22. Emerson #2
But all of that went up in the air when he threatened what was mine.
As I walked inside, my father was there waiting for me, sitting on a leather couch smoking a cigar with an empty glass in his hand. He was wearing an ill-fitting suit that looked like it needed to go to the dry cleaners. To his left was another man, a gun strapped to his belt.
Try as he might to present himself as well-connected and put-together, the little things were starting to show.
His greasy hair. His dirty suit. The sweat on his face. His disheveled hair and beard.
“A little extra extravagant, even for you,” I commented as I sat on the couch in front of him. It was old and smelled like smoke and something I guessed was probably booze or blood, maybe both.
“Lots of things have changed since I went to prison,” he said, giving me a smile that showed his once rotting teeth now covered with gold.
“I looked into that, actually.” I crossed my legs. “According to prison records, you're still there. No sign of a jailbreak, and yet no one there has seemed to realize that the person in your cell actually isn't you.”
He let out a laugh, those shiny teeth gleaming in the overhead lighting.
How he had become so rich and connected during his prison time was beyond me, but it wasn’t that surprising. No, my father wasn't just an annoying, violent drunk anymore, but he was still a slimy bastard who would take advantage of anyone and everyone around him.
“Is this your attempt at blackmailing me?”
“Not at all,” I replied, my eyes shooting to the man on his left, who shifted his hand a little bit too close to his gun for my liking. “Just an observation.”
He put out his cigar directly on the glass table between us.
“How's your little girlfriend? I heard you had a falling out and she's no longer at your apartment. You always ruined everything, so it’s par for the course for you.
I gritted my teeth, schooling my face, and forced myself to stay in my seat.
Fucking asshole. I imagined ramming my fist into his face and taking the gun from the man standing there and putting a bullet between his eyes.
“Be straight with me for once. Why do you give a fuck about her? And don't bullshit me and say it's because I care about her.”
Wow. I had said the words out loud for the first time. Not exactly an I love you, but he was not the person who should be hearing that from me anyway.
It was enough of a shock for him to look me straight in the eyes. Then he let out a huff, his lips pulling into a smile.
“You're right,” he said. “For once in your life, you're thinking with your head and not those silly little emotions of yours. Do you remember your last year of high school? All those visits from the protective services?”
I remembered it well, especially the last time CPS had been there. They’d come multiple times throughout the year, but just before I graduated, their last visit had been different.
The social worker had showed up at my house again, but she hadn’t been alone this time. Two police officers were with her, and while he had tried to talk his way out of it as usual, that time it didn’t work.
While they had him behind bars, they had interviewed not only me but also my teachers multiple times to gather evidence.
I just wanted to leave for college and forget that ever happened, leaving it all behind, but they wore me down, and I just told them everything. When all was said and done, I was already eighteen and didn't need him anyway.
“You’re getting back at me for putting you in jail, I knew that was coming. Can’t you just move on? It’s getting old.”
He shook his head.
“Do you know what really sealed the deal for them? It actually wasn’t you. I only figured it out a few years ago. A buddy of mine is close with the cops in that shithole of a town. Do you know what they said?”
I gave him a look to get to the point.
“There was a witness. A witness who saw me hitting you.”
There was no way. He was always very careful about the beatdowns. He would stick to hitting my body and not my face, except when he was really drunk, and then all bets were off. And it would happen at home. If that wasn’t possible, never in broad daylight where anyone could see.
“That’s not possible. There were no witnesses.”
He shook his finger at me, a slimy smile spreading across his face.
“That's where we were both wrong. You know who it was, but I'll give you one guess. A little rat who couldn't keep her nose out of things.”
Alarm bells went off in my head. My nails dug into my thighs. No. Not possible.
I didn't want to even think about what he was suggesting. Could it have been … Pearl?
I closed my eyes, trying to fight off the panic, but it only made it worse. When I opened them again and met his gaze, it gave me all the answers I needed.
“That's right. Your little bitch was the one who put me away.”
“Don't call her that,” I snapped at him, unable to help myself.
He raised a brow at me. “You're not in a position to make demands.”
“I was the one who told the whole story to the cops. Who confirmed every allegation against you. Without me—”
“If I hadn’t taken a plea deal, she was going to testify. For you.”
My heart stopped in my chest. Pearl would've done that… for me?
I didn't know whether to be angry that she put herself in danger or grateful that she cared enough about me to do it.
“How could she have seen—”
“Turns out, she had a crush on you—so cute, isn’t it?—and followed you sometimes or some shit. On more than one occasion, apparently, which is why her testimony would've been so impactful.”
Lead filled my stomach. The whole picture was coming together now. And Pearl was in more danger than I thought.
I stood quickly.
“I came to warn you,” I said, trying to push all emotions down.
It was easy. I'd been doing it my entire life.
The only one I was having trouble with was anger.
All I cared about was what he was planning on doing to Pearl.
“If you keep down this path, I have contacts who will notify law enforcement that you've escaped.
It doesn't matter if you kill me right where I'm standing, they have instructions to do it if either of us is taken or injured.”
He sat back leisurely, not looking scared at all. In fact, he looked pleased with this outcome.
“That’s interesting, but I don’t think you have all the information.” He looked at his watch, a nice, new, and shiny Rolex. “It should be about time. Why don't we take you to see your little lady, hm?”
Panic and fear swirled in my stomach so violently I almost kneeled over. But I used it as the push I needed. I lunged forward, my hands grabbing his shirt.
“What the fuck did you do to her?”
He waved off the guy to his left as he moved, like he didn’t have a care in the world.
“Me?” he asked with a laugh. “Nothing. I'm here with you. But I did run into someone very interesting during my time in prison. Did you know that prisons get overcrowded easily and lots of prisoners get transferred miles away?”
“Get to the fucking point,” I spat at him.
“I got her stalker transferred to our prison and then released him,” he said with a toothy grin. How did I miss this? How did Jax miss this? Fuck! “When she left you, like I knew she would, I even gave him her new address. Now… Let’s see who's faster, hm?”
I reared my fist, but just as it was about to connect with his face, pain exploded from the back of my head, and my world went black.