When Rock hurried through the door, his sleeveless shirt exposed his colorful sleeve of tattoos. I’d seen them before but never paid close attention to them. An artistic D in blue ink with a small drop of blood dripping from it in red ink adorned his forearm. Funny how some people disapproved so much of tattoos. Before Jackson, I had looked down on them as well. But now I saw them as an artistic choice. Rock’s D was a scar of sorts. A memory of Dee. He’d made his inside scar visible so he could wear it proudly.
“Rock.”
His heavy steps came to a stop.
“What are your thoughts about me possibly…”
“He’s in Denver, Mela. Probably going back to work. We aren’t far from where he works, but with security, I don’t know. I’d never get you in without going straight in the front door.” His words spewed out as he rubbed his hand over his bald head.
The thought of Jackson being close thrilled me. “I want to go,” I said hesitantly knowing it would make Rock uncomfortable.
I needed to hear Jackson’s voice. His defense. He didn’t have to come back that second weekend, but he had. That must have meant something.
Rock’s head bobbed up and down but his jaw contradicted his words as it tightened. “Mela. What makes you think you can trust this guy? He lied to you. You know he lied yet you want to go see him.”
“I know, Rock. I do.” I closed my eyes, trying to gather my words. “But…”
“But nothing. Out of all the places for this guy to hike, he found your place. You don’t think that’s the least bit odd?”
I exhaled an exhausted breath. “I do think it’s odd. I understand how crazy it sounds. All I can say is trust me.”
Rock rubbed his hand over his bald head and then delicately over the scar that stretched down his cheek. “It’s not about trusting you.”
Without thinking, I took hold of his hand. “Rock, do you remember the conversation we had in my kitchen? The one about Ari and how it didn’t bother you that she still did what she did?”
He nodded.
“You deserved so much more but you stayed because you trusted her. You loved her.”
A slow smirk touched his mouth as one eyebrow cocked upward.
I continued, “You just knew, Rock. Didn’t you?”
When he got to his feet, his knees popped. “Tell me when you’re ready to leave.”
I sighed a breath of relief. “I’m ready…”
Rock didn’t want Two to be seen because he’d been to court with Ari four years ago—the less connection made with that, the better, he’d said. So it was Mikie and Rock in the front seat and Duckie sat with me in the back. I watched from the backseat as we passed the stadium…the white bronco on top of the arena. God, Beck would love seeing that. A semi-smile drifted over my face.
Rock maneuvered the highways like he’d driven them a thousand times. Though I didn’t know how close we were, when he veered onto an exit ramp, my heart sped. My eyes flitted around the car looking for some sort of skyscraper…something that I’d envisioned as Jackson’s building, but nothing…until I spotted a courthouse at the end of the street.
“This is it?” I asked as Rock parked in a stall.
“Yes. We aren’t sure he’s here, but this is where his office is. We know he was here earlier. They haven’t seen him come out. Duckie can go in with you.”
“No, Rock. I’ll go in alone.”
He turned around in the seat. “Do you still not have a cell phone?”
I shook my head.
“Give me yours,” he said to Mikie.
Rock handed me Mikie’s phone. God, I wasn’t sure I’d even know how to work it. It had been so long. At one time I never would have believed I’d have been able to go without a cell phone.
“It’s like riding a bike.” Rock smiled.
I nodded, taking the phone.
“You have fifteen minutes. If we don’t have a text or phone call, we’re coming in. I’m warning you now.”
“Ok.” I looked down at the phone. “Mikie, how is Rock listed in your phone so I can text?”
“Rock.” His face looked confused.
I laughed out loud. “Yeah. Dumb question. Sorry.”
Rock stepped out of the car and opened my door. If I wasn’t in love with Jackson and Rock wasn’t in love with my sister, I’d tell him how crazy I was about him.
I leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. Again.”
