Young Enough (The Age Between Us Book 2)

by Charmaine Pauls

  “Will you ask him?”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  “It’s what I want.”

  “Then I’ll speak to him.”

  Nodding, she hops off the chair. “Can you please show me my room? I’m really tired. I’d like to rest.”

  Concern flares in my chest. “How’s your eyes?”

  “Fine. My vision doesn’t blur any longer. It’s just been a rough week.”

  “Of course. Come, I’ll show you.”

  She calls for Dusty, who appears from under one of the armchairs.

  She arrived with no bag, but most of her clothes are still with me, and I stocked the bathroom with everything she’ll need.

  Upstairs, I show her the two bedrooms and bathroom.

  “This one is yours.” I open the door to the sunny room. “Do you like it?”

  “Yes,” she says unenthusiastically. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Can Dusty stay in my room?”

  “Sure. Come down when you’re hungry. I’ll keep the food warm.”

  Closing the door, I give her the space she needs and take a moment to find my balance. I’m utterly grateful my baby is home, but a piece of my heart is missing. I’ve lost my joie de vivre, but all it takes to carry on is putting one foot in front of the other. I go back to the kitchen and finish the pie. Then I call Dorothy.

  “How are you?” she asks.

  “The test is negative.”

  “Dear God.”

  I give her a moment to digest the news. This is huge. She’s a grandmother to someone other than Benjamin’s son. She must’ve toyed with the idea as much as I have through the years, even if we never allowed ourselves to say it out loud. Maybe she respected my decision not to talk about it too much. Maybe she believed it was in Abby’s best interest. Maybe she was scared, like me. Maybe she felt guilty.

  “Is Abby back with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “How’s she taking the news about Francois?”

  “Not well.”

  “Jane, I’m sorry.”

  “I’d like to speak with Benjamin, please.”

  She sucks in a breath. “I always knew it would come to this. I always hoped you’d find it in your heart to talk it over, but not like this.”

  I don’t reply. What is there to say?

  “I’ll get him for you,” she says with resignation.

  When his voice comes on the line, I have to close my eyes at the repulsion pushing up in my chest.

  “Hello, Jane.”

  “I need to see you.”

  “I know. Come over. I’m not leaving for rehearsal until six.”

  “Today? My daughter just got back. I was thinking next week.” Abby can do with another week before we go through the next traumatic experience.

  “Today.”

  The line goes dead.

  My throat is dry. My heart is beating too fast. I fill a glass with water from the tap. I’m staring through the window as I down it, seeing nothing but the past. Facing Benjamin will be facing what happened. There’s a good reason I’ve been avoiding him all these years. Not only will I have to face the awful truth, but also Evan’s death all over again. The reason why he died. I don’t realize how hard I’m gripping the counter until a nail breaks, tearing into the skin.

  “Dammit.” I open the tap and hold my bleeding nail under the stream of water.

  “Are you okay?” Abby asks from the door.

  I school my features before I turn back to her. “Yes. I just broke a nail. Are you ready for lunch?”

  “I’ll try to eat something.”

  “Good.”

  I dish up a hearty portion and set her a place at the table before filling Dusty’s bowl with kibbles.

  “Aren’t you eating?” she asks.

  “I had a big breakfast,” I lie. The truth is I may vomit if I take one bite before facing Benjamin.

  “Do you miss him?”

  “What?”

  “You’re staring into space,” Abby says. “Do you miss Brian?”

  I cup her hand from across the table. “I have a lot on my mind, that’s all. It’s nothing to worry about.”

  Like finding a new job. Like settling in this house. Making a home of it. Like finding out who Abby’s father is.

  I can’t take Abby with me to Dorothy’s house, not when confronting Benjamin, and I’m not welcome at Loretta’s. Asking Francois to look after Abby for the afternoon when he’s just dropped her won’t seem right. He’ll really think I’m not a fit mother, but I don’t have anyone else to turn to.

  “I’m going to see Benjamin,” I say.

  She looks up from a forkful of food. “To ask him to take the test?”

  “Yes. Do you mind staying with Debbie for a while?” I add, “If she agrees.”

