Chapter 10: Smart Girls Aren't Fooled By Their Baby Daddies

Marley

Meanwhile, Back in the Hood

The last thing I should be doing is calling in sick to my second job. Not just because I've already missed a weekend this month to go to Boston for the Call-Out. Not just because I'm going to have to choose between paying bills and paying Darius' tuition this month. Mostly because this is a bad precedent. Daemon asks to see me to talk about Darius, and I jump to comply.

I know I shouldn't agree, but I'm afraid if I shut him out, he'll just maneuver around me for access to Darius. I can't allow that. I have to make sure Daemon knows—the only way to our son is through me.

So instead of pulling into the parking lot at the Lunar Lounge, I'm pulling up to the curb of the house I shared with Daemon. Daemon is out front, trimming the few overgrown bushes. A lawn mower sits to the side of the house, and the grass is freshly cut.

I snort.

The man has two dozen guys he could get to cut his grass with a jerk of his head. And he chooses the exact time he asked me to come down here to appear shirtless and sweating in his yard, playing the humble handyman?

Please. Teenage Jasmine might have been fooled, but grown up Marley's opinions are not so easily manipulated.

He kills the switch on the hedge trimmer as I approach. He gives me a brief mild smile as he looks over the small house critically. "Won't take much to get it in shape again."

"Hmmmm. I thought we were meeting at TJ's to talk about a visitation schedule," I remind him. "But there's no one at home there, and you look busy, so..."

"No, no, no, this is important. Mama had some emergency church thing—a family in crisis," he says. "TJ's still at work, and Shay took Darius and Jori for a bite to eat. Might as well talk here. Unless...you aren't comfortable alone here, with me?" He gives me another sympathetic smile.

I don't return the smile. "I'm not afraid of you, Daemon." That's a little bit of lie.

His brows twitch in concern. "I hope to God not. That's not at all what I meant. I meant, if you aren't comfortable here...with all the memories." His eyes go to the bedroom window and then he gives me a sheepish shrug.

Yeah, okay, he was good in bed.

No denying, the man knew his business, and the only two lovers I've been with since were on the opposite end of the enthusiasm-in-bed spectrum. But honestly, none of the sex with Daemon or Elliot or Marc is as pinned in my memory as the one time with Bodie. That time was so full of feelings...wonderful and horrible at the same time.

"What I'm not comfortable with is you manipulating this situation to get me alone. Like this," I gesture at his state of undress.

"I'm not. I swear, I just lost track of time, is all. I'm still getting used to managing my own time, you know," he says with another humble smile. "You remember what's it's like on the inside, surely."

"Yes," I say evenly.

Maybe he's telling the truth, about losing track of time.

Freedom to self-determine felt strange to me when I got out, and that was after only eighteen months of prison. Daemon's been institutionalized for twelve years.

"It helps if you try to stick to a schedule for a while," I tell him. "You won't feel so..."

"Restless," he says immediately.

"Yeah," I agree. "It's a weird irony. That freedom feels that way. There's so much you can do, once you get out. You feel anxious—not knowing what do first, how to order your days. That's why a basic schedule helps."

"That's good advice, Marley," he says, as he gestures for me to walk ahead of him up the steps and into the house.

I shrug. "Occupational hazard."

He chuckles. "Yeah, I can see you are probably a good counselor. You were always so damn smart. Too smart to be with the likes of me."

I doubt that. Daemon is brilliant. Devious, but brilliant.

The house is updated on the inside. New furniture, new appliances, new rugs. All purchased with drug money, I'm sure.

"Do you mind if I take a quick shower?" he asks casually, as he cracks open two beers.

It's on the tip of my tongue to say yes, but I bite it back.

He's trying to push my boundaries, and I know that, but if I push back too hard, he will only play the victim to his mother, telling her that I'm against him. I love Pat, and I don't want to put her in the middle of this. I also don't want her to be forced to choose sides. I know how that will go.

"Go ahead." I say, accepting the beer.

He cups my arm. I fight not to shrug him off.

