by S. E. Law
Unfortunately, after finding out I was pregnant, Herb spent months calling me a whore, a tramp, a slut – any name he could think of. He desperately wanted me to have an abortion, but I refused. Jamie was all I had left of Jace, and there was no way I would give him up. Nothing my dad could say would convince me, and fortunately, Herb talked to his pastor, who convinced him that the baby was innocent. Even with Jace as the father, the baby could be untainted.
So I’m lucky in a way. I don’t have my man anymore, but I have his perfect, angelic son. I live and die for Jamie, and he’s the only thing that keeps me going on in this life.
“What do you want to do today?” I ask with a smile. I don’t like being sad around my son because he really is the only bright spot in this dismal house. We have a pretty basic routine that, when my dad is home, we rarely deviate from. But today, with a little imagination, the possibilities are endless.
The little boy pulls a face.
“Do I have to do school stuff?” He sounds hopeful and blinks at me with an innocent expression.
I tilt my head to the side because it is a weekday and, normally, after breakfast, I start with lessons. Jamie is homeschooled and today, we would be doing basic addition, maybe with some subtraction thrown in at the end to show him what’s next on the syllabus. Putting together lesson plans is a bit of a struggle for me, but the internet helps to guide me through quite a bit of it. My only worry is what is going to happen when Jamie surpasses my own knowledge. Homeschooling won’t be enough then, but for now, I’m not going to worry about that because a day off could be fun.
“We could do school stuff,” I say slowly, “or we could have ice cream for breakfast, jump on the bed, paint, or go for a swim. Whatever you want.” Jamie flops back on the bed and looks up at the ceiling as he thinks about what to do. His little feet bounce up and down in anticipation. Sometimes I can’t believe this beautiful boy came from inside me. What are the chances?
He thinks some more and then grins.
“Can we have ice cream for breakfast first?” he asks brightly. I make a face like I’m really considering whether or not I’m going to say yes and then I attack his tummy with tickles.
“Of course we can, baby!” He wiggles around, pushing at my hands and giggling.
“Mommy, nooooo!” His laughter always makes me go warm inside, and I smile widely. But then I get up, and motion for him to follow. We go to the bathroom where I watch him brush his teeth and wash his face, and then Jamie turns around so I can do a quick inspection.
“Everything looks good, baby. Great job,” I tell him approvingly. We head downstairs, and I get the ice cream out of the back of the fridge where it’s hidden. It’s our favorite – mint chocolate chip. I had to get one of the staff to secretly buy it because my dad would never let us have something so ‘extravagant.’
With a big smile, I put two bowls on the table and spoon out a couple of scoops for the two of us. Giggling with laughter, Jamie grabs his spoon and digs in, making an almost immediate mess on his face. I watch him go to town on his entire bowl, but it’s okay. This is a vacation day for us. I’m not hungry, so I let him take my bowl and eat the half scoop that’s left. He’s going to be wired for the next couple hours which means I’m going to need to work all this energy out of him.
“Let’s go to the trampoline, next,” I suggest with a bright smile.
“Yeah!” he squeals.
I wipe the melted ice cream from his face and then send him upstairs to get changed while I clear the dishes and re-hide the ice cream. I sit back down at the kitchen table while waiting for Jamie to come back down dressed for playtime. It’s my greatest desire to give my son a “normal” childhood, unlike the one I had. When he was just a baby, it was a lot easier to hide the reality of our life from him. But each day, it’s getting harder and harder to keep him away from my father. I can’t have my son’s spirit broken by Herb Jones. I won’t allow it.
Jamie runs back to the kitchen, ready to get a whole lot of exercise in. We’re both in sweatpants and shirts because it’s basically our daily uniform. Since we don’t get out much, there isn’t much reason to wear anything special.
“Come on Mommy!” he cries excitedly.
My son hands me my shoes, and we both put ours on. Heading outside, we go to where the trampoline is set up. I convinced my dad to have one put in – if I was going be forced to homeschool Jamie, then I’d make sure I did my best. Fortunately, Herb agreed, probably because having an over-excited toddler around wore on his nerves.
