Upper Hand (Cedar Tree Book 5) (18 page)

“Doesn’t matter, I could tell even from that distance she’s got shifty eyes and dresses like she’s a fucking runway model. Never liked her,” she reiterates.

“So let me get this straight, Gus didn’t talk to you about this but went straight to Clint? The man who all but two-three weeks ago was no more than a drooling vegetable in a hospital bed? Ohhh, I’m gonna have to have a word with that overbearing caveman.” From the look on her face, he’s in for it. “Now I get why he was calling to find out how my day was going, whether I wanted to go for lunch in Cortez. Bastard was trying to get me out of the way. Good thing I mentioned I was already hanging out with Arlene. I never said where we were, otherwise I’m positive he’d show up on your doorstep, too.”

“Tell me about Clint.”

I look at Arlene whose question surprises me. Far from the touchy feely type—much like me—this is something I’d have expected Emma or Naomi to ask, heck even Katie, before hearing it from Arlene’s lips. All she does is raise her eyebrow impatiently.

“Not much to tell other than that he’s a typical male chauvinist pig.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” Arlene chuckles, having had her own run ins with Clint in the past.

“I actually don’t think he’s that bad,” Emma pipes up. “He says things by rote, but I don’t think he really believes them. More like an ingrained pattern, you know?”

“Ingrained or inbred?” Arlene jokes before focusing back on me. “But that’s not what I was asking. Something’s changed, I can almost smell it on you.”

“God, I hope not,” I answer, unable to keep the smug sound out of my voice. I did after all get my mind blown by the cretin last night.

“Oh Jesus, don’t make that face, that’s just creepy. You had sex with him, didn’t you?”

Now it’s my turn to raise an eyebrow but with a different message in mind.

Emma leans over the table conspiratorially. “And?”

“Bossy, big, and unbelievable.”

Emma sighs as she leans back in her chair. “I wonder if these guys go to a special academy for that. They all seem to have those things in common.”

“Bossy?” Arlene again whose uncanny intuition must’ve picked up on the vibe underlying that statement.

“You could say...” I let my voice trail off in an effort to steer clear of that particular topic, but Arlene looks at me through squinted eyelids.

“He better not be mistreating you.”

I let that go, because frankly, I’m not quite ready to explore all the reasons why I enjoy giving up control in the bedroom—of all places.

Max’s little voice provides the perfect diversion. By the time I have him cleaned up and settled into his own highchair—the one Mal had brought over—at the counter with a drink, nosy Arlene has forgotten all about Clint’s bedroom prowess. She’s so engaged in Max’s limited babbling, she never even notices the knowing smirk Emma sends me. It’s always the silent ones who see more than you’re willing to show.

Realizing my kitchen cupboards and fridge are still empty, Emma suggests a move to her place for some lunch. Glad for the distraction from a growing sense of unease in my own house, I grab some things for Max before following them in my car across town. Max muttering happily to himself in the backseat puts a smile on my face, but I still have the presence of mind to check my surroundings carefully. I’m not ready for another encounter with the fancy car. There’s been enough excitement for today.

-

-

I
have no excuse other than that the house seems mockingly empty after Gus and Neil take their leave. I almost hang up when the phone turns over on the other side, but I figure I’d kill two birds with one stone.

“Mason Brothers, Jed speaking.”

His voice has a dual impact on me; the instant anger, which seems to have become second nature when dealing with my brother, and regret for the loss of what was once a great relationship.

“You wanted a chance to talk.”

“Clint? Yes, I do. Where are you?”

“Home.”

“Is Beth with you?”

Immediately the leftover hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I don’t like the sound of her name from his mouth, dammit. Automatically my defenses kick in.

“Beth is no concern to you,” I bite off, struggling to keep my temper in check. From the other side all I hear is a deep sigh before he starts talking.

“I was only checking because I don’t know how much you’ve told her about our history. I know I haven’t said anything. Wasn’t my place.” He’s being reasonable and I hate it.

“She’s not here, if that’s what you want to know.”

“It is and I’ll be there in twenty. I’m at the reno in Cortez.”

With that he hangs up and I slowly put my phone down, trying to ignore the pounding in my chest. Other than that brief glimpse of him at the hospital and our very short but tense interaction in a clinic full of people, I haven’t been in the same room alone with him since I beat the crap out of him years ago. Should be interesting.

It’s more like twenty-five minutes when I hear the familiar sound of my own truck pulling up. The irony of that does not escape me. Truth is, we have the business to discuss, what to expect in the short term, and then there is the cesspool of our past that needs to be waded through. Despite the fact that I don’t trust the man around Beth, I don’t for a minute doubt that he’s doing well by the business. The one we had built up together so successfully—and the same one I forced him out of, when he betrayed me by taking up with my wife. I was always more devastated by his betrayal then by hers. Had it been anyone else, I’d probably have walked away, wiping my hands clean of the marriage and glad to do so. But for your flesh and blood to...

The heavy tread of footsteps on the front porch, followed by a distinct rap on the door that apparently hasn’t changed over the years—long, short, short, long—interrupts my thoughts before I can get myself all worked up again.

Opening the door Jed stands there, looking at me from under the brim of his ball cap. I try not to notice the pain and uncertainty in his expression. I’m sure it’s close to matching my own. Standing back, I invite him in with a wave of my hand. Time hasn’t been kind on him. At three years younger, we used to look a lot alike. Some had thought we were twins. But now he surprises me with his gaunt appearance, making him seem much older than his forty-three years. What used to be smile lines are now deep grooves that only emphasize the hollow look on his face. I can’t help but wonder if I simply don’t see the test of time as much on my own. Aside from the pesky silver strands that make my facial hair look grey. Jed’s hair is almost completely gone that route. He looks old and tired, it gives me an empty feeling in my chest.

