Pierced: Pierced Trilogy Boxed Set

by Lashell Collins

  “We should get together in the kitchen sometime, Samantha. I would be happy to teach you how to make homemade pasta,” Mom says.

  “Really? I would love that, Mrs. Pierce,” Sam gushes.

  “Oh, honey, please call me Olivia.” They smile at each other and I can tell that my mom seems impressed by Samantha. She’s not the empty-headed princess that Mom was expecting.

  “Well, Josh, I know that Samantha has cooked for you at least once so … what’s her specialty?” Mom asks, putting me on the spot instead of Sam.

  I smile as I think about all the meals Sam has cooked for me. “Mmm, I don’t know if it’s her specialty or not but, she makes damn fine steak,” I say looking at Samantha appraisingly and she smiles back at me. “Oh, and her homemade vegetable soup is out of this world!”

  “Really?” Sam says, and she sounds surprised.

  “Yes, really,” I answer her softly, smiling as her green eyes sparkle at me. “Did you think I ate two bowls just to be polite?” She smiles shyly at me, blushing as she chews on her bottom lip.

  As I turn away with a goofy grin, I catch Mom watching us intently, a strange expression on her face. She looks away nervously when she sees that she’s been caught.

  “How old is he?” Sam asks suddenly, watching Pamela with the baby.

  “He’s five months old,” Pam answers, brushing her dark red hair out of her eyes.

  “Josh says you and Paul tried for a long time?”

  “About three years,” Pam replies. “There for a while, it was nothing but ovulation charts and hysterical tears every time the stick didn’t turn blue. Finally, we just gave up. Stopped trying. We talked about IVF and adoption but, both options are just so expensive. But then … just when I thought I’d go nuts from the stress of it all, there he was! This little guy saved mommy’s sanity, didn’t you?”

  Sam smiles compassionately at her as she lightly tugs on the baby’s foot.

  “Would you like to hold him for a minute while I go to the bathroom?”

  “Sure,” Sam smiles brightly, and I watch as Pam gently hands over the cooing baby. He’s sucking on a pacifier and looking around with big light brown eyes, just like Paul’s. But he’s got a light dusting of his mother’s dark red hair on his head. He’s a cute kid, I guess.

  Pam heads off to the bathroom and all is quiet in the kitchen for a moment, and I watch as Sam lightly strokes the baby’s hair. She looks as if she’s fascinated with him, and I am fascinated by her as I watch.

  “You look like a real natural there, Samantha,” Mom says softly, a knowing smile on her face. “That little boy seems very content in your arms.”

  Sam blushes softly, right on cue, and for some reason I don’t fully understand, Mom’s words make me uncomfortable. What is she implying?

  While my mind is busy trying to figure that one out, Phillip and his girlfriend finally arrive and, after a few more introductions, everyone moves into the large dining room where Mom and Aunt Celeste have already set the table. Uncle Paul is seated at the head of the table in his wheelchair and Aunt Celeste sits by his side so that she can feed him while she also eats her own dinner. Mom is at the other end of the table and Samantha sits to her right and then me.

  The conversation is lively as Mom and Aunt Celeste want to hear about how things are going in all their boy’s lives. So, over a hearty dinner of capellini with meat sauce, Phillip tells us how his store is doing and how they’re already preparing for the upcoming holiday season. His girlfriend, Sherry, lets it slip that Phil is being considered for some big promotion that would put him in charge of not just one, but three stores in his district. She makes it sound like it’s a really big deal, although Phillip downplays it, and Aunt Celeste gushes over him. Freaking momma’s boy.

  Paul Jr. regales us with tales of a recent apartment fire downtown that’s been all over the news for the past couple of days. The twenty-story building burned to the ground but, not before the firefighters put many of their own lives in jeopardy in order to get everyone out safely. I shake my head as I listen to him talk.

  “I just don’t get it, man,” I tell him, setting my fork down. “What in God’s name would make an otherwise sane person want to run into a burning building to save someone else? Only a crazy ass person would do that shit!”