We make it to the trampoline, and I help my son get up before we begin jumping. I bounce on the trampoline with my butt before sending him flying into the air over and over. It doesn’t take long for Jamie and me to become a mess of laughter and smiles. It also doesn’t take long for us to get in that workout. When we’re good and tired, the two of us lay on the black surface, staring peacefully up at the sky. It’s a beautiful clear day, and I wish this could be every day.
My son speaks shyly.
“Mommy?”
“Yes, sweetie?”
“Are we going to live here forever?”
I hesitate for a moment. If my dad has his way, then the answer would be yes, but I turn to my son to look deep into his eyes. They’re so blue and remind me of Jace once more. But I swallow the lump in my throat because this isn’t the time.
“Can you keep a secret, Jamie?” He nods furiously, clearly wanting to know what I’m about to say. “Well, one day, we’re going to move far away and get our own house and it’ll just be us. Doesn’t that sound nice?”
He nods furiously.
“I like that.”
“You do?” My son nods again, staring innocently into my eyes. “Then I’ll do my best to make it happen,” is my promise.
We clasp hands while lying in the sun for a little while longer, soaking it its rays. I can see Jamie starting to doze off, and it’s sweet with his head lolling against my shoulder. Not wanting to disturb him, I move carefully in order to pick him up and carry him back inside.
I put Jamie down on one of the couches and get a few ingredients to make lunch. While I’m cooking, there’s a stirring behind me. Assuming it’s Clara, the maid, I call out a quiet but friendly, “Hello!”
Instead, a raspy voice intrudes.
“Well, well, you sound cheery today.” Ugh. I turn around to see my mother. When my dad isn’t here, Irene rarely comes down from her room. Come to think of it, even when he is here, she tries to stay in her room as much as possible. She’s like the ghost that haunts the attic of the Jones estate.
“Good morning, Mother,” I say courteously. The one thing I have to give Irene credit for is the fact that she’s always perfectly groomed. I don’t know how she keeps up such a flawless appearance at all times, morning, noon, and night. But somehow, Irene always manages to look like an ice-cold Grace Kelly. It’s impressive in its own way.
“I saw Jamie sleeping in the living room,” she reprimands me. “You forgot to take off his shoes, so I did it for you.”
I nod, without meeting her eyes.
“Thanks, Mom.”
She takes a seat on one of the chairs.
“What are you two doing today?” I turn back to the meal I’m making, not really wanting to look at her.
“I’m not really sure. I’m letting Jamie decide what he wants to do. It’s all part of the home-schooling. Self-direction and all that.”
“Hm,” is all I get in response. The judgment behind it is very apparent because everything Irene says is laced with judgment. But before I can reply, she leaves the kitchen, disappearing like a ghost. I guess that was the end of the conversation. I’ve never known whether or not my mom actually loves me because we live in such a prison. Sometimes, I think she’s more like a cellmate than a mother. Sometimes, I think she blames me for our situation.
Jamie wanders into the kitchen next as I’m putting lunch on the table. He rubs his eyes as he looks at what I’ve prepared.
“It lo
oks yummy, Mommy!” my son exclaims. I’ve made us some cheesy noodles, one of my son’s favorite meals.
Together, we while away the rest of the day in bliss. While our situation isn’t perfect, spending time with Jamie is its own type of heaven. After all, he’s all I have of the man that I once loved, even if we’re no longer in contact. Unbidden, my thoughts wander. Where is Jace now? What would he do if he knew he had a son? My heart contracts with pain, but I make myself smile through tears at the beautiful boy who looks just like the man from so long ago.
6
Jace
“Jace, come to bed,” commands Chloe. I try to stifle the urge to snap at her. I don’t even know what she’s doing in my bed, and my jaw tenses with frustration.
The last seven years haven’t been great. After my passionate encounter with Haley, she disappeared from my life. That’s the only way to put it. I called her, texted her, and tried to reach out to her for days. But she never responded. It was complete radio silence.
