Debt Read online

  Jax wants to take me out for a drink. Yes, yes, yes, I say to myself. Say yes. You deserve this. But I reject him. I want to say yes, more than anything, but I can’t. I’m too fragile to have my heart broken by the likes of him. Of course it would happen. He’s cocky and rich and arrogant, and guys like that only want one thing. The thing that I certainly want to have with him, but not now. Not considering everything else I have that’s going on.

  The following day, just as the sun throws its harshest rays on our dusty part of the world, my mind drifts back to Jax. If only he would walk back into this place. If only he would ask me again. Then maybe I would say yes. But it’s all a daydream.

  My mind drifts from one part of his body to another. He’s got the kind of veins lining his forearms that make me wet in my panties. I want to pull off that two hundred dollar T-shirt and run my fingers over his chiseled abs. I want to grab both of his butt cheeks at the same time and get down on my knees before him.

  “Sophia?”

  A familiar voice startles me and brings me back down to earth. It’s Jax. He’s casually leaning on the countertop and tapping his fingers.

  “Hey,” he says.

  “Hey.”

  I’m at a loss for words. My mouth gets parched.

  “So I was in the neighborhood, and I thought I’d stop by.”

  “Oh, okay.” I smile. “Can I get you a menu?”

  “You can, but I’ll just get whatever you recommend anyway.”

  His cockiness is oozing out of him. I look around. His friends are nowhere to be found, but the Bentley is parked in the first available non-handicapped parking spot.

  “Where are your friends?” I ask.

  “Not here.” He smiles.

  “Why are you?”

  He takes a breath. “Like I said, I was passing through the neighborhood.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “You don’t believe me?”

  “No.” I shake my head. This guy is dangerous. In a good way. No, in a bad way.

  “Well, take a seat. Anywhere you want,” I say.

  He looks around the café. There are three other people here. The lunch ‘rush’ just left, meaning the four other people who typically pop in for lunch. Jax chooses the seat at the counter. Right in front of me.

  I grab a rag to pick up the few crumbs left over by the last customer and notice that my book is still in my hand.

  “Jane Eyre.” He nods. I hide the book behind the counter and wipe the counter around him. He doesn’t move his arms and I stop to see if he will. He takes a moment before lifting his arms.

  “You were reading that yesterday,” he says. I nod and get my pad out. I can’t find my pen and frantically look for it at the cash register. I can feel his gaze burning a hole in the back of my jeans. He’s checking out my ass. I don’t want to admit it, but I like it. A lot.

  “Yes, I’m not done yet. Have you read it?”

  “Yes, in school. It has a good story. Love and tension. Lots of awkward situations. It just needs something.”

  “You think a classic of English literature needs something? Seriously?” My tongue often gets away from me, but this is one of those situations where I don’t really care. I love talking about literature, and he was the one who brought it up.

  “Yes, so what?” He shrugs.

  I shake my head at his arrogance. He’s an asshole, and he knows it. He also knows that in some situations, like this one, it’s ridiculously hot.

  “So what does Jane Eyre need? How would you improve on Emily Brontë’s masterpiece?”

  “Hey, I’m not saying it’s bad. I’m just saying that it’s missing something that would really make it complete.”

  I cross my arms over my chest and wait for him to answer my question. This should be good.

  “It needs sex. Lots of sex.”

  I stare at him.

  “They have so much sexual tension. They are cooped up in this house together. They have all of these feelings developing for one another. We, as the audience, need a release. We need them to have sex. And lots of it.”

  I can hardly believe what I’m hearing.

  “That’s crazy.” I shake my head. “Jane Eyre doesn’t need sex.”

  “Oh, yes, she does. C’mon, aren’t you just aching to read about them doing it?”

  “Doing it? In Jane Eyre? Tempting, but no,” I say definitively. How crude and vulgar and insulting can he be?

  “Okay, it doesn’t have to actually use those words. It can be much more poetic than that. But still as graphic.”

  “Like what, for example?”

  He takes a moment to think about it. I wonder if he’s going to choose a metaphor or go straight for a direct and honest description.

  “How about this?” Jax leans back from the counter, tilting his head back. He lifts up his hand in the pose I’ve only seen professors do in movies.

  “He slid himself into that heavenly place between her legs.”

  The words dangle in the air between us as if they are suspended by a string. I don’t say anything for a moment. I’m speechless. I want to be embarrassed, but I’m more turned on than anything.

  “So both graphic and romantic is your suggestion?” I finally say.

  He nods. “I thought that struck an interesting tension between the two, depicting both his masculinity and her femininity in just the right way.”

  I smile and blush. I think so, too.

  “You know you can’t really talk like this in a public place,” I say.

  “Well, I’d love to go somewhere private.” He leans closer to me.

  His confidence is exuberant. I want to say yes. More than anything, I want to say yes. I want him to take me somewhere private and have his way with me.

  “I’m sorry,” I start.

  “Aw, why?” He leans even closer and runs his fingers over my hand. I want to grab it and pull him close to me. I want to kiss his luscious lips and suck his tongue into my mouth.

  But I pull my hand away.

  “I just can’t, not now.”

