NINE
“You need to answer the question, Jules.” Dax speaks low and steady, but he’s quite different from the put-together man I met last night. Even during his brother’s operation, he stayed calm and professional, detached even. So, the strain in his voice makes me wonder what this is really about. He doesn’t know me well enough to give a shit about me or what happens to me.
“I thought Aiden answered it for you?” I shrug, turning back to the bathroom.
“Don’t move!” Dax snaps. “Turn around and drop the towel.”
“What the—”
Aiden inches forward, raising his hand like I’m a startled animal and not the pissed off woman in front of him. “He means just low enough to show the bruise, kid.”
Kid? Why does that sting? To these guys I am a kid, but damn I don’t want them thinking it. I was adult enough when I saved Tom’s life. I’m adult enough to raise my siblings, to earn money to feed our family and pay bills, to take beatings and get up like nothing happened. Who are these men to call me a kid?
“I’m not a kid, and my body is my business. You don’t get to dictate orders to me like I’m one of your lackeys.” I throw the words at Dax but include Aiden in the sentiment.
Dax’s shoulders sink, but his arrogance and sense of entitlement doesn’t diminish one bit. “Fine, then answer my question. Is that a boot print?”
“It’s none of your—”
Aiden interrupts again. “Jules, this is one time it’ll be easier just to tell the truth.”
I can’t tell whose side he’s on. Softening Dax’s demands doesn’t stop them from being demands, but I guess he’s right. They’ve both seen it now anyway, and the mottled pattern is obviously distinctive enough to be recognisable as the sole of a shoe.
“Fuck! Fine. Yes, it’s a boot print. Can I get dressed now, or do you enjoy making me feel like a piece of meat?”
Finally, Dax relents. His eyes rove over my body before settling on the towel twisted in my white-knuckled grip. “Go. We’ll be right here waiting.”
I don’t waste a second. Why the hell did Charlie let them come upstairs? Who am I kidding? Dax could charm the pants off a nun. Koko should have had my back at least. Damn.
I stumble and yank at my clothing, studiously ignoring my scarlet reflection in the mirror. My blush is body wide, and it’s hard to tell if it’s embarrassment or fury that paints my skin. I’m pissed at his highhandedness, but shame is the biggest emotion churning through my veins. No one should have seen those bruises. I faked the pain away for days. I hid them from everyone and yet it takes Dax Nagano only hours to see everything I’ve worked so hard to hide.
I choke on a bitter laugh. I’d hoped for compassion — a stupid hug — from that man last night. I imagined a world where he saw me as a person and not a piece of shit from the Vale. What a joke. After today, that man wouldn’t be able to see past the fact that I’m so unworthy—so low—I already have the stamp of a man’s boot on my back. Just another arsehole’s doormat.
When I’m dressed, moth-eaten t-shirt and all, I inhale deeply, take the envelope out of my back pocket, grab my stuff and march back into the hallway with my chin up and shoulders back.
I dump my filthy clothes beside my bag and face Dax and Aiden, noting neither strayed far from Charlie’s oversized pink sofa.
“I assume Charlie let you come up?”
“Charlotte Loane married to Maleko Loane. Commonly they go by the names Charlie and Koko,” Aiden explains like a walking encyclopaedia of who’s who in the Vale.
“Maleko…Mal?” Dax’s voice raises a little in what sounds like alarm. Aiden nods, but his expression is closed. Dax makes a weird hmm sound and continues his questioning. “And Charlie is the redhead downstairs?” Aiden nods. This time Dax smiles. “Yes. She said you needed to rest and to keep you up here as long as we need,” Dax informs me, his smile transforming into a smirk. Aiden shakes his head, but there’s a twitch of amusement at his mouth too.
“She’s probably got Koko listening at the door with his machete, so I wouldn’t be too damn cocky about it, but fine. Let’s get this over with.”
Dax holds his hand out, directing me to an armchair as if this is his house and we’re not all outstaying our welcome.
I rub the dry envelope between my thumb and forefinger, unsure of whether or not to hand it over. Is this the right time? The right company? “I know you trust Aiden, but I was told only to…um…I need to see you alone.” I shoot an apologetic glance at Aiden, who has been nothing but professional to me, and leave it for Dax to tell him to scoot.