Did I fuck up somehow? I mean, I thought we had a great time in the back of my pick-up truck. Granted, it’s not exactly the most romantic place, and especially not for a virgin’s first time, but I thought she enjoyed herself. At least, that’s what she told me, and I asked a bunch of times too. There was a smear of red on my dick after I got home, but from the moans and excited gasps, I thought Haley enjoyed it.
But evidently, I was wrong. I messed up. Haley didn’t like it and had a change of heart. I dropped her off that night with the feel of her kisses still warm on my lips, her scent still clinging to my clothes, and then I never heard from her again.
At first, it was hard to believe. She’d just proclaimed her devotion to me, after all, and we were going to escape to New York together. But Haley ghosted me after that. What the hell? Summoning my courage, I went to her house and tried to find her, but her asshole of a dad ran me off.
“She doesn’t want to see you,” Herb snarled, standing at their front door with his arms crossed belligerently over his chest. “You took her innocence, isn’t that enough? Why can’t you leave my daughter alone?”
“Sir,” I stammered. “I just want to talk to her. Please, can I see her for a few minutes?”
“Leave,” Herb snapped. “You’re a fucking low-class piece of trash. Why don’t you get it? She doesn’t want to see you.”
My heart hammered in my chest. How could this be possible? The woman I loved more than life evidently wanted me gone. I didn’t believe it at first. I continued to text, call, and even skulk around the Jones mansion. But she never replied. Haley ghosted me, and seemed to know exactly how to avoid me. My beautiful girl never even came out of the house because it was as if she knew I was lurking about the bushes. I really fucked up, and the experience broke me.
With a numb mind and body, I left Lenville. I graduated and moved away to the big city by myself. That entire period of my life is cast in grey because I was gloomy and depressed. Somehow, New York lost its sheen because I didn’t have Haley by my side. The Empire State Building was just another building; Grand Central was just another railroad station; and nothing about the town could cheer me up. Without Haley, I was a nobody.
But somehow, I went through the motions. I got an entry-level job at a brokerage, and since I had no friends, no family, and no girlfriend, I threw myself into the work 24/7. It wasn’t easy. The suits looked down on a country boy wet behind the ears and weren’t exactly tripping over one another to show me the ropes. But I didn’t care because I didn’t care what happened to me anymore. I worked harder than ever, and let the insults roll off my back.
After a couple years, the fruits of my efforts began to show. I was promoted, and then promoted again. Then I made managing director, and a couple years back, I started my own hedge fund. It was a wild success, probably because I have a reputation as a take-no-prisoners sonofabitch asshole. Now, the money flows non-stop, and I have so much that it’s become meaningless.
But I haven’t found peace and contentment. My mind turns to Haley every now and then, and bitterness still makes me catch my breath. Why did she refuse to see me? What did I do that was so wrong? I hate to say it, but I’ve never gotten over the beautiful girl. She cast some kind of spell on me.
But I can’t remain mired on the past, so I met women, dated, and did the whole man about town thing. As a good-looking finance bro, I’ve got women throwing themselves at me non-stop. Thus, Chloe in my bed now. I picked her up at some restaurant a couple months back, and now she wants attention non-stop.
“Jace,” she mewls, throwing the coverlet back to expose her nude body. “We can still have fun tonight.” She’s thin. Too thin. I wish she’d eat more, but the woman seems to subsist on spinach and cauliflower morning, noon, and night.
“Naw, I’ve got to get going. I have a flight early tomorrow. Raincheck?” I ask, already turning away. I’m rubbing my eye in a thin attempt to keep my cool.
She pouts but knows the routine. I never realized how whiny she was. I don’t let her stay the night. In fact, I don’t let any women stay the night at my penthouse because it’s not what I want. These women don’t hold a candle to my first love, and it just feels wrong to sleep in the same bed.
“Fine,” Chloe says with a roll of her eyes while reaching for her dress. “I’ll see you when you get back?” It’s less of a question, and more of a demand. One I will not meet.