  “When? Why?” At that moment, Jax’s deep set eyes resemble those I’ve seen in photographs of the Great Depression. Lost. Forgotten. Broken.

  I can’t explain. He’s a stranger, and I feel like if I say it out loud to someone, I will burst out crying and never stop.

  Chapter 13 - Jax

  When she rejects me…

  Her words pierce through my heart. Now I want her even more. I thought that things would be different since I came alone. I left my brothers back home and drove two hours back to this godforsaken town to see her again. She doesn’t know this, of course. I hate the feelings of helplessness that she evokes in me. Why? Why didn’t she say yes this time?

  I have to have her. I crave her. I need to make her beg.

  I look at Sophia. She stares at me with a blank stare that’s impossible to read. She brings me my food and disappears back into the kitchen. She’s not staying around to talk. I have no reason to eat at this shitty place without her presence.

  “Don’t take it personally,” an older woman with a lifelong smoker’s voice says.

  She has been sitting at the far end of the counter all this time, but I didn’t notice her until now. The woman comes closer. She smells of cigarettes and wears a small white apron with pockets, just like Sophia. There’s no dress code here, but I know she’s a waitress. Her name tag is old and worn, and I can’t read her name.

  “Sophia’s going through a lot.”

  I nod as if I understand. The old woman is thin but looks as strong as an ox. She leans over the counter.

  “Sophia just doesn’t want more complications in her life right now,” she whispers.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know about her mom, right?”

  “Yes,” I lie.

  “Well, she’s getting worse. Neither of them can afford the chemo treatments anymore, and the insurance cap ran out a few months ago. It’s looking really grim.”
<
br />   I nod. Her mom’s dying of cancer.

  “There’s some experimental procedure that’s available and looks like it could be an excellent option for her.”

  “That’s good,” I say.

  “Yeah, except that Sophia can’t afford it. She can’t even come close.”

  “How much does it cost?”

  “Not sure. Thousands. A couple hundred or so, I heard. And who’s got that kind of money?”

  I look away. My gaze drifts outside to my Bentley. That car costs as much as a cancer treatment to save someone’s life. I’ve never put it in that perspective before.

  The old woman startles me when she puts her long shriveled up fingers on my face and turns it toward her.

  “So don’t take it personally, kid. She’s got a lot on her mind. But I know she likes you. I saw the way she was looking at you. In the seven years that I’ve known her, I’ve never seen her look like that at a guy before.”

  Chapter 14 - Sophia

  Back at the house…

  Present Day…

  * * *

  It’s him. How could it be him? My mouth drops open and tears start to well up in my eyes. A big lump forms at the back of my throat. Why is it him?

  “Are you okay?”

  I shake my head no. And I don’t think I’ll ever be okay. No, no, no. It can’t be him.

  “How are you…Mr. Grayson?”

  “Fine,” he says slowly.

  “No.” I shake my head. “I mean…how is it that you are Mr. Grayson? I mean, I got the money from a foundation. I had no idea that it was…you.”

  “I know.” He looks down at the floor. His hair falls slightly into his eyes. When he looks back at me, I feel as if he can see right through me. “That’s the way I wanted it. I’m sorry. I mean, I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. I just wanted you to take the money.”

  I shake my head and wrap my hands around my shoulders.

  “You thought that I wouldn’t take it?” I ask after a moment. He looks deep into my eyes.

  “Yes, I thought you would be too…proud.”

  I clench my jaw. I hate that he is right. I would’ve been too proud. Or maybe not. It is my mother who was sick, not me. I definitely wouldn’t have taken it if it were just me.

  “How is it that you know so much?” I ask. “About me?”

  Now, it’s his turn to be taken aback.

  “I don’t. Not really. I just saw you at that diner and…I wanted to know more about you.”

  “So you paid for my mom’s cancer treatments? In what world does that make sense?”

  He shrugs again.

  “Why did you wait two years?”

  “I wanted to know that your mother got better. For good.”

  “Why am I here now, Jax?” I ask.

  “You remember my name.”

  Of course, I remember your name, I say to myself. I remember you from the diner. We don’t always have attractive millionaires, or is it billionaires, just pop in for a bite to eat.

  “Why am I here now, Jax?” I repeat my question.

  “What do you mean?” he asks nonchalantly. As if he has nothing to explain. Nothing to hide.

  “Why am I here?” I shrug. “What do you want from me?”

  He shifts his weight from one foot to another and looks down.

  “I don’t know. I don’t really have an answer,” he finally says.

  “You don’t? You brought me all the way over here, and you don’t have an answer?”

  “No, not really.” He shakes his head. “I just wanted you to come. You didn’t want to go out with me…”

  He doesn’t finish his sentence. I wait for him to complete it.

  “I didn’t want to go out with you, so you decided to bring me here for a year. Force me to work for you?”

  That gets his attention. And insults him, judging from how red his face gets.

  “You are free to leave anytime, Ms. Cole.” Jax looks straight at me. “You’re not my slave. Who do you think I am?”

  I shake my head. Now it’s my turn to get incensed. “No, I can’t. Not really, though,” I say.

