Chapter 27 – Stevie
I nodded, my chin quivering under his touch.
"Twenty years ago, when my dad passed away, our family struggled. My mom was a kindergarten teacher and, though her pay wasn't great, it was enough to keep the mortgage paid and the utilities on. I was only eleven when he died, but I remember it all better than Jovie does. Mom went on food stamps and WIC, and we often relied on the food bank and shelters for meals." I swallowed, bracing myself to continue with the rest of my shame-filled story.
“One summer day, Jovie and I were running through the streets of Houston like we always did when my mom was at work running summer camps. We were hungry and hot, and I saw some ice cream at a shop that I wanted but couldn't afford. I convinced Jovie to come with me to steal it. It started out small, stealing ice cream, candy, things that I didn’t think anyone would notice was missing but eventually, we upgraded. This went on for five years until I turned 16 and got greedier.
“I’d hit puberty that summer and none of my clothing fit me anymore. My mom wouldn’t take me shopping because she couldn’t afford to, but my clothing was two sizes too small, and I was starting to get picked on at school. Jovie told me it wasn’t a good idea, but I did it anyways, and started stealing from a few of the big department stores downtown. Clothing, shoes you name it, I was stealing it and truly, without remorse. I thought because we were hitting the bigger stores, no one would notice, and that was true for a little while.” I swallowed again.
“When school restarted in the fall, a boy from my class named Charles cornered me one day in an empty classroom. I didn’t know him well; he was a grade above me, but he told me he knew what me and my sister were doing. I played dumb, obviously, until he told me his dad owned the big box store chain we’d been stealing from, and he got Jovie on camera shoving bras and underwear down her shirt just last week.”
My eyes welled with tears as my gaze shifted downward, “I was so scared. He threatened to tell my mom, his dad, and the police. My mom would have been mortified but worse than that, she couldn’t have afforded any sort of legal representation and Jovie could have been sent to juvenile detention. That’s when he offered an alternative for his silence...”
Wylie's eyes narrowed, his lips forming a thin line as he stared at me. I could see the realization dawning in his eyes, and though I dreaded saying it out loud, I knew he needed to hear it.
"What did he tell you to do, Stevie?" he asked quietly.
I took a shaky breath, “His operation was small. He said he had a dealer in the city that he was getting the drugs from, and he needed some pretty faces to push it at the high school. I felt like I didn’t have a choice in the matter, so I did it. I hated it. I did that through the rest of my high school years anytime he’d call me. Things snowballed from there and turned sexual between us. Once he graduated from high school and went away for school, I didn't see him for a while and thought I was finally free. I went to college and felt like I'd escaped his control. When I graduated, I got a job and accidentally ran into him and his new girlfriend, one of my best friends from high school, at a restaurant in Houston. I managed to avoid him for close to eight years until he showed back up one day at my apartment. I let him in, and he raped me.”
I took another shaky breath, watching as Wylie's jaw clenched even tighter. The only person I had ever confided in about this was my therapist, and it had taken two years of sessions to finally mention the rape. My eyes remained fixed on the ground as I began to speak.
“I told his fiancé, my best friend, and she responded by accusing me of lying and being jealous. It fucked me up good. I thought I could report it, but his family is in Texas politics and friends with the entire police force. No one would have believed me or done anything about it because their intentions are always to protect their own. Now he only comes around on holidays and when he does, it easier for me to have sex with him then ignore or fight him because I know he’ll stalk me to get what he wants, and then it won’t be on my terms.”
I stole a glance at Wylie through my tear-stained eyes as he brought his hand to my jawline again, cupping my cheek gently. “Is this the same guy who was in your apartment when I showed up after Thanksgiving?”
I nodded as his hand dropped from my cheek to his own jaw where he rubbed, deep in thought.
“I did what I had to do to keep my sister from getting in trouble and sent away when we were teens. The amount she stole was over the limit for a felony and even as a first offense, he said he had months' worth of footage of Jovie and I stealing. With his parents' connections and my mom's limited financial resources, we would have been screwed.”
Wylie kept stroking the stubble on his jawline repeatedly, his demeanor eerily calm. I knew him well enough to recognize that this composed exterior masked a lethal blend of intelligence and controlled anger. When Wylie Cameron's mind and fury worked in tandem, he could be truly dangerous.
He stepped towards me again, so close that our chests were brushing, “He extorted you into pushing drugs and having sex with him for years. He took advantage of you, your innocence and your loyalty to your sister and his family's power. You sleep with him because it helps you feel in control.”
