Lifers (4 page)

“Well, did you ever go away to college?” she went on, overlooking my silence. “I went to Boston University,” she said, proudly, “and then I did law school for a couple of months. That sucked, so I did a certification class for paralegal studies instead. That was much better.” She frowned. “Well, until recently.”

I decided that if she really didn’t know, I’d better just tell her, like ripping off a Band-Aid.

“I got my GED in juvie.”

I cringed internally, waiting for the shutters to come down.

Instead she gave a small laugh. “Oh, are you a bad boy?”

I didn’t answer, not having a fucking clue what to say. I couldn’t even look at her.

Her voice was softer as she spoke again. “Oh, sorry. I can be really blunt sometimes. It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me. I take it you didn’t go to college after juvie then?”

I shook my head then risked a quick look at her. Her expression was kind but not pitying. It gave me a moment of hope. False hope, in all probability, but hope nonetheless.

“I guess you could say I graduated to prison after juvie. I got out a month ago.”

She was silent for a moment.

“This must be weird then. What was it like? When you got out?”

My eyes slid to hers. No one had asked me anything so direct.

“Why do you want to know that?”

She shrugged. “Just wondering. Must have been hell.”

I nodded. Yup, hell. That was one of the ways I could have described it.

“Did you know that your momma convinced my folks to take me back when I got out?”

I don’t know why I offered her that information. I just didn’t want her to stop talking—it had been so long.

She gave a wry smile. “No, I didn’t know, but it doesn’t surprise me. Dear ole Mom, always trying to fix other people’s problems.”

I was desperately trying to think of something else to say. “So, um, you just moved here?”

Great question, genius! There’s a freakin’ U-haul trailer still parked in the driveway.

“Yeah, just moved down from Boston. After I quit my job, I thought I’d try small town life for a while.”

I nodded, still having no clue what to say next.

“So, you’re back living with your parents,” she began again.

“And you.”

She pulled a face. “Yeah, it’s surreal.”

“I wish she hadn’t.”

“Wish who hadn’t what?”

“Your momma. I wish she hadn’t told my parents to take me back.”

“Why’s that?” she asked, staring straight at me.

I struggled with what to tell her. I mean, I didn’t know this woman, and certainly shouldn’t go around trusting her just because she was the preacher’s daughter. But it felt so good to shoot the shit with someone who wasn’t judging me by what I’d done, or what they’d heard. It was addicting, and I didn’t want it to stop.

“I just think it might have been easier to be a nobody in one of the halfway houses in the city. An ex-con like a thousand other guys. Here, everyone knows my story and has decided I’m trash.”

“Except me,” she said, still staring straight into my eyes.

It kind of hurt to have her look at me like that—like she was seeing into my soul, or some shit.

“Yeah, but that’s because you don’t know me.”

Her eyes didn’t flinch.

“You want me to leave you alone?”

The way she said it, I knew that if I said yes, she’d walk away and that would be that. Painful as it was to talk about everything, I didn’t want this to be the end of it.

“No, I don’t want you to leave me alone.”

Her lips turned upward with this amazing smile that made her eyes sparkle, and her nose did this cute little wrinkling thing. I was hooked—and in so much trouble.

“Good,” she said, simply.

We sat there in comfortable silence for several minutes. Well, I think she was comfortable—my dick was so hard, looking at those long legs of hers stretched out in front—comfortable was the last thing I was.

She seemed to be staring into the distance, but I guess she must have noticed my condition after all, because she said in a conversational tone, “If you want to use the bathroom to jack off, better do it now because I’m going to take a shower in a minute.”

I nearly swallowed my tongue, and I’m sure my jaw was pretty darn close to dropping on the floor.

“Excuse me?” I managed to cough out.

She turned an amused face toward me.

“You just look a little uncomfortable there, cowboy. I thought you might need some relief.”

“Jeez! Are you always this direct?”

She hitched her shoulder in a delicate shrug.

“Pretty much. Does it bother you?”

“Um…”

“Don’t worry. You don’t have to answer that. It bothers most people.”

She sighed and looked a little sad.

“No, I like it,” I said, surprised that I was trying to reassure her.

“Really?” she said, smiling again. “That would be cool since we’re going to be friends.”

“We are?”

“Sure, cowboy.”

“My name’s Jordan. Jordan Kane.”

I finally managed to stammer out my name. She studied my face and I felt my cheeks heat up. I hadn’t had a woman look at me like that in a long time. Finally, she held out her hand.

“Jordan Kane,” she said, thoughtfully. “Cute name for a cute guy.”

When I took her soft hand in mine I was in total shock, and her words weren’t doing anything to help distract the enormous fuckin’ log that had planted itself in my pants.

Suddenly, the screen door opened. Torrey let go of my hand as the Reverend came out. She didn’t look happy to see me talking to her daughter, and I wondered if she’d heard Torrey’s last comment.

“Um, I’d better get back to work,” I mumbled, hastily standing up.

“Sure thing, Jordan Kane,” Torrey called out. “Nice talking to you.”

I muttered something indistinct and hurried away, but not before I heard the Reverend say, “Don’t you think you should put some clothes on, rather than sitting around half dressed? Come on in, I need to talk to you about something.”

I saw the Rev throw a glance in my direction. I didn’t hear Torrey’s answer, but she followed her momma into the house. I could guess what they’d be talking about and I was certain that the preacher’s pretty daughter wouldn’t be talking to me again anytime soon.

That was okay. I didn’t deserve anything good to happen. Just talking to her like a normal person was the best conversation I’d had in eight years.

Torrey

“What’s up, Mom?”

“I really don’t think it’s appropriate for you to go around dressed—undressed—like that,” she said, firmly.

