Well, no matter. Deuce doubted Jessie would turn him in out of fear that he’d do to Josh what he had done to Sandy. He’d get her back. He would be lying in wait for her when she got out of the hospital, maybe give her a few weeks to recover. They would not find Deuce’s DNA in any sexual assault registry. Nor would they find a record of his fingerprints. He’d never had to beat and beg a girl before, they were always willing to be with him, in fact some begged him. Arrogantly, he reminded himself that he was wealthy, good looking, a respected Southern businessman whose family had once owned a large plantation. He was descended from an aristocratic background, for Heaven’s sake. People threw roses for him to walk on. He laughed as he imagined children with baskets of roses smiling and greeting him. He pounded his fist on the desk, rattling pens and pencils and overturning neatly stacked piles of notes, and flipped his chair around again to watch yet another horse and carriage tour make its way through the sweltering streets. Why oh why couldn’t Jessie see that he was good for her, that other people loved and respected him? Why did he see hate and loathing in her eyes when she looked at him? Okay, so there was that little matter of killing her boyfriend after Deuce raped her. But in his twisted mind, Deuce thought that he’d done her a favor, that the rape had taught her about good sex, that Sandy was an anchor around her throat, a mere child with nothing to offer.
The next two weeks or so would be an exercise in patience. Oh, well, he ought to get these businesses back on track anyways. He had a lot of people coming in the door of the Renegade and now, since Jessie was so badly beaten “by her ex-boyfriend” they were coming in and holding fucking vigils! In Deuce’s own fucking bar! They were setting up candles and cover bands were playing her tunes, and people were crying! It was a fucked up world.
Deuce touched the computer mouse, and the monitor in front of him hastened to life. Yes, he’d better get at those accounts. But first…he typed Jessie Wheeler beaten into Google. He ought to check on her condition, which he did every hour on the hour. After all, he had stake in the great Jessie Wheeler. She was his property. She was his light.
She was his life.
***
Chapter Twenty
As expected, the forensics came back negative for Josh’s DNA. Jessie did not push the issue. She told the investigating officer she was angry with Josh after leaving him at the after party - she was drunk, and his name just came out. The officer eyed her warily and then followed up with Deuce’s theory, that she might still blame Josh for the beating. Perhaps he flew into a blinding white rage after finding her with someone else. She shook her head despondently. No. Just let him go.
Charles, Matt and Charlie dropped in for a visit just as Jessie was bitterly pushing some applesauce around with a spoon, contemplating whether it was worth tasting. She didn’t have much of an appetite after the officer’s visit.
Charlie started by presenting Zach’s theory.
Jessie stared him straight in the eye. “Charlie,” she said, laying down the spoon with a clink and pushing the applesauce aside. “I was drunk. And lonely. That’s all. I flirted with him, but I shouldn’t have. It was stupid. Afterwards I was just pissed at myself and angry with Josh for flirting back. If Josh was at my building after the concert, I didn’t see him. He didn’t touch me. I guess he was on my mind, that’s all - I was kind of out of it on Saturday,” she said, the sarcasm in her voice as thick as honey on a pantry shelf in winter. “I saw him in the hallway at the arena, I was confused, I was angry, so I guess I blamed him. I suppose it made more sense to my scattered brain at the time than admitting that I had no clue who attacked me. Some nebulous shape in the dark…” she drifted off, remorseful.
In short, her version was not necessarily the same one that Josh was telling. She did not admit to throwing him in jail for his own protection. In the end, the outcome was basically the same, though. Josh was released.
There were the death threats to deal with. Jessie admitted responsibility. That was the only time Charlie saw her eyes flicker with something akin to lying. He knew her well enough to note a subtle change come over her face when she said, “Matt, I screwed up. The least I can do is order some protection for Josh, at least until things settle down.”
Frowning, Charlie leaned on the bed rail and tried to meet Jessie’s eye but she kept her steady gaze glued to Matt. Watching her closely, Charlie saw that Jessie seemed to suddenly have trouble swallowing, and the fingers of her right hand grabbed the spoon again, clenching it so rigidly the knuckles turned white. She still wasn’t telling the truth, as far as he was concerned. But why not?