Not wasting time, I scurried up the courthouse stairs feeling the burn in my legs for not working out regularly for a couple of weeks. The enormous pillars stood high and seemed so Washington DCish. I half expected Lincoln to be sitting near the entrance.
“Mela!”
Instinctively, I turned toward the voice that shouted my name. When I saw the camera from a ways away… panic shot through me, so I finished the stairs two at a time. The moment I rushed through the doors, I texted Rock to let him know that they’d seen me come in. I slid the phone in my back pocket.
The metal detectors were next and I went through without an issue. After a quick glance at the information board, Jackson’s office was located on the fourth floor. I peeked at the front door to see if the guy with the camera was coming, but no one had followed me in.
When the elevator dinged, I immediately got on as if that brought some sort of security. I released a deep breath, pushed the number four button and was glad I was the only one in the elevator. On the third floor, the doors opened and a woman stepped on, also pushing the fourth floor button, which was already lit. She held a stack of legal folders and didn’t speak. I wrung my hands hoping the tingling in my fingers would go away.
Once the doors opened on the fourth floor, the woman stepped out, her heels clicked in the quiet hallway. I looked both ways, hoping to see some sort of signage to tell me what way to go.
US District Court
I saw it. That was what I was looking for.
“Mela?”
I spun quickly…excitedly. A man that I didn’t recognize stood in front of me in an expensive suit. My face felt like it crumbled. All I could manage to do was shake my head. Rock had made it clear not to engage with them.
My feet moved forward as the strawberry yogurt I’d eaten for breakfast lurched in my stomach.
“Mela, wait.”
The elevator door opened and two men in shirts and jeans stepped off.
“Ms. McKinley. Are you here to talk to Jackson Winslow?”
“Are you aware there is a case being filed to gain custody of your son, Beck?”
“Were you involved with Mr. Winslow during the trial of Senator McKinley?”
I gasped. “No!” I uttered, shocked by the question. “I…”
My head spun as I fought to catch a breath. Suddenly, the man in the suit grabbed my hand and yanked me in the opposite direction. The two other men followed, questions spewing from their mouths like vomit.
“Don’t talk to them, Mela.”
He shoved me into the ladies room where there was a sitting area. The men stopped shy of the door and didn’t follow.
“Who are you?” I asked gripping Mikie’s phone tightly in my hand.
“I’m Jack’s best friend,” he said, pulling the curtains closed along the one window.
A toilet flushed in the room next to the one we were in.
“My name is Dalton. I’m sure he mentioned me.”
I shook my head.
“Well, I’m sure he meant to. I’m a pretty big deal.”
He grinned. I didn’t.
“How do you know who I am?”
He hesitated, adjusting his tie. “He told me. I know he wasn’t supposed to… but he needed to talk to a friend and he trusts me. You can to.”
“Where is he?”
“He was here. But he left. He’s trying to find you. Who are the men on the motorcycles?”
What an odd question. “None of your fucking business,” I spat out, suddenly paranoid.
“Mela. I’ll protect you.
Jack would kill me if I didn’t.” Both his hands were up in a gesture of surrender.
“I have my own protection. Where did he go?”
A woman came out of the actual restroom, wiping her hands with a paper towel. She looked at me.
“Hey, Dalton.”
“Hey, Jamie.”
The door slowly closed behind her.
“He needed to speak with his mother.”
“His father will be there too?” The fear was evident in my voice since it shot up an octave.
He gave a hard nod. “Yes. But Jack will be more guarded now. He’ll be ok.”
My chin quivered at the thought of him handling that confrontation alone.
“If you talk to him, please tell him I’d like to talk to him. Things aren’t, as they seem. I didn’t flee from him.”
“Mela. I’ve known Jack my whole life. Everything you probably have seen on the Internet…give him a chance to explain. His world was a little crazy for a while. He’s one of the best men I know. After his dad did all the shit he’s done, Jackson didn’t want to be good anymore and he kinda lost sight of what mattered. That’s changed now. You changed that.”
