Promises

by Susan Rodgers

  She pushed her way past Josh and then past Steve and ran up Josh’s flagstone walk bordered by the breathtakingly beautiful pink and white Sakura - cherry blossoms - for which Vancouver was so famous. She vaguely remembered reading somewhere that these were blossoms that Japanese warriors had once used as their motif, for a rare and present beauty with a certain seemingly heartless expiry date. She barely made it into the first floor bathroom before she threw up.

  Outside, Stephen laid a quick hand on Josh’s shoulder to let him know he would handle it so Josh could finish talking to the cop, and then he followed Jessie inside. He was bewildered, but Steve figured that she was righteously upset over the appearance of the knife because it had come so close to Josh himself. Plus Jessie herself had been in the house overnight. It was light when she left, and she hadn’t mentioned seeing anything unusual. She would not have been in such a rush to get to rehearsal that she would have missed seeing the damage to Josh’s truck. The attack must have occurred in the daylight between the time she left and the time Josh went outside. Risky, he thought, as he slid the glass door behind him and entered the living room. Fucking asshole, he muttered under his breath as he went looking for Jessie. He could hear her being sick, and so he gave her a few seconds before he pushed open the bathroom door and went inside.

  He smiled sadly down at her, crouched before the toilet, white knuckles grasping each side of the bowl, her hair coming out of its bun, threatening to end up tainted. Stephen bent down and pulled Jessie’s loose hair back, and then after a moment he eased the elastic out altogether and re-did the bun. After a moment, Jessie sat back and accepted the tissues he handed her, then she wiped her mouth and threw the dirty tissues in the bowl, where they soaked up the water and seemed to melt away. She leaned back against the pedestal sink and watched him sit across from her. She wanted to memorize all of them, her friends, for she felt certain her precious time with them was coming to an end, one way or the other.

  “I have sisters,” Stephen said. At her curious look, he gestured to her hair. She nodded. There weren’t too many men out there in the big wide world who knew how to manipulate female hair into delicate buns.

  “So,” he said. “Pretty scary, huh?”

  She caught herself thinking You have no idea. Wrapping her arms around her belly, Jessie hunched over but didn’t lose his gaze.

  Facing her there on the cold tiled floor of Josh’s bathroom, he studied her. “Jessie,” he said lightly. “It’s just another one of those crazies. They’re just trying to scare you, and it’s obviously working. Nothing’s going to happen to you or to Josh. That’s why Charles and Matt are out there; they’re scheming about how they need to improve the security here, by installing motion sensor lights, that kind of thing. Better alarms. Maybe even put a guy outside for a while, at least until things settle down.”

  She acquiesced because she didn’t know how else to respond. Jessie was already turning back into the walking dead. Spotting Deuce’s knife on the ground outside Josh’s house, which she had last seen covered in Sandy’s blood as she crawled out of McCall’s charming home, was the last nail in her coffin. She ached to tell, but the truth of what the Southerner whose ancestors had once owned one of the largest slave populations in South Carolina had done, was her undoing. Deuce’s insurance that Jessie wouldn’t tell was Jessie’s secret terror that he would do the same to Josh.

  She knew what she had to do. Steve took her hand and helped her up, wishing that he could get more out of her, but it was clear that she was still not talking. He put his arm around her as they started walking, but Jessie shrugged him away, and they walked single file out to the driveway where the cop was photographing the tires and the knife.

  Josh walked up to meet them, recoiling at the clouded expression on Stephen’s face. Usually his friend managed to get some truths out of Jessie, but if he had, what he’d learned wasn’t good. More likely he hadn’t been able to communicate with her at all.

  Before wandering over to see what Charles and Matt were planning in terms of elevated security, Steve shot Josh a knowing look that didn’t help boost his confidence.

