Jett (17 page)

For about six months.  

Marie started hanging out with the neighbors, staying up late, partying and going out to bars with strangers.  She’d come home smelling like cigarettes and whiskey, until the time she came home smelling distinctly like Old Spice.  I followed her after that.  I saw everything she did.  I saw the disgusting way she kissed him.  The way she giggled when he opened the motel door.  I watched through the curtained window, their silhouettes smashing together like a couple of dirty pigs. 

Portland ruined her.

I waited till the next day, followed the man to a nearby bar, slipped a large amount of a crumbled up mixture of pain pills and muscle relaxers in his drink, and left him there.   I waited in my car until the ambulance showed up, and when I saw the sheet  had been pulled over his head as they carried his body outside, I wasn’t even satisfied.

I just wanted my Marie back.  But, deep down, I knew she would never be the same, so I left without a word.  I enlisted and within a week, I was on my way out of seedy Puddletown and into basic training.  

I hadn’t been back to Portland since.

I hated that Jett had to go there. For some reason her people thought it was a good idea to put my angel smack in the middle of that cesspool of sin.  

I was in agony.  She was just getting dirtier and dirtier, her raunchy nights escalating into an unforgivable filth that even God couldn’t overlook.  I had to save her.

First, I had to get her away from those disgusting men.  Then, I had to get her out of Portland.  If I could accomplish both of those things, I knew I could get close enough to her to cleanse her.

Driving to Portland had given me a lot of time to think.  It was a good thing, too, because by the time my car passed over the huge bridge going into the city, the rain was pouring in sheets over my car, completely distracting me from my thoughts.  I had to be careful.  Everything had to be perfect.  If not, if I couldn’t focus, if I got too overwhelmed, too excited, my plan could fail and I would be miserable.  And Jett would never be clean again. 

That just wouldn’t do.

I would have to work through the constant distraction pouring down on me, try to ignore the way it brought back the memories that I had tried so desperately to forget, they way it blocked my vision, the way it made me remember the dark nights of my childhood.  Luckily, I didn’t have to drive too far, and soon I was leaving my car with the valet at the Nines hotel.  

****

None of these people know her like I do.  They’re all standing around, their cameras pointed at her, as if they could ever capture even an ounce of her essence.  They’ll never know what she’s really like.  Not like I do.

Nobody could love her like I do.

All those songs she’s singing, every move she’s making on that stage, every perfectly timed strut from one side to the other -  I am the only one who knows those moves just as well as she does.  I’ve studied her, I’ve followed her.

I love her more than any of you! 

See the fake smile she gives you all as you clap and stomp and holler for her desperately?  None of it is real, but you all think it is.  You keep yelling her name, thinking she’ll come back again.  Idiots! As if she cares about you.  She doesn’t care about any of you.  

Right now, all she cares about is sinning.

But soon, very, very soon, all of that will change.

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

It’s all my fault.
 If I had never asked Colt to come help me, none of this would have happened.  If I hadn’t gotten drunk and insisted on teasing Colt to the breaking point, none of this would have happened.  If I had just run away from this god awful life a long time ago, none of this would have happened.

Instead, I had blood on my hands.  Blood of a good man that was brutally murdered while he was protecting me.  

As if that wasn’t bad enough, Colt and I didn’t hear a thing, because apparently we were fucking each other’s brains out while a man was being murdered outside of our door!  And how in hell could I have been so drunk that my mind would have blocked that out?  Something like that? Something that I’m sure was magnificent beyond my wildest dreams, and I barely remembered walking into the hotel lobby with him?

Everything after that was gone. 

It was pathetic.  I was pathetic.

I had never felt more ashamed of myself.  And I had done some shameful things.  More times than I cared to admit, I had woken up to someone I didn’t remember sleeping with.  That wasn’t the bad part.  The fucked up thing was that this time, it was Colt. 

My Colt. 

Beautiful Colt with the beautiful cock between his legs that had fucked me so masterfully that my brain couldn’t handle the pleasure, so it decided to stop recording.

Just my luck.  Just my stupid, fucked-up, perverted luck.

It was entirely too much.  

First, I heard Colt screaming, a mournful scream I will never be able to forget, and then, after I had come running to him, and seeing Jesse lying in a pool of blood behind him, and then meeting Colt’s pain-filled eyes - it was a scene that would haunt me forever.

I didn’t know what to do.  I felt everything all at once - terror, horror, disbelief, anger - and then in an instant, I broke.  It was too much, way too much - and all I could do to survive was shut down.  Otherwise, I would have died from agony right there on the spot.

