The Set Up

by Kim Karr

  Cass Corridor had bigger things to worry about.

  As I’m digging in my pocket, one of the reporters gets closer. “Mr. Storm, is Charlotte Lane here to teach you how to blow up your new plant once it’s running?”

  Fuck this!

  Handing Jake my keys, I stride around and do just what Will has been drilling in my head all week not to do. Lose my shit. Grabbing the reporter by his shirt collar, I shove him backward, right into the photographer. “Go fuck yourself,” I growl.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” the fat fuck says, getting to his feet.

  “Is it true?” someone else is yelling in the distance.

  The crowd is growing nearer. Everyone is shouting different ridiculous accusations my way. It’s turning into a riotous scene.

  Done with all of them, I raise my hand high in the air and flip them off.

  Jake is already shoving his way through the crowd when I slam the driver’s-side door shut and glance over at Charlotte. “Are you okay?”

  Eyes wide, she says nothing.

  Starting the car, I watch out for Jake through the mob and then look back at her. This time her eyes are squeezed closed.

  My heart feels like it’s bleeding, seeing her like this. Revving the engine, warning them all to get the fuck out of my way, I wait for Jake to break free of the crowd, and then I squeal around the corner and drive and drive and drive.

  Thundering over the Woodward Avenue Bridge, I ease my foot off the gas, slowing to a steady speed. I study my rearview mirror and then swerve onto Jefferson, uncertain whether the cars behind me are reporters.

  Checking my mirror again as I take the on-ramp, I don’t see anyone. My gaze slides to Charlotte. She’s staring out the window. Assured we’ve left the insanity far behind, I reach my arm over to her and place my hand on her leg over the material of her dress and just keep it there.

  Finally, when we’re miles away, I ask again, “Are you okay?” I know there’s no way either of us is after that, but still I ask.

  “I don’t know what I am.” Her voice is cold and far away.

  My hand moves down just a little and when I hit smooth, soft, bare flesh, I caress it in a comforting manner. But it may be as much to give me comfort as to comfort her. Still, I want to know she’s in there. She’s retreated somewhere cold and dark and I’m afraid I might not get her back.

  Seized by an unrealistic fear that I might lose her before I ever really had her, I dig inside myself for what to say, how to handle what just happened.

  Up to now I hadn’t taken my involvement in the murder too seriously. I mean, yes, I’d talked to the cops and the lawyer and tried to put out the fires, but I hadn’t really thought I’d be wrapped up in this murder. I thought Hill would clear me and focus on someone else.

  Like the real killer.

  Now I’m starting to suspect it isn’t going to be that easy. Charlotte and I are inextricably wrapped up in Eve’s murder and public opinion isn’t going to leave us alone.

  As I drive, my thoughts all over the place, we’re both quiet in the dark of the night. Pushing 90, I slow down and take the next exit ramp. We’re headed east toward the Chrysler Plant when I know what I have to do. Before the promise of the Storm, that run-down, bankrupt plant was the only glimmer of hope Detroit had of surviving the economic downturn.

  A grim landscape of boarded-up stores, abandoned homes, and empty lots stretch from here all the way to the river. Graffiti covers most of the hard surfaces. Slang. Vulgar language. Depictions of life on the street. I’ve driven up and down it a thousand times at least and know most of the images by heart. Tonight, I don’t want to see them. I block them out, staring straight ahead.

  Gloomy yellow streetlights shine down on the industrial zone and then finally, I approach it. “See that?” I point.

  She looks up and out the window at one of the most successful auto plants in the world and it’s right here, sprawling across Jefferson North. The huge building is painted white and surrounded by a fence topped with barbed wire. It doesn’t look like much from the outside, but inside is a completely different story. Modern. State of the art. And profitable. Very profitable.

  Slowing, I pull to the side and park the car. I tell her, “Two years ago, Lightning Motors helped get that plant out of bankruptcy and back up and running. Because it’s situated right here in one of the most impoverished parts of Detroit, it was a huge gamble for Chrysler to keep the factory open, but we managed to convince them the risk was worth it.”

