He snorts again. “Well, I’m sorry I felt bad for the guy and tried to be kind to him.”
I suppose he’s right. He didn’t say anything to Jamie that was intentionally mean. It’s true—it seemed like he was going out of his way to be nice. I’m not sure why his behavior made me so uneasy.
“So how about that walk?” he says again.
“I…” I bite my lip. “I’m really tired, actually. I think I’ll just go home.”
Hunter drops his hands into his lap, a frown on his face. “It’s not even ten o’clock.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “Next time. I promise.”
At first I think he’s going to start whining, but instead, he smiles at me. “Okay, whatever you want, Brooke. I’ll drive you home.”
He’s a complete gentleman during the drive home, which makes me feel guilty for having shut him down. He opens the car door for me both when we get in and when we get out. And before he tells me goodnight, he gives me a long, lingering kiss that almost makes me tell him to come on up to my apartment and keep the date going. Almost.
Next time.
Instead, I go upstairs myself. I really am tired from that tense dinner and it’s nice to be alone in my apartment. I turn on the television and watch until I pass out on the cushions of my couch.
At around midnight, I get woken up by urgent knocking on the door interspersed with the doorbell ringing. I shout at the door, “Hang on a minute.” I’m already pissed off at the asshole who’s knocking on my door at midnight. It couldn’t possibly be Mr. Teitelman. He would never be that rude.
I throw open the door without even checking the peephole. I’m startled when I see Jamie standing there, looking rumpled in his jeans and T-shirt, his blue eyes slightly bloodshot like maybe he’s been drinking.
“Jamie,” I gasp. “What are you doing here?”
“Can I come in?”
I nod and step back. He limps in, leaning even more heavily on his cane than he usually does. He makes it to my sofa, then collapses. I sit down beside him.
“Are you okay?” I ask him.
He shakes his head at me. “Are you really going to keep dating that guy?”
I cringe. Is that why he’s here? To give me a hard time over Hunter?
“I like Hunter,” I say. “I’m sorry he was a bit of a jerk to you—”
“A bit of a jerk?” he repeats.
“Fine, he was being really patronizing,” I admit. “But usually he’s really great. Wonderful, actually. And I like him a lot.”
Jamie sighs and rubs his face with his hands. “I don’t trust him, Brooke. I don’t think he’s a good guy.”
“Jamie,” I say. “I understand your concern, but… well, you’re not my dad. Hell, even my dad doesn’t get to tell me who I can date.”
“I just get this really bad gut feeling about him.” Jamie’s eyes are pleading with me. I’ve never seen him like this. He’s practically frantic. “I’m worried about you, Brooke. I mean it.”
“I don’t know what to say,” I murmur. “I respect your opinion, but… I’m not breaking up with him.”
“Please, Brooke.” His brows are scrunched together. “I’ve never asked you to do anything like this before. But the whole time I was at that table, I just got this strong feeling that…”
I raise my eyebrows at him. “That what?”
He averts his eyes. “He’s evil.”
I stare at him.
“I know it sounds stupid,” he says quickly. “I realize that. But… I just…”
I bite my lip. If I told Jamie about the bobby pins, he’d go crazy. And then the “dying duck” thing. He doesn’t know any of this, and he still thinks I should stay away from Hunter. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I should block Hunter’s number from my phone and cut him out of my life.
Except I already know I’m not going to do that. Even as I’m sitting here talking to Jamie, my hand is itching to pick up the phone and call Hunter. To tell him to come over. That I’m his if he wants me.
He lifts his eyes again and he can see that nothing he’s saying is doing anything to convince me. His shoulders sag.
“Fine,” he grunts. “Keep dating him.”
“Thanks for giving me permission.” I roll my eyes, trying to make light of the whole thing. I don’t want him to see how uneasy I feel.
“But, listen, just… do me a favor.”
“Uh…” I can’t imagine what he’s going to say.
He digs into his pocket and pulls out a tiny metal spray bottle. “I want you to keep this with you at all times.”