As Colt and I tried to pull ourselves together, he turned away from me and walked out onto the balcony.  I listened to his angry muttering through a thick fog, everything playing out right in front of me, but not registering.  All I could think about was getting out of there. Escaping. Getting away from all this pain.

And there was only one place in the whole world that I knew of that I could go to.

I quickly dressed and packed my things, all the while staring at the rumpled sheets on the bed.  Our bed.  

If only I could remember.  If only I could go back in time, keep myself from drinking too much, then none of this would have happened.  It was all too late.  It was way past too late.

I walked out of the bedroom with my bags.  Colt was still on the balcony, his back turned to me, his head in his hands.  The door to the penthouse was open.  I could see Jesse’s boots poking out of the blanket Colt had placed over his body in the hallway.  My stomach churned as I walked past him, yet I made myself look down at his cloaked frame.

I shuddered, and quickly ran down the hall away from the horrible mess I had created.  I had no idea how to fix any of this.  I couldn’t fix it. There was no solution, except to remove the original cause.  And that was me.

Outside, I ran out into the pouring morning rain.  King was standing just under the awning, chatting with one of the valets.  When he saw me he smiled but his face fell quickly when he saw the look on my face.

“Ma’am, what’s wrong?” he asked.

“Give me your keys!” I said, my impatience rising, as I gestured to his waiting car.

“Ma’am, I’ll be happy to drive you anywhere you wa —,” he began pulling the keys out of his pocket and I snatched them from him.

“No!  I need to be alone!” I ran to the driver’s side, sank into the seat, started the ignition and put it into gear.  When I looked in the rearview mirror as I drove away, I saw Colt run out of the hotel, waving his arms, my name on his lips, but the sound of his voice was quickly carried away by the whipping rain.

I felt bad for him, I did.  But it was better this way.  It was better for everyone if I was out of their lives.

****

Thirty minutes later, I was headed East out of Portland, the rain falling so heavily that I could barely see ten feet in front of me.  I followed the signs to get out of the city, my memory of how to get to the cabin almost as foggy as the windows of the Lincoln.  

Semi-trailers flew past me on the highway, throwing up huge sheets of water into my windshield. As I gripped the steering wheel, tears ran down my face, not doing a lick to help with my vision.

Even though it was early in the morning, it was dark and grey outside, the clouds hanging low and forming an eerie mist that lingered over the thickly forested hills on either side of the interstate.

If I could find Highway 26, I knew it was a straight shot from there.  Luckily, the signs were clearly posted and I didn’t have to stop to ask for directions once.  

The scenery, what I could see through the rain, was beautiful, but it did nothing to lighten the load in my heart.  Jesse’s death was brutal.  I never imagined things to go this far.  I was bewildered and in shock.

I drove in a trance, my only goal was getting to the cabin, and then I would figure everything else out.  I would find the cabin, find someplace to get some supplies, and then I would hunker down and disappear from the world, for however long it took until I felt like I could face anyone again.

I hadn’t thought much past that.  I couldn’t.  I couldn’t bear to think about the look on Colt’s face.  I couldn’t even imagine what he must be going through, his brother brutally slain like that.  Because of me.  Because of a woman who couldn’t even remember making love to him the night before.

I wasn’t worthy of his friendship, let alone his love.  What had I been thinking? Once I was settled, I would call him, explain to him how sorry I was, and tell him to go back home.  To his club, where he belonged.  Far away from my poison.

As for me, as for the tour, my career, all those people that depended on me - I just couldn’t go there.  It was the last thing I could think about, because it was too painful. The guilt would engulf me completely if I thought about it, if I thought about them, all of them. There were so many.

No, I just couldn’t.  It was the only way to get through this day, this night.  Tomorrow, I would reevaluate everything.

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

When I hung up the phone, I sat down on the couch, my heart heavy, my soul filled with worry for Jett, anger and disbelief, despite Jesse’s covered body that lay ten feet away from me.

Once I realized Jett had left, I chased after her but I was too late.  It took everything I had not to punch out King right there on the sidewalk for letting her go.  Remembering Jesse’s body outside the penthouse door, I ran back upstairs, pulled his body into the room, and tried to keep my shit under control.

I tried to decide what I should do.  I had no idea.  The first call I made was to Rusty.  I hated giving him the news, hearing the pain in his voice when I told him about our fallen brother.  I apologized over and over, but he wouldn’t have it.

“Colt, you didn’t fucking kill him, goddammit, stop it!”

“But if I hadn’t left him out there, none of this would have happened,” I said.