I couldn’t restrain an eye-roll.
Really? She’s trying to be a parent now that I’m 24?

“Well, first of all,
Mom
, I don’t ‘go around’ dressed like this. I sat on your back porch with a cup of coffee. It’s hardly like I was streaking down Main Street. And second, why don’t you tell me what’s really bothering you?”

She huffed and dodged the issue for a while. I stood there with my arms crossed, waiting.

“Well, fine, you should know the truth.”

“About?”

“Jordan Kane just got out of prison and…”

“I know. He told me.”

“He did?”

“Yeah.”

That seemed to take the wind out of her sails, and she slumped down onto the sofa.

“Did he tell you
why
he was in prison?”

“I think he would have gotten around to it, but we were interrupted,” I said, arching a brow.

“Come and sit down,” Mom said, patting her hand on the cushion next to her.

I took a seat in the easy chair opposite, hanging my legs over the arm.

“Go on then. Lay it on me.”

“It’s not something to joke about, Torrey.”

“Do you see me laughing?”

“No, well … the truth is Jordan Kane is a very troubled young man. Now, I’m doing my best to help him settle back into society but…”

“But what? Get to the point, Mom.”

She looked up at me sharply.

“But it won’t help him if you start talking flirty to him.”

I burst out laughing at that. “
Talking flirty
? Jeez. Did we just get beamed up by a spaceship and land in the 1950s? I made the guy a cup of coffee, and I kind of get the impression that I’m the only person that’s tried to have a conversation with him in a while.” My voice sobered. “He looked lonely. I made him coffee.”

Mom shook her head.

“I heard what you said to him—you told him you thought he was cute.”

“Mom, that’s not flirting. That’s a fact. That dude is smokin’ hot.”

She gasped, and I couldn’t help riding her ass just a little more.

“Saying that he’s cute is like saying that it’s dark at night.”

“I know you’re trying to aggravate me, Torrey, so I’ll let that pass. The
fact
is that he would have seen it as you flirting with him, no matter what you call it.”

“Fine. You busted me eye-fucking the hot handyman. So sue me.”

“I don’t want you talking like that, Torrey!”

“Oh, jeez, Mom! I didn’t hump him on the porch!”

“There’s no need to be so crude!”

I was getting seriously pissed now. Did this woman not know how hypocritical she was being?

“Oh, is that right? So, talking to the handyman, whom
you
employed, and giving him a damn coffee is suddenly a cardinal sin? Why don’t we talk about what’s really bothering you, instead of dancing around it like a couple of queens at an Abba convention?”

“I can’t talk to you when you’re like this,” she said, standing up suddenly.

“Yeah, well I guess we’ll never have a real conversation then, because this is who I am. And if you’d stuck around instead of leaving us when I was 13, you’d know that.”

“Torrey, I fully realize you’ve got a lot of unresolved issues about my calling…”

“Screw you, Mom! You don’t get to use that as a defense! Not everything comes back to you. You don’t know me, and you sure as hell don’t get to judge me.”

“Then stop judging
me
!” she yelled. “I’m doing the best I can here!”

I sat back, and we stared at each other for a long moment while she took several deep breaths.

“Jordan Kane isn’t someone you should be associating with.”

“Mom, come on!
Associating
? What does that mean? I shouldn’t talk to him? Shouldn’t make him a damn coffee? What?”

“I really think you could take my word for it that he’s not a suitable person.”

I couldn’t help sighing dramatically.

“So you’re not going to tell me what he was in prison for?”

Mom looked conflicted, but stayed resolutely silent.

“Fine, don’t tell me. I’ll ask him myself.”

“Torrey,” she said, grimacing, “can’t you just trust me when I say he has a history of violence? I’m just trying to protect my daughter.”

Whoa! I didn’t expect that
.

“After being placed in a juvenile detention facility for two years, he was transferred to an adult prison for an additional six. Surely that tells you something. You’re trained in the law—you know what that means. Now he’s served his sentence, I’m trying to help him every way I can, but he’s dangerous. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

I couldn’t do the math. The sweet, shy guy I’d met on two occasions just didn’t fit with the image of a violent criminal that Mom was painting. Something was off, but I had no clue what it was. I mean, I could see he was a big, strong guy with abs like a washboard, but he just didn’t seem the aggressive type. The only vibe I’d gotten from him was that he was lonely.

“And from what his parents have told me,” she continued, “Jordan’s
behavior
started a long time before that. It seems that Jordan was always the wild one, always in trouble: drinking, drugs, fighting, girls…”

Mom threw me a look. She was telegraphing a message, but all I could think was that Jordan sounded like an average 16-year-old.

“Yep, drink, drugs, fights, girls—got it. What else?”

Mom sighed and shook her head, irritated that I
wasn’t
getting it.

“His older brother, Michael, was completely different. A straight-A student and a hard worker, he stayed away from strong liquor and had a nice girlfriend whom he was planning on marrying. He was a good boy.”

“Yeah, and?”

Mom sighed and looked away.

“Michael … died and it destroyed the family. It was at that time that Jordan was … sent away.”

“Wow. That’s … awful! The poor parents.”

“Yes, I know. It’s a terrible story. I feel for Gloria and Paul, losing two children that way.”

“Wait, what? What do you mean ‘losing two children’? Jordan is still alive!”

Mom shook her head sadly. “They lost two children in a very real way. It’s a terrible thing. Michael died, and Jordan was in prison.”

“Yeah, sure, but he’s home now. He told me that you persuaded his parents to take him back.”

She looked puzzled.

“He told you that? You were only talking to him for five minutes!”

“Guess I have a friendly face,” I said, evenly.

“Well, it’s true. I did persuade his parents to take him back. They didn’t want to have anything to do with him, and they hadn’t seen him for seven years, so…”