JAKE

by Juliette Jones

  I’m surprised to see Camille’s eyes fill with tears. “He is?”

  “Yes. He looks tough and comes across as kind of mean sometimes, but he’s not. Not at all. He’s kind. Just incredibly kind and thoughtful.”

  A gray tear inks its way down her cheek. “I just thought … he’s so incredibly hot – I’m sorry, I shouldn’t even say that to you, but he is. You obviously know that. But, well, I just fell for him the first second I saw him. And I really thought there was something between us that night at the charity dinner. I wanted there to be something between us. So badly. I wrote to him, but he never wrote back. All I wanted was one date, so I could convince him. I really thought I could, but he would never, ever reply.” She’s crying in earnest now. “I shouldn’t be telling you all this, but I was: I was heartbroken. And angry. How could he just ignore me like that? I’ve had such terrible, terrible luck with men. To tell you the truth, it’s driving me insane. Why are they all such assholes?”

  “Yeah, a lot of them are,” I agree. I notice her plate is empty so I serve her another slice. “I’m sorry it’s been so hard for you. I can see you’ve had a tough time.”

  “I have. I really have.” She’s sniffling. I hand her a napkin and she blows her nose loudly. “I’m so sick of serial dating a bunch of losers. When I saw Jake, I just …” She breaks down again, sobbing her heart out, like she’s releasing a lot of pent up emotion.

  I shouldn’t: she’s done a lot of damage, but I do it anyway. I pull my chair closer to hers and I give her a hug. It just seems like she needs one. “You’ll be okay, Camille. You’ll find someone. Someone you don’t have to blackmail into being with you. That was never going to work.”

  She’s sobbing again. “I know. God, I know that. I was just so fucking frustrated. And so lonely.”

  “Will you drop the charges and stop stalking him and threatening him? You’re better than that, I know you are. You’ve got some mad skills, girl. You should use them for good instead of evil.”

  “I know. I know. You’re right.”

  I use one of the napkins to wipe away some of her ruined make-up. “You look so pretty without all that stuff on your face,” I say. “Look at you, you’re gorgeous.”

  “I am?”

  “Of course you are. You don’t need to blackmail someone into being with you. Just be kind to them. Help them. Show them who you really are. Show them the best of you.”

  She pulls off one of her fake eyelashes that’s become wonky from her tears. Then she pulls off the other one. “You’re right,” she sniffles. “I don’t know why I did it. I guess I felt like any attention was better than none. But you’re right. I’ve behaved so badly. I think I went a little crazy, because he’s so good-looking and I just imagined he was everything I’d ever wanted in a man even though I barely even knew him and it was obvious that he wasn’t interested but I don’t know … I just … wanted someone to pay attention to me. It was irrational. Stupid. I regret so much, but once I started, I didn’t know how to backtrack.”

  “I have a feeling you’ll get more attention than you know what to do with if you just let your guard down a little and treat people, well … nicely.” I may have been raised with old-fashioned morals but it makes sense, after all. It’s hardly rocket science.

  Camille uses the napkins to wipe more of her smeared eye make-up off. She blows her nose again. Then she seems to recover a little. “All right.”

  “All right?”

  “I’ll leave him alone. I’ll send the emails.”

  “Camille, you won’t regret it. Jake might even forgive you, in time. If you do the right thing, starting now.”

  She seems to make a decision. She opens the top drawer of her desk and hands me a silver flashdrive. “This is it. Can you give it to Jake for me? I didn’t make any copies of anything. And I’ll send out the emails today. They’ll clear his name completely, and clear him of all charges. There’s one directed at the judge, too, so Jake should get his two million in bail money back by the end of the week, I would think. The emails will be sent from an anonymous server but they’ll provide all the necessary evidence. As for his business idea, I’ve left that out of the press release I’ll send to the New York Times but I did share a few details with my brother and he thinks Jake is sitting on an incredibly valuable idea.”

  There’s a knock at the door and we both turn to look as someone walks in without waiting for an answer.

