Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Jennifer
After letting another few drops land in the bucket, I hoist it up and attempt to carry it to the sink without spilling it all over myself. I’ve been letting the drips collect for a couple of days now, but with the rainy weather today, it would probably end up spilling over while I’m at work.
That, or it would end up too heavy for me to lift.
I manage to tip all the water out with minimal splashes, then place it back on the ground under the leak with a sigh.
I could just ask Clint to fix the roof, but every time I think about making my life easier, that voice inside my head speaks up. It’s a constant blaring reminder of my sins.
Can Jacob change his surroundings so easily?
No.
The fact that Mase turned up at the club the other night . . . It’s like he was there to solidify that voice. Making sure I never forget. How could I, anyway?
My stomach had dropped to the floor like a hundred-pound weight when I saw who he was. The worst kind of blast from my past.
I could hardly breathe when he was trying to figure out if he knew me. Each pass of his eyes over my face had my shoulders inching higher. Thank goodness, he didn’t realize who I was.
It’s been—or rather, he’s been on my mind ever since.
Why was he even there if it wasn’t to enjoy the women?
He gave me that card and told me to tell the girls, but was that the reason for his visit?
With a shake of my head, I leave my leaky kitchen to get my bag from the bedroom, then I grab my umbrella and put a jacket on over my sweater before stepping out into the rain.
My head is tucked low as I make the walk from the bus stop to Tease. The umbrella keeps my upper body dry, but the puddles threaten to soak through my shoes.
It’s not until I’m mere feet away from the front of the building that I lift my head and see none other than Mase leaning against the brick exterior, hands buried inside his black hoodie pocket.
I quickly lower my umbrella, trying to cover my face before he looks my way, but I’m not fast enough. He turns his head and sees me a second before I’m out of view.
Maybe I’m lucky and he didn’t notice I’m the same woman from the other night. There’s a strong chance that he’s not even here for me. Either way, I don’t want to draw his attention to myself.
I hear his steps and keep going, attempting to rush to the staff entrance on the side of the building, but the sound of his voice halts me.
“Jennifer.”
Shit, shit, shit.
I don’t move again. I can’t. I’m frozen to the spot. Paralyzed by that name.
He knows who I am. He figured it out, even after all this time and with my dyed hair.
I hear him approach from behind and close my eyes, waiting for him to say whatever he needs to.
Does he know what I did?
Does he know how rotten I am?
Did he think his friend was innocent?
I’ve managed to avoid seeing anyone from my past for the last couple of years, but I guess it was only a matter of time before it happened. And what better form of punishment is there than one of Jacob’s best friends finding me?
Opening my eyes again, I watch as Mase walks around to stand in front of me, his forehead puckered. “It is you.”
I swallow through the dryness, my chest and throat constricting. “It’s me,” I whisper. There’s no point in denying it. Whatever he wants to do to me, I will accept.
Mase’s eyes flitter across my face, relearning, dissecting, cataloguing the differences between now and the other night. There is no makeup accompanied by fake lashes and glitter.
“You do know who I am, don’t you?”
I nod, chewing on my lip. “Yes.”
“It’s been a long time. I mean, besides the other night.” He looks me over again. “You changed your hair.”
“Oh.” Instinctively, I reach up to touch it. “Yeah. Just wanted a change, I guess.” Such an awkward conversation.
It’s only sprinkling right now, and I watch as the droplets land on his head, clinging to his wavy black strands before he runs a hand through his hair and smothers them.
It’s a little longer than it used to be, and his features have all transformed from that of a teenager to a man, filling out to complete a handsome package.
His lips press together, head shaking as he looks to the side, considering his next words.
Keeping my chin up, I brace for them.
Mase’s eyes return to me, the troubled look remaining. “I wanted to say that I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry for what happened to you all those years ago . . . that night.”
“You . . . what?” My mind scrambles to catch up with what he just said.
“If I had known what he was like . . .” He shakes his head again; meanwhile, my stomach turns to acid. “If I knew how evil he was, maybe I could have stopped him or something. I don’t know—”
“Stop,” I blurt, a small puff of misty white air escaping my lips. “Please, just stop.”
Mase closes his mouth and nods as if understanding. He thinks I don’t like talking about what happened. And while that’s generally true, I can’t hear him apologize for Jacob’s actions. I can’t hear him bad-mouthing him.
