Tell No Lies (14 page)

"She hasn't arranged a marriage. It's just a barbecue."

Where have I heard that before?
"Yeah, well, after the barbecue, forget you ever met her, okay?"
 

"I'll decide that after the barbecue." Mark leaned against the car and crossed his arms, defiant.

"I'm asking you to decide it now."

"What's it matter to you, anyway?" Mark narrowed his eyes at Jack.

"Look, we're good friends; we have been for years. Your track record with women is not great, and when you eventually dump her, it's bound to affect our friendship."

Mark laughed. "God, you are so transparent. No wonder Claire's trying to set us up."

Jack leaned back against the car, too, his palms on the hood, his fingers drumming on the flawless finish. He wanted to respond but feared his voice would betray him.

Mark taunted him. "You can't have her, so you don't want anyone else to, either."

Jack wondered just what, exactly, Claire had told Mark about Jenny.

"Ah, the ever-articulate orator is speechless." Mark slapped his hand against the side of his own head. "But, of course, I almost forgot, the jury is always told the defendant's silence is not indicative of guilt, isn't that right?"

"Fuck you," Jack managed to say.

"Nice try, Jack, but the answer to your request is no. If I want to see her again, I will." He leaned over, his lips next to Jack's ear. "And don't worry, your secret's safe with me."

Jack wondered what level homicide he'd be charged with if he reached over, slammed his brother onto the hood of the car, and choked him right there. Surely nothing higher than voluntary manslaughter. He imagined, at least, a fight like the ones they used to have as kids, rolling around on the hard ground in their backyard, grunting and panting as each struggled to gain control, Jack always ending up on top and threatening to smear dog shit in Mark's face. He wished now he had done it at least once. He tried to remember what those fights had been about; nothing specific came to mind but he was sure it had always been some sort of provocation by Mark. He stared at Michael and told himself that but for his son's presence, he would have hauled Mark into the grass and taken him on a little trip down memory lane. Instead he stood, fuming, his fists clenched in balls.
 

"Here she comes," Michael announced. They turned to see Jenny's Jeep coming down the street, the soft top off. When she saw them notice her approach, she honked the horn and then maneuvered the car against the curb.

As she climbed out, Mark whistled under his breath. She'd left her hair down and it was tousled and tangled from the wind; she appeared not to care. She wore a short black skirt that showed off her legs and a soft pink sleeveless turtleneck. Jack noticed how the armholes curved in a bit, accentuating her shoulders.

"From a distance it was hard to tell you two apart," she said as she sauntered toward them.

Jack sighed. He knew it was her way of trying to make light of the situation Claire had put them in, and that she had no way of knowing the conversations he'd had that day—first with Claire and then with his brother—but he wished she had chosen something else, anything else, to say.

"Yes, but now that you're close, you can see I'm the more handsome one, don't you think?" Mark said, reaching out to shake her hand. "Hi, Jenny. Mark Hilliard."

She laughed and shook his hand, and then she touched Jack lightly on the arm. "Hi there," she said to him. He was glad for the intimacy of her gesture, and he almost wished he were ten again so he could stick out his tongue at his annoying brother.

"Where's Claire?" she asked. Claire. He'd almost forgotten there were other issues to contend with. Well, he might as well get the worst over with.
 

His anxiety over the approaching moment proved to be worse than the moment itself. Jenny seemed entirely comfortable, and given her friendliness to Mark in the driveway, Jack found it a lot easier to be affectionate with Claire. After a bit, his tension eased.

"Hey, Mark. Did Jack tell you his boss is quitting?" Claire spoke from the far end of the deck, in front of the barbecue grill. Jack went to her and traded her spatula for a cold beer.

"Here, I'll do it," he whispered to her. "Go relax a bit."

"What's that mean?" Mark asked.

Jack and Claire looked at each other knowingly. They both knew Mark never read a newspaper and probably didn't even vote.

"It means there's an opening for the top job," Jenny said.

"Jack wants to run." Claire sat next to her.

