Bad Wolf Page 14

  What am I doing? What do I think Octavia will tell me? God…

  I turn to leave, but the door opens, and Octavia calls my name.

  Turning back around, I paste a smile on my face. “Tati. How are you? How is Bean?” I nod at her belly, and oh my god, it’s enormous. I try not to gawk. “All good?”

  “We are. Come on in.” She leans in and I kiss her cheek, then walk inside the warm and cozy house she and Matt keep. “The kids are at their grandma’s. It’s just us.”

  “Oh good,” I say, distracted as she waddles toward the living room. “Is Bean behaving?”

  She and Matt decided they don’t want to know the gender of the baby, who therefore has no name, so I named him or her Bean. I think it’s perfect.

  “Yeah. Getting too crowded in there, I think.” She settles down gingerly. “Now talk to me. You got me so worried. I thought something bad had happened.”

  “Sorry,” I say again and sit across from her, in one of the armchairs. “I honestly didn’t mean to alarm you. Something’s on my mind, that’s all, and I wanted your opinion.”

  “About what?”

  “About Jarett.”

  “That’s not a something,” she mutters, leaning back, wedging a cushion behind her with a sigh. “Jarett… isn’t that the guy you had a crush on a couple of years back?”

  Okay, so everyone and their grandmother knew about that. Go figure.

  “I don’t really know anything about him, Gigi,” Octavia says, more quietly. “Not more than you do, anyway. Let me see… He lived in our old neighborhood. He was adopted, I think? Had a stupid shit of a brother. You often walked with Jarett home from the bus stop. You had a crush on him. Have a crush on him, from the look of things.”

  I roll my eyes. “I like him, okay? But here’s the thing. He’s a bit of a douche sometimes... and Merc told me Jarett’s in a gang—”

  “Oh God.” Octavia pales. “Gangs are dangerous.”

  “I know that.”

  “And if he’s acting all douchey with you…”

  “Not always.”

  Now it’s her turn to roll her eyes. “Are you listening to yourself? ‘Not always?’ And that’s good enough for you? A guy who treats you well sometimes, but is mostly an asshole to you?”

  I cringe. “It’s not like that…”

  “Then what is it like?”

  “He’s… an ass sometimes, true. But other times he’s the Jarett I knew. Concerned, and nice.”

  She sighs. “When he’s trying to get into your panties?”

  “I, uh.” My face warms up.

  Her brows go up. “He’s already dipped his hand in the cookie jar?”

  “Stop it.”

  “Stop what? Okay, okay.” She lifts her hands in a placating gesture. “What exactly does he do when he’s being an ass?”

  “He gets all upset sometimes for no clear reason.”

  And he makes me go down on him. Although I want it. Want it too much.

  But I can’t tell her that. God, no.

  “Okay… and when he’s not being an ass?”

  “What do you mean?” I frown, lost in thought.

  “Give me an example of how nice he is, so nice he makes you forget all the other times when he’s being a jerk.”

  “He, um… He protects Sydney when she gets into trouble.” At Octavia’s widening eyes I backtrack. “Protected her. Once. When she got caught in a fight. Wrong time, wrong place, okay? And… he gave me his number in case I ever need help.”

  “Come on, Gigi, that’s not much to go on.”

  “His brother,” I blurt out. “He told his brother off when he tried to force himself on me in a club.”

  “Force himself on you? Jesus, Gigi. Why didn’t you say something?” Octavia presses a hand to her belly, her mouth a hard line, and I rub at my mouth, angry at myself for worrying her, even if it wasn’t my intention.

  “Oh God,” I whisper. Clear my throat. “Look, nothing happened. His brother probably just wanted a kiss and a grope, okay? And before you tell me I’m grounded or something—because by the way I’m not five anymore, Tati, just FYI—I don’t go to seedy clubs, and I don’t go alone, so drop the lecture. Nothing has ever happened to me.”

  Liar.

  “Anyway,” I rush on, “the thing is… Jarett’s so, so very nice sometimes. Protective. Sweet. And…” I swallow hard, my face burning hotter. “And sexy.”

