Something Tattered (Joel Bishop Book 1)

by Sabrina Stark

  "What?"

  "You never told me your secret."

  "My secret? What's that?"

  "Well, you do remember the original deal, right? I was going to tell you about the estate, and you were going to tell me about the fights. But you never did. So now, I'm asking."

  Joel stiffened in his chair. "Asking what?"

  "See?" I said. "This is exactly what I’m talking about. You're acting all funny about it." I pushed back my chair and stood. "And you know what else? It's not fair, because I've told you a lot more than you've told me."

  I froze. Not fair? Did I really just say that?

  I knew all too well that life wasn't fair. Probably, I sounded like a kid objecting to her bedtime. I glanced around. And why on Earth was I standing? With a sigh, I sank back down.

  Maybe he'd think I was just stretching my legs. I gave a mental eye-roll. More likely, he'd think I was crazy.

  Lamely, I mumbled, "I’m just saying, it's your turn to tell me something."

  "Fair enough. What do you want to know?"

  I was so surprised that I almost fell out of my chair. Cripes, at this point, I'd need a safety strap or something. "Actually," I said, "I'm not sure where to start."

  "Alright. I'll make it simple. You wanna know what I do?" His voice hardened. "I beat the hell out of people."

  I tried not to flinch. After all, I'd suspected as much. "You mean like in regular fights? With an audience and stuff?"

  "Not regular fights. Illegal fights. And yeah, there's an audience."

  On some level, this was no surprise. I recalled Mike's star-struck reaction at seeing Joel along that lonely roadside. His words echoed in my brain.

  I saw you fight at State.

  You really slaughtered that guy.

  Reluctantly, I asked, "Are you still doing that?"

  "The fighting?" He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. "I dunno. It's complicated."

  I waited for him to explain. And when he didn't, I gave him a pleading look. "That can't be the whole story."

  "It's not. But the rest of it's so messed up, you wouldn’t want to hear it."

  "You're wrong," I said. "I do want to hear it. Like, where do things stand now?"

  "Nowhere," Joel said. "A few weeks ago, I was set to go legit, but the deal went south before it happened."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I was about to sign with this big sports agent, but the deal was squashed."

  "By who?"

  His jaw tightened. "My brothers."

  I wasn't quite following. "You mean, like they talked you out of it?"

  "Hell no. They screwed me over."

  "How?"

  "My brother Jake? He killed the deal."

  My mouth fell open. I almost didn't know what to say. It was horrible. And yet, a tiny part of me almost wanted to send Jake a thank-you card.

  Probably, this made me a terrible person, but there it was. I knew that Joel was tough. Really tough. And obviously, he could handle himself just fine. But there was something about him – a sweet, sensitive side that seemed at awful odds with the level of violence that Mike had described.

  I hadn't known Joel for long. But I'd seen his face every time fighting came up. It wasn't the face of a guy who loved what he was doing.

  Trying to get a better sense of the situation, I asked, "So, about that deal, is it killed for good?"

  Joel gave a bitter laugh. "That's the funniest part. The guy tells me, come back in year, maybe it'll blow over."

  "Maybe what will blow over?"

  "Jake. That's what."

  "Sorry, I'm not following. How, exactly, did Jake kill it?"

  "Easy. He bribed the agent to drop me."

  I felt my eyebrows furrow. "So Jake paid him off?"

  "Yeah, but not with money. What that prick did was tell the agent that if he dumped me, Jake would stop messing with the agency's other clients."

  Oddly enough, that made sense. I recalled Jake's fight videos. A bunch of them had involved sports stars, some pretty big names from what I remembered. From the little I'd seen, all of those stars had taken serious beatings.

  It was easy to see why a savvy sports agent would do anything to make those beatings stop.

  I looked to Joel. "So just like that, he dropped you?"

  "Yeah. Just like that."

  I almost didn't know what to say. "Wow."

  "And then Bishop? That prick won't back me when I try to fight it. Tells me it's probably for the best."

