by J. E. Taylor
“Hi, Mom,” Emily said and stood, turning toward the door and froze, meeting his gaze.
Five years had changed her and damn if she wasn’t the spitting image of Jessica. “Hi Emily, it’s been a while.”
Eric walked in from the kitchen, glancing casually at the group. “The kids are asleep,” he announced and flopped on the couch.
Tom looked at his former stepson in shock—talk about grown up. Eric, now almost eighteen, stood just shy of six feet tall, the epitome of the all-American high school athlete. Tall, good-looking, buff and had the nonchalant devil-may-care attitude to match.
Jessica slipped away, leaving Tom standing awkwardly in the entry to the living room, shifting from foot to foot. He hadn’t been this nervous since the first time he auditioned for his first motion picture. What the hell am I going to say?
“Don’t worry, my boys will talk you to death,” Chris said and hung up his coat in the closet and crossed to the bar in the corner. “Can I get you something?”
Tom licked his lips. A drink right now sounded like the perfect stabilizer, but the sound of kids stampeding down the hall caught his attention. Two boys ran into the living room with grins and his heart leaped in his throat. A mirror image of his eyes stared wide-eyed up at him, he looked from his namesake to CJ and even at four, the resemblance to his father was uncanny.
“CJ, Tommy, this is Tom Whitman,” Jessica said.
“He has the same last name as you, Mommy,” Tommy observed.
CJ just looked at Tom, his eyes showing the recognition of who he was and he glanced at his father for confirmation.
Chris nodded slightly.
“Your mother was married to Tom a long time ago,” Chris replied, turning his focus to his other son. “But now she has a different last name.”
“Oh,” Tommy said and looked back at Tom.
Tom crouched down so he could look Tommy in the eye. “Hello there,” he said and put his hand out.
“Hi.” Tommy shook his hand. “Nice to meetcha,” he said.
Tom returned his smile. “The pleasure is all mine, little man.”
CJ tilted his head and then his eyes widened. “You’re on TV!”
Tom started to laugh. “Yes. I was for quite a few years.” The repeats of Metropolis still played on certain cable channels.
“I saw you on a show the other day,” CJ replied.
“They still play episodes of the show on syndication.” He smiled and looked up at Jessica. “Syndication is...”
“I know what syndication is,” CJ interrupted Tom.
“You do?” Tom asked, sure that the little boy had no idea.
“The rights to the show were sold so it could be played and you receive a royalty from it,” CJ replied, shocking everyone in the room except his father. “Duh,” he added.
“Where did you learn such big words?” Tom smiled at him.
CJ shrugged and pointed at his father. “It’s what Daddy thought when you said the word.”
Tom nodded and looked back at Chris.
Tommy ran over to his father. “Daddy, he’s on TV,” he said pulling on Chris’s pant leg.
Chris reached down and scooped him up. “Yes he is.”
CJ cocked his head again. “You were in the movie that Mom and Dad went to tonight.” He turned and glanced over at Eric. “That’s why Emily and Eric were watching us.”
Eric smiled. “It’s been a while since you had someone in your head, hasn’t it,” Eric addressed Tom and stood, crossing to CJ and putting his hand on his brother’s head.
“Yes, it has,” Tom said and shifted his weight. He never got used to it and after being away from it for five years, it really freaked him out.
“Well this little guy can do it better than anyone I know.” He messed up CJ’s hair. “Come on, it’s time for you to get some sleep.” Eric stooped down and swept CJ up into his arms. “Coming, Em?”
Emily nodded and disappeared down the hall with Eric and CJ.
“I get to stay up?” Tommy asked swinging his gaze from the hallway to Chris.
“For a little while,” Chris said and looked over at Tom. “My friend here wanted to talk to you for a bit.”
“Didn’t he want to talk with CJ too?”
“CJ doesn’t talk the way you do.”
Tommy considered this and then nodded.
Jessica watched Chris handle the delicate situation with ease and smiled at her husband.
“Besides, Tom here is a very special person and we thought you’d want to tell your friends that you got to meet Superman.”
Tommy’s eyes went wide and he looked over at Tom. “Superman?”
Tom did his best not to laugh. “Your Dad’s exaggerating. I played Superman on television.”
“Can you fly?” Tommy asked as Chris set him back down.
“No.”
“Can you run really fast?” Tommy asked and they sat on the couch.
Jessica sat in the chair and Chris sat on the arm of the chair with his arm around her shoulder. They watched the exchange.
Tom laughed. “I can run fast, but not like Superman, that was done with special effects, same with flying.”
“Oh,” Tommy said. He looked at his parents. “I’m tired; can I go to bed now?”
Jessica nodded. “Of course you can, baby.” She stood up to take him to his room. “Say goodbye to Mr. Whitman.”
Tommy turned and gave Tom a hug. “Bye, Mr. Whitman.” He ran over to Chris and gave him a big hug as well. “Night, Daddy,” he said and then took Jessica’s hand and she led him to the bedroom.
