“She was afraid I’d take you away from her, I think. I don’t know. Our getting together was nothing but a chance encounter gone completely out of control. When she told me she was pregnant with you, I tried to do the right thing and marry her. I looked forward to being a father.” He pauses and takes a deep breath, his shoulders slumping against the wall he’s still leaning against. “Within days of moving in with her, I knew we’d made a bad decision. We didn’t get along. We fought all the time. She hated me, resented that I’d impregnated her and took away her freedom.”
There’s that damn word again. Freedom. Jen constantly struggles for it and I constantly try to hold her down. Maybe I’m more like my father than I know.
“I always thought it was you who wanted to stay away,” I say, my voice surprisingly calm. Though my head is spinning with everything I’ve discovered. “Mom said you hated Shingletown and that you were desperate to get away.”
He laughs, but there’s not much humor in the sound. “Your mom is right. I hated that stupid little mountain town. There was nothing to do, no good jobs. I was struggling. My father had cut me off, was dying and I had no idea. Twenty-eight years old and I should’ve had my head on straight, you know? I should’ve had it all figured out by then. But I was nothing but a big kid who wanted to party. I had no real responsibilities. Until you came along.”
I had no freaking idea he felt this way. That he suffered with all of this. Of course, he’s never really explained himself to me, while my mother would bad-mouth him every chance she got. Still does. I could call her at this very minute and she would call Conrad Wilder the scum of the earth and whatever other horrible name she could come up with.
“So why didn’t you two divorce?” That’s the one thing that’s tripped me up my entire life. If they hated each other so much and couldn’t live together, why not get a divorce and be done with it?
“It sounds stupid, but I don’t want her out of my life. Crazy, right? Maybe we’re just lazy. I don’t know.” He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself. “We’ve always stayed in contact, your mom and I.”
I’m stunned. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah.” His chuckle deepens. “We fight most of the time when we talk, so . . .”
Okay, now I’m completely freaked out. “But . . . I thought you hated each other.”
“We do. We don’t. I don’t know. Don’t question it, son. Even I don’t get it.” Pushing away from the wall with a heavy sigh, he goes to a chair and plops down in it. “We may drive each other crazy, but we’ve always had a connection.”
I don’t even want to know about this connection. “Have you two seen each other since you . . . first left?”
He smiles ruefully. “We have. Never for long, though—we can’t be in the same room for more than a day or two before we start arguing.”
Sounds familiar. Though Jen and I argue more because we fight our feelings for each other.
I want more with her, but I need to hear the whole truth from her lips. Maybe what the bartender at Gold Diggers told my dad is a lie. I hope it is.
But if it’s not . . . then I can deal. I have to deal. She’s the only woman I want in my life.
I love her.
Jen
I find a taxi parked a few blocks down from The District and hop in the backseat, rattling off Colin’s address and demanding the driver take me there.
“I’m off duty, girlie,” he grumbles, starting up the car anyway and shifting into park. “I’m taking a break.”
“Please,” I say, not about to make a promise of a big tip. He’ll probably think I mean something sexual, and that’s the last thing I want to deal with.
“Fine.” He pulls out onto the street, turning up the radio, and I’m thankful for the sound of the mindless popular song filling the interior of the cab.
The song doesn’t chase away my depressing thoughts, though. I should be relieved Colin confronted me, not that I really told him anything. I need to get out of here quick.
And I need to make sure he never, ever finds out everything. I don’t like to think about it. It’s scary to face what you might do when you’re desperate enough. I hate that I let myself become so weak. But I’d been trying my best to earn back all the money I lost. Dancing every night, working for hours in the exclusive lap dance room, touching those men in the most intimate of places in the hopes they would give me extra-big tips, which they did . . .
When the first one propositioned me, I turned him down. I turned plenty of them down. But after everything was stolen and I needed money quick, I finally, reluctantly, agreed one night. At least that guy was handsome. Probably in his early thirties and lonely after a bitter divorce, he told me all about his problems when we met after I got off work. He was nice and kind and gentle, and so very, very nervous. He’d asked for sex at first, but I told him I would only give him oral, so . . . I did.
And felt like the lowest of the low when he pressed the hundred-dollar bill in my palm after I finished. What had I done? What had I become?
A prostitute. A common whore.
I couldn’t go back home. Couldn’t face my parents after everything I’d done. I was ashamed. Disgusted with myself because I didn’t stop after that first time. I did it again. And again.
“Here we are, girlie,” the taxi driver says. Interrupting my depressing thoughts, thank God. I didn’t want to go there and ended up doing it anyway. “That’ll be twenty-two dollars.”
I dig through my purse and hand him a twenty and a five as I exit the car, slamming the door behind me. He takes off with a roar, leaving me alone on the sidewalk, the night seeming to close in on me. It’s cool, the sky is dark and moonless, and the street is quiet. Past ten o’clock, and pretty much everyone has gone to bed since it’s mostly families who live on this street.
Colin and I are the exception. We’re definitely not family. Not even close.
Starting up the front walk, I pull out my key and unlock the door. As soon as I enter the house, car lights from outside illuminate the still dark interior and I hear the garage door start to open. My stomach drops into my toes and my mouth goes dry.
Colin’s home.
Swallowing hard, I try to fight off the wave of nausea that threatens and head to the kitchen, where I pour myself a glass of water. I chug it down, wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, and brace myself against the kitchen counter as I wait for him to enter the house.
Better to face him head on than run off and hide in my room. Not that I’m staying long anyway. He’ll no doubt kick me out and I’ll end up going to Sacramento early. I bet Jason would help me out if I asked him. Maybe I could break down and spend the money to rent a moving truck. I’ll call my new roommate first thing tomorrow and see if I can move in a few days sooner. I have a feeling she won’t mind. This way I can get settled and find a job right away.
