Chapter 18
Sam
Johnny was reluctant to let me go to dinner at Jameson’s house, but I convinced him that I would be fine.
He told me he’d come to pick me up at nine and to call if anything happened.
I promised him I would. He also said he would cover for me if our dad asked where I was, although he probably wouldn’t be home until late, anyway.
Our father usually spends Friday nights in his favorite seat at Al’s bar.
The question of me and Jameson lingered between us, the answer practically implied, but when Johnny came out and asked if we were together, I didn’t deny it. He just told me to be careful, and I assured him that I would be.
When Jameson finally came back from picking something up, I watched as Johnny cornered him. His protectiveness is a lot sometimes, but I guess it’s nice to have someone who’s always looking out for me.
I honestly don’t know what I’d do without Johnny here to have my back.
The shop has been busy, and the day has gone by quickly. I haven’t had much time to think about what dinner tonight will be like. I’m definitely nervous to go, but it feels like it can’t be avoided. If I want to be with Jameson, which I do, I can’t let him think I’m scared of his life.
The door to the garage pushes open, and Billy waltzes through.
“So”—he grins—“you and Jameson, huh?”
I look behind Billy as Jameson comes in after him.
They must have had their talk.
“I’ve been telling him he likes you, but the idiot kept denying it like it wasn’t fucking obvious.”
My eyes flit over to Jameson, and I fight to hide a smile. “You guys been talking about me?”
Billy stops in front of the desk, leaning against it. “Oh, he’s liked you since—”
“Jameson!” a deep voice barks. “Let’s go.”
Billy’s expression goes flat as Levi walks through the side door and comes up behind Jameson.
His father looks around him at me, his voice taking on a sickly-sweet tone as he asks, “You ready to go, honey?”
It takes all I have not to say something I shouldn’t. I knew this dinner was going to be a test from the moment Jameson told me about it. His father is going to try to get a rise out of us. Yesterday can’t go unpunished, and this seems to be how he plans on delivering it.
I stand and grab my purse from where it’s sitting at my feet then round the desk. “Let me just go tell my brother I’m leaving.”
“No need,” Levi says. “I already told him.”
Hit number one: Reminding me that my brother works for him. That my family’s income relies on him.
I nod stiffly.
“Good,” he says then starts for the door.
Jameson and I tell Billy goodbye and follow Levi to the car.
“Sorry about …” Jameson slows. “You don’t have to come.”
I grab his hand. “I’m all right.”
“I don’t know what he’s—”
“Jameson,” I stop him. “I can handle it, really.”
He jerks his head into a nod, but he doesn’t look any less unsure.
Levi stops at the old classic black car I’ve come to recognize as his.
Jameson opens the passenger door and lowers the front seat, motioning for me to climb into the back.
He starts to follow in behind me when I hear Levi say over the roof of the car, “I’m not a goddamn taxi driver chauffeuring you around. Get up here.”
Jameson’s eyes briefly meet mine, an apology in them, before he rights the front seat. He sucks in a breath as he lowers himself into the car, trying to disguise the sound by clearing his throat.
Levi doesn’t miss anything, though, and says, “Give me a number.”
A number?
Jameson shifts in his seat. “Four.”
“The real number, boy.”
“Seven.”
“Do you want something?”
“No,” he answers. “I’m fine.”
His pain, I realize. He’s asking Jameson to rate his pain.
My stomach sinks at how he answered immediately, like he knew exactly what his father was asking.
Because this is common.
Because Jameson being in pain is common.
Levi takes him in, slowing at the bruising that colors his face, and shakes his head before starting up the car.
Anger courses through me at how wrong this is—at his father’s lack of sympathy. But what can I do to stop it? What can anyone do, really?
We pull out onto the main road, the car silent. I wait for the questions to start, but they don’t come. In fact, I’ve been waiting for Levi to ask me about the fight since we got to the shop this morning.
The silence pressurizes around us as we continue to drive, and I realize this is all part of his tactic. To put us on edge, to make us wonder why we’re here and what’s coming next.
Jameson finds my eyes in the rearview mirror, and I hold his stare.
The car pulls left off the main road, and we’re soon pulling into a driveway. I look up at the house, surprised by how well it’s taken care of. The lawn isn’t cluttered with old junk, and the grass looks freshly cut. Its white paint seems new, barely even chipping.
The seat in front of me drops forward, and I realize I’ve been staring. I slide toward the door and climb out of the seat, pulling my bag out behind me.
“Your house is nice,” I say quietly.
Jameson mutters a thanks, but the way he says it doesn’t sound happy. He leads me behind his father up to the front door.
Levi pushes it open and hollers, “Aubrey!” into the quiet house.
“In the kitchen,” a woman yells back.
Jameson takes my hand and positions himself in front of me as we move through the living room too quickly for me to take it in before we walk into the kitchen.
My eyes instantly land on his mother, and confusion sweeps through me. She has on skin-tight jeans, a little slinky black top, and stilettos. She’s cooking dinner in stilettos.
Levi walks over to her and slides his hand down her back, sweeping it over her ass. “Smells good,” he mutters.
She turns toward him, but her attention catches on Jameson. “Oh, your face!” she gasps, staring toward us. “Levi, his face.”
It occurs to me that this is the first time she’s seen Jameson since the fight.
She takes another step, her hand coming up to his cheek.
“I’m fine, Ma,” he pushes out.
Moving back his hair, her gaze goes to the cut over his eyebrow.
“Don’t coddle him,” Levi says curtly. “He’s fine.” Then he motions to me. “Plus, we have company, remember?”
She peers around Jameson, her focus shifting to me. “God, you’re gorgeous,” she breathes before turning to Levi. “You didn’t tell me she was gorgeous.”
Just like that, Jameson is forgotten. Levi told her that he was fine, so I guess that means he’s fine.
She moves around Jameson, assessing me. “I can see why my Jameson likes you.” She trails her eyes down my body, her lips pursing when she gets to my dirty Converse. “Although your clothes could—”
“Ma,” Jameson warns.
She moves her eyes back up my body until they meet mine. “A pretty girl like you would look so much better if—”
“Jesus, Ma,” Jameson groans. “Seriously, enough.”
“What?” she says, looking over at him. “I can take her shopping, get her fixed right up.” She turns to me. “Do you want me to take you shopping?”
“Oh, I, um—”
“I always wished I had a daughter,” she says more to herself before I can respond.
“Well, you’re stuck with me,” Jameson says.
“You want a drink?” he asks, glancing over at me.
“Sure,” I answer, grateful for any reason to end this conversation.
His mother turns back to the stove while Levi takes a seat at the table. Jameson opens the fridge and gently pulls me into his side.
“I’m so sorry she said that,” he whispers.
“It’s okay,” I tell him.
“No,” he grits out, “it isn’t.” He grabs a can of Coke from the fridge and hands it to me before completely closing the space between us. “Don’t let them get into your head.”
I look up, my eyes meeting his. “I won’t,” I murmur, hoping it’s the truth.