CHAPTER FIFTEEN
MASON
“There’s the good ol’ Menace Beckett I’ve been waiting on,” Buddy says, sounding relieved from the other end of the phone line.
My college nickname, once a joking reference to my reckless and wild partying, now puts a foul, bitter taste in my mouth. I swallow it down as I pace the garage.
“Yeah, you were real patient about it too,” I say, recalling the barrage of texts and emails he’s been firing off at me.
I could barely make it through dinner at Jeanie’s last night without feeling the phone vibrate in my pocket. If the heavy reality of meeting a girl’s family wasn’t stressful enough, I have Buddy breathing down my neck.
It’s late, I should be calling it a day, but I can’t take Buddy and this whole situation looming over me another night.
“Hey, you know how it is, the family legacy is on the line here. In fact, I imagine you know better than most what that means after the mess you’ve been cleaning up after your father. I’m doing what I can to preserve the Graham name, same as you.”
Another bad taste, but I can’t argue. I’ve earned my place in hell furthering the Beckett name. Changing course now can’t negate that.
“So, what’s the case?
“District Attorney’s office is taking it to Grand Jury, so the exact charges are fuzzy right now. Look, Nick’s a Trojan, it was after a game, he was wasted… I know you remember what that was like, Menace. Nick tells me there was a fistfight, bunch of guys involved, probably just going to be some assault charges.”
“Victims?” I ask, bracing myself. It can’t be an assault without a victim, but I’m holding out hope it’s just another good ol’ boy, at least they’d be evenly matched.
“I think a handful of townies. You can imagine. They catch a whiff of old money and they’re drawn in like leeches,” he says, condescension dripping from his voice.
It’s obvious he’s not going to shoot straight with me on this. I can handle a fight from the prosecutor, but there’s nothing an attorney resents more than a withholding client. At the very least, own your shit with the one person who can help you.
“When are they holding Grand Jury?” I ask, trying to calculate my timeframe.
“I’m not sure but the Preliminary Hearing is set for a two weeks from tomorrow. Of course, there is a chance they don’t indict,” he says unconvincingly.
This isn’t Nick’s first rodeo and I’m guessing he’s not going to come out of this smelling like a rose. Last time it was armed robbery, supposedly, reindeer games gone wrong. I won, of course, but only after eviscerating the prosecution’s key witness—the scared kid that Nick and his friends had bullied to the point of felony charges.
My stomach churns over what new low I’ll have to sink to for this case.
“Two weeks, not even that actually, because I’ll need to start looking over police reports and getting my own investigator working on this. It doesn’t leave me much time to get back there.”
“Dude, tell me you’re going to be there. I’m counting on you, bro,” he says, his voice sounding more threatening than pleading.
There is virtually no way I’ll finish Jerry’s car in time.
“I’ll be there,” I say, feeling like I’m hammering the final nail into my coffin.
“Excellent. I knew you’d come through. Talk soon,” he says, hanging up.
I put the phone down and wonder how much I’ll live to regret this.
*
It’s a gray, overcast morning and I’ve overslept. I thought by agreeing to take on the case, I’d at least get a break from the stress, the sense of dread, but it’s just getting worse. Driving to the garage, I realize I need to start tying up my ends here, at least for the foreseeable future. Of course, that means lots of things, but only one of them is forefront in my mind.
Jeanie.
I feel like an asshole, but I’ve been ignoring or barely responding to her messages, hoping to make things a little easier on her. I’m wrestling with the fact I should simply cut things off cleanly now, before she starts expecting more or I hurt her any further. I know I need to, but I haven’t been able to do it.
I’ve always been careful in the partners I’ve chosen—career-minded women looking for casual pleasure, nothing more. That is, until I met Jeanie and those wide green eyes, so full of innocence and warmth, and I succumbed to impulse.
“Hey,” I say, rushing into the shop.
“You’re late. Dan’s just dropped off a busted timing belt. It’s in the garage waiting for you.”
Jeanie’s at the counter, staring intently at the computer screen. She’s so sexy, and it’s been several days now since I’ve really touched her. I’m itching for contact.
I walk by and let my hand drag across her thigh as I look through the invoices on the desk, but she turns and moves away from my touch.
Great. She’s clearly pissed.
