“Yes,” she answered solemnly.
“Then it starts with you getting your shit straight. You can’t work for me and live like this. Tomorrow you get up and look for another place. A place you don’t tell the douchebag about. I’ll take care of the security deposit and first month’s rent. You can pay me back later.”
“That’s not going to work for me, Roman—”
That was it for me. I’d had enough at that point. She was turning down a very gracious one-way ticket out of loser land, and it made no sense to me. I had to jump in and stop that crazy train from traveling any further towards this is fucking stupidville.
“Are you insane?” I cocked my head to the side and questioned her.
“What the hell did you just say to me?” she asked with way too much attitude.
The balls on that chick.
“I said are you insane. Out of your mind. One fry short of a happy meal. You live with some sort of addict who beats on you, and you don’t want to leave?”
“He doesn’t beat on me. We argue. Things sometimes get out of hand. It happens to everyone.”
“Happens to everyone? No, sweetheart, it doesn’t. I’ve never hit a woman in my life,” I countered. “I think Jerry Springer still has his talk show in syndication if you and your druggie want to send over a video submission, because you sound nuts.”
“I have an exit plan, Mr. Need To Mind Your Own Fucking Business,” she rolled her eyes. “I don’t need anyone’s help or anyone’s judgment.”
“Everybody has a plan until they get punched in the mouth.”
“Cam—” Roman interrupted.
“No wait, I’m serious,” I said in defense of my position. “First of all, we come to her house for a fucking job interview. Who the hell does that? She should have come to us. The employers. Then when we get here she’s looking like a UFC fighter … who lost by the way and lives in a crack den. And on top of all of that, she doesn’t want any help to stop it?”
“Roman knows me, you don’t. I would ask for help if I really needed it.”
“Then you’re a fucking idiot, because you really need it now.”
If looks could kill, then I would have been shot right on the spot. She hated me, which was fine with me, because I didn’t like her either; and I definitely didn’t want her working for me.
“Jade, just do what I asked you to do this weekend,” Roman ordered. “Call me when you’re ready to finalize everything, and I’ll bring a check over. Then report to work on Monday at my father’s house. I’ll text you the exact address.”
“What about Tyson?”
“I’ll take care of him. I met him once or twice. I remember what he looks like.”
“But—”
“I’m going to help you, but just this one time. If you take that motherfucker back in after this, then you’re on your own. No job. No help. No more contact. I don’t do second chances, and I’m not friends with stupid people.”
I scoffed out loud at that comment. As far as I was concerned she was the stupidest woman I had ever met.
She stared at both Roman and I silently but intensely. Like a teapot warming to a slow boil. She was angry. Angry that she’d no doubt been exposed, called on her shit, and given a stern ultimatum. But I’m pretty sure that she was scared too, and being frightened was at least something I could understand.
I remember thinking, hoping, that perhaps Roman’s friend wasn’t a total idiot. That maybe she was trapped in her own cycle of self-sabotage and destructive behavior and needed a little push to get out.
“Do you want my help or not?” Roman demanded to know once and for all.
“I do,” she said flatly and under her breath.
I could tell it pained her to say the words, but what I found even more remarkable was that she genuinely seemed to be worried that she’d lose Rome’s friendship.
“I can’t hear you.”
“I do, dammit!”
“That’s better. Now start packing up this place tonight.”
“But—”
“He’s not coming back tonight or the next. Don’t worry about him.”
“Okay,” she exhaled in relief. “I don’t feel like having another fight tonight.”
That night Roman and I were both unusually quiet in the car until I broke the silence between us. I wasn’t going to veto him about hiring Jade, because after what I witnessed between the two of them inside of that apartment, I knew it would be a lost cause. He cared about the little misfit toy for some reason, and he was determined to save her from herself. I was also starting to consider the possibility that he brought me there on purpose. To see for myself. To understand first hand why he wanted to give her the job, and why I shouldn’t say no.
She needed us.
“Are you in love with that girl or something?” I asked. Knowing better than anyone that Roman had never slept with the same woman more than once, but it was the only rationale I could think of at the time for his bizarre level of patience with the tiny terror.
“No.”
“Is she in love with you?”
“Ha! Not hardly.”
“If I vetoed hiring her, would you accept my decision and move on?”
“Yes.”
“But you’d be pissed.”
He thought about his response for a moment.
“I’d understand why, but yeah, I’d be pissed.”
“Joseph is never going to go for hiring her. Can you imagine if she gives him that same sort of attitude that she gave us just now? I didn’t know women could also have Napoleon complexes. She’s too damn small to act that bitchy.”
“She’s a little rough around the edges, but there’s definitely something about you that brought out her claws today.”
“Excuses. Excuses.”
“Listen she knows how to tone it down when she needs to, and she will when she’s around Joseph. We just caught her on a bad day.”
“Make me understand, Rome. You knew we were probably going to find a mess when we got there. I would venture to guess that every day is a bad day in that house. So why this girl?”
“Simple. I trust her with my life, which means I trust her with yours.”