I just shrug, though, and leave the room to let her get herself together. There’s no sense in actually promising anything, because it means she would get her hopes up. It’s better to leave things open-ended.
Striding to my home office, I log onto my computer. The excuse about a flight was real, even if at the moment, I don’t actually have a flight booked yet. It’s no problem. I’ve got a private plane, and with a touch of the keys, I send a request to my personal pilot letting him know to file a flight plan for South Carolina ASAP.
Chloe strides out of my room. Of course, the woman’s got five-inch heels and full make-up already. She has an expensive purse clutched under her arm, and I manage a tight smile before snapping my computer shut, not wanting her to see what’s on the screen. I’m sure she’ll make someone else very happy. It’s just not going to be me.
“Are you sure you don’t want to have a little more fun?” she whines. She turns around, the zipper on her dress fully exposing her back. I sigh but get up and close it for her. Her shoulders deflate when it’s done, but she swivels back with a sultry smile on her lips.
“You want to zip that back down? All it takes is a second,” she purrs. Ugh. I shoot her a freezing cold smile.
“No, like I said, I have an early flight tomorrow. Get home safe, okay babe?”
She throws her arms over my shoulder and pushes out her bottom lip. We’re in the hallway now standing before the elevators, and I sigh because Chloe’s last-ditch effort is simply hopeless. Tonight was maybe my fifth time out with the woman, and I understand why she wants things to work. But I’m just not there with her and I’m never going to get there.
“Look, going out with you has been fun, and I had a good time with you tonight, but I don’t think we want the same things.” It’s a line I’ve used repeatedly over the past seven years. Every woman reacts differently, and it looks like Chloe is angry. She scoffs, giving me a disgusted look.
“Of course you’re saying that. My friend Sandra – whom you probably don’t remember – told me you were a dick. She said you slept with her and then dropped her without a second thought – like you probably do with all the women you seduce. I bet you don’t even know my name. Hmm? Do you? Tell me what my name is,” she challenges.
Actually, I do know her name, and I do remember Sandra. The other woman was a little nicer when I broke it off, but I could tell she was hurt. Man, I’ve really got a knack for picking the wrong women given that there’s so much gossip now.
“Well, Chloe,” her eyes go wide when I say her name. Surprise, surprise, I’m not the total asshole sh
e thinks I am, “I’m sorry you feel that way, but maybe you made a bit of a mistake sleeping with your friend’s sloppy seconds. Especially after she warned you.” The emotions that pass over the blonde woman’s face vary wildly, but it ends with inflamed anger.
“Ugh, you’re a piece of shit. I hope you like being alone because that’s what you deserve.” With a huff, she flounces into the elevator and then the doors slide closed. I rub my temples, upset with myself for making an error in judgment. It’s something I don’t do very often on the job, but my social life is another story. Instead of thinking about this mess, I call the concierge and let him know what’s coming.
“Mr. King, how may I help you?”
“Hi, Robert. A very angry blonde woman is about to be downstairs, leaving in a huff. She’s in a navy-blue dress and bright pink heels. Could you please make sure she gets a cab and that it’s charged to me? Her name is Chloe. Trust me, you’ll know her when you see her.”
“No problem, sir. Is that all?”
“It is. If she gives you any trouble, please don’t hesitate to call me. Thanks, Robert.”
“Of course. You’re welcome, sir.” I hang up and pour myself some whiskey. Maybe that burn in my throat will do… something. At dinner tonight, one of the partners made a comment about how all my dates look “different, and yet the same.” I know it was a joke, but still. Have I really been filling my time with vapid city girls to get my mind off the one that got away?
It’s a little sad, but after seven years of misery, I’ve summoned the courage to go and see Haley. The big bad billionaire is making his way home in order to check on the girl who left him. What am I expecting really? I know I want to show off a little. I want her to see what she missed, and to take in my obvious wealth. I want her to know I have a private plane, and that I live in a penthouse in the most expensive city in the world. That I, Jace King, could have given her all those things. Even more, I want her to know that I really am good enough.
