by Love Belvin
He bent frighteningly close, inclining toward my face. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re doing, but it ends here,” he informed using a carefully controlled tone. Then his nostrils flared. “You’ve crossed the fuckin’ line.”
“Jackson!” I gasped, completely lost all of my renowned sass. “I’ve poured out my heart to you.”
“You ended things!” He roared.
“What are you doing here? And every Sunday morning before dinner with your family? What is haunting you, Jackson? I told you everything…things I’ve never told a soul and you still can’t open up to me? ” I matched his volume though I had only an ounce of courage in me. I was drained by the day’s events.
Jackson straightened and he rubbed that patch of hair underneath his bottom lip and above his chin in contemplation, scrubbing his frustration as he gazed into the distance.
“So, that’s what this is about,” he muttered. “You want to know every detail of my life…be acquainted with my demons.” I was panting at this point, not knowing where he was going with this. “All right.” His angry eyes returned, jaw clenched. “Since you think yours are exclusively frightening, I’ll prove they aren’t. Since you’re so versed with my weekly itinerary, meet me back at the house.” He shifted to leave. “I’ll cut my visit short.” That was delivered gravely as he sauntered off.
Eyeing him as he crossed the front of the car, I started the ignition and pulled off without incident. I drove to the nearest gas station to fill up and pulled up directions back to Old Westbury, Long Island. The entire ride back was met with dread. My body shook helplessly from fighting the inclination to cry. I’d gotten over that weakness years ago and I refused to go back for a man who could fuck me senselessly, but not trust me with his darkness. My breathing was uneasy, but studying the roads helped me stay focused.
When I arrived at the Hunters’ residence, I noticed one of the garage doors was opened. Relieved by that piece of good fortune, I pulled next to the opening. Looking in the overhead mirror I noted the rosy swollen rims of my bloodshot eyes pained from suppressing the tears, the swell of my nose to assist with the resistance. I was flushed and discolored from the natural paleness of my skin. The sight of me was disturbing. I should have turned around and gone home. I could have easily left and dropped the whole issue. Jackson owed me nothing, but to keep my painful secrets private.
But I couldn’t. No matter how much I concealed from the world, I was drawn to Jackson Q. Hunter, and grudgingly so. As I skulked inside the garage, hoping to avoid having to ring the doorbell and alert anyone of my horrific image, I considered this latent emotional obsession to Jackson was because I’d never had a true connection to the opposite sex in my youth. It had to be something. Now, I could no longer fight the magnetic pull.
I turned the knob to the door in the garage that led to the kitchen and sighed internally, happy to be able to just slip in and wait unnoticed until Jackson arrived. This place was so huge, I could go unseen in several places. At least that’s what I thought as I padded inside.
“Oh, no, honey!” My neck snapped up. “I don’t know what’s done crawled up your little busy body ass and got you coming in here whimpering, but there’s a sign at the front door that says, ‘Drama not welcomed.” Valerie pointed toward the entrance of the kitchen that led to the front of the house. “But you clearly missed it, walking in through my garage. Honey, you’ve gotten too comfortable here and this ends today!”
My shoulders collapsed and fists balled aside my hips when I recognized the tumbler of clear liquid in her hand. “Not today, Valerie.” I shook my head as my heavy eyes swept the floor. “I don’t have time for this today.”
Valerie straightened. “Oh, you don’t, huhn?” she mocked. “I don’t know what your problem is, but I can tell you mine are greater. Don’t bring that nasty energy here. You are too relaxed in my home. You can go and bawl your eyes out somewhere else. There’s another note on the front door that says, ‘Only members of the Hunter family’s problems are allowed.’ And honey, you are no Hunter and will never be! I don’t want yours near my kids or family!”
“I’m just here to wait on Jackson,” I pleaded through a murmur.
“You can wait on the other side of that there door!” Valerie inched closer to me with her long index finger pointed toward my face and uttered, “And don’t think I don’t know who you are. Don’t believe for one second that I haven’t known all this time that you were the whore that had her legs up in the damn air, on my countertop with my son’s face between them.”