  Jessie stopped in front of Josh and said goodbye with her eyes, although, with the exception of maybe his gut, he didn’t recognize that the finality of them was imminent. She leaned forward and placed one hand on his tense stomach and then laid her forehead on his shoulder. She closed her eyes and a subdued moan escaped from between her lips. Josh pulled Jessie’s left arm around his body so that he could draw her closer, and then he wrapped his arms comfortably around both shoulders and kissed the top of her head. He squeezed her tight.

  “We’ll get through this, little one,” he murmured softly. “We promised each other. We knew it would be hard. We’re survivors, you and me. We’ll go on putting one foot in front of the other, breathing in and out, each day every day, so that they’ll know that they won’t win. That they can’t win.” He held her there against him, so he could feel that her heart was still beating, because he was afraid of what he had seen earlier - the light fading from her eyes. Jessie couldn’t speak if she wanted to, so great was her pain and the fear of what was to come.

  After a while Josh took hold of her shoulders and then turned her pinched face up towards his. He peered into the sea-pearl eyes that he loved so dearly.

  “Please Jessie,” he whispered, his brown eyes filled close to overflowing with tears of frustration. “Please don’t be this way. Talk to me.”

  But she couldn’t. She leaned forward and kissed him faintly, tenderly. Jessie held herself against those soft lips for just the littlest, lingering moment, and then she let go of him and walked away.

  Jessie put up her hand when she walked by Charles and Matt as if to say Leave me the fuck alone for now, and they let her go. They knew their girl. They understood that this was a messed up morning, and that she needed some time alone. When Jessie Wheeler needed space, she got it.

  She climbed into her car, slammed the door shut, squealed out into the street, pulled a U-turn, and drove hell bent for the shelter of her beloved mountains in North Van, where she knew she could find a place to let go and scream. Somehow, she knew Deuce would hear her, or would find her, and she was ready.

  She did, after all, have a few choices now that she knew the game was officially on. One, she could kill herself. That would teach Deuce a lesson. Then he would never have her. Two, she could go along with Deuce until she could figure out how to kill him, although that was not necessarily a reliable option. She thought he might have underlings that could still carry out his twisted desires. Therefore, no matter what happened to Deuce, Josh’s life could still be threatened. Three - well, that remained to be seen. She could run away, but what would that solve? She and Josh could run away, for that matter. But then they would be forced to live with the constant fear of being found by Deuce or his henchmen. And what kind of life would that be-a life in exile. But what kind of a life was this, if it wasn’t already some form of imprisonment?

  His heart sinking, Josh watched Jessie speed away in the Mustang. He, like Charles, agreed that sometimes women needed their space, but this was one of those times when he needed her, and when he felt she should want him. It hurt for her to shut him out. Toeing the ground with his boot, he watched a caterpillar squirm its way slowly across the pavement. Wishing it could talk, since it may have been the only witness to the unseen terror that stalked them this day, Josh kept his head down and forced his temper to stay in check. Mostly, he just wanted to be in the Mustang with Jessie. Maybe if he could get her alone - get angry at her - she would break.

  He joined the others and they made some decisions about stepping up the security around the home, like trimming shrubs for increased visibility, adding motion sensor lights, allowing Matt to keep a hired security guard around the premises for a while, perhaps even gating the driveway and fencing in the property. Josh reluctantly agreed to the increased security, although he felt in his heart that Jessie wouldn’t be thrille
d. His mind wasn’t on the task at hand, though; his mind was with Jessie in her little red Mustang, wherever she had gone.

  The malevolent dagger was carefully bagged as evidence, and a tow truck was called to collect the pick-up and haul it off to have the tires replaced. Josh and Steve said So long to the others, then climbed into Steve’s silver Audi TT and went for coffee before cruising the car lots to get their minds off the morning’s sinister events.

  It was late afternoon before Josh heard from Jessie, and even then, it was just a text.

  Staying at my place tonight

  It was the last straw. Josh pitched his phone across the room. It landed underneath his leather couch and bounced to a position against the wall behind it. He had to get down on his hands and knees and fish for the cell with a broom in order to retrieve it.

  He called her repeatedly, to no avail. The beginning of the end was upon them, and Jessie was once again an impenetrable fortress.

