Wrecked (Stories of Serendipity #8): #8 (10 page)

He was trying to go into this date with no expectations. She obviously regretted sleeping with him, but she’d held back in the greenhouse. She’d wanted to touch him, and he’d wanted her to. But it was her call. If she’d hugged him after he helped her up, he would have been helpless to hold back. His control was at a breaking point around her, and he’d never felt that way around any other woman before. He’d wanted to be kissing her instead of begging her to see him again. He’d wanted to be buried inside her instead of gallantly walking away.

To that end, he’d cleaned his apartment over the shop, hopeful that she would want to come back for coffee and maybe more, but he wouldn’t push. She was scared of something, and he had no idea what. He needed to find out.

He walked into his dad’s apartment, the anticipation of seeing Renae again putting a bounce in his step.

“Dad? Mark?” The living room was empty, but Mark was at the kitchen table, staring at the empty meals on wheels tray in front of him, vacantly. “Where’s Dad?” Mark looked up at him, a vague expression on his face that sent a pit tumbling into Jason’s belly.

“Bathtub, I think man.”

“You think?” His response puzzled Jason, but he turned and went into the bathroom to find his dad in a tub full of water. “Dad? Why aren’t you taking a shower with the seat they brought you?” Joe’s lips had a bluish tint to them, and his eyes were filled with fear that filled Jason’s stomach with acid. He was having a hard time shifting gears from the anticipation of a night with Renae to the horror in front of him. His hand dipped into the water to find it nearly ice cold. Heaving his dad from the water, he sat him on the toilet and wrapped every towel around him he could find.

“Th-that k-k-kid put me in h-h-here.” Joes’ teeth chattered helplessly while Jason tried to rub him dry. He realized he was spending a lot of time with his dad while the asshole who did this to him was sitting in the kitchen.

“Stay here, Dad. Try to dry yourself off.”

Stalking across the small apartment into the kitchen he grabbed the kid by his t-shirt and hauled him to his feet. “You son of a bitch.” Looking into his eyes, he saw they were glassy and the pupils dilated. “Are you high?” A goofy grin spread across his face, and Jason lost all semblance of control. Rage flowed through his veins and Jason punched him, letting out a primal roar. “That’s my dad, you asshole! I pay you to watch him! You. Are. A. Care. Taker.” With each word, Jason enunciated clearly, while landing punches on Mark’s face. He finished up with a left hook that sent Mark crashing against the wall behind him, knocking a hole in the sheet rock. The youth didn’t fight back, which in Jason’s head was an admission of guilt.

So he kept hitting him.

Jason picked him up and dragged him to the living room where he had more room to beat the living shit out of him. He continued pounding on Mark until his face was a bloody pulp, and he knew he wouldn’t be getting up anytime soon. Then he called an ambulance for his dad.

He was trying to put warm pajamas on Joe when sirens filled the air. Apparently, his call to emergency services, where he’d informed them his dad needed an ambulance as well as the guy he’d just beat up, had instigated a police visit.

Jason admitted to the police officers he’d been the one to beat up the caretaker, and one of them immediately read him his Miranda rights before cuffing him and leading him outside. The first ambulance was split between helping his dad and setting Mark up on a backboard with a spinal collar. Seeing them pay such careful to the man he’d just beat up sent a mixture of emotions through Jason: anger they were giving him attention when he’d mistreated Joe, and shame that he’d done that to him. It was a dichotomous mix, and Jason didn’t know what exactly to do with it, so he focused on righteous indignation.

“That asshole got high and left my dad in a bathtub of freezing water for God knows how long,” he gritted out through a clenched jaw.

“We’re calling another ambulance, son. You need to calm down.” As if he would patiently sit and watch them treat the man who’d harmed his dad. He swore under his breath before being pushed into the back of the police car.

Jason stared out the window in a fog as they car drove to the police station. His mind raced around, trying to remember all the times his dad had told him he was in danger from Mark. He’d chalked it up to dementia and now wondered how he could have been so blind. All the bruises he’d noticed lately, he had no idea how he could have been so stupid not to realize. Guilt filled him as he realized he’d nearly killed his dad by hiring a complete thug to take care of him.

Jason floated through the booking process, trying to figure out what went wrong. He was fingerprinted and photographed, his rights read to him again, all while his mind raced with thoughts of the guy’s references. How they’d all said he was an okay employee but lacked focus. He hadn’t really thought much of that, thinking how hard could it be to make sure his dad didn’t burn down his apartment? It had never occurred to him the guy would be malicious. Or high.

He stumbled into the jail cell after calling his brother and explaining what had happened. Jodie said he’d take care of it, that he probably would have done the same thing in his position, making him feel a little better. But he still couldn’t help feeling like the entire episode was his fault in the first place. Jodie didn’t verbally blame him, but he probably would have done more to find a better caretaker in the first place. Some nice little old lady who knitted and cooked and never would have actually put his dad in danger.

R
enae had been sitting at the cozy corner table, sipping on her water, for nearly an hour. When seating her, Jessie had left her with a suggestive wink, but her glances had become increasingly pitying. Renae had declined the offer of a glass of wine on the house, and finally at seven, Jessie had plopped herself down in the vacant chair.

“Okay, girls’ night out. Starting now. Connor’s given the okay, let’s go get shit-faced.”

“No. I think I’ll just go home. Shit-faced is what got me in this situation.” Jessie didn’t know she was pregnant, and Renae wasn’t volunteering the information. She had planned to tell Jason first, but he’d stood her up.