  “Of course not. I’m sure she won’t mind.”

  I pat her hand. “Eat up. I’ll call her after lunch.”

  The locket I gave her for her birthday catches the light. I trace the engraving on the heart. “This suits you so well.” Catching it between my fingers, I press on the mechanism to unlock it. The pendant falls open to reveals two miniature photos, perfectly aligned. Francois and Debbie.

  What this does to me, I can’t begin to describe. How could I have failed so badly when I love her so much? Where did I go wrong?

  “Yes, it’s pretty.” She pulls it from my hand and closes it.

  It’s as if a needle twists under my nail. The pain of my own daughter’s rejection is unbearable. Am I doing the right thing by keeping Abby? Is this the best for Abby or me?

  Putting those questions away for later, I focus on what needs to be done today. One thing at a time. That’s how we’ll get through this.

  Debbie agrees readily enough to let Abby stay for the afternoon when I explain where I’m going. Just before teatime, I stop at Dorothy’s house. She meets me at the door with a hug.

  “Come.” She takes my arm. “He’s in the study.”

  We walk down the hallway, our steps muffled by the familiar Persian carpet.

  At the door, she pauses. “Would you like something to drink? Maybe a cup of tea?”

  “Yes, please.”

  I don’t want tea, but I sense Dorothy needs something to keep her busy. When she’s making her way to the kitchen, I knock and enter.

  Seeing Benjamin standing behind his late father’s desk almost makes me stumble. It’s like a punch in the stomach. He hasn’t changed much, except for the grey hair creeping into his sideburns. He’s dressed in a dark suit, holding a glass of amber liquid. His black hair is slicked back, and his face is still as smooth as candlewax. His slender frame is relaxed, but his green eyes are chilling. Cold. He’s always been the opposite of Evan in everything. Evan was tanned, muscled, and good with his hands. His disposition was carefree and fun-loving. Benjamin is the silent, brooding, artistic one.

  I close the door with a click, leaning against the wood for a moment to find my courage.

  “I expected you,” he says. “When Francois left you, I knew it would come to this.”

  “To what?”

  “Pushing me into a corner when you no longer have a family to protect.”

  “This is for Abby. She wants to know. She has a right to know.”

  He puts the glass down on the desk. “It’s not going to happen.”

  My fear and discomfort make way for anger. “I’m not asking.”

  He smiles. “Are you threatening me?”

  “If you don’t go willingly, I’ll get a court order.”

  We stare at each for an immeasurable moment. We both know what getting a court order implies. I’ll have to tell the truth of what happened that night. The world will know why Evan really died, that the fight I had with my fiancé as the newspapers reported was only a smokescreen. This is how far I’m willing to go for Abby. I’ll even break my promise to Dorothy.

  “You see,” he picks up an envelope and rounds the de
sk, “I had the foresight to predict this exact moment.” He pushes the envelope into my hands. His voice is eerily soft. “It’s not going to happen.”

  “What is this?” Bribe money?

  “Open it.”

  His smug look warns me not to, but I don’t have a choice, not if want to know why he looks like he’s just announced checkmate.

  Lifting the flap, I pull out a stack of photos. They fan out in my hand, some dropping to the floor. At first, the images don’t register. Slowly, the reality kicks me in the teeth.

  No.

  It’s an image of me in sheer green lingerie, tied to my bed in the most compromising position. Nothing is spared. One breast is spilling over a bra cup, and the crotch of the panties is pulled aside. My most private parts are on display. My make-up is smeared, and my hair is a mess. I look fuck-ruffled and cock-whipped. A whore. There’s no other word for it. Shame engulfs me. If I’ve been feeling sick earlier, I now feel like dying. Of all the people to see me like this, Benjamin is the worst. He saw me naked once, but the photo feels like the biggest violation of all. It leaves me more vulnerable, more shattered than the time he touched me, because he stole something that was special to me and defiled it. He stole every good impression I’ve had of Brian and disillusioned me. That’s the hardest part to take. That and having him witness my mortification as realization washes over me.

  Brian betrayed me.