Charles nodded at Matt’s raised eyebrows. Dan and another of Matt’s guys would shadow Josh, whether he wanted them there or not.
Eyes narrowing, Charles posed the next question. “So if it wasn’t Josh who did this to you, who was it?”
Shrugging, embarrassed, Jessie stared at the sheets as she answered, twisting the top hem around and around a forefinger. “Like I said, some random guy whose face I couldn’t see. Look, Charles, I was so drunk when I got home I could barely keep my eyes open. I passed out quickly.” She dared an upward glance. The men were quiet, standing around her bed like statues. She continued, filling the silence with half-truths and lies. “He was strong, like an athlete, a football player’s body type. Caucasian, I think. I remember him telling me he tricked the concierge somehow, that’s how he got up the elevator into the foyer of my place. He was likely some sick fan from the concert.”
There was a period of silence in the room as everyone pondered her testimony. There were holes that all three recognized as Jessie covering up for some reason. They weren’t pleased.
Josh was released the same day. He was less than impressed with having personal security tailing him wherever he went, but he made it easy for them. He stayed home a lot. The Drifters season three shoot wouldn’t be starting for a while, and he was canned from the Susanne Bier film. He had time on his hands to lie around and feel sorry for himself.
Before he left the safety of the jail Josh met with a serious Zach, a subdued but relieved Kayla, and the Sawyer clan’s lawyer Mitchell Weldon, a grandfatherly sort who reminded Josh of a 1970’s crime show star. Weldon sported an older beige suit and comfortable tie-up shoes, a striped tie, thick gray hair that stood up in unruly patches, a hefty paunch, and a kind, raspy voice. For Kayla’s sake, Paul tagged along to make sure the lawyer was doing his job to the best of his ability. Just after Josh was informed that he was clear, at least of the DNA rape test (they would continue to investigate the beating regardless of the fact that Jessie relented and said it wasn’t Josh), the actor threw a radical request into the mix.
“What if…would it maybe draw the real perpetrator out if the world still thought it was me? Who attacked Jess?” He was earnest. Josh had been thinking about this as he tossed and turned on his bed of rocks last night.
Kayla cried out when she realized what Josh’s silence would mean for him. Zach groaned. The elder lawyer raised his eyebrows.
“Why would you want to do that to yourself, son?” Weldon’s voice was like comforting maple syrup on Saturday morning pancakes.
“Josh, there are death threats all over the Internet! You’re already public enemy number one! Don’t you want to clear your name?” Kayla moaned.
Zach just stared. Here they all thought that Josh was some maniacal asshole that beat up and brutally raped his ex-girlfriend when, in fact, he loved her enough to further risk his reputation in order to try to trick some crazed fan into revealing himself to ensure Jessie’s safety. He swallowed. He hated himself for ever having doubted Josh, and he knew that Josh’s friends would too, once they realized the truth.
With great reluctance, Weldon agreed to talk to the Keating camp about the possibility of employing such a ruse. Deftly flicking his twenty-year-old briefcase open, he lifted out some paperwork he needed to finalize in order to get the release process underway.
Kayla looked sadly at Josh. This was a roller coaster
that was about to go higher and fall faster. She was scared.
Later that day, Charles and Dee sat with Jessie at the hospital. Jessie was still somewhat cold to Dee, although she did at least speak with her. The couple presented Josh’s idea. Jessie closed her eyes.
“Dee,” she said. “Why am I not surprised that you think it’s a good idea that Josh’s reputation stays tarnished?”
Dee took her hand. “We need to catch this guy, Jessie, unless…”
“Unless what, Dee?” Jessie was testing her.
Dee looked down, over at Charles, back at Jessie. “Unless for some reason you’re still lying to us.”
“In what way?” she spat back.
“Maybe Josh did find you with someone else. Maybe he did throw you around.”
Jessie drew her hand away, disgusted. “Why are you always so quick to judge him, Dee? You’ve never liked Josh - from day one you hated him!”
Charles spoke up from his comfortable position in the big chair occupying the corner of the room. “That’s not fair, Jessie. Josh came to you with a shaky background.”