  “Oh, here we go,” Paul Jr. smiles and gives an exaggerated wave of his hand. “And what kind of crazy fucker does it take to run around chasing bad guys with guns, possibly taking a chance on getting shot, getting jumped … people hate cops! But…”

  “Everybody loves a fireman!”

  The entire table joins in on this mantra and I chuckle. It’s a friendly argument that Paul Jr. and I have had since … well, forever. And the real truth of the matter is that, even though you couldn’t get us to swap professions for the world, we both have a huge amount of respect for the job the other does. Most police officers and firefighters would say the same. It’s an often symbiotic, sometimes grudging, mutual admiration society.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I say with a sarcastic roll of my eyes and a smirk. And when I glance over at Samantha she is looking around the table and grinning. She smiles broadly at me and I don’t know what she’s thinking but, she appears to be enjoying our banter.

  “What about you, Josh?” Paul Jr. asks, taking a bite of his pasta. “Any interesting cases come your way lately?”

  “Yeah, one or two,” I shrug, not really wanting to talk about me. “Finally caught the two assholes who did that home invasion a month ago.”

  “Oh, yeah. The one with the woman and the baby girl,” he asks, his face twisted into a grimace.

  “Yeah,” I nod hesitantly, thinking about the gruesome details of the case as I take a mouthful of pasta.

  “I saw on the news where those guys had been caught. That was you?”

  “Yeah, that was me and Dave.” I answer him.

  “Okay, let’s not talk about anything gory at the dinner table, please,” Mom speaks up.

  Suddenly Sam touches my thigh, lightly running her hand down to my knee. It’s an innocent gesture as she asks me a question but, it takes me by surprise and my cock twitches involuntarily. “Is that the case you wouldn’t tell me about last week?” she asks softly, and I silently nod my head at her.

  “On the news they said there was some kind skirmish when those guys were arrested,” Paul Jr. continues. “Shots fired or something, and a scuffle?”

  I smirk at him. “Yeah, let’s just say they didn’t give up willingly.”

  “See what I mean?” Paul Jr. says with a small smile. “Crazy motherfucker, volunteering to walk into a gun fight. Burning building might be hot but, at least nobody’s shooting at me.”

  I laugh at his smartass comment as I sit my glass down. When I glance over at Samantha, she is looking at me with big, concerned eyes. “What’s wrong, Sam?” I frown at her.

  She hesitates for a second and then says softly, “I just hadn’t realized you were in danger when you caught those two men.” The worry in her voice takes me by surprise, and I want to erase the fear I see in her gorgeous eyes.

  “I was never in any real danger, baby,” I say quietly, trying to reassure her. I’m not sure she believes me though, and she just stares at me, saying nothing.

  “So, Samantha, do you work at your family’s company?” Mom asks, and I know she’s just eager to change the subject. She doesn’t like to hear about the dangerous part of my job either.

  “Um, no, I don’t,” Sam answers distractedly. “I actually know very little about drilling bits or the inner workings of my family’s company. I work as a docent at the Pryor Art Museum.”

  “Oh.” I can hear the surprise in Mom’s voice.

  “Wait a minute,” Paul Jr. says, his face frowning from curiosity as he puts it all together. “Drilling bits?” Sam and I glance at each other as he’s still figuring it out. “Your family’s company is … into drilling bits?”

  “Yes.” Sam looks anxiously at me again and I g
ive her a small reassuring smile. “Colby Coring.” Her voice sounds small and hesitant to me and I wonder why she’s so nervous. I look over at Paul and his eyebrows have disappeared behind the light brown hair that hangs over his forehead. A quick glance around the table tells me that everyone is stunned by this news. Everyone except Mom, that is.

  “Colby Coring! No shit?” Phillip asks, looking past me to Samantha

  “So, your family is … I mean, you’re … Samantha … Colby?” Paul Jr. is staring at her as if she’s sprouted antennae on the top of her head or something.

  Samantha nods slowly and I can tell she’s all types of nervous now. I reach out and take her hand, giving it a small squeeze, and she smiles shyly at me and glances around the table.

  “Wow,” Pam says softly, looking around to see if anyone else is as taken aback as she is.

