by Penny Reid
“Hey, Duane. It’s Jess. We just landed in Houston. I wanted to talk to you before we left the airport because the reception out at the farm can be spotty. It’ll take us about an hour and a half to drive out there. Call me when you get this.” She hesitated, her voice cracking a little when she added before clicking off, “I really miss you.”
The second message was short: “Hey, it’s me. We’re on the road now. Call when you can.”
And my heart was in my throat as I listened to the third message: “Hi. We’re at the farm now, this number is the direct line to the house. If you call one of the staff will answer and I left instructions that they should come get me if you do. So…call me? Did I mention I miss you? …Bye.”
I immediately hit redial, praying she’d be available to talk. As she’d warned, one of the staff picked up and placed me on hold, apparently searching the house for her.
I could feel Beau’s split attention—between me and the mountain road—and he finally asked, “Is that Jessica? What happened? Is she okay?”
“Shhh…” I didn’t want him distracting me. With each passing second I grew more agitated—with the wait and with myself for leaving the phone in Beau’s car.
But relief flooded my chest when I finally heard her voice. “Hello?”
“Jessica, it’s me. It’s Duane. I am so sorry I didn’t get your messages. My phone was in Beau’s glove compartment and…you know what, it doesn’t matter. How are you? Are you okay? Do you need me to fly out? I can leave today.”
This was a thoughtless promise and I knew Beau was looking at me like I was crazy, but I didn’t care. If she needed me I would fly out, the Wraiths and their threats could go to hell. Then they could go fuck themselves and go to hell again.
She sighed softly, but when she answered, her tone was low and stiff, like she was trying to keep from being overheard. “Thanks for calling. I…I’m glad you called.”
I paused for a second, then asked, “I’m guessing you’re with people?”
“That’s right…”
I guessed she was hoping I’d lead the conversation, do most of the talking, since she was being listened to on her end.
“Can you call me tonight? Nine my time?”
“Yes!” Her loud and enthusiastic response made me smile despite the situation. “I mean, yes. I can do that.”
“Good. You call me at nine. I’ll keep my phone on me.”
“Okay…” I heard her struggle, like she wanted to say more, something in particular. Instead she sounded resigned as she said, “Talk to you later.”
I guessed what she wanted, so I said it. “I miss you, Jessica James.”
“Me too,” she said immediately, like she was anxious I wouldn’t say the words, but relieved I had.
“I mean it, I miss you. You’re too far away. If you need me to fly out I can get on a plane tonight.”
“Don’t do that. Things are…well, anyway.” I heard her take a deep breath then say, “Okay, sounds good. Talk to you later.”
I hesitated, wondering if I should just go. In the end I decided I’d be talking to her that night and could reassess the situation then, fly out Friday if needed.
Eventually I said, “Okay, okay. We’ll talk tonight.”
“Yes. We will. Bye.”
“Bye.”
I set the phone on my lap, staring at the screen for a long minute before adding the Houston number to my contacts.
Beau exhaled loudly next to me. “You mind telling me what’s going on?”
“Jess’s aunt died. She’s in Houston, can’t make dinner tonight.”
“That’s terrible.”
I nodded absentmindedly, saving the number.
“So…no pie?”
I glared at my brother. “No. No pie for you, Beauford Fitzgerald.”
“No need for that tone, Duane Faulkner. I was just double-checking.” When I continued to glare he added, “The woman makes good pie. You can’t blame me for wanting more of it.”
“You’ll get her pie only if and when I say it’s appropriate.”
He grumbled something under his breath I didn’t catch. I ignored him in favor of glancing out the window and I saw the flashing police lights behind us through the side mirror just before the siren gave a yelp, making Beau jump in his seat.
“God in heaven!” Beau, obviously startled, frowned and squinted at his rearview mirror. “What the hell? Is that Jack?”
I nodded, grinding my teeth. Jessica’s brother Jackson was pulling us over and the hairs on the back of my neck abruptly itched. Something about the situation didn’t feel right, almost like it was an ambush, like he’d been waiting for us.