“That didn’t mean you had to wait for him to erupt. He’s not a fucking volcano!”
Dee was close to tears. “You’re not seeing this thing from the outside, like we are, Jessie. You’re broken and battered, and you’re lying to us about it. You’re protecting someone who does not deserve to be protected! Someone I’d like to strangle with my own hands for what he did to you!”
Painfully forcing herself higher on the raised bed, Jessie cried, “ Yes, Deirdre Keating, I am protecting someone! But I am protecting someone who does deserve to be protected!”
She instantly regretted what she said. She had to be careful. Deuce had made very clear threats that horrible night only a few days ago. Jessie wanted to go back to sleep. She wanted everyone to leave her alone. Turning her head back towards the wall she wondered if this nightmare would ever end.
Dee grabbed her hand again. She was losing this battle. She did not want to lose this girl. “Jessie,” she begged vehemently. “It is Josh, isn’t it, who you’re protecting? Please, please, just tell us that much! And if it is him, then I want to know why! Why can’t you admit it? Why won’t you ever talk to me?!”
Desperate to be alone because it was easier to keep her convoluted thoughts straight in her own head as opposed to trying to sort out Dee’s, Jessie looked back over at her manager. She understood that the older woman thought of her as her daughter. She felt very much like Dee was her mother, as well. And that Charles was her father. But there were limits to what you could - or should - share with the people you thought of as your parents. There were limits as to how much hurt and pain you felt they could bear at your expense.
“Dee,” she said forcefully. “I’ve got this under control, okay? You and Charles, you just get Matt to watch Josh so that every step he takes is monitored, so they always know where he is, at least for a few weeks. Otherwise you leave Josh the fuck alone, and you get Janet to tell the world that it was Josh who hurt me, and that he has a court date, and you let him take the heat for something he didn’t do and,” her eyes narrowed, “why do I think you’ll enjoy that?” She closed her eyes. “Leave me alone. I want to sleep.” Jessie was suddenly very tired.
Frustrated at the girl’s reticence, Dee wanted to say more but Charles eased himself out of the chair and clasped her hand. He led her out of the room past the handsome dark-skinned security guy whose name Jessie had discovered was Ulysses, and then he drove Dee to her favorite French restaurant and ordered her a bottle of wine to help cushion the sting of rejection.
Steve came in to see Jessie later, climbing on the bed beside her without asking. They didn’t speak but there were certain truths in their eyes that begged for the omission of words that night - the night Josh was set free from a physical prison yet held hostage in a psychological one; the night Steve could not find the courage to go see the friend the world openly blamed for hurting one of their most beloved singer-songwriters; a girl whose music and lyrics had the power to elevate even the most downcast soul to a much higher, otherworldly plane.
They lay there in the dark and although he knew it was twisted, because Jessie was his friend, Steve found himself longing to make love to this girl, to erase the terrible wrong that had been done to her, to make her body right again. Delicately, he kissed her. She saw it coming so she let herself kiss him back, and that kiss from this man who had once been the closest thing to Josh-yet was now miles away-became the one light in her life during those dark days.
They lay there holding each other in such a tender way that when Zach dropped by later, he felt his heart sink for his baby brother, because he got tired of watching one soul hurt as much as Josh had been hurt in this lifetime for no other reason than that the stars seemed aligned against him.
The word martyr crossed his mind as he thought of Josh, and he was angry at Jessie Wheeler that night. Little did he know that Stephen, to her, was Josh. He was the closest she could come to her man and, at that point, she was taking what the stars had to give.
***
Chapter Twenty-One
It was a week before Jessie was released from hospital. At the end of her care and supervision at St. Paul’s, she was finally given the all clear from the very real risk of internal injuries such as potential kidney failure. Deuce’s boots were hard and his temper out of control. The doctors reminded her she was lucky. That she barely escaped serious - potentially fatal - injury. A sarcastic laugh was their patient’s immediate reaction. Lucky? Her? Jessie thought she survived because Deuce was so angry and blind drunk that he was off balance and lacked the power to really nail her good. She wondered if it was also because, as warped as it seemed, the Southerner loved Jessie and didn’t want to kill her. She now understood that, for him, life would be unbearable without her in it. And that was what gave her all the power-the power to protect Josh. For, to her, life would be unbearable without Josh in it, regardless of the distance with which she had to keep him for now.
