by Kim Karr
He takes a deep breath. “I have to give her a chance. I owe her that.”
I put my hands on his shoulders and look him right in the eye. “You don’t owe her anything. You took care of her your whole life, but I understand where you’re coming from. What if we find a place for her?”
“Like a shelter? No way, I’m not doing that to her.”
“No, one of the work readiness rehabilitation centers where they can work with her on how to succeed in the world by getting her a real job, budgeting her money, and helping her stay clean.”
“Places like that would never take her in. She’s a felon.”
Instead of agreeing with him, I shake my head. “I think we could ask. Explain the situation. Pull some strings if we have to. Alex is over most of the city programs. I’m sure he could get her in one.”
The breath goes out of his lungs with his nod. “Let’s go buy that piece of property and then if you don’t mind, maybe you could help me look for a place for her?”
Saying yes isn’t needed. He knows I’d give my life for him. So instead, I stare back at him with the same intensity he’s looking at me with.
Bunny Fleming is going to turn her life around if I have anything to say about it, because there is no way I’m going to let her turn Will’s life upside down.
Fifteen minutes later, Will and I are walking down Lafayette Boulevard. The Detroit Courthouse is in our sights. The building is classic Art Deco. Built in 1934, the exterior hasn’t changed much since. Having spent too much time here already, I’m very aware of the interior changes. Its domed ceilings, intricate hand painting, marble floors, and bronze accents are all original, but its security is not. It is state of the art, straight up White House.
Today though, the mayor of Detroit, Alex Harper, has moved the auction to the courthouse steps, so I won’t be going inside.
Shame.
Ever the showman, Alex wants everyone in Detroit to witness the first step toward Detroit’s renewed future.
Speak of the devil. Alex is standing at the bottom of the steps with Whitney beside him. Looking dapper in his custom-made suit, Italian leather shoes, and cuff links, he’s only two years older than me, but has been looking much older lately. Maybe it’s because his dark hair is slicked back or it could be the circles under his eyes.
I look around for Hank, but don’t see him anywhere. To my surprise though, my mother is standing behind the roped-off section.
There’s a tiny crack in my cool façade that I can’t prevent.
What’s she doing here?
She never comes to events like these. Anything to do with my father has always been off limits for her.
“There you are,” Alex calls, extending his hand for the photo op.
Snap. Snap. Snap.
Blinded by the light, I take his hand and give him a strong shake. The boy who once made fun of me when I sat beside him at his kitchen table. Whose father I wanted for my own. Whose family I wanted so much to belong to.
I was always the outsider—looking in.
I never belonged. It just took me a long time to figure it out.
With that, I glance over at my mother, and then wave her over to come join me.
Alex freezes.
A little too close to home for his liking.
That family-man image he and his father share could be shattered if their infidelities are discovered.
I doubt anyone here will put two and two together, and besides I’m doing this for me. For her too. Because my mother, like me, is a victim of this cruel world.
She shakes her head, but smiles so bright at me, I can see the pride in her eyes.
I don’t push it.
Jake and Drew join Will and myself, and the photos continue.
“Can I speak to you alone?” Alex asks.
I give him a nod and follow him up the stairs toward the podium that has been set up for today’s sale, or show, I guess is the best term. Behind one of the columns, we are sheltered from the chaos gathering on the sidewalk. “What’s going on?”
My entire focus is down below, so when he asks, “You sure about buying this property?” I’m caught off guard.
“Yes, why would you ask me this now, after all this time?”
“Because, I know you don’t have the money. Sure, you have the ten percent needed for the deposit, but I’m not sure you’re going to be able to pull together the other ninety percent in the ninety days allotted.”
“How about you let me worry about that!” I snap.
He says nothing.
“So why do I feel there’s more to this?”
Regret clouds his gaze. “I have a buyer who is willing to pay double what the land is worth. If I get that, I can find you a piece of land outside of the Detroit area and sell it to you for below-market value. It would be a really great deal and money wouldn’t be so much of an issue.”
Ignoring the alternative, because to me there isn’t one, I bark, “Who wants the land?”
Not his usual calm, cool, and collected self, he looks around and then whispers, “I can’t say right now.”
Encroaching on his personal space, I point my finger at him. “You and I had a deal. I give you the show you need to prove to the city that you are the man for the job. That despite your youth, you are all in when it comes to fixing the future of Detroit, and in return, you make sure I get that land.”
Sweat coats his brow and he holds his hands up in surrender. “Relax, Jasper. I’m just asking.”
I narrow my stare. “I don’t know why you’re asking me that now, but you don’t want to renege on our deal, Alex. I can promise you that.”
“No need to make threats.”
“I’m not making any threats. I’m making you a promise, Mr. Mayor.”
“I got that,” he says taking a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his forehead.
“We done here?” I ask.
With a sigh, he answers, “Yeah, I think we are for now.”
With that, I descend back down the stairs and join Will, Jake, and Drew.
I notice Whitney is keeping her distance, and although I want to tell her to have patience with Will, I know the two of them have to be the ones who work it out. I might be able to help Will when it comes to his mother because I’ve earned that right, but when it comes to his love life, he has to be in control of it.
