Jody (Kennedy Ink.) (Kennedy Ink. Book 3) Read online

  I couldn’t imagine what someone of Asher’s caliber would want with someone like me, but I agreed to go out with him. Everything was perfect for a while; he’d doted on me and took me to nice places. He loved when I had dinner on the table when he got home and I enjoyed housework and making a place a home. I was the perfect little housewife. That was until I decided that his long nights at his office and weekend trips away were lonely for me and I gained a hobby, volunteering at a children’s home in the next town over. He decided that he didn’t like me having a life away from him and demanded that I stop. I didn’t completely, but it wasn’t worth the argument when I wanted to go or when I got back, so I didn’t go as much as I’d liked to. That was just a little piece of what he took from me.

  The first time he’d hit me, he’d wanted to go out with his colleagues. He was a big shot lawyer at a corporate firm and had apparently just won a very important case. They’d all wanted to go celebrate, but I had worked a ten-hour shift and I wanted to stay home and rest up for my next ten-hour shift, the following day. When he suggested that we all go out, it was in front of his friends that I politely declined. He excused us to the bedroom, where I thought he’d nag me a little bit about going but then be okay with leaving me behind so he could go and celebrate. He didn’t. He nastily, whisper-screamed about embarrassing him and not being what he wanted me there for. When I got mad, back and asked what he meant by that, he told me how utterly useless I was and backhanded me across the cheek. I fell to the ground and he walked away.

  I couldn’t believe he’d do something like that; not even my own parents, who despised the very person I was, inside and out had never raised a hand to me. I was shocked and scared and I hated that I’d pushed him over the edge so far that he’d do something so extreme. I was in bed when he’d gotten home; he was drunk of course but was feeling remorseful. He held me and cried and promised to never do it again. He told me he loved me, which was all I’d ever really wanted and I forgave him, no fuss about it.

  The second time he hit me was worse; as was the third time, then the next time, then the next time and the time after that. He always seemed so ashamed afterward and he’d cry and tell me how much he loved me. I’ll admit that I yearned for that. The times where he’d hold me and tell me he loved me; he’d be so sweet for a few days, or maybe until he thought that I’d forgotten about it and then something else would set him off and he’d react violently. It was always my fault, that’s what he’d convinced me of. If I didn’t do this or that and make him so upset, he wouldn’t lose control like he so often did. Remember how perfect I was in the beginning? He’d say. I knew that it was bullshit and that I was losing more and more of myself every time I’d pretended it never happened. Now, I was just too scared to go.

  Don’t get me wrong, I’d tried once; I stayed with a girl from work that I’d made friends with. She and her sister shared an apartment and since we all worked together, they let me crash on their couch. I ignored his phone calls and didn’t see him when he stopped by the hospital to see me and at night, me and the girls would eat ice cream, get drunk and talk about boys. I was trying to move on.

  Unfortunately, after work one night, I was trying to put the keys into the lock of my beat up, old, cavalier when I felt someone come up behind me and shove me into the door, trapping me from even getting my hands free. Asher had caught me by myself and threatened not only bodily harm but that he’d make my life hell if I didn’t come back home. He meant it because he started stopping by every day and coming to the hospital. He was friends with a surgeon in my department and showed up in places where he knew I’d be. He was relentless, so I eventually agreed to take him back. However, I told him that I was getting my own place and we’d have to start slow while he got help.

  Supposedly, he was and I’ll even admit, aside from his possessiveness, he was doing a lot better. Still, I wasn’t happy. I just felt stuck. Stuck and not strong enough to get myself away from him.

  If there was ever such a way to pick the perfect person for yourself and have them love you unselfishly, unconditionally and without intimidation, manipulation and violence; I’d pick Jody Mars.

