by Ellie Parker
“Talk to me, Stone. Just tell me what the hell is going on and I’ll leave.”
A vicious, unfamiliar expression came over his face and he got very close, close enough that I could feel his breath. “I am going to tell you one last time,” he enunciated the words for emphasis. “I don’t want you to ever come near me, my car, my brothers, my house or anything that’s remotely related to the Stark family. We should have thrown you the fuck out a long goddamn time ago. Now go away before I forget you’re a female.”
Tears were streaming over my cheeks and down my neck onto my white blouse. I noticed then that people had gathered around us, drawn by his screaming and by the pitiful sight of me begging him to talk to me. I was embarrassed beyond belief. There was nothing I could do. I couldn’t reason with him, I couldn’t apologize because I didn’t know what to apologize for.
“Just talk to me, Stone, please…” I sounded like a desperate trainwreck, but I didn’t give a damn. There’s this saying about letting something go if you love it and waiting until eternity for it to come running back to you. That saying was bullshit. I needed to fight. I needed to kick and scream and do whatever the fuck it took to get him to look at me the way he once did. It was nothing short of pathetic, really. It wasn’t just the bullying that I wanted to stop. Hell, I should have hated them for what they were putting me through. But without them, I felt like nothing. Without them, I felt like pieces of a thing that once used to be whole.
Stone stepped to the side, trying to dodge me. My hand flung out, latching onto his arm. “Please, Stone. Please…”
He looked at me, then at my hand. “Move.”
“Not until you tell me what the hell I did.”
“Move.” His upper lip twitched.
Still, I stood my ground. Held onto him even as he crashed my back against his car so hard that I was sure it left a dent the shape of my body. Stone’s hand was around my throat and he was squeezing. Not hard enough to snap my neck, but hard enough that it hurt.
“You disgust me, Jessa. You disgust the fuck out of me.”
“Please,” I whispered, the word hardly making it past the spot where he pressed against my throat.
“We should have known better than to think you were anything but a greedy slut.” Those words seemed to rile him up even more. When it came to me, however, they only confused the fuck out of me. As far as I knew, you’d have to open your legs wide enough to get fucked to be considered a slut.
Stone’s fingers drew in tighter. Now it wasn’t just discomfort that I was feeling, but instead, honest to God pain. I didn’t even budge. His hand on my neck was nothing compared to the axe they’d all taken to my heart. I kept my eyes trained on his, daring him to squeeze just a little tighter.
“Stone!” The voice belonged to Chase. There was so much panic in it and I clung to that just as much as I clung to the emotions that were driving Stone to the point of wanting to crush my throat. “Stop it. Fucking stop it!”
Chase was on him now, dragging him back, defending me the way he used to. Except it was nothing like the way he used to. Because never had Chase been in the position where he needed to defend me against his brother.
“Chase,” I said, my voice broken into tiny little pieces.
“What I did was save Stone from getting twenty to life, Jessa. This has nothing to do with me giving a fuck about what ditch you land in. Now get the fuck out of here.”
I had a death wish. Honestly, I did. Instead of following his advice, I found my way back to the side of Stone’s car. This time, Chase didn’t wait for Stone to lock his hands around my throat again. Instead, he grabbed me and flung me over his shoulder like I was something to be discarded of. He yanked at the door to my car and shoved me inside.
This time, I didn’t go back to them. There was hardly any fight in me. All I wanted was to get away. To get far away.
I stepped on the gas and drove until I was out into the country, away from town and away from all the familiar things that had suddenly turned into enemies for me.
I heard a text tone and reached into my purse, slowing down and pulling to the shoulder to see who was trying to reach me. It was Sven.
Sven:We want the car back. Leave it on the street tonight with the keys in the ignition and the title in the glove box. Your accounts for gas and insurance have been closed. Hoof it like the cow you are.
Jessa: You’re not getting it back until I get some answers. Why are you doing this?
Sven:You’ll be sorry.
Jessa:Do your best.
It was, of course, the wrong thing to say. I wasn’t taking into consideration the truth of my situation. They’d always protected me, provided for me, made sure others left me alone and that I felt loved and a part of their family. All that had changed now. There were no rules for me. There was nothing I could take for granted. I had to give it some thought before I got myself in deeper trouble yet.
I whipped the car around and headed home, went straight to my room and locked the door. I went to my closet and whipped out everything they’d ever given me. There were T-shirts and hoodies, ball caps and Nike tennis shoes. Then there was the jewelry. They often gave me special pieces for Christmas or my birthday. Each one signified a shared memory, like the surfboard charm from Stone or the old pickup from Chase. I pulled them all out and threw them in the bag.
Next came the photo albums. Most of them were from when we had been very young, before digital photo exchanges. I pulled everyone that had any of them in it out and threw it in the bags. I felt like I was divorcing someone.
I dragged the bags into the corner of my room and threw a blanket over it. I couldn’t even stand to look at it.
“Jessa?” Mom’s voice was at the door. She sounded upset.
I opened it. “Yes.”
