Misplaced Innocence (31 page)

“Should I go in first?” Jared asked. She smiled at his patience; this wasn’t the first time he had offered. It must seem like such a silly thing to him, her inability to open a simple door. But it was far from the physical act that stopped her in her tracks; it was the emotional and physical disaster that lay within. She looked at the dust at her feet and pursed her lips.
 

“Just think,” he proffered, reaching out a warm hand to rest against the bare skin of her arm, “it’s over. That part of your life is completely and totally behind you. Forever,” Jared said with a crooked and sympathetic smile.
 

“Yeah” she mumbled. But memories of it were strewn about her whole house, around every corner of her mind.

She turned back to the door and braced herself for the overwhelming chaos she knew lurked behind its plain and comforting, if well-weathered, surface. She closed her eyes, grasped the handle and twisted without giving herself time to think. This was something she had to do for herself, to put it all behind her. This was closure. Closure is what they always say you need, and she was desperate to find it. Putting her house together again would be like putting her life together again. She tried to convince herself that this was a good thing, but so far, it hadn’t really been working. The creak of the door told her it had swung open, but she wasn’t ready to open her eyes. Then, she felt a warm wave overtake her as Jared wrapped a reassuring arm around her waist and another around her shoulders. She leaned back into him, accepting the physical support she suddenly needed quite desperately.

She counted to three, and before she could back out again, she opened her eyes.
 
She hadn’t remembered exactly how much of a disaster her house had been. That had, after all, been one of her lesser worries at the time of her kidnapping.
 

“Well,” Jared said with a sigh, “we have quite a day in front of us.” He pressed a sweet, chaste kiss to her cheek as he breezed by her and into the house, catching her hand in his and towing her behind. “Maybe quite a week,” she thought she heard him mutter.

They began in the kitchen, returning pots and pans to cabinets, sweeping broken dishes into the garbage, throwing out rotten food, and collecting cans and Tupperware.

“We don’t have to finish today,” Jared reminded her, watching her throw one thing after another into the gaping black trash bag.

“I know, but let’s try to get as much done as we can.” She offered him a weak excuse for a smile from the other side the overturned table. “I mean, who knows if we’ll get through the door again.” She’d meant it as a joke, but once she’d said it, it hung in the air and she swallowed hard. If she never had to come in here again, she would be one hell of a happy camper.

“I’m sure it will be easier tomorrow,” Jared smiled back reassuringly, before holding up a baggie that had once been filled with frozen chicken, and grimacing.

“So I guess,” he ventured, “I underestimated your situation. I have to say, I thought you were a little overreacting. Especially about that part with the pot.”
 

“Well, do you believe me now that we were both almost killed?”

“Yes; though I’m not sure I understand it all, even now after having lived it.”

“Well, didn’t they tell you? I mean, the FBI?” She asked, averting her eyes and picking up a book that had somehow made its way beneath the oven, the very corner peaking out in acknowledgement of her arrival. She wiped the dirt, dust, and dog hair away. Because who ever actually has time to clean beneath their oven?

“No, they didn’t. It was confidential. They made that pretty clear.”

“So you risked your life and you don’t even know why?”

“I guess I did.” He was watching her, and Charisma tried to not let him know that she knew.
 

“You’re insane, you know that?” She laughed sweetly and Jared smiled back. Those real smiles always caught him off guard. Though he had been noticing they were a more frequent occurrence than they once had been.
 

“Maybe so,” he said, sticking his hands in his pockets.

“I suppose I owe you an explanation then.”

“Well, maybe when you feel like it. Not now; one thing at a time.”

He turned and started to restock the cabinet with more dented cans of corn and beans than he knew had ever existed in Carlton. Charisma crept up behind him and slid her hands around his waist, placing a gentle kiss on the back of his neck. He grinned and turned within her embrace, pressing his mouth to hers.

“Don’t you worry about a thing,” he graveled in her ear, and she was comforted by the breath on her skin, “we are going to be just fine. This is just a piece of our past and all we have is our future to think about.”

