Enter The Black Oak: Chapter 29

MY BACK MUSCLES NO LONGER HOLD ME UP and I drop back onto the ground, my whole body listless and numb as I dissolve into the earth. I close my eyes, shutting out the world around me as I press one of my palms into the cool grass, running the fragile blades between my fingers, trying to soothe the tempest whirling within.

I realize now why Evie, a woman who was like a sister to me at one point, became so cold when I started to date Jack. I wish she or Cameron had said something to me back then instead of leaving me in the dark like that. I can’t understand why they didn’t tell me what he did to her…

God, none of it makes sense.

I know the way Jack would look at me, and hold me, and kiss me. He would study me as though I was some supernatural being, hold me as though he never wanted to let go, kiss me always as if it was the last kiss we would ever have, and speak to me as if I was the only person he ever needed to speak to in his life. It felt so intense, so real, so primal. I wonder if any of it was real. Was it all some sick game to him?

Speaking of the supernatural, I’m going to need supernatural assistance to calm myself down and make peace with what I’ve heard tonight. As the minutes drag on painfully, I try rationalizing, philosophizing, using my usual technique of letting the ageless nature around me impart its wisdom deep within me. I scan my mind for tidbits of hippy philosophy that my mother has shared with me over the years or old-school pearls of wisdom that my dad has imparted when it was just the two of us. Hell, I’ll settle for bumper sticker slogans at this point.

A minute turns into two into five into ten and between moments of taciturn torment, my eyes open then close again, my respiration shifting from deliberate and deep to ragged and shallow, and somehow as the minutes pass, some tentative, shallow acceptance seeps into me and a fragile sense of peace sedates me, allowing me to open my eyes.

I sit up to find Cameron watching me in silence.

“Cam, I’m sorry for the things I said,” I sigh gently, resisting the urge to put my hand onto his for fear of the fiery effect his flesh has on the inside of my body. “I didn’t mean them.”

“I know.”

“None of this is your fault. I had no right to judge you for anything.” I tuck a long strand of hair behind my ear as his eyes trap me in some bubble where no one else exists. “I hate who I am since I found out about his affairs. I hate being this selfish, angry person, consumed by her own pain. I don’t want you to think I don’t care about your feelings or—”

“You’re in pain for good reason. You’re acting exactly the same way anyone who’s just had their world collapse around them would. And selfish is not a word I would ever use to describe you.”

“I hope going back there didn’t bring back bad memories for you?”

“Nothing I can’t deal with.”

A heavy breath escapes the deep recesses of my lungs as I realize how far I’ve pulled my friend into this pit.

“I have to go,” I say, standing up suddenly. “Maddie told me this morning that I can stay with her until I get my shit together.”

“I don’t want you staying at Maddie’s,” says Cameron, getting to his feet. “She works during the day. I don’t want you home alone. I want you staying with me where I can protect you.”

“Cameron, stop. I don’t need you to protect me.”

His expression hardens along with his voice. “If I know Jack, he’ll be trying to find you and he’ll have people on it. There’ll be goons stationed at your friends’ places.”

“He wouldn’t do that,” I insist, though my own words ring hollow. “He’s probably starting dating again.”

“There is absolutely no chance of that and you know it.”

“I can’t put you in this—”

“Stop!” he growls. “If I leave you at Maddie’s, I’ll be worried out of my mind. I’ll be in a much worse state than if you stay with me. I meant what I said at Redwood. I’m not afraid of Jack. I want to protect you… as a friend, nothing more. I don’t want you to be worried I’m trying to seduce you while you’re vulnerable or some shit like—”

“I’m not,” I interrupt.

“I mean obviously, like most men, I can’t help imagining the taste of your lips whenever I look at you,” he jests with smiling eyes.

I laugh at Cameron’s attempt to lighten the mood in the hopes of concealing the blush that comes over me.

“But I’m a big boy. I can control myself. I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

I run a hand through my disheveled hair and study the grass beneath my feet to give myself a second to think things through. I don’t want Cameron pulled into this anymore. I don’t want Jack even knowing that I’ve spent time with Cameron. He’s always been possessive and suspicious of other men’s motives, but with Cameron, it’s on another level entirely. And Jack is powerful, dangerous and merciless—a nightmare enemy to have. Cameron is much wealthier than Jack and even more powerful, but the idea of him having to face Jack’s wrath…

I shake my head. “I can’t. I don’t want—”

“I don’t care what you want,” he retorts.

“Damn it, Cameron, I wish I’d never got you involved.”

“Listen to me,” he urges firmly, running his thumb down my cheek and over my chin. “If you recall rightly, I got myself involved. I told you how low I was before I met you. You remember how you looked after me, even though you’d only known me for a few months and I was a miserable prick? Do you remember the green juices you forced down my throat, the awful parties you’d invite me to, the angry hippy rallies you dragged me on, the weird books you would leave for me?” He raises an eyebrow and I grin at the memories. “You were the only reason I came out of that time sane. I want to be there for you, like you were for me—as a friend. I’m asking you to stay with me until I know that you have a plan in place and are safe.”

