The Keys to Jericho (5 page)

Liberty leans over to say something to Rio, but without taking his cold stare off me, he shakes his head and whispers something in her ear. She then jumps up to allow him out of the booth. I grab a handful of my French fries and shove them into my mouth before I stand.

Dash sighs and pushes his plate away, shaking his head at the table. When Rio stands he snarls, “Go.”

As soon as we barrel through the front doors, Rio shunts past me and looks over his shoulder, nodding ahead for me to follow him. He leads me to the end of the building and around the corner, where there aren’t people standing around. Satisfied where we are, he spins around and is in my face.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Beckett? It’s like you have a screw loose or a short circuit!”

Doubtful, I take a step back and scoff, “What? Am I a fucking robot?”

He bleakly laughs. “No. A damn robot has more feelings than you do! Why are you so mean to Liberty?”

Now, I have to laugh. “
Mean
to her? I tried not talking to her so I didn’t have to be
mean
to her!”

“What the hell? What did she ever do to you? You barely even know her!”

“You call me a robot? You’re a goddamn puppet! She pulls your strings and you dance!”

He steps closer and I cross my arms, squeezing my fists, holding my ground. I don’t want to argue with Rio, but he brought this on himself.

I again take a step back and he shouts, “She doesn’t tell me what I can and can’t do! I
like
spending time with her. If you’re going to be pissed off at anyone, then be pissed at me!”

“She keeps you away from your friends! We never see you anymore! It’s not like she encourages you to ditch her or gives you
permission
to hang out with your friends!” I take a deep breath and slide both hands up into my hair underneath my hat, frustrated that he can’t see his girlfriend the way I do.

Slightly calmer, I glance around us before resting my gaze on his chest, unable to look him in the eye when I say, “Since I’ve known you, none of your previous girlfriends kept you away like this.”

Equally as composed, he replies, “Because I didn’t have feelings for them like I do for her.”

My breathing slams to a halt at the same time my stomach crashes, and I instantly look up to his face. “Oh, no.” I swallow and laugh, but not really laughing, as I turn away and shake my head. “No, no, no, Duquesne. Don’t you fucking say
it
.”

He dimly intones, “I’m in love with her, Jare.”

I explode. “Fuck! I told you not to say it!” Dropping my arms, I again cross them over my chest, and angrily suck in my bottom lip as I stare at the ground, disgusted by this new and disastrous development. Rio doesn’t say anything more. He just quietly watches me as I think of what to say.

Ultimately, I shake my head and look up at him. “Don’t tell me you believe in that shit, too. It’s bad enough with Dash and his lovelorn whining.”

With his hands on his hips, he glances at the ground and shakes his head with a weighty sigh. “Jare…”

Shit. I’m losing this.

“She’s only luring you in! You’ve got to fight harder!”

He crunches his face in puzzlement, squinting his eyes at me. “To not fall in love?”

I eagerly nod, trying to save him from crossing to The Dark Side. “Yes! Don’t give in! Just walk away.”

“Instead of falling in love? Are you serious?”

“Damn right I am! You don’t need that shit! You’ve only been with her a couple months!” He seems to contemplate that. I think I’m getting through to him.

Rio looks up at the roof of the covered walkway before crossing his arms, mirroring me. He whispers, “Fuck,” before looking back to me. We stare at each other in an odd standoff. The parking lot noises accentuate the awkward tension hovering around us. Rio and I never argue. It’s usually Dash and me fighting over something stupid.

I finally ask, “Have you told her…
that
…yet?”

“No.”

“Don’t do it, Rio. Once you say that word, it’ll be too late.”

The confusion is back on his face as he cocks his head. “Too late for what?”

“Too late to take it back. To stop it. If you change your mind about how you feel about her, you won’t be able to undo it. Those words will forever be hanging over you like a fucking plague.”

He adamantly shakes his head and speaks with unfamiliar fervor. “Jared, I can’t stop it. I don’t
want
to stop it. It was bound to happen for me someday.” His eyes fly over my face and he hesitates before saying, “Just like it should for you, if you let anyone get close enough.”

I frown and scornfully snap, “What the hell, Duquesne? Now you sound like fucking Dash.”

Straightening his arms out, he dips his left into his jeans pocket. “Don’t you ever want to fall in love with someone? As long as
I’ve
known you, you’ve never been in love.”

I turn away from him to look out over the parking lot, so tired of this conversation. “And I never will be. Who fucking needs that shit? It’s just an aggravation and if you break up, it’ll suck the life out of you, along with your bank account. No, thanks. I’ll pass.”

