36. I Love It When It Rains #3
“Tell you what? That every popular guy in the school would be targeting you the entire summer because they thought you could make them money in an ‘ugly’ contest? You’ve never had an ugly day in your life, but things like that fuck with people’s heads. How could it not?”
Unfortunately, he isn’t wrong. Between the shit Blythe always said to me and then those assholes…
Jase doesn’t miss the look on my face. “I didn’t have the heart to tell you, and I never intended to actually participate in the Dogfight.
I just figured if I called dibs on you, Sienna would be satisfied for the time being, and it would make the other guys back off.
She was bound to find a new arch-nemesis by the end of the summer; she’d forget all about you, and she’d be aiming her fury at her next target.
There isn’t a time I ever kissed you that I didn’t mean it. ”
I should be relieved, not just by his words but by the evidence in my hand. It confirms that tiny shred of hope I had given up years ago. He really had cared.
But that’s precisely the part that’s making me sick. Because Jase had confronted the Untouchables, knowing damn well what would happen.
Seventy-two hours later, it was all over the news about his father’s campaign violations. The Rivers’ assets were frozen, and Jase and his mom were left with no choice but to flee to California after his father’s arrest.
“Everything that happened with your dad was because—”
“It was because arrogant men believed that they were above the law. You had nothing to do with it.”
“Neither did your dad.”
I expect Jase to be surprised or maybe confused. Of all things, he just looks curious. “What makes you say that?”
“Roland Easton told me as much. He and his buddies apparently frame the politicians unwilling to play ball with them.”
“I know.”
“You…what?”
“There was a suspicious death of a minor over in Peterson County six years ago. Despite a grand jury voting to indict the prime suspect, the district attorney refused to sign off on the charges. Roland Easton helped get the D.A. elected, which isn’t too odd since he’s behind half of the politicians in the state getting into office, but it’s his connection with the prime suspect that raised questions.
As it turned out, Roland and the suspect used to be college roommates and fraternity brothers.
The victim’s family did everything they could to get justice, but it didn’t matter what evidence the police presented to the district attorney.
“Nothing came from the case. At least not until a member of the local law enforcement reached out to my old man. The officer had been working to expose the D.A. and discovered there were federal implications involving other cases, so the two were quietly running an independent investigation with the hopes they could bring the issue to the State Attorney General. They had an appointment scheduled for the following Friday, only for my dad to get arrested on his own bullshit charges first thing Monday.”
“I remember hearing something about a whistleblower,” I say.
Jase runs a hand through his hair, his laugh low and humorless. “It was Clark.”
“Your dad’s campaign manager?”
He nods. “A wolf in sheep’s clothing. Easton planted him into my father’s campaign shortly after the case involving the D.A.
was brought to his attention. Over the next year, Clark began embezzling money from the campaign, and since he was the one handling all of the finances, my dad was none the wiser.
“Hell, if anything, my old man got off easy. One of the remaining guys investigating the case found the FBI banging down his office door and confiscating computers that suddenly had copious amounts of a certain kind of pornography on them. The other was charged with cocaine possession. And not a small amount either.”
Jesus.
“Is there a way of proving what happened?”
The smile Jase offers says everything. “It’ll take time, but it’s being handled.”
I want to ask a million more questions, but he’s not interested in any of that.
Nope, his attention is entirely on me right now. “Did you really not know it was me at the engagement party? Be honest.”
I smile. “Funny, because I’ve wanted to ask you the exact opposite, because I’ve run into people I’ve known for years, and no one but Reed has recognized me this summer.”
Jase actually looks offended. “Why wouldn’t I recognize you?”
I draw an invisible circle in the air around my face. “I’d say I look a bit different.”
He smirks. “It doesn’t matter how much makeup you have on or what color your hair is, Birdie. I’d recognize those eyes anywhere…which you can’t say about me, apparently.”
I chuck the wrapper to my straw at his face.
“One, I never claimed I did recognize you. And two, you can’t tell me you haven’t changed either.
The last time I saw you, you looked like you belonged in a boy band.
And then you show up tattooed, scarred, and muscular, looking like you were ripped straight out of a smutty dark romance book. ”
Jase does his best to act coy, but that mischievous grin can’t be contained. “Well, shucks, darlin’. You’re gonna make me blush.”