  Octavia frowns. “Gigi…”

  “Not every gang member is a criminal. I bet it’s bad influences, right? His brother, he’s a bad influence. Worst of the worse, you can’t get worse than—”

  “Gigi. Stop talking.”

  I stop.

  Ringing silence fills my ears.

  Octavia is watching me intently, her forehead creased. She sighs. “Look, I don’t know what to say. Sorry. I’m not the right person to ask about this.”

  “Of course you are. You’re my sister.” I twist my hands together. “Come on, Tati… I could really use your advice.”

  “Then stay away from him.”

  I huff in frustration. “I can’t.”

  “So here’s the thing. You don’t want my advice. Not really. No, Gigi, listen.” She lifts her hand to silence me. “You want me to tell you you’re right. That he can be saved. That he’s worth it.”

  “Isn’t he?”

  “I don’t know that.”

  “Please, sis. Throw me a bone here.”

  Her mouth tightens. “Okay. Let me tell you one thing I’ve learned: if you really believe he’s worth it, then don’t listen to me, or anyone else.”

  I fold my arms under my boobs and glare at her harder. “Oh, come on.”

  “I’m serious, Gigi. You don’t want my opinion, because you know more than I do about him. You’re confused because you see things I don’t. You experienced him in ways I haven’t, and that is important. With Matt it was the same. You and everyone told me to steer clear of him, remember?”

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper, shame flooding me. “My advice was crap. Matt is wonderful.”

  “That’s exactly the thing. You didn’t know how wonderful he is. He didn’t let others see. But I’d seen the other side of him, the one he was hiding. And deep inside of me I knew he wasn’t who everyone thought he was. That the front he showed to the world was a defensive wall, and that only I could see past it to the real him. Maybe that’s what’s happening with Jarret.” She shrugs. “Maybe that’s what’s happening with you.”

  Is it? How do I know?

  “You always seemed so sure of yourself,” I whisper. “So sure of Matt, from the start.”

  “But the truth is that I doubted myself, and him, until he proved himself to me. By changing. By putting me first. Until then, I wasn’t sure at all.”

  I wave a hand at her to silence her. “Jesus, stop. You’re killing my older-sister cult here. You’re supposed to know everything. I used to sacrifice imaginary goats at your altar.”

  Octavia snickers.

  I mull over all this. So my sister isn’t omniscient, can’t read minds and can’t foresee the future. Shocking. Where do I go from here?

  “So let me summarize.” I look at her for confirmation. “You weren’t sure about your man. And still you stuck to your guns. Gave it a try. Gave him a chance. Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

  Another shrug. “Maybe.”

  “Stop being cryptic, sis. I’m desperate here.”

  “I’m trying to tell you nobody can give you the advice you want, brat. Only you can decide if Jarett is worthy of my little sister, and you don’t seem to have enough evidence in order to decide yet. Therefore you need to study the matter more. Gather more clues. And then, Gigi, please… don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

  “Really?” I put my hands on my hips. “Like what? Elope? Go on a road trip around the country? Move to Africa with him?”

  “So many bad ideas...”

  “Yeah.” I huff a laugh. “Mom would have a fit if
she overheard this conversation.”

  And eloping with Jarett shouldn’t sound so appealing.

  Jesus take the wheel.

  “Speaking of Mom,” Octavia says, “tell her that her grandbaby is not here yet. She keeps asking. She’s driving me up the wall. Like I’d have the baby and not tell her, hide here at the house? What is she thinking?”

  “Well, she’s probably just worried because you’re almost due. I mean, you do look…” At her dark look I hesitate. ‘Big like a whale’ may not go down well. Just a hunch. “Um, radiant?” I suggest.

  “Go away,” she says disgustedly.

  “I’m going. Goodbye, Bean! And rest well, sis. You’ll call me if the baby decides to come, right? If your water breaks, or you feel any contractions, or—”

  “Go. Away.”

  Snickering, I bend to kiss her cheek and get the hell away.

  “Gigi! Come help me for a sec!” Mom calls out the moment I step inside our house. The smell of freshly baked cake coming from the kitchen makes my stomach growl.