  Finally, all the pieces were falling into place. "So that's why you're mad at them?"

  "That and other things. My whole life, they've been screwing things up."

  "Both of them?"

  "Them and the other two."

  "Wait," I said. "There's more?"

  "Unfortunately."

  He always said that. And just like always, I wanted to argue. No matter how awful his brothers might seem, I still believed that Joel was luckier than he realized.

  At least, he had brothers. But this wasn't the time to quibble. So instead, I said, "The two I haven't met, what are they like?"

  "They're dicks," Joel said, "just like the other two."

  "Oh come on," I said. "That can't be true. I mean, there's gotta be some closeness there, right?"

  Joel practically snorted. "Close? You wanna hear something funny?"

  From the look on his face, I wasn't so sure. Still, I said, "Sure. What?"

  "One of my brothers? Supposedly, he's got a place around here. "

  I sat back in my chair. I hadn't seen that coming. "Really? Do I know him?"

  "Hell, I don't even know him."

  "What do you mean?"

  Joel shook his head. "I haven't seen him in years."

  And just like that, another piece of the puzzle snapped into place. "So that's why you're camping here? You were hoping to track him down?"

  Joel glanced away. "I dunno. Maybe." Under his breath, he added, "It's probably a bullshit story, anyway."

  "What story?"

  "Nothing. Like I said, it's probably bull."

  "Wait, is that why your stuff is in storage here, instead of in your hometown?"

  "No," Joel said. "It's here, because my brothers are dicks, and I didn't trust my things anywhere near them."

  "But what about your other brother–"

  "That's all I know." He gave me a look. "Now, it's your turn."

  Chapter 54

  I glanced around the patio. "My turn? Already?"

  "I told you about the fights," Joel said. "Now, you tell me. What are you afraid of?"

  "I'm not afraid."

  "The hell you aren't. So tell me. What's going on?"

  I bit my lip. I wasn't looking forward to telling him. The whole thing was just so humiliating. But fair was fair, so I did what he asked. And this time, I didn’t leave anything out.

  By the time I finished talking, my mouth was dry, and my juice was long-gone. I'd explained everything – how taxes had consumed any funds set aside for maintenance, how I'd diverted the money meant for my own living expenses to pay for some of the bigger repairs, and how I was taking this year off from college to look after the place – and hopefully save some money in the process.

  To give him examples of what I was dealing with, I rattled off a few of the minor things that were wrong with the house. I finished by saying, "And the worst part is, I can't do much about it until I turn twenty-five."

  "Why twenty-five?" he asked.

  "Because that's when I'll finally have control."

  "Of what? The house?"

  "Not just the house," I said. "The money, the artwork, the cars, everything."

  No more Derek on my doorstep. No more pissy little messages from his dad. No more begging for permission to use my own things.

  If I was lucky, the next four years would fly.

  Concern darkened Joel's features. "In four years? Will you be able to hold on that long?"

  "Sure." I tried to smile. "Almo
st definitely."

  From the look on Joel's face, he didn’t believe it any more than I did.

  Looking to dispel the lingering gloom, I added, "There is one bright spot though."

  "Yeah? What's that?"

  "Well, there was some money pre-allocated for basic upkeep, like lawn care. I worked it out with Derek's dad so that I'm the one doing it."

  Joel stared at me from across the table. "Let me get this straight. That's the reason you're stuck mowing the lawn?"

  "I'm not stuck," I said. "It was my idea. And there was that old mower in the shed, so it mostly worked out."

  Suddenly, Joel looked ready to explode. "That's bullshit."

  His reaction surprised me. After all, it was only a lawn. I asked, "What do you mean?"

  "I mean, what kind of asshole leaves you with a shitty, broken-down mower and hounds you when it's not done on time?" His eyes narrowed. "And what about Derek?"

  "What about him?"

  "You said he was like a brother."

  "So?"

  "So, what kind of shitty-ass brother is that? If I had a sister? There's no way I'd let that happen."

