Dad’s eyes widened. He lifted the plastic tumbler and drained the liquid. “You’re lying. He’s a good boy. He’s straight, now. You always lie when things don’t go your way.”
Jackson shook his head, unwilling to dignify his father with a response. He ground his teeth together before saying, “Do you know where Jake keeps the dog food?”
“I think he said he keeps it in his room.” Dad pointed toward the back of the trailer, the cigarette pinned between his index and middle fingers, sending a curling trail of smoke into the air.
“And you didn’t think to find it to feed the dog?” It took every ounce of strength Jackson possessed to not storm toward his father and beat him to a bloody pulp. He stood in the kitchen, his fingers coiling into fists.
“Jakey said he took care of the dog. I just stopped by to greet him when he returns.”
“Fuck, Dad, that’s just wrong to not take care of a helpless animal.”
Dad lifted a bony shoulder in a shrug. “Not my dog.”
Jackson snorted. “You’re going to have to wait a while for Jake to return. He’s in the hospital. And then he’ll go to prison.”
Dad jerked and dropped the cigarette.
“Fuck,” he said, his shaky hand shooting out to retrieve the glowing stick. A bright orange ember fell from it as he lifted it from the carpet. He stubbed the butt out in an empty can sitting next to him on the cheap side-table and ground his dirty black canvas shoe back and forth on top of the now-smoldering carpet. “Are you shitting me? What did you do to him?”
The last shred of Jackson’s restraint disappeared. He whirled to face his father. “What did I do to him? Me? It’s more like what he did to me! Not only me, scores of firefighters and an entire forest!”
His dad reeled backward, pressing his head against the back of the sofa. “What the fuck are you talking about? You’re always so dramatic, you know that?”
Jackson stormed across the trailer floor until he loomed over his father. “Your son, you know, the son who was in a program with you, decided to get high in the woods. He cooked his dope over aluminum foil and left the candle to burn until it caught the whole damn forest on fire. Meanwhile, he was comatose.”
Dad lifted his arms to shield his face as if Jackson was going to hit him.
“Then, because he’s as bright as you are, he ran. He didn’t come to get me because I might have been able to put the fire out. No, he ran like a chicken. Then, he fell down a ravine and got stabbed through the gut with a sharp stick.”
Dad’s mouth pulled back in a grimace.
“You’re lying,” he shouted. “Lying!”
Jackson scoffed. “I’m not that creative, Dad. I had to leave the fire line I was on to rescue him.”
“I’ll bet you hated that, didn’t you? You hated to save your brother.”
“No, Dad, I didn’t hate it. It’s what I do. I save lives,” Jackson said with a growl. “And then I got caught in the middle of a firestorm. A fucking firestorm. And my team and I had to deploy our shelters. We almost died, Dad. Is that what you would have wanted? For me to die? Then you wouldn’t have to ever think of me —wait —you never do think of me, do you?” Spittle flew from his mouth as he yelled.
Dad brought his legs up and shoved the bottom of his shoes into Jackson’s thighs. Jackson stumbled backward.
“Stop it!” his father said, waving his hands. “Stop talking! I don’t want to hear what you have to say!”
Jackson lunged toward his dad, grabbed the collar of his button-down shirt, and hauled him to his feet.
“You pathetic old man. Do you have any idea how your and Mom’s disappearance act affected Jake and me?” Jackson shook him, anger boiling through his veins. “Huh? Do you?”
The whites of Dad’s eyes shone. His gaze darted back and forth. He raised his hands and clutched Jackson’s wrists. “You kids were always so capable. You seemed to keep it together.”
“We shouldn’t have been left to raise ourselves,” Jackson said, his voice low and sinister. “Jake cried for you, Dad. He cried for you nearly every day, but did you ever think about us after you left us for good? I’ll bet you didn’t. Am I right?”
“I didn’t think you…Me and Maureen…” His dad’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “We got caught up in…I thought you were doing all right or you would have called me.”