We searched every hole in the wall that we knew of for Jade’s boyfriend that night. We didn’t find him. It wasn’t until the next day that we located him, and it happened to be back home in their apartment. Sleeping across their dirty brown couch. Slobber practically dripping from the corner of his mouth. Jade wasn’t at home, and hadn’t called us either, so we assumed that he must have slithered in after she went out for the day.
He must not have been there long, because he was still high, and while he probably didn’t feel much, it made me feel a whole lot better to punch him in the jaw until I drew blood. It didn’t take much to scare the douchebag off. Roman and I beat his ass real good, threatened to do more if he ever came back around Jade again, and that was that. We never saw him again, and neither did she.
I also never saw her shed a tear over the dude either. In fact all I saw was a smart-mouthed, hyper-defensive, battle-worn girl turn into one of the most loyal, hard-working, assistants I’d ever seen. She metamorphosed practically overnight, and I’d been proven completely wrong about her.
Over time she became kind of the little sister Cutter and I never had. A girl who could hold her own, and keep our secrets close to the vest. Someone to help keep us on track, someone genuinely interested in seeing us succeed, and someone really adept at knowing what we needed or wanted even before we did. These were the many traits that ended up making Jade invaluable to us, and why the three of us anointed her as our “little sis.” She took care of us. Very good care.
The problem now is that you don’t fuck family, and think you can just go about the rest of your life like nothing happened. The shit doesn’t work that way. Not when it’s Jade. I wake up with morning wood thinking about her ass. I stare at her tits when she’s talking to me about a client. I’ve started purposely s
aying things to make her laugh, because I think it’s adorable how she squeezes her eyes tightly shut when she does. On Sundays I drop by Chickie and Pete’s to watch the game with Cutter, and pray that she walks through the door too. And the biggest problem I’m facing? What to do with the bodies when a guy comes within a fifteen-foot radius of her.
Because they always do.
Like that asshole, Dallas.
Fourteen
Jade
When the boys saved me several years ago from the vicious cycle I was living in with Tyson, I had an epiphany. It took me some time, but one day I woke up, and it was like I’d been whacked with a hedge slammer. I realized that I’d been living a non-productive, toxic life, with a boy who just wasn’t ever able to cope with becoming a man. I just didn’t understand why I stayed around so long. What did that say about me?
My mother did her best to leave me with lots of life lessons before she passed. She didn’t raise me to be a doormat, or a punching bag, or an idiot. Yet somehow, I allowed myself to become just that. All of that. What we didn’t really talk much about, and I’d guess that’s because I was so young when she became sick, was that relationships were complex. Men could build you up and tear you down all in one moment, or worse, slowly spread across little moments that occurred every single day. Until one day you looked up and you weren’t the person who you were once were. Who you were supposed to be.
After living in a wasteland with Tyson, I felt a strong need to make up for lost time. I had spent much of my youth with him. Being smothered by him. Lost in him. The problem with moving forward was that I didn’t know how to relate to other men. I knew the mechanics of sex, how to give pleasure, and how to receive it, because Tyson and I had plenty of it; but there were other things that I didn’t know. So I made some mistakes over the post Tyson years.
I flirted with the wrong people. Slept with a few really bad apples. And the little bit of confidence I had left started to wane. So I created my list of rules. Hoping that creating some structure around who and how I dated would help. And for a time the rules definitely helped me keep things comfortable and casual, until I fucked up and broke every single one in a Baltimore hotel room.
How was I supposed to work with someone who knew my body better than my gynecologist? How was I supposed to go on with business as usual when he said all those depraved things in my ear that night? I prayed that someone would come along to help me forget Camden’s touch, his body, his kiss, and how it felt when he was inside of me.
And then came a sliver of hope … Dallas.
I was driving my mother’s old Toyota Camry, a car that had seen better days, but that I didn’t want to let go of, for sentimental reasons, when I met him. The car wouldn’t start, and I was stuck in my worst nightmare—stalled on the Benjamin Franklin Bridge in the middle of rush hour.
I’d forgotten to renew my AAA membership, like an idiot, and I didn’t want to call one of the guys. They were my last resort, because I knew if I did that I’d never hear the end of it about my “shitty car.” They were dying for me to buy a new one.
It started to drizzle outside. Cars were whizzing by me. People drive a lot faster than you realize when you’re just standing still by the side of a road. It was clear that people had places to go. Everyone wanted to get home, and no one seemed to want the bother of stopping in the rain to help me. No one but Dallas.
He was driving a black Acura sedan, and as soon as we made eye contact, he slowly pulled his car to the side on the slender shoulder of the bridge.
“Car won’t start?” he asked after rolling down his window.
“I’m not sure what the problem is.”
“What year is this, a two thousand?”
“No a ninety-nine.”
“A car this old, it’s probably the starter. You may need a new one.”
He spoke with a slight twang. My guess was that he was from the southwest.
“Are you a mechanic?”
“No.” He grinned as if I paid him the highest compliment. “I just know cars.”
“Okay, so what do you suggest?”
“Well me giving you a jump may work temporarily. At least we can get you off the bridge. Then you’ll need to get it to a shop immediately. I know a good guy over by me who’ll give you a good price.”