  It’s a young guy, probably about my age, with short black hair and little round glasses. “Oh,” says Camille. “You’re here. Speak of the devil. Sugar, this is my brother Ryan. The one I was just telling you about.”

  Ryan shakes my hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You too,” I say. Ryan’s gaze lands on the pie. “Would you like some?”

  “I could eat ten pies right now,” he says and proceeds to devour what’s left of the pie. “Holy hell, this is good,” he says with his mouth stuffed full.

  “I was just telling Sugar – she knows Jake Wolfe,” says Camille, “about what you said about his app.” To me: “Ryan builds apps.”

  “You build apps?” I say.

  “He just graduated from Harvard,” says Camille. “And now he’s looking for a job. Or looking to create a job, one or the other.”

  “Jake’s looking for help building his new app,” I hear myself saying.

  Ryan swallows. “I would kill to build that app. I could totally nail it.”

  Camille looks at me, soulfully. “Sugar. I promise: I’ll take care of everything I said I’d take care of. Right now. Jake will never have to see me or hear from me ever again. I’ll send him one more letter and apologize, for real. If you could just put in a good word for my brother – he’s an awesome kid, totally brilliant. He’s got an IQ of 180 and graduated near the top of his class. He would be perfect for Jake’s project. Absolutely perfect. Please say you’ll consider it.”

  “Of course I’ll consider it.” I knew the pie would work. I could call Jake right now, but when I take out my phone I notice the battery’s dead. I should get going anyway. Jake will be finished with his meeting soon and I want to get back to the bakery before he does, so he doesn’t start worrying about me. It probably wasn’t the smartest move to sneak out without any protection, with things still unresolved with the A-hole, but this was worth it. “I’ll talk to him about it.”

  Camille surprises me by giving me a hug. “Thank you, Sugar. He won’t regret it. Please tell him … I’m sorry. And that he’s a lucky man, having found you.”

  A strange turn of events, yes. It just goes to show that my Grandma Mae is right about pretty much everything. If you go out of your way to be kind to people, they’ll usually be kind right back.

  Alexander presents our ultimatum to the lawyers, who will deliver the news to Camille. I’m so fucking over this.

  Alexander leaves and before I go across to the bakery, I turn the corner. I stop in to inspect the four apartments that are on the second and third floors of the building that houses Sugar’s restaurant. The one she now owns. I make a few phone calls to get the ball rolling. The apartments are huge and light-filled, with a glass-roofed solarium in the middle of all four. I have a good idea for these.

  Then I make my way back to the bakery.

  I step inside.

  It’s quiet. I call out to her but there’s no answer.

  I search the kitchen. Nothing. Then I notice that the back door is open a crack. I checked that door first thing this morning, to make sure it was locked.

  I look out to see the white van still parked on the street in front and my blood goes cold.

  I just know. I know where she’s gone.

  I storm out the back door. It leads out to an alley with several large dumpsters. How could you? How could you put yourself in danger like this? Please be okay. Please please please be okay.

  I call her number but she doesn’t answer. I’m starting to fucking panic now and I run to the street to wave down a taxi. An
d just as I get there, I see her. My girl, stepping out of a cab, looking like a goddess being born from a bright yellow seashell. My Aphrodite. She sees me and she smiles at me.

  My eyes rove her body to make sure she’s okay. She hasn’t been harmed. She looks as radiant as ever. She’s safe.

  And then, at the exact same time those words play through my mind, I sense them before I even see them. Three men, stepping out of a black car that pulls up just as her vacant cab drives away. Two beefed-up thugs and Butch Flint himself.

  No.

  But before I can reach her, one of the thugs slings his arm around Sugar and holds a gun to her ribs. Under his coat, he’s showing me this. So no one else on the street can see. To me, he says in a low voice, “One word, one flinch, and I’ll pull this trigger. The gun’s cocked and I’ve got a real itchy finger, so don’t try me, Wolfe. Just do what you’re told.”

  Sugar’s eyes go wide and she makes a little sound as the gun digs deeper.