"Thank you, Marley. You're being so understanding. I know you are doing it all for Darius. You are a great mother. I always knew you would be."

"Right. That's why you sabotaged my birth control when I was seventeen years old," I spit.

Shit.

I did not mean to say that. This is not how I need to start a new relationship with the father of my child.

Daemon's expression goes grim. He sits his beer down on the kitchen counter and leans against it. "Mama told you. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. She was so damn angry with me, when I confessed what I had done. I had to tell her though. So that she would help you. So that she would be on your side. Of all the things I've ever done—" he puts a hand on his chest. "That weighed the heaviest. Knowing I got you pregnant without a choice. Then everything went wrong—and I couldn't be there for you. Knowing, because of me, you were alone and pregnant—in jail."

He winces, like in pain, and runs a hand over his face. "I know I can never make up for what I did to you. I robbed you of your freedom in every way. I forced motherhood on you, and I got you sent to prison. I know there's nothing I can ever do to earn your forgiveness." He searches my face. "But I would be lyin' if I said I don't hold out hope that you can grant me what I don't deserve—because you are a good woman, and we have a son together. I don't want us to live in animosity, Marley."

I calmly sip the beer to cover the confusion inside. I feel like my entire being is at war. This man standing in front of me does not seem much like the man I knew twelve years ago. There are no signs of the aggression and arrogance, the ruthlessness. He's articulate and calm, humble and hopeful.

And yet I know how hard it is, for a person to truly change. Even my patients, who come to me willingly—with a sincere desire to grow or over come personal obstacles—they don't always succeed. So many people sit in a chair across from me, week after week, and lie to me, lie to themselves.

"Animosity is not what I want, either. What I want is boundaries that make Darius feel secure, but also give him the chance to know you," I say evenly. "Forgiveness is not a necessary part of that relationship. And for the record, Daemon—I don't regret Darius. He's everything to me."

He nods. "I know, Marley. I know."

After a long moment, he picks up his beer. "I'll just be five minutes," he assures me and heads toward the back of the house.

I sit on the porch, but before long, he's back, showered and fully dressed in jeans and a tight t-shirt. To my surprise, he's on the phone, and he sounds angry.

"No, are you fucking stupid? Straight to the garage. I'll meet you there."

He ends the call and shoots off a text.

My gut churns as I process what I just overheard. Straight to the garage. That has to be TJ's body shop—where he reconditions late-model wrecked vehicles. He sells them with full disclosure and in-house financing to folks that have trouble getting auto loans for brand new cars.

"Work problem?" I say cynically. "I thought TJ was not involved in your business. Why are your guys going to his place? Is he muling drugs for you, Daemon?"

Daemon's looks down at me in surprise, almost like he forgot I was there. "No, it's nothing like that," he says calmly. He sighs and pulls a chair around, sitting down to face me. His handsome face is stern as he searches mine.

"I don't want to tell you shit that puts you at risk, but I don't want lie to you either, Marley. Not anymore. That phone call was about Bodie's trip to Nashville. Shit went wrong. You have to decide how much you want to know."

"What happened?" I ask automatically. "Is Bodie okay?"

"Yeah. Well, Mal said his hand is messed up a little, but he'll live."

I rise. "His hand!?!? What the fuck happened!?! Did he get shot in the hand?"

Daemon is turning his phone over in his hands, staring down at the floor. "Are you in love with him?"

I sit back down. "What? No. I told you—I just saw him again recently for the first time in years. I don't even know him, anymore. But his band, his music—that's everything to him. That's his life now. If he can't play drums anymore..."

"Yeah, I get it. A musician's hands...that's their career. Their power and their vulnerability."

Daemon's sharp gaze flits up to me and the involuntary shiver runs down my spine. I don't know why. He doesn't look angry anymore, but there's something in the depth of his eyes that scares me.

Then he blinks, and it's gone.

"It's not just that, Daemon—"

"I get it, Marley. He was a friend, and he got out of this life. He has a different world, a new family. I don't want to see him lose that, either. That's why I told Mal to go to the garage, and bring Bodie with him."