With the news cameras on one side and the people of Detroit on the other, the auctioneer approaches the podium. He makes all the correct legal announcements, discloses the address, and tells everyone that the taxes are paid.
Tory Worth had paid the back taxes and then petitioned for her father’s right to repossess the land. With Tom and Tory both dead, the petition was denied.
Why?
That is a question we may never know the answer to.
In typical auction style, the auctioneer asks, “Is there an opening bid? Do I hear one-hundred thousand?”
Some man raises a hand. Alex had already warned me he had plants in the audience to make more of show of this, but he assured me they would not bid up the amount beyond the reserve price.
“Over here to the man in yellow. Do I hear two hundred thousand?”
I raise my hand.
The auctioneer points at me.
“Do I hear three hundred thousand?”
“Over there to the woman in pink,” he says.
This goes back and forth. People gasping and nerves racking, as the citizens of Detroit wonder if the underdog will get the land.
Finally, after fifteen minutes of this sweat-pouring show, the auctioneer says, “Do I hear two million?”
Everyone is silent, and for a split second I wonder if Alex is going to renege on our deal after all and allow someone to swoop in and take it.
“Two million. Two million. Two million,” the auctioneer repeats.
No one responds.
The man in the white suit points to me. “Then sold for one million nine hundred and ninety-nine thousan
d to the man in black.”
The guys are whooping and hollering. Hugging me, each other. Cheering.
Standing there stunned, I’m unable to move.
I did it.
I did it.
The land on 8 Mile Road is mine.
It’s mine.
Ours.
“You did it, sweetheart.” My mother is standing beside me.
I turn to face her. Standing in front of me is the vibrant woman who used to stand in our kitchen in Eastpointe, drink a glass of wine, and wait for my father to get home. Not the broken woman whose husband died and left her and her son penniless.
With tears in her eyes, she looks up toward the heavens. “Your father would be very proud of you if he were here today.”
I pull her in for a hug and embrace her. “That means more to me than you will ever know.”
My father. The man who walked fast, talked fast, and did everything fast. The man I thought I hated for so long. I did this for him. For me. For us. For what was lost, and what can be found.
It took twenty years for me to figure that out, but I finally have.
PIT STOP
Charlotte
SUMMER IS OVER. Well, technically it doesn’t end until September 23rd, but Labor Day Weekend has always marked its end to me.
No one goes to the beach anymore. The buses hit the streets as kids go back to school. The supermarkets are already stocking up on Halloween candy. And the clothing stores offer nothing in terms of choices that don’t have the word wool written on the label.
The hired car comes to a stop and the five of us shuffle out. It’s Thursday night and it’s the annual End of Summer White Night Party at Tonic, a dance club the guys have been coming to for years. I glance up at the sky. The weather calls for rain, but so far the sky looks clear, which is good when a girl is wearing white.
It’s hard to believe this is the first time Jasper and I have gone out since Jobbie Nooner, which was four weeks ago. Sure, we’ve gone out to eat and done a little shopping for the loft, but not much else.
Between moving me into his place, fixing my car, and working, the time has just flown by. In fact, everyone has been so busy that we find ourselves usually too tired to move and end up hanging out at the loft and ordering food in.
Will and Whitney are completely over.
As far as I know they haven’t talked in weeks. Will spends all his time working during the day and then staying at home with his mother at night. He and Jasper have tried to get her into a rehabilitation facility, they’ve even asked Alex for help, but no spots have opened up to date.
Jake and Shannon seem to be hot and cold. Jake didn’t ask her to come with us tonight. She’s working anyway, so even if he had asked her, she wouldn’t have been able to come with us. I honestly have no idea what is going on with them. I don’t even know if the beads she wore back to the boat during Jobbie Nooner were because Jake saw her boobs. However, I do know they haven’t slept together. I overheard him telling Jasper that it’s the longest he’s gone without sex since he was eighteen.
Speaking of sex, as far as I know, Drew hasn’t seen Hailey and Bailey since he brought them back to his place after the boat. Although in the four weeks since that night, I think I’ve seen him with at least four different girls.
Six weeks.
It’s been almost six weeks since my attack.
Six weeks that I’ve had to wear this cast.
It comes off tomorrow.
Finally.
Giant white tents are set up outside and the line to get in the club snakes around the old brick building.
Jasper leads the way, looking every bit the male model he could have been. The black denim of his pants clings just right to his tight behind and his white t-shirt fits him like a second skin across his muscled shoulders and back.
With my hand in his, he moves through the crowd with an almost liquid grace that melts my insides. Once through it, he breezes right up to the VIP line.
“Hey, man,” says the bouncer. Fist pumping Jasper like an old friend.
Jasper releases my hand to return the gesture.
“Long time no see.”
“I know. Too long,” comments Jasper.
The bouncer looks around Jasper to me, runs his eyes up and down my body, and then brings them back to Jasper’s face.
Jasper tenses for a quick moment. “This is my girl, Charlotte,” he says through gritted teeth.