  ***

  Earlier, Jessie wasn’t surprised when she realized she’d been followed. Deuce was a smart old South Carolina snake. He was driving a black Ford Fusion, a rather conformist sedan for such a slithering monster, All the better to blend in with, she thought distractedly. She leaned against her car door, arms crossed, and glared at him as he pulled up behind the Mustang. They were on a remote road at the bottom of Grouse Mountain and, although it was a sunny day and lots of Vancouverites were out for weekend drives, she had led him to a stretch that was off the beaten track, and so they were alone.

  She stepped away from the Mustang and planted her feet into the sand.

  “Deuce the fuck McCall,” she growled.

  Grinning salaciously, he sidled towards her, stopping about fifteen feet away, his white snakeskin cowboy boots gathering dust from the dirt road, and a long canvas green riding coat flapping ever so slightly in the gentle breeze.

  Just to let me know the creature in front of me is in fact a living thing, she figured, alluding to the movement of his coat. He was sucking on a piece of timothy grass he’d picked up somewhere. He hadn’t shaved in a few days, and his whiskers were likely to be itchy, she thought, remembering and dreading the feel of him on her skin.

  “Jessie Wheeler,” he muttered agreeably in response, talking out of the side of his mouth so he could still chew on the timothy. His low voice with its slight Southern drawl, like liquid honey peppered with the carcasses of rotting houseflies, got under her skin, causing the miniscule hairs on the backs of her arms to rise up in defense. “You’ve done well for yourself. But then again that’s no surprise. You filled my club night after night.”

  She frowned. Her memories of singing at the Renegade had, for the most part, been good ones. But then wasn’t that the way with life-the good always infused with the bad? Sex with a stepfather-horribly wrong, yet on some deep, dark level felt good. Music, songs, melodies and lyrics-so lovely, yet almost always filled with pain. Acting-drama-always the ups and downs of life.

  He continued in the deep slimy voice that still terrorized Jessie in her nightmares. “Then you quit my generous employ, and the club emptied. You almost destroyed me singlehandedly, Jessie Wheeler.” He spat out the timothy and pulled a fresh piece of hay from his pocket. Laughed a low, angry guffaw that sent chills up her spine. “But then you filled it up again, and I opened more clubs, girl.”

  Deuce walked closer towards her, planted himself squarely in front, and touched the second timothy to her cheek. She recoiled but didn’t resist as he let it crawl ever so slowly downwards.

  “You filled it up, because people remembered that you’d played there. Word got out, and then everybody wanted to be in the club where Jessie Wheeler played. Tourism is huge in Charleston - idiots snapping pictures of every old house and cannon - did you know that this year our grand city was voted number one to visit in the world? In the world, Jessie Wheeler!” He stepped closer so that she could smell the foul stench of whiskey emanating from his black soul. She blanched, and he grabbed her chin in his hand and forced her to look up at him, to smell him. It seemed his steely eyes held foreboding echoes of crimson light.

  He continued. “Every day I pose for their pictures, standing outside the club or inside on the stage where you played for me. Sometimes I stand for pictures on the carpet where I fucked you, Jessie Wheeler. And those imbeciles don’t have a clue that the faint red stain in their photos isn’t wine. They think life in Charleston is one big history party. They don’t see that the plantations aren’t what they used to be. The furniture’s not even the same. It’s all so fucking fake…!”

  He turned on his heel and stomped a few paces away, his back to her, and Jessie absently wondered whether he was referring to the furniture or the tourists. She knew some visitors to Charleston who were afraid they’d see a snake while in the city. She wondered if any of those who took pictures of Deuce knew that they had seen a snake, all right. The worst poisonous kind imaginable, in fact.

  Suddenly, she found she was not afraid of him, for how could a girl who could summon no feelings be afraid of anything or anyone? She drew herself up to her full height and challenged her nemesis.

  “What do you want, Deuce the fuck McCall?” she demanded in a voice so gravelly it seemed drawn from the surface of the dusty road beneath her boots. It was the voice of the dead.