Jack couldn't see Jenny unless he turned around, but he could feel her dark eyes boring into him. The last she knew, he was still resisting the idea. And really, he still was. "I think it's more accurate to say Earl's trying to convince me to run," Jack called over his shoulder.

"Earl's the boss?" Mark asked.

"Yeah," Jenny and Claire said at the same time.

"But?"

Jack closed the grill lid and joined them. He grabbed some chips and leaned against the railing. "But, I'm the only one who seems to care that my moral beliefs are antithetical to the position."
 

"Yeah, he thinks monsters who rape, choke and tie little girls to trees, leaving them to die from the elements, should be allowed to live." Jenny winked at Mark after she rattled off her version of the Barnard case.

Jack was amazed at how quickly she had figured out his brother. She seemed to know instinctively she had an ally.

"I think his feelings are a little bit more complex than that," Claire said quietly.

"That's exactly what his problem is, Claire," Mark said, coming to Jenny's defense. "He thinks about everything too much. If he wants the job, he should just go for it."

"And what would you have him tell the voters when they ask his position on the death penalty?" Claire said.

"I think he should do what every other politician does to get elected. Tell them what they want to hear and then do want he wants once he gets in." Mark smiled at Jenny.

"Jack, what he's suggesting isn't as bad as it sounds," said Jenny. "I think what he's trying to say is that to get into a position to make any difference, you sometimes have to compromise."

"He makes a difference now." Claire stood and walked back over to the grill. Jack's eyes followed her.

"Of course he does," Jenny said. "But just think of what he could do as head of that office."

"What's your boss say, Jack?" Mark asked.

Jack pretended to be surprised that Mark spoke to him. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize what I think about this subject might be relevant."

Mark, unable to resist an opening, retorted, "It's not. Just what your boss thinks."

"The food will be ready in a minute," Claire announced as she went into the house. Then, through the screen, "Can you help me a second, Jack?"

Jack stood to follow her. "He thinks I'm a fool if I don't do it." He glanced at Jenny, wondering if she'd remember calling him that.

Inside, Claire came close and leaned into him. "Don't let him get to you," she said. "He's just in performance mode for her."

He played with her curls. "Do I look like I'm letting him get to me?"

"You're unusually quiet."

He shrugged. He didn't want to tell her he was starting to believe that maybe they were right. Despite their tiff at the courthouse, he knew Claire really had no problem with him running; she simply didn't want him to misrepresent himself to get elected. But maybe Earl was right; maybe Jenny and Mark were right. Once elected, it would be up to him to decide how to handle cases. If he never saw a set of facts that convinced him the death penalty was appropriate, well, he'd never ask for it. He knew that wasn't fair, though, because implicit in this was some sort of bargain, some promise that if someday he came across a heinous enough crime, he'd ask for the death penalty. But he knew himself enough to know, no matter the facts, no matter the crime, he never would. And Claire knew that, too.

He bent his head and kissed her lips lightly. "I'm fine."

The screen opened and Jenny stepped in, but stopped suddenly when she saw them. Jack stood straighter and took a step back.

"Oh, I'm sorry." She pointed toward the bathroom. "I was going to wash up and see if you wanted some help, Claire."
 

"That's okay." She looked from Jenny to Jack. He looked down at the ground. "Come back when you're done, and I'm sure I can find something for you to do."

"Why don't I put on some music?" Jack said after he heard the bathroom door close. Claire grabbed his arm as he turned to the family room and yanked him back.

"Hey, what was that all about?" she hissed in a whisper.

"What do you mean?"

"Is there some law against kissing your wife? You two acted like a couple of teenagers who just accidentally walked in on their parents having sex."

"I guess it just made her uncomfortable, that's all."

"What's your excuse?"

Jack felt like he was being backed into a corner from which there was no escape. In trial, sometimes the only thing to do in that situation was to go on the offensive.

"You're being paranoid, Claire. Lighten up." He shook his arm and she released her grip. After turning on the radio he went back outside with Mark.
Let Jenny deal with it
, he thought, and opened the cooler to grab a beer.
 