“You didn’t leave us a forwarding number!” Jackson shouted. “We had no way to contact you. None! And Jake did nothing but cry while I tried to keep it together and make sure we could eat and we had clean clothes. I protected Jake. That was your job, not mine.” He shoved his dad away from him.
Dad fell into the sofa in a heap. He curled up into a ball, pulling his arms over his head as if he might disappear.
“You’re pathetic, you know that?” Jackson said.
He whirled away, suddenly feeling exhausted. He sped into the bedroom to search for a leash, anything Jake might possess for the dog, eager to get out of this place. Inside the bedroom, he took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself.
The room had one small open closet. A few of Jake’s shirts hung from plastic hangers. The rest lay in heaps on the filthy carpet. The bed was unmade and stunk of piss like Jake wet the bed on the regular. Drug paraphernalia lay scattered on the dirty blue sheets. An empty tuna-can jammed with cigarette butts sat on the wooden crate next to the bed.
“Fuck, Jake, is this how you live?” Jackson muttered as he turned his attention to the closet. Underneath one of Jake’s shirts he found a bag of Bark, Bark, dog food, one of the cheapest kinds available. Not taking that shit. It’s probably full of sawdust and crap. We’ll get him a burger on the way home, and then he and the girls can share dog food for a couple of days.
He turned around, placed his hands on his hips, and stared at the room, his nose wrinkling at his brother’s slovenliness. His gaze landed on a mobile phone poking out from under the bed. It lay on top of a manila folder. He took a couple of steps, leaned over, and picked up the phone. Holding the phone, he studied the folder.
Big block letters had been written on the outside in Jake’s handwriting. They read, “Karlos Rivera.”
“What the…?” A frigid sensation spread over his skin, making his hair stand up.
He stared at the phone. My idiot brother wouldn’t leave his phone un-password protected, would he? He thumbed it open. Yep, still an idiot. He tapped the texting icon, not caring about invading his brother’s privacy.
Several recent messages from Shark52 to Oceans111, his brother’s text handle, stared back at him. Who is Shark52, and what does he want with Oceans111? He scrolled up to recent messages and thumbed open one of them.
Shark52: Yo, Oceans, I need to rattle the bitch. I’m about to go down for murder. I’m going to find out if she snitched. She still in Seattle?
Oceans111: Yeah. I think so. I don’t know her or anything. She still works at that clinic.
Jackson pursed his lips. At least he didn’t give up her new address, and he lied about her still living in Seattle. He continued to scan the messages.
Shark52: I need to get her attention and let her know I’m thinking of her. No one escapes me and lives to tell about it. And, my hands are tied for a while.
Oceans111: Wat u got in mind?
Shark521: Start with flowers. She’ll know who they’re from. Make sure and include one black rose.
Oceans111: U sending money? Can’t afford this on my own.
Shark52: The usual amount will be wired.
Oceans111: K. Add a note?
Shark52: Yes. Make sure and say mi pequeño pájaro cantor.
Oceans52: K. Then wat?
Shark52: Wait until I contact u, that’s wat. Fuck. And don’t piss me off. I’ll hunt you down so fast you won’t know what hit you.
Jackson’s heart pounded in his chest. My brother worked for Karlos Rivera? That’s probably why he asked me if I’d bail him out if he were arrested.
He picked up the manil
a folder and opened it. His arms began to shake as he flipped through the pages. Inside he found photos of Blaire…lots and lots of photos. Some were taken of her outside a mental health clinic with the Space Needle in the background. Didn’t she work at a health clinic when Rivera got to her? She was going to beauty school and working downtown. How could my brother have known her back then?
Jackson scanned the phone for earlier messages. He found some from a couple of years ago.
Shark52: Hey asshole. My lieutenant said you got the goods without paying. You owe me.
Oceans111: Who is this?
Shark52: Your worst nightmare. Your guy Macavelli screwed my guy. We made a deal. He gave you to me. You’re going to be my bitch.
Oceans111: Wat?
Shark52: How clear do you need me to be?
Oceans111: You don’t know where I live.
Shark52: Wanna bet? You live in a piece of shit trailer in Port Coyote. Don’t fuck with me.