“There are two police officers downstairs asking for you.” Her face was flushed, and her forehead creased. “Did you do something I need to know about?”
“Mom, don’t be silly,” I said, knowing that the fact that they were her because of me wasn’t an impossibility. Not with the turns my life was taking.
I followed her down the stairs and the officers were standing just inside the door. Dad was smoking a cigar. Mom didn’t allow smoking in the house and I knew he was defying her rules to make the officers uncomfortable.
“Jessa Lynn Renshaw?”
“Yes?”
“We have a warrant here for your arrest.”
Dad rocketed into the foyer. “Whaaaaat?”
“A charge has been filed against you by Mr. Walden Stark for theft of a vehicle in excess of twenty thousand dollars. That constitutes a felony in this state. You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one can be provided for you…”
So the really did get their fucking father in on the bullying.
Mom started shrieking at Dad to do something and his cigar burned down to deposit a splat of ash on the carpet. Neither one said a thing.
As for me, everything was in slow motion, as if I were floating above the scene and looking down. As my rights were read, the other officer turned me around, searched my body for weapons and then handcuffed me. The two of them walked me out the front door, without even a jacket on. I was put into the back of the squad car and left to wait as they examined the convertible and compared the license number to their warrant. One of the officers came back to the car. “Miss Renshaw, where are the keys to his vehicle?”
I wanted to tell him, but something told me that I should keep my mouth shut. If I produced the keys, it was as good as admitting I was in possession of the car. I’d watched enough tv to be cautious. “I’d like to be appointed an attorney, please?”
The officer mashed his lips and I could see he hated it when people did that. It just made his job that much harder. “Okay, George, she wants her attorney. Let’s go.”
Dad had come out of the house, his bathrobe thrown over him for warmth and his slippers with th
e worn heels scuffing along the sidewalk. It had begun to spit snow. I could see Mom standing in the doorway, her hand gripping her robe. I knew she must be crying.
I nodded at Dad. “We’ll work this out, sweetheart,” he called to me as the squad car pulled away from the curb.
25
Jessa
The county jail was hell. I was scared to death, shaking and not sure what I would do next. I had no idea how to go about getting a court-appointed lawyer. Mom and Dad had no money for such things. Normally, I would have gone to the Stark boys for help, but they were at the opposite end of my predicament and as far from being helpful as anyone could possibly be. I tried asking the officers and the woman who body-searched me and shot a hose of hot water over my body before she gave me an orange jumpsuit and paper slippers to wear. No one would tell me; they were just doing their job. I realize it wasn’t the Hilton, but surely, they could tell I was young and didn’t look like someone who knew her way around the justice system.
I was finally put into a cell with several other women, most of them young, but a couple looked hard and muscled. Maybe prison had made them that way.
Terrified as I was, I barely took my charges seriously. Of course, I didn’t steal the car. The man at the auto lot stood there and heard the entire transaction with Chase. He’d tell them. I had texts to back me up and of course, I’d been seen publicly driving the car to school. It was no secret. Then there was the night of the party when the boys actually put me into the car and abandoned me at the beach. If I’d stolen it, they wouldn’t have left me in it. None of it made sense. I could explain it all away.
It was cold in the cell and there were no beds, just a bench around the perimeter. One woman was lying on it, her knees almost to her chin in the fetal position. She was shaking and crying, brushing her hair out of her face and repeatedly muttering, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
Another girl sitting next to me leaned toward me and whispered, “She killed her husband. They found him hacked up and in the deep freeze. She told the cops she was canning the meat for the winter.”
I wanted to throw up. I told myself I couldn’t lose my shit and survive this if I caved to every little sissy thing inside myself.
“How does this work?” I asked the girl.
She shrugged. “I’m Kitty,” she told me.
“Jessa,” I introduced myself, “Has this ever happened to you before?” I asked, curious.
She shook her head. “No, but it happened to my mom so I kind of know what to expect.”
“Your mom?”
“Yeah, prostitution. She taught me everything I know,” she bragged, and I nodded appreciatively while the horror went crazy inside me. I was in serious trouble. This could very well be about the blowjob business cards.
“So, when do we see a judge or get our phone call or whatever?”
“Hopefully in the morning a judge will arraign us. Depending on what you’re accused of and whether you’re a flight risk, they’ll either let you post bond and leave, or they’ll keep you. You got a lawyer?”
I shook my head. “Can’t afford one. My parents don’t have much, and they were saving it for my college.”
“Well, you won’t need that now, I’m guessing. What they get you for?”
“They said I stole a car, but it’s all a mistake.”
“Honey, everyone in here is innocent, don’t you know that?”
“But I really am.”
“Okay, sugar, if you say so.”
“Won’t they give me an attorney if I can’t afford one?”
“Yeah. The judge will ask you how you plead. Plead not guilty. Just get it over with. Then he’ll either talk about bond or lock you back up. He’ll tell you then that if you want an attorney, to let him know.”
“I do. I really need one fast. I can’t stay in here,” I told her, shuddering.
“Sugar, you’d better get used to it. Car theft is serious stuff. Time to climb off the homecoming float, princess. This is serious shit.”