“Just pull off.” I sighed, closed my eyes, and rubbed my forehead. “Let’s get this over with.”
“I wasn’t even speeding, and this car doesn’t have a broken tail light. He is such a jackass!” My brother hit his steering wheel with obvious frustration, but slowed the car, navigating two more switchbacks before pulling carefully onto a mountain overlook.
Beau was now repeating all my earlier curse words under his breath as we waited for Jackson to approach the car. I was not surprised that Jackson, being the complete jackass that he was, shined his high-powered flashlight in Beau’s face even though the sun was still out.
“Which one of you is Duane?” he asked, then pointed the flashlight at me. I’d adverted my eyes so I wouldn’t be blinded, and was reminded how much I seriously hated this guy.
“You can’t pull cars over just because you’re looking for somebody, Jack,” Beau said, nice and friendly and with a shit-eating grin. “Not unless that person is missing or under arrest.”
“You’re Beau,” Jackson said, lifting his chin toward my brother. He redirected his attention back to me as he holstered his flashlight, still leaning against the car and into the window. “Duane, did you know my sister is out of town?”
I sat a bit straighter, surprised Jackson had pulled us over just to share his sister’s whereabouts with me, and glanced at Beau before answering. “Yes. I just spoke with her.”
“My aunt died, my momma’s sister. Jess is out in Houston with my parents, sorting everything out.”
Beau and I shared another look, and I read Beau’s thoughts perfectly because they mirrored mine, Why the hell is he telling us this?
“I know all this, Jackson. Like I said, I just spoke to Jessica.”
Jackson nodded, and I realized he was schooling his expression, keeping his tone flat. Something dark and cold settled in the pit of my stomach. This was a set up. I was sure of it. Jackson was setting me up, but for the life of me I couldn’t figure out how.
Abruptly I knew we needed to leave, before Jackson could say anything else.
“Well, thanks for the info. We’ll just be on our way.” I motioned to Beau to re-start the car.
“If you know about the funeral then I guess you know about the money, too. Right?”
I almost flinched. Almost. Instead I swallowed and nodded, bluffing. “That’s right. Know all about it. Start the car, Beau.”
Beau did as I instructed, but Jackson didn’t move away from the window. He just kept on talking.
“Oh. Did Jess tell you how she inherited all my aunt’s money? That she’s now independently wealthy and will be leaving Green Valley after Christmas?”
Beau eyebrows lifted, just a fraction of an inch, but otherwise he did an admirable job of hiding his surprise. Outwardly dispassionate, I stared at Jessica’s brother. Meanwhile my heart was beating out of my chest and I’d broken into a cold sweat.
Fear.
I was feeling fear.
The last time I felt fear, really and truly, was when my daddy locked me in the woodshed for two days with no food or water as punishment for sitting in his chair.
I couldn’t breathe.
Beau answered for me. “Like he said, Duane just talked to Jessica. He already knows all this. Now if you’ll step away from the car, we’ll be on our way home, officer.”
/> Jackson frowned, looking disappointed and confused by my lack of outward reaction, then nodded once and backed up so we could pull away.
Beau rolled up his window, being careful to check for traffic and using his blinker before pulling onto the mountain road. We drove in silence for a full minute and I was thankful for the quiet.
At first I considered the possibility that Jackson was lying. I dismissed this, as one quick call to Jess would be enough to disprove any false claims.
No, he was telling the truth.
Staff had answered the phone at her aunt’s house, now her house. It was a farm, she’d said. Jessica had mentioned horses on the property. Horses weren’t cheap to maintain. And she’d told me that her aunt had just died. She didn’t want to talk to me when others were present on her end. I pulled up the text messages she’d left earlier.
I’ll call you later today, we should talk.
I miss you.
“Fuck…” My forehead hit the window at my side. I closed my eyes as something sharp and intangible stabbed my heart. The pain was unbearable, spreading up my neck and down my spine. I held my breath, waited for it to pass.