“It’s okay. Aiden is the only person I can trust. We both know what we’ll find in that envelope. You can hand it over now,” Dax assures me, reaching out his hand.
Looking down at it, I’m surprised to see what had once been crisp and white, now bears dirty smears, creases, and fingerprints. Dirt and blood. I glance at it one last time before leaning across Charlie’s coffee table and giving it to Dax for a second time. This time, though, he opens the seal and pulls out the paper within. There’s a whisper of sound, like the confession of a sin, as a thin sheet of white paper slides out with what appears to be two long lists written upon it.
Dax’s face pales. He nods at Aiden. “I mean, I suspected…but seeing it…”
He scans it, his eyes flicking from left to right and then reads it again more slowly. He scowls. His lips pinch so tight that I’m certain it hurts. Whatever is in that envelope makes him unhappy.
“Have you read this?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No.”
“Did Tom tell you what was in here?”
“No.” I state my response in a calm clear voice, but something in the speed and urgency with which he asks the questions makes me curious about what is written there.
“Good. Very good.”
Aiden sucks in a hard breath and forces it out through his nose. The room fills with the hiss of his disappointment and frustration.
“The real question is, how did Tom get it?” he asks, staring over Dax’s head. “Why did he have it at Olive Tower and what were his plans for it? Your brother is the only one we can trust to answer those questions.”
Dax nods solemnly. “Then we better pray he wakes up.”
Their conversation is private, I know that, but I can’t stop myself from asking about the only other person there last night who might have the answers they’re looking for.
“What about Ben? He was there. He knows about the envelope; you saw how desperate he was to get it. Can’t you ask him?”
The two men snap their attention to me as though only just remembering I’m here.
It’s Dax who explains.
“We don’t know if he’s…uh…the problem. We can’t be sure he knows what this is, or that he’ll tell us the truth about who he was meeting. It’s a complicated situation, Jules, and one you don’t need to worry about. Thank you for protecting this. You have no idea of how much good you’ve done by keeping this hidden.”
His voice is sincere, but as always, I check what his face and body are saying too. My grandmother taught me ‘a mouth can sing pretty lies that could fool angels, but eyes find it harder to hide the truth’. I hear lies daily; most of them from my own lips. So, I make a point of checking every possible tell before I take somebody at their word.
Dax’s sincerity plays out in every inch of him, from his unwavering gaze to the rigid stoicism lacing his muscles and even the way he leans toward me. Truth or not, he believes what he’s saying, and he wants me to believe, too.
“Tom said you’d been betrayed. He said you were in danger,” I remind him.
He draws back. His eyes flick from me to a bookcase in the corner of the room. The wry twist of his lips convinces me I’m about to be brushed off before he even utters a word.
“I’m always in danger, Jules. It’s part of the job when you swim with sharks,” he says enigmatically. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got Aiden. I’m much more concerned about who hurt you. That bruise isn’t new, neither is the one at your hip.” He nods his head at the spot where my t-shirt has ridden up and I quickly yank it down.
“The Vale is a shark pool, Dax,” I continue his metaphor. “But while you’re swimming among sharks like a tourist with your Aiden-shaped cage for protection, some of us are frantically swimming to survive.”
“Who hurt you, Jules,” he asks. I should have realised he wouldn’t drop it.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter,” he snaps back.
Why? Why is he pushing this? I’m nobody. He’ll forget me in a day or two, so why make such a fuss when I clearly don’t want to tell him?
“No. It doesn’t. Telling you doesn’t stop this. It doesn’t make me feel better. Playing hero for five minutes and making all kinds of promises that you’ll never follow through on is no use to me. So, no. It doesn’t matter.”
Where I expect him to be insulted by my words, he only becomes more determined to prove me wrong.
“What if I’m the type of man to follow through?” he insists. “What if I can make it stop?”