  Aunt Celeste has a spoonful of food stopped in midair as she watches us, and my Uncle Paul waits patiently for the mouthful.

  “So your father was Richard Colby, right?” Paul asks, continuing his stunned investigation. “The other one … the blonde that’s in the tabloids a lot … she’s Kenneth Colby’s daughter?”

  “Yes, that’s right,” Sam answers quietly.

  “So you’re Lucas Colby’s sister,” Paul says in astonishment, and Sam nods slowly, saying nothing.

  Okay, this has gone far enough. “I told Samantha she had no reason to feel nervous coming to dinner with me today,” I say with an attitude as I look each one of them in the eye. “You’re all making me a liar.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, honey,” Aunt Celeste speaks first. “Of course, we’re behaving badly; please forgive us, Samantha!”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry, Josh.” Paul Jr. says, still clearly flustered. “Samantha, I’m … just really surprised. But I didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that; it was very rude of me.”

  “It’s okay,” Sam says with a sigh. I look over at Mom, imploring her to do something to make them stop.

  “Uh, so, Samantha … you said that you work at a museum?” Mom says, trying to steer the conversation away from Sam’s family.

  “Yes,” Sam says, brightening. “The Pryor Art Museum.”

  “So you like art?” Mom asks, smiling at her.

  “I love art!”

  “Samantha’s actually a very talented artist, Mom,” I say a bit proudly as I gaze at her and she bites her lower lip and blushes slightly.

  “Really? What sort of art are you into?” Mom asks.

  “Um, I draw mostly,” Sam answers shyly. “But I also paint a little.”

  “Oh, I would love to see some of your work sometime,” Mom says and I smile at their exchange.

  “Oh … I’m not that good really,” Samantha shrugs nervously.

  “Yes, she is that good,” I speak up definitively. “She just refuses to see it for some reason.” Sam is eyeing me as if she can’t believe what I’ve just said. And when I meet her startled stare with an amused gaze of my own, she blushes and looks away bashfully. I can’t help but smile at her. She’s so adorable.

  The rest of our dinner passes uneventfully with lively conversation and laughter, and I think Samantha and I both relax and enjoy ourselves. After our meal, Sam pitches in as we all help clear the table. As I place a small stack of dishes on the counter next to the sink, I notice that she and Mom seem to have hit some kind of stride, chatting away like old girlfriends as they head out of the kitchen together. I’m not sure whether to feel happy or uneasy that they’re getting along so well.

  Following them out into the living room, I watch in disbelief as my mom pulls out the old photo album and they sit together on the couch and begin pouring over it while I stand by the fireplace in dismay, a definite unease settling over me. This cannot be good.

  “Oh, my God, how cute is that picture?” Sam squeals. She looks up at me and smiles and then looks back down at the photo book. “What a beautiful baby,” she says softly.

  “He always was a beautiful little boy,” Mom confirms, and I roll my eyes.

  “I cannot believe you dragged out that photo album,” I growl at her, shaking my head.

  “Well honey, you’ve never given me the pleasure of embarrassing you in front of a girl before,” she smiles. “I have to take advantage of it!”

  I say nothing in response but shake my head again as I smirk at them. The rest of the family trickles into the living room then and scatters about, watching the game on TV or joining in on the Josh Pierce Humiliation by laughing at the old pictures.

  They turn the page and I suddenly see Mom’s expression change. When I glance down at the photo album from my vantage point, I can easily see why. There are pictures of the old man. An old family photo taken when I was about two years old. There are other shots of him on the page as well. One of the two of them together, one of him holding me, another of him at about five or six years old placed next to a photo of me at the same age. They look like pictures of the same little boy.

  “Wow, is that your dad, Josh?” Samantha asks innocently. “He was so handsome. You really do look just like him!”

  I suddenly feel slightly sick and I can taste the bile rising in my throat. Mom quickly turns the page and there is another picture. I’m sitting on a stool in the kitchen, I must have been eight years old at the time and Mom is standing beside me. She’s clearly about six months pregnant in the picture.

  “I … I didn’t know you had another child,” Samantha says hesitantly and Mom flushes nervously. Shit. I can already see where this is going.

