Nets and Lies (22 page)

I’ll be honest. Since the night I first met Nick, I thought about him way more than I should have. I started looking forward to work more and more because I knew he’d be there. And then when I started getting butterflies in my stomach whenever I was around him, I totally and completely freaked out. So much that it sent me googling ‘sex addiction’ and ‘codependency’. I mean, how screwed up was it that I was incapable of swearing off guys? It hadn’t even been a whole month since my affair with Coach T, and here I thinking about another guy.

That’s when I decided Mom was right, and I needed therapy. I wanted to find out why I still couldn’t man up to tell the authorities I had lied or why depended on a man so much.

Manny interrupted my thoughts by shoving a plate of linguini in front of me. “Hey! Wake up and get this to table ten.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I grumbled.

As I turned to head over to my station, I almost collided with Nick. “Easy Jo-Jo, where’s the fire?” he asked, giving me his signature grin.

“Just the usual Manny fire,” I replied.

He chuckled before heading over to the undesignated “Senior Citizen Section”. He always made a point to come out of the kitchen to talk to the regulars. He was especially sweet to this one cute little old lady named Mrs. Santoriello who had sort of adopted him as a grandson.

As I waited on the tables in my station, bits and pieces of their conversation floated bacl to me. I almost dropped some plates of lasagna when Mrs. Santoriello asked, “Don’t you have a girlfriend, Nicky?”

I held my breath as I strained to hear his response. The customers waiting on their food gave me an odd look. “Oh, sorry,” I said, putting the plates down.

“Nope, no girlfriend for me.”

“And why not? A handsome young man like you should have a string of admirers.”

I could almost feel Nick’s cheeks reddening.

“Jordan,” Mrs. Santoriello called.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Can you tell me how it’s possible Nicky doesn’t have a girlfriend?”

I opened my mouth, but nothing would come out. Nick ducked his head and jammed his hands in his pockets. Since I was never one for being speechless, I fought to find my voice. “I don’t know, Mrs. Santoriello.”

She shook her head at my response. Just as I was about to turn to go refill glasses, she clapped her hands together. “I know! Nicky, you should date Jordan!”

Now it was my turn to blush. Jeez, not only was I
never
speechless, but I most certainly never blushed—not until I’d met Nick. “Well, Jordan and I are good friends,” Nick replied.

Mrs. Santoriello was undaunted. “But lots of relationships start out as friends. Take my late husband and me. We lived two houses down from each other our whole lives, and as children, we played together every afternoon. Then in high school, we were still good friends until this one Sadie Hawkins dance. I had no one to ask or go with, so I asked him.” She closed her eyes, reliving the happy memories. “We had our first kiss that night—right after we both admitted how we really felt about each other.”

I glanced over at Nick. He was smiling at Mrs. Santoriello. When he caught me looking at him, he winked. It was my turn to duck my head.

“That’s a very sweet story,” I murmured. Before she could say anything else, I hightailed it back over to my customers to see if they needed anything.

I had just grabbed up a pitcher of sweet tea when I saw Detective Pendley standing in the doorway. I skidded to a stop. Just like I’d been avoiding Mom pressing me to go to the authorities, I’d also been avoiding any contact from the detectives or my lawyer. I just wanted everything to go away and forget that I had ever cried rape against Coach T. I was ridiculous to think I could just wish it all away. I’d created too much of a shit storm for that.

I strolled as nonchalantly as I could up to Detective Pendley. “Oh, hey, how are you?”

He forced a smile. “I’m doing better now that I’m finally able to see you.”

Damn, I’d been busted. “I’m sorry. With changing schools and all, things have been pretty hectic.” Trying to change the subject, I asked, “Would you like a table or booth?”

“Is there any specific reason why we’re no longer able to reach you on your cell or home phone?”

“Well, we had the numbers changed because of the threats I’d been receiving.”

Detective Pendley arched his eyebrows. “It would have been nice of you to share your new numbers.”

I glanced away from his intense stare. “Look, I’m sorry. I’ve just had a lot on my mind.”

“I came by today to update you on the case.”

“Actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to you as well.” I tried desperately to fight the fear creeping over me.

“Melanie Reeves has been hospitalized the past week after suffering a nervous breakdown.”

My hand flew to my mouth. “Oh my God, what happened?”

“She admitted to being raped by Mark Thompson.”

The pitcher of tea slid from my hand and smashed onto the floor. Ignoring the mess and the looks of shock from the other customers, I said, “She finally came clean?”

Detective Pendley nodded. “Her admission changes everything. It’s practically a slam dunk case now.”

“Wow, that’s great,” I murmured.

“I just thought you’d like to know.”

I didn’t know what to say or do, so I bobbed my head. “Um, yeah, I’m glad you came by. I’ll have my mom call your office with our new numbers.”

Smirking, Detective Pendley said, “I suppose with this news you won’t avoid me or McKay anymore?”

“No,” I whispered. After he breezed through the doors, I exhaled noisily. Nick appeared with a mop and started cleaning up the tea. “Oh no, let me do that. It was all my fault.”

“It’s okay, Jordan. I got it. Just get back to your customers.”

Somehow I made it through the rest of my shift. It was like I was on auto-pilot while taking orders and filling drinks. My mind couldn’t think of anything but Melanie and her breakdown.