Stephen hung out with Jessie a lot at the hospital and then, after her release, at the downtown condo. He could tell it was starting to wear on Sophie’s nerves, partly because of the time he was physically away, and then because his mind was usually somewhere else when he and Sophie were in the same space. But he didn’t have the energy to draw himself back to her. What had happened to Jessie left him damaged and shaken. As far as he and the rest of the world knew, Josh was still responsible. His best friend had committed this heinous assault. The only place Steve wanted to be was by Jessie’s side, where he could keep an eye on her as if somehow it would erase the hurts his friend had caused.
Around two weeks after the assault, in the second week of September, Jessie was supposed to sing at a house party in honor of Jonathon’s birthday. The party was being held at his home not far down the beach from Josh’s place. Everyone from Drifters was invited, cast and crew, as well as a myriad of business associates and friends. Dee dropped over to Jessie’s condo a few days before. Over a glass of sparkling apple cider on the outdoor balcony, she casually dropped the fact that no one still expected Jessie to sing. She wasn’t surprised when Jessie regarded her expectantly.
“I haven’t forgotten about the party, Dee. I want to do it.”
Dee sized her up. Jessie had changed over these last few weeks. She had evolved from happy-go-lucky to scared and unapproachable in June, to an alcoholic workaholic all summer, to the girl before Dee now - an angry Jessie. There was a fire in her eyes that hadn’t been there all summer. The timid, frightened girl seemed somehow to have found some deeply buried pot of courage throughout this latest ordeal. She rarely, if ever, smiled, and she never talked about what happened to her. She kept Dee on topics of safe conversation, such as confirming her schedule for the fall and winter, although she seemed only half-heartedly interested. Generally when Dee dropped by Jessie’s mind was somewhere else. She was very unhappy, and would sit with her arms wrapped around he
r belly staring out at the Vancouver horizon, absent-mindedly watching massive cargo ships navigate their way to English Bay and on down Burrard Inlet, and listening to buzzing bush planes take off and land on the Inlet’s watery runway. But then, wherever her mind would take her (Dee could only guess), a fire would light in her eyes, even if only temporarily. Charles told Dee he thought that was a good sign. It had been more than a few months since they’d seen any of Jessie’s sparks.
Jessie spoke again. “Can you call Christian and ask him to come over on Saturday? I have a new song I’d like to work out with him. We can try it out at the party.”
Relief washed over Dee. Her distant girl was still interested in singing. That was a good thing too, wasn’t it? She nodded. “Sure. I’ll see what he’s up to Saturday. What’s the best time for you?”
As they discussed a plan for the day, Dee found her own mind wandering. She was a super organizer and a multi-tasker. She told herself not to forget to ask Matt to tell his staff to leave the condo door open whenever any male visitor was in Jessie’s place, whether it be Christian or Steve or Carter or any of her Drifters friends. That was another sad part of all of this. Since the attack Dee didn’t trust any men around Jessie. In her heart she still thought Josh was the culprit, that he had found Jessie with someone else that night, someone whose name Jessie wanted kept out of the papers, logically, since it could have been a married man or a celebrity or whomever, although Matt told them he had dropped Jessie off himself and that she was alone.
Jesus, Dee didn’t even trust Matt. Maybe it was he who Jessie had sex with that night, she caught herself thinking at times. He was the last of their group to be seen with her after the concert. But then again, she reasoned, the doctors told them Jessie’s sex that night was indeed non-consensual, and that the resulting tears and injuries were severe. Dee could not imagine Matt or anyone in Jessie’s circle of male friends and co-workers hurting her that way. She would have still blamed Josh, though, had he not been officially cleared. There were others who did still blame him. Dee felt a little bad about that, but only a little. There were limits as to how far her tired brain and heart wanted to go to forgive Josh, until she knew the entire truth.
Promises Page 24