  I’ve been such a fool.

  Even as my insides cringe and my heart slows to a painful thump, I refuse to show Benjamin what the image does to me. I flip through the rest of the photos. Each is of the same scene, of me with a different expression. Ecstasy. Screaming as I’m coming. My ass being spanked. Brian’s cock is visible, but not his face. I force myself to go through the pictures, one by one. The most humiliating are the ones where I’m simultaneously being fucked by a vibrator and penis. Brian’s penis. The blood drains from my head, leaving me lightheaded. I’m sick to my stomach. I can’t breathe. I can’t speak.

  Anger laces every molecule in my body as I look back at him, anger and the worst kind of betrayal. A lover’s betrayal. It feels as if my guts are being shredded. The fortuneteller’s prediction crashes into my memory, as clear as yesterday. A lover’s betrayal. Be careful who you trust.

  “Where did you get this?” I ask, my voice steady despite how the rest of me trembles, already knowing the horrific answer and praying to God it isn’t so.

  His smile is mocking. “I think you know.”

  I bend to pick up the photos from the carpet, taking my time to collect each one and slipping them back into the envelope. Facing him with a calm I don’t feel, I say, “Are you blackmailing me?”

  “I have a family. I’m a world-famous musician. I’m not about to sacrifice my career for a scandal, or my wife and son for your daughter’s ease of mind. If you get a court order or spill as much as a word about that night, these go public. I have more photos. I have films. I have you in every fuckable position possible. The world will see what a slut you are. You can say whatever you want about me, but you seduced me. We’ll see who they believe.”

  Slipping the envelope into my bag, I turn for the door.

  His words follow me out. “Have a nice life, Jane.”

  I don’t go to the kitchen to tell Dorothy I’m leaving. I walk straight to my car and start the engine. I know where I have to go.

  8

  Brian

  The Digital Media exam went as well as it could with everything that’s turning in my head. I’ll pass, but it won’t be the A Toby wants. At least it was the last exam for the year. I can’t stop thinking about Jane. I can’t stop wanting or needing her. I can’t focus on anything other than what she must be feeling and thinking. Life is a time bomb about to detonate. I’m doing a mental countdown, waiting for the cops to knock on my door and question me about Abby. That’s all I can do. Wait. My hands are chopped off.

  Life doesn’t pause to give me time to deal with my shit. It goes on, and I do what must be done. After my exam, I pick up Sam from school. It’s holiday. She’s in high spirits, but I only feel despair. I make her a salad for lunch before driving her to her friend’s house near the Hartebeespoort Dam with her new party clothes. They’re going to do a dress rehearsal for tomorrow night’s party to try out their hair and make-up. The drive to the dam takes a good hour. I’m not back in Pretoria until four o’clock. It’s already peak hour traffic due to the people who leave work early on a Friday, but I’m planning on putting in some extra time at the office to get my mind off my problems. I can’t even think about my love life for the fear of going ape shit crazy.

  It’s wrong to take the chair behind Jane’s desk. It’s wrong to sit in her space. It’s wrong that Abby accused me. How I met Jane is wrong. The why is the biggest wrong of all. I knew I was going to steal her from the moment I saw her photo. Everything is wrong, except that we’re made for each other. We fit together so perfectly, I feel I’ve grown into the man I became just for her, for the moment we met. We were born for each other at the wrong time, two planets in an orbit we can’t break. I’m out of solutions. There’s no choice but to take the coming blow and wait it out until Jane is once more free. I’ll wait however long it takes. Into forever and hell, no time or place is too long or far.

  My head is swimming with dark thoughts and how to survive like a living dead man for the next ten years when my door opens, and a woman I’ve never seen before enters. She has a stylish hairdo, and her dress looks expensive. A yellow ostrich leather handbag matches her shoes. I judge her to be in her sixties, but she may be older. She’s one of those well-preserved women whose age is hard to guess.

  “Brian Michaels?”

  Out of habit, I get to my feet. “That’s right.”

  “Dorothy James. I’m a friend of Jane’s.”

  The James stops me even before she gets to the friend part. “As in Evan James?”