When I was almost done closing up, I went in search of Nick. I found him in his usual spot out on the steps.

“Got a smoke?”

He grinned as he dug into his pants pocket. He passed me one of his standard Marlboro Lights. “Hey moocher, last time I checked, you work just like I do.”

“Nah, I’d much rather depend on the kindness of strangers for my smoking habit,” I replied, bringing the cigarette to my lips.

As Nick leaned over and lit my cigarette, I couldn’t help but hold my breath. Something about having him that close just sent me tingling from head to toe. And of course, that induced a guilt trip.

When he extinguished the lighter flame, he said, “Dude, anyone who can quote Tennessee Williams can bum smokes off me anytime.”

I eased down on the concrete steps beside him. “You’ve read
A Streetcar Named Desire
?”

“Hell yeah.” I guess my face must’ve registered some immense surprise because he snorted. “This may shock you Jordan, but I do have other talents besides being the best Italian cook in a fifty mile radius!”

I laughed. “Yeah, yeah, I know that, smartass. It’s just I didn’t take you for someone who was a big reader.”

Nick cocked his head at me, and I winced. “Damn. I’m sorry. That so did not come out right.” Staring into his blue eyes, I couldn’t control the further word vomit when I said, “I mean, I’m only reading it because we have to in school.” I sighed. “Jeez, you always make me say the wrong things. I get so tongue-tied around you.” Oh Jesus. Did I actually just say that to him? I wished for the parking lot to open up and swallow me from the epic embarrassment.

Flicking the ashes to the ground, Nick took another drag on his cigarette. “You don’t impress me as the type of girl who gets nervous around a guy.”

“Trust me, I’m usually not,” I protested through a cloud of smoke.

“Then why do
I
make you nervous?”

My breath hitched in my chest. “Because I’ve never met a guy like you before.”

“Hmm, I’m not sure whether to take that as a compliment or not.”

“Coming from me, you really should.”

Nick leaned forward. “And just how do you see me, Jordan?”

“You’re all rough around the edges and hard core, but you’re much more than that. You’ve got such a tender side and a good heart. I mean, like the way you’re around Mrs. Santoriello.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Oh whatever. She’s a sweet old lady. Anyone would want to be nice and do things for her.”

I shook my head. “No, they wouldn’t, especially most guys.” Staring down at my hands, I added, “I’m not even sure I really would.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yeah, it is. You don’t know the real me, Nick. And trust me, if you did, you wouldn’t like her cause most days I don’t.”

Nick extinguished his cigarette on the pavement and then turned to stare into my eyes. “Jo-Jo, we’ve already established I was a homeless drug addict a year ago. You want more of my sad story to convince you that you’re a saint? My mom left home when I was eight because my dad used to beat the hell out of her. Then I guess the crazy bastard felt guilty because he started drinking more and more until he literally drank himself to death two years later. Then I pinged around to several different foster homes, two of which were pretty much the bowels of Hell.”

His voice choked off, and he shook his head. “I’ve done horrible things to get drugs and booze—things that make me shudder just thinking about. So trust me, I’m sure there isn’t anything you could say that would make me hate you.”

Tears filled my eyes. Before I could stop myself, I reached over and wrapped my arms around him. “I’m so sorry, Nick,” I murmured into his ear. “You shouldn’t have had to go through all that.”

When I pulled away, he forced a small smile to his lips. “I’m not after your pity—just your friendship.”

I knew he had just unburdened himself with something really heinous, and the only way to level the playing field would be for me to share my story. I started trembling all over at the thought of finally coming clean with him. Hearing about what had happened to Melanie made me want to tell the truth now more than ever. I didn’t want to be like her—to have lies drive me crazy until I broke in two. But I feared that Nick would hate me for messing up a man’s life.

I stared down at the pavement. “Nick?”

“Hmm?”

“I-I want to tell you my story.”

When I glanced up, he was staring intently at me. “Are you sure?”

I nodded.

“Okay,” he said, as he took one of my hands in his.

I drew in a deep breath and let it all out. First, I told him how my dad had walked out when I was five. Then I told him about Carson beating me and the abortion I had a fifteen. Finally, I admitted my affair with Coach T and how I’d lied about being raped to punish him.

After I finished with every sordid and disgusting detail, my chest felt like it might cave in.

We sat in silence for a few minutes. I fought the mortification that I’d actually admitted what I’d done. Rocking back and forth, I glanced at Nick to survey his reaction.

“Damn,” he murmured.

Oh God. He hated me. I’d told him the truth, and now he hated me just like everyone else. I sprang up from the ground. “Jordan, wait!” he cried. He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me back down beside him. When I dared myself to look at him, I found instead of the horror stricken look I imagined Nick’s expression was one of understanding. “Regardless of what you’re imagining in that head of yours, I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t.”

He shook his head. “I just needed a minute to process what all you told me.”

“And?”

“I won’t lie and say I’m not shocked because I am.” He pushed a strand of hair out of my face and tucked it behind my ear. “It’s hard for me to fathom the Jordan standing before me would do something so awful and so hurtful.”

Tears stung my eyes. “I know,” I murmured.

“But that’s the old you, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then we can bury the Old Nick and Old Jordan.”

“I want too. I really do,” I cried.