by J. D. Mason
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About the Author
Copyright Page
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CHAPTER ONE
It’s not every day that you show up to the house you just bought at auction, which you planned on gutting and flipping, that you find a brand new black Jaguar sitting parked in the driveway of that house. So, yeah. Jackson Burris was curious. He walked up to the door, turned the knob, and pushed it open. Inside, at that old card table he’d set up a month ago, was a pair of women’s high heeled shoes, and the keys to that Jag out front.
“Hello?” he called through the house.
Jackson heard movement in one of the rooms down the hallway leading to the bedrooms, and moments later a woman came hurrying toward him.
“Hi.” She ran over to him, barefoot, extending her hand to shake. “Hi,” she said again. “I’m uh…”
Long waves of blond hair fell past her shoulders. The dress she had on looked too fancy to be something she wore every day. She fidgeted with her dress and hair, and though she smiled, he could tell that it was forced. The woman avoided looking him in the eyes.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. Jackson’s first inclination was that she was some kind of crack- or meth head who’d decided to crash here.
Then he thought better of it. Most dope fiends didn’t drive cars like that.
“I live here,” she chuckled nervously, and glanced quickly at him.
It was only a moment, but long enough for him to see the bruising around one of her eyes.
“At least I used to,” she offered anxiously.
It wasn’t easy to do behind all that hair, but Jackson stared at the woman’s face. “Farrah? Farrah Hart?”
The fact that he knew her name got her attention and she stared back at him. It didn’t take him long to realize that she had no idea who he was, but then, why would she? Jackson was a kid the last time she’d seen him.
“Jackson … Burris.”
Farrah cupped her mouth with her hands in awe. “Oh my goodness!” she gasped. “Jackson?”
He laughed and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, how you been?”
“I can’t believe it’s you,” she shrieked. “Look at you. You’re huge!”
It was her all right. Farrah Hart. Prom queen. Cheerleader. And the crush of his life. As a twelve-year-old boy, Farrah Hart was the object of many a wet dream for Jackson. She’d hardly ever given him the time of day. Back then he thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world. Gorgeous amber-colored eyes, sandy brown hair with waves in it that gleamed when she brushed it. Farrah’s mother was half black and half Mexican. Her father was black. Farrah was still beautiful, but there were too many things wrong with this picture. And she was right. She had lived here, but that was twenty years ago.
“When’d you get back in town?” he asked.
Something in her expression changed. “This morning,” she told him.
“And you came straight to the house?”
“Of course.” She shrugged. “It’s my house.” Again, she forced a smile that Jackson couldn’t put any faith in.
Surely she was just speaking metaphorically. This house had been abandoned for the last five years, not long after Mrs. Hart, her mother, went into that hospice, and later passed away.
“How’s your brother?” he asked, changing the subject.
“Fine,” she said unconvincingly. “And your parents? How are they?”
He laughed. “Retired and living in Florida.”
“Nice. That’s so nice.”
The conversation was awkward, and the two of them were awkward together. This was the most Farrah Hart had ever said to Jackson and they truly had nothing to talk about, so he decided to just be blunt.
“You know I bought this house,” he said, carefully.
She pretended not to be stunned by the news. “I’d heard that.”
He didn’t believe her. Whatever was going on with this woman, whatever had caused her to come back to Blink, Texas, wasn’t good. He didn’t need to see the bruise on her face to tell him that. All he had to do was to look in those beautiful, expressive eyes of hers to see that Farrah was running scared from something or someone. Jackson didn’t want to pry, though.
“I just wanted to see the place,” she continued.
“How long you in town for?”
“Um…” Again, she shrugged and averted her gaze from him. “Not long. A few days.”
“Well, maybe we can get together. Let me take you out to eat.”
“I’d love to, Jackson, but … I’m going to be in and out so quickly.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
“I’d love to, but…”
“Nah, I get it. You’re just passing through.”
She nodded. “Basically.” Farrah reached for her shoes and car keys. “But it was good seeing you again,” she said, heading toward the door.
He followed her. “It was good seeing you too.”
Farrah walked back to her car. “Take it easy.”
He waved as she climbed in behind the wheel and backed out of the driveway.
* * *
It took everything she had not to fall apart in front of Jackson, but as soon as Farrah drove away from that house, the tears came. Where could she go now? That house was the only place she knew, the only place she could go. She had less than sixty dollars in her purse, and part of that was going to have to go to buying gas. She had no credit cards, no bank card. Farrah didn’t have anything except for the few dollars in her purse, the clothes on her back, Mateo’s car, and the fear that he would find her.
She just drove. Twenty years ago, Farrah left Blink, Texas, and hadn’t looked back. She stayed long enough to get her high school diploma and the car her father promised her for graduation, but one day she filled it up with gas and she just left with no idea of where she was going, as long as it was away from this place, this small town with its small people and their small minds. Back then she’d turned her nose up at it, but fate was funny. And the first place she ran back to when she had no place else to go was here.