Make it stop? For what? A minute? A day? This was my father. My life. My way of protecting the kids—of breaking him in so they don’t get this treatment when they’re my age. That’s what the eldest does, right; smash the preconceived ideas of parenting? Break enough of the rules to make life a little easier for the ones who come after? Or is that another lie I tell myself? I can’t tell anymore; I’ve been saying it so long it’s probably true now.
Either way, I can’t let Dax help me if it means condemning Mum and the kids.
“Look. I’m fine, okay? It was my fault. Are we done here? I have hungry kids at home that really need me to earn their breakfast.”
“You’ve no food indoors?”
Fuck, why did I say that and how did he immediately jump to the right conclusion? How much worse can I make us look?
“Forget it. I need to work. You should probably leave now.” The belligerence in my voice almost has me wincing. He doesn’t deserve my rudeness.
“Fine. We’ll go but take this. I might need to check in with you and it’s easier and faster if you have a phone.”
Aiden hands me a turquoise phone that I take just to make them leave.
“Both Mr Nagano’s number and mine are in there. You can call me for anything and Mr Nagano for emergencies,” Aiden explains.
Dax shoots him a curious look. “You can call me for anything too, Jules,” he says while staring a hole in the side of Aiden’s head. Aiden’s lips twitch again. Is he annoyed or does he find this shitshow funny?
“I’ll probably not need it, but okay. Done?”
“For now.”
I let them go downstairs before grabbing my stuff, locking the door, and following them down. Charlie catches my glower and looks suitably chagrined by my anger.
“I told you to mind your own business,”Koko grumbles at her and throws an I-told-you-so glare which makes me feel just a little better. At least he agrees with me on this one.
“She is my business,” Charlie grumbles back, but has the sense to leave it alone.
Dax doesn’t even pay them any attention. “We’ll pick you up after your shift.”
“No, you won’t. I’m going home. I have responsibilities. If you need me, you can call me.”
“Whatever you say.” Dax grins, holding open the door like he expects me to say something. I spin on my heel and whisk myself off to the kitchens, picking up the slack and getting my shift officially started. Dax’s laughter rings out as the bells chime with the closing door.
“I want to ask,” Charlie whispers, “but I won’t.”
“Okay.”
“Are you okay?”
“Annoyed but fine.”
“Okay.” There’s a five-minute break filled only with the clang of metal bowls and the opening and closing of oven doors. Then Charlie breaks the silence again. “So, you have a shiny new phone?”
“Looks like it.”
“Great…that’s great…” She sweeps the scotch eggs out to the display cabinet in the shop proper and leaves me to stew in my mood. But in true Charlie fashion, she can’t help trying to smile straight through my personal rain cloud. Her head pops around the door and she grins. “So, you’ll call me later to give me all the deets on Dax Sexy-San and Aiden O’Hotsuff, right?”
Her eyes are as bright as the year end fireworks. I catch all the naughty ideas sparking within them and, before I know it, I’m laughing. She nods as if breaking my bad mood was her end goal, but I know she’ll be calling me later to hear all the details of last night. Good and bad.
I let work sweep me up. Chatting about nonsense with Charlie, listening to her banter with Koko, preparing the displays and the notice board with today’s specials. Things are almost normal. For a second, I can forget about the drama of last night and the hell I’ll be walking into at home. By the time my shift is over, and I’ve grabbed a paper bag filled with goodies for the kids, I’m able to smile and really mean it.
Until I’m stopped at the door by one of Dax’s suited guards.
“Miss Feelan?”
“Yes?”
“These are for you.”
The nameless suit places two plastic shopping bags at my feet and then leaves. I stare down at the bags. They bulge from top to bottom, filled with fresh milk, vegetables, fruit, yogurts, cookies, bread, even diapers for Casey.
My chest hurts. Gratitude and concern war within my breast. Dax has done a good thing—a wonderful thing—and yet I’m terrified. My father is going to ask so many questions. If I tell the truth about Dax, who knows what he’ll do to turn this situation to his advantage. Who knows what he’ll make me do? If I lie and say I bought them with my money, I’ll get a kicking for sure. My earnings are his. If he thinks I’ve been saving anything for myself, effectively stealing from him, I’m done for.
I can’t do right for doing wrong.