~*~

Moonlight slipped through the curtain and fell across Scruffy while she napped sweetly on the sofa, her body rising and falling, a soothing, gentle rhythm. Since Charisma’s return, the dog had been nearly welded to her – her very own, personal shadow. Charisma stroked Scruffy’s big head lovingly as it lay in her lap. Her other hand gingerly held the long-cold mug of tea. Jared occupied the other end of the couch, his abandoned tea empty and on the coffee table. The television was on, barely audible, in the background. They had tactfully passed up “CSI” and “Law and Order” and had, after much debate, settled on “Friends.” It certainly wasn’t her first choice, and it wasn’t his. But compromise is compromise. The back to back episodes had long since lost their interest, and the conversation had dwindled until the pair lapsed into comfortable silence.
 

Charisma took another small sip of Chamomile and ran her hands through the curly hair of Scruffy’s ear. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her earlier conversation with Jared; it was appalling, remarkable, unnerving, endearing…the list went on and on, until she had to stop herself. That he would go through so much trouble, risk so much, and not even know why. Barely even know who it was all for.
 
It was enough to make her need something a lot stronger than Chamomile tea.
 

“So, I guess I never said thank you,” she finally ventured. Her voice seemed rough with disuse and strangely loud in the room. She took a gulp of tea in earnest, and was thankful for the semi-dark and the gentle glow from the television set.
 
“I mean it, though. Thank you for everything. I mean, everything.” She gestured wildly with the same hand that held the tea, tepid liquid slopping over the sides and splattering Scruffy and the sofa.
 
“The dog, the locks, letting me stay with you, the FBI.” It was just as she had imagined it would be – a regular hallmark card.
 

Jared held up a hand, as if he could stop Charisma’s thoughts as easily as he could stop her words. “Please. Don’t.”

She gave up on the tea and placed it beside Jared’s on the table. “I’m just sorry, that’s all.”

“Oh, really,” he stretched out a hand to slide it through her dark hair. “You don’t need to say thank you. You don’t need to apologize. I’d do it again.” He flashed her another crooked grin, and she was glad to see it. In the dark she could see the night-time shadow of a beard, and she had the distinct memory of how it would feel as it scratched against the skin of her neck. “But you’re welcome.” There was another pause, and Charisma focused more intently on the tangle of hair behind Scruffy’s ear. “It must have been really lonely, never wanting to get close to anyone … not wanting to get them involved.”

Charisma swallowed hard. It was too close to the truth. “I suppose.” She tucked her legs more tightly beneath her.
 
“It was my friends that got me into this whole mess in the first place. You can’t blame me for not wanting to be close…to anyone. I have to go back to give a deposition in a week. I might as well practice talking about what happened, if you want to hear it.”

“If you’re ready.”

“I think I am. Or at least, there will never be a better time than now. I don’t even know where to start.”

“You might as well start with John Daniel. Who is that guy?” There was an awkward riff of laughter, and then the same silence settled around them.

“They wouldn’t tell you?”

“No. And nothing I said could make them talk. Frankly, it put me at a disadvantage, what with pretending to be the man and everything.” He threw in a grimace and they laughed again, this time a little more comfortably.
 

“He was my boyfriend.” She ventured after a moment of pregnant silence. A bitter scowl marred her face. “Some boyfriend, too. He was a local politician, but he owned the night club where I worked.” She looked away and shrugged her shoulders. “I needed the money to get through school and I knew it wasn’t going to be forever. It paid well and didn’t interfere with my class schedule. I had plenty of studio time. He would have never gone beyond county government, but he had that easy way those politicians have. You know, where they can make you believe whatever they say. Politicians and car salesmen, I guess. Boy was I young then.” She frowned, and the smallest hint of wistfulness fled through her features. “I thought he was it. This was my Cinderella story. I’d been waiting my whole life for it to happen, and then it did.”

“I can’t really imagine you in that whole scene.” Jared trailed off, as if there were more to say, and he just couldn’t find the words.
 

“Oh, stop judging, you know I was a hostess. And you know I was just trying to pay my bills. Anyway, he wasn’t just the owner, he was a front for a mafia operation. Of course, the mafia took a huge cut of the club’s earnings, and spent a lot of money on the girls there. He was lying about the income though, taking money that the mafia said was theirs, and using it to further his political campaign. God, he was the golden boy of New Jersey, and it never occurred to anyone that he was in so deep. Here I thought I was some princess who had managed to find her Prince Charming.” She laughed, an angry, bitter laugh. “When I found out, I said I was leaving him. I didn’t want to be a part of it. I was about to start my new perfect life as an artist. But he convinced me to stay, that he could give me the life I always wanted, and that if I left him I would have to pay rent and be totally alone. I felt trapped, but I thought I had time to think over what to do. That was a week before….”