"What does that mean, Daemon? If Bodie is hurt, he should go to the hospital..."

"He's fine," Daemon snaps, his voice tense. He makes an effort to relax with a deep breath."But if you want him to avoid prison, you have to trust me, okay? The garage is exactly where he needs to be."

The beer drops from my hand and thuds against the floor, spilling froth. Daemons rights it quickly.

"What happened?" I whisper.

He takes my hands. "If I tell you, Marley, you become an accomplice to a crime. I never want to put you at risk like that again. Let me take care of this."

"I'm coming with you," I say, rising for the second time.

"No, baby," he shakes his head.

I put a hand on his chest, shoving and breaking his hold on me.

"Fuck that, Daemon. Whatever happened, it's only because of me. I...I know why Bodie went to Nashville. Why he needed a crew of dangerous types. He wanted to threaten a bad man who hurt his girlfriend. Because...because I put it in his head to do that. This is all my fault. I'm already a part of it. Let me help."

He smiles at me, and touches my cheek. "I always trusted you, Jaz. Never doubted you were strong enough to face anything. Brave enough to stand in the storm with me."

I pull back from his touch. "Don't. This is not about me and you and our former life."

"Oh, I know," he says coolly. "This is about Bodie and his new life." He offers me his hand. "But if helping him clean up his fuck-up is a step toward winning back your trust, I'll do anything for the damn fool. Come on, I'll fill you in on the way to the garage."

———————

I'm not sure what I was expecting, but Bodie looks completely normal when he steps out of the truck. Maybe a little tired, and he has a bloody rag wound around his hand, but otherwise he seems okay.

He gives me a brief, completely non-reactive glance. Then he tosses TJ a crooked grin.

"You shouldn't be here, Dawg."

"No shit," TJ shakes his head. "Neither should you."

"Yeah well..." Bodie's thoughts fade away as his gaze lands on Daemon.

Daemon gives nothing away as he looks over Bodie's perfectly tended dreads, his large diamond earrings, his mud-caked designer clothes. "You look like money, Dawg."

"Yeah.I have you to thank for that," Bodie says mildly.

"How you figure?"

"Juvi was the best thing that ever happened to me. Music became my life in there. I already knew a little percussion, but I went to music therapy and learned to play some piano and guitar. I sat my first drum stool in jail. It was like...I was born again, behind that kit. If it weren't for juvi, I wouldn't be where I am today."

Daemon gives TJ a long, unreadable look. "Surprised to hear you see it that way. TJ told a different story of how you felt, back in the day."

"I was a scared kid then," Bodie shrugs. "Now I'm seeing it from the other side."

"Mmmmm." Daemon gives Bodie an even longer look. "And how are you seeing what went down today?"

Bodie looks at Malik and Jalen. "What? Didn't they fill you in?"

"Yeah, but I want to hear it from you."

Bodie's jaw tightens. He rubs two blood stained fingers over his lips, and the way his nostrils flare slightly, I know he's smelling blood.

My stomach roils as I wonder if it's his blood, or the man's he buried.

Bodie stares at me, and I stare back.

"You should send your Dimepiece home, Daemon. This ain't no business for her."

"She wants to be here," Daemon shrugs, giving me a little smirk.

Bodie glares at me some more. "Since when do you let her decide what she wants?"

I am suddenly in motion, striding forward, grabbing Bodie's wrist, unwrapping his hand."She can speak for herself. And by the way, I don't belong to anyone, but certainly not Daemon." I inspect his hand. "What the hell is wrong with you? Running around like you're some kind of thug knight,defending damsels? Threatening unbalanced people with guns when you have no idea how they will react? See what happens?" I thrust his hand in front of his face. "You get hurt and other people get—" I stop short, unable to bring myself to say it.

Bodie wraps his own good hand over mine on his wrist, forcing his injury away, looking down into my eyes. "You know?" he whispers hoarsely. His eyes are frantically imploring mine, searching for confusion, denial, where he only sees affirmation.

I swallow and put a hand on his face. "It...couldn't be helped. Not after it...escalated. I know that. It was you or him. You know that,right?"