  “Coming!” Shrugging off my jacket and dropping my backpack at the door, I follow my nose and find my mother setting a baking tray on the table, hands sheathed in huge pink oven mitts Merc and I bought her last Christmas.

  “There you are,” she says brightly. “Help me get the other tray out, and put the icing on the cakes that have cooled down.”

  Okay, I can do that. I’ve turned into Mom’s assistant ever since Octavia moved in with Matt and his kids. I mean, I do my best, but I can never be Octavia. Girl knows everything—how to cook and bake and clean and wash and keep a household in order.

  Unlike me. Setting the house on fire would be easier for me than cleaning it.

  I manage to get the other tray out of the oven without burning myself—this time—and set it on the mat to cool, then grab the icing bowl and give it a swirl with the spatula.

  This is actually a part I really enjoy: icing cakes. Decorating them. Fixing them.

  Wait a sec… Is that what I’m trying to do with Jarett? Fix him?

  I freeze, the spatula held up in the air. Good God. Am I that predictable? That simple to figure out, and an idiot to boot? Making the same mistake girls the world over have made since the dawn of time?

  No, I’m not going to freak out now. Well, not worse than I have.

  Gather more clues, Octavia told me earlier, or something like that. More information before you make up your mind.

  If only it were that easy. Find information about Jarett, where?

  “Have you heard from Octavia?” Mom asks, breaking through my thoughts. “I’m so worried about her.”

  “Why? I just saw her. She seems fine.”

  “Oh, how is she doing?” She wipes her hands on her apron. “She’s not telling me anything anymore. She likes to keep me in the dark.”

  I blink. “Mom. That’s so melodramatic.”

  If you knew my mom, you’d know she’s a perfectly easy-going person. She’s never pushy, never oppressing, never annoying. But it looks like the idea of a grandkid has changed her in unpredictable ways. What’s this new possessive vibe coming off her?

  “She never tells me how she is. Never calls me. I’ll never even know if the baby comes.”

  “Mom. The baby is still in. In case you were wondering. And Octavia is fine, and will let us know if little Bean decides to come. Okay?”

  “Okay, but—”

  “No buts. You’ll be the first to know. You can’t doubt that, right?” I give her a quick hug. “Seriously.”

  “I know.” She gives me a watery smile. “It’s just… I want to be there for her. My mom wasn’t there for me, and I missed her so badly. I needed her. And I’m right here, offering to cook and clean and help, and your sister won’t let me.”

  “You cooked, like, ten dishes last week and took them over to her. They still haven’t finished them.”

  “It’s not the same. I want to be by her side.”

  “Mom, she knows that. And you are. That doesn’t mean you need to be attached at the hip. When the baby comes, she’ll call you. I’m guessing that she and Matt want some time alone now, before Bean arrives, that’s all.”

  “You’re right.” Her smile brightens, and she wipes at her eyes jerkily. “Of course you’re right. You’re wise, my little Augusta.”

  “Uh, no, Mom. I’m not.” I check out the cooling cakes, set in a row on the table. “I just know how much Octavia loves you.” I look up and wink at her. “We all do. Even Mr. Nelson.”

  Her face colors, and she pats her cheeks. “Hush.”

  Paul Nelson is a neighbor, and he and Mom have been dating for most of the past year. They’re like schoolchildren, kissing behind doors and going out for romantic dinners, apparently. I haven’t seen much of that, but Merc swears it’s true. Merc knows everything that goes on in this city.

  Mom is endearingly shy when talking about this Paul Nelson, and I wonder if they’ve gone beyond kissing and hand-holding yet. She has yet to introduce us to him, so when I pass outside his house sometimes and he’s in the garden, it’s kind of awkward. I want to go—hey, isn’t my mom the shit? Aren’t you totally in love with her? Isn’t she the best?

  But I don’t.

  I’m discreet and awesome that way, and I will let them do this in their own sweet time.

  Smoothing the spatula over the cake, I check that the icing is perfect, before moving to the next cake.

  “This one,” Mom says, pointing at the cake as I slather icing on top of it, “is for Becky, bless her kind soul. She always liked my cakes. Her husband, too, though he passed on way too early.”

