by J. D. Mason
Ellis was in her face, searching for the truth in her eyes. Daneen refused to even look at him. She wouldn’t let him touch her.
“I can’t,” she whispered.
He swept her long, blond hair from her face, put his hand under her chin to try and force her to look at him, but she jerked away, turned away, drew her legs up underneath her, and curled up in the corner of the sofa.
His heart pounded. Ellis felt helpless. There was no worse feeling in the world than feeling helpless when the woman you love needs something you can’t give her.
He was going to marry this woman. She and Ellis had talked about it, they’d made plans, but all of a sudden, Daneen shut down on him and wouldn’t tell him why.
“Baby, I’m here,” he said, getting down on his knees on the floor in front of her. “I’m here for you, Daneen, like I always said I would be. Whatever it is, baby, I can fix it. But I can’t if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”
She shook her head.
“Don’t do this to me, D,” he pleaded. “Don’t shut me out like this. Please. You’ve got to trust me. I’m the man you said you’d marry, baby. If you love me then you won’t shut me out.”
Maybe in his gut he knew. Ellis just needed to hear her say it. And when she did, the whole world turned red.
She finally turned to him and stared back at him with those ocean-blue eyes, flooding with tears, and his heart began to break.
“I—I was … raped, Ellis.” The words came out small, soft, but fell to the floor like lead.
Daneen broke down in a flood of tears and tried to curl up inside herself instead of reaching out to him.
“Oh, God!” she wailed, shaking and sobbing.
He wanted to touch her, but couldn’t. He wanted to hold her, but … “Who?”
She didn’t want to tell him. Daneen knew what Ellis would do, but he persisted until she finally said a name.
They said he’d found Vince at his girlfriend’s house. Ellis didn’t remember. He did remember blood, and the sounds of people screaming. He remembered sirens, and his arms being pulled behind his back. He remembered the cold steel of the handcuffs and being shoved into the back of a squad car. The last thing he saw before the car pulled away was Vince lying on a gurney being loaded into the back of an ambulance.
He shouldn’t have felt guilty. Vince was a fucking rapist who deserved what he got. But there was always that small, nagging voice in the back of Ellis’ mind, even to this day, gnawing at him, and telling him that he went too far. Vince Henderson was paralyzed from the neck down now. He couldn’t even feed himself or breathe on his own. Ellis only lost seven years of his life, but Vince lost it all. And Daneen? She’d tried to be there for Ellis. She did her best to write to him, and even visited a few times, but eventually the letters stopped coming and so did she. By the time he was released, she’d moved out of Blink, and he’d heard she’d gotten married and even had a couple kids.
“Rita made me an apple pie,” Brooks said, the sound of his voice breaking through Ellis’ thoughts.
Rita was one of Brooks’ lady friends. They loved cooking for him.
“Pretty good. Apple. Wanna piece?”
Ellis shook his head. “Naw. I’m good.”
CHAPTER 8
Drew Jones looked every bit a lawyer and possible future mayor. Cristina had a good idea that that was the role he was gunning for, at least for starters. Clean-cut, smooth, dark skin, well-built, lean, and athletic. He had to have been at least six-one, maybe six-two. They sat inside a small cafe, talking over coffee.
“He’s a big deal now, I hear,” Drew said about Ellis.
“Yes,” she agreed, nodding. “He’s a huge deal to people who don’t live in Blink, which I find surprising.” She smiled.
Drew shrugged. “We’re country folk.” He laughed. “Who don’t know a damn thing about the world of international art or whatever.”
“Well, Ellis is the golden boy of international art right now. And of all the reporters who’ve tried to get an interview with him, I won.”
Drew didn’t respond. He stared back at her with a half-smile on his face.
“So you and Ellis grew up together,” Cristina said, repeating what he’d told her earlier.
“Yeah. Me, Ellis, and Vince.” His voice trailed off at the mention of Vince’s name.
“Vince Henderson?”
He nodded.
“Ellis and Vince had been friends?” Now, that was news.
“The best of friends, as boys. Vince’s mom was the housekeeper for the Brewers, and she’d bring Vince and me over when she couldn’t get anybody to watch us.”
“You and Vince are brothers.”
“Cousins,” he clarified. “But his mother raised me. The three of us, me, Ellis, and Vince were like brothers.”
“What was he like? Ellis?”
He laughed. “That boy was always getting into trouble. And he was always getting us into trouble too. He was hardheaded.” Drew’s gaze drifted across the room as he recalled his memories. “Ellis’ old man was always snatching off his belt and calling Ellis into the house for something he’d done. Sometimes, he’d call all three of us and beat our asses until one or all of us confessed. Fingers always pointed back to Ellis.”
Ellis the rebel.
“What was Vince like?” she probed.
Ellis wouldn’t talk about Vince. She’d thought about reaching out to him personally, but for some reason, Cristina couldn’t bring herself to do it.
“Vince worshipped Ellis,” he said sadly. “Truth be told, I was the odd man out when it came to those two. They included me because they had to, and it was all right. But I knew that when it came down to it, it was Vince and Ellis against the world.”
“Were you there the night that Ellis attacked Vince?”