Bodie's head shakes—once, jerkily-in the negative, like he doesn't know that, and he opens his mouth, but then inhales sharply and squeezes my shoulder, giving me a terse nod as he draws me aside, nearly behind him. I see his back and shoulders hardening through his thin t-shirt as he stares down Daemon.

"You told her? Why the fuck would you do that?"

"She asked. It's important that I don't lie to her, anymore," Daemon says very neutrally.

Bodie turns around and glares at me. "You said you weren't going back to him. Goddammit, Marley."

"I'm not with him. But it's really not any of your business who I interact with, is it?" Bodie's venomous "protection" is suddenly pissing me off. I've done just fine for twelve years without his help. Why in the world does he think he gets a say in my life?

"Well, it looks like you are here with him!" Bodie yells at me. "Or is it TJ you are with now?"

"You outta line, Bodie. Don't yell at her, you hardly know her anymore. And as for me, I gotta girl. Besides, Jaz is too smart to mess around with us hood rats no more. She likes those white collar pretty boys now," TJ laughs easily, but I see the sharp look he gives me.

TJ and I have that silent-parent-communication thing, after all the years of taking care of Darius together.

Did you tell him? TJ is imploring me with his eyes. About Darius?

I squint back and give the tiniest shake.

TJ sighs, and shoves his hands into his pockets.

He continues talking, more reasonably. "Bodie, hardly anybody gets to do what you have done—completely leave behind a life that doesn't fit anymore. Where was Jaz supposed to go, after prison? Her own family practically disowned her. All she had was me, and Pat. We took her in, until she got on her feet. That's all. A guy like you—so big on family—surely you get that—"

"Yeah, I get it," Bodie says sharply. "You and Pat are good people. You're family, to Marley. Like my band is to me. But this, TJ? Involving her in this? Jesus, that makes her an accessory."

"I thought you said it was self-defense," Daemon says coolly.

"It was, but there's no way to prove that, and we just buried the fucking body. If for some reason it's ever found..."

"Then there shouldn't be anything to connect any of us to the murder investigation," Daemon says coolly. "That's why we are here—to clean up the evidence. Give me the piece," he gestures to Malik.

When Malik hands it over, Daemon takes out a clean cloth and begins to polish the gun. Then he takes the cartridge out and empties the bullets. He polishes prints off the cartridge, too, as he walks to the back of the truck. TJ walks with him, slowly, circling the vehicle.

"TJ, go on home. Take Marley," Bodie prompts. "You don't want to be a part of this."

"Who do you think is the one that has to clean this shit up?" TJ says wearily. "This is my garage. If I don't do it, one of my boys will have to. They aren't Sixmob. I won't involve them."

"I'll do it," Bodie says at once. "Just take Marley out of here."

"You'll strip a truck with a hand you can barely use?" Malik says. "Naw, dawg. We'll help TJ. He'll show us what to do. It ain't no thing." Malik opens the back gate of the truck, as Bodie growls and tries to push me around the side.

Not before I see the dark wine-colored stains on the beige upholstery of the floor bed.

"You dumbasses," Daemon sighs.

"It wasn't our fault! We wrapped him in a tarp, but the damn thing was full of tiny holes," Jalen complains.

Bodie is still pushing me back from the gory sight of blood. He takes my head in his, forcing me to look him in the eyes.

Eyes so rare.

Amber.

Full of gold.

Full of concern.

"Hey." His voice is soft, full of the same concern. "Go. Please."

I nod, "Okay. I'll go, if you come with me."

His shoulder length dreads are tied back near the top of his head and they bounce as he shakes slowly. "This is my mess."

I pull his hand away from my head and squeeze it. "No. I think it's mine. You went to confront him because I told you Arabella should break off all contact. Didn't you?"

He shrugs. "Naw, not really. I was already thinking about it for a while. Calling you, it was me psyching myself up to confront the guy."

"You're a good liar," I whisper. "But I know you."

The gold in his eyes looks like a corona as his pupils enlarge. I annoyed him, with what I just said. "You think? Cause I don't know you at all. What the fuck are you doing up in this hood with Daemon and TJ?"