Not that she was surprised. It was probably just his way of getting back at her for not calling him back. It was all a ploy for revenge. She’d stomped on his manhood by not calling after the best night of sex she’d ever experienced, and now that she had the opportunity for real romance, he was stomping on her emotions. She’d never felt more like crying in her life.

It had to be the hormones. She’d been sniffing back tears since about 6:30 when it was becoming apparent he wasn’t going to show. Why she had stuck around, she wasn’t sure. Glutton for punishment? Reiterating her own stupidity?

Jessie grabbed her hand. “Come on. You already look great. We don’t have to get shit-faced, just a couple of drinks, then we’ll go home.” Tugging her up, Jessie looked at Renae appraisingly. “Your tits look amazing in that dress. I had no idea you had such great ta-tas.”

Renae laughed in spite of herself. She wasn’t about to admit her favorite perk of pregnancy. “I quit drinking after the last time I was at the Gin.” She tugged her hand free and bent to get her purse. She really just wanted to go to bed.

“Then have juice. A coke. Water. Whatever. You are not going home to feel sorry for yourself, not after venting about what shits men can be.” Jessie re-claimed her hand and tugged her out the door. “I’m following you. If you don’t go to the Gin, I’ll just follow you home with a bottle of tequila.”

She knew Jessie would do it too. Heaving a resigned sigh, she said, “Okay, fine. I’ll go. But no tequila.”

Jessie gave a squeal of triumph and followed her out to her car. True to her word, she followed Renae to the Gin. She must have already called people because Claire, Alyssa, Les, and another friend Kathy were all there, drinks in hand, waiting.

“I thought you said girls’ night. Why is Les here?” Jessie shrugged in response.

“I didn’t call him. He might have already been here.”

Everybody stood and hugged Renae and Jessie when they reached the table, and Les gave warrant to Jessie’s conclusion by grabbing Renae’s ass and slurring his word in her ear. “It’s so good to see you, ‘Nae.”

She sat down at the table loaded with beer bottles and shot glasses and ordered a water from the passing waitress.

“Oh come on, have a drink,” Alyssa prodded.

“Not tonight. I’m abstaining.”

“Apparently, she had too good of a time last time she let loose and is scared.” Jessie offered. Renae didn’t correct her, ignoring Alyssa’s pointed look. She seemed to be the only one there who questioned the explanation but didn’t ask any questions.

Renae sipped at her bottle of water, listening to everyone around her talk about their weekend. When they’d gone around the table, everyone’s eyes turned to her, waiting for her to spill why she was here.

“I got stood up tonight.” She started. “It was my own fault, I guess. I shouldn’t have expected anything after the way I treated him.”

Les was instantly alert. “Who?” He demanded, slamming down his bottle.

Claire’s eyes were wide. “Was it that guy from last time we were here? The sax player?”

Renae nodded. “Yeah. It was a mistake. I should have known better.”

Alyssa rested her hand on Renae’s thigh in an oddly comforting gesture while Jessie asked, “Did you sleep with him?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it, guys.”

“Yup. She slept with him.” Claire took a swig from her beer bottle after her lofty declaration. Les jumped up and ran out the door before anyone could stop him.

“Good. The testosterone is gone. Now we can have a true estrogen fest.” Alyssa sighed into her beer. “Men can be so stupid sometimes.”

“I’m lost. I thought you were going out with Mr. O’Niel’s son?” Jessie asked.

“He is Mr. O’Niel’s son.”

“The guy that runs the mailbox place? He’s such a nice little old man,” Alyssa mused. “Maybe something happened to him? Why do you think it was your fault?” She continued, ever the optimist.

Renae started at the beginning, telling about the wreck, then seeing him at the Gin, and glossing over the remarkable sex, ignoring the pregnancy issue altogether. She ended her story with hiding from him at Jessie’s house and agreeing to go out with him.

“And then he stood me up, probably because I snuck out and didn’t call him after that night.” The smoke hovering in the air was giving her a headache. “I don’t feel really well right now. I think I’m going home.” She needed to get out of here, and dwelling on everything wasn’t making her feel any better.

“No! Stay. What are you going to do when you get home? Wallow in self-pity? I don’t think so.” Claire offered.

“Then, can we at least sit outside? The smoke is giving me a headache.”

When they’d moved onto the deck outside, Kathy, who’d been mostly silent up until now, finally offered up her opinion. “I think he’s probably a good guy who just doesn’t have a clue. Men get these fucked-up ideas of what women want and what’s best for them, and have no idea how to go about making them happy. Usually, they do quite the opposite and think they’re doing the right thing, when in actuality, they’re hurting more than helping.” Renae remembered Kathy’s husband Luke’s first botched proposal attempt and smiled wanly.

“I don’t think that’s the case here.” Renae was struggling with her own emotions, knowing her friends were trying to make her feel better. “He seemed like a nice guy, and we did connect that first night, but there’s more to the story that I’m not getting into right now. It’s complicated.” She was pregnant, he was the father, and he didn’t want to have anything to do with her. She was alone again. “Can we not talk about it anymore? Please?”

Silence met her plea, and they turned to people-watching, making comments about the drunk college students and laughing at their vapid attempts to pick each other up until Renae pled exhaustion and a work day in the morning. She wasn’t lying. When she finally got home, she went straight to bed and slept fitfully, her mind racing with dreams of things that could never be.