For the Love of Jazz (2 page)

“Then you understand why I can’t let it happen.” He tapped the steering wheel with his hands, a habitual nervous gesture. When Alex was nervous, being still was impossible. “Dad thinks we’re going to have to pay her money—between her and her mother, they’re greedy enough they’ll take the money and be thankful they don’t have to take care of some kid.”

“You really ready to be a dad, Alex?”

Alex looked too damn old for his years as he replied, “Doesn’t matter if I’m ready or not. It’s going to happen. But I can handle it.” With a trace of his normal good humor, Alex slid Jazz a sly glance. “I’ll name you the godfather, bro.”

In the process of sipping from his soda, Jazz choked on a laugh. “The hell you will,” he replied, good-naturedly smacking Alex on the head.

* * *

Three weeks later, there was no baby. Maribeth lay in her bed, glaring up at the beautiful young man at her bedside. Thick, wheat-blond hair fell over a lightly tanned face, eyes bluer than the noontime sky, a mouth straight off the mold of a master sculptor. Already, he had his father’s build, long, rangy and powerful.

It wasn’t fair, a man looking like he did, being as smart as he was, and rich to boot. And the bastard wouldn’t share it with her.

“I got rid of it,” she said coldly. “Me and Momma went into town and I got an abortion.”

“You bitch,” Alex whispered, his hands shaking with rage. “How in the hell could you do that?”

Across the street, Jazz rose from the porch where he had been passing the time with Sandy Pritchard. The skin on the back of his neck rose as he listened to the porch swing creak behind him. “What’s wrong, baby?” Sandy asked softly, rising to go wrap an arm around his waist. He only shook his head.

Staring at the silent house, his gut churning, Jazz waited. He’d waved at Alex when his friend pulled up. Jazz and Sandy were supposed to go to the drive-in, although he was wondering if he could talk her into someplace a little more private. Another week, Jazz was leaving and he wouldn’t be back for a long while.

“Something wrong, Jazz?” Sandy asked again.

Jazz shook his head. “I don’t know.” Alex had acted as if he hadn’t seen Jazz when he waved and there had been a look on his face that Jazz didn’t like one bit. Sandy stood silently next to him, her mink-brown curls pulled into a high ponytail. Laying her head on his shoulder, Sandy’s eyes drifted to the house across the street.

Off in the distance, thunder rumbled. The sky held the dark promise of a summer thunderstorm and the air felt heavy and thick with it. Staring at Maribeth’s ramshackle, little house, Jazz felt like the air was weighing down on him, but it had nothing to do with the quicksilver change in the weather.

Voices rose and although Jazz couldn’t make out the words, he recognized his friend’s voice. Alex wasn’t the kind to yell much. Too laid-back, too easy going. When Alex yelled, people were better off to just shut up and get out of his way, because it took a lot to make him lose it.

“Something bad’s going down,” Sandy murmured, stroking his rigid back with a soothing hand. “Awful bad.”

Inside the house, face gone white with fury, Alex closed his hands into tight fists, dragging a deep breath of air into his lungs. The curtains fluttered in the window, a small fan busily whirling in the open frame. The scent of ozone drifted in on the air and in the distance, there was the ominous rumble of thunder.

“That was my baby,” he said, his voice gone hoarse with emotion. “Mine!”

Sneering at him, Maribeth said, “How do you know? I didn’t even know if you were the father. Besides, it was my choice.”

“A baby isn’t a damned choice!” Alex shouted. “Why in the hell did you do it?”

In a calm voice, she replied, “Because you wouldn’t marry me.”

“I said I’d take care of the baby. I would have taken the baby,” Alex said. The rage inside him boiled and simmered, ready to strike out.

“No wife, no baby,” Maribeth said, shrugging her shoulders. “Me and Momma talked it out. And I wasn’t going to sell you my baby to live in your fine house on the hill, so it could grow up rich, while I spend my life in this hell hole.”

Without even realizing it, Alex started to reach for her. Her lovely gray eyes widened only slightly and a smile flirted with her mouth. “Go ahead,” she offered. “I should get something out of this, at least.”

Shaken, Alex pulled his hands back, jammed them deep into his pockets. “You’ll regret this,” he said, his voice quiet. And then, he turned away and left the room.

In the living room, he came up with Maribeth’s maker. Her mother, a sly, cunning woman with cold eyes, blocked his path. “If you’re wanting this to stay quiet, we could use some money around here,” Eleanor said, smiling up at him, her mouth an obscene red.

