Reclaim: (A Redemption Novel)

by Marley Valentine

  Walking around him, I get into the cart and lean over to press the button that will take me to the ground level. “That sounds great. I’ll see you later.” The doors begin to slide closed and Joe sticks his foot in between, having them automatically retreat. “What are you doing?”

  I just wanted to-” He shakes his head in annoyance. “I figured since we’re both still here we could go for a drink.”

  “Didn’t you just come back from drinks?”

  “Yes, but-” He lowers his face and scratches his forehead.

  Please don’t let this be going where I think it’s going.

  “What I meant is we should go out some time.”

  “Like in a group, with other people from work?” I suggest.

  “I guess.” His face reddens, embarrassment spreading like wildfire. “I was thinking more me and you.”

  “We can barely tolerate each other.” I’ve never seen this side of Joe, and I want to punch myself in the face for having empathy towards him right now.

  “I’m guessing the last seven weeks didn’t help?”

  I shake my head, unable to say anything else.

  “Let’s blame this on the alcohol and forget it ever happened, yeah?”

  “Sure. I can definitely do that.”

  For the last time I press the ground floor button, and beg for the doors to close faster. After Joe disappears from my view, I lean on the back wall and pull out my phone to text Taylah.

  What the fuck just happened?

  9

  Jagger

  The pounding of my feet against the footpath begins to slow down as Hendrix’s house comes into view. Unable to break routine, I find myself looking forward to the silence every morning.

  It’s only been two weeks since I’ve come home, but there are days when I wake up in a cold sweat, my chest tight, and my mind consumed by the doubts of not living up to everyone’s expectations.

  Things move at lightning speed around me--everyone has somewhere to be, and they’re usually rushing around to be there. I try to keep up, but it’s also difficult when your life is stagnant and there’s no need for you to race around like everyone else. It’s been two weeks, and my days feel and look exactly the same as they were on the inside. Eat, sleep, exercise. And not necessarily in that order.

  The loneliness is unnerving. My family is around me, but the disconnect is noticeable. I see them trying. Too hard in fact, but I grin and bear it, because I don’t want to seem ungrateful. Dakota and Hendrix have effortlessly accepted me into their lives, my time spent with them the highlight of every day.

  But there’s still the elephant in the room--unanswered questions and unspoken confessions. And I’m not ready to stain the pure elation I feel at being able to see their faces whenever I want.

  Unlocking the front door, it’s no surprise to see Hendrix sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar, scooping cereal into his mouth like it’s his last meal.

  “Morning,” I call out. He looks up and tips his chin in my direction.

  Drix isn’t a morning person, so I’m used to the silence that ensues when I come back from my run. Once his stomach is satisfied, it doesn’t take too long for him to snap out of it and join the rest of the world.

  “Do you want to come to work with me today?” he asks unexpectedly. I don’t want to go with him. There are a lot of hang ups about myself I didn’t have before, now everything I do comes with an unwelcome emotion, as if life’s sole purpose is to fuck around with my insecurities.

  “I was going to stay here and keep applying for jobs.”

  “You can do that at the office. There’s everything you need there.” Walking over to the sink, he rinses out his bowl and stacks it in the dishwasher. “It’s going to be a quiet day, and I thought you’d like to see what I do.”

  Disappointing him isn’t an option.

  Begrudgingly, I head for the bathroom and step into the shower. As the hot water scalds my skin, I wrap a fist around my hard cock and stroke myself to the image of a brunette beauty that has the power to erase it all. The anxiety leaves my body, as water washes off my release. By the time I get out, the tension returns, and just like the kiss with Emerson, relief is also too fleeting.

  The drive to his office only takes half an hour. Parking outside a white cement rendered building I notice the PCYC signage has remained the same since I was a kid. Knowing not everything has changed while I was away offers the smallest amount of relief. Surrounded by a large grass area, the PCYC is there to provide a home away from home. There are offices for the youth workers, a canteen to provide food, and a place that offers a sense of community for those who need it.

  “Everyone is pretty laid back here,” he announces. “There will be a few young people coming in and out of my office, but they shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “And you just want me to sit there with you?”

  “You’ll have access to any computer in the room, and if you need me, I’m right there.”

  “Won’t that be distracting?”

  “No. Trust me, you’re the least distracting thing here.”

  “Jesus H. Christ, there’s two of you.” A blonde beauty walks in the room, blatantly checking me out. “Hendrix, I can’t believe you left this piece of information out.”

  “No, I’m pretty sure I told you I had a brother.”

  “You didn’t say he was gorgeous.” She stares at me even while talking to Hendrix.

  “He looks exactly like me.”

  “That’s right. Gorgeous.” Setting herself up on another desk in the room, it’s easy to tell it’s an effortless relationship between them. “I’m Stacey by the way. I work with Hendrix.”

  “I’m Jagger.”

  “Your names even match,” she squeals.

  I look over at Drix and he’s shaking his head. “You’ll be used to her by the end of the day.”