Tom stood and crossed to and opened the doors to the balcony, welcoming the brittle wind ruffling his hair. He walked to the edge and looked down over the fashionable banister. The experience of seeing his son left him hollow and empty. He wanted that void filled; he wanted his son. He stared over the cityscape, ignoring the sound of the door unlatching and opening behind him.
He looked down at the light touch on his arm and then into her eyes before sweeping his gaze over the city. “Great view.”
“Are you okay?”
Tom took a moment to analyze that question. “I’m not sure,” he answered. “I have a son and I don’t want Ty to raise him.”
Jessica audibly drew her breath in. “You have no choice.”
Tom laughed in response. “Yes, I do have a choice.” He turned toward her.
Jessica shook her head. “As far as we’re concerned, he is the son of Chris Ryan.”
“Then why did you name him Thomas?”
Jessica smiled. “Thomas Patrick was his father’s name.” She pointed at Chris, who was watching them from the chair.
Tom raised his eyebrows. “Huh?”
“We named our sons in memory of his family,” Jessica replied. “Thomas Patrick Ryan was his father and Christopher James Ryan was his brother.”
“Ty can’t raise my son.” Tom glared over at him, prompting Chris to stand up and head out on the terrace.
“The name is Chris,” he corrected and closed the door behind him. “And there is no way I’m letting an alcoholic have anything to do with my son on a regular basis.”
“There’s no way I’m letting a cold blooded killer raise my child.”
Jessica stepped between the two men. “Chris is a better father than you could possibly imagine. He loves those boys and we’re teaching them values and understanding right from wrong.”
“He doesn’t even know what’s right and what’s wrong.”
“Yes I do. I know the difference.”
Tom laughed sarcastically. “Yeah right, that’s about as real as me saying I’m Superman.”
“He is a good father,” Eric said from the door, shocking all of them. “Those two are the best behaved, sweetest four-year-olds I have ever met.” He stepped out on the terrace. “You were fun, but as a father goes, you don’t hold a candle to him, Tom, and I will not let you separate my brothers.”
“Eric, this isn’t your batt
le,” Chris said.
“The hell it isn’t,” Eric responded. “If he takes Tommy, I won’t get the chance to be with my little brother. And CJ will go ballistic.”
“Eric, please,” Chris said and caught his stepson’s eyes.
Eric went to say something else but closed his mouth as his stepfather’s eyes bore into him.
“Please, let us talk.”
Eric sulked back inside, glancing over his shoulder as the door closed behind him.
“Tom, you do have some rights as his biological father,” Chris began, seeing Jessica glare over at him. “But if you even think about taking him from us...” he trailed off.
“What?” Tom snapped. “What are you going to do?”
“I will stop you. By any means possible.” His eyes conveyed the meaning behind the words.
“Even if it means you end up on death row?”
Jessica gasped.
Chris smiled. “You have no proof.”
Tom’s smile faded. He was absolutely right, he didn’t have a shred of evidence regarding Chris’s past. “People have been convicted with less.”
“You would put me in jail?” Jessica said, breaking her silence.
“No,” Tom said.
“You try to pull Chris down, I go with him and so do you,” she pointed out.
Tom looked from Jessica to Chris and back.
“The only reason you are here is because of him. I didn’t want to tell you about Tommy.”
Her words were like a physical blow and he took a step back. “Why?”
“I didn’t want to complicate our lives. We have a very quiet, very private existence and I want to keep it that way.”
Tom digested what she said. “You didn’t make a very quiet or private entrance tonight.”
“That was all me. You’re the one who invited us. You had to know I wouldn’t just show up without a grand entrance. That isn’t my style.”
“But a quiet, private life is?”
“Yes. Privacy is very much my style. Why do you think I insisted you put Christopher Aris on the guest list?” He paused. “And I wouldn’t say our lives are quiet.” He glanced over at his wife. “There is nothing quiet about two four-year-old boys.”
Jessica smiled in response. “Okay, well, quiet might not be the best description of our lives but for the last four and a half years we have been off the media radar and I like it that way. If you insist on trying to take your son, then he will be thrust into the spotlight just by being related to you. Do you really want that?”
“Jessie, the spotlight never bothered me.”
“I don’t care, the answer is no.” Jessica glared and stormed back into the apartment.
Chris looked out over the city. “And as long as you are married to Sharon, you will not come around to see us. I don’t want you putting my family in any more danger than you already have.”
“I thought you said she called off the hit?”
“She did. But wasn’t it you that said if she ever found out you had a son, she would kill him out of spite?” He glanced over at Tom.
Tom nodded.
“I love both my boys, more than you can comprehend. I love them more than I love my wife,” Chris said making his point. “So if you even think about putting either of them in danger by making this a public issue, I will have your head delivered to me on a platter.” Chris walked into the house, leaving Tom with that morbid image.
Tom followed him in from the terrace after a few moments.
Chris stood by the front door with it open. “It’s time for you to go.”
Tom looked down at his feet and then over at Jessica. “I want to see him again.”
Jessica shook her head. “That’s not such a good idea right now.”
He took a deep breath. “When?”
“I already told you, now go,” Chris replied.
“I don’t even know if she will divorce me.”
“Then you won’t see him.”