“No,” he said remorsefully. “But the next morning it was all over the news. Everybody in town knew about it.”
“Were you surprised?”
He caught Cristina off guard and shook his head. “Not really.”
“Why not?”
“Daneen and Ellis were drama. They were walking, talking drama and wherever they went, it followed. They fought constantly, screaming and yelling and cussing. It didn’t matter where they were. One minute they were broken up, and the next they were getting married, and it went on like that for years.” All of a sudden, Drew looked uncomfortable. “Does he know you’re talking to me?”
“Ellis?” She shook her head. “No.”
He looked worried, like he’d said too much. But she couldn’t let him stop. Not now. He was providing too much insight into the kind of man Ellis had been before prison, and she couldn’t help but be curious as to how much of that carried over after his release.
“They had a volatile relationship, Ellis and Daneen?”
“It was interesting. Don’t get me wrong. I think they did love each other, but it was just not an easy relationship, and they both seemed okay with that.” He sighed. “Daneen—beautiful, beautiful woman, but…”
“But?”
“She knew it. And he had a jealous streak in him, but nobody blamed him. She was gorgeous. Daneen knew how to push his buttons. It was almost like a game they played. You know? When she wasn’t getting enough attention from him, she’d bat her eyes at the wrong dude just to piss him off.”
She got the distinct feeling that he was making an implication about something he didn’t want to admit out loud. So, Cristina just got straight to the point.
“Do you believe that Vince raped her?”
Drew froze, and then visibly swallowed. “She told Ellis he did. That’s all she needed to do.”
Damn! Cristina suddenly felt sick to her stomach. What did it mean? Had Ellis attacked a guy, crippled him, solely based on accusations made by his attention-hogging girlfriend?
“He must’ve believed her,” she finally said. “To do what he did, she would’ve had to have been convincing, and I don’t think that she could�
��ve faked it well enough to make him—”
“No.” His demeanor quickly changed. “No, you’re right.”
Cristina quietly worked hard to compose herself. “Do you and Ellis ever talk?”
“Now? Since he’s been home?”
She nodded.
The corners of his mouth turned down. “No.”
“But you’re close to his father. You never cross paths?”
“Ellis and his father don’t cross paths. So, no. I mean, we see each other, and we keep it moving.”
“So, you don’t know how prison might have changed him?”
He hesitated before finally responding. “I know that Ellis went in with a three-year sentence. He comes out seven years later. I’d venture to say that he wasn’t exactly a model prisoner.”
* * *
Cristina sat in the cafe long after Drew had left. He’d certainly shed a different colored light on Ellis Brewer. She’d been so enamored by his talent and charm that she’d been blind to it, but of course, everything he’d said made sense. Ellis had been out of prison for two years, and maybe it had changed him and given him a Zen kind of appreciation for life now, but was it really possible to erase everything he’d been before?
What kind of a man beats another man nearly to death? Even if his girlfriend had been raped by Vince, which Cristina was starting to doubt, but even if she had been, at some point, shouldn’t common sense have kicked in and told Ellis to stop before it was too late? Shouldn’t it have sent him to the police instead of running all over town looking for Vince?
She’d been such a terrible judge of character. Cristina had sworn that she’d learned from her mistake with Brian, but she had almost fallen victim to it again with Ellis. He was a talented artist, and on the surface, a kind and gentle man, but what demons lurked just beneath the surface? And how many men actually came out of prison better?
Cristina had been drawing this out too long. She was only supposed to be here for a few days, and it had turned into nearly a week, a very emotional week, and it was finally time to get her ass back to Austin. She’d write this article for Jules, and put this whole experience behind her. As she was getting up to leave, her phone rang. It was Ellis. Cristina hesitated taking the call, but gave in.
“Hi,” she said, taking a deep breath.
“I was hoping to see you today. We have an interview to finish.”
The sound of his voice made her unexpectedly shudder. “I’ve been busy putting my notes together,” she lied.
“Maybe we can talk over dinner,” he offered.
“Not tonight,” she said hastily. “I’m behind on this deadline, Ellis. Jules is giving me grief.”
“Understood.” He sighed. “Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow. I’ll be by at around noon?”
“See you at noon.”
She was leaving tomorrow. Cristina would stop by one last time but she wouldn’t stay long and after tomorrow, she’d probably never see him again.
CHAPTER 9
Every time he saw Cristina was like seeing her for the first time. She never failed to look absolutely beautiful. Ellis stood on the front porch sipping from a cup of coffee when she pulled up into his driveway and started walking toward him wearing one of those long maxi dresses and sandals. She’d put her hair up again, showing off a simple necklace and hooped earrings. It had only been two days since the two of them had last been together. Felt longer.
“Hey,” she said, stopping at the foot of the steps.
God! He wanted to kiss her, but had good sense enough not to do it.
“You want coffee?” he offered.
“Sure,” she said, following him inside.
She followed him into the kitchen and sat down at the counter. He filled a cup and set it down in front of her, along with cream and sugar and a clean spoon. She checked it out just to be sure.
“I’m leaving tonight, Ellis,” she said out of the blue.