“Your problem is that you are too presumptuous, Farrah.”
“I didn’t mean to be, Mateo.” Farrah swallowed.
“Never question me!” he said, stalking toward her. “Especially not in front of the very people who work for me!”
Farrah took a step backward for each step he took toward her. She had fucked up! God, she knew that now, but she could still fix this! Mateo loved her too.
“I would never do anything to hurt you,” she said, pleading with him with her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Farrah reached out to him. Mateo slapped her hand away and then he slapped her so hard across the face that Farrah stumbled and started to fall to the floor but he caught her before she could.
“You think I am an idiot,” he said in his thick Mexican accent, digging his fingers into her arms and holding her up until she was close enough for him to kiss. “You think that I don’t know how clever you can be?”
She shook her head violently back and forth. The tea
rs came without warning. “No, no … baby,” she protested. “I love you, Mateo,” she whimpered, hoping that he could hear the sincerity in her voice and see it in her expression. “I didn’t mean to do anything wrong. I swear I didn’t.”
Mateo’s black eyes filled with hatred. She shuddered.
He let her go and turned his back to her. Maybe he’d just let her leave. He’d be angry with her, but not for long. Mateo could never be mad at her for very long. He spun around to her so fast that she didn’t have time to brace herself when his fist landed flush on the side of her face. The floor hurried up to meet her. Mateo stood over her.
“My business is not your business, belleza,” he said, threateningly.
The room was spinning. The ringing in her ears was deafening, and suddenly, pain shot through her midsection again and again when she realized that he was kicking her.
“You fuckin’ bitch!” he growled at the top of his lungs. Mateo knelt down next to her, grabbed a handful of her hair, and jerked her head back.
He would kill her this time! She was sure of it. “I love you, Mateo,” she whispered again, praying that he would believe her.
She was his lover and his love. She was his … He hit her again, but this time, she didn’t fall … she couldn’t! He was going to kill her! Mateo grabbed her by the hair again, turned her to him, and cried out in agony as she drove half the length of the Montblanc pen into his eye!
She stumbled away from him as he dropped to his knees on the floor.
Run! Run, Farrah! Run!
In all the years she’d known Mateo, Farrah had never asked him how he made his money. Early in their relationship he’d told her never to ask. Farrah fell in love with the lavishness of him and everything he offered her: the expensive clothes, jewelry, houses, and cars. Farrah was his belleza, his beauty, that he wore on his arm like an expensive timepiece, and for years, that was enough.
Farrah was forty-one years old. The glitz and glamour of her life with him had faded a long time ago, and she became an afterthought to Mateo, replaced by younger, more beautiful women, slighted by him in front of everyone until she had become some sort of joke to him, to everyone around them, and most importantly to herself. He kept her like a relic, a collectible, but in the back of her mind, Farrah knew that it was what she deserved. It was karma for abandoning her family, friends, and anyone who’d ever actually cared for her.
She had no idea how long she’d been driving before she turned down an isolated dirt road and finally stopped. It was dark already and she couldn’t risk going back to that house and running into Jackson again. Farrah turned off the engine, lowered the back of the driver’s seat, and closed her eyes.
CHAPTER TWO
“If you ask me, you’re just a little too comfortable living down here in this pea-sized town,” Alvin Brooks said dismally, standing on the sideline next to Jackson watching the junior college football team that Jackson coached run scrimmages.
“Didn’t nobody ask you, man,” Jackson shot back. “Way to move, Anderson!” he shouted across the field, clapping.
Alvin had signed on to be Jackson’s agent right before he was drafted into the NFL. He stopped being his agent after Jackson was let go from the NFL over substance abuse issues, everything from weed to alcohol to … hell. Jackson couldn’t even remember some of the shit he was taking back then. But it had cost him. He’d been one of the league’s most promising and premier running backs, and after spending three years in the league, they canceled his contract and sent his ass home packing.
He and Alvin still kept in touch, though. The man had gone on to represent some of the biggest players in the league now, but every now and then, he’d stop through Blink, just to check on the knucklehead he couldn’t talk any sense into. That was ten years ago, and Jackson appreciated his friendship.
“Texas folks love their football,” Alvin casually mentioned.
“Yes we do.”
“You’ve really put this team on the map, Jackson. It hasn’t gone unnoticed.”
“Pick it up, Drew! You’re looking sluggish, boy!”
“They’ve won their division the last five years,” Alvin continued. “You’ve got major universities looking to pick up half your team.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Jackson responded. “That’s it! That’s how you do that!” One of the players came trotting off the field over to Jackson, who gave him a fist bump. “See what happens when you pay attention?”
“Yes sir,” the boy said, grinning.
