Ace of Spades (12 page)

         
Jackson pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “Great. Be right back.”

         
Melody watched his retreating back as he disappeared into the kitchen. She
couldn’t help but wonder if the man knew his way around the kitchen or if he’d
have to recruit Maria to pour their drinks. Neither option would really
surprise her. The muffled sound of him banging around and cursing under his
breath made her think it probably should’ve been the latter.

         
Reemerging with a victorious grin, Jackson presented her with a bottle of rum
and a bag of frozen peas. “I brought this for me,” he said indicating the
bottle of rum. “And this for you,” he added tossing her the bag of peas.”

         
“Hey, what happened to my drink?” Melody protested, shuffling the bag of peas
from one hand to the other. Not that she needed it, but he had to have
something better than frozen legumes for her.

         
“Oh, so you
do
want some?” he teased.

         
“It might be a little better than frozen peas,” Melody laughed.

         
“Those are for your black eye, goofball. I couldn’t find a better ice pack for
you.”

         
“Oh.” Chuckling, Melody applied the bag of frozen vegetables to her battered
face. “Thanks.”

         
“But if you want a drink, you’ll have to drink straight from the bottle with
me. I sent Maria home for the night and I couldn’t find a damn thing in that
kitchen.

         
Melody chuckled.
Go figure.

         
“I don’t mind,” she admitted softly, warmed by the idea of drinking from the
same bottle. It seemed strikingly intimate somehow. Funny, considering all the
kissing they’d done.

         
The two of them cuddled up together on the couch and took turns sipping rum
straight from the bottle. Uncertain if it was Jackson or the alcohol that
warmed her blood and made her feel fuzzy -- but guessing it was partly both,
Melody reveled in the simple pleasure of his company.

         
It was easy and natural between them, like two parts of the same soul coming
together again. Time had changed both of them, but not enough to matter. He was
still the same boy she’d known and loved, her best friend. She didn’t realize
how much she’d missed him until she had him back.

         
They sat like that for hours, talking and laughing. Melody told Jackson stories
from college and he shared some of his more entertaining exploits from life on
the road. He didn’t mention prison or life beforehand. But it ate at Melody all
the same.

         
Melody snuggled up against Jackson’s chest, soaking in the calm of his steady
heartbeat pulsing beneath her cheek. He felt so solid and right up against her,
with his arm wrapped possessively around her back.  From this angle, she
couldn’t help but notice the letters inked across his right side of his chest
as their tops peeked out over the neckline of his shirt.

         
“What does this say?” she asked, lazily tracing the artful Latin scripted
across Jackson’s right
pec
with the pad of her
finger.

         
“
Veritas
vos
liberabit
--
the truth will set you free,” Jackson said
quietly, the odd tone in his voice inscrutable. She’d hit a nerve somehow and
he clearly didn’t want to show it.

         
“But that’s—”

         
“What you said to me the last time I saw you,” Jackson finished softly. “I
know.”

         
Melody sat up to study him. “Why?”

         
“Because you believed it.
You believed in me,” Jackson
sighed. “You were the only person who believed that the truth was less damning
than all the speculation. You were the only one who believed the truth would be
my redemption.”

         
“But you refused to tell it,” Melody protested, wishing her mind was a little
less hazy.
Stupid rum.

         
“I know.” Jackson shrugged. “It didn’t matter.
You
believed it.”

         
Melody studied him in silence, afraid to start down a path with no return
route. She didn’t want to drive him away, but she needed to know.

         
“What really happened, J?”

         
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, his voice flat and emotionless.

         
“At least tell me why you pushed me away,” Melody insisted, hoping she wouldn’t
regret it. “I think you owe me that much.”

         
Jackson sighed. “It’s complicated, Mel.”

         
“Please, J. I need to know,” Melody pled. Whatever
it
was, it made her lose
her best friend without so much as an explanation. They’d lost all those years
and she needed to know there was a viable reason for it.

         
Jackson chewed his lower lip in pensive thought. Mel thought he might not
answer, but then he spoke. “I’ve told you before. I didn’t feel like I deserved
you.”

         
“Jackson, that’s ridiculous. We were friends. I would’ve stood by you through
anything.”

         
“I know.” He gave her a pained smile. “That was the problem. I loved you, Mel,
more than I had ever imagined loving anything or anyone.
More
than music.
More than anything.
And I knew I
didn’t deserve your love in return.”

         
His words sank like stones in the pond that was her heart. “I loved you too, J.”

         
“But I didn’t deserve it.”

         
“Don’t be ridiculous. Why, J? Why would you think that?”

         
“Because of what happened.”
The words sounded dark and
hollow, as though he’d tried to distance himself from their implications.

         
Melody cleared her throat and hoped she was helping him more than hurting him
by coercing him to talk through whatever haunted him.
“Your
step-father’s death?”

         
Jackson nodded.
“And the shit leading up to it.”

         
This was uncharted territory. As far as she knew, Jackson had refused to talk
to anyone about the events leading up to his step-father’s stabbing. Unsure if
she was more afraid of the answer or the chance the question might drive
Jackson farther from her, Melody took a deep breath and leapt. “What really
happened that night, J?”

         
Sure enough, Jackson tried to roll away from her, but Melody stopped him with a
gentle, restraining hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. Whatever it was, it’s in
the past. You’re safe with me.”