“Is there a story to go along with that?” I ask, tapping the spot below my own eye where the thin scar mars his cheek.
“Yeah, it’s called I’m a dumbass.” He laughs. “Word from the wise, don’t go down to Skid Row at two in the morning trying to find your drunk friend, especially when you’re drunk too.”
Jase’s smile collapses the longer he looks at me.
“Why didn’t you say anything when I called earlier? I had to hear about the photo leak from Dash.”
I chuckle, the sound horribly flat. “Because there isn’t anything that can be done about it. At least not right now. I figured I’d be better off doing something I could control.”
“Which is…?”
I shift my eyes to the thin plastic shopping bag sitting on the table.
Jase lifts the opening to peer inside, and his eyebrows immediately shoot up. “And when did you come to this decision exactly?”
Unsurprisingly, he’s scoping out the table, no doubt looking for more shot glasses or beer bottles.
“It was purchased at the drugstore across the street before I came here, and that’s only the third beer I’ve had in over five hours,” I laugh, gesturing to the half-finished bottle in front of him.
“Even broaching the subject with Maggie will likely make me chicken out, so I figured I needed a little liquid courage before bringing it up.”
He smirks. “And how’s that going?”
“I’m still here, aren’t I?”
“Have you thought this through? Because I’m pretty sure there’s no going back. Once you start, you’re pretty much locked in.”
“I’ve already been considering doing it for the past few weeks,” I admit.
“Well, in that case…” Jase plucks up the bag, lays some cash on the table, and slides back out of the booth, offering me his free hand. “Shall we?”
I don’t move. Call me a procrastinator, but I’d like to keep my head buried in the sand and avoid my problems for a little while longer, which stepping outside will no doubt ruin.
I don’t need to explain myself, though, because Jase clarifies, “Don’t worry. We’re not going far.”
Confused, I follow after him to the back of the establishment and into the dimly lit hallway. “We’re doing it in the bar bathroom ?”
All Jase offers is a sly smirk as we reach the end of the corridor. To the right are the restrooms, and to the left is a door labeled “AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.” Can you guess which one he takes?
“What’re you doing?” I hiss, trying to pull him back over the threshold, but he just continues up the stairs that greet us on the other side.
The bar occupies the ground floor of the building alongside a tattoo parlor and thrift shop.
From the signage out front, I’m pretty sure the levels above it are rundown apartments.
The carpet in the second-floor hallway smells as old as it looks, the paint on the walls is chipped, and sparse fluorescent lighting flickers like we’re in a horror movie.
Still, Jase offers no explanation, strolling over to the door labeled 2A. Maybe the glasses of water and Coke I had downstairs were spiked, because surely I’m far more drunk than I thought. It’s the only explanation for what I’m seeing.
Because Jase pulls out a key, unlocks the door, and heads inside the apartment.
And it only gets weirder from there. The space inside is essentially a tiny loft, laid out to look more like a hotel room than anything else.
There’s a short hallway with a vanity sink and interior bathroom to the left, a closet to the right, and then it opens up to a room with nothing more than a desk, TV stand, nightstand, mini fridge, and mattress.
I’m assuming Jase knows the owner, but nope.
He opens the closet, peeling off his wet t-shirt and replacing it with a fresh one.
The action allows me to see the inside of the wardrobe to confirm that, indeed, it’s filled entirely with his clothes, shoes, and suitcases.
I also recognize the Jim Butcher paperback on the nightstand that I’d seen him reading in my kitchen last week.
That’s also his brand of deodorant, as well as his mouthwash, aftershave, and toothpaste sitting on the vanity countertop.
I’m too busy trying to process everything that I’m caught off guard when Jase hands me a large, worn white t-shirt splattered in black and red paint stains.
“There’s about a hundred and ten percent chance this will get messy,” he clarifies with a grin. “I promise to find you something better when we’re done.”
Yeah, since I’m still wearing the clothes Aria lent me earlier, I especially don’t want to ruin them, so I disappear into the bathroom to change, where I also spot Jase’s shampoo and conditioner inside the shower.
Everything that had been missing from his bedroom back at my family’s place is here . That much is clear.
But the question is why?