  Her gaze falls on me, almost awed.

  That’s not why I’m telling her this, though. Pulling over, I put the car in park. “Today, Jefferson North stands as the last auto assembly plant entirely within the city limits of Detroit, which once held nearly a dozen of them. It now employs more than five thousand of Detroit’s citizens and the factory runs around the clock. Determination, blood, sweat, and tears are what it took, Charlotte. People picketed. Argued. Disagreed. Yelled. Screamed. Caused chaos. But we fought for this.”

  Charlotte turns back and stares out the window at the plant.

  “What I’m trying to say here is don’t let them bring you down. Fight for what you believe in. Prove them wrong.”

  Turning back, she lifts her chin. “I want that more than anything, but I’m not sure I can anymore.”

  I say nothing. We sit just inches apart. The heat is unbearable. Like a sauna. The light from the streetlights creeps in and makes it all too bright. Although I fought for those lights overhead, right now I’d rather have shadows.

  Because this is it.

  The moment I decide to either speed ahead or screech to a halt.

  To get in or out.

  Believe in her theory or don’t.

  Choices.

  Consequences.

  Either I continue to believe my father’s death was an accident caused by negligence or I rock my entire world and choose to believe what Charlotte has told me—that it wasn’t an accident at all—and join her to prove it. That someone was behind the explosion that killed so many people and ruined so many more lives.

  Rolling the window down, I let the thick air fill my lungs.

  Blood.

  Sweat.

  Tears.

  Determination.

  That’s what it smells like.

  Looking at her, I see those things in her eyes and I can’t deny she’s a lot like me. Although our lives took different paths after the age of eight, the devastation changed us in ways neither of us could ever fully admit. I see her, though. See what lies beneath all that softness and beauty. Determination. Fortitude. And driving need. She really, truly believes the explosion wasn’t an accident, and because once upon a time I believed in her, I decide to let go of my own pent-up anger and hurt.

  And fall.

  “Don’t give up. Let me help you,” I finally say.

  She frowns, shaking those curls. “I couldn’t ask you to do something like that, Jasper.”

  “You didn’t ask; I’m offering.”

  Her gaze drops. “No, Jasper, I can’t accept your help. You saw what they were like out there tonight. If they found out you were helping me, it would be like dousing a fire with gasoline. And besides, it’s a losing battle. I can see now why my father gave up. These people are ruthless.”

  I reach over the console and take her face in my hands. “Maybe I like the heat. Maybe I don’t mind taking the side of the underdog. Maybe I insist—”

  The deep breath she inhales alerts me to what my touch does to her. Upon her exhale, she puts her hands over mine and stops me from finishing.

  Fire.

  Flames.

  A raging inferno licks through my body.

  Pulling out of my hold, she leans against the door. “You have to think about your business, Jasper. The murder case is already impacting it, and being seen with me, the black sheep of Detroit, isn’t going to help you rebuild goodwill.”

  “Charlotte, you must not know me well enough for you to be sa
ying something like that.”

  She looks at me, confused.

  Shutting the windows, I consider starting the engine and turning the air on but let my gaze fall on her instead. “The one thing I really don’t give a shit about is what people think of me.”

  With that declaration, I surge across the car, crashing my mouth to hers, thrusting my tongue in her mouth, consuming her, devouring her, tasting her, wanting to eat her up. With a need bordering on primal, I pull her over the console so I can feel more of her. Her lips never leaving mine, she adjusts her body to straddle my hips and puts her hands on my shoulders. I, in turn, put my hands on her ass, pressing her closer to me. To my hardness. To my insane need to have her.

  The fabric of our clothes grinds together until we’re both fitted so right. If only our clothes weren’t still on, I’d be inside her. I can’t help the groan that escapes my throat at the thought of burying myself deep inside and letting the world disappear, if only for a little while.

