Out Bad

by Janice M. Whiteaker

  She shook her head. “It was like a--”

  She rubbed her eyes, trying to smudge away the vision in front of her. “It was a meeting with a therapist.” She spit out the words quickly before they got all muddled up again.

  “Oh.” He dropped his hand and stepped to one side of the door. “Come in and tell me about it.”

  Gwen stood for a minute staring at the doorway before her. Going in to the place he lived felt intimate, significantly more intimate than it had when he was in her house. Once she crossed that threshold, she was in his world as much as he was in hers. That was why she was here. He’d always come to her. It was time for her to show him she was in this as much as he was.

  In two steps, she was through the door. As she moved past him, she let her bare arm brush against his body. The almost black hair that covered his chest like a fine mist was surprisingly soft against her skin. She thought she heard him quietly suck in a breath as their bodies connected.

  The thought that he might be just as affected by her made her breath quicken. She kept moving into the house afraid of what she would do if she stayed too close to him right now. She didn’t want to get distracted by him. At least not just yet.

  Joe looked down and rubbed his stomach as if he just realized he was missing his shirt. “Sorry.”

  He ducked into a room to the side and came back pulling a t-shirt over his head. “I was cleaning out the fridge and spilled something.”

  Well thank God for that.

  She watched as he tugged his shirt down over the last little bit of exposed flesh, both disappointed and relieved. Hopefully now she would be a little bit more articulate.

  “So can I assume you found my address the same way you found out about my, um…”

  “Incarceration?”

  “Yes.”

  She nodded. “That’s sort of why I’m here.” She took a deep breath as she tried to find the right words. “How did that happen?”

  He shifted on his feet. “Well, what do you already know? I can start there.”

  She shrugged. “Not much. They used pretty generic wording on the charges.” She glanced around the room as she spoke. They were in the middle of an eat-in kitchen straight out of the seventies. From the dark wood-look cabinets to the busy gold linoleum covering the floor it reminded her of the kitchen in the house she grew up in.

  A vase full of beautiful flowers sat on the counter. She wandered over and sniffed at the full white roses. The card caught her eye. Actually, it was the handwritten name in perfect block letters on the envelope.

  Gwen.

  She turned to face him.

  “I picked those up last night.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

  She fingered the velvety petals. “They’re beautiful.” She took one more breath of rosy scent. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Joe nodded his head toward the doorway that led to the front of the house. “Come and sit down.”

  He followed behind her as she went into the living room. It was a big space, probably intended to be a dining room where it met the kitchen and a living room at the front near the door. Joe used it as mostly living room with an office area in one corner where a long desk sat flanked by filing cabinets and topped with a computer. A pretty nice computer too.

  She headed for the extremely large sectional that took up most of the room and sat at one end. Joe stood for a minute before sitting toward the bend, more than a few feet away from her.

  It was hard to tell if it was her coming here or the prospect of discussing his less than stellar past that had him upset. She began to regret her decision to come here when he dropped a bomb that was nothing like what she expected to hear.

  “I went to prison because I wouldn’t testify against the gang I was in when they were investigated for trafficking.”

  ****

  Joe swallowed hard. This could go one of two ways. Gwen would either give him the opportunity to explain himself or she would run for the hills. Either would be understandable, but selfishly he prayed she was strong enough to want to know more.

  She blinked at him a couple times as his words hung in the air between them. She sat silently for long enough that he almost started to explain, but he held his lips tightly together, unwilling to force a very difficult story on her if she wished to remain happily oblivious to the things that happened in this world.

  Finally a look of confusion furrowed her brow. “Why in the world wouldn’t you testify against them if they were doing something that awful?”

  “They would have killed me.”

  She probably thought he was being paranoid, but it was the truth. He’d seen it happen as a terrified eighteen-year-old kid, only realizing what he’d signed up for when it was too late.

  Gwen stared at him, her face paler than normal, the brightness in her eyes gone as the truth of what he'd been a part of sank in. “I think I need you to explain what happened because I’m having a tough time reconciling the person I think I know and someone who would be a part of something like… that.” Her voice was quiet as she spoke her words slowly.

  “Okay.” A million times he had run through this conversation in his head. He’d known this day would come and wanted so badly to explain to someone how this happened to him and have them understand. Realize it wasn’t that he was a terrible person, just someone who’d made terrible choices.

  It was a story he’d never told anyone outside the groups he attended while inside. Then, he was explaining it to other people just like him. Others, who were both victims of circumstance and their own bad choices.

  Now, for the first time he was going to have to explain it to someone who may not understand how a good person could end up doing bad things. Even worse, it was someone he cared about. Someone he wanted to care about him, someone he wanted to trust him. Gwen might not find that possible after today.

  “Just start at the beginning.” He felt the warmth of her hand as she slid it into his. She’d moved closer to him on the couch, bringing the distance between them to inches instead of feet. Her light emerald eyes filled with both fear and concern.

  Guilt flooded him. He’d waited too long to tell her. He wanted to explain before she risked becoming attached, when she would have easily walked away without pain or sadness. He could see from the look in her eyes, that chance was long gone.

