by Aven Jayce
THE
DARK SCARLETT
AVEN JAYCE
The Dark Scarlett
Copyright © 2014 Aven Jayce
Cover and Book Design by Triple J Marketing
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
and incidents are the product of the author’s
imagination and are used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
or events, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved
No part of this book can be reproduced, scanned,
or distributed in any printed or electronic form
without permission. Purchase only authorized
editions. The only exception is by a reviewer,
who may quote short excerpts in a review.
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For Chaz Pink and KLP
From Aven: “The subject matter in this novel isn’t for the faint-of-heart, and, well fuck, there’s a lot of foul language plus some sex. Descriptive sex I should say. You should also know that my characters have issues and can be abrupt, nasty, or full of angst. They make bad decisions from time to time and aren’t all that likeable. As a warning, the content may be considered dark or taboo for some readers. This isn’t one of those stories full of sweet puppies and unicorns. Well, I guess it does have some dogs in it, but no puppies.”
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Epilogue
Author Page
PROLOGUE
“I think we’re finished with all this shit, son.”
My father takes my hand as the plane heads down the runway and lifts into the air. He knows I hate to fly. I try not to think about it or anything we just discussed with the Vegas detectives. Spending months in and out of the police station back home in St. Louis, and now here in Vegas, wasn’t by choice. I would’ve rather devoted my time to reconnecting with my father and hanging out with my new bride, Sophia, than discussing her father, Paul Jameson. I’m also a wreck when I leave others to run The Dark Scarlett, our family-owned wine bar. I’m not saying I’m a saint when it comes to taking care of the place, after all, I love to drink and fuck my wife while at work, but at least I’m around if there’s a problem and not hundreds of miles away.
“Talk to me, Cove. I’m not a fan of flying either, but I can tell you have a lot more on your mind than this plane,” my father says.
“Yeah, I worry about Sophia when she’s left alone. I asked Haverty, our head of security for the Scarlett, to keep an eye on her, but still, she’s a handful and has a mind of her own. If she wants to go out at one in the morning for a drink, she will. So hearing that David Rosen was part of the reason you were released from prison, and knowing how conniving that shithead can be, I worry. I just want to make sure she’s safe. She’s been known to sleepwalk when she’s under stress, and...”
“I’m sure she’s fine,” he cuts in. “Your mother’s just one door away from your loft and I’m certain she’s requested Sophia continue to sleep at our place until we return. Better yet, she demanded it,” he smiles. “Sophia’s a good woman, Cove, and I love her. Warm, tough, and beautiful.”
“Fucking amazing in bed as well.”
“Oh yeah?” my father laughs.
“Forget I said that.”
“No, it’s nice to hear you voice your feelings for once. You and I never got a chance to discuss things like this when you were growing up. We were distant from one another when it came to discussing women because of Paul Jameson. You deserve to be happy and in a relationship, you know?”
“Sophia deserves happiness too. Don’t ever tell her I said this, but I’m thankful each and every day that her father was murdered.”
“Me too, son,” he whispers. “Paul not only infected our family with his porn business, but many other innocent lives as well. You do know David Rosen was always the real thug in charge of that company and that Paul was just a pawn, David’s scapegoat if anything ever went wrong? He’d never admit to any of that. He was so fucking delusional. That porn company was full of drugs, people getting raped, kidnappings, and murders. I can’t believe the number of times they paid people off to keep their mouths...”
“Excuse me, Miss,” the woman in front of us signals to the flight attendant. “Is there an empty seat on this plane that I can move to?”
“Sure, follow me.”
The woman stands and frowns. “No offense, but the two of you are fucked up. What are you, drug dealers, or in the mob or something?” she huffs and follows the stewardess to another seat a few rows ahead.
My father turns and releases my hand. “We need to have a pile of notecards to pass around to people who sit next to us that reads, My son was forced into a porn ring when he was a young teen, and I was set up to take the fall for the same company for their illegal undertakings, spent years in prison as an innocent man, and was finally released after Paul Jameson was murdered. He was the guy behind most of our problems. And his daughter, Sophia, and my son fell in love, but not before Paul had them locked away in his Vegas home, and...”
“Dad, stop. You’ll need a book to explain all of that, or a trilogy for that matter,” I laugh. “It’s not gonna fit on a notecard.”
“Different subject?”
“I guess that would be appropriate for the rest of the flight. Why don’t we talk about marriage?” I say, twirling the ring on my finger.
“Yes, a much happier subject for most. Everything going okay? Is Sophia upset about the wedding?”
“I wouldn’t call it a wedding. And no, she’s not upset. It was her idea to get married at the courthouse.”
“Your mother’s not buying it. Most women want a big wedding.”
“God, there’s so much wrong with what you just said. You know Sophia’s not like most women. Besides, she has no family to speak of. A big wedding for us would include three or four people, all from our side of the family, and even that’s pushing it.”