It was a miserable night. They never turned off the lights, never handed out blankets and the cell door clanged all night long with a succession of new inmates. Some of them smelled as though they hadn’t bathed in a month; others were obviously drunk or high and then there were the girls who looked like they ran a motorcycle gang. I stayed the furthest away from those; I knew they ate little innocents like me for breakfast.
Speaking of which, it was still dark out as I could see through the short window up by the ceiling. A matron came into the hallway, pushing a cart with trays. She handed them through the slit in the cell door and some of the women passed them around while the others took as many as they wanted, leaving the rest to go hungry. I lunged for one, knowing I’d pass out if I didn’t get something inside myself. This didn’t sit well with the two older women who had been there when I came in. They got up from the bench and walked toward me. One, who the other one called Jane, reached to my face and took my chin in her hand. “I think I might just have you for breakfast,” she said in a phony sweet voice. I couldn’t let myself start crying again, I just couldn’t. I didn’t say a word, but stared at her, wide-eyed. She must have decided I wasn’t worth it because she left me alone to go eat her breakfast. I felt relief, both at the close call and the nutrition of the garbage they called food. I could barely swallow it, but I knew if I didn’t, I was in for it.
I hadn’t slept but felt safer that way. The sun had risen when the activity began to pick up. One by one, the matron came to retrieve one of us for our chat with the judge. When it was my turn, I looked anxiously across the courtroom to see who was there for me. Mom and Dad were sitting together but when I looked at them, Dad just shook his head sadly. I knew what that meant. I was on my own.
I wanted so badly to tell the judge what had happened, so he knew I wasn’t guilty. First of all, by telling what happened, I was at the same time admitting guilt. Second, Mr. Stark had a great many more friends in town than I did. It was unlikely that the judge was open to a sob story from a girl like me.
There was a noise at the back of the courtroom and I quickly looked over my shoulder to see the Stark boys come in. They didn’t take a seat, but stood, even though the officer of the court asked them to sit down.
The three of them stayed standing, arms crossed over their chests like keepers of the gate. There was no sympathy for me; no redemption. I was on my own.
The judge offered an attorney and I agreed. I was sent back to my cell after my plea of not guilty. Shortly after, the attorney arrived. His name was Gomer Good, I shit you not. I didn’t expect Perry Mason, but I did think I could do better than some old geezer who looked like he slept off a bottle on the courthouse steps.
Gomer introduced himself, his eyes travelling the length of me. We’d be given a small room and I was handcuffed to a chair.
“Did ya do it?” he demanded from the beginning.
“Are you my lawyer?”
“If you mean can I tell anybody what you say, the answer is no. So, tell me if you did it.”
“I did it, but it’s not like they’re making it out to be. The Stark boys and I have been friends for years. They look at me as sort of a half-sister and a little bit of a potential lover, I think. They bought me the car as a gift. Chase even took me to pick it out.”
“All of them?”
“Yes.” He looked a little confused by that, but could I blame him?
“No,” I said.
He arched a brow at me. And as uncomfortable as I was, a added something I probably didn’t need to admit it. “We’ve done things before,” I said, “Not long ago, that almost led to sex.”
“You expect me to go before the judge and tell him that you’re driving a car one of the boys bought for you with his daddy’s money, but without his daddy’s permission and you may, or may not, have slept with him afterwards? Are you aware, young lady, that constitutes prostitution in this state?”
Sweet Jesus!
“You’re
twisting this all around. It’s nothing like you’re suggesting. We’re just friends – kids at school that hang out together,” I backtracked. “I think they’ve always been a little soft when it came to me and they like to compete. I didn’t have a car and was late to school a lot. So, they said they finally decided I should have my own car and Chase took me one afternoon to pick it up. You can ask the man at the car lot. I didn’t want to accept it, but Chase insisted. He told me I had a gas allowance and they paid for a year’s insurance.”
“And you believed him.”
I looked blankly at Gomer. “Well… yes… they’ve never lied to me before.”
“Which is why you’re sitting in the county jail, is that right?”
“You can ask that car dealer,” I demanded, a little louder than I was before.
“Do you think anyone in this town who trades with the Stark family is going to testify against them?”
He wasn’t wrong. “You realize that none of this looks too good for you, right?”
I nodded. “I swear, there’s a perfectly harmless explanation for all this. Do you think if I’d done these things that I’d still be hanging around? Wouldn’t I have packed my bags and left town?”
“Then maybe you’d like to explain the bags of clothes, shoes and jewelry they found in your room, hidden under a blanket. The cops think you were getting’ ready to pack up the car and make your getaway.”
“I had all those things in the bags because they were previous gifts from the Stark boys. I was going to throw it all in the back seat of the car if they insisted on coming to pick it up.”
“Did they ask you to give it back?”
“Well, yes.”
“And what did you say?”
“I said not until I got an explanation why they suddenly turned mean and cold to me.”
“A jury is gonna hear that and think you got mad because you got caught and that the boys were holding off because they wanted sex. Do you have a phone? Are there texts or mails that we can turn to?”