         
Jackson sank back into the couch and closed his eyes, as though he could make
her prying questions disappear if he couldn’t see her. “I’ve never told anyone
about that night,” he said, the choked words spilling out in a scattered mess.

         
“I know. And you don’t have to tell me now, if you don’t want to,” Mel
reassured him, regretting the pain she’d clearly stirred up with her questions.

         
The silence stretched on between them like a gaping void. Lost deep in his own
thoughts, Jackson absently stroked Melody’s hair, twisting the ends around his
fingers. Mel didn’t know if the subject was dead in the water or if Jackson was
searching for the courage to say what he needed to say, but she waited in
silence, focusing on the feel of him so near.

         
When at last he spoke, his voice was so soft and fragile, Melody thought it
might shatter.

         
“The first time it… it… happened, I thought it
had
to be a nightmare. I
would wake up any minute to find the whole mess to be just a bad dream.”
    

         
Jackson scoffed bitterly, the angry sound sticking in his throat. “Yeah, too
bad that wasn’t the case.

         
“Remember how Union Jack came back to LA to work on our next album?”

         
Melody nodded. How could she forget? That was when Jackson had given her
her
first kiss.

         
“Well, it only made sense to stay with my mom at the place I’d bought for her
in Malibu.” Jackson’s lip curled in disgust. “But
he
was there. I couldn’t
believe my mom married that douche bag while I was on tour -- without even
telling me. Like the decision didn’t affect me, like I didn’t even warrant an
announcement, let alone an invitation.

         
“Sure,” he shrugged. “I wanted her to be happy, but the guy was scum. And she
just couldn’t see it. So there I was,
surprise
, stuck with a brand new
step dad. Imagine my joy,” Jackson drawled with dark sarcasm.

         
“What Mom saw in him, I’ll never know. I mean the dude was huge, well over six
feet tall and about two-hundred and eighty pounds of pure muscle. He should’ve
been a security guard or pro football player, but the man was a minister, Mel.
An honest to goodness, bible thumping, holier than thou, minister.
With his own little church and everything.
The hypocrite.”

         
“That’s not what bothered me about him though. What bothered me was the creepy
feeling I got when William looked at me, the way my skin crawled when he
watched me.” Jackson shuddered at the memory.

         
“The first time I met him, I knew something wasn’t quite right with him. I
tried to tell her, but she refused to hear it. She worshipped the ground the
son of a bitch walked on. So, there we
were,
one big,
happy
family.

         
“The first time it… happened,” Jackson’s voice grew soft, hesitant, resembling
the hush of a frightened child in the face of the boogey man.

         
He didn’t say it. He didn’t have to. Mel knew. And her chest tightened with
sorrow. Lacing her fingers through his, she squeezed Jackson’s hand in
reassurance.         

         
“I begged him to stop. Nothing had ever hurt like that before. Nothing had ever
made me feel so dirty, so used. I sat trembling in the shower, my blood
swirling down the drain as I cried like a little girl. And I promised myself --
never again
.”

         
The image of sweet, charismatic teenage
Jackson,
huddled and bleeding like a wounded animal was more than Melody could bear. She
wished she could go back in time and stab the bastard for Jackson. Seventeen
times wasn’t enough.

         
“But sure enough, William had other plans,” Jackson muttered darkly.

         
“Mom was working her usual night shift. I don’t know why she wouldn’t just
quit. I made more than enough to support us without her working. But she
refused to take my money. She said it was bad enough that I gave her the house.
Now I wish I’d insisted a little harder.

         
“I had tried over and over again to find the words to tell her what had
happened the last time she’d left me alone with that man. I tried to make her
see how evil William was. But she was blinded by his lies.”

         
Jackson sucked in a long, slow breath. Mel feared he might not ever let it out,
holding his breath until he passed out like a toddler throwing a tantrum. But
at last he exhaled in a ragged, mournful sigh. Melody couldn’t begin to imagine
how painful this was for him, reliving the memory he’d repressed for so long.

         
The truth was out, albeit only between the two of them. And the truth was that
William Ward got exactly what he deserved. Melody had always known Jackson wasn’t
a cold-blooded killer. She’d known there was a hell of a lot more to the story
than Jackson let on. She’d just never imagined the pain and shame Jackson had
born alone for so long.
No wonder the truth didn’t set him
free.
It almost killed him, eating at him until he couldn’t live with
himself.

         
Melody would give anything to take away the pain. For the first time, she saw
Jackson’s drug abuse for what it was -- an escape from reality. Her proud,
beautiful, and kind-hearted Jackson self-medicated for a pain no person should
ever have to bear.

         
Jackson’s eyes, brimming with unshed tears, were glazed and distanced, as
though he was someplace far away. His voice was low and flat as he relived
every second of the night life as he’d known had ended….

         
So there I sat, huddled on the couch, waiting for the bastard to make his
move. It didn’t take long. Mom headed out for her eleven pm shift and the son
of a bitch came, drawn like a moth to a flame.

         
“It’s getting late,” William said to me. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

         
I kept my eyes on the flashing screen of the television. “I’m not tired.”

         
“You will be,” William snorted with smug satisfaction.

         
I ignored him, staring blankly past him at the screen. Though I tried to steady
them, my hands trembled at my sides. My heart thundered in my chest.

         
“You look at me when I talk to you, boy,” the big man growled at me. His huge
hand crashed into my cheek in an explosion of pain.