Disgrace

by Brittainy C. Cherry

  The car began to move, and I kept glancing back, watching him push the four-thousand-pound vehicle. He looked as dark and broody as one could with his black crew neck T-shirt, dark black jeans, and black Chucks. A baseball cap hid his hair, but the ends curled under the edges. His brows were knit tightly, and his face was so stone cold I was certain he didn’t have a clue what it meant to smile. His biceps sat on biceps as he pushed with all his might, taking me to the side of the road. The moment I made it there, I hopped out.

  I knew who he was—the whole town did—though, we’d never really interacted. He was Jackson Emery, the bad seed of Chester. Rumor had it he’d started the fires in the park during summer of 2013, and he had been the cause of more than a handful of divorces. He was known to sleep with his fair share of Chester women; there was no secret about that.

  Jackson Emery wore his trouble on his sleeve like it was his full-time job.

  “Thank you for that. You didn’t have to help me,” I told him, giving him a smile.

  He didn’t make eye contact at all, just grumbled. “Didn’t look like you were gonna help yourself. Maybe you shouldn’t drive a shit car. It’s obviously a death trap,” he replied dryly.

  No smile.

  No smirk.

  No sarcastic, funny undertones.

  “I beg your pardon?” I asked, somewhat shocked by his words.

  His facial expression remained unwelcoming, and his top lip twitched. Removing his hat from his head, he held it against his black shirt while one hand raked through his hair. With a lingering sound of detestation in his voice, he said, “You could’ve killed someone, driving like an idiot like that.”

  “I didn’t know it would break down,” I told him, feeling knots in my stomach.

  When his cold stare finally met mine, chills ran down my spine. His eyes were so intense, so dark they almost seemed hollow. At first, his gaze appeared confused by my entire existence, and then he looked intrigued, as if he recognized me from a dream within a dream. I knew it wasn’t the time to be deciphering the facial expressions of Jackson Emery, but in all honesty, I couldn’t help it. I’d encountered with many individuals throughout my lifetime, but I’d never seen one so hauntingly dark. His confusing look bewildered me. His intriguing look gave me anxiety.

  “You’re one of those Harris people?” he asked. It was weird being called a Harris after so many years of being a Braun.

  By the way he said my last name as if I were covered in Ebola, he obviously wasn’t my family’s biggest fan, so I wasn’t certain how to reply.

  “Yes.”

  He grimaced. “Didn’t know I was dealing with one of Chester’s royalty. I guess I shouldn’t be shocked by your stupidity then.”

  “That’s not very nice,” I said softly.

  “Yeah, well, I’m not a very nice guy.”

  “I know you, too,” I said, nodding his way. “You’re Mike Emery’s kid, Jackson.”

  He had to be at least five years younger than I was, but with the wrinkles around his frown and his five-o’clock shadow, he appeared older.

  “Trust me, sweetheart, just because you know my name doesn’t mean you know me.” He swiped his hand beneath his nose. “You don’t know anything about me.”

  I’d never been called sweetheart in such a demeaning tone.

  “You don’t know anything about me either, but it seems you have your own judgments on my family.”

  “With good reason.”

  “And what reason is that?”

  He blinked, and once again, the cold, isolated stare returned. He placed his cap back on his head before he parted his lips again. “Your car’s a piece of shit. You could’ve really hurt someone today.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “There’s no way a car in this bad of shape didn’t give you any signs.”

  Well…he wasn’t wrong about that.

  As he spoke, intense annoyance painted his words. “You knew it was pretty bad off. You made a choice, and it was stupid,” he replied. “Don’t worry, though, I’m sure your daddy will buy you a new one soon enough.”

  The nerve of this guy. He sure did live up to the fables I’d heard about him.

  “I bought this car on my own,” I said, somewhat annoyed. It had been the first grown-up purchase I’d ever made in my life, and she’d been through the good and bad days with me. My pink Rosie. It was one of the only things I could claim I’d done on my own, other than my teaching degree, though, even with that, my parents had helped pay. Jackson didn’t have a clue how much that car meant to me, how much doing something for myself meant, so screw him for judging me. “Just because my family has money doesn’t mean I do.”