  The sounds she makes drive me to the threshold, but I’m not going to take her in a car. When I take her I want space to move. When I finally give in to this pent-up need I’ve been feeling for the past week I want to see her, all of her. And when this happens, because it is going to happen, I want to look into her eyes and see my own flaming, burning desire reflected back.

  The heat behind the seductive way she kisses me makes my body quake for more, every stroke of her tongue thrusting me deeper and deeper into a whirlwind that revolves entirely around her. Only Charlotte Lane. The girl doing something to me no one ever has done.

  Just thinking of her makes my heart race and my world spin faster and faster. Being with her puts me in another dimension.

  A thought that scares the living shit out of me.

  Shoving my mindfuck of issues aside, I focus only on her. My hands are moving and this time so are hers. Up my chest, to my shoulders, down my arms. Her touch is electric. I want more, so much more. My greedy mouth stays attached to hers. The air feels stifling. None of that matters. It’s only her and me and the way our bodies react to each other.

  The buzzing of my phone in this small space jolts me out of this lustful haze and I break the kiss. Knowing I need to answer this, I hold her in place and fumble for my phone in my front pocket.

  It’s Will. Drawing in a breath, I look at Charlotte and give her a slight smile. “Don’t move,” I tell her and then answer the call. “Hey, man, I’m good.”

  “Jasper, Jake told me what happened. I can’t fucking believe it.”

  “I know. It’s over for now, though.”

  Will sucks in a breath. “That’s just it. It’s not. There’s more.”

  I drop my head back against the headrest. “What else?”

  Charlotte stiffens and I rub my free hand up and down her back.

  “There’s an outstanding warrant to search your car. The Storm has to be taken down to impound by midnight tonight. That’s why Todd has been trying to reach you.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “What?” Charlotte asks in alarm.

  I put the phone on speaker because she might as well hear this. I mouth, “The police want to search my car.”

  A voice booms through the car. “Jasper, it’s Todd. Listen, I’m over at Will’s place.”

  “Todd, you told me there would be no more searches.”

  His sigh signals his frustration. “I know, and that’s why I wanted to explain the situation, but it seems the shit hit the fan before I could. Pictures taken last Saturday of your car show some compelling evidence.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The photos from the press shoot show mud all over your car and tires, and it was enough for the judge to sign the warrant for another search.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me? I went there that morning before the ground dried out. I already told you that.”

  “I know, but we have no way to prove it wasn’t at the plant during the night. The surveillance cameras aren’t clear enough and therefore are not admissible.”

  “Let them search it. They won’t find anything.”

  “I know that, Jasper. Jake just got here. I’ll arrange to have it dropped off if that’s okay with you.”

  Charlotte looks down at me and I trace her lips with my finger. “Yeah, do it. And Jake, I’ll have your car back to you within the hour.”

  “JJ, keep it for the night. Your place is swarming with reporters and so are Will’s, Drew’s, and mine. I’d stay clear of the riverfront for the night. Call me in the morning and we’ll figure things out.”

  “Thanks again, Jake. I’ll call you tomorrow,” I say and hit disconnect.

  Charlotte takes my face in her hands. “You’ll get through this and be cleared soon.”

  “I know.”

  Her thumbs caress my cheeks and I turn to kiss one of her palms. As soon as my lips touch her soft skin, I push all the crazy shit that is my life behind me and concentrate on her.

  And that’s the problem.

  Her.

  My pulse races with the knowledge that my path toward this girl on my lap is speeding down the track like a freight train.

  Our eyes are locked and our breathing is fast. Is the speeding train we’re on a warning to slow things down?

  The thought has me faltering in my previous intentions. “Tell me we should be doing this.”

  “We should be doing this,” she whispers.

  Not convinced, I go on. “Tell me this doesn’t taint our innocent memories. Because that time was the happiest of my childhood.”

  Staying stronger than I would have imagined, she runs her hands from my face to my chest and rests one of them over my racing heart. “What Charlie and JJ shared can never be taken away. Never.”