Every word is like a slice to my soul.
You should hear this, life ruiner.
Was this what he wanted to say to me all those years ago when I ran into him on the street that Halloween, when I thought he was just as bad as Jacob? He wasn’t angry with me for putting his friend in prison, because Mase believes his friend was evil.
A distant memory rises to the surface, vague and blurry, one where I hear Marni saying it seemed like Mase had separated himself from the others. Like he didn’t want to be associated with them. I had completely forgotten about that.
For some reason I want to yell at him for leaving his friend, for abandoning him. How could he do that, believe the worst, so easily?
You believed the worst of Jacob.
Another twist of the stomach.
Mase takes a deep breath. “I just really hope you don’t hold me in the same category as him. You seemed like you were scared of me.”
I blink him back into focus, landing on his dark eyes, then absorb what he said. Guilt piles onto my already layered shoulders for making him think that. “I don’t think you’re like that,” I tell him, and mean it.
Scared probably isn’t the right word for what I felt when I saw Mase the other night. Startled, then apprehensive, distressed maybe, but not scared—and none of it was for the reason he thinks.
Sometimes I get bad feelings from men, and other times I just feel uncomfortable in their presence, but it’s not like that with him.
His shoulders seem to relax under his black hoodie at my answer, as if it were something that had been bothering him. I’m not sure why it would matter what I thought.
A beat of silence passes before he speaks again, angling his head to the building. “So, you’re really working here?”
I lift my chin. “You know I am.”
More rain is falling now, and while I’m covered, Mase is not. It doesn’t seem to bother him, though, as little raindrops slide down his cheek and drip from his jaw. His jaw looks sharper in the daylight, strong and defined—a contrast to the softness of his lips.
His chin dips with another nod. “I guess I’m just wondering why? Why here of all places?”
My brows scrunch together. I know this place doesn’t have a good reputation, but the question is odd and unexpected from a virtual stranger. I guess so was him saying that he was sorry about Jacob, although that makes more sense.
“Why do you ask?”
“You just . . . It didn’t look like you wanted to be here when I saw you.
” The compassion swimming through his mysterious eyes as he watches me makes me feel sick.
I don’t deserve his compassion; I don’t deserve his kindness or even a second thought from him.
Why does he even care, and what is he doing here, anyway?
I resist the urge to scratch at the irritated flesh on my arm while my gaze drifts to the wooden door I will need to go through to start the torture all over again. “You don’t know me, so I don’t know how you can assume that.”
“You’re right. I guess that’s true.” He stuffs his hands back into his hoodie pocket, shifting his feet. “Listen, the card I gave you, you should come to a class.”
“I don’t think so,” I tell him, returning my gaze to his face.
“The other girls might, though.” He doesn’t look particularly pleased with my response, but taking one of those classes would better my situation, and that is not something I’m willing to do.
“Look, I have to go now.” Without waiting for a response, I walk to the door again.
I can tell he’s still watching me as I go. He did that the other night as well. I had tried to ignore the sensation of his eyes on me, but I could feel them searing into my flesh from across the club, and every time I looked up, there he was, watching.
“Jennifer,” he calls to me just as I open the door.
I cringe at the name, my muscles twitching with aversion, then I look at him over my shoulder. “It’s Jayne. I don’t go by Jennifer anymore.” I don’t even know why I told him that name rather than JJ.
“Sorry . . . Jayne. Just think about it, okay?” His final words reach my ears just before the door shuts.
I take several steps inside before pausing, leaning my back against the wooden-slat wall while I take a few deep breaths. That was unexpected, to say the least.
Was he really just waiting out there for me to arrive? For how long?
“Why are you just standing there doing nothing?” Looking up, I see Chester sitting at one of the nearby tables, having a drink with one of his friends, his narrow eyes on me, waiting, impatient. “Get your ass into the dressing room.”
“Sorry.” I quickly push off the wall and move to get changed.
I don’t think I’ll be able to escape into my mind tonight, but at least I’ll be distracted thinking about something else.
*~*~*~*~*
“Let go of me.”
Meaty hands grip my shoulders, keeping me pressed into the lap of the man behind me.
I knew this stringy-haired man would end up being a creep as soon as I stepped into his space.