of someone who had no intentions of following through on them. Jake’s words were solid descriptions of what was to come if the old man didn’t stay away. They weren’t threats at all.
They were promises.
***
Sleep was impossible after that. Not only was my mind racing, but my cheek exploded in pain every time I turned on my side. The pillow might as well have been stuffed with concrete.
The silence was interrupted when Jake came back into the apartment. The front door squeaked. Keys fell onto the coffee table. I could tell he was trying to be quiet, but even the cricket outside the window sounded like he was playing his song on a trombone.
Jake came into the room. As soon as he looked at me he cursed. “Shit.” He turned back around, disappearing down the hall, and I heard him fiddling around in the kitchen. Drawers slammed shut, the contents rolling and rattling as he searched for what he needed. Then, he appeared again holding a plastic sandwich bag filled with ice. He sat next to me and reached out to place the ice pack on my cheek. I grabbed it from him before he could make contact.
“I got it,” I assured him. “Thanks.” I placed the ice pack against my face, cringing at the sting of the cold.
“Bee, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think he would ever come here, let alone in the middle of the fucking night. Nobody’s seen him in almost a year. I don’t even know how he knew I was here.” He leaned in closer. “Are you okay?” There was hurt and concern in his voice.