“Yeah, I think?”
Charlie throws herself onto the couch and sighs. “I mean, like, I can’t even explain him to you. He’s funny and he graduated early. Apparently, he’s been working here for a while and just graduated two years ago. I asked if he had a roommate and he said he did, so basically I’m going to loop you into another double date now that you’re no longer sleeping with Evans.” She makes a face. “Good riddance to that loser.”
I nod. “Right? He stopped by tonight in a lame and embarrassing way to get me back into his bed, he confessed his undying love. “
“He’s an idiot.” She jumps to her feet and walks over to the kitchen then jerks open the fridge door and grabs a bottle of water. “I hope you kicked him in the nuts.”
“Nah, but the entire interaction was exhausting.” I leave out Jude. I’m still too confused and shaken up. “So, I think I’m going to go to bed early.” I don’t have his number or I’d text him. What I will do is an extensive internet search since I could barely do it before.
“Nooo…” She strides toward me and pulls me into a sweaty hug. “You promised we’d binge watch Yellowstone! I’m the only one in the universe who hasn’t finished yet.”
“Dramatic?” I laugh but it feels hollow. “And watch it without me.” I fake yawn so I can escape and focus. “I really am tired anda bit traumatized. He was drunk and he peed his pants.” I leave out why. “Like, that drunk.”
“Ewwww!” She makes a face. “Okay, you win, go to bed like a ninety-year-old woman.”
“It’s nine,” I point out. “Hardly early bird dinnertime.”
“Nothing wrong with eating early if you go to bed late,” she says. “Anyways, go, go,” She grabs her phone and lets out an ear splitting squeal. “Holy shit hot guy from my run just texted. He wants us to get drinks this weekend at Tom’s Garage. Please say yes! He’s bringing his roommate! Please, please, please!”
I don’t want to go. Today has been a massive cluster knot of a day. First Evans, then Jude, or was it first Jude? Either way, my ex best friend is back from the dead, that’s enough to send me into shock for weeks. I feel like I can’t get warm, and then I’m suddenly hot. I’m terrified of what it might have had to do with the trial, and while I need to look everything up and figure out what’s going on, I’m even more terrified of finding out the truth. I’d rather duck my head in the sand, but isn’t that what got me in this position in the first place? Choosing to do exactly that? Choosing to look the other way and fabricate something to protect myself and to protect Jude? Look where that got us. Him dead, or so I thought, and now me, still needing intense therapy.
I can’t show weakness. I need to believe it just as much as I need others to believe it. I’m better. Everything’s great now. Except what good did it do now that Jude is here? My carefully constructed reality is going to come crashing down if I let him into my life again. Look what happened last time. His family is too powerful and clearly shady as hell if they’re going to cover up something like this. Granted, what happened back then was big enough without adding in a fake death and prison. No matter how I look at it, it doesn’t make sense unless something else happened. What about his mom?
I still had her number. She liked me. I liked her. I felt like I could trust her. I almost text her but hold back, what do I even say,hi your son and I used to be best friends, you made really great cookies, thought he died but surprise he’s here, what the hell?
Does it even matter anymore now? He’s known I’m here for years and never came, he never sought me out. It’s like the minute I testified and did his family a favor he cut me off. It was self-defense! His dad said since he was a minor it was more important that he protect the family and that if I didn’t take their side. My entire body goes numb thinking about that night. My dad just had to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, desperate for money. The perfect scapegoat, if only he’d told me he’d been working for their family while being an adjunct professor. He barely made enough to put food on the table and was constantly applying to universities but it was never enough so when Jude’s dad offered him random jobs, he took them. If only people didn’t keep secrets. But there were so many coincidences and yet you’d think it was a perfectly formed just in plan that his dad had enacted. Like he’d already thought of every potential way things could go wrong and had a way to fix it just in case they did. I wonder if Jude even knows how evil his own father was.
So why now? What does he want from me? Revenge? Does he really not know that I thought he was dead? See what’s what I need to talk to him about, maybe if he knew, if he knew we could be friends again, then again he has to, for all I know he was part of the plan to begin with!
I don’t have to ask myself if he’s that diabolical, the answer is yes, after all, he has reasons to snap, more reasons than most at least.
Seeing him again, seeing his face, smelling him—it’s something I’ve dreamed about, but every dream switches to a nightmare when I see his crestfallen face in court.
“And you say Mr. Jude Hale acted in self-defense to protect you?” the lawyer asked.
“Yes.” I lied. “He protected me from both intruders, had he not been there, I wouldn’t be here.” It was Washington State, it was his property, he wouldn’t go to prison for self defense, his dad promised. If they found any fault with Jude, it would be that he had the possession of a firearm while underage. It wouldn’t be a big deal. My dad, having an actual record, however, would and since it wasn’t his house, it was no longer self defense. Mr. Hale couldn’t take the fall for shooting intruders because then according to him, they’d dig into everything else he was doing. The only way was if I lied about what I saw that night when I ran down the stairs before Jude. No matter what, Mr. Hale would walk away clean even though it wasn’t self-defense. Not the way I saw it. Both men weren’t even armed. But that was just another secret I’d take to my grave. Because how would it help Jude now? How would it have helped anyone then?
My mind flashes to Jude’s bedroom that night“….you’re the only one I trust.” He laid on my bed and stared up at the ceiling. “I can’t believe you’re the only one I trust and I’m staring at a Justin Bieber poster.”
I laughed and curled against him. “Yeah, well, I’m too short to take it down and I feel like it’s the end of an era if I do.”
“Then Bieber stays.” Jude whispered. “Thank you by the way, for letting me tell you this, life has been shitty enough lately with my parents constantly fighting. I swear they’d just be happier if they got a divorce.”
“Have you told them that?”
“Multiple times. But mom says it’s not that easy for people like them, what the hell does that even mean? People like them?”
I didn’t say anything because according to my mom, people like them meant people who did unsavory business deals in even more unsavory places and then used money to manipulate people and outcomes they wanted. They weren’t part of a crime syndicate, but they were something worse. The big bad wolf hiding in plain sight. Jude just said that’s how business happened when we were little, but in high school it was harder and harder to shield me from men coming in and out of his house which is why we started hanging out at mine when we had to study. The term mafia was never used, but I realized it was like fight club, you just didn’t talk about it, because if you did, you’d end up dead.
His entire family was known around Seattle for having a monopoly on everything that had to do with commercial real estate near the water. They owned every pier, every warehouse, several hotels, and just recently decided to get into the weed business. It wasn’t hard to make the guess what they were using the ports for and what exactly they were moving. It seemed like everyone knew but everyone looked the other way, which meant his stretch was far, and probably included public officials. He was not a man you said no to. He was a man who was used to using money to apologize, ask permission, and make things go away.
Anyone with a minimal amount of logic knew. He was my best friend though so I figured if he wanted to talk about it he would. If he wanted to put on rose colored glasses then dig his head into the sand and say his dead liked to sell fish then who was I to argue that he moved drugs? When you’re friends like that, the privilege in having a person who knows your soul is that you don’t have to ask questions and you don’t have to giveanswers, not until you’re ready. , I vowed I’d be his shield even if he said he didn’t need it.
“Hey,” Jude stared me down, his blue eyes so intense I wanted to cry. “I lost you there for a minute, you okay?”
“I should be asking you that. Sorry, just thinking thoughts.”
“Oh, is that all?” He placed a hand on my hip then moved it lower. “Same.”