  Jody was the honorary brother of my best friend Morgan’s, now husband, Kingsley. I’d been scared of him the first time I’d seen him. He was crowding Morgan’s hospital room while he was recovering from surgery. I’d kept glancing around the room, taking note of all the rather large men when I noticed him looking at me too. At first, I thought it was because I was so…..gay. I mean, he was like a real life, GI Joe., he looked mean. He scowled and didn’t seem to ever smile. There wasn’t a laugh line or a smile crack anywhere on his hard, handsome face.

  A couple of days later while I was visiting Morgan, he and his brood came in. I excused myself, not wanting to encroach on their family time and was surprised when insisted he walk me out. He didn’t say much as he walked me to my car, but his voice got softer when he talked to me. I didn’t know what it meant, but I’d noticed it happen several times over the last several months. I had become very close friends with Morgan and his very good friend Conner, who was dating, Kayson. They were nice enough to bring me into their circle of friends, so I did get to see Jody more than I wanted to…but at the same time, not nearly enough.

  After the wedding, we’d all gone back to the Kennedy brother’s tattoo shop as a kind of reception and tattooing party. Kingsley and Morgan were tattooing their rings on their ring fingers and everyone else just wanted to watch. Morgan insisted that I come. It was afterward when everyone was drinking and blaring the music, that my phone rang and I’d noticed the time. I was supposed to be back a long time ago. I’d gotten carried away with the happiness of the day. I’d stupidly forgotten for a couple of hours that my life wasn’t as carefree and happy as the people I was witnessing.

  I carefully and quietly slid out the front doors and prayed that no one heard the bells chime over the constant chatter and loud music.

  “Hello?” I answered timidly.

  “Did you forget what time you were supposed to be home?” Asher asked in greeting. He must be at my house to know that I wasn’t home yet.

  “Well, I just figured since you were working late, I’d stay for the reception. The wedding was nice.” I tried for easy and hoped that he’d just drop it. He didn’t.

  “But I’m not working anymore and I’m at your house.” He said, petulantly. My heart sank at the thought of going home and spending the night unhappy. Especially when I’ve such a good day of happy.

  “I’m sorry.” I apologize, resigned in my fate for the night. “I’ll be home soon. I’ve just got to call a cab.”

  “I’ll come and get you. Where are you at?” His impatience was evident.

  “You don’t have to do that; I can be home soon in a cab.” I tried.

  “What did I say?” Asher leveled, deceptively calm. I knew better.

  “I’m at Morgan’s husband’s tattoo shop on Glamour and Third,” I whispered. He hung up without another word. My stomach was in knots now and I didn’t know if I could put back on my “happy” face and tell my friends goodbye for the night. I was always afraid that someone would see through all the bullshit that I tried so hard to hide every day and they’d see how weak of a person I really was. I was afraid that they’d see through the person I pretend to be and know it isn’t the person I really am. I was worried that they’d think that maybe the person I really am isn’t the kind of person that any of them would want to know. It kind of seemed like I wasn’t much of anything that anyone would want to know, not really.

  “Leaving already?” I heard from behind me. I knew that voice. It was growly and short normally. But, just like always, it got soft with me. Maybe he saw the weakness in me, knew that I’d likely shit my pants if he so much as raised his voice to me. Someone like Asher was intimidating enough; Jody was like the Hulk.

  “Yeah.” I croaked, before clearing my throat and trying again. “Yeah, it’s time I get home,” I told him. Man, he�
��d looked gorgeous today. I stood across the aisle from him and wondered what it would be like if it were me and him up on that alter; tearing up and pledging some, undying, gentle love to one another. One without pain and heartache, fear or manipulation. I’d often wondered if there were such a thing. After meeting these guys and the men that they loved, I knew that there was.

  “You need a ride? I’m heading out soon, I can drop you off somewhere.” Jody offered, again in his soft voice. I wanted a chance to sit alone with him for a few minute. I’d love that, actually.

  “Oh, that’s okay; I have...someone coming to get me.” I tried to smile. “Thank you for offering, though,” I say sincerely. It really was a generous offer.