“You’re not getting a penny from me,” Alex said, brushing past her.

Eleanor took a slow drag on her cigarette and smiled. “The town of Briarwood isn’t going to like to hear the story of its favored son’s downfall.” He’d break, they always did. Passing a hand down her heavy fall of platinum blonde hair, she waited.

But the young man who turned to look at her had a backbone of pure steel. “I was ready and willing to take the baby and raise it. I
wanted
it. Do you think anybody who knows me will give a rat’s ass what you say?”

She batted her eyes at him. “Oh, they’ll believe me,” she murmured. Then she closed her eyes and when she opened them, she looked at him through a blur of tears. She made her voice quiver as she whispered, “You raped my baby girl, got her pregnant, and made her get rid of it.” As easy as she had brought on the tears, she blinked them away and smirked at Alex.

But he didn’t look at all worried. In fact, the arrogant brat actually
laughed
at her. He laughed—then he threatened her. “Ms. Park, you feel free to say whatever you want to say. But, before you do, you might want to remember that it’s my Aunt Sarah that owns the beauty parlor you work in. And Jed Stokes, down at the bank, well, he and my daddy grew up together. You have a mortgage on this house, don’t you?”

Fury flooded her and she hissed, “You wouldn’t dare! Damn it, I’ll tell the whole town what a bastard you are.”

He laughed, tucking his hands in the pockets of his Levi’s. Spread-legged, a mean grin on his face, he looked at her and shook his head. “You honestly think anybody in this town is going to take your word over mine? Besides, do you really think I give a damn what a piece of trash like you says?”

Her hand flashed out but he caught her wrist before it connected with his cheek. He held her wrist so tight it hurt as he leaned down and looked at her eye to eye. Alex whispered, “I could make your life a lot rougher than you could make mine. So I suggest you think long and hard before you go and do or say something you might regret.”

Shaken, Eleanor watched him leave and it wasn’t until the door slammed behind him that she dared to move.

Out on the sidewalk, walking blindly, Alex plowed straight into Jazz. Catching him by the arms, Jazz took one look at Alex’s face and swiped the keys from him. “C’mon, buddy.”

“Get the hell away from me,” Alex snarled, shoving Jazz away from him. “Just stay the hell away.”

“You wanna pound on something, you might as well pound on me,” Jazz said, jamming the keys in his pockets. Jutting his chin out, he stepped closer, until they stood toe to toe. “You got a need to hit something, go ahead and hit me,” Jazz offered. “But I don’t think this is the place for it.” He turned his gaze onto the porch of the house Alex had just left, to the woman watching from the door, and the girl watching from her bedroom window, the younger with a cat’s smile, the elder with rage in her eyes.

Hands clenched into impotent fists, he stood there, quivering with rage. Without saying a word, he moved past Jazz and climbed into the passenger seat.

“She got rid of it,” Alex said as Jazz slid behind the wheel. “Went into Frankfort and had somebody cut the baby out. She killed it, all because I told her I wasn’t going to marry her.”

Jazz remained silent, unsure of what to say. With a flick of his wrist, he started the car. The Mustang’s powerful engine came to life with a roar, quieting down to a purr as Jazz shifted into gear and pulled away. As they drove off, he could feel the gazes of the two women they left behind.

Across the street, Sandy rubbed her hands over her arms, chilled despite the thick, hot air. Her eyes met the furious gaze of Eleanor Park before returning to watch as the taillights grew smaller on the horizon.

Come back
, she thought desperately, not knowing why.
Please come back.

* * *

“I was going to take care of her, Jazz.” They ended up down at the river with Alex killing the better part of a case of beer. They’d liberated it from Alex’s cousin who was conveniently out of town. Desmond Kincade would skin them both if he knew they had the liquor but right now, Jazz was more concerned about Alex than the old man.

“I know.” He knew Alex wasn’t really listening to him though. His friend had been going on for a while now and it didn’t seem like Alex was going to stop any time soon. Guilt sat in his gut like a heavy stone, because he couldn’t help but wonder if he wouldn’t be relieved, if he was in Alex’s shoes.

“Was I wrong? Should I have been willing to marry her?”

Jazz shot Alex a glare. “Hell, no. She fucked around on you when you two were together and she’d do the same if you got married. She treated you like shit half the time, treated your dad like shit half the time and treated Anne-Marie like shit all the time. Only person she doesn’t treat like shit is herself—do you really think that would change just cuz she was going to be a mother?”

