Rough Rhythm: A Made in Jersey Novella (1001 Dark Nights)(27)

Uncomfortable shifting among the officers. “All due respect, ma’am, none of them walked out looking like you.” That came from the same man who’d questioned his father countless times. “Do you need medical assistance?”

“No. No.” She buried her face in her hands. “Oh my God. This isn’t happening.”

James couldn’t see her in distress another second. He stepped forward and blocked her from view once again, painfully aware that he’d just performed the same maneuver Malcolm used to pull. “You heard her.”

Another round of pointed looks among the officers. One reached into his pocket and removed a business card, coming just close enough to hand it over to Lita. “We’d appreciate if you’d give us a call later. Let us know how you’re getting on, would you?” The officer turned his attention to James. “Tell Malcolm we said hello.”

It seemed like an hour had passed when the last officer had climbed into their police vehicle and left the site, each minute creating more distance between himself and Lita, destroying him a little more. When they were alone, Lita stormed toward his Mustang without uttering a word, climbing into the passenger side and slamming the door.

James walked slowly toward his execution, even though he himself would be the one to deliver it. He’d also set himself up for it. Living and breathing Lita for so long, knowing it could come to this if he lost hold of the reins. Red and blue flashing lights. Pitying eyes all over Lita. God, what had he done?

Before he’d even shut the driver’s side door, Lita launched a grenade at him across the console. “Please, let’s just laugh this off. Okay? Let’s go home and laugh about that time we got caught red-handed by some jerk-off cops.” Her voice rose to a plaintive tone he’d never heard out of her mouth. “Please?”

James had to close his eyes against the urge to drag her across the car, rock her back and forth in his lap. “Those cops were just doing their job, Lita.” His stomach lining thinned, burned away by the rising acid. The secrets he couldn’t hold onto any longer. “Same way they always did their job coming to our house to question my father. When he couldn’t keep his fists to himself.”

He could sense Lita’s scrutiny, but the sensation cut off when she slumped back in the seat. “So that’s what all that cryptic man talk was about, huh?” A long pause wherein he could hear her swallow, hear the wheels turning in her beautiful head. “Your father…hit your mother.”

It hadn’t been a question so James remained silent.

“Is that why you don’t speak with him?”

He nodded once. “It wasn’t always the neighbors that called the cops. Sometimes it was me. Until I got old enough to stop him myself.” They exchanged a knowing look. “After that, cops were no longer necessary.”

Lita remained the stillest he’d ever seen her. “I’m sorry you went through that. I’m sorry for your mother, too.”

“Because you understand what it’s like.”

She didn’t quite flinch, but her smooth skin turned pink as if she’d been slapped. “Stop trying to bait me. I know where this is going. You think you’ve turned into your father. You think you’re repeating the pattern.” Her left hand unfolded between them on the seat as if she were begging him to take it. Hold it. No. It would never end if he held her hand. It would give him a comfort he didn’t deserve. A reprieve from the oncoming blow. Still, her hand stayed there, taunting him. “I’m telling you that’s bullshit, James. Listen to me.”

James picked a spot on the dashboard and trained his eyes there, refusing to look at Lita. “I listen to every word you say. I hear you in my goddamn sleep.”

“Same,” she breathed, scooting a little closer and breaking his already hemorrhaging heart. “What we do together is nothing like what your father did. Nothing. You have to realize that.”

He swallowed the temptation to believe her. It would be so easy, but they’d be back here tomorrow. And the day after. He’d push further every time and eventually she’d break. So he’d break their connection first. For her. Everything for her. “It is the same, Lita. You just can’t see it.” Somehow he found the will to face her, look her square in the eye. “You can’t see it because this is your normal. You think I’m your normal. You seek out men like me.”

She recoiled. “Excuse me?”

“You had…bruises when we met. You came from an ugly household, just like me, and you landed right in the midst of another. Now you’ve found a third in me.” Oh Jesus, her face. Her face crumbled and James wanted to die a thousand deaths, but he pushed on out of sheer will and necessity. “I’m not the only one following a pattern, Lita.”

She inhaled in a huge sob. “Oh, f*ck you, James. Just f*ck you.”

The words—the hurt and betrayal in them—dug into his chest like fired bullets. “I’m sorry, I know—”

Her palm cracked across his face, the sound breaking like thunder in the car. For long beats, their accelerated breathing was all that tempered the silence. “Why aren’t you hitting me back? Huh?”

“Lita—”

“No.” Her voice shook. “No, you’ve made your point, now you’ll listen to me. I left my parents at seventeen to escape a bad situation. I left. I survived. And I left again when my boyfriend hit me. Survived. Again. You don’t get to call me a victim. How dare you.” She pressed a closed fist to her mouth a moment. “The difference between my ex and you is… I consented to what we do. Not what happened before. I thought there was love behind what you and I were doing. Or the…hope of love. But I guess I was wrong. Because you must hate me to call me a willing victim to my face when I’ve done nothing to deserve it.”