  She takes a seat without being invited. This woman has presence, and she’s not afraid to call the shots. “I’m Evan’s mother, yes, but I’m here to talk about Benjamin.”

  My gut turns inside-out. Not moving my gaze from hers lest I miss an important clue, something that’ll tell me what the hell this is about, I lower myself into Jane’s chair. I’m not saying anything. There’s no need to implicate myself until I know exactly how much she knows.

  “I gather you care for Jane,” she says. “At least, that’s the impression she gave me.”

  Care is putting it lightly. I’d give my life for her. “You discussed me.” It sounds angry, but I’m pleased I was important enough to Jane to have made me a topic of conversation with her friend.

  “We spoke about you, yes. She loves you very much.”

  “I know.” It’s the one certainty that keeps me sane.

  “If you care for her as much as the impression she gave me, you’ll tell me if Benjamin bribed you to sleep with her.”

  I shoot like a rocket from my chair. “What?” How the fuck did she find out? I can’t imagine the dandy confiding in his mother. And if she knows… My blood freezes. My voice is chilling to my own ears. “Does Jane know?”

  Her expression turns pained, as if I’m a child who’s greatly disappointed her. She reaches inside her bag and pushes an envelope toward me. “I found these today.”

  Picking up the envelope, I pray it’s not what I think it is. I lift the flap and peer inside.

  Fuck. Jesus, no. Christ.

  The strength leaves my body. I sink back into the chair, taking the pack of glossy images out. “I assume you looked at these?” I flip through them with mounting fury.

  “Not everything,” she says modestly. “You need to tell me how much Benjamin paid you for those,” she motions at the pictures in my hands, “and how you orchestrated the scam.”

  “Nothing,” I grit out. “He paid me nothing, and there is no scam. What I feel for Jane is real.”

  “Tell me how you met Benjamin.”

  “I do
n’t have to tell you anything.” I’m not giving her ammunition to shoot me down before I’ve spoken to Jane.

  “I don’t think you realize what’s at stake, Mr. Michaels.”

  “Enlighten me,” I say, crumpling a photo of me fucking Jane from behind in my fist.

  “I’m going to tell you a story about Jane, and I need you to hear me out to the end. From the moment Evan brought her home, she was like a daughter to me, only better. Daughter and friend. Evan met Jane via Benjamin, who was in Jane’s class. Only a mother will know that both her sons were head over heels in love with the same girl. Benjamin never said it, but it showed in the subtle ways he hurt Evan from the time Evan started dating Jane. He felt Evan stole her from him. Their engagement made Benjamin crazy. He was enraged. On the day Evan announced it, Benjamin smashed every glass in the kitchen. Jane and Evan weren’t there to witness the violent display, and I didn’t want to spoil the little of the relationship left between my sons, so I cleaned it up and said nothing.”

  This is news. I reel as an insight hits me. Benjamin’s revenge was born from jealousy, not from concern for his brother.

  “On my husband’s sixtieth birthday,” she continues, “we had a party at the house. Evan got called out to an emergency plumbing job, and Jane decided to wait for him. I didn’t want her to go back to the dorm where she stayed on campus so late at night, so I told her to sleep over. I was occupied with our guests, and Jane hung out with Benjamin. He offered her a drink, only…” She looks toward the window with the view, staring at it for a couple of seconds as if she’s searching for something, maybe her courage, before she faces me again. “It was drugged.”

  My veins ice over. I can’t speak for the fear of breaking the confession, and I’ve got to hear what happened. I need to know if I’m going to murder Benjamin in cold blood.

  “Evan got back in the early morning hours. We’d all gone to bed, already. I presumed Jane had retired to the guest bedroom.”

  Premonition fills my gut. I will her not to say it, but I know what’s coming.

  “Evan found Jane in Benjamin’s bed. To say he was furious is an understatement. The argument woke up the whole house. When my husband and I got to Benjamin’s room, Evan was punching him so hard I thought he was going to kill him. My husband had to drag him off his brother. Evan didn’t stop until Benjamin admitted the truth. He’d drugged Jane and slept with her in a jealous fit.”