Alex turned away, his hands jammed inside his back pockets, head down and shoulders slumped like he carried the weight of the world. “I wanted that baby.”

Now that was something Jazz didn’t know how to answer. He couldn’t even imagine being a dad. Much less wanting to be one. Wasn’t like he had the best role model, not after his dad died. Beau sure as hell wasn’t a good example. Jazz couldn’t remember ever holding a baby and he knew there was a lot more to it than just holding one. Especially if there wasn’t a mom in the picture. Maribeth wasn’t going to be the kind to change diapers. It would have messed up her manicure.

So instead of trying to say something to make his friend feel better, he just laid a hand on Alex’s slumped shoulder and squeezed. Alex wasn’t much in the mood for comforting. He shrugged Jazz’s hand away and stalked down to the river, staring into the murky, slow-flowing waters. After a long time, he looked back at Jazz, eyes dark and turbulent. “Why did she do it, Jazz?”

“I dunno, Alex,” he responded honestly. “That girl only knows one thing, buddy. Just like her momma, she looks out for herself and herself only.”

“It was my baby, too.” Tipping his head back, Alex sighed. He closed his eyes and muttered, “It ain’t right. Women’s rights be damned. It was my baby, too.”

“I know, buddy. I know.”

Hours later, they sat on the hood of the car. The beer was all but gone and Alex was drunk out of his mind. Still madder than hell, though. And hurt. It was the hurt that bothered Jazz the most. Nothing was going to help that but time.

Listening with a sympathetic ear, Jazz made all the right sounds and agreements as Alex rambled on. Jumping from Maribeth to her mother to the doctor in Frankfort, to Row vs. Wade and back all over again, he spoke, his words making sense only to himself.

Laying back, head pillowed on his hands, Jazz stared up into the dark sky. The moon, full and bright, danced in and out of clouds, casting its silvered light on the land. The music of the night sang in his ears, crickets, birds, occasional squeaks and squeals as the night predators caught their prey.

“Yeah, I know, buddy,” he responded when Alex said his name, knowing what he agreed to really didn’t matter, not when Alex was in this shape.

The keys hung forgotten in the ignition as Alex decided, “I oughta go knock her silly.”

That caught Jazz’s attention. “No way, buddy. You ain’t gonna go hitting a woman.”

“Ain’t no woman. She’s a cold-blooded little bitch.”

“Bitch or not, she’s still a woman, and you don’t go beating up women.” Even though Jazz wholeheartedly agreed that Maribeth Park had something coming her way.

“We could always sneak into her house while she’s sleeping and shave her bald,” Jazz suggested. “Put coconut oil into her bath stuff.”

“Maribeth’s allergic to coconut, gives her hives.”

“Exactly,” Jazz said, smiling as the edge started to leave Alex’s voice. “Or try putting some of that hair remover stuff, what’s it called? Nair? Try putting some of that in her shampoo.”

“Where the hell’d you come up with that one?” Alex asked, grinning as though he was considering how Maribeth would look bald.

“Anne-Marie,” Jazz replied, shaking his head. “That sister of yours has a devious mind. She read about that little trick in some magazine she shouldn’t be reading.”

A laugh echoed in the air and Alex flopped back on his elbows. “Yeah, that’s an idea. And we could pay Anne-Marie to do it, so we don’t end up in trouble. Even if she got caught, Daddy wouldn’t say much. He’d be too busy laughing.”

“I know. We’ll tell everybody ya’ll broke up after she slept with some guy in Lexington and got crabs. No guy is gonna touch her for weeks.”

“But it won’t bring that baby back, Jazz. Nothing will.” He buried his face in his hands. “I wanted that baby, Jazz. I really wanted it.”

Sitting up, Jazz laid a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, bro. God, am I sorry,” he whispered, squeezing tightly. When Alex’s arms closed around him, he just sat there, staring into the night, grieving for his friend, the brother of his heart, as Alex cried himself hoarse.

* * *

He came awake when the engine roared to life beneath his sleeping body. Dazed, staring up the star-studded night sky, it took Jazz a minute to figure out where in the hell he was. A quick glance told him that Alex had finished off the rest of the Miller and empty beer cans rattled under his feet as he slid to the ground. “Alex, what in hell are you doing?”