Tom looked at the two of them and slowly walked out of their apartment feeling like a knife had been embedded in his stomach. He no sooner raised his hand to flag a cab when one pulled up. Still preoccupied, he slid inside and a jab of metal pressed to his ribs. His head swiveled in the dark interior of the cab and he gasped, staring at his wife’s glaring gaze.
“Hi honey,” Sharon said. “So this is where they live.”
Ice filled his veins and he shivered.
“Drive,” she demanded of the driver and the cab took off.
Tom’s mouth felt like a bag full of cotton had been shoved in and his pulse quickened to an alarming rate turning the chill into burning fear. His son was up there; he couldn’t let her get to them.
“The three of you planned that little ambush. You humiliated me in public.”
Tom didn’t say anything.
“I’m going to make sure it never happens again.”
“If you so much as touch them...”
Sharon slammed the gun into his temple, making him see stars. “I’m going to do much more than just touch them,” she said. “And you are going to watch. You need to learn that your actions have consequences.”
“I’m not a fucking child, Sharon.” He glared over at her.
“I know and your punishment isn’t a spanking.” She smiled and clocked him with the gun again.
Blackness descended.
Chapter 28
Tom blinked his eyes opened and groaned. His head felt like someone planted an axe in his temple and he went to touch his face but his hand was stopped short. The clank of the chain sent a chill down his back and he widened his eyes, letting them adjust to the blackness surrounding him. Running his fingers over the rough surface behind him, he guessed it was brick or cinderblock and the stench reminded him of the musty mattress he slept on when he, Jessica and Ty were imprisoned.
A thread of fear weaved through his blood and he shivered. In the darkness, he could make out a few stationary shapes, but not much else. An occasional draft tickled his neck and he concentrated on breathing, keeping calm even though panic painted his skin, prickling and stinging its way through to the bone.
He listened for anything familiar and after a few moments, the sounds of the city streets reached his ears. He breathed a sigh; at least he was above ground but his relief was short-lived.
Dim overhead lights flipped on and he got a good look at his surroundings. What he saw made him wish he could be blind in the dark again.
“Jesus.”
He thought that last room in Ty’s prison was bad, what Sharon laid out made that look like Disneyland. His tried to swallow, but without spit, his tongue felt like a roll of sandpaper scraping the roof of his mouth.
Sharon stepped out of the shadows, slapping her palm with a riding whip. “It’s time you learn who’s in control,” she said and stopped in front of him, thrashing him across the face, leaving a welt on his cheek. She reached out with both hands and tore his shirt open with a smile, running her hands down his chest.
“Get away from me.”
She hit him across the face with the riding whip again.
“You are going to tell me that you love me.” He laughed and she whipped him again.
“Don’t think so.”
“What did you do with her tonight?” Sharon asked and grabbed his crotch, squeezing.
“Nothing,” he said, grinding his teeth against the pain.
“What did you do tonight?” she asked, followed by a strike with the whip against his bare chest.
“Nothing.”
“Did you fuck her?”
“No,” Tom said, glaring at her.
Sharon studied his face. “I believe you.” She released her grip and slid her hand suggestively over the front of his pants.
“Get away from me.”
The whip cracked against his jaw with the full force of her fury, ripping the skin open and she brought her knee up into his groin.
Pain exploded and he choked with the agony filt
ering through every muscle in his body. The wall scraped his back as he sank as low as the chains would allow with his breath locked in his chest and his face fire hot. When oxygen flowed back into his lungs a groan came with it, the tinny taste of pain filling his mouth.
“Before this weekend’s over, you will tell me what I want to hear,” she said and threw the riding whip on the table, storming out of the room, switching the lights off as she disappeared through the door.
Chapter 29
Jessica looked over her shoulder at him following her into their bedroom. “This wasn’t the ideal wedding night,” she said and he closed the door.
“Sorry you married me already?” Chris asked, dramatically covering his heart with his hands. “You’re killing me.” He stumbled toward her.
“Cut the shit.”
Chris grabbed her arm and yanked her to him, looking into her eyes. “This wasn’t the way I had planned it either. What I had originally planned for our wedding night was moved to last night because you already promised him we would be at the premiere.”
Jessica looked up at him and sighed. “Last night was wonderful, so was most of today until we stepped out onto the red carpet.”
“I said I’d make it up to you.” He held her face and kissed her. “What is it you desire?” he asked and moved his lips to her ear, licking the curves and sucking her earlobe. His fingers ran over the satin dress, fueling his desire. “Hmmm?”
“You,” she answered his question, getting lost in his exploration of her neck.
“Jessica Ryan,” he said, the name rolling off his tongue and creating a hunger like nothing he felt before and he nibbled the line of her neck.
“Mrs. Ty Alexander Ryan,” she said deliberately and smiled as he pulled away.
“Legally, it’s Mrs. Chris Ryan,” he corrected, his eyes slowly taking her in as he stepped away from her. He willed the dress to flow up and over her head and watched as it drifted to the floor in front of her. He slipped his shoes off, kicking them behind him and he stepped onto the discarded dress, taking her mostly naked body in his arms. “But I do like the sound of that much better.”