Hopefully.
Finally, Colin enters the house, stopping short when he sees me leaning against the kitchen counter. “How did you get here?”
No hi, I was worried, just a how did you get here, like he doesn’t want me in his house any longer. Oh, how quickly our attitudes change! “I took a taxi.”
“A taxi?” he asks incredulously. “How did you find a taxi downtown?” They’re usually pretty scarce, so I understand his questioning.
“I don’t know.” I shrug. Why are we even having this inane conversation? “He was a few blocks down from the restaurant and off duty. I climbed into his car anyway and asked him to drive me here, so he did.”
“Jesus.” He runs a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “I swear to God, your risky behavior is going to get you into serious trouble someday. He could’ve hurt you.”
“I’m a big girl. Besides, didn’t I get my quota in this week already when it comes to being attacked by creepy strangers?” I sound like a smug little bitch but I can’t help myself. When I feel cornered, I get defensive.
He stares at me as if I’ve grown two heads. “We need to talk,” he says slowly.
“What about?” I lift my chin, going for defiance, but my entire body begins to tremble. I’m this close to falling completely apart.
“About what you did when you worked at Gold Diggers.” He flicks his head toward the direction of the living room. “Let’s go sit down.”
I brace my hands against the edge of the countertop, icy dread slithering down my spine. How did he find out? I know he knows, and I can hardly stand it. “I don’t want to. Let’s talk here.”
“Fine. Whatever.” Resting his hands on his hips, he glances around the darkened kitchen. The only light on is the one over the sink. He’s frustrated, I can tell. I know him almost as well as I know myself, though I would never have figured he’d react to my secret like this.
Maybe I was foolish to believe he would be more understanding. Maybe it has something to do with the way he found out and not the actual information itself. I should have been the one who told him and I didn’t. Someone else beat me to the punch.
I’m at a loss, though, unsure how to explain myself.
“I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m sure you don’t want to hear all the dirty details.” A shudder moves through me, and his eyes narrow. “Not that there are many dirty details . . .” My voice trails off. I’m trying to defuse the situation and not doing a very good job of it.
“Did you sleep with men for money?” He asks the question so quietly, so suddenly, I need to grip the counter tighter for fear I’ll slither to the floor. My knees are reduced to jelly by his words, by the look on his face. I wish I could just disappear and forget all of this ever happened.
“What are you talking about?” I whisper, trying to stall. Desperate to stall. I can’t lie to him. I have to tell him the truth or I’d never forgive myself. He wouldn’t believe me if I denied it anyway. He’s already made his assumptions and I’m living up to them.
“Answer me.” He raises his voice, the sound sending goose bumps scattering over my arms, and I part my lips. No sound comes out.
I can’t deny it because it’s true.
“Did you?” he asks again, his voice rough, his eyes full of agony as he storms toward me. He grabs me by my upper arms, his hold firm as he gives me a little shake. “Tell me, God damn it! Did you, Jen?”
I jump when he yells at me, wincing at the fury behind his words. Tears fill my eyes, momentarily blinding me, and then they’re flowing down my cheeks, dropping from my face onto the floor. “Yes,” I sob, my chest threatening to burst. “I did, okay? Is that what you want to hear? That I f**ked around with other men and they paid me?”
His eyes go wide and I swear they shimmer with tears. Actual freaking tears, and I’ve never seen this man cry beyond the dry sobs in his dreams.
But are those tears for me? Or for the fact that he failed me and broke his promise to my brother? To my family? “God Jen, I can’t believe . . . why? Why the hell would you do that? What would your parents think? Or Danny?”
Tearing myself out of his hold, I back away from him, shaking my head. “Don’t put all that guilt on me. I do that well enough on my own, trust me.”
“You know you could’ve called them. They would’ve helped you. You’re their daughter.” He stresses the last word, and that only pisses me off further.
“Give me a break! They forgot all about me once Danny died. So wrapped up in their grief, he was all they could talk about. You’re the same way, with your nightmares about him. He’s always hovering in everyone’s mind, and I get it. He’s in mine, too. But he’s gone. We have to keep on living,” I cry, wondering how my speech changed track.
“So by living, does that mean you go out doing whatever the hell you want and getting paid for it?”
His words are like a slap in the face. I rear back, my cheeks stinging with embarrassment. He immediately realizes his mistake and starts toward me, but I shake my head, my body vibrating with anger.
“Jen, I’m sorry,” he starts to say, but I hold up my hand, silencing him.
“Save it. You’ll never understand. No one would. I shouldn’t have to defend myself. I was all alone and no one could’ve saved me. I had nothing.” I start to leave the kitchen, ready to make my escape into my bedroom where I can have a good cry. And after I cry, I’ll start to pack.
No way can I stay here beyond one more night. This arrangement is over.
“You always had me. Always. I saved you,” he reminds me as I exit the room. Pausing, I keep my back to him, waiting for him to say more, which he does. “And I would’ve come in and saved you sooner if you’d called me. I’d do anything for you, Jen. Remember?”
“Can you forget what I’ve done?” I slowly turn to face him, scared of what I might find. But I’m facing a blank, expressionless mask.
He blinks once. Twice. The only physical reaction I can see. “I don’t know,” he says truthfully.
Whoever said the truth hurts was dead on. But it’s beyond hurting. It’s like a million knives carving into my chest, tearing my heart completely apart.
I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to put it back together.
Chapter 21
Colin
It feels like I’m being taken to the gallows, ready to meet my maker. I’m facing him now, my head bent, my body shaking. He towers over me on a pedestal, his face in shadows.