“That’s the risk I’ll have to take.” He props his hand on the brick wall, sighing. “What’s happened to you? It’s like you have some kind of vendetta to carry out. You’ve always been cool with me, but I’ve noticed that you’re a dick with women in general. Now Liberty. Why?” Fuck.

My arms remained locked against me, as if I’m really protecting myself from his disturbing observations.

I randomly watch people in a grocery store parking lot across the street as he waits for an answer. I shrug. “I’m not. Liberty and I just don’t get along.”

“It’s more than that. You don’t even have any women friends.”

I used to years ago, but when I wanted to step it up with her, she rejected me. I threw myself at her over and over, yet each time I tried, she pushed me away with a laugh. I kept trying, but you can only push on a redwood tree so much before you realize it’s not going to uproot from your meager efforts. I didn’t have more to give, so I walked away.

And it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I’ve never told anyone about her.

Rio continues, “As soon as a woman comes near you, your entire demeanor changes.”

Rejection is what my life has been all about.

I’ll never be at the mercy of a female again.

I glance at him and scoff, “Yeah. You should talk. If you had an invisibility cloak, you’d use it.”

“You become icy, Jare. You only thaw a bit when you want to use them.”

Stunned that he can see through me, I look away from him and wearily say, “I think you and Dash are smoking crack together.” This is why I don’t have deep conversations with Rio about this subject. He’s cutthroat.

“Deny it all you want, but you’re going to be alone if you keep being this way.”

Seeing a couple kissing and making me want to throw up, I turn back to Rio and sneer, “Because I really want to be put on a leash and dragged around.”

“I’m not! Jesus! I’m happy! Don’t
you
want to see me happy?”

“I do, but not when it comes down to you choosing her over Dash and me.”

He pounds the brick with his fist. “Can’t I have both? Why do I have to choose one or the other?”

“Well, that’s what it’ll end up being. She’ll make you get rid of us. Don’t you see how controlling she is?”

“
She
is? Look at you! You’re telling me who I can’t date! Who I can’t love! You’re trying to do the very thing you’re accusing Liberty of doing!”

Shaking my head, I insist, “No way. This is different. I’ve known you longer. I’m looking out for you!”

He steps closer and yells, “Don’t feed me that garbage, Jare! I don’t want you fighting with Liberty!” He closes his eyes and rubs the back of his neck. Taking a deep breath as he opens his eyes, Rio evenly says, “She’s not going anywhere. Get used to her.”

I swallow hard and challenge, “And if I can’t?”

He drills his eyes into me, but I hold my own. “I mean it.” He thinks
I’m
joking?

Letting my arms fall, I reach into my back pocket for my wallet, pulling out a 20.00 bill. Holding it between my index and middle fingers, I say, “Here. This is for my dinner.”

He doesn’t take the money. “Why? Where you going?”

“I can’t be in there right now. Dash will need a ride home.” When he doesn’t make a move to grab it, I shove the bill against his chest and as it falls. He catches it as it flutters down.

As I turn and walk back around the corner of the building, Rio yells, “Jared, come on!”

Ignoring him, I go straight to my car and angrily peel out of the parking lot.

If it’s not my dad, it’s my damn friends.

Fuck them all.

CHAPTER 3

“Jared I need you.”
The voice is familiar, yet so far away. I look around, but see nothing.

Suddenly out of nowhere, I’m pummeled with something soft. Confused, I turn, yet no one is there. I feel the back of my neck for blood or part of my brain exposed, but I seem to be okay.

“Jared!”

Jumping up, I sleepily look around through squinted eyes, disoriented by the light bouncing off the beige walls instead of the gray in my apartment.

“It’s about time, sleepyhead.”

I notice three pairs of my socks, rolled into each other, laying on the bed. Picking up a bundle, I look with perturbed astonishment to my dad standing in the doorway. “Did you throw these at me?”

He shamelessly nods. “I did. I had a hard time waking you up.”

“What time is it?” I crane my neck to look at my alarm clock, only to find it isn’t there. I guess that’s something I should’ve packed.

“It’s 9:40. Get up. I need you.”

Fuck, I have a headache. Ignoring him, I lie back down. This is my vacation. There’s no way I’m getting up this early, especially after a shitty night.