  “Ya sure?” He asked, walking backward towards the door. I could only nod. I was afraid if I opened my mouth, I’d ask him not to go. I’d beg him to just stand next to me for the next few minutes and let me take some of his strength with me. I’d undoubtedly need it. I kept my mouth shut though and I watched him walk back into the small crowd of people and not look back.

  I had a chance to steel myself for the inevitable argument by the time Asher pulled up in his silver Mercedes. He pulled up and stalked to me; grabbing me by the arm and pulling me to the passenger side door. I was going to get in any way, he didn’t have to drag me. I’d have little finger-like bruises before I went to bed tonight.

  “Get the fuck in the car.” He snarled, shoving me in. I knocked my head against the grip handle on the ceiling and I knew that too, would be sore for a while.

  The drive home was silent. I knew better than to attempt to talk myself out of any trouble and apparently, Asher wasn’t in a chatty mood either. When we pulled up to my apartment, he was out of the car before me. He waited impatiently by my front door for me to let him in.

  “I really have a headache, is there any way that we could fight about this tomorrow?” I asked, rather daringly. Why had I said that?

  “You want to fight about this tomorrow?” He asked dangerously.

  “I don’t want to fight about this at all,” I told him. “I don’t understand why you’re mad, you knew I was going to the wedding today. I’ve had it planned for months.” I keep myself outside the still locked door, hoping it might deter him from taking a swing at me if we aren’t behind closed doors.

  “Open the door.” He demanded, pointing at it.

  “Please tell me why you’re mad.” I tried.

  “Open the fucking door, Cameron.” He said, losing what very little patience he had. He wasn’t going to let it go and he wasn’t going to leave; so, reluctantly, I opened the door and let him in. I followed slowly behind him, leaving the door unlocked just in case I needed to get out or someone else wanted in. I didn’t see his fist coming but I felt my lip bust open immediately and I could feel the blood, trickling down my chin.

  “Didn’t I tell you to be home at seven o’clock?” He asks, slapping me hard, in the face. I’d almost rather be punched, a slap stings so much worse. I said nothing, keeping my eyes to the floor. Asher, not liking that I wasn’t answering him, grabbed me by my hair and yanked my face in attention to his face.

  “Didn’t I tell you to be home, by seven?” He whispered menacingly. I nodded. He pushed me back onto the couch and stared at me for long moments in disgust. I could feel it radiating off of him like a hot furnace.

  “Go take a fucking shower. Get that makeup off your face.” He demanded. I only wore a touch of concealer and shiny lip gloss to make my lips fuller and pinker. He didn’t like that at the moment apparently; never mind the reason for the concealer was to hide the tiny, fingertip bruises along my jaw from where he’d grabbed me too hard, forcing me to look at him a couple days ago. He’d often complained that I was too girly. Crazy, because that was what he said attracted him to me in the beginning. How beautiful I was; how soft and delicate. Now, he only liked it when I was that way for him, no one else.

  I get in the shower and wash myself off; true to my words, there are small, circular bruises on my elbow from where he grabbed me. It was tender and I knew it’d be worse tomorrow. I’m used to seeing them, though. I have them all over. Some little, some not; some yellow and fading, some dark and new. I lean my head under the water and wonder what it would take to run away. To maybe change my last name and start over somewhere where nobody knew me. Could I do that? How far was a lawyers’ reach? I know they had private investigator friends and judges who could look up my new last name easily enough. Could I be so easy to find with just a new last name? Where would I go? I wonder what my parents would think if I showed up on their doorstep, eight years later asking for help. Would they be happy to see me? Sorry that they’d kicked me out all those years ago? I wonder if my mom ever thought of the boy I’d been, before. The kid she had to love at one time because I was her baby. She didn’t always hate me, I can remember trips to the zoo and to the park. I remembered birthday parties and weekends at the roller rink or the movie theater. There was a time where she could look at me with love instead of disgust. I could remember them.