  “That’s the type of shit rich kids say to make themselves feel somewhat human.”

  “Are you always such an asshole?” I asked, placing my hands on my hips.

  “Oh, the Bible girl cusses. You better repent,” he barked, popping open the hood of the car.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, but he ignored me as he began fumbling around.

  “What does it look like I’m doing? Trying to fix the shit you let break.” Smoke seeped from the engine, and he pulled and pushed things around as I studied his every movement.

  “Just be careful. I don’t want it worse off than—”

  He tilted his head and cocked an eyebrow. “Trust me, you can’t get worse off than this. I found the problem.”

  “What is it?”

  “Your car’s a piece of shit.”

  I blew out a hot breath. “Is that the technical term?”

  “Something like that.” He stood straight and wiped his grease-covered fingers on his jeans. “If you want my opinion?”

  “Is it a jerky opinion?”

  “Yup, it is.”

  “Go for it.”

  “Never step foot in that car again. There’s a ninety-five percent chance it will blow up. I’ll have my tow guy pull it into the shop.” He took out his phone and began sending off a text message. When he looked up at me, his eyes grew even gloomier. “Jesus, I didn’t mean to…” He paused and brushed his fingers over his temple, leaving black oil marks. “Come on. For fuck’s sake, don’t do that,” he groaned, gesturing toward me.

  “Do what?”

  “Cry.”

  “I’m not.”

  He cocked an eyebrow and stared at me as if I were insane.

  I lightly touched my cheeks and felt the wetness.

  Crap.

  I am crying.

  I choked on my next breath and began sobbing, covering my mouth with my hand.

  “Can you just…not do that right now? Can you not fall apart?” He asked it in a way that sounded more like a demand.

  “I-I’m t-t-trying not to,” I mumbled, unable to control myself. I hated this. I hated not having control over my emotions, over my feelings. Lately, the smallest thing could send me into a whirlwind of sadness, and I hated it. Losing my car—losing the one thing that was mine and mine alone—was breaking my heart.

  He sighed again. “You should really pull yourself together.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do,” I sobbed, annoyed by him being there and annoyed that I couldn’t stop crying.

  “You look like a hot mess.”

  “I’m not a hot mess!” I snapped. I just had hot-mess tendencies…

  He grimaced, something I assumed he did often. “Well you sure look the part.”

  “Can you just go away? Please?”

  “Not till Alex gets here to tow the car. It’s on the house.”

  “What?”

  “That means you don’t have to pay for it.”

  “I know what ‘on the house’ means.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have asked.”

  I was offended by him, and by his offer to help with my car. How could he be so rude to me and then try to be helpful? That wasn’t how things worked in the real world. Life wasn’t a Sour Patch Kids commercial—you couldn’t first be sour then shockingly sweet. �
��I don’t want your help.”

  “You sure needed it a minute ago.”

  “I didn’t ask you to help me.”

  “You didn’t refuse it, either.”

  I took a deep breath. What is wrong with this guy? It was as if he found pleasure in arguing with me. “Well, now I’m refusing it.”

  “Too late. He’s already on his way,” he said, nodding toward the tow truck that was headed in our direction.

  “I don’t want it!”

  “Fine. When he pulls up, you tell him that and make him realize you’re wasting his time.” He rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Your call, raccoon eyes.”

  “I don’t even know what that means!” I huffed back at him.

  He pointed at my eyes.

  Crap, again.

  My mascara was running.

  “Some guy hurt you?” he asked, a hard look on his face.

  “Yes.”

  His bottom lip twitched, and he stepped back. Right as I thought he would open up, just when I thought he would offer me some words of wisdom to make me feel better, he blurted out, “Don’t be so fucking dramatic. No dick is worth falling apart over.”

  Oh…well then. “That’s exactly what I didn’t need to hear.”