  “Yes, you can.”

  “You paid for Mom’s very expensive treatment, Jax. I really appreciate it. Why? Why did you do that?”

  “Because I heard that she needed help. You needed help.”

  “But there are millions of people in the world to help. Why me?”

  “Okay, there you got me.” He shrugs. “I did it because I like you. I wanted to help you. I didn’t want you to lose her. I heard she’s doing really good.”

  “Yes, she is. And I’m very grateful for that. I want you to know that I am.”

  “Great, that’s what I wanted to hear.”

  “But I still don’t understand this.” I wave my hands in between both of our chests. He grabs my hands and wraps his warm, strong fingers around each wrist. My heart skips a beat. I feel a surge of electricity pass through him to me. It’s just a spark, but it makes me feel warm all over. All the shivers and uncertainty that I’d felt before dissipates. Now, I just want him to kiss me. I want him to keep holding my wrists and for him to slam his body into mine.

  “What are you doing?” I whisper. I don’t know how long he’s been holding my wrists, but I never want him to stop.

  “I wanted you…” he whispers. Jax takes a beat and looks straight into my eyes. “I want you.”

  That’s it. The words just hang there in between us. I don’t want to breathe in or out for fear that I will make them dissipate.

  “You want me?” I whisper. He stares at me. “You want me to do what?” I ask.

  “Nothing.” He shrugs. “Nothing you don’t want to do. I just want you here.”

  I nod. I don’t understand, but I don’t really need to right now.

  There’s a knock at the door.

  “Mr. Grayson? Ms. Cole?” Mr. Whitewater says. “Dinner is ready.”

  “Thank you for wearing one of the dresses,” Jax whispers over my shoulder as I follow Mr. Whitewater down the hallway. “I know it wasn’t easy for you.”

  I turn back. How does he know that? What the hell do you know about me? I want to ask, but I know he’s right.

  “I don’t want to make you mad. I just want to say thank you. You look stunning.”

  “You are welcome,” I say. Though I have no idea why he’s thanking me for it.

  “It’s just such a treat for me,” Jax explains as if he knows what I was thinking.

  His words send shivers up my spine.

  The large twelve-person table that I had seen in the dining room earlier that day is gone. We sit at opposite sides. It’s elegantly set with sparkling silverware and crystal glasses. The plates are ivory white, and the pottery is so magnificent, I can’t help but touch it.

  “I love these plates,” I say, running my fingers over the middle of my plate. Then I realize that this is probably really not polite. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” I say, embarrassed.

  “No, it’s okay.” Jax laughs. “I didn’t know someone could love plates.”

  I stare at him as if he were speaking a foreign language. “What are you talking about? These are magnificent! Look at how many little man-made imperfections there are in the middle. These are not factory made. They are crafted by an artisan. A very gifted artist.”

  He smiles at me. “You know, you’re quite a surprise, Sophia.”

  After placing the white napkin on my lap, I look at the bubbles rising to the top of the champagne glass. They dance in the candlelight, making my mouth water.

  “This is delicious,” I whisper, taking a sip.

  “Yes, it’s quite good.” Jax smiles.

  I reach for a large succulent strawberry from the middle of the table. Right before I grab it, Mr. Whitewater rushes over and helps me with it. My face gets flushed. I’m immediately embarrassed by my manners. But as soon as I pop it into my mouth, its exploding flavor overwhelms my senses.

  “Oh. My
. God,” I whisper, shaking my head. I finish the strawberry in two massive and not very lady like bites.

  “I’m glad you like them,” Jax says. “We grow the strawberries ourselves. They’re fresh from the garden.”

  Chapter 15 - Jax

  When I make a mistake…

  She sits across from me, staring at my mother’s plates. She is doe-eyed, and I want nothing more than to grab her and kiss her. Her innocence is enchanting and contagious. She’s making me look at the plates my mother has bragged about for ages in a completely new way.

  “You know, these plates are from Mexico,” I say. “My mother brought them back with her many years ago. Apparently, they are quite unique and expensive because they are so plain. Mexican pottery isn’t known for that.”

  Sophia’s eyes open even wider than before. Now I have her full attention. I just wish we weren’t talking about fuckin’ plates.

  “Oh, wow,” she says, running her fingers lightly against the grain of her plate. I want more than anything to be that plate. I want her to run her fingers so carefully and lovingly along every inch of me.

  “Jax?”

  “Huh?” I come back to reality. Unfortunately.

  “I just asked if you know what time period these are from.”

  “Oh, before the revolution. Mexican revolution. So, at least at the beginning of last century.”

  When can we stop talking about the goddamn plates?

  Finally, Mr. Whitewater emerges with two servants, carrying two dishes.

  “Pine nuts and kale salad with strawberries.” Mr. Whitewater presents the food.

  Sophia smiles and the world lights up.

  “This looks delicious,” she whispers and smiles at me, and then back at Mr. Whitewater.

  I pick up my glass to make a toast, but she has already dug into her salad.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.” She swallows quickly and drops her fork. Her crudeness makes me horny.

  “No, it’s okay. I just wanted to say thank you for joining me here. It’s a pleasure.”