  “You’re done.” Asher said from beside me, curtain wide open. Funny, I didn’t hear him approach, nor did I notice him open the curtain. I turned off the water and toweled off. I was beaten down for the night; physically and emotionally. I didn’t have it in me to argue or try to talk him into a better mood. I just toweled off, put my sleep clothes on and crawled into my bed, where he was waiting. Luckily, he didn’t want anything from me tonight. He was laying with his back to me and I was grateful. I laid with my back to him as well, curling up with my pillows and closing my eyes on the hot tears that so desperately wanted to fall.

  I couldn’t feel bad for myself, could I? I put myself in this situation after all. I didn’t stop it, didn’t do anything to stop it; so I didn’t deserve any sympathy, did I? It made me sick to my stomach to know that my life had turned out this way. It had never been easy for me, my life, I mean; but I’d always tried to work hard to make things better. I honestly didn’t see a way out of this though and the thought depressed me more than I wanted to admit to myself. For now, I’d do what I always done; I closed my eyes and wished for a better tomorrow.

  Chapter 2: Jody

  I watch the smarmy man grab Cameron and drag him to his car and shove him in. I also saw the detached look on Cameron’s face while it was happening. Had I know that the guy was going to manhandle him like that, I’d have gone there out and made him eat his fucking teeth.

  “Who would Cameron have just left with that drove a silver Mercedes?” I ask Conner as he passed me. He looked out the window before looking back at me.

  “Why?” He asked, skeptically. It wasn’t like me to ask after him, even though they’d all caught me looking at him a time or two before. I always kept my distance.

  “Because whoever it was just dragged him off the curb and shoved him into a car. I didn’t like the look of it.” I tell him, honestly. His eyes got wide for just a second before sighing in defeat. He shook his head and walked away, pulling out his phone and pressing a few buttons before putting it up to his ear. It must’ve gone straight to voicemail because he only left it there for a second before dialing again and putting it to his ear.

  “Tell me.” I surprised him with my nearness.

  “I don’t know that there’s anything to tell.” He says, unconvincingly. Neither of us believed that.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking then.” I needed to know. I’d think about why, later.

  “I mean,” He starts and then looks around the room. “He’s sad.” He says. “When he forgets that he’s supposed to be happy, I can see it on him, he’s sad or, just…. I don’t know, detached. He comes over with new bruises on his cheeks or on his arms. Little finger like bruises, or makeup covering his neck or around his eye. We ask him about it, but he’s good at avoiding things. You two have that trait in common.” He says, disapprovingly, give me a once-over with his eyes.

  “That’s his boyfriend? In the Mercedes?” I ask. />
  “I think so, we’ve never met him,” He answers.

  “How have you been friends with the kid for the better part of 6 months and you’ve never met his boyfriend?” I ask accusingly.

  “He’s a lawyer, he works a lot.” Conner shrugs, not believing that either and looking a little guilty.

  “What about Morgan? Has he met him?” I inquire.

  “Not that I know of.” He replies. What kind of friend, a good friend has a boyfriend and doesn’t introduce him to them after 6 months? Hell, Kayson and Kingsley couldn’t wait to introduce their guys to the rest of us.

  “I didn’t like the way he grabbed him or the way he forced him into the car,” I tell him again. I didn’t have any proof of anything, it was the only time I’d ever seen him with the guy. I tried to keep my distance from the pretty man whenever I could. He didn’t need my brand of shit leaking into his life. Now, I was thinking he already had his own brand of shit in his life.

  “Well, now I’m worried,” Conner says, palming his phone and dialing the number again. “It’s going straight to voicemail.”

  “Do you know where he lives?” I ask, not at all against going over there to make sure that he’s okay.

  “Well, yeah,” Conner says defensively.

  “Text me his address.” I don’t ask. Just as Conner opens his mouth, probably to tell me to kiss his ass, his phone rings in his hand.

  “Cameron?” He says and I see him physically relax.

  “Yes, I heard you left. Are you feeling okay?” Conner asks him, fishing without really fishing. He listens for a couple seconds, nodding in agreement with whatever is being said on the other end of the line. I wish I could hear it, myself.