“And where’s that?”
“South Philly.”
“You don’t sound like you’re from South Philly.” I snickered.
“I’m not.” He smiled. “I’m from the great state of Texas.”
“I figured as much.”
“What does that mean?”
“Your accent obviously.” I grinned then pointed. “And your boots. No men from South Philly wear cowboy boots.”
“Sure they do.” He smiled. “I bought these on South Street just last month.”
Relief settled in my bones. He was a good guy and not a dangerous stranger I’d have to gouge in the eyes later. Sometimes in my line of work, it was easy to forget that people were essentially good for the most part and not a whole bunch of degenerates.
“What’s your name?” he asked while lifting up the hood of my car.
“Jade.”
“Pretty name. I’m Dallas.”
I laughed for the obvious reason, “Not much creativity there.”
“Don’t be so sure. I’m from the Houston area not Dallas.”
“Kind of mean for your mom to name you that then.”
“My parents met in Dallas at some sort of rally. It’s a long, boring story.”
“Why don’t you tell me about it after we get my car off of this bridge then.”
His eyes bulged a bit. I think my forwardness surprised him. Hell, it surprised me too. I was used to men approaching me, but there was something about the way Dallas looked at me that made me want to make the first move. He was different than the overbearing creeps I usually met, and he was a nice looking guy to boot. Someone I didn’t mind getting back on the horse with and breaking the Camden mind trance I’d been under.
“I’ll tell you anything you want to know, darlin’.”
Dallas ended up being one of the nicest men I’d ever met. That’s part of the reason why we were doomed from the start. I didn’t realize how fucked up in the head I still was until I started dating him.
He opened doors for me, and I would stare at him in bewilderment. He’d call just to say good night, and I’d stare at the incoming call in annoyance. He bought me flowers for my birthday, which was nice, but I guess I’m not a flowers kind of girl. I didn’t even have a vase for them, so I stuck them in a bowl of water and left them on the kitchen counter.
After a date he’d come over to my place and would want to hold me or spoon me since we weren’t ready for sex yet, but I felt smothered. I just wanted him to leave, so I could spend the rest of the night watching game highlights.
I think our most significant difference though was that Dallas detested confrontation. If he thought we were about to disagree on something, he pulled back hard. He’d hang up the phone or if we were together, he’d find excuses to leave. Yet I was determined to make it work.
I think I wanted to prove to myself that I wasn’t broken. That I wasn’t some sort of broken spirit that could only be in unhealthy relationships or have meaningless one-night stands. I needed to prove to myself that I could be normal, and more importantly that I didn’t want Camden.
Fifteen
Jade
“I’m glad you called me tonight, darlin’.”
“Yeah?”
“I hate it when we argue. You know that.”
I called Dallas and asked him out to dinner to Solstice for three reasons. One, Ryan had worked me out like a maniac and I was starving. Two, Dallas complained that we had been seeing each other for weeks and he didn’t know much more about me than he did when we first met. So I figured taking him to the tapas lounge that the guys owned would be a step in the right direction. Third, it was evident that if I didn’t step out o
f my comfort zone and try letting him “in” that he was going to end things with me.
“Believe it or not I don’t like arguing either, Dallas, but you know I’m a work in progress.”
I’d told him a little bit about my past with Tyson.
“The two of us are very different, darlin’, but that’s what makes us interesting. Everything doesn’t need to be a battle between us. Just because you don’t agree with something I may ask from you doesn’t mean that we need to rip each other to shreds about it.”
During our argument, Dallas had called me unnecessarily combative, and that’s all I could hear him saying now. That he didn’t like who I was, and that he wanted me to be someone different. Someone I wasn’t ready to be. Someone I didn’t even know if I could be. Same negative shit I heard from my father growing up. Same crap I heard from Tyson. Just delivered differently, with a twang and a smile.
“You ready to order?” I asked uncomfortable with the direction that the conversation was going. “The appetizers are really good here, and I’ll go ask Celia to use the premium liquor for our drinks.”
“Sounds good,” he said sounding disappointed with my diversion from the conversation.
We spent the next hour ordering about four different appetizers, sampling bites off of each other’s plates, and talking about the washed up quarterback of his beloved Dallas Cowboys when the Kings sauntered in. If I could have managed to duck out of the back door, God knows, I would have.
By that point I had successfully kept Dallas away from my meddling bosses (especially Cam) for weeks, but it was obvious that someone at the restaurant had been persuaded to rat on me. Cutter might have come by once in a while to grab a drink and flirt with Celia, but Camden never ate there. It was no coincidence. They had been tipped off.
It was almost a game between us. Even before the hotel sex with Camden, if I messed around with a guy for too long, they would proceed to scare him away. They claimed it was all for shits and giggles. Harmless fun. But I think those two sadists took a very sick pleasure in spooking off my fuck buddies. If me sleeping with a guy didn’t benefit the business, then I suppose they didn’t see the point. Freakin’ hypocrites.
The King Brothers Boxed Set Page 11