After dinner, the four adults sat at the patio table and talked. Michael and Jamie hovered nearby in the yard, waiting for Claire to bring out dessert. Jack was ready for Mark and Jenny to leave; he thought the worst was over and he wanted the evening to end. But then Jamie asked for a cup of water, and Jack went inside to get it. Through the window above the kitchen sink he could see Jenny and Mark, but Claire sat on the far side of the table, out of his line of sight. The radio was turned up loud so they could hear it outside. The bass vibrated in his chest, and he heard only their voices over the music, not decipherable words.
 

The song ended, and over the beginning strums of an acoustic guitar, the DJ announced the next one. Jack didn't need to be told the title, though; he could have named that tune in two notes. He remained motionless, staring out the window at Jenny, hoping that she'd been drunk enough not to remember the song they'd danced to.

But she remembered. She fidgeted in her chair, crossed her legs, uncrossed them. Took a long drink of her beer. And then what he feared most: she looked up and saw him in the window. For a moment their eyes locked, each too nervous to know what to do. Jenny looked down at the bottle in her hands, into its long neck, and began to pick at the wet label. Mark said something to her; she smiled slightly, politely patronizing him. Mark must have sensed something, because he looked up, too, and Jack and Mark's eyes met briefly just before Jack spun around, his back to the sink. He wished that somehow he could see Claire without her seeing him. What was she doing? Did she see what was happening? Did she understand? And then he heard Jenny laugh, a spontaneous, easy laugh, followed by another from Claire, and he turned again to see his brother jumping around on the deck, like some character in a cartoon trying to walk across a bed of hot coals. What was he doing?

"Yow!" Mark hollered. "Is it gone? Do you see it? It was a big sucker." He swatted at the air.

"I never did see it." Jenny giggled. Jack could tell she knew it was an act, but she played along.

"Jack, your son's dying of thirst out here," Claire called, still laughing at Mark. He looked down; to his surprise, he still held the cup. He stepped back outside and sat in his spot next to Claire. Jamie ran to him and guzzled the water. The music still played but now it seemed that he was the only one to hear it. Jenny had taken advantage of his brother's little show to compose herself, and she appeared relaxed. Claire, thank God, was clueless. But Mark wasn't letting him off that easily.
 

"Tell them, Jack, about the time I had that allergic reaction to a bee sting."

Jack repositioned himself in his chair. He had no idea what Mark was talking about, but knew he, too, was just supposed to go along with it. "Refresh my memory, Mark, it was so long ago." He wasn't in the mood for this, but Mark
had
just saved his ass.
 

"Don't you remember? Mom and Dad rushed me to the hospital? I'd swelled up like a balloon?"

"How come I've never heard this story before?" Claire asked.

Fine, Jack could play this game, and he could play it better than Mark. "Yeah, I remember now. What I remember is when they gave you that god-awful shot with that enormous needle to administer the antidote. You screamed in pain and then cried like a baby. Even though you were like, what, thirteen or so?" He paused and glanced at Jenny. She had her beer bottle at her lips to cover her smile. She understood exactly what Jack was doing. "Yep, now that I think about it, I remember it vividly, Mark." He shook his head slowly, as if he were sympathizing with his little brother all over again. "You were thirteen, but you cried like a baby. Just like a little baby." And then he leaned back, put his arm on the back of Claire's chair, and tried in vain to enjoy the laughs he got out of Claire and Jenny at his brother's expense.

Jenny left first, and later Jack walked out to the driveway with Mark.

"Mark . . ." Jack began when they reached his brother's car. Just as he had decided to fabricate some story to explain the odd behavior, Mark saved him the trouble. He raised his hand.
 

"I don't want to know." He poked his index finger hard against Jack's chest. "You'd just better get your shit together, Jack." He pushed him back, away from the car door. "Don't think for a minute I did that bee routine for you. I did it for Claire." He opened the door and got in. Closed it hard. He backed the car out of the driveway and stopped just as he'd turned the car in front of the driveway entrance. "And I'll make it easier for you," he called from the open window. "I think I'll ask her out."

CHAPTER SEVEN