  “It’s true, though. You’re crying over someone who probably isn’t worth it.”

  “What makes you think he’s not worth it?”

  “Because. You’re. Fucking. Crying. People don’t sit there sobbing over someone who makes them happy.”

  A chill raced down my spine as he snapped at me.

  “Why do you have to be so dang straightforward?” I snapped back, my emotions jumbled up from his unnecessary harshness. “Why couldn’t you just say something nice and leave it at that? Or, you know, not say anything at all?”

  “People don’t need nice; they need the truth. I find it ridiculous that a guy has this kind of hold on you. Have some self-respect. It’s insane to give full control of your emotions to someone who doesn’t give a damn about you.”

  “He does care,” I argued, though I knew it was a lie, feeling as if I had to stand up for my hurts. If Jackson knew Finn hadn’t cared about me at all, it felt as if he’d won somehow. “You don’t understand. We have history. It’s not just some silly fling like what you have with all those random women.”

  He stood taller, his face tensing. “Oh yeah, that’s right, you know all about me, don’t you, princess?”

  The discomfort caused by my comment was apparent, and I instantly felt bad. “I didn’t mean to offend you…”

  “You can’t offend me because I don’t give a damn what you think, just like the dude who hurt you.”

  “You don’t have to be rude. I’m just saying, what Finn and I have…” I paused and took a deep breath. “What we had was real.”

  “Had. Past tense.”

  “That doesn’t change the fact that he’s the love of my life.”

  Jackson rolled his eyes so hard, I thought they’d get stuck in the back of his head. “That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard in my life. Yes, the love of your life would be the guy who made you cry without giving a fuck about your feelings.”

  “How do you know he doesn’t care about my feelings?”

  “Trust me, he doesn’t.”

  “What do you know? You probably don’t even know what love is.”

  He grumbled and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “You don’t got to know what love is to know what it isn’t. Go ahead, though, keep crying over a dick who’s not even thinking of you. Trust me, princess, no number of tears from you is ever going to make him love you, but, by all means, keep crying. Hell if I care.”

  He didn’t say another word. As the tow truck pulled up, I was one hundred percent ready to tell the driver I didn’t need his help, but when he stepped out of the vehicle, he gave me the kindest smile. He was a bigger guy, not chubby but built, and his body was covered in tattoos. He was older too, with his fair share of gray hairs. The way he smiled had a way of canceling out all the rudeness Jackson had shot my way.

  “What do we got here, Jack-Jack?” the guy asked, patting the top of my car. I glanced at the name sewn onto his work shirt: Alex.

  “A piece of crap. I was gonna have you tow it into the shop to take to the scrapyard later, but she said she doesn’t want your help. She just wanted to waste your time,” Jackson replied dryly, making Alex frown.

  “Oh…”

  “I didn’t say that!” I protested quickly, giving Jackson a narrow stare before turning toward Alex. “I’d love for you to help me out.”

  He grinned brightly as if all he knew how to do was smile. “It’s no problem. I’d love to help you out. Let me just hook it up. Do you want me to drop you off anywhere?”

  “No, really, it’s fine. I can walk. I just have to grab my luggage.” I walked to the back of the car and opened the trunk. Before I could grab the suitcases, Jackson was there with his mean look, lifting them up for me.

  “Stop that,” I barked, grabbing it from him.

  “Stop what?”

  “Being nice to me when you’re still an asshole.”

  “Man.” He whistled low. “You’ll have to ask your god for a lot of forgiveness with that potty mouth, princess.”

  “Don’t call me princess,” I snapped.

  “Okay, princess.”

  Oh my gosh, I hate him. Instant love isn’t actually a thing, but instant hate? So, so real.

  “You all good here, Alex? I’m gonna head to get food,” Jackson said.

  “Yup, all good, Jack-Jack,” Alex replied with that same Southern charm.

  “Alex?” Jackson’s brow knitted. “Stop calling me Jack-Jack.”

  “Okay, Jack-Jack,” he replied, giving me a wink.