He didn’t like hearing that. Ellis had known that the time would come, but that didn’t mean he wanted it to happen, especially now that he knew her. But Austin wasn’t that far away.
“Jules is bugging me to get this article done, and I have a month to turn it in.”
He raised a brow, surprised. “It’s gonna take you a month to write about me?”
“I’ve recorded a lot of stuff,” she reminded him. “And not just from you.”
“Okay,” he said hesitantly. “So, what does that mean?”
She hesitated while she stirred her coffee. “I spoke to your father,” she eventually said.
Ellis was taken aback. “Why’d you do that?”
“Because he’s your father,” she said nonchalantly.
“I told you, he and I don’t speak.”
“I know, but still…”
It was a little hard not to feel some kind of way about her telling him this. Ellis had told her everything she needed to know about him and his father. There was no reason for her to talk to the man about anything.
“What’d you talk about with him?”
“You.”
He smirked and chuckled a bit. “Naw. My old man wouldn’t have spoken about me to you or anyone else.”
“He was reluctant, but he eventually sort of opened up.”
Ellis didn’t know what to make of this or of the expression on her face. Cristina had always been aloof, but right now, she was almost cold toward him.
“What’d he tell you about me, Cristina?”
“We talked about your work. He said that you’ve always been talented. He even seemed proud.”
She was lying. But why?
“Is that it?” he challenged.
She averted his gaze and took a deep breath. “Daneen never told the police that Vince raped her.”
Ellis just stared at her, wondering where she was going with that statement.
“Why do you think she never told?”
“You’d have to ask her.”
“Didn’t you ever ask her?”
He shook his head slightly. “Never did.”
“That seems strange,” she said, seeming to study him. “I mean, you get arrested for beating the man she claimed raped her, and she doesn’t tell the police what he did?”
Ellis felt himself starting to get defensive for reasons he didn’t quite understand, but it was almost like she was accusing him of something.
“Like I said, you’d have to talk to her about that.”
“I can’t find her,” Cristina shot back, coolly. “I’ve looked, and I have no idea where she is.”
“So, what are you trying to do here, Cristina?” he asked, genuinely confused. “Because I’m getting the feeling that you’re trying to draw some kind of conclusion about something.”
“I’m just trying to understand.”
“Understand what?” he snapped, unexpectedly. “I thought this article you’re writing was about paintings. Not Daneen. Not Vince.”
“It’s about you, Ellis,” she retorted.
“Then why drag my father into this? Why Daneen?”
“I’m trying to get to the core of who you are. That’s what this article’s about.”
“I’ve told you who I am, Cristina.” He leaned over the counter closer to her, and stared into her russet colored eyes. “I’ve shown you.”
“You’ve shown me what you wanted me to see,” she said, bitingly.
“What the hell else am I supposed to show you? What I don’t want you to see?”
“Yes.”
“Who does that?” He straightened up and grimaced. “I’m trying to make a good impression on you. Why the hell would I show you any other side of me except my best one?”
He almost laughed.
She didn’t. Cristina looked pissed. Where was this coming from?
“Who else have you been talking to about me? Vince? His family?”
His stomach twisted in knots at the thought.
“Drew Jones,” she said, folding her arms defens
ively.
“Drew?” He shook his head in disbelief. “I haven’t spoken to Drew in nearly a decade. What the hell did he have to say?”
“You have this thing about not talking to people,” she began. “Either they shut you out or you shut them out. Why is that, Ellis?”
“Sometimes people just don’t get along?” He shrugged. “I guess. Where are you going with this?”
“Both your father and Drew pretty much share a theory.”
“I’m not surprised. They practically share a brain. Drew Jones is the son my father wished he had, but instead he got me. So, I’m not surprised that they think alike.”
“Both of them seem to think that Daneen is a liar and you’re … volatile.”
This time, he did laugh. She just stared at him like he was crazy, but this shit was hilarious. “Of course they think that, because to them, that’s what I am. My father and Drew live by a set of rules that I can’t help but break. I do what I do, Cristina, how I want to do it, right or wrong, and they don’t like it. Never have. Never will. So, what? That’s a problem? Because you’re looking at me like it’s a problem and I’m missing something.”
“Are you a rule breaker, Ellis? Or are you just dangerous?”
He couldn’t believe that they were having this conversation and he still hadn’t quite figured out just what this line of questioning was about.
“I haven’t had a good sit-down with Drew or my father since before I was locked up. Was I a bad kid? Yeah. Was I a knucklehead when me and Drew used to hang out and party? Sure. But what’s any of that got to do with who I am now? Believe it or not, prison changes people.”
Cristina was all caught up in some web spun by talking to people who had no idea of the man Ellis had become. He’d made some fucked up decisions when he was younger, and he’d paid dearly for them. But she was putting too much emphasis on things that didn’t matter anymore, which surprised him considering the fact that she was supposed to be this award-winning objective reporter. That repugnant expression on her face was cute on her, though.
He came around the counter and stood next to her and leaned in close. “I assure you, Cristina Cole, that you know me better than any of those bastards.” She was close enough to kiss, and so he did.