“Have you been giving any thought to that assistant coaching position I told you about in Austin?”
Alvin had told him about the position a month ago, an opportunity to move up to the big leagues and coach at the University of Texas. “Yeah. I gave it some thought.”
“And?” he asked as he waited for Jackson to add something to that statement. But when he didn’t, Alvin looked at Jackson like he was looking at a crazy person. “It’s an open door to a head coaching job, Jackson.”
“I’m a head coach here, man.”
Alvin shook his head. “Here. Here is all well and good, man, but you are bigger than this, Jackson. Always have been.”
Alvin was one of the biggest agents in the business and one of Jackson’s biggest cheerleaders even when he was fucking up.
“You’ve done good things with this team, Jackson, but you could do even bigger things with an even bigger team. I believe that. Don’t you?”
Jackson scratched his brow. “I don’t know.”
“What don’t you know?”
“I don’t know if I want to put myself out there like that again, man.”
“Like what? Like you deserve to be more than just a coach at a junior college?”
Jackson was offended and it must’ve shown when he looked at Alvin because the man quickly changed his tune.
“I’m just saying, you’ve got skill, bro. And I’m not the only one who’s noticed. You know how people are down here. Football is everything and eyes are all over people who stand out, and eyes are on you right now.”
Jackson had taken the Lamar County Junior College Panthers from zeros to heroes in a year. All of a sudden, they were the team to beat in their division, but it was more than just the number of wins he had in a column that made him work so hard with these boys. They were young and they were at a crucial time in their lives when the world would either make them or break them. Jackson had been one of them when he was drafted and he hadn’t been ready. His job here was to make these boys ready.
“Positions like that don’t just fall into your lap, Al,” Jackson said. “The review and interview process is grueling, man. They dig up all kinds of shit, and I don’t want them digging up mine.”
Alvin chuckled. “Like they don’t already know it? Man, it was all over the news, every single time you got busted.”
Jackson couldn’t help laughing too, but the memories were still bitter of him spiraling out of control over having too much fame too soon. He went from being a small-town country hero to a national one, and all of a sudden his life was flooded with money, women, and anything he wanted. Jackson’s problem was he didn’t know how to say no.
“Look,” Alvin continued. “I’m just saying, think about it. I mean, really think about it, man, because this is a golden opportunity that might not come around again anytime soon.”
Jackson looked at him and all of a sudden it was as if a lightbulb came on. “You called in some favors, didn’t you? Did you ask them to take a look at me?”
Alvin shrugged. “I asked them to take a look. Yeah. But they liked what they saw. Your record is impressive. They love how you’ve taught these kids to play this game. They’ve even come up here to watch a few games.”
“Seriously?”
“Hell yeah, I’m serious. You know football, Jackson. It’s in your blood, your brain … your toes, for all I know.” He laughed. “But you know that shit and it shows. They’ve got an opening coming up and would li
ke for you to put your name in the hat. That’s all. That’s all I’ve done. I can’t get you the job, but I did promise them that I would bring you the opportunity. The rest is on you.”
* * *
The conversation with Alvin still resonated with Jackson after practice as he drove home. He loved coaching even more than he loved playing. But Jackson wasn’t ready to have the mistakes from his past resurrected again in front of a selection board and maybe even in the media again, even if it was for a chance to coach one of the most prestigious college football teams in the country.
He’d been an embarrassment to himself and his family, and Jackson had spent the last ten years putting all that mess behind him. But Alvin was right. An assistant coaching job could lead to a head coaching job at a university, and maybe even the NFL someday. If it meant that there was even a possibility that he could get back into the league, then maybe he shouldn’t be so quick to dismiss Alvin’s offer.
It was hard to miss a car like that in Blink. Jackson passed Farrah as she drove past him, waved, and smiled. Twenty years later and he still had that crush. Jackson had no idea what was going on with her, but it wasn’t his business. Farrah had said that she’d be leaving soon. That was too bad.
CHAPTER THREE
Thirty dollars. That’s how much money Farrah had in her purse. She had been slowly walking up and down the aisles of the store for over an hour. How had she let herself get like this? Farrah had on a four-hundred-dollar dress, wore six-hundred-dollar shoes, and was driving a car that cost more than she could even fathom right now, and yet, all the money she had in the world wasn’t enough to even afford her a motel room for one night. She’d put gas in the car, but where was she going to go? What was she going to do? She’d been in Blink for three days now and was no closer to figuring all that out than she was the night she left Mateo.
She carried a small basket in her hands and filled it with things that were cheap, and didn’t need to be refrigerated or cooked: crackers, bottled water, cookies. She stopped in front of the tuna and put one of those pouches in her basket. She could eat that tonight with the crackers. Farrah needed other things too, like soap, toothpaste, a toothbrush. They cost so much.