I cupped my mouth in absolute shock. As ridiculous as it sounds, I thought she’d either forgotten that night or didn’t recognize I was the woman who Jackson fed his face to.
“Hmmm-hmmm. Contrary to what my kids want to believe, I’m not a zoned-out drunk. But you’re a whore—a much younger one than he usually goes for, but a slut nonetheless. So, take your whorey ass—”
“Hey!” That frighteningly thick baritone was one I recognized. “Don’t fuckin’ talk to her like that!”
Jackson appeared out of nowhere, still seething, this time I wondered who was he more angry with.
Valerie bounced back on her other hip, theatrically. But the reaction to Jackson’s rare rebuking of her couldn’t go unnoticed. “Who the hell do you think you are? You bring your whores here now? And since when do you like young women? You flaunt her in my face…at my dinner table…have her staying the night here and creeping out with her at ungodly hours and think nobody knows? No this ends today! You take your whores and sleep with them anywhere but here!” I flinched each time she spewed the word whore. She crept closer to her son. “Jackson, Quincy may have left just about everything to you, but damn it, this is still my home. I picked out each piece of décor and the house was designed for and with my preferences in mind. You have your own place that was purchased for you, even though it was used as a den of fucking before you moved in. You should be very at home in that environment!” She pointed to me, but kept her eyes on her son. “TAKE YOUR WHORE AND FUCK HER THERE. NO MORE IN MY HOUSE!”
“What the hell is going on?” I heard the juvenile cry in that demand. The innocence.
I spun to find Candice, appearing just as traumatized as me. A pang ran through my belly. This wasn’t looking good. The unusual virtue in her cry caused a tendril of fear to wrap around my wobbly spine adding to the agony of the room.
Shit. Candice, no!
There was sheer silence for seconds long causing me to realize Valerie didn’t challenge Candice the same way she invariably did her son. There was an unequal affection there.
“Please tell me this isn’t true…I didn’t hear what I thought I did!” She stalked up to her brother. “Jackson, I’ve heard things about your wild life and trifling ways, but please…not me! Please tell me you didn’t betray me and sleep with my best friend.”
“I’m not your best friend!”
“She’s not your damn best friend!”
Jackson and I corrected at the same time, using the same volume.
Candice gasped. “Well, who the hell are you?”
The room went quiet again.
“Yeah, Jackson.” I murmured, turning to him. “Who am I? Who are you? And what are we? That’s why I’m here.”
Jackson’s eyes flipped and I caught the flash of regret in them. He was able to shake it off successfully and ordered, “Candice, up to your room until dinner.” He turned to me. “Elle, wait for me downstairs at the bar.”
“Bar?” Valerie shrieked.
“Yes, to ensure your ass don’t make another trip down there in the near future. This may be your house, but I keep it stocked and running.” Jackson regarded his mother with treacherous daggers. “You go somewhere and sober up, because I swear if you’re still spewing your venom like you have at dinner, I will make your life a living hell.”
That made me swallow hard. Jackson never took a harsh tone with his mother, never even regarded her much at all. Valerie’s mouth hun
g agape, lips quivered fearfully. She didn’t utter a word and when he turned away from her, she gazed into the empty air, clearly dumbfounded and dazed.
“Downstairs…now!” he growled, propelling my feet into action.
I didn’t recall my journey down there, but made it down to the bar. Jackson was right behind me, still seething, his face severely tight. I was used to the scowl and fought for courage in spite of my contribution to it.
“I want answers,” I squealed then swallowed hard as he sauntered behind the bar.
He scoffed. “That’s one thing we’re clear on.”
“Don’t be facetious, Jackson. What’s going on?”