After leaving Rio, I drove around until I thought it was late enough that if my dad was still awake, he wouldn’t question why I was home so early. I managed to sneak in without running into him. He didn’t even notice my frequent trips to the refrigerator for more beer, taking two cans at a time and each trip louder than the one before.

Rio and I always get along and always have been close. I tell him things I don’t tell Dash because Dash is too…cheerful. Too optimistic. He doesn’t take my problems seriously and if he does, he brings up the astrology garbage. I just don’t understand how a female can change Rio. He’s dated before and he’s always stayed the same Rio. Not this time. This bitch has him blinded by her bullshit. He says I’m the one who’s changed, but I’m the same Jared Beckett as I’ve always been, maybe a little older and wiser, or just maybe a little wearier and more jaded. Still the same, regardless.

“Come on, Jared.” Dad clears his throat and says, “I see you had a rough night.” I take it he notices the beer cans on the floor and on the nightstand. “You better not have driven drunk.”

When I don’t respond, another soft wallop smacks my face.

“Hey!”

“Did you?”

I pull the blanket tighter over my head. “No!”

He sighs, seemingly satisfied that I’m telling the truth, which I actually am this time. “I need you to get up and dressed.”

I testily growl into the mattress, “What the hell for?”

“Watch it,” he scolds me like a child. Fuck me. I’d get more sleep on a park bench downtown.

I’m quiet, hoping he gave up on me and left, but hearing him sigh, I groan into my pillow. “Dad, can’t I sleep in? Whatever it is can wait.”

“No. I want your expertise there.” What the fuck?

“What
expertise
would that be? I have
so
much.” I laugh into my pillow, but it makes my head pound more.

“You’re good with a hammer. Now get up.”

My eyes pop open. What shit is he getting me into? I’m supposed to be relaxing and enjoying my time off before I start my new job. I knew he wouldn’t let me get off that easily, but my first day here? Jesus.

He declares, “My assistant Brenda’s house burnt down.”

I shift enough that I can see him without sitting up. “Uh, okay. Sorry to hear that, but wouldn’t it be better to call the fire department instead of me?” He laughs. Kind of odd, but whatever.

“You’re a structural engineer.” Wow. News to me.

“I’m glad you noticed.” I roll back over, burying my head into the blanket and saying a muffled, “Again. So? Not much I can do for a burning house.”

“No, it’s being rebuilt.”

Since it seems like he’s not going to leave without a compelling argument, I whisper a
fuck
before I grudgingly sit up and rub my eyes with the heels of my hands. “Dad, I design skyscrapers and bridges. I don’t work with houses.” They’re small potatoes. I’m in the big leagues.

With his hands on his hips, he nods while critically surveying my room again. “I know that, but you can help with the build.”

Jackpot. The reason for my convenient existence here.

I sigh. “That’s what contractors are for. Doesn’t she have one?”

“Yes. Her eldest son owns his own company, and he’s rebuilding the house. Since Brenda is my assistant, as well as a friend, I’ve been helping. The construction has just started and I’ve been helping after work and during the past couple weekends. It’s turned into a grassroots project of sorts.”

I sleepily nod, but not really interested in the most likely long, and definitely boring story.

He must read my mind because he shakes his head with a sad laugh, disappointment rearing its ugly, yet familiar head. “Jared, a handful of kindness can go a long way.”

Scratching my head, I heavily drop my hand to the bed in protest. “It’s a Saturday!”

“They’re working every day since it’s his mother’s house. He lets most of the crew off on the weekend, so that’s why it’s helpful to go over there now.” For the love of Christ.

“So, you only need me for today?” I cautiously ask, praying I’m not signing my entire vacation away.

He puts his hand on the doorknob and hesitantly admits, “Well, no. My vacation also starts today, so I’ll be over there every day for two weeks.” My mouth blatantly falls open in horror, and he takes that opportunity to kick me while I’m down. “And so will you.”

I pound the bed with my fist. “What?”

“Get the lead out, Jared. Doing charity work will make you feel better. It’ll also help speed things along.”

“I’m sure the builders are doing just fine without
me
.”

“It’s not just the physical help. It’s moral support, too.”

“I don’t even know your assistant!”

Dad drops his hand and firmly orders, “Jared Adam. Get up. Now.” Fuck. I hate when he does that.

He leaves the room, but warns from the hallway, “I’ll be back with a water gun filled with ketchup if you’re not downstairs in 10 minutes!”

For fuck’s sake.

“And make your bed and clean up the cans!”