Oceans111: What do you want from me?
Shark52: I seen someone I want to get to know. She works at a health clinic in Seattle. Blaire Something. I need to keep a low profile. You work something out maybe I won’t slit your throat. Maybe I’ll toss you some cash.
Oceans111: I don’t live in Seattle.
Shark52: You can get there, can’t you?
Oceans111: I got no money.
Shark52: Work it out. I’ll pay you if she works out. But you don’t deliver, you’re dead.
Oceans111: I’ll deliver.
Jackson thumbed down a little.
Oceans111: Okay, I found her. She’s going on vacation in two weeks.
Shark52: Where to?
Oceans111: Mountain High Resort near Denver.
Shark52: I have biz in CO July 15 near that resort. Perfect.
Oceans111: How much money do I get?
Shark52: Hold up on the money talk. I need to meet her first.
Oceans111: You promised.
Shark52: And you owe me, don’t forget.
Jackson dropped the phone on the bed. That time Jake went to Seattle and got a scrip for anti-depressants…he went to the office where Blaire worked.
His breath had grown ragged. He had enough evidence to put his brother behind bars for longer than his stint for burning the forest. His brother was going to help Rivera find Blaire and murder her if the money was right. So what if he said she was still in Seattle? Jake could always be bought.
For a second, he wavered, as per his usual M.O.. He’s my brother...my blood. But then reality sunk in. Jake started the fire that nearly torched me. He put Blaire in Rivera’s line of sight. But how can I share this stuff with Blaire? She’s going to hate me. She won’t want to be with me. My brother is responsible for Rivera finding her. This ‘enabling my fucked-up brother’ ends now.
He didn’t know who to be angrier at—his brother, or himself.
Slow footsteps shuffled about in the front room.
Jackson tucked the burner phone into his pocket, gripped the folder, and barreled into the kitchen.
His dad stood before the counter, refilling his plastic cup with some cheap liquor.
“Find what you needed?” he said as if their stormy conversation from a few minutes ago hadn’t occurred.
“You could say that,” Jackson said, keeping his tone even.
Dad pivoted and leaned against the chipped counter. He lifted the tumbler to his lips and took a long swallow. “We cool?”
Jackson’s brow furrowed. “No, we’re not cool.” He cornered his father, stepping so close, he could smell his sour, greasy skin. “You listen to me. I’m about to walk out that door and never look back at this place again. You’re to never contact me or even think of me. Consider me dead to you. If Jake needs help with his legal fees which he’ll need, he can contact you. He’s in so deep he’ll never see the light of day.”
Dad’s face paled. “How am I going to afford legal fees?”
“Figure it out. Use a public defender. I don’t care. The only thing I care about is leaving you behind the same way you left us.”
“You can’t mean that. We’re blood. Sure, I made mistakes, but mistakes can be forgiven,” his dad said, blinking rapidly.
“Not these kinds of mistakes. And, how can you be so nonchalant about what I just said to you, what, ten minutes ago?” Jackson shook his head.
“I figured you needed time to cool off, is all.” Dad tried to step around him, but Jackson blocked his path.
“Did you now?” Jackson blinked, wondering how someone so stupid could be his father. “Well, you figured wrong. I’d advise you to go and sit down on that couch so I can move about the kitchen and get some water for the dog.”
“But…” his dad spluttered.
“Now, Dad,” Jackson said in a voice so calm and chilling he surprised himself. He stepped out of the way. “Go,” he said, pointing toward the front room.
Like an obedient dog, his dad scooted away from Jackson and scurried toward the sofa.
Jackson shoved the folder and the phone in the orange bucket. Next, he placed the dog bowl inside. Then, he rooted around in the cupboard, finding a huge plastic cup—the kind one got when one purchased a Big and Tasty drink from the convenience store downtown. He filled it with water, picked up the bucket, and strode outside, never sparing his father a glance. His father didn’t make a sound.
Once Jackson reached the SUV, he opened the hatch, set the dog bowl in the back, and filled it with water.