He comes to a stop by the couch and looks for silent permission to sit. Again I limit myself to a wave of my hand before I can bring myself to speak.

“Drink?” I manage.

“Just water if you have it.”

Armed with two bottles from the fridge, I find him standing by the mantle that holds a few old family photos, his hat discarded on the coffee table. I brought them out after I bought this house, not sure why. Maybe as a reminder of good times or to make it feel more like a home, who knows?

“Remember that waterhole Dad used to take us fishing? I almost drowned there once, if it hadn’t been for you.” His voice is soft but I hear every word clearly.

“I remember,” my voice croaks. “You were so gung-ho to hang that rope swing, you spent days trying to get me to take you. Then you went and hit your head on a rock we hadn’t seen under the water on your first jump in. Damn, Pops was mad at us. Couldn’t sit for a week after he was done tanning my hide.” The bittersweet memory pulls my mouth into a reluctant smile.

Jed chuckles, the sound so familiar and yet it grates on me.

“So talk.” I force both of us away from happier times.

Sitting down, Jed downs almost half his bottle before setting it carefully on the coffee table.

“Not sure where to start,” he huffs out a bitter sounding laugh. “All the time growing up, I looked up to you. Always bigger, stronger, better and I aspired to it, but never quite was able to catch up. Mom and Pop didn’t help with their ‘wall of fame’ of all your awards and diplomas, I think I had a second grade drawing make it to the fridge door once, that was about it. Don’t really know why it was still under my skin after growing up. I honestly thought I’d grown out of it, but when Luanne showed up at my door in tears, claiming you weren’t treating her right, I jumped at the opportunity to be better at something, for once.” He pauses, running his hand through his messy mop, waiting for my reaction.

Well, other than the deadly grip I have on my water, I’m not saying a damn thing. Not sure what would come out of my mouth anyway.

“I need you to understand none of this is an excuse for what I did, but I’ve done a fuck-load of soul searching these past few years. Thinking about life, about things that are important, and things that I regret; and there are a lot of those. I’ve found ways to deal with most of those, but this? This is eating away at me. Was even then, although I would’ve denied it at the time.”

“Why?” I’m finally able to speak.

“Because I always felt inferior to you, not by something you did, I realize that now, but it was there all the same. I’d always been a little in love with her, probably ’cause she represented another thing I couldn’t have. She gave me an opportunity to gain the upper hand, for once. And she was only using me to get to you. Pretty fucked up.” Again he stops to finish off the bottle, risking a glance in my direction, but I stay still.

“After everything went to shit, we tried to make something of it, but her heart wasn’t in it—never was. If I hadn’t been so high off scoring a fantasy, I would’ve realized, much sooner, that the fantasy was much better than reality turned out to be.”

Restless, he gets up and walks back over to the mantle where he picks up the photo of him and I, side by side with a big catfish between us, one that Pops took.

“I’m so damn sorry. I honestly don’t know what I was thinking. Got my own back though...”

He lets his voice trail off baiting me to ask, so I oblige.

“How’s that?”

He chuckles to himself, shaking his head. “What do you think? Not even a year after we...after you divorced her, she wanted to get married again. I had a good job and had the payout for Mason Brothers still in the bank, I figured I was pretty settled and this was probably a natural next move. A weekend in Vegas did the trick. Even then I remember thinking what a really fucking bad idea that probably was. I think it was not three months after that I found her in bed with my boss. I got a lawyer right away and filed for divorce, which I got, but not until after she cleaned me out.”

I’m surprised at the pang of sympathy I feel for him. I should be laughing at the cheater being cheated, but all I can bring myself to feel is a deep sadness. I had never mourned the loss of Luanne, but always felt the loss of my brother deeply. Jed had already lost me, granted by his own actions, but then lost the woman he loved, his money, and I assume his job, since I can’t imagine him going back to work after that.

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” I say more sincerely than I’d anticipated feeling.

“Don’t be,” is his quiet response. “It was exactly what needed to happen for me to see what a self-indulgent little prick I’d been all of my life. I’ll admit, I did go off the deep end a bit at the time, but that’s done.”

I can sense he’s holding something back and I want to pry.

“How long ago was this?”

“Three years.”

“Then why not come to me sooner? Why wait until I’m fucking hovering between life and death before you decide to show your face?” Some of my anger is slipping through, and now it’s my turn to get up and walk around a bit to regain control.

“I was in jail until about six months ago.”

“Say what?” The shock at his admission has me up in his face.

“Took a page from your book and beat the crap out of my boss when I found them. He didn’t file charges though, until Luanne had her hands on the money, and then tried for attempted murder. That didn’t fly far, not with the time lapse, so assault it was. Luanne testified against me and I was given two years. I’d just been out a few months when Beth tracked me down.”

“I didn’t know.” I’m stunned, actually. As much as the beating I gave Jed had shocked me, never having been a particularly violent person, Jed in the role of aggressor seemed even more out of place.

“Had a lot of time to think in there, Clint. Not much else to do other than to try and steer clear of the other inmates. Or at least some of them.” His eyes cloud over and it’s on my lips to ask, but I don’t. Instead I make a tentative suggestion, seeing that he obviously hasn’t quite shed all the baggage he dragged out of jail with him.

“Have you ever talked to Seb?”

Don’t really know why I suddenly feel the need to play matchmaker, but I know Seb had been in jail for assault. I figure he’d know better than anyone what it’s like to be in there, and my brother might open up to him.

He looks at me suspiciously. “The cook at the diner? Why would you want to know that?”