Jed Had to Die

Jed’s voice through the door and the shit he’s spilling from his mouth immediately put an end to my fear and replace it with anger. I made a promise to my friend that everything would be okay, and there’s no way I’m going to stand here like a coward and not do anything about it. Jed Jackson might have been able to push his wife around all these years, and he might have been able to cast his spell over all of Bald Knob, but that shit doesn’t fly with me. If I can handle a bunch of hipster college kids making a mockery of coffee, I can handle a pencil dick asshole who makes himself feel powerful by picking on someone smaller and weaker than him. I am neither small, nor weak, and Jed Jackson just pissed off the wrong woman.

Before he continues yelling and Emma Jo hears him, I move quickly to the front door and unlock the deadbolt. With the resting bitch face I’ve perfected over the years firmly planted on my face, I fling open the door so hard that it bangs against the opposite wall.

With his black hair, sweet-looking baby face, slim build, and the few inches of height he has on me, throw a football jersey and a pompous smile on his face and Jed Jackson would look just as he did in high school. Even with his slicked-back hair and three-piece suit, he still looks like he hasn’t aged a day, which I’m sure helps him charm the brains out of everyone in this town.

He quickly takes a few surprised steps back when I come stomping out of the front door, clearly confused that I’m the one who answered the door instead of his wife. I take full advantage of his momentary lapse of shouting and cursing to charge right up to him and jab my finger into his chest.

“I don’t know what kind of shit you’re trying to pull here, Jed, but Emma Jo doesn’t answer to you anymore. You put your hands on her for the last time, asshole. Do yourself a favor and get off this porch before I rip off your balls, shove them down your throat, and choke you with them,” I seethe through clenched teeth.

His eyes narrow as he looks down at me, and then he has the nerve to smile and let out a small, mocking laugh to go along with his stupid smile.

“It’s nice you can laugh about this situation. You won’t be laughing when you get a copy of the restraining order Emma Jo filed on your ass tonight, or when your worthless self is locked up behind bars,” I inform him, my whole body shaking with rage while he continues to stare down at me like I’m nothing more than a nuisance. “Pretty sure you should have checked your voicemails before you cut that important business trip short. You’ll find one from the sheriff explaining how far away you’re supposed to be from Emma Jo, and I do believe you’re in violation of the restraining order just by pulling into the driveway, you piece of shit.”

The smile on Jed’s face falls and he moves so quickly that I don’t have any time to duck or run back into the house. He advances on me like a hunter stalking his prey, his hand coming up and wrapping around my neck tightly as he shoves me backward. My feet move automatically to keep up with him so I don’t trip until I slam into the side of the house next to the open front door with a gasp when pain radiates up my spine.

“Payton Lambert, still just as much of a trouble-maker as you were in high school,” Jed speaks lowly, moving his face down until his nose is almost touching mine.

He squeezes my neck harder until I see spots at the edge of my vision. My heart is back to beating double-time as I struggle to take in air and bring my hands up between us to claw at the back of his hand.

“It’s been so nice and peaceful without you here the last twelve years. Too bad you weren’t smart enough to stay gone. You have no idea what kind of trouble you just brought on yourself by sticking your nose in something that doesn’t concern you,” he threatens with a sick and twisted smile, tightening his hold on my neck to yank me forward.

I’m too busy trying not to pass out from lack of oxygen that my body moves like a ragdoll, flopping bonelessly when he pulls me toward him, and again when he shoves me back. My head slams against the vinyl siding with a thump that jars my teeth and brings tears to my eyes.

I definitely underestimated Jed. My overconfidence and anger about what he’s done to my friend made me act without thinking. I should have known better than to come charging out here. I’ve seen what he did to Emma Jo, and she never mouthed off to him or fought back. God only knows what he’ll do to someone who tried to stand up to him.

I can’t scream for help because he’s clutching my neck so tightly that I’m pretty sure he’s two seconds away from collapsing my vocal chords. Or killing me. And if I could scream, would any of the people in this town come help? Starla Godfrey, who was older than dirt when I lived here, is within shouting distance, but she probably heard me curse at her damn dog earlier and wouldn’t help me if she wasn’t a thousand years old. Mr. and Mrs. Pickerson still live on the other side of Emma Jo’s house, but Mrs. Pickerson once caught me squatting in her backyard after drinking seven wine coolers and not being able to hold it until I got home. I’m sure she’s still pissed at me and would pull down her shades if she heard me screaming. And then there’s Frank and Teresa Jefferson who live across the street. I used to babysit for their son when he was around three-years-old, but I let him watch Mean Girls with me when it first came out and he took to yelling at his mother, “Boo, you whore!” after that, so I’m pretty sure they would turn their backs on me as well.

“Now, we’re going to go inside MY house, you’re going to pack your things, and you’re going to get the fuck away from my wife. Are we clear?”