  He shook his head as he tugged his hand from hers and went to stand across the room, putting the couch between them, needing to be away from her.

  She needed to be able to leave at any moment if she wanted and if she was within reach, he would try to stop her. “When I was eighteen I was struggling to figure out where I fit in. We moved around a lot so I didn’t really have many friends. After I graduated I got a job at a bike shop, cleaning-up and helping the guys, doing grunt work, whatever they needed.”

  “I used my first couple checks to buy an old bike I could fix up. I started to ride around with some of the guys who worked there and they kind of took me under their wing. They started showing me some of the stuff they did on the side. I didn’t realize at the time what was really happening.”

  “You didn’t realize it was a gang?”

  “Not initially. My dad was real strict. I didn’t know much about the way things were. I pretended to. I wanted these guys to be my friends so I went along with whatever they said, acting like I knew. By the time I figured it out, I was too far in to get out easily.”

  Now came the worst part. The part he’d never really admitted to anyone. He’d only just recently accepted it himself, but if he was going to be the man he wanted to be, the kind of man Gwen deserved, he would have to lay everything out, ugly and all.

  “By then I didn’t want out.” He watched her face waiting for a reaction. She just sat silently, waiting for more.

  “I had friends, men who had my back, someplace I belonged.” He hesitated, not wanting to admit the worst of it.

  “I liked the money and the attention. The other gu
ys all liked me. I was good at it, toeing the line and keeping things moving the way they needed to, so I moved up in rank real fast. Pretty soon I was the guy the president went to when he had something he needed. I handled it, or knew who could.”

  He paused, giving her the chance to process all he was telling her.

  “Did you kill anyone?” Her voice was tight. She chewed on her bottom lip as she squeezed her hands together tightly in her lap.

  “No.”

  A single tear slid down her cheek as she nodded her head. He ran his fingers through his hair. This, seeing the pain he was bringing her, was killing him.

  He wanted to hold her. Tell her how sorry he was. If he’d only known he would find someone like her someday he would have done everything differently. But that wouldn’t be fair to her. This isn’t something he would pressure anyone, especially her, into accepting.

  “I was lucky I guess. Most of the guys in our group were smart enough to do what they were supposed to do and stay out of what they weren’t. The only problems really were with other gangs creeping into our area.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We ran drugs, brought them into our area, and distributed them. If another club came into a place we considered ours, something was done to deter them.”

  “Did you do that?”

  He took a deep breath, blowing it out hard. “Once, at the very beginning. I’ve always been big and a little…”

  “Intimidating?”

  “Yeah. I wasn’t cut out for it." That night was one of the most terrifying of his life. He’d refused to hurt the guy from the offending club and walked away as a fellow member pointed a gun at his back. He’d kept walking.

  "I was better at the business end, so that’s where I stayed.”

  “How’d you get out?”

  “A new guy came in. After a couple years, he hauled me in. Turned out he’d been undercover trying to take down the president of the club. Offered to let me off on what they had on me if I would testify.”

  “And you said no.”

  “That’s right.”

  Gwen sat on the couch, staring at the floor and he waited. There was nothing he could say. The ball was in her court and would be for a while. The reality of it was, she could think she was okay with everything, but six months or a year down the road, when it really hit her what he’d done, she might change her mind.

  “How long did you know he was a cop?”

  Her question came as a surprise. A cautious hope bloomed within him. “Long enough.”

  “Were drugs all the gang dealt in?”

  “At the beginning.”

  “And at the end?”

  He gripped the couch, leaning forward and closing his eyes. Nothing could ever erase the memory of the last time he was at the house. “Girls.”

  "One of the president’s favorite men brought in a group of girls barely out of school. All coked out, all completely unaware of the hell they were about to face. That night I made the call and was picked up and taken to county."

  "You were the one who got in trouble?" Gwen's eyes were wide in disbeleif.

  "In exchange for information that helped them with their investigation and kept their guy on the inside safe, I got reduced jail time, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was that I was out on good terms. The cops made it seem like I took the fall for the drug offences they had on the club." He hung his head.

  Gentle hands pushed his hair back from his face, tucking the sides behind his ears. He opened his eyes. Gwen was on the couch in front of him, her stomach pressed against the back as she looked up at him, tears clinging to her long dark lashes.

  She rested her palms against each side of his face as her eyes searched his, for what he didn’t know. Maybe hoping she could look deep enough to see what was inside. He wished it was possible, but it wasn’t. Only time would be able to erase whatever doubt the truth of his life had created for her.

  Hopefully she would give him that time.

  Eighteen

  There was nothing to say.

  Gwen knew well that words have very little effect on a pain as deep as Joe's.

  She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and pulled her body up against his, tucking her face into his neck. That was all she could do. Hold him.

  His arms came around her back, squeezing her so tight her lungs couldn’t fill completely. But it was okay. There were so many times she’d needed someone to hug her like this. Like they were holding her together, keeping her from falling apart.