“True. So the two of you are okay?”
“Better than okay. Having her in my life is like being a child and waking up on Christmas morning to a stack of presents under the tree. I understand that Sophia had a fucked up life, but so do I, or I did... who we are and what’s happened to us makes our relationship and love for one another that much stronger. I’m one lucky bastard. I can’t imagine any other woman wanting to be with me if she knew about my past.”
“That’s the only thing we have to thank Paul for; she wouldn’t be in our lives today if it wasn’t for him,” he says.
“I don’t know about that. I’d rather believe it was a chance meeting. I didn’t have to bring her into my loft the night I found her asleep in the hall of our building. And I didn’t have to pursue her after that. We made our relationship happen, not him.”
“True. I love the positive spin you’ve put on it. So if everything’s good, why do you want to discuss your marriage?”
“I don’t... I want to discuss yours.”
My father looks at me from the corner of his eye and th
en gazes out the window into the dark night sky. He runs his hand through his hair and exhales, a habit I picked up from him and unconsciously mimic whenever Soph asks a question I’d rather avoid answering.
“Dad?”
He swallows hard and mumbles something, then closes his eyes and leans back in his seat. “Your mother and I love one another, Cove. But I was in prison for years and that can be trying on a man. I’m not the same person I used to be. I need to have time for myself each day, and you know how your mother can be... she’s suffocating.”
“No, she’s worried about you. She said you disappear for hours at a time, or the two of you will be in the middle of a conversation and you’ll stop talking and just zone out. Sophia and I can hear the two of you arguing every day. Maybe you should be in therapy after everything you’ve been through.”
He laughs sarcastically and shakes his head. “Wait, who needs therapy? I was beat up in prison, but I didn’t suffer the same abuse as you and Sophia. Your mother and I will be fine, let Sophia have that big heart of yours, don’t waste it on me.”
“Oh, knock it off,” I sigh. “We should all see a psychologist together, as a family. I’ll call and make an appointment tomorrow.”
“No,” he opens his eyes and glares at me. “If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll go by myself. You don’t need to hear about my time spent in that cell and the things that happened, okay?”
“You know it will make everyone happy if you go.”
“I know.”
“Promise?”
“Yes, I’ll make the call,” he says.
“Good, Mom will be relieved.”
“Your mother needs to get out of the house more often, especially with someone other than myself. Every morning she’s in her art studio, and she doesn’t come out until late afternoon. She’s always been a little out of the ordinary compared to most woman, but I believe she’s turning into a recluse.”
“Dad, all she had to keep herself occupied when you were in prison were her paints and a camera. She’s been this way for years. You just didn’t know it because you weren’t here. At least the colors and content in her work are brighter and livelier than before.”
“She needs more friends, Cove. Besides you and Sophia, she only has the workers from the wine bar to keep her company, but she doesn’t see any of them outside of work.”
“We could all use some friends. I have Haverty, but he and his girlfriend aren’t the type to get into a deep conversation about politics or current events, or to take out to a fancy restaurant with Sophia. He’s got such a foul mouth.”
“So do you.”
I laugh and nod in agreement. “At least I can say I’ve met a lot of interesting and high-class customers while running The Dark Scarlett, but I’d like to meet some people who aren’t drunk or hanging out in a bar late at night. I suppose that’s not possible with our busy schedule. But yeah, friends would be nice.”
“Or a grandchild,” he mutters under his breath.
“Don’t fucking start. I have to hear this shit every day from Mom. When it happens, it happens.”
“Are you trying?”
I grin at the thought of what trying means to Sophia and me. Yep, on the coffee table, against the wall, in the shower, on the balcony, in the pool, sometimes in our office at the Scarlett, fuck, any place is a good place to be inside of that woman.
“I see,” my father smiles at the obvious thoughts filling my head.
“It will happen soon enough.”
“A name?”
“Ha,” my face lights up. “Not Cove.”
“No? Not a Cove Ambrose Everton the fourth? Your grandfather’s turning in his grave right now.”
“Sophia likes names of cities, states, and places, and who said it would be a boy? If it’s a girl we can’t name her Cove.”
“Of course you can. You can name a child anything.”
“Anything in good taste that is, but anyway, Sophia likes Dakota, Jackson, Brooklyn, and Ocean.”
“Ocean? How is that any different from Cove?”
“Don’t know, it’s what she likes,” I shrug. “If she’s gonna go through a pregnancy and get all fat and hormonal and shit, she can name the baby anything she wants. I trust her, and so far I love the names she’s thinking about... except for Ocean. I believe that one will pass.”
“But what if she calls the baby Thor, or Dracula, or some horrendous serial killer name like Wayne Gacy?”
“Then those are good names too. I kind of like Thor Everton, maybe I should suggest that one to her, tell her it’s one you thought up. She might go for it.”