“Did you know she was leaving? After Christmas?”
I shook my head and my voice was rough when I answered, “No. I don’t think she had plans to leave, not yet.”
“Not yet?”
“She’d planned to leave, just not yet. Not ’til she had enough money saved…”
I heard Beau mutter a curse then clear his throat. “It’s sad about her aunt.”
“Yes…it is.” I wondered if Jessica was close to her aunt. I wondered if she was hurting. As much fear and, frankly, despair I felt at the idea of Jessica leaving, the thought of her hurting, and me being powerless to help, was worse.
“Do you think it’s true? You know, Jackson is a little bitch. He could be trying to mess with you, now he knows you have it bad for his sister.”
I ignored Beau’s last statement, and addressed the former. “He’s not lying. If she had the money, she’d leave tomorrow. She told me so on our first date.”
Beau shut his mouth after that. Again I was grateful for the silence. I didn’t want to talk about Jessica leaving, debate the truth of it.
She had the means. She was leaving. There was nothing more to say.
I’d planned to ignore Jessica’s call at 9:00 by switching off my phone, letting it go to voicemail.
I wasn’t afraid of what she would say. I knew what she was going to say. I just didn’t want to hear it over the phone, when she was hundreds of miles away, and be expected to respond calmly…when all I wanted to do was rage.
I didn’t want to rage at her, didn’t want to part ways with that between us, so I’d planned to ignore her call.
I figured she’d either leave me a voicemail—tell me she was never coming back, and spare me the conversation, or she’d write me a letter—tell me she was never coming back, and spare me the conversation. Either was preferable to having the conversation because I could delete a voicemail and burn a letter, but I couldn’t take back words said in anger.
Regardless, my good intentions were ignored, because when she called I answered.
“Duane?”
“Jessica.”
I heard her sigh when I responded, like she was relieved I’d answered. Meanwhile, I couldn’t swallow even though my throat was on fire.
“Oh my goodness, it is so good to hear your voice. I know I texted it to you and left you a voicemail, but I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed you. I…” I heard her sigh again, then sniffle. When she spoke next her voice was full of tears. “Duane, I need to tell you something.”
“Go ahead.” I imagined this is what it was like just after the hangman’s noose was fitted over one’s neck, but just before the floor gave way beneath the condemned. I knew the end was coming. I wondered if the finality of it would be a relief or a burden.
But then she said, “Duane Winston, I love you.”
I opened my mouth to respond to the words I’d expected to hear—we were over, she had her means and she was leaving sooner rather than later—but the reality of what she’d actually said rendered me speechless. I stared ahead, frowning at the wall of my room, feeling like she’d just thrown my swim shorts up a tree.
“I love you and I’m in love with you and I realize you’re probably upset with me for saying it over the phone, but something happened, I found out something…and I felt like I needed to tell you. Like you needed to know. I love you. Life is so short, too short for secrets and things left unsaid. I know we haven’t been together very long, but I’ve known you most of my life and I think I’ve always loved you, even though you were ornery and mean and argumentative. Even though you were never the safe choice…”
Now she was crying, big, heavy sobs, making my chest ache in response. My fingers tightened on the phone. I wanted to hold her, soothe away her pain, but she was a thousand miles away and I wasn’t prepared for this conversation. I hadn’t planned on her love, hadn’t counted on it.
More accurately, I hadn’t thought it was in the realm of possibility.
Maybe Jackson had been lying. Maybe she had no plans to leave after Christmas. Maybe she did. But if she had the means to go, then I was the only reason she would consider delaying…
I didn’t feel elation at this news. I felt only misery.
“So…I love you,” Jessica repeated for a fifth time. I closed my eyes, shaking my head, rejecting the chant that called to my soul—bone deep—and tempted me with my own destruction, and hers as well.