  She squeezed him back, holding him as tightly as he held her. She breathed in, closing her eyes and letting his smell burn into her memory. She felt the roughness of his cheek where it scratched against hers as she listened to his slow, deep breaths.

  “Gwen, I-”, his voice was quiet, soft as his lips brushed against her hair.

  “Shhh.” She loosened her grip on him and leaned back. She smiled. “I really like your house.”

  Joe let out a breath and she felt his shoulders relax under her hands. “I’m glad.” He smiled back. “I wasn’t sure what you would think.”

  She let her fingers brush through the ends of his dark hair. “Why is that?”

  He shrugged. “It’s just very different from your house.”

  She raised an eyebrow at him. “My house looks like every other house in the neighborhood. It doesn’t take much to be different.”

  He grinned at her, his mood obviously beginning to lighten. “Fair enough.”

  “Am I allowed to see the rest?”

  “You’re allowed to do anything you want sweetheart.” He gave her a quick kiss on the nose before releasing her.

  She climbed off the couch deciding not to point out that she was not, in fact, allowed to do anything she wanted. She’d tried to do what she wanted. Twice.

  Joe took her hand. “Upstairs first?”

  “Sure.”

  He led her up a partially enclosed flight of stairs that ended in a small hallway with four doorways. The room on her left was bright, but empty. No curtains, no furniture, not even any flooring. Just subfloor.

  The door beside it was a matching bedroom. Empty, but clean and bright. Joe flicked on the light in the room straight ahead and turned to her. “This is the best room in the house.”

  He held out his hand for her to go in first. The smell of fresh paint hung in the air. “Did you just do this?”

  “I did. Heath helped me with the drywall a couple nights.”

  Gwen ran her fingertips over the smooth granite counter. “It’s beautiful.”

  The bathroom was split in two by a door. The front part held a clean lined, weathered grey vanity with double under mount sinks. The counter was swirls of cream and white with pale grey veining.

  In the back section was the toilet and a tub/shower combination. Slate grey tile surrounded the gleaming white bathtub. She turned back to find Joe leaning against the doorjamb, his arms crossed over his chest. “I can’t believe you did all this.”

  He shrugged. “It wasn’t too bad.”

  There was an extra switch by the door. Gwen walked over and flipped it, looking around to see what it turned on.

  “You won’t be able to feel that through your shoes.”

  “Is the floor heated?” She squatted down and laid her palm against the tile, feeling the warmth begin to build.

  Joe nodded. “Gabbi said it would be good for kids.” He clamped his mouth shut.

  “Oh.” Gwen flipped the switch back off. “She would know.”

  Gwen stepped back into the hall. “How many bedrooms are there?”

  Joe pointed at the first two rooms she’d seen and the last remaining door upstairs. “Three up here and one downstairs.”

  “So, four.”

  “Yeah.”

  She chewed on her lip for a second. “Do you plan on filling all of them?”

  He nodded. “I figure the boys can double up.”

  “What?”

  Joe started la
ughing, his voice echoing through the mostly empty rooms. “Not up to the challenge?”

  Gwen marched past him into the last remaining room. The sight of the king size bed covered in a navy blue fitted sheet stopped her. Imagining Joe stretched out on the bed in, hopefully very little, had her thinking she might be willing to give it a hell of a good effort.

  Joe stepped in beside her. “The insulation stinks here. It gets pretty warm up-stairs.”

  Being in a hot bedroom with Joe didn’t actually sound like a bad thing. A hot room would mean fewer clothes on his body and no blankets to get tangled up in. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, then back at the big, empty bed. She sighed.

  He would just turn her down, again.

  “Can I see the rest of the downstairs?”

  Downstairs was the living and dining room, the eat-in kitchen and the laundry room on one side, the fourth bedroom and another bathroom on the other, with the stairs splitting them up the middle.

  “Are you hungry?” Joe leaned on his kitchen counter, her tour of his house ending right back where it started.

  She pulled out the only chair tucked under the kitchen table and sat down. “Are you offering to make me dinner?”

  “I was actually offering to take you to dinner.” He stood up and turned to open his fridge. “I could probably come up with something to make though, depending on how you feel about scrambled eggs and toast.”

  As fantastic as a nice dinner out with Joe sounded, eating scrambled eggs on his couch while he told her about his plans for the house sounded much better. “I love eggs and toast. I actually eat it for dinner a lot.”

  “Well then today is your lucky day because that is exactly what I have in my fridge.” He grinned at her over his shoulder as he pulled out a carton of eggs and butter.

  “Is that okay? I’m just…” She stood up and pushed the chair back under the table before joining him in the kitchen. “I’m just tired. Maybe we can go out tomorrow night?” Tonight she just wanted to be with him. Really be there. Not worrying, not wondering, just listening, appreciating.

  Talking with Jarod was really making her rethink what she’d been doing in her life. At work, with her sister, with Joe. She was beginning to realize maybe he was right. Maybe she had been given a gift. Knowing each second was precious could be a blessing and it was time she started treating it like that, instead of like a curse.