Sighing and cussing myself out for not getting a hotel room in the first place, I rub my hands over my face and drag myself out of bed to get dressed.

And make my fucking bed.

Damn it to Hell.

Walking into the kitchen that my grandmother decorated with fucking roosters when I was five and hasn’t changed since, I round the table too fast and nearly lose the load of cans in my arms. As I stabilize the cans, I see Dad looking out the window over the sink, drinking coffee out of the
Rad Dad
mug I gave him when I was in 5
th
grade. I then notice a squirt gun on the counter. My mouth falls open as I glance up at his profile. “Are you serious?”

Before taking a sip, he asserts to the window, “As a stroke.”

I shake my head. “You have some serious issues, dude.”

“It was effective, wasn’t it?” I scowl at the back of his head as I go to the utility room to dump the cans into the recycling bin. After dropping several on the floor and cussing them out, I return to the kitchen and head to the refrigerator. Already, this day can go to Hell.

Opening the door, I see what’s left of my beer after last night’s chugfest-for-one, invitingly calling to me and I’m tempted to grab a can, but not with my dad as my damn guardian. I resentfully decide on orange juice instead, but before I close the door, I check for a chilled bottle of vodka to add to it. Sadly, yet as expected, there isn’t any, so I make a mental note to get some.

I drag my feet over to the counter, almost dropping the jug on the floor in my attempt at setting it down. In my peripheral, I see my dad turning to watch me; hopefully, deciding that I should stay home instead of playing Lincoln Logs with his lapdog assistant.

I grab a glass from the cabinet and groggily pour my juice as Dad rinses out his mug and asks, “Is that what you’re wearing?”

“What?” I look up from my glass, then down at my clothes, and back up to his peculiar expression. I’m wearing carpenter jean shorts, a gray tank top, an old flannel shirt with the sleeves torn off, a baseball cap, and old work boots. Nothing out of the ordinary. It’s usually what I wear fishing.

I raise a questioning eyebrow. “Is there a dress code?”

He chuckles and slaps my back, which is exceedingly jarring for this morning. “Nope. Just asking.”

Giving him a smartass smile, I sneer, “Well, that’s a relief. I thought I was getting cited by the fashion police.” I go to the cabinet where he keeps his Tylenol and grumble in frustration when I can’t open the childproof cap. After spewing more curse words, Dad takes the bottle from me and easily pops it open. I frown at his superior smile and shake two pills out of it.

“Why don’t you ask Dashiell to tag along? He’s on summer break.”

That would be excellent payback for last night’s antics.

I set my glass down, nodding. “Yeah. That’s a good idea,” I say with an eager laugh that is worth the painful surge in my head as I yank my phone from my pocket.

Fucking Dash doesn’t answer, so I text him with the address my dad gives me, threatening bodily and psychological harm if he blows me off. If I have to suffer, then so does Calder. He was all about including my dad and treating him all nice and shit. Well, here’s his chance.

Dad parks his truck in front of the house. It has a roof, so there’s that going for it.

I check my phone yet again, but no Dash. Fucker. I’ll drag him out of bed myself if he doesn’t answer me by noon.

I sit staring at my phone, hoping Dash isn’t going to leave me here by myself. This is going to be a whole shit ton of boring.

Rio hasn’t texted me, either. He’s probably waiting for me to text him first, but honestly, I don’t have anything more to say. I don’t need him getting all psychological on me again. I shudder at
that
thought.

A sudden, sharp knock on my window makes me jump 10 fucking feet in the air. “Jared, get a move on!” Fuck my life.

I let out a put-upon sigh and yank on the bill of my cap, lowering it so maybe I won’t be as noticeable.

As soon as I shut the truck door, Dad puts his arm around me and enthusiastically squeezes me to him, jostling my aching body and bad mood. “This will be fun. Put on a happy face.”

“Yeah.” When he lets go of me, I give him a sour look. “Did you drink the last of the booze this morning?”

He shakes his head with a laugh, smacking me on the back, most likely on purpose, harshly flaring my headache. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

I scoff, “I was here last night and this morning.”

“Not with me, though. You went straight to your room.” Fuck. Does he want me to punch in and out on a time clock? “Now we have some father-son bonding time.”

Son of a fucking bitch.

“Adam! Good morning!” A perfectly styled, longish-haired brunette and her big tits wave to us from next to a table with a drink cooler and white boxes. She cheerfully sashays over to us, way too enthusiastically for a Saturday morning. I want to kick my father’s ass for forcing me to be here.