She took a sip of tea that seemed more like a swig. Jared wondered if she even tasted the long-cooled liquid.
 

“He got away with it for a while, but really, it was inevitable. When the mob found out…I mean, what do you expect? It was almost five in the morning and things had started to cool. We were shutting down for the night. The customers were long gone and the girls and I had wiped off our makeup and put on our jeans.
 
It was winter, and it was cold. I remember, I was wearing my favorite scarf. One of the other girls had made it for me, and it was the most perfect shade of teal. She said she’d seen the yarn and couldn’t stop thinking it would look great against my skin.” She laughed again. “We were all artists of one type or another.

“We were leaving, and one of the mobsters followed us out. I’d seen him around before but I didn’t know his name. He was one of those guys that would just watch you. Like you were available for purchase. I tried to ignore the ones I thought would only bring me trouble. Of course, I also didn’t want to ruin my tips… He told John they knew about the skimming, and they wanted it all back. John denied everything, even when the gun was waving in front of us.”

Charisma had a faraway expression on her face; her eyes were moist and glazed over. He could see the nightmare replaying in their depths.
 

“I was scared and confused. I knew John was working with them, but I didn’t know he was stealing from them. I didn’t know who to believe, but I did know that gun had to be loaded. I couldn’t even feel the cold then. I begged for John to just give the money back, to say he would even if he hadn’t taken it in the first place. He cracked me and told me to shut up. I must have cut my lip on my tooth, and I could taste the blood, and I shut up. The man reached out for me, and John shoved me to the ground, yelling that I should be left out of it. That’s when Donna walked out of the building. She was tired, but smiling. Leaving was the best part of our day. She was young, maybe 18. I think she’d dropped out of high school. God, strip clubs are disgusting.” Charisma shook herself out the trance and looked accusingly at Jared, like what she really meant was that men were disgusting. He didn’t respond to the accusation, and the sympathy in his eyes reminded her that not all men were that way.
 

“She was a nice girl; I liked her. Rough childhood, like all of us. But she was planning on getting out. She was clean, and she had big plans. We talked a lot.” Charisma took a deep breath, as unbidden memories, long suppressed, flowed back to her. She looked down at Scruffy, then up at the ceiling, blinking furiously while Jared stayed respectfully quiet.
 

“Anyway, he grabbed her. I think she dropped her cell phone, and I remember it split in two and skittered into the dark. We were all just outside the back door, in an alley. She screamed, but he just snarled and jammed the gun against her head and she got real quiet and was just whimpering. I started to yell. I was just crying, asking John to do something but I got quiet too when he said if I didn’t he would shoot Donna. John finally agreed that he would settle with the mob, that he only needed to get his checkbook out.

 
“He was writing this enormous check and saying that he would have to speak with whoever was in charge about the actual cost, when sirens blasted around us. I don’t know. They scared Donna, I guess, and she jerked away, and he just, he fired the gun, and she, she just fell. And there was blood everywhere. And there was screaming, and it was me, and I didn’t even know. She didn’t even move. She just lay there. I couldn’t see her face, but her hair was turning dark. There was so much blood.

“Then there was a sudden rush. The door flung open, and others started screaming too. Someone ran out toward her, and John grabbed me by the hand and dragged me down the alley. I was falling behind; I couldn’t stop looking over my shoulder. The girls weren’t standing there alone long. Mafia men were suddenly pouring out into the alley. It was a lot of noise. I lot of yelling, shoving, crying. I ran halfheartedly down the twisted alleys, following John. I really just wanted to sit down on the ground and cry. Vomit.
 
John knew he was in a lot of trouble, and he was furious – at me, and the mob, at everyone but himself. I was furious at him; I blamed him for that, for Donna. I told him I never wanted to see him again. He said that was fine. And he left me there, next to a whole bunch of cardboard boxes and trash. I stayed there for a while. I hid there, I mean, and just waited. I thought they would come back for me. I’d seen everything.”