  “Sounds like a sad story,” I mutter, slapping icing on the sides of the cake and spreading it. “What’s her favorite cake?”

  “Coffee cake, even if she doesn’t remember much these days.”

  “Oh? Why not?”

  Mom always has all these stories about people. It’s soothing to listen to her, half-turning my brain off, as she prattles about neighbors in Destiny, and here in St. Louis, and people she met at work, and in the homes and hospitals she visits. Her memory of people is phenomenal.

  “She got sick. Alzheimer’s. Progressed pretty fast, too. She doesn’t remember who I am, or where she is on most days.”

  “Oh no.” I stop, inexplicable sorrow filling me for this woman I don’t know. “That’s so sad.”

  “It is. Such a nice lady. Helped me so much when we first moved here. She had me over for coffee with the other neighbors every Saturday.”

  “She was our neighbor?”

  “Lived down the street. You know, people said it wasn’t a good neighborhood, that gangs ruled it, but my memories from that time are good.”

  Gangs. Jarett.

  Of course Mom knew all our neighbors. What if she knows what I need to find out? “Mom—”

  “Jesus, look at the time!” Mom grabs more boxes and piles them up on the table. “Help me pack them up, Gigi. Janet is picking me up any moment now.”

  “Okay, but, Mom.” I help her pack up the cakes, then place them inside cloth bags, my frustration mounting. “I wanted to ask you something.”

  “What, honey? Can it wait? I’ll be so late.”

  “Yeah, sure.” We load the cakes in the back of the car in a frenzy, Janet, one of Mom’s friends, talking on her phone the whole time and glancing at us through the rearview mirror.

  I wouldn’t ask Mom about Jarett, if she remembers him and if she knows anything about him, with this lady in her beehive hairdo listening in.

  After I watch them drive away, I head back to the house, feeling defeated.

  Who can tell me about Jarett? There’s no one left… except Jarett himself.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jarett

  “You’re sick again?” Suzie asks over the phone, the buzz of the bar filling up with customers loud in the background. “Jarett…”

  “I know,” I say, turning away from Mav and Angel who are talking in low
voices at the street corner. “I know, okay? I’m sorry.”

  “I can’t keep covering for you. What’s going on?”

  What am I gonna tell her? Gang business? We’re about to rob a store, and I’m the lookout?

  Hell.

  “You’re gonna lose the job if you keep doing that, Jarett,” she says, and actually sounds sad. Fuck me… “You know that, right?”

  “Yeah. Thanks, girl, I appreciate it.”

  “If this is about your mom, you just come out and say it,” she goes on. “No need to lie to me.”

  My blood goes cold. “My mom? What do you know about her?”

  “Sorry, was that a secret? You once said she’d had a couple of bad days, and I figured she’s sick.”

  “No, it’s okay. You’re right, she’s sick.” Shit, I was probably drunk off my ass. I normally don’t talk about Mrs. Lowe, or my past, or about me, period. “It doesn’t matter. Can you cover for me tonight, or not?”

  “Last time, Jarett. I mean it.” She tsks, and I realize that her crush on me is fading.

  Good for her. I’m not worth her time.

  What’s there to like, anyway? I’m a fuck-up. Been screwing up my life, and the lives of others, ever since the day I was born.

  “What’s the fucking hold-up now?” Mav yells from behind me, and I almost drop the goddamn phone. “Ready to get to work, or do you maybe need more time with your girlfriend?”

  “Not my girlfriend,” I mutter.

  “Know what, Jarett? You’re on your own, and by the way, screw you,” Suzie hisses into the phone, and the call disconnects.

  “Fuck,” I whisper. “Just… fuck.”

  Angel smirks at me. “Trouble in paradise?”

  “No fucking trouble at all.” I stare at my phone for a long sec, trying to figure out how I managed to fuck this one up, then give up and drop it in my back pocket. “Let’s go.”

  “Well, if you’re sure,” Mav drawls, voice dripping acid, and turns to go, gesturing at the others who’re standing about, smoking. “Shall we?”

  Sebastian flicks his cigarette away and glares at me as he straightens from his slouch against a car’s hood. “You’re a pain in the ass,” he mutters, loud enough for me to hear.