The guy smiles at me in a way I don’t really like. It’s the clothes. I don’t know how I let Jake talk me into wearing club clothes, but somehow I did. I already feel uncomfortable. Then again, the way Jasper’s eyelids lowered in an unconscious smolder when he first saw me, and the wow that escaped his lips, has already made it all worth it. I’m totally out of my comfort zone though—wearing a tight white skirt which stops just above my knees, matching sleeveless top which shows a hint of midriff, that I picked up on sale at Macy’s, along with the much higher than usual pair of silver strappy sandals on my feet.
“Hey, Blake.” Will pushes forward. “We should have called, but do you think you could let us in?” he asks, taking over, as if reading Jasper’s body language and looking to avoid an issue.
“The whole gang is here, it’s been way too long.” Blake, the bouncer, grins.
“We’ve been busy,” Will tells him.
“Yeah, I know. Of course, man, you’re always welcome here; go on in. And have fun.”
Inside, I look around. The place is huge. Old wood beams. People dressed in white are everywhere. There are even two other floors of dancing, and I think each floor has its own DJ.
Jake is right at home here. “Let’s grab some drinks!” he shouts and steps in front of Jasper to lead the way.
Through the packed club, Jasper guides me with his fingers firmly laced through mine.
Will in a white button down, Drew in a white polo, are both following behind us.
After a lot of teasing and harassing from Jake and Drew, Will had finally agreed to come out for an hour or two, only if he could have the car bring him home early and then return to get the rest of us.
“Blow Job or Buttery Nipple?” Jake shouts when we arrive at the bar.
I burst out laughing. “Is he serious?”
Jasper pulls me close to him. “Tell him you think we should drink Red Headed Sluts.”
I raise my brow. “What? No Blow Job for you?” I whisper.
His teeth nip at my ear and he growls, “I’d never turn one down.”
Intoxicated by his scent, it takes me a minute to compose myself.
It doesn’t get by Jasper either by the wicked gleam I see in his eyes, and then he adds, “If you’re offering, that is?”
With that, I break out of his spell and give him an eye roll. Trust me, he’s not neglected.
Those lush lips curve into a slow, sexy smile that causes my knees to wobble.
Composing myself because the night has only just begun, I tell Jake what to order.
“Fuck, not Jäger,” he whines.
“You can’t turn down a girl, Pretty Boy.” Drew harasses.
Jake is pretty. It’s not a word that should be used to describe a man, but his blond hair, tanned skin, blue eyes, and soft features make him that way. Don’t worry though, he’s all man, and anyone who doesn’t know him finds that out as soon as he opens his mouth. “Whatever. Let’s just fucking do this and get it over with.”
Five shot glasses come our way with a red cloudy liquid in them. Handing them out, the cheers come fast. I sip mine and let out a little oof. “What is this?” I ask puckering my lips.
The shot glasses that surround me are empty.
Jasper leans over to say into my ear with a tickling whisper, “It’s a shot, Charlotte. You’re supposed to drink it quickly, not sip it.”
“Oh, right,” I say and then drink the entire thing down. “That was gross.”
Amusement dances in his eyes.
“Fucking Jäger,” Jak
e whines holding his empty glass in the air.
Drew waves a demanding hand toward the bartender. “Another,”
“Oh, no!” Jake shouts.
Drew gives him a nod. “Absofuckinglutely.”
And so we let go. Drink. Have fun. Talk. And drink some more.
Jasper is watching me with those bedroom eyes that make lust whoosh in my lower belly.
Soon enough, I discover Jake and Jäger have a very tremulous relationship. That particular type of liquor not only turns him into a cuddling mess, it makes him put his dancing shoes on.
After three of those icky shots, my body is swaying, and I switch to a gin and tonic. That sounds much safer.
The guys then order tequila, but I pass. I’m completely mesmerized when I watch Jasper shake some salt on his hand, lick it up, down the shot, and then suck on the lime.
It makes me want to suck on the lime with him.
Moving on to something that comes in a slightly larger glass, the guys toss back a few more drinks. Jasper is popping a cherry into his mouth and my own mouth waters. Once he’s swallowed it, he sticks the twizzle stick in his mouth and chews on it.
It’s so sexy.
I nurse the one in my hand, my body already more than feeling the effects of the alcohol. The music down here is techno. I don’t really know any of the songs, but find myself moving to the beat just the same.
Jake is moving too, in a much different way. Arms. Shoulders. Legs. He reminds me a little of Justin Timberlake right now with his moves.
There had been a moment when Jasper first told me we were going out tonight to celebrate the kick-off to the holiday weekend that I wondered if it was a good idea. Four wild guys and one tame girl—not the greatest of mixes. But then Jasper turned to look at me in a way he did when we were young, and right then I knew that even though the boy standing beside me had grown into a man, that protective boy was still in there—and he’d never do anything to hurt me.
Besides, if I had said no, I’m not sure any of them would have come, and they had been working seven days a week and needed to cut loose. In fact, they are taking off Friday and Monday. And I have plans for Jasper. He doesn’t know it yet, but we are heading to the Butterfly House on Mackinac Island Saturday for the night. I can do surprises too.