  With my hands shoved deep into my pockets, I walk over to the only empty desk in the room. “Just sit down and stop overthinking it.” It’s become habit now for him to get me out of my own head. Just a quick reminder that my self doubt is always going to make things appear bigger than they are. Sitting down, I manage to figure out the computer pretty quick. I grew up with them, and we were able to use them in prison for educational purposes. The only thing I’m adjusting to is the internet. It was a lot slower when we used it for school, and now, it’s impossible not to get stuck down the rabbit hole. The ability to freely ask Google questions is a blessing in disguise. I don’t have to ask anyone, and I can devour all types of different information while working out what the fuck I’m going to do next.

  The corridor fills with loud voices, and I watch Hendrix and Stacey with curiosity as they rise to meet the noise.

  “Hey, what’s going on out here?” he shouts.

  “Fucker owes me money, that’s what.”

  I stand, the anger in the young man’s voice putting me on edge. Sticking my head out the door, I see Hendrix standing between two boys, and Stacey watching on. They’re no older than sixteen, testosterone flaring.

  “I told you I would give it to you soon,” the other boy explains.

  “I need it now, or my brother is going to kick my arse.”

  “Your brother’s a dickhead anyway,” he spits out. On instinct I run out of the room and hold back the young man who has his back to me, while Hendrix does the same to the other kid. Everybody knows insulting someone’s family is off limits.

  The boy cranes his neck to see who’s holding him, his eyes bulging out of his head when he realises there’s two of us.

  “It looks good on you.” Hendrix smirks at me holding onto the kid. He motions his head back to his office and we all walk there together to sort it out.

  Stacey quickly sets up two chairs opposite from one another, each boy taking a seat, seemingly familiar with the process.

  I sit back behind the computer, one eye on the screen and the other watching the way these kids hang on Drix’s every word.
r />   “Jason why do you owe Adam money?”

  “I bought something off him.”

  Drix shakes his head knowingly. “Adam, you said you were done with that shit. Come to think of it, you both did.” He looks back at Adam. “I don’t think your Juvenile Justice Officer is going to be impressed when I call him up.”

  “Please, don’t,” he begs. “If I get locked up again, that’s it for me.”

  “Your words tell me you care, man, but your actions just aren’t adding up. I’m a man of my word, and I’m not going to stick up for you if you aren’t a man of yours.”

  Adam hangs his head in shame, the silence stretching between us all.

  “I just came out of jail,” I confess. All eyes dart to me. I don’t know if I’m overstepping any boundaries, but I feel compelled to explain to this kid he has other options.

  “What did you do?” he asks.

  “Dumb shit. Things I thought made me a man. I thought I was invincible, but guess what? I wasn’t, and I paid the price. Twelve years away from anyone I knew and everyone I loved. Nothing was worth that.” I let my words sink, knowing everyone is shocked I chose to speak up. “Is that the life you want?”

  He shakes his head.

  “Listen to him.” I point to Hendrix. “Because if I did, I would’ve spent those years with my family. Not by myself.”

  “Jagger, you have to come to my birthday dinner on Friday night,” Stacey blurts out.

  “Ah, I don’t think I can. I’ve got curfew.” It’s embarrassing enough telling people you have to be home by ten pm, but I would rather be honest than sit through a dinner with people I don’t know.

  “Hendrix, make sure he comes okay?” She dismisses my excuse. “Do you guys want to go down the pub for a drink?”

  “Sure, we’ll meet you there in fifteen.” Hendrix answers for the both of us.

  I haven’t drank alcohol anywhere but home. My body is still getting used to it, Even fifteen-year-old me could give me a run for my money these days.

  The pub is only a five minute drive from their office and packed with an after work crowd as we walk through to the outdoor patio. In the back corner is a tall round bar table, Stacey already there reserving our seats.

  “I’m just going to put it out there. She’s going to try and crack onto you.”

  I laugh, “thanks for the warning.”

  “She will, and you should probably let her.”

  “Really?

  “Definitely. I mean, how are you going to know if your dick even works.”

  I punch him in the shoulder. “Fuck you, my dick works just fine. I just don’t want to disrespect your place and bring some meaningless sex there right now.”

  “Since when are you such a gentleman?”

  “I’m trying to avoid shitting where I eat, that’s all.”

  The conversation ends as soon as we get within hearing range of Stacey. I take a seat next to her while Hendrix heads off to the bar to buy our drinks.

  “You did really great with those kids today,” she states. “Some days it’s impossible to get through, but I think having someone talk about it firsthand helps.”

  “It’s nice to know that something good can come of it, right?” Today was the only time I ever felt like my experiences might’ve made a positive impact on someone else’s life.

  “It’s going to get better. You just need to relax and let things happen.”

  Drix returns, and the alcohol takes away the chip on my shoulder. The three of us easily fall into comfortable banter as they share stories about their least favourite co-workers.

  “Do you guys want another?” Drix asks.

  “No, I’m good.” Stopping at two, I enjoy the buzz but still being able to have my faculties about me.

  “Stace?” He points at her empty wine glass.

  “Sure, why not?”