Still unable to swallow, I cleared my throat instead and closed my eyes, gathering my resolve. Self-preservation finally kicked in and I knew what I needed to do.
“Jess, we’ll talk when you get back. Okay?” My voice was steady and calm.
A muffled sob sounded from the other end and I nearly relented, I nearly gave in and told her how I loved her, how I adored her. But then I forced myself to imagine how she might look at me five or ten years from now. I would be the source of her misery because I would be the focus of her resentment.
My mother had looked at my father that way. He’d been the thief of her dreams, of her life. She’d loved us kids, but we all knew she’d longed for more. That road wasn’t one I was willing to travel.
“Okay,” she said finally, her voice small and dejected.
“Okay. Bye, Jess.”
It took her another moment and I knew she was covering the phone with her hand, possibly so I couldn’t hear her cry; but then she said in a rush, “Goodbye, Duane,” and hung up the phone.
I removed the cell from my ear and stared at the screen, at the number I’d saved earlier in the day, one I’d labeled as Jessica – Texas funeral.
I’d been an idiot.
Jessica wasn’t going to break my heart.
I was going to break hers.
Chapter 20
“Travel brings wisdom only to the wise. It renders the ignorant more ignorant than ever.”
Joe Abercrombie, Last Argument of Kings
~Duane~
With a dark cloud over my head, Beau and I arrived at the Pink Pony at 10:30 p.m. The lot was full, but that wasn’t unusual. This place was by far the best strip club in eastern Tennessee. I was no connoisseur, but Beau was, and I trusted his opinion.
The interior of the Pink Pony was mostly pink. The walls were pink, as were the carpet, tables, and chairs. The dancing platforms were a shiny black lacquer, and four white fiberglass carousel ponies decorated the stage. Girls would use the attached carousel poles in their act, and sometimes they would “ride” the ponies.
I knew the bouncer on duty from my days of picking up Tina after work. He waved us in and I immediately crossed to the bar. I didn’t notice any of it as we entered—the glitz, the tits, the girls, the patrons. Hank typically manned the bar on weeknights. We’d need his permission to go backstage and I wanted to get this over with.
As soon as he saw me he ga
ve me a smile that was equal parts pleased and disappointed. He finished pouring two shots from a bottle with a black label then crossed to meet us.
“Aww, man. I was hoping to never see you here again.” He reached his hand out and shook mine over the bar, politely ignoring my foul mood, then turned to my brother. “Beau, are we still fishing on Sunday?”
“Yep. Butt crack of dawn,” Beau shouted over the noise, sliding onto one of the stools, and grinning at his old friend.
Hank was four years our senior. Growing up, he was only around for the summers; his parents shipped him off to boarding school during the year. Now he was living it up, a Harvard business school graduate turned local strip club owner, and a source of extreme embarrassment to his parents.
“Based on your phone call last week, I’m guessing you’re here to see Tina?” He sounded like he hoped his assumption was wrong.
“I’ll take some whiskey first.” I pulled a twenty out of my wallet and lifted my chin to the Jack Daniel's behind him.
I didn’t miss the way Hank glanced at Beau, as though asking for permission, before turning for the bottle on the wall and pouring three shots.
“One for each of us?” Beau leaned forward and passed me one of the small glasses.
“Nope.” Hank shook his head. “Duane here gets three shots and that’s it. I’m pouring them now so he won’t ask for more later. And they’re on the house.”
I wasn’t going to argue. If and when I wanted to get drunk it wouldn’t be at the Pink Pony right before talking to Tina Patterson about serious business.
“Thanks.” I passed one of the shots to Beau. “Here. I only want two.”
I picked up my shot and lifted it, but before I could down the amber liquid, Beau clinked his glass against mine and said, “To making new plans, better plans.”
I stared at my brother for a long moment and he held my glare. I appreciated the sentiment even though I was disposed to reject it in my present mood. I’d spent so long wishing for something that ultimately brought me misery.
No…I wouldn’t be making any more plans. Not for a while.