  “Ah, Jessie Wheeler,” he said. “I think you know what the fuck I want.”

  Deuce sucked on the timothy and cocked his head. “You belong to me. You are my employee. You are my slave. Granted, you’ve had a taste of freedom these last few years, but then, I had to see where you’d take this career of yours. It’s a lot more fun sucking the spirit out of a wild thing like you than out of a wussy little mouse like the slut who crawled out of my house that night years ago.”

  “I’ll do whatever you want,” she whispered.

  “What?” he said, leaning closer to her, even though he heard her clear as day. “What was that you said, Jessie Wheeler?”

  Cocky fucking bastard, she thought, and then repeated herself. “I will do whatever you want. But on one condition.”

  “Ah! A condition! I knew you had some fire left in you, dear girl. What condition?” He reached out a hairy stovepipe wrist and yanked her head up by the bun, then ripped the elastic out so that her hair fell free around her shoulders. He almost moaned with delight.

  She could barely whisper. “You don’t touch my friends. Or Charles and Dee.”

  “Um hum,” he whined, nodding exaggeratedly. “Okay. Deuce no-a toucha-Jessie-a Wheeler’s-a friends-a. Or Charles and Dee-a.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her, waiting for her coup de grace. He loved the thrill of this game that he knew he had already won. “And?”

  “And if you lay a finger on Josh I will kill myself in front of you.” It was a whisper, too. But the words were delivered steady and strong.

  He paused. Pondered her. Damn. The girl did have some strength left, after all.

  “All right, then,” he responded in agreement as the sun faded behind a cloud and the fresh scent of the mountains was replaced with an eerie musty earthy scent that tickled his nose unpleasantly. Absently, he thought there must be a bear in the woods nearby, watching this earthly test of survival of the fittest.

  “I will not touch your beloved Josh.”

  Jessie let a little breath escape as a tiny speck of relief washed over her. At least this would buy her some time.

  “But,” he added, grinning sardonically, as he channeled the bear in the woods. He had an uncanny ability of doing that, of becoming whatever creature he desired. I am a good actor too, he thought. “You don’t touch Josh either.”

  She hesitated for only a moment, because Jessie already knew this would have to be the case. She was prepared. “Fine. But you have to give me a little time with him, to let him go. Otherwise no one will believe that I left him because I wanted to. They’ll think that something happened, and you don’t want that, Deuce, or you’ll have Charles Keating’s w
hole fucking army after you.”

  She looked so small standing there beside her red Mustang, begging for Josh’s life and offering her own, that her tormentor almost felt a pang of pity. Almost.

  McCall stared at her for a bit, then reached out and grasped her hand. He nodded. “Two weeks,” he said.

  “Fine.”

  He pulled her close and pressed his lips to hers, and this time he did moan with desire and anticipation. He shoved her away, though, and strode back to his car.

  “I’ll be in touch, Jessie Wheeler.”

  Watching him drive away, Jessie rubbed a trembling hand over her face. The whiskers had indeed hurt. They felt like little porcupine pricks, hundreds of them all stabbing her at once. She stood there for a while, and finally the bear that had been watching them ambled away, bored.

  As the mountainous fresh scent reappeared and the sun came out from behind its cloud, Jessie was once again overwhelmed with a sense of despair. Then she climbed into the Mustang and pointed the car downtown. She had to look up an old friend.

  She spun her tires again. Seemed she was spinning them a lot, today. Oh hell, she thought dismally. Echoes the way I am feeling these days, going around and around with no solution in sight.

  She tried not to think of Josh, but she couldn’t avoid seeing his troubled eyes in her mind. He was so confused and scared, and he had no idea how bad things were going to get before they could ever get better, if in fact they could ever get better. The damaged image of him broke her heart. She forced the tires to stop spinning as she slammed on the brakes and suddenly veered over to the side of the dirt road. Then she laid her head on the steering wheel and let great heaving sobs overtake her.