  Flint smiles at me.

  “Let her go,” I plead and I can hear my own desperation. “I’ll come with you. Anything you want. Just let her go.”

  “Now why would I do anything as foolish as that?” Flint snorts. “We both know she’s leverage. Walk into that alley, so we can discuss this privately.”

  He and the thugs follow me as I walk back into the alley, behind two large dumpsters that almost entirely block our view of the street. Sugar’s pale but she’s not crying. She looks more angry than she does scared. “If you harm a hair on her head, I’ll kill you,” I tell the thug.

  “I want my phone back,” Flint says.

  “I can get it for you. Just let her go and we can discuss this reasonably.”

  “Reasonably?” he squawks. “I don’t take kindly to punks like you stealing my personal property and roughing me up.”

  “I can get your phone. Let Sugar go. Just let her walk away and I’ll take you to the phone. Right now.”

  Flint smiles and looks at the second thug. “You know what? I don’t like the way this punk is talking to me. He thinks he’s tough. He thinks he can take other people’s valuables and get the upper hand on Butch Flint. But you know what? He’s wrong. Lefty, let’s teach him a lesson.”

  Lefty punches me in the stomach.

  Fuck. I can see why they call him Lefty. I double over and as I do Lefty jabs his elbow between my shoulder blades. The blow jars me but I’ve had worse. I could retaliate. I’m almost as big as Lefty. I could deliver a punch to his jaw that would probably bring him down. I didn’t spend seven years learning to box and earning my black belt for nothing.

  But I don’t retaliate. They might hurt Sugar.

  So I take it. I let him hit me and when he brings me down and kicks me twice in the stomach and once in the head, I groan but then I get back up again.

  Sugar’s crying. “Butch! Stop it! Please! We’ll get the phone. Please stop hurting him!”

  “We’ll keep the girl while you go and get my phone,” Butch says to me. “She and I have some unfinished business to attend to anyway.”

  Over my dead body. “No. Let her go. Then I’ll go and get your phone. That’s the only way this is going to play out. When she’s safe and away from you, you fucker. Then you can have it.”

  The thug who’s holding Sugar points the gun at me. So I take my chance. I’m pretty quick at my best and I can only hope the blow to my head hasn’t messed too badly with my equilibrium. I rush the guy and grab his gun.

  There’s a lot of commotion. A very loud noise. Someone screams.

  I don’t even feel the pain of it, just the heat. It’s fucking hot. And then I feel the spreading warmth of my own blood. The ground rushes up to meet me and I don’t even care because she’s here with me. On top of me. She’s pulling open my shirt. Her hands are red. If only she didn’t look so upset. I can’t have my girl crying like this. I try to tell her everything’s okay. But the darkened periphery of my vision starts to close in and I wish I could kiss her but before I can the world goes black.

  “No. Jake! Jake.” There’s so much blood. The bullet has gone into the side of his stomach and I can’t see if it’s come out his back. I swipe away my tears to get a better look. It’s a small, neat hole, pooling with blood. I bunch up a wad of his shirt and hold it onto the hole with my thumb, applying pressure. He’s unconscious and I look up to see that Butch and the other two men are gone.

  “Help!” I scream. “Please help me!” People are wandering into the alley. “Please! Please call an ambulance!”

  Someone is.

  “Jake. You’re going to be okay, Jakey. Stay with me. Please stay with me. Everything’s going to be okay. Help is coming.” I keep my fingers pressed onto his wound, praying. Did it come out the other side? Did it hit one of his vital organs? God, there’s so much blood.

  The ambulance arrives and someone pulls me away from him so they can put him on a stretcher. I climb into the ambulance and sit close to him as they work on him, as they put needles into his arm and put clean bandages on his wound, pressing on it. “You did good,” says one of the paramedics. “We’ll do everything we can.”

  When we get to the hospital they wheel him away into the operating room and I sit down on a chair in the waiting room. I don’t know his brother’s number. My phone’s dead. I ask the nurse at the desk if I can use a charger and she hands me one. I plug in my phone and google Wolfe Enterprises. I call the number.

