Every day that he went into town he subconsciously looked for Jason. She told him that she didn’t want him to get involved, but he wasn’t going to let Jason get away with this. He knew she would let it fade into the background for fear of causing a bigger problem. But the thing about small problems, they always grow if you pretend they don’t exist.
Clay walked out of the bank after depositing checks for his father. On his way back to his truck, it was as if luck had been listening to him. He spotted Jason across the street, getting out of his car. It was lunchtime after all, and he knew Jason’s office was around town somewhere.
He kept his eyes on Jason, but looked both ways before crossing the street. Was he really about to confront him in public? Second thought it was probably best that it was public.
“Jason Matthews.” Clay barked with his deep voice.
Jason stopped walking, looking around for where his name came from.
“Behind you.” Clay said as he stopped a few feet away.
Jason’s face hardened, “Oh, it’s you.”
“Yes. It’s me.” Clay looked him up and down. He laughed to himself at the irony of the two of them. One dressed in a well fitted suit, the other in old jeans and a t-shirt. They couldn’t be more opposite if they tried.
“What do you want? There are enough people around, so if you’re planning on doing something stupid then I’d rethink it.”
Clay glared at him, “If you ever put your hands on Claire again, you won’t like the outcome.”
Jason’s face was surprised, but he quickly hardened, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Clay stepped closer, “Let me say this very slowly, so maybe you can keep up, I will find you if you lay another finger on her. Do you understand me?”
Jason looked back and forth between Clay’s eyes, and then let out a smug laugh, “Trust me I’m not afraid of you. When it comes to Claire I will do whatever I want, including fucking her.”
It made Clay feel good that he had a part of Claire that Jason never would, but a flash of Jason on top of Claire rushed through his mind, and he balled his fists. He wasn’t going to hit him, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to. “Stay away from her.” He said and turned to walk away.
“I’ll do a lot of things to Claire, but staying away from her isn’t one of them.”
Clay stopped, and stormed back toward Jason, “Touch her, and my fist will take that smug look off your pretty boy face.”
Jason laughed, “I don’t know what she sees in you. You’re just low life trash. Keep making threats and you’ll end up like your mother. Poof.” He made a disappearing motion with his hand. “Plus, you’ve caused a small scene.” Jason whispered. “Best not poke the bear, because my father will come after you.”
“That’s a good one. Hide behind your father you piece of shit.”
“Did you have fun cleaning up the library?” Jason smirked. “I heard it was quite the mess.”
“You did that?”
Jason shrugged, “Nope, but I know who did. How’d you think they got the key? My mother has keys to a lot of places in the city.”
“What is wrong with you?”
“Nothing. I just have a problem that I’m trying to make disappear. That problem is you.” Jason stepped closer to Clay. “You tell me to leave Claire alone, but I think it’s you who needs to back off. She’s mine, and will remain mine.”
“She’s not a piece of property.” Clay snapped.
“No, she’s not, but it doesn’t mean she doesn’t belong to me.”
“Remember, what I said. It will be my fist to your face, if you put a hand on her again.” Clay said one more time, and turned to start walking back to his truck.
“You’ll get what’s coming to you.” Jason called out. It was funny, because that’s exactly what Clay was thinking about him.
*
That night after work, Clay needed to blow off steam. His run-in with Jason had him worked up the rest of the afternoon. He wanted to see Claire, but he was seeing her tomorrow. So, he called Brett, who was more than happy to meet him at his house for a beer. It was dark out; they sat on his back porch overlooking the field while Clay grilled up burgers on his charcoal grill.
Brett leaned back, propping his feet up on the railing, “So, let me get this straight, you not only threatened Jason, he admitted to being involved in the destruction of the library?”
“That’s what he said.”
“You have got yourself into a shit storm.” Brett said, shaking his head.
Clay flipped a burger, “That little prick told me that I was going to end up like my mother and disappear.”
“Do you think he meant it?”
“What I think is that Jason is a miniature version of his father in a suit.”
“Shouldn’t that be reason enough to back off?”
Clay shot him a look, “Back off from Claire? Do you not listen to anything I say?”
“You slept with her didn’t you?”
“That’s irrelevant.”
Brett laughed, “You’re pretty worked up over just a girl.”
“Do you want a charcoal biscuit for dinner? Because that’s what you’ll get if you keep being an ass.” He put the burgers on a plate. “Claire isn’t just a girl.”
“You did sleep with her.” Brett was trying to hold back a smile. “You’ve never acted like this over a girl before.”
“It doesn’t matter if I slept with her,” Clay sat down next to him, placing a burger on a bun. “That sorry excuse should never have put his hands on her.”
Brett nodded, “I’ll agree a 100% on that. I still can’t believe he did that.”
“Do you hear that?” Clay said, sitting up straight. The sound of gravel moving was faint, but he could hear it.
“Hear what?” Brett set his burger down.