  As soon as he turns his back on us, Stacey’s hand travels up my thigh. My dick stirs, because let’s be honest, it doesn’t take much. Pretending to be unaffected, I take one last long pull of my beer, finishing off the bottle. By the time I slam the drink down, my cock is hard and tenting my jeans. I place my hand over hers before she starts palming my dick in public. The conversation with Hendrix plays at the back of my mind.

  I look back at my watch, and then back at her. “Want to go back to your place?”

  It takes us twenty minutes to get to her place, five seconds to kiss, twelve seconds for our clothes to come off and fifteen seconds for her to get on her knees and suck me off.

  I want to tell her she didn’t have to do that, but by the time her tongue swirls around the head of my cock, resistance is futile. I guide her up and down, the tip hitting the back of her throat. One hand strokes me, while the other massages my balls.

  The connection between us is nowhere to be found, and I’m regretting my decision by the second. Whatever this is, it’s stale and detached. My only purpose is to get off and go home.

  “If you don’t want it in your mouth, stop,” I warn.

  Ignoring me, she moves her head faster, and my spine begins to tingle with that addictive feeling. I sink into the wall and let my release course through me.

  “Fuck,” I hiss. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

  10

  Jagger

  “Dad,” Dakota calls out from the kitchen. “Close your eyes; we have a surprise for you.”

  “Did the pizza come when I was in the shower?”

  “No, the delivery guy hasn’t come yet.”

  “I’m coming to the kitchen.”

  “No,” they both call out.

  I fall onto the couch and wait to see what Dakota and Drix have up their sleeves. We usually have dinner together every few nights, but both Drix and I said we had good news to share, and we wanted Dakota to be here.

  The bond between them surprises me each day. On more than one occasion Dakota reveals how Hendrix has spent years telling her stories from our childhood and making sure she knew everything about me, even if I wasn’t here in the flesh.

  “Okay, we’re coming. Close your eyes.”

  I entertain the charade, and wait for them to give me more instructions. I feel the couch dip, and the shuffling of Dakota settling near my feet. “Okay, Dad give me your hands.”

  She places a box the same size as my hands in my open palms. “Can I open my eyes now?”

  “Yep. Uncle Drix give me my camera, quick.”

  Dakota is obsessed with photos, but not just with the social media aspect of it like most kids her age. She loves capturing the moment. And she does it well.

  “Ready? she asks, excitement in her tone.

  I nod.

  “Now open.”

  My eyes gravitate to the box immediately. It’s a new Apple iPhone. Sitting up properly, I swing my legs off the couch, and Dakota rushes to be by my side. I wrap my arms around her shoulders. “This is too much.”

  “Can we open it?” she asks, ignoring my statement.

  I look up and see Drix watching me with trepidation. “Dakota wanted to be able to contact you at all times, and to teach you to take photos.”

  “So, it’s all your fault is it?” My head tilts in her direction.

  “Absolutely. Can we stop the chit chat and open it now?”

  “You’re going to have to show me how it works. It looks ridiculously complicated.” The doorbell sounds. “But first, pizza.”

  We sit around the dining table, a box in front of each of us. There’s no sharing food in this house.

  “I have some good news,” I announce. “You know I’ve been looking for jobs, and a few recruitment places finally got back to me.”

  “What will you do? When do you start?”

  I laugh at Dakota’s infectious excitement. “I’ll go to their office on Monday to sign papers and start on Tuesday. It’s nothing too flashy, just some factory work. But it’s consistent. Same hours, same days, and I can do overtime.”

  “That’s great bro. I guess the phone was p
erfect timing,” he says with a smirk.

  “Now, what’s your good news?” I ask.

  “It’s actually more good news for you.”

  I narrow my eyes at him, completely clueless about what he’s about to say.

  “Well, Stacey and I spoke to our regional manager, and we think it would be great for you to do a few speeches at the centre.”

  I furrow my brow in uneasiness. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

  “Absolutely. Those kids listened to you the other day, and unfortunately, your story could be their story. I think you could make a difference.”

  “I think it’s great, Dad,” Dakota chimes in. “Then people will get to know the real you.”

  “The real me?”

  “Yeah, kids at school always think that people who were in jail aren’t good people.”

  I straighten my back, worry that Dakota is struggling at school because of me. “You talk about jail with other kids?”

  “No.” She puts her head down.

  “Hey, hey, why the face? What happened?” I glance at Hendrix, taking in his shrug. “You can tell me anything. Or if you don’t want to talk to me, your uncle and Mum are always there to listen.”

  “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you.”

  I walk around the table and crouch before her. Reaching for her chin with my thumb and forefinger, I raise her head, guiding her eyes to meet mine. “What is it?”

  Her expressive eyes are filled with compassion, their concern matching the statement that leaves her mouth. “I don’t want it to upset you.”

  “It won’t.”

  “Promise,” she implores.

  “I Promise.”

  “Today, one of the girls I used to be friends with told everyone you recently came out of jail.” The words tumble out of her mouth like a confession, afraid of the consequences.

  “Yeah.”

  “But then they all started saying that you must’ve been bad to be there, and how you’re a bad dad.”

  A tear escapes her eyes, and my thumb swipes it away. “Do you believe those things about me?”