I frown. “What is that?”
“It’s mace.”
I roll my eyes. “Come on, Jamie…”
“Put it in your purse, okay?” he says. “Promise me you’ll do it, Brooke.”
I take the small can of mace from him and put it on the coffee table. “Okay. I promise.”
“Do it now,” he says.
He’s being ridiculous, but just to indulge him, I put the bottle in my purse. I guess it’s useful to have. I can’t imagine I’m going to need to use it on Hunter though.
“Happy?” I say as I settle back down on the couch.
“Not really,” he says.
He’s looking at me again and it’s almost heartbreaking. I thought it was over before it began with me and Jamie. He’s with Gabby, after all. She spent the night.
But the way he’s looking at me now makes me think it’s far from over.
_____
On Sundays, Gabby and I generally have brunch together, so I’m surprised when it’s nearly noon and she hasn’t called me. Also, I’m dying to do the postmortem with her on our double-date last night. Jamie was totally irrational, but I know Gabby won’t be. She’ll tell me what she actually thinks of Hunter.
After I shower, I give Gabby a ring. She usually answers on the first or second ring, but this time, the phone rings so long that I think it’s going to go to voicemail before she finally picks up. “Hello,” she says flatly.
“Hi!” I say. “Want to grab brunch?”
Gabby is silent for a moment. “Not really.”
She doesn’t sound like herself. “Are you okay, Gabs?”
“Not really,” she says again.
I take the phone with me to the kitchen to see what I can eat in the fridge, since brunch isn’t happening. “What’s going on?”
“You mean you don’t know?” she snaps at me.
I think of how Jamie showed up at my apartment at midnight. “Um, no…”
Gabby is silent again for at least thirty seconds before she finally lets out a sigh. “Jamie and I didn’t go to the movies last night after dinner.”
“You didn’t?”
“Jamie was too upset,” she says. “We went back to his place and he kept going on and on about Hunter. He really hated Hunter.”
“Yeah, I figured that out,” I mumble. “But, you know, it’s none of his business.”
“That’s what I said!” Gabby cries. “I told him Hunter is your boyfriend and it’s your business.”
“And?”
“I’m telling you, he wouldn’t stop,” Gabby says. “He just kept ranting about it. How he couldn’t believe you were dating a guy like that. How he thought it wasn’t safe.”
“Wow,” I breathe.
“So I said,” she continues, “that maybe he’s so obsessed with Hunter because he’s still in love with you.”
A horrible silence hangs on the other line. “And what did he say?”
“He said he thought I was right.”
Oh my God.
“So I told him if he was still in love with you,” she says, “we should probably just end things and I should leave.” Her voice breaks. “And he said he thought that was a good idea.”
Goddamn it, Jamie.
“Oh, Gabby,” I whisper.
“I know it’s not your fault,” she murmurs. “You didn’t do it on purpose—I mean, I knew he liked you before he even asked me out.�
� She pauses. “But honestly, you’re the last person I want to talk to right now.”
“I get it,” I say, even though my heart is breaking.
“Anyway.” She heaves a sigh. “Maybe we’ll talk in a week or two. When I’m all cried out.”
“Okay,” I say softly.
We hang up and I feel awful. This whole thing is my fault on so many levels. I shouldn’t have told Jamie to ask Gabby out to the movies, knowing how he felt about me. It was none of my business. I screwed up everything.
Yet I can’t stop thinking about Jamie. I’d never seen him as upset as he was last night. I wonder if his gut feeling had more to it than I was willing to believe…
Chapter 27: Tom Blake
April, 1907
When I get to school, it is clear everyone knows the rumors about me. There are whispers when I walk into the classroom that don’t stop even when I fall into my seat and drop my head so that I don’t have to look at anyone. It’s clear that since Mrs. Perkins was discovered dead, I have become the prime suspect. Nobody believes George Blake has run off with a prostitute anymore. They all think I killed him.