“Don’t push! You can make no demands on my personal life. For six months, I allowed you yours—”
“Like hell you did!” I jumped in place. “You asked for a sexual relationship, I gave in. You demanded into my personal space by seducing my clothes off, I let you. You urged no condoms, I acquiesced. You pushed to spend nights with me when I told you vehemently—”
“AT MY FATHER’S REPASS, I PUT MOTHER IN A CAR TO GO HOME TO REST AND ONE OF HIS LOVERS TELLS ME SHE’S NINE MONTHS PREGNANT!” he spoke over me to the point of yelling. That shut me up. His eyes danced the bar table as he continued. “I couldn’t believe her tackiness, but didn’t have a chance to deal with her the way I wanted to because I had guests to entertain.”
“Cheryl?”
Jackson nodded.
“Is Miracle her daughter?”
He nodded again.
“You’ve kept this from your mother to protect her.”
Another nod.
“Miracle’s your sister.” I whispered my comprehension.
This time Jackson shook his head. My eyes grew in bemusement.
“I was with Cheryl up until a few months before my dad died.”
My forehead wrinkled. “I don’t get it.”
“Elle, my father and I were both fucking Cheryl back then. I didn’t know until the day of his funeral when she told me. She said he knew about the baby and said he’d take care of it and that he didn’t want me to know.” He shook his head, clearly still affected by the memory of it. “I wish he’d just told me…to clear the ambiguity of it all.”
Then I cupped my mouth at the direction he was going.
“Jackson…”
“The condom broke twice with her—”
“Jackson—” I gagged, suddenly feeling nauseous. Acidic bile shot up to my mouth and somehow stayed below my throat.
He leaped for me and I jumped back, extending my hand. I didn’t want his touch. I only needed the truth.
When my stomach was under control, I straightened. “Sh-she’s your daughter.”
“I don’t know. I don’t think I want to. It wouldn’t matter. She’d still be my responsibility to care for,” he whispered in evident pain.
There was Jackson, the dutiful son that took on his father’s dream of a subsidiary to his public relations firm, the one that toted an immature Ashley around to appease his father’s memory, the one who held Stephanie’s homosexuality a secret to maintain his mother’s hopes of them marrying, the one who despite her mistreatment of him, still takes care of and protects his mother in his father’s absence.
“Why is she in that facility all the way in Connecticut?” I bit my lip, anxious for what was coming.
Jackson took a deep breath then scratched his beard as his lips pulled into his mouth.
“Miracle has a rare neural birth defect called Encephalocele. It affects the brain when the neural tube doesn’t completely close during pregnancy. It’s rare, only about 375 babies in the U.S. are born with it. She requires ‘round the clock care and her mother is in no condition to coordinate it, much less pay for it. I wanted the best care I could afford and was recommended the specialty hospital in Connecticut.”
“How did her mother feel about that?”
“She didn’t care…doesn’t care. She hardly visits her. Apparently, she went up the week of my birthday, but that was her first time there in almost six months. No one knows about her, not even Cheryl’s family, which I don’t understand how or why.”
“And you’re the only person who visits her regularly.”
He nodded.
“She may not be here long. I just want her to be as comfortable as possible.”
My eyes faltered. The effects of not sleeping much last night, getting up so early, discovering Jackson’s secrets, and having an empty stomach had begun to catch up to me. I was completely exhausted and needed to sleep on this.
“Please tell me this doesn’t…” He started, but pulled back. “What changes between us?”
My eyes rake up to meet his. “Nothing. It changes nothing between us, Jackson. There is no future for us. Never has been,” my skittish voice exposed my pain in the realization of it. Leaving right now could be perceived as abandonment. It could further injure his sensitive state of mind, yet in spite of that knowledge, I murmured, “I need to go.”
I turned and skulked toward the stairs, my head spinning in confusion and pain, anger stirring in my belly. Once at the main level, I bumped into Valerie, on her way to the kitchen.
She rolled her eyes at me upon recognition. “I don’t know what your problem is, but I hope it’s on its way with you out the door,” she hissed in passing.