  “Wolfe Enterprises.”

  “I need to speak to Alexander Wolfe.”

  “I’m sorry, he’s unavailable. Would you like to leave a message for one of his secretaries?”

  “His brother’s been shot. I need to talk to him immediately.”

  Silence. “Hold on just a second. I’m going to put you through to his private number right now.”

  “Thank you.”

  I wait a few seconds while the call goes through. “Hello?” Alexander’s voice sounds a little bit like Jake’s. It’s got that husky edge to it.

  My eyes fill with tears. “Alexander? It’s Sugar Malone. Jake’s been shot. We’re at the hospital. They’re operating.” I can barely even say it. “I don’t know if he’s okay. He was –” My throat works hard and I can’t seem to speak.

  “Sugar? What hospital are you at? I’m coming now. Just tell me where you are.”

  I look up at the sign and tell him the name.

  “Okay. I’m on my way.”

  So I sit there and wait and let the tears fall. There are so many of them. I can’t seem to slow them down. That bullet hole was my fault. I’m the one who got him into this mess. Why did he try to grab the gun? I want to tell him he should never have done that. That was just plain dumb. I want to kiss him and tell him he needs to smarten up.

  Alexander rushes in and I stand up. He puts his hands on my shoulders and gives them a little squeeze. “Where is he?”

  “They’re still operating. The bullet went into his stomach.” I’m crying again and Lila’s here, too. She’s hugging me and smoothing my hair.

  “I’m going to go see what I can find out,” says Alexander.

  Lila takes me into the bathroom and cleans me up a little. My hands are shaking, still covered in blood. She washes my face. She takes a top out of her bag and helps me change into it. I didn’t even realize my clothes were in such bad shape.

  When we get back to the waiting room Alexander’s there, pacing. “They expect his surgery to take at least another hour. The bullet was still in there. They can’t tell us any more than that until the doctors are finished operating.”

  He goes and gets us some coffee and we sit there waiting and I tell them everything that happened.

  “The emails from Camille came through just before you called me,” he says. “All charges and allegations are cleared. Jake’s a free man.”

  If he lives.

  None of us say it.

  Alexander says, “We’ve uncovered enough dirt on Butch Flint to put him away for a very long time
.”

  I guess that’s good news. But it doesn’t feel like good news. Nothing feels good. Not without Jake. Goddamn him, he can’t die on me. I love him so much. I need him. I want to spend the rest of my life with him and marry him and have his babies and grow old with him. I need him to live. The hot, silent tears just keep on falling.

  After what seems like several lifetimes, a doctor walks down the hall and into the waiting room. We all stand up. “It missed his liver by millimeters. We’ve taken out his spleen, which was ruptured. The entry wound itself was fairly clean and there was no exit wound so the suturing was fairly straightforward. I expect him to make a full recovery.”

  I’m so relieved my knees sort of give out and I sit down on my chair. Alexander shakes the doctor’s hand.

  “He’s still in recovery but he can have visitors once he wakes up,” the doctor tells him. “Go home and eat something. Come back around eight.”

  Alexander and Lila take me back to their apartment. I take a shower and Lila gives me some clean clothes to wear. None of us say much. I think we’re so relieved, we’re all a little overcome by it. He’s going to make a full recovery. He’s going to be okay. This realization is so profound to me I feel like I’ve been completely torn apart and reassembled. My pieces fit together differently now. Everything has become about being with him and getting our happy ever after. I can give him that and that’s all I want to do.

  When we finally arrive back at the hospital Jake’s been moved to a private room. He’s awake, propped up in a reclining hospital bed in his hospital gown with his cuts and bruises and his muscles and tattoos. He looks so gorgeous I can hardly breathe. He smiles when I walk in.

  Alexander gives him a brotherly hug and swears at him in the most endearing way I’ve ever heard for giving us such a fright. Lila kisses his cheek.