  “Not so fun when it’s happening to you, now is it?” I remarked.

  Jackson just grumbled and walked away.

  As I watched him leave, another chill shot down my spine. “Is he always that nasty?” I asked Alex as he began hooking up my car.

  “Just maintaining his Chester persona, but don’t take it personally. Jackson’s all bark and no bite. He’s harmless.”

  “That’s not what I’ve heard.”

  “Yeah, well, people are always spreading some kind of gossip. I’m sure there have been rumors about your family, too, but I like to be my own judge of character.” He grinned and nodded toward my car. “We’re all hooked up here, so you’re free to go. I know Jackson said the car is fried, but if it’s okay with you, I’d love to get under the hood and play around.”

  “Oh, no, you really don’t have to. I know it’s an old car, it’s just…” I took a breath.

  I was so tired of losing things lately.

  “This thing means a lot to you, doesn’t it?” he asked.

  “Yes, it does.”

  “Then let me try.”

  I smiled. “I’d really appreciate that. Thank you.”

  “No problem. Cars are like puzzles for me—I love trying to figure out how to make the broken pieces fit together. Here, if you can just fill out this form, then I’ll be out of your hair. I’ll give you a call sometime next week to stop in for an update.”

  “Sounds good. Thank you so much. You have no clue how much this means to me.” I filled out the paperwork then thanked Alex one more time, before grabbing the handles of my bags and starting off down the road.

  I wasn’t certain if Alex knew it, but I was in desperate need of his kindness, especially after crashing into Jackson Emery and the rain cloud hanging over his head.

  5

  Grace

  “Grace, what’s going on? What are you doing here?” Autumn asked as I stood on her front porch with my suitcase. When life fell apart, I was always thankful that best friends existed.

  “Sorry I just stopped by without calling, but my phone died, my car died, and…” I paused briefly as my eyes watered over. “I think my marriage died, too!” I sobbed, covering my face with my hands. I shook my head bac
k and forth and took a breath, trying to pull myself together as best I could. Autumn’s eyes watered over, and she placed her hands against her chest. We were those kinds of friends—whenever one cried, the other’s tears weren’t that far behind.

  “Oh my gosh, Grace…” she whispered, her voice cracking.

  “I was just hoping I could stay here for a while,” I told her, walking into her place with my suitcase. “I would’ve asked you earlier, but for some reason, I thought Finn would come around and still want me.”

  I sat down on the couch and took in a few deep breaths as my head stayed lowered.

  My heart, my brain, and my body were all exhausted.

  It had been a long day.

  “I just…I wish you would’ve called,” Autumn said flatly.

  “Yeah, but I know how busy you’ve been,” I said, looking up toward her. Tears were still falling from her eyes, and the heaviness in her stare seemed almost as sad as I felt.

  “It’s okay, Autumn. I know I’m a bit of a mess, but I’m better now that I’m…” I glanced at her table, where one glass of water and one opened beer sat. Autumn didn’t drink beer. She always thought it tasted like garbage. “I’m sorry, do you have company?” My chest tightened. Then, I noted a small red thong under her chair. “Oh my gosh, are you on a date? I’m so sorry! I should’ve called.”

  “Grace…” she whispered.

  Her lips parted once more, but she couldn’t speak. Her body trembled, and no words were coming out of her mouth. I looked around her place and noticed a pair of tennis shoes…shoes I’d seen before. Then there was a shirt sitting on her chair.

  My eyes zoomed in on the yellow polo.

  I slowly stood and walked over to it.

  “Gracelyn,” Autumn whimpered, but now I knew the tears weren’t falling for me, but rather for her own emotions.

  I picked up the yellow polo, studying it. It had a rip under the arm and a nasty stain on the bottom that wouldn’t come out no matter how hard I tried.

  I looked up at my friend.

  My best friend.

  My person.

  My life.

  Fire burned in my stomach, and tears flowed from her eyes. She became overwhelmed with emotion and began sobbing uncontrollably.