Padre, barely fitting in the back of Blaire’s Honda, wagged his tail and began slurping up the water.
“Is everything okay?” Blaire asked.
“I’m not sure.” With his brother tied to Karlos, Jackson had no reason to believe that Blaire would still want to be with him. How could she even look at me, knowing my brother put her in Karlos’ sight?
Once the water bowl was empty, he patted Padre’s head and gently closed the hatch. Carrying the bucket with the folder and phone inside, he strode around and got himself settled in the passenger seat with the bucket in the back seat. He met Blaire’s eyes, looking at her intently. “I’ve got some heavy news to share, but I need about thirty minutes to gather my thoughts. Can you give me that?”
She nodded, her face as serious as he’d ever seen it.
At that moment, he experienced a love so strong it nearly overwhelmed him. And, to his utter amazement, he knew he loved her enough to let her go.
Chapter 37
With the night sky a gentle respite to the last twenty-four hours, Jackson sat on the back deck, his heart twisted into a ball of fear.
Blaire had gone into the house to get them both something to drink.
So much had happened in the last day and a half. What is it? Two in the morning? His mind was so jumbled with thoughts and events he could barely process a single thing. Now he waited for Blaire to emerge from the house so he could tell her his brother was the one who had put her in the crosshairs of Karlos Rivera. And then, she would leave him, he had no doubt, and he could add one more shitstorm to his day. How did it come to this? We were so happy.
He glanced at the dogs out in their kennel. They were all engaged in a game of “sniff you to see if you’re safe.” So far, the consensus seemed to be a tail-wagging yes. Midget and Maxine had been overjoyed to greet their new adopted brother. And Padre just seemed happy to be well cared for and fed. So, once they’d been introduced and showed no signs of wanting to hurt one another, he’d put them all in the kennel so he and Blaire could talk.
The whoosh of the sliding glass door followed by light footsteps shocked his heart into a pounding bass beat crescendo. He sat up straight, pressed his palms into the wrought iron table, and waited.
Blaire smiled as she approached, bearing two mugs of steaming liquid. She sat one in front of Jackson, and one on the table for her. Then, she settled into the seat opposite him.
She looked so damn pretty illuminated in the dim porch light, he almost thought about not saying a
word and digging into his reserves to have sex with her. But even his reserves were failing at this point. He barely had the strength to open his mouth.
Instead, he focused on the beverage before him. It smelled of chocolate and cinnamon.
“What’s this?”
“Hot chocolate. You seemed so tense the entire ride home, I thought you needed something soothing.” Her smile widened.
He tried to memorize it. She had a beautiful smile. He would miss it when she left him.
Her smile vanished. “Jackson.” She reached out and put her palms on his fingers. “Whatever it is you need to tell me, we’ll deal.”
“Maybe,” he mumbled.
“Sip your chocolate, take a deep breath, and tell me.” She withdrew her hands, picked up her mug, and took a drink.
He did the same, relishing the sweet warmth in his mouth. “Mmm. This is good. Did your mama make this for you when you were little?”
“Yes.”
He nodded, gathering his thoughts. Finally, he blew out his breath and said, “Okay. I’m ready.”
“Okay,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “Me, too.”
“So…my dad was in the trailer.”
Her head bobbed up and down. “I gathered that. How did it go?”
“I got some shit out of my system. Told him some stuff I always wanted to say to him, but my words fell on deaf ears. He didn’t seem affected. There was no remorse in his eyes—nothing.” He shook his head.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Jackson. That must have sucked.” Blaire’s eyes conveyed sympathy.
“Sort of. I don’t know what I was expecting. Well, first of all, I sure wasn’t expecting him to be sitting there. I completely forgot Jake told me he was staying with him. And all of Jake’s bullshit about how Dad was clean and sober and helping him be a better man was just that—bullshit. Dad was sitting there, drinking some cheap booze. He looked old, gaunt, tired, and washed up, just like Jake. Shit.” He ran a hand over his face. He suddenly felt like he could fall dead asleep in the yard.
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “Did you get any closure?”
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