I steeled in place, no longer able to ignore her brazen remarks. I, too, had had enough. I was not one of her children’s young friends to belittle. This would end today.
“You know what my problem is, Valerie? I’m in love with your son who is fucked up with issues you and his father have selfishly created. Yup!” I emphasized when she recoiled. “I’m in love with a man nine years younger than me who can write a fucking thesis on responsibility, loyalty, discretion, devotedness, long-suffering and unconditional love!”
Valerie’s head reared with incredulity.
“Oh, yeah! He knows lots about the phenomenon of selfless and unconditional love thanks to your miserable, selfish, drunken ass!”
I noticed when Valerie’s widened eyes shifted behind me. I tossed a glance over my shoulder and saw Jackson, frozen in place with a dazed expression.
I couldn’t care less that he’d heard, was too tired to process my truths just spilled out on Valerie’s marbled floors. I stormed off, not stopping until I was into my rental and slammed onto the accelerator, escaping to the city.
There were mirrors everywhere. Michael’s one-bedroom apartment was enclosed by reflecting walls. His sofas were black leather and accessories, silver with the exception of the zebra print area rug. The ambiance was very…1970s’ish. His floors were some expensive marble stone material. All I could do was shake my head at the enigma of Michael Rosco.
As I gazed, hypnotically, up at the tiered aluminum chandelier, I heard him ask behind me. “Are you sure you don’t want me to hold off on renting the place for a couple of months until you settle in over there? I’m telling you by the hits I’m getting now, that place isn’t going to have a chance to air out your scent before it’s rented.” He snorted.
My neck swung behind me to find him studying his laptop fixedly.
“Are you seriously negotiating the cost of my efficiency when you’re supposed to be hosting me on my second to last night in the city?”
His eyes rolled up to me and the side of his mouth twitched. I shook my head as I turned back in my seat.
“Awwww… Don’t do that, sexy. It’s just with those high priced wood floors you had installed, I can get at least five hundred more than I get from you. You really invested in those 600 square inches, darling.”
I rolled my eyes at that. Wasted money was more like it. I loved that apartment. It, in so many ways, reflected me personally. I couldn’t believe it would no longer be mine in forty-eight hours.
Michael was standing over me, offering me another martini. I shook my head, exhausted at the mere prospect of another drink.
“No thanks,” I murmured. “I need water
instead. I have a long day tomorrow.”
It was late and my reason for stopping by Michael’s apartment had been served. I was trying to wear myself out in hopes of going across the hall and falling in my bed and into a deep sleep. The drinks and gelato he’d served generously were a bonus.
“Thanks for having me by, though.”
“Who would’ve thought the first time I had you over would be one of your last nights in the building. I was hoping to get you drunk and finally have my way with you.” I gave him hard eyes, too tired to even respond to his salacious wit. “You look like you could use some ass.”
I could use strong branded arms even more…
“Yeah,” I exhaled. “But the one I’ve grown particularly partial to isn’t exactly banging down my door, swinging his shlong in offering.”
He couldn’t. Jackson had been in Houston all week with Goldberg and Wizer, closing a purchasing deal with a smaller firm down there and wasn’t scheduled to be back in New York until Saturday night. Jackson had actually been the lead on the deal that had been underway for months now.
“You can go to him, you know. You have legs.”
“And he has secrets. Not to mention he has no business getting involved with a woman like me. I’m doing him a favor.”
“By making the both of you miserable? I’ve no doubt he isn’t, from the way he couldn’t stay away from your door most nights over the past few months. That and the sounds of your pleasure echoing against my walls. Shiiiiit!” he exhaled then took a long gulp of his drink.
“I doubt if Jackson’s miserable.”
I hadn’t heard from him since leaving his place in Long Island four days ago. I’d let my true feelings slip, just as I did in the Catskills and he hasn’t responded. Clearly, he’s wising up.
“I doubt if he isn’t. I still remember him calling me those few days you were sick and asking about your developments and trying to coordinate the delivery of your food and meds.”