I’m trying to figure out what I did wrong but coming up blank. She certainly can’t know about the case with Buddy.
“Something wrong?” I ask, frustrated that she won’t even look at me.
“Oh no, everything is just fine,” she says, sarcastically.
I may not have much experience in relationships, but I know passive aggression when I see it. Why do women insist on creating these verbal puzzles no one can solve?
I look at the schedule for the day and remember I’m already running late.
“Okay, clearly everything is not fine. But, if you want to sit there stewing in it all day, that’s your choice, I’ve got work to do.”
She just keeps looking at the computer, saying nothing. To hell with it, I’m not a mind-reader.
I go into the garage and start working on the car Dan dropped off, all the while feeling like I’m circling the drain with Jeanie.
It’s my own damn fault. I knew it was a bad idea. I knew it was bound to end in an explosion.
Hours pass and she’s barely making eye contact with me. It seems like she’s going out of her way to ignore me, and part of me wants to let her—certainly easier. On the other hand, it’s starting to drive me crazy, not knowing what she’s so pissed about.
I go into the office for a fresh cup of coffee. I fill my mug and walk to the counter, staring at her patiently, waiting for her to acknowledge me. For a moment, I almost want to laugh at her stubbornness.
She sighs audibly but says nothing else.
Fine, you win. I’ll speak first.
“Alright, this has gone on long enough. Why don’t you just save us some time here and tell me what it is I said or did that got your panties in such a bunch.”
She looks irritated. “Is that all you care about?”
“What?” I ask.
“Panties… sex… Anything more than that and you just shut down, close people off.”
She’s right, but I still feel indignant. For fuck’s sake, I met her uncle!
“Excuse me? I’m pretty sure I came and met your family. How is that ‘shutting down’?”
“Yeah, you did and you’ve been avoiding me ever since. If you didn’t want to meet Jerry, you should have just said so.”
“If I didn’t want to meet Jerry, I wouldn’t have,” I answer flatly.
“Then why is it I can barely get a one word message out of you? Don’t tell me it’s because you’re sooo busy, because I know you’re not that busy. I’ve seen you on that phone you keep in the shop.”
My temper rises a tick. “So you’re spying on me now?”
“No, but I might as well be since you’re barely even talking to me.”
“Well, like it or not, I really have been busy. What more is it you want from me here?”
“Do I really have to spell it all out for you?”
I can feel the muscle in my jaw twitching. This is exactly why I don’t get involved with good girls. I never claimed to be suited for good company, but here she is trying to make me fit into some mold—expectations I can’t possibly live up to, not least because I have to fucking guess at what they are.
“Look, I told you from the beginning, I’m not the relationship type. I’ve never claimed I was good at any of this. I’m trying here, Jeanie, but I can’t read your mind. If there is something you’re expecting from me, you’re going to have to tell me what it is because you’re just going to make yourself mad waiting for me to figure it out.”
“Well, communication might be a start,” she says, crossing her arms.
I stretch my jaw and crack my neck, sore from the stress I’m getting on both ends now.
“We’re communicating right now, aren’t we?” I say, my voice clipped from exasperation.
She shakes her head, looking more sad than angry, “Fine. Whatever. Clearly, all you’ve been interested in is doing the bare minimum to get what you want with me.”
Are we seriously back to this?
My face grows hot. “Right, you’re so right. Because the bare minimum was apologizing for offending you to start off with, then agreeing to hire you even though you clearly still did not like me at all and took every opportunity to peck at me. And it was definitely the bare minimum when I went and defended you from that asshole Clint or when I went out and spent three hours getting interrogated by your uncle. I’ve definitely just been trying to get into your pants this whole time with no regard for anything else. Is that what you want to hear?”
“No!” she shouts, grabbing her purse and storming out the front door.
I go back to work in the garage, taking my frustrations out on my tools. As my blood starts to finally cool, regret starts to seep in.
Still, it’s probably for the best. Let her hate me, it might just make it easier for her when I have to leave.
I go to the bench and rush order the automotive paint and remaining parts I need for the GTO. Hopefully, I can finish it before I have to be back in New York for the preliminary hearing and make it a surprise parting present to Jeanie. If she needs to hate me for this to be easier, then so be it, but I promised to finish it and I’ll damn well stand by my word.