Tears filled my eyes. “Thank you, Dalton.”
“How about I just give you his number?”
“OK. I’d appreciate that.” After a long minute, I said, “Would you mind walking me out? Those people…scare me.”
“Better yet, I’ll get you out a back door. Where is your car?”
At the same time he asked, the phone buzzed in my hand. Rock’s name appeared on the screen.
“Hey,” I answered.
“Where are you, Mela? This place is crawling.”
“I’m in the fourth floor ladies’ room. I have someone that’s going to get me out a back door.”
As if on cue both Mikie and Rock barreled through the door. Wow. They had to have been off the elevator and on the floor already.
“And who is this someone?” Rock growled; his eyes ripped Dalton apart.
“His name is Dalton. He’s a friend of Jackson’s.” I stepped between them.
“Says who? And what door, Dalton? And it better not be a set up.”
“No set up. Just a back door that Jackson and I have used for a couple of years. Is your car back there?”
Once they called Duckie and told him where to go, Dalton led us through an office, down a back stairwell and to an exit. When we opened the door to outside, Duckie sat only a few feet away with the car running.
“Mela. He would be profoundly angry at me if I didn’t keep you with me right now and take you to him.”
Rock chuckled but not in a funny way. “Yeah. That’s never gonna happen. Come on,” he said to me.
Dalton once again yielded with his hands in the air. “I understand,” he said specifically to Rock. “And I am conceding to you. But a fair warning…”
Rock swung his body around, glaring at the man.
“Jack won’t concede. He won’t back down. He knows what he wants.”
A threat seemed to linger in Dalton’s words. Though my heart soared, Rock could have killed Dalton with his eyes. Rock cleared his throat.
“That will be her choice. Not mine and certainly not yours.”
I mouthed thank you to Dalton. I wasn’t sure what I’d have done had he not saved me in the hall. And in return he winked—an unspoken you’re welcome, paying heed to Rock’s personality by not speaking again.
I stared at the phone number Dalton had given me. Jackson’s number. By texting him or better yet, calling him, I could see him possibly as early as today. Hours. Minutes. Possibly seconds. But…he was with his mother. I knew that he had some issues to settle with her. My heart hurt for him… He needed this closure, so I waited.
My feelings for Jackson sparked to life the first time our eyes met. I was too scared for Beck’s and my safety to admit it then. But…that’s all I could think of now. The feelings were overwhelming. Stronger than I’d ever experienced. Honestly, I wasn’t sure I was ready for the force or burden this need could carry. It was an emotional disruption in my life that I wasn’t prepared for—couldn’t prepare for—but I would now carry him in my heart forever. The wheel of fate had been set in motion and there would be no stopping it. I remembered the intensity of the pain when Ian was taken from me. Unforgettable. Mind-numbing pain. The thought of never seeing Jackson again, of never loving him the way that I wanted to—that pain was unimaginable. Ian helped me find life and give life to Beck. Jackson made me want to live.
Chapter 23
JACKSON
When Dalton’s name appeared on my phone screen, I ignored the call and parked at my parent’s home. This wasn’t my family home—the house I’d grown up in. It was the house that they bought with the money my father had stolen. Stolen from honest, innocent people who trusted the wrong guy. I hated it here. Chances were the government would take the fucking monstrosity of a house. I had been denied all access to the papers, so I wasn’t sure how much of the money spent on this house was from the illegal funds.
After I scaled the stone staircase out front, I rested for a second, taking a deep breath. I felt hung over. My brain was foggy. I’d done what I needed at the courthouse this morning and that was a relief. But, until I found Mela, I would be an emotional wreck. Waves of nausea continued to roll over me—maybe it was a stomach bug. One thing was for certain, someone was hell bent on inflating a balloon inside my skull because my head was killing me.