  Mimicking her actions, I put my hand over her heart. Look at her. Stare at her. Feel her heart. A beat. Two. Three. Take a deep breath. Now I can feel her heart beating just as fast as mine. “Then let’s get out of here and see what Charlotte and Jasper can share,” I tell her and lift my chin to meet her soft, lush lips in a tender kiss.

  And then I close my eyes and hope to fuck she’s right.

  A CHEMISTRY LESSON

  Charlotte

  IT’S AMAZING HOW one small thing can change everything.

  He believes me. Believes in what I’m saying. Maybe even believes me enough to help me prove my father’s innocence. Clear my father’s name. Ease my conscience. Set the record straight. Despite what scars of his might be uncovered, he’s willing to pull the Band-Aid off.

  The trouble is I’m not, though. I’m not willing to watch him uncover wounds so deep he might end up hating me forever.

  I look over at him. So handsome. So brave. So confident.

  Anger wells deep within me.

  Cast me out. Brand me with the letter A. I don’t care. But not Jasper. He’s been through enough. Just last week this city called him their white knight, and I can’t bear for him to become their black sheep along with me. That’s why I’ve decided to give us the night and then leave Detroit for a while.

  Not forever.

  But for now.

  Until the smoke clears and the dust settles.

  I’m not giving up. I’ll never do that. But it’s not fair for Jasper to be caught in the crossfire. Not when everything else around him is in such upheaval.

  I’ll go to the police station tomorrow and let them know where I’ll be before leaving. Mackinac Island isn’t that far. They’ll have to let me go. And as for my car, well I’m not sure what to do about that.

  Still looking at him, I watch as he runs a hand through his hair. He’s easing down my street with hesitation more than evident in his slow speed.

  The moon is bright above and I can see how the muscles in his arm tighten with apprehension. I can see how he clenches and unclenches his jaw, uncertain, like me, of what lies ahead. I can see his worry.

  Surprisingly, though, the street is eerily quiet. Relief washes through
me, knowing that the location of where I live has obviously not been uncovered.

  Yet.

  Patrons of the bar next to my apartment building, the bar I should have been working in tonight when the news broke, linger outside smoking, focusing on their own lives.

  Thankful, I let out a sigh of relief that I wasn’t there tonight, with the televisions turned on in every corner and my picture flashing across each and every one of them. Mean drunks might just be more ruthless than journalists trying to crack a story or citizens wanting due penance. Might. I’m not certain, but I’m glad I didn’t have to find out.

  Relief evident on his face as well, he parks the car a good distance from my building and the bar and we walk down the sidewalk side by side. Up above I study the stars, looking for a sign of any kind that I should take a different path. That I shouldn’t leave tomorrow. That my staying won’t rock this town on its axis like I know it will. But I know I won’t find one. My road is clear.

  Jasper drops a soft kiss on my shoulder and I wish I could use that as a sign, but I know I can’t. Instead, I continue to study the sky.

  Hands linked, we silently walk up the steps, through the broken door, up the stairs, and finally through my apartment door. My heart is pounding. This man, who I feel like I’ve known my whole life, wants me. Hasn’t forgotten me. Chooses me over the ease of walking away.

  It means so so much.

  Inside my apartment I turn the lights on. Jasper drops my key on the counter and is already headed to my bedroom. I watch as he flicks the lights on in there and disappears inside. I’m nervous. Suddenly very unsure if I am ready to cross the invisible line he spoke of just twenty minutes earlier. Afraid if I do, the only good memories I have of my childhood will forever be tainted with this new memory.

  “Would you like a drink?” I call out, my nerves apparent in the tone of my voice.

  “No thanks,” he answers. Jasper is now in my bathroom, turning those lights on too, and before I can think too much about it he’s back in front of me. Close. Very close. Close enough that I can smell his cologne and see the stubble on his jaw. Close enough to kiss me. Instead, though, he asks, “What apartment does your super live in?”