I spend the day trying to catch Mary’s eye, but she refuses to even look at me. Her seat is close to the front, so she simply keeps her head facing forward. I wonder if she believes the rumors. The sheriff is her father, after all.
After class is over, I rush over to speak to Mary before she can return home. She is with two of her girlfriends, and instead of the giggles I usually get when I approach Mary, they look horrified.
“Mary,” I say to her. “Can I talk to you? Privately?”
Mary lifts her green eyes to look at me. She is so beautiful. It is painful to think I have destroyed the life I might have had with her. “I don’t know, Tom…”
“Please.”
She hesitates before finally nodding her head. “Yes. All right.”
Her friend Bessie glares at me. “Do you want us to stay, Mary?”
Mary glances at her friends, then back at me. “No, Bessie. I’ll be fine.”
The other girls give me a wary look, but they leave us alone. We go to the side of the schoolhouse, in sight of the other students but far enough away that nobody will be able to hear us. But once we’re alone, I’m not sure what to say. I don’t want to lie to Mary, but I don’t want her to think I’m some kind of monster.
Even if I am.
Mary solves my dilemma by bursting into tears. Saltwater quickly fills her eyes and streams down her cheeks. “Tom,” she whispers, “you know what they’re saying about you, don’t you? Papa says you murdered your father and Widow Perkins.”
“It’s not true, Mary,” I lie. Well, it’s partially a lie. “You know me. I wouldn’t do that.”
“Papa says you did,” she says. “He… Tom, he’s going to arrest you in the next few days. They’re just waiting to see if… if they can find the other body.”
“They won’t,” I say with confidence I don’t feel. “Mary, I think George killed Mrs. Perkins and took off.”
Mary is looking at me curiously and I’m not sure why until she says, “Why did you call him George?”
She doesn’t know. She has no clue that George Blake isn’t my real father or that my real father is a murderer.
I shrug. “He isn’t a good man, Mary. You have to know that.”
She shakes her head. “Papa tells me I can’t see you ever again, Tom.”
It’s like a punch in the gut. Mary—the girl I imagined I’d marry and spend my life with—now prohibited from even speaking to me.
“You should leave town.” Her voice breaks on the words. “Papa wants to see you hang. He says you’re evil and you’re a murderer. If he takes you to jail, that’s it. You’ll be good as dead.”
I look at Mary’s beautiful face and her red curls, hating the fact that I might never get to see her again. I love her. I have always loved her. How can this be the end for us? It can’t. It can’t.
“Will you come with me, Mary?” I reach out and take her hand. She doesn’t pull away and that encourages me. “If I leave tonight, will you come?”
Her red, swollen eyes widen. “Tom?”
“Please.” I squeeze her small, pale hand in mine. “I can’t live without you, Mary. We… we can run away to New York City. It’s so big—nobody will find us there. And… we can get married.”
Mary bites her lip. She hasn’t told me no outright, so that seems like a good sign.
“I… I love you, Mary,” I say. It is the first time I’ve said it to her. I love her. So much that I can’t imagine leaving Richmond County without her. “Please say you’ll come with me.”
I watch Mary’s face, knowing that I’ll be able to tell from her eyes what her decision is before she even says it. A slow, excited smile spreads across her lips. “All right,” she says.
I can hardly believe it. “Yes? You’ll come with me?”
“I will.” She nods. “I love you too, Tom.”
She glances around to make sure nobody is looking, then tilts her head up toward me. I lean forward and kiss her pink lips. Despite everything, I get that familiar, terrible feeling that what I want to do with Mary is something other than kiss her, but this time, I’m able to push it away. I love Mary. I love her so much.
We’re going to run away together to New York. Maybe her dreams of President Thomas Blake will never come true, but we’ll make new dreams come true. She and I will get married, and we’ll find an apartment together to live. It’s everything we ever wanted.
_____
I take the long way home from school so I will pass by Sullivan’s. I’m supposed to work today, but I need to go home and pack, and I’m sure he’s heard the rumors and doesn’t want me there anyway. Still, I loved that place and I want to see it one last time before I leave.