I forced myself to plod forward. Step after step. This should be the happiest time of my life, right? I was only thirty-one and I’d found the girl of my dreams—something my parents thought I’d never do. Yet, Mela was MIA with the fucking Hell’s Angels, and here I was walking into the house where my father stabbed me. The irony of our lives was ridiculous.
A planet of regret rested on my shoulders for destroying my mom’s life too. Her husband was going down at the hands of her one and only son.
“Jackson. Where have you been?” My mother stormed out of the house.
I wondered if she even paid attention to the paparazzi photos or if she’d stopped looking at them like I had.
“Hi, Mom.”
When her arms wrapped around me, they seemed skinny, frail. I smelled the gin before I smelled her expensive perfume.
“Tell me where you’ve been. We sent people looking for you. They said they found you but…” she stumbled backward in her heels, but I quickly stabilized her.
We stepped inside to level ground.
“They were right, Mom. I just needed to get lost for a while. Is Dad home?”
I needed to know if I should watch my back. There came the nausea again. A merciless light from the kitchen blazed down on me, scrutinizing me like she was.
“Your father’s passport has been taken and he has a leather thing around his ankle that monitors his every move. But then you know that.” She waved her hand like I was insignificant—she was dismissing me.
“Do you want a drink?” she asked.
“No. Thank you.”
“You know, they say our house may be taken.”
I stayed silent as she poured another drink using the four-finger liquor measuring tool. My jaw tightened. Her drinking was becoming increasingly worse. Gin for Jen. Another irony.
“Were you with a girl?”
Seeing Mela’s face behind my eyelids made me breathe a little easier. I was going to spit it out. I was going to tell her. It would make her happy.
“Or a guy? Hell, at this point, we aren’t sure if you are straight or gay? I mean, I’ve seen all the pictures of you with the beautiful women. But will we ever have a grandbaby?”
Even with the accusations flying, I smiled. A vision of Mela with a swollen belly fluttered through my mind… the type of mother she already was and the type of father I wanted to be.
“Mom…”
“You know your father will probably never see grandbabies.”
I nodded. This was pointless.
Hearing my grandmother in my head tell me over and over—you can only change yourself, don’t worry about changing others. I was in the process of changing me, and it was the best thing in the world.
I walked over toward her and cupped her cheeks, to let her know I was ok. But honestly, it was a little meaningless. Alcohol navigated her life. She lived in gin fog. And in that fog, she got lost in her world of negativity and disillusionment.
“Mom. I love you. Thank you for being my mom. I just wanted to say that. But I have to go. I really hope someone is waiting for me.”
“Waiting where? Who?” she asked.
Already out the door, I pretended not to hear her.
***
Mela’s car still sat at the town square where we’d parked it. Yet, as I drove up the mountain to park in the garage, hope lingered that she and Beck might be at the cabin. I tried to stay cautiously optimistic even though I knew it was dumb.
The wind was chilly as I hiked down to the cabin. The pillow of smoke usually billowing out the chimney was almost nonexistent. My heart sunk.
My phone buzzed. It was Dalton again. I opened his text.
Fucking call me back douche bag. I talked to her
Mela? He’d talked to her? My left hand curled into a fist. My finger jabbed the call button near his name as I cursed under my breath.
“Dude. Where the hell are you?” he answered.
“Back at the cabin. Where’d you see her?”
“The cabin? I thought you said there was no service out there?”
“Dalton. Where the fuck did you see her?” I barked
“She came to the courthouse, man. Looking for you.”
My neck fell back in disappointment, frustration… relief. If she was looking for me, that was a good thing, right? The sunshine warmed my face, and I felt myself coming back to life.
“How do you know it was her?”
“We talked. The rats were chasing her. I saved her by shoving her into the restroom by your office.”
My mouth fell open. “What? What were they saying to her?”
“You don’t wanna know. The good news is that she was looking for you, right?” I nodded to no one.
“What’d you tell her?”
Scars and Tats Page 19