Clay stood, and looked through his back door to the front. It wasn’t a big house, so you could see through the front door from the back. He noticed two moving figures out front. “Shh.” Clay said to Brett. “Someone is out front.”
“Who is it?” Brett whispered, walking over to stand next to Clay.
“I can’t see.” He quietly opened his back door, and crouched as he walked across the room to the front door. He looked out and saw two of what looked like Jason’s friends. One had a knife in his hand. “They’re slashing my tires.”
Clay went to walk outside, but Brett caught his arm, “What are you going to do?”
Clay glanced at Brett, and then around the room, “Fucking stop them.” He picked up a bat that was resting by the front door. He never used it anymore, and it was covered in dust. He walked out the front door, with the bat resting on his shoulder, “Well, hello boys. What can I do for you tonight?” He swung the bat around casually.
Both men stopped, and looked at Clay like they were about to shit themselves. “Jason sends his regards.” One of them spouted off, stabbing one more tire.
“Come on.” The other one yelled, as they took off into the night.
Clay ran down the steps, stopping next to his truck, still clutching the bat tightly. He watched them run down his driveway. By the time he would have reached them they would have been in their car, speeding down the road. Clay looked down at his tires; from the looks of it, he would have had to chase them on foot.
“What the hell was that?” Brett asked, walking up next to him. “They got three of your tires. Jason sent his regards?”
“Apparently.”
“How are you not freaking out? I would have killed both of those guys.”
“What am I supposed to do?” Clay snapped. “Jason’s father has the cops wrapped around his finger. Local celebrity, remember?”
“Maybe next time don’t confront him in the middle of town. Actually just don’t confront him at all.”
“If he ever puts his hands on Claire again, I won’t be using words when I confront him.”
Brett threw his hands into the air, “And
then you’ll go to jail. Good thinking lover boy. She’ll love you from the other side of bars.”
“Would you let someone hurt Gloria?”
“Well, no, but this is different. He’s Jason Matthews.”
“And I’m Clay Williams. There is no difference.”
“You’re not invincible, Clay.”
“Yeah, but I have nothing to lose.” He said dryly, as he walked back up the steps.
Brett sighed, “They just slashed your tires.”
“I can buy new tires.”
“Listen to me dammit!” Brett yelled.
Clay stopped, surprised by Brett yelling. He turned to face him, “What?”
“You’re my best friend. You’ve been there for me since we were 16. Listen to me when I say I don’t want something bad happening to you, you stubborn piece of shit. Who will take care of your Pop?”
Clay walked down the steps, and placed his hand on Brett’s shoulder, “Nothing is going to happen to me. I will always take care of my pop.”
“And who's going to take care of you?”
“I’ll take care of myself.” He walked back up the steps.
Brett followed him, “She better be fucking worth it.”
“She is.”
Chapter Twenty One
Claire
Claire stood in front of the mirror in her room looking at her white dress that she had specifically bought for dinner at Clay’s father’s house. Her hair was styled in long cascading curls, and she applied simple makeup. She didn’t understand why she felt so nervous; she was good at first impressions. But something about it being Clay’s father made her feel nauseous.
She walked down stairs hoping to avoid her parents, but she never did. They were sitting in the front room, sipping on their Saturday cocktails.
“You’re dressed up.” Her mother pointed out. “Where are you off to?”
“Dinner with Jenny.” Clair lied. She was becoming wary of the amount of lies that she was telling to her parents. She wanted them to know the truth, but after last weekend she was afraid.
Her father looked her up and down, and grunted, taking another sip of his drink. He still was upset with her after their conversation about college. He also had distaste for Jenny, so it didn’t help that that is where he thought she was going.
“Have fun.” Claire’s mom smiled.
Claire waved, “Bye.”
*
When Claire pulled up to Clay’s father’s house, the sun had started to set. She ran her hands along her dress trying to make them stop sweating. She could hear them inside, as she knocked on the front door.
Clay opened the door, “Hi.” He gave her a warm smile, and kissed her lips. “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks.” She felt herself feeling flushed. Every time he touched her, she wanted more. She wanted his body against hers, repeating everything she felt the other night.
“Come in.” He held the door open. “My pop is in the kitchen.”
She walked in, looking around the house. The front door led into the living room; which had a simple brown sofa and chair that sat on top of a beige rug.
He held his hand out for her, “This way.” He led her into the kitchen where his father was making a salad. Two bottles of wine and three glasses sat off to the side; one was not filled.
“Claire, you know my father.” Clay said.
His father turned with the same warm smile that Clay had, “Hello, Dear. I’m so happy you came.”
“Thank you for having me.” She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear from nerves.
Clay walked over to the wine, “I didn’t know if you liked white or red, so I got both. We’re having pasta; I thought wine would be a good pairing.”
“White is fine.”
He poured her a glass, and handed it to her. She sipped, hoping her nerves would disappear. Clay and his father fell into a small conversation, until his father looked at her. “Will you accompany me in the living room? Clay is the cook of the family, so we have it easy tonight.”