Mr. Sullivan has just gotten fresh meat. I can smell it before I can even see the shop, which scares me. Whatever it is inside me that makes me crave blood is growing stronger. For a moment, I question the wisdom of taking Mary along with me, but I feel like I can’t leave her behind. I love her, and I know I’ll never hurt her.
As I pass the window of Sullivan’s, I see he is all alone at the counter. I try to walk past quickly, before he can see me, but our eyes meet for a split-second and he comes running out, wiping his meaty hands on his apron.
“Tom!” he calls to me before I can get away.
I slow to a stop, although I’m nervous about what he will say to me. Is he going to look at me with the same accusing eyes as my classmates and Sheriff Eckley? Will he call me a murderer to my face? I turn to look at him and am relieved when he looks at me the same as he always does.
“Aren’t you supposed to be working today?” he asks me.
“I…” I chew on my lip, unsure how much to reveal.
Mr. Sullivan scratches at his bald skull. “No, I understand. I didn’t really expect you to come here.”
I nod.
“I just want you to know,” he says, “that I don’t believe what the sheriff is saying about you. I know you’re a good kid, Tom. Nobody can tell me otherwise.”
“Thank you, sir,” I murmur.
“I told you,” he says, “to call me Fred.”
That will never happen now.
“Listen…” Mr. Sullivan reaches into his pocket, digging around. “I never paid you your wages from last week. So…” He pulls out a bill. It’s more than my wages for a week, which he has already paid me. It is more than I make in a month. “Here you go, Tom.”
“I can’t take that,” I protest.
“Take it,” he says. “You’ll need it.”
He is right about that. The money I have under my mattress isn’t enough to get me and Mary to New York.
“Thank you,” I say as I take the bill from his hand.
Mr. Sullivan sticks out his hand and I shake it. I want to hug him. If he’d been the man who raised me, maybe I wouldn’t be in this position right now. But there is no point in
thinking that way. My life here is over.
Chapter 28: Brooke
Hunter and I are having dinner at a trendy new Japanese restaurant, but I’m having trouble focusing on him. The good news is that I haven’t heard back from Detective Bateman for a week, which I’m assuming means the bobby pin hair was not a match. So Hunter is not a murderer.
But he’s also not Jamie.
Over the last week, Jamie has called me repeatedly. He’s texted me a bunch too, always with a similar message: “Can you call me or come by? We need to talk.” Except I already know what he needs to talk to me about—the fact that seeing me with Hunter apparently made him realize he’s in still love with me. And I don’t want to take his calls until I’m sure about what I want to say.
Seeing Jamie with Gabby has made me recognize my feelings for him are far from platonic. I like him a lot. But I’m still not certain that taking the next step with him is a good idea. He’s one of my best friends and this isn’t going to just be a casual thing—if we go out, it’s going to lead to something really serious. Do I want that?
Also, there’s the fact that he only just ended things with Gabby. If I started dating him now, it would crush her. I don’t know if I can do that.
And that’s why I’m not taking his calls.
I watch Hunter take a piece of sashimi off his plate with his chopsticks. Gabby and I always say New York is divided into People Who Eat East Asian Food With Chopsticks and People Who Don’t. I’m not surprised Hunter falls into the Chopsticks category—Sydney did too. She would make fun of the way Gabby and I dug into our shrimp fried rice with our forks while she was elegantly picking up grains of rice with her chopsticks. Gabby would yell at her for being a “chopstick snob,” and Sydney would tell Gabby to quit pitching a dying duck.
I miss Syd sometimes.
“You seem distracted,” Hunter notes. He’s surprisingly perceptive. “Everything okay?”
He has no clue. “Just a long day at work.”
He reaches out to take my hand across the table. “I was just wondering how you would feel about me coming over to your place for a bit tonight. I’ve never seen it before.”
Love Bites Page 20