  I gave him a long look. The sentiment was nice and all, but I'd seen firsthand how well he got along with his own siblings. Unsure how to respond, I picked at the crumbs on my empty plate.

  Abruptly, Joel got to his feet. "You got a toolshed?"

  I wasn't following. "What?"

  "A toolshed," he repeated. "A place where you keep tools."

  "Uh…"

  "Forget it. I'll get my own."

  I was almost afraid to ask. "Why would you need tools?"

  "Because, a lot of what's wrong can be fixed in five minutes."

  I highly doubted that. "What do you mean?"

  "I mean, the leaky faucets, the loose doorknobs, the flickering lights. If Derek gave a rat's ass about you, he would've fixed those already."

  "Wait." I stared up at him. "You're not planning to fix them, are you?"

  "Hell yeah, I'm gonna fix them."

  I felt my eyes grow nearly misty. And yet, there was no way I could accept such an offer. "I can't let you do that."

  "Why not?"

  "It just doesn't seem right."

  "Yeah? Well, too bad."

  I blinked. "What?"

  "I said, too bad. I'm doing it, anyway."

  In spite of everything, I had to laugh. "Too bad? Again? You say that a lot, you know."

  "Nah." At last, he gave me the ghost of a smile. "Only with you."

  We went back and forth a few more times before I finally gave in. For whatever reason, Joel seemed determined to do it, and I couldn’t bring myself to argue beyond a certain point. Like the car thing, it felt like a gift I couldn’t refuse.

  The only real concession I wheedled out of him was that we'd put any repairs off until the next morning so we could enjoy the day together without anything hanging over our heads.

  I didn't have to work, and it was shaping up to be a beautiful day – sunny and warm, with a light breeze coming off the water. It was the perfect kind of day to enjoy everything that the estate had to offer.

  So that's what we did. We sunbathed on the narrow strip of beach just below my house. We pulled out the canoe and paddled along the shore line. We swam in the lake and made love afterwards in the boathouse below.

  By sunset, I felt like a different person – blissful and carefree like I hadn't been in years. As for Joel, he seemed different too, like someone who was only just recalling what it was like to be happy.

  Late that night, we fell into bed, warm from the shower and sated from sex.

  The next morning, we hit the storage place to retrieve his tools. But inside Joel's storage unit, it wasn't the tools that claimed my attention. It was something infinitely more interesting.

  Chapter 55

  It was one of the most beautiful things I'd ever seen. The colors were perfection. The composition made me feel like I was part of it. The scene was so enchanting that I couldn’t look away.

  I called out to Joel, "Who did this? Do you know?"

  He was outside the cluttered storage unit, rummaging around in the trunk of his car. "Who did what?"

  "This painting. I checked for a signature, but I didn't see any."

  I was still staring at it. If I had to classify its style, I'd say it was realism – except the reality was somehow more beautiful, like the painter was seeing things the way they should be, rather than the way they were.

  Joel still hadn't answered my question. I turned to look and was surprised to see him standing directly behind me.

  He gave the painting a cursory glance. "Why?"

  "Why do I want to know?" Again, I turned to look. "Because it's beautiful."

  It was an oil painting of a dark-haired woman with a couple of small children, all walking along the beach. She was in the center, wearing a yellow sundress and holding the nearest hand of each child. Both were boys. Each wore navy shorts and a short-sleeved, classic white button-down shirt.

  Was it a mom and her kids? That was my guess.

  The concept wasn't unusual. And yet, for some reason, I couldn’t look away. Why was that? Maybe it was the facial expressions that drew me in. They conjured up feelings of love and absolute security – emotions I'd found sadly lacking ever since the death of my parents.

  I was still looking at the painting. "Do you know if this was painted recently?"

  While waiting for his answer, I gave the subjects' clothing a better look. The outfits weren't exactly modern, but they weren't terribly old-fashioned either.

  It was the same with the hairstyles. The woman's hair was long and flowing. As for the boys, their hair looked delightfully disheveled, like they'd just been caught in a summer breeze.