“Sure.” She smiled, following his father. She shot Clay a look, which he laughed in return.
“Come sit.” His father walked over to the sofa, and sat down.
She sat down next to him, “Your house is lovely.”
His father looked around the room, “It’s simple, but full of memories.”
“Simple is perfect.”
“Let me show you some pictures while he’s not with us. He’ll throw a fit if I do it in front of him.” He got up off the sofa, and returned with a box of pictures.
He held up a picture of a little boy in a diaper with ears that stuck out in the cutest way. “He was about three here. He gave us all the trouble at that age; couldn’t keep him still if I tried.”
Claire smiled, “He’s adorable.”
He picked up another; it was Clay around ten maybe dressed up like a cowboy. “This was Halloween one year. He ate all the candy before bed, and woke up with the worst tummy ache. I thought we were going to have to take him to the hospital.”
Claire laughed. He went to put the picture back in the box, and a square picture stuck out. It was Clay and a brown haired woman. She had the same shade of hair as Clay. “What’s this from?” She picked it up.
Roy adjusted his glasses, and took the picture, “This is Clay and his mother.” He looked at it longingly; Claire’s heart sank when she realized. “I remember this year. He would have been 11 here. Christmas maybe? Clay is in his Sunday clothes.”
“Will you tell me about her?” She knew Clay wouldn’t, but Roy seemed to not be afraid of the topic, though she didn’t dare ask what happened to her.
Roy kept staring at the picture, “She was the prettiest girl in school, but we didn’t date until our twenties. Her name was Scarlette; I called her Lettie for short. Our first date was at the fair,” He looked at Claire over his glasses. “I tried to win her the biggest teddy bear that they had, but I just couldn’t hit those pesky bottles.” He laughed to himself, looking back at the picture. “We were together for eleven years. We got pregnant and married all in the same year. She’d be turning 50 this year.”
Claire stared at the picture trying to tattoo her face on my memory. He was 11 in this picture. His mother left when he was 11. It was the same year she disappeared. She looked so happy. It didn’t make sense.
“Dinner is...Pop, I told you to not show her these.” Clay walked over, and picked the box up, setting to the side. “Dinner is ready.”
His father put his hands on his knees to stand up, “Let’s eat then. It smells delicious.”
Clay held his hand out for me, “Ready?”
“Starving.” She smiled, taking his.
They walked into the kitchen; his father was getting plates down, while Clay stirred the pasta.
At that moment Claire did something that she wasn't sure if she would regret, “Where’s the bathroom? I want to wash my hands.”
Clay looked up from the pasta, “Through the living room, down the hall on the left.”
She smiled, and walked back into the living room. For a split second she almost decided against it, but she did it anyway. She walked over to the box of pictures, and plucked the one of Clay and his mom from the pile, quickly sliding it into her purse. She had no idea what she was going to do with it, but it was the only record she had seen of what his mother looked like.
When she got to the bathroom, she looked at herself in the mirror. She felt guilty for taking the picture, but was planning to return it eventually. Ever since Clay said that his mom might still be out there, she wanted to find her. How she was going to find her was beyond her knowledge, but now she at least knew what she looked like.
Claire lingered by the entrance to the kitchen. The table was set, and Clay was walking the bowl of pasta over to the table while he and his father talked. She felt a strong feeling of closeness watching the two of them. His father laughed at something he said. She wanted to be a part of this family. It wasn
’t anything like her family dinners; which consisted of worrying about what topic her parents were going to bring up, and if they were going to be disappointed with her.
“Here she is.” Roy said when he caught sight of her.
She walked towards the table, “Here I am.”
“I moved your wine to the table.” Clay said, as he pulled a chair out for her.
Roy handed her the bowl of salad, “Clay tells me you’re in law school.”
“I am. I just finished my first semester.”
“That must take a lot of work. Any ideas of what you want to specialize in?”
“Not at the moment, no.”
“Pop, can we talk about something else?” Clay chimed in. She looked over at him and smiled. He was being protective; after what she told him the other day of not wanting to be a lawyer anymore.
“Tell me more of what Clay was like when he was little.” She said to Roy. “Clay is so serious; I want to hear the funny stories.”
Clay laughed, “Do we really have to talk about that?”
“Yes, we do.” She took Clay’s hand. “And you’re going to like it.”
Roy’s eyes bounced between the two of them, “He was a serious kid. A people watcher is what we called him. He rarely cried, but he had the imagination of a story teller.”
“Ok, don’t make me sound weird.” Clay eyed his father.
Roy laughed, “He was always outside fighting dragons or whatever the enemy of choice that day was. He would stand on the ledge of the porch, and proclaim that he was going to save the world.”
She looked over at Clay who was glaring at his father, “So, you were going to take down the dragons?” She smirked.
“Hush. I don’t want to hear it.” Clay shoved a bite of pasta into his mouth.
“Oh no, I’m very intrigued by Sir. Clay, or were you a King? Did you have subjects?”
Under the Oak Tree Page 16