  “No, I uh … I lost that baby,” Mom says, offering a small smile as she attempts to regain her composure.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Samantha says apologetically, watching the sorrow in Mom’s eyes.

  Mom puts on a brave face. “Those things just happen sometimes,” she says softly, trying to turn the page and move on. I know why she’s in a hurry to move past that picture and I know that she’s hoping Celeste will keep quiet since Sam’s here but, I glance over at my aunt and I can see it coming. Fuck!

  “Miscarriages just happen, Liv,” Celeste says snidely. “Having a baby beaten out of you does not!”

  “Celeste! That’s enough.” My mom’s sharp look at her sister is as stern as her tone and, for once, Celeste lets it drop. The awkward silence in the room is oppressive and I see Samantha’s shocked expression as her questioning eyes dart from my mom to Celeste and finally, over to me. Fuck!

  I can’t take the thickness of the air in the room anymore and I turn and head to the kitchen and out the back door, stepping outside into the backyard. Once there, I take a couple of deep, uneasy breaths, trying to hold on to my equilibrium and let the anger roll off my back. It’s not working.

  I’m not sure how long I stand here, but I look out at the lawn, seeing images of Danny Pierce and trying not to throw up when I suddenly feel a hand lightly touching my back. Turning, I see Samantha standing behind me. She says nothing as she steps around to face me, a soft green glint in her concerned eyes. She tugs lightly on my white dress shirt at the stomach and looks up at me, smiling softly.

  “Are you okay?” she asks me quietly.

  “Yeah. I just needed some air.” What are the odds that she will let the matter drop without asking any questions? My guess is that there’s zero chance of that happening.

  “Why didn’t you tell me that your mom had lost a baby when I asked if you were an only child?” she asks me softly, and I shrug my shoulders.

  “It’s not something I think about,” I tell her, feeling a little dishonest. “I mean it’s not … something I like to think about.”

  She is silent for a moment and then sighs heavily. “Look, Josh … I know that you don’t like to talk about your dad. And I promised you that I wouldn’t pester you about it. But I feel like I just stepped into a viper’s nest in there with your family, and I have no idea why.”

  She’s looking at me imploringly, as if she’s trying to will me to say something and I know th
at she deserves some sort of explanation about what just happened in there. And as I realize that, I can feel the panic begin to set in. I frown as I nervously run a hand through my hair. I think she can see my distress and she keeps talking. Doing that nervous chatter thing that she does sometimes.

  “At the bar last night, your friend … Lee … he hinted that your dad was abusive.”

  “What?” My voice sounds harsher than I mean for it to but, I can’t help it. “He told you my old man was abusive?”

  “No, he didn’t use those words,” she says, looking at me anxiously. “He said that your dad made life hell for you and your mom. He called him a miserable son of a bitch … ‘meaner than a snake’ I think were his exact words.”

  “And how did that conversation happen, Samantha?” My slightly raised voice sounds very accusatory. “Lee doesn’t like to talk about Danny Pierce any more than I do. Did you ask him about my old man?”

  “No, of course not! I would never do that.” She looks a little hurt that I’ve asked, and I feel like a dick, but I can’t stop.

  “Oh, so he just offered this personal information up to you, for no reason at all?” I ask sarcastically, and I can see her spirits sinking.

  “No, I … ,” Her voice trails off and she looks guilty. When she speaks again, her voice is small and timid. “I told Lee that you speak very fondly about him. That you said he was like a father-figure to you since you were never close to your own dad. That’s all I said. And he just started talking.”

  I say nothing as I just watch her, trying to get a handle on my warring emotions.

  “I wasn’t pumping him for information, Josh,” she says softly. “Please don’t be angry with him.”

  I run a hand through my hair again. “I’m not angry with him, Samantha,” I say gruffly. “Or with you.” I take a deep breath then and turn, walking over to the long picnic table that sits to the side of the patio, and take a seat on the end of the table. Sam follows me over and stands in front of me, between my legs. With me sitting on the table, we are eye to eye. “I just didn’t want you to know any of this,” I tell her honestly. “Not yet.”