  Based purely on the clothing and hair styles, the painting had to be less than fifty years old, but its exact age remained a mystery. There was a timeless quality that made it impossible to place.

  Even now, I couldn’t stop staring. "You don't know who painted it, do you?"

  When he still didn't answer, I turned to give him a questioning look.

  He asked, "Why'd you uncover it?"

  Instantly, heat flooded my face. Until just a few minutes ago, a large white sheet had been thrown over the painting, hiding it from view. I looked down at the sheet, now wadded up in my arms. "Sorry, I guess it's a bad habit." I gave an awkward laugh. "Family history and all."

  Silently, Joel took the sheet from my hands and began to move around me, as if preparing to cover the painting up again.

  "Wait," I said. "You never answered my question. Do you know who painted it?"

  "Yeah." He tossed the sheet over the painting. "Me."

  I did a double-take. "What?"

  He looked toward his car. "You ready to go?"

  "Not yet." My mind was reeling. "You said you painted that?"

  "Yeah. Why?"

  "Because you never mentioned it."

  "Mentioned what?"

  "That you were a painter." I looked toward the painting, now hidden from view. Even now, in my mind's eye, I could still see it.

  I was an art history major and the daughter of a famous artist. I was familiar with practically all of the popular names and styles. Even if Joel had only copied the painting, it was an amazing reproduction.

  I asked, "What did you paint it from?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean, is it a copy of something? Like another painting?"

  "No."

  I hesitated. "A photograph?"

  "No." Again, he glanced toward his car. "Ready to head out?"

  I looked toward his car and then back to him. "Why are you so anxious to leave?"

  "Because I've got the stuff we came for."

  Right. The tools. I glanced around the storage unit. I saw oversized plastic bins, along with dozens of cardboard boxes, stacked nearly to the ceiling. I was dying to wade through the mess in search of more paintings. There had to be more, right?
/>   Pushing that distraction aside, I turned back to Joel. "Just to make sure I understand…" I pointed to the covered painting. "You painted that on your own, I mean without copying anything?"

  "That's what I said." His eyes were wary, and his muscles were tight. "What are you getting at?"

  "It's really good."

  He didn't even smile. "Thanks."

  He didn't sound very thankful. In fact, he didn't sound pleased at all. I studied his face. "Why are you acting so funny about it?"

  "Because it's private."

  "Oh." The words felt like a slap, and I drew back, widening the distance between us.

  Yes, I realized that I'd uncovered the painting without his permission. But in my defense, I'd assumed that it was covered for protection, not for privacy. It was a simple misunderstanding, and yeah, a mistake on my part.

  Even so, his comment stung. Private, huh?

  I recalled everything I'd told him yesterday about the estate and its problems. I hadn't done that with anyone else, not even Cassie or Aunt Gina. As far as they knew, I was doing just fine. But Joel knew the whole truth – the whole ugly truth, including the fact that I was broke.

  That was private, too. But I'd shared it, anyway. And now, he was acting like I'd just been caught scrolling through his cell phone or cripes, rifling through his wallet.

  How humiliating was this?

  Chapter 56

  Sitting in the passenger's seat, I gazed out the car window as the landscape zoomed by. There was something I needed to say, but I didn't know how to begin, or even scarier, how the conversation would end.

  Already, my stomach was tied up in knots. Who was I kidding? I knew exactly how it would end.

  Badly.

  I didn't want it to end that way, but with Joel's current mood, I couldn't see any other possibility.

  With lingering dread, I gave him my third or fourth sideways glance. He hadn't said more than a few words after closing the storage unit and getting into the driver's seat of his car, only after holding open the passenger's side door for me.

  It was such a crazy mix of contradictions – the old-fashioned chivalry combined with his simmering silence. I still didn't get it. And the way it looked, he wasn't remotely interested in explaining.

  Deciding to get this over with, I cleared my throat and said, "Hey, Joel?"