My eyes dropped to his fists, which were clenching and unclenching as his jaw tightened with anger. I had seen Wylie angry plenty of times, but never like this. He looked like he was about to explode, and his statements weren't questions for me.
I took a deep breath, knowing it was finally time to come clean about why I'd agreed to the marriage.
"The marriage was the only way I could think of to get him to back off. He was never going to stop harassing me. He would never leave me alone unless he thought I was unavailable and that my husband would protect me or expose him to his wife. I needed it to look legitimate to everyone, which is why I had a photographer and made sure you blasted the news in every outlet possible. I needed him to believe it was real."
“Stevie,” his green eyes a mossy swamp full of anger, “This doesn’t just look legitimate, it is legitimate.”
“You know what I mean,” I whispered.
“No, Stevie, I don’t know what you mean. We’re married, we have the paperwork and the relationship to prove it.”
“And that’s all this is, right?” I gritted out. “We married loudly, and then we’ll divorce quietly. He’ll never know we are no longer together.”
He sighed and took a step back, the heat leaving his eyes momentarily. “You think being married was going to change that for him? He doesn’t respect his own marriage and he sure as shit doesn’t respect yours or he wouldn’t have come here and jammed his tongue down your throat. If I hadn’t come in...” He clenched his fists again, that fire returning to his eyes.
“Do you think I wanted it to be this way?” I shouted, waving my arms dramatically. "If there’s a chance that his wife might believe you, he’ll stay away. He can’t bear to ruin his squeaky good-boy reputation and the chance of him running for governor someday.”
“That motherfucker better stay away...” He growled.
And like everything in life with Wylie Cameron, when pushed too hard, he snapped.
Before I could register what was happening, Wylie rushed to the freezer and flung open the door. Charles, seated on the floor inside, sprang to his feet with his fists up, but Wylie was undeterred. Without a thought for his own safety, he reached in, pulled Charles out, and tossed him to the ground like a rag doll. Climbing on top of him, Wylie began pummeling Charles mercilessly. Blood, snot, and mucus splattered across the floor as Charles tried in vain to defend himself. Wylie’s face remained eerily calm and devoid of remorse as he delivered one lethal blow after another to Charles's face and head.
“Stop it Wylie!” I screamed out, crying now, “Stop, Wylie!”
But he didn’t hear me nor care, he was zoned in on his mission and undeterred even as Charles screamed and attempted to weakly fight back.
The next thing I knew, bodies were rushing through the front door as Nash and Clay peeled Wylie off Charles and pinned him against the back of the bar leading to the kitchen. Charles was in bad shape, his face bloody and swollen as he stumbled to his feet, crawling to get away.
“You’re a fucking dead, man!” he shouted at Wylie.
Nash stepped towards Charles as Clay continued to restrain their brother.
"I know I just got here, but we have cameras everywhere. If I check the footage, am I going to see something incriminating that could ruin your reputation?" Nash asked in a steady, cool voice.
His eyes widened in horror as he realized there was footage of him forcing himself on me. He stood shakily to his feet, attempting to maintain his composure. I couldn't help but laugh at his futile attempt as he spat on the ground near Nash’s boots, pretending he had a say or a chance at survival if the Cameron brothers decided to act on Wylie’s threat.
“She wanted it,” he growled.
“You pig!” I screamed as Charles backed up towards the door, but it was Wylie who spoke next to defend me, his voice calmer as Clay released his arms. He walked towards Charles who tried not to show his shaking body as he struggled to stand in the doorway.
“If I ever see your face again, I won’t just tell your wife that you're a lying, cheating piece of shit. I’ll tell your family. I’ll tell the news. I’ll tell everyone not only in the whole state of Texas, but the whole fucking world what a low life, piece of shit, dirty politician you are, and I won’t stop at that. I promise you, I'll destroy your career, your family, the pride you cling to so closely and any chance of ever working anywhere in Texas again. I’ll ruin you and then when I’m done, you’ll beg me to end your life and I will, gladly. I may look like a simple, hotheaded cowboy from south Texas, but I have blood running through my veins of generations of men who fought for their families, and I intend on doing exactly that for my wife. Now I’m not going to kill you today and make it look like an accident since my wife asked me nicely not to, but I can promise you, come back here again, and I will. ”
With that, Charles spun on his heel and took off for his truck parked outside.