As we explore each other’s faces and the fuzzy glow from the vintage park lamps strokes the blades of his cheekbones, it hits me once again that his face is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen—a cosmic collision of male beauty, symmetry and strength. Every line on his face looks like it’s been sculpted out of marble, every hint of color as though it’s been brushed on by a painter. The espresso swirls of his irises are framed by perfect thick eyebrows and gloriously dense, shiny brown locks that caress his forehead. The golden caramel skin on his neck glistens in the moonlight and his poised stance shows off his muscular frame in a way that makes it impossible not to think of the taut, powerful body beneath his clothes. Despite his mesmerizing physique, his beauty is not just about how exquisite he looks; he’s one of the rare people I’ve met who is just as gorgeous inside as out and as I study his impossible face, I feel as though a mist has been removed from around him and I’m seeing him clearly for the first time.

As his eyes caress mine hungrily, I look down, breaking the gaze we share, and take a step back. “I need to see my parents. They can help me arrange things. Plus they’re worried about me.”

“Okay. We’re a few blocks away from my Fifth Avenue place. I have a guest room. You stay the night and tomorrow I’ll drive you to Redwood. Your parents can come and see you there. I can arrange for a couple of lawyers to meet you there as well if you like.”

“Don’t you have to work or something?”

“Jessynia, I own the company. Other people do what I tell them to do. I just need to make a few phone calls, send some emails. I can do that anywhere.”

I sigh. “Okay.”

He exhales loudly as if in relief. “Let’s go.”

My leg aches and I limp slightly as we walk back through the park and cross the street in the direction of the hotel where we dropped off the car. As we cut through the lobby to find the valet, a familiar voice rings out.

“Jessynia! Hey!”

I turn to see my friend, River Dusseau, a singer in an alternative rock group that I know from my short time in the raw food movement. He’s standing near the front desk with two skimpily dressed and heavily pierced women with torn stockings and the kind of rainbow-colored hair I could never pull off. River’s ashy brown hair has grown down to the top of his tattooed shoulders since the last time I saw him and remnants of smudged eyeliner stain his tired-looking eyes. The man looks like he had a fight with his clothes before putting them on, though he’s still smoking hot in that dirty, debauched kind of way.

“Hey yourself!” I sing, trying to hide the weary exhaustion I feel as he hugs me tightly.

His scent is that of weed and whiskey and he looks like he hasn’t showered in days. I have a feeling you could lick his face and get high. The stale smoky smell makes me happy I haven’t touched a cigarette in over a month.

“I was just thinking about you the other day,” he beams, the words falling out so fast he almost trips on them. “I miss you, man. I sent you an email to invite you to one of our shows.”

I sense Cameron stiffen beside me.

“Yeah, sorry, River. I meant to write back. I’ve had so much going on. You’re on tour, right?”

“Yeah, we’ve got a few dates in the city. We’re going to Chicago at the weekend, then L.A. They’re just small venues, but they’re getting bigger each time.”

As he speaks, I notice the more sober-looking of the two ladies he’s with trying to get Cameron’s attention. I can almost feel her brain matter turning to mush before me as she plasters a smile worthy of a pageant on her pasty face. Cam seems distinctly unmoved by the come hither expression she’s going for.

“Good for you! The band’s doing well, then?” I think about introducing a now stone-faced Cameron to River, but quickly decide against it. I really don’t need people seeing me with Cameron in Manhattan.

“We’ve sold out every venue we’ve booked so far.”

“Wow, that’s amazing! Are you enjoying it?”

“Yeah, touring certainly has its moments, I’ll give it that,” he grins. “So, how’s—?”

“Jessynia, we should go,” says Cameron, his body bristling.

“Um, yeah. Sorry, River, this is a… colleague of mine. We’re working on this, uh, thing and we’ve got this really, um, tight deadline…” I feel myself getting flustered as I lie to my old friend.

“Okay, sure, yeah. No problem,” he responds good-naturedly. “Hey, I’ve changed my number. Just a minute.” He grabs a piece of paper and a pen from the front desk, scribbles down a number and shoves the paper into my hand. “You better call, Jess. I mean it. No excuses this time, or I’ll have to start stalking you again.”

“I will,” I smile.

We hug as we say our goodbyes and I sense tension seep into Cameron’s body at the sight.

“You’re a very bad liar, Avery,” Cameron says with a hint of irritation in his voice as we walk away.

“I know. Sorry about that. I thought it best not to introduce you.”

“Good friend?” he asks.

“Yeah. We used to be close. We don’t see each other that often anymore.”

“Does Jack like him?”

“Um, not exactly.”

“That’s one other thing we have in common.”