“Now you’re just being an ass,” my father shakes his head and laughs. “Okay, if you trust your wife to give my grandchild a decent, strong, significant name, other than Thor, then I trust her as well, but don’t tell your mother she doesn’t have a say in this. It will break her heart.”
“Don’t worry... I can only imagine the names she’ll come up with, if she hasn’t already started a list,” I exhale. “You both need to give us some time. Like I said, when it happens...”
“So everything’s okay then?”
“After this final trip, and no more long hours with detectives about Paul’s business, Jameson Industries, his house, my past, the abuse, your past, identifying people in videos, and all those fucked up years in the porn industry, yes, everything’s okay. I’m going home to my beautiful wife and will focus on her and The Dark Scarlett. Opening that wine bar was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.”
My father nods and pats my leg in a loving gesture. I stare at his fingers and remember when another inmate in prison broke them, every last one, and then proceeded to slam his head against the concrete floor... just for a cigarette, which my father didn’t have.
I share his features, tall, fit build, same dark eyes, dark brow, and brownish-black hair, similar to my mother as well, only prison has aged him, and his hair now has strands of gray while scars zigzag across his body. There’s a line that runs along his jawline and another under his eye where he had stitches. I often look at his arms which are covered with prison tattoos, and one I wish he’d have covered with another tat. It’s just two words, sweet boy, and I imagine it refers to his role with other prisoners and doesn’t have any reference to me. I’m not a big fan of tattoos, not after I was forced to have one as a kid... the one for the porn industry... my wife says her father’s company branded all of us like cattle. She covered hers, changing it from Property of Jameson Industries to a dove. Very plain, yet meaningful. It’s what my father called her when they first met, the one woman who may be able to offer peace to his son. I often find myself calling her “beautiful,” especially when she flaunts her naked flesh and throws me her fuck me face, while other times, because of the tat, I’ll refer to her as “Beautiful Dove,” or just “Dove.”
The tat I picked out for myself was the first one I saw at the tattoo parlor. A black rose, with razor sharp ends, subtle, just the size to cover the tat from the porn industry. My mother was horrified when she saw it, assuming it represented death or a dark soul, but the black rose also signifies the end of an era and for myself, the start of a deep commitment to Sophia. She chilled out when I explained my interpretation. I thought my mother, of all people, would be a bit more tattoo savvy since her one leg is covered from ankle to upper thigh with them. But I’ve been more than a little depressed from months of being questioned by detectives, so her first reaction to my choice of design was understandably a negative one.
I look away from my father’s arms and back to his face... his scars.
I didn’t notice his weakened state the day of his release from prison. The excitement of having him back in my life blinded me to the extent of his injuries, and I saw only a free man. A man who gave up everything to ensure my mother and I remained alive. I was eighteen when he was set up by Paul and arrested. Sometimes I still get lost in that time period, fantasizing about my compassionate, soft-spoken father of the pas
t. He’s right. Prison did change him, like Paul’s porn industry changed me... fuck, I’ll never be able to get that fucker out of my head.
“I can tell by those white knuckles of yours that you’re not thinking about Sophia anymore,” my father says.
“Sorry.” I relax and exhale. “I know, I just said everything’s okay, but the reality is I still cycle through thoughts of the past. I have constant daydreams about you being in jail and Paul...”
“Cove,” he interrupts. “I understand. Do you think I fucking believed you when you said all was well? I’m not a complete idiot. I’m your father, and you and I share that past. It’s in my head every day, so I know it has to be in yours.”
“That’s why you zone out all the time when mother’s talking to you?”
“Sometimes, I suppose that’s why.”
“Any advice on how to stop it?”
“Yeah, think about your wife.”
“That can’t be what you do.”
He laughs and whispers his response before heading for the restroom. “I do, son. I’m nothing without her.”
I’m nothing without her. It resonates in my head while I sit alone and wait for my father to return. I believe him. Even though they’ve been arguing, I know he loves her, and the two of them would crumble without one another... like Sophia and me. I’m a fool to think my father would be his younger happy-go-lucky self after years in prison. Jesus, I couldn’t imagine being away from Sophia for that long and stepping right back into the relationship without needing time to acclimate. Different home, aged bodies, horrific memories, his son grown... now I feel like a dick that I haven’t been more understanding. And if I was released from prison and didn’t have any family, anything to grasp onto, I’d be nothing.
“White knuckles again? Can’t leave you alone for a second,” my father takes his seat and holds my hand, once again in an attempt to offer comfort.
“I think it’s a habit. Anyway, thank you.”
“For?”
“Adapting,” I whisper.
He smiles and brings out his iPad. “You’re very sensitive, Cove. From the day you were born you’ve been thin-skinned with a big heart. I hope Sophia can toughen you up.”