My gaze flits over Bodie's shoulder to Daemon. He's watching us, but without much expression.

"It's like TJ said. We're family. But it has nothing to do with Daemon."

"You're a good liar, too," Bodie snorts, dropping my hand, stepping away.

Daemon approaches, clapping Bodie on the shoulder. "Don't worry about this, Dawg. You're still Sixmob, when shit goes down. We got your back on this. I'll never forget what you did, sticking by your story that the case was yours. You're the only reason I'm on the outside today. If you had turned on me..."

"I'd be the one six feet under," Bodie says coolly.

Daemon laughs. "May be, Bodie. I was a bad guy, back then. If you had ratted, I woulda had somebody shiv you in juvi. Or at least tried. But that was a long time ago. I'm a different person now. Just like you. I don't think I rule the world anymore. And I know, I don't rule this woman right here." He touches my back and gives me an affectionate smile. I roll my eyes at him, but that only makes him chuckle. "The man's right, Marley. You should go, and you should take Bodie with you."

"Nah, dawg. I'll stay it's done."

"No. Go get your hand seen about," he says to Bodie. "Marley made me understand how important a musician's hands are." He looks down at Bodie's bloody wound. "Wouldn't want that to get infected." He swings around to TJ, "Dawg, what about Shay? You think she could clean this up for him?"

TJ eases out of the truck, and drops a bloody piece of upholstery in a large rolling cart. "No," he says grimly. "That's where I draw the line."

Daemon holds up his hands in surrender. "I feel you, brother. You right." Daemon rubs a hand over his chin and looks at me. "Bodie is right, too. Wish you weren't so damn stubborn girl. Don't like you mixed up in this. But you wanted to make sure Bodie was okay, so..." he dips his head and gives me a pleading expression. "So maybe you should go and make sure he's okay, right?"

I consider. Bodie's hand will be okay, I think, but there are other ways he's hurting right now.

"Okay." I agree.

Daemon offers me the keys to his Beamer. I shake my head, but he presses them into my hand. "It's one hundred percent legal. Even got insurance, Marley. Take it home, when you drop Bodie off at his hotel. I'll swap it out for your car tomorrow."

Ha. That would require me to tell him where I live. Not likely.

"I don't want to put you out, Daemon, when there's an easier solution." I hand him back his keys. "TJ—"

"Yeah," he says automatically, moving to the wall and snagging another set of keys. "Take one of the loaners. The Lexus. Out back."

TJ's jaw is ticking when he hands me the keys. He's angry with me, for being here, for being involved in this. Or maybe for dragging Bodie back into our lives in the first place. But his anger will fade, because we are family.

"Come on," I prompt Bodie, but hiss feet stay planted.

He and Daemon are staring at each other.

Without looking at me, Daemon says. "Pull the car around, Marley. Bodie and I, we need a word."

Anger flashes all over me at being ordered away like a child. Or a banger's girl. Daemon may have played nice to me, but now he's going to show his teeth to Bodie. The air is thick with testosterone. I can almost smell the woolly mammoth cooking over these cave men's fire.

But there is no changing alpha males like this, unless they want to change. You can put them in prison, you can put them in rock star clothes. Underneath they are still just cave men.

"Daemon," I warn, but he ignores me. He's just staring at Bodie.

TJ comes forward and takes my arm, leading me toward the back door, he walks me through the door, as I'm struggling to turn around.

"TJ, what if Daemon says something he shouldn't? Bodie still doesn't know..."

"I know," TJ snaps at me. "And that's your fault. I warned you, to get ahead of this." He looks through the small dirty glass in the door. "Just...just get the damn car, Marley. I need to get back in there and deal with the fallout if Daemon mentions that you and he have a son together. Because Bodie might take issue with Darius' paternity. I never told him the results, you know. I just told him you were giving the baby up for adoption and needed the paternity test for the records. He told me he was ninety-nine percent sure the kid wasn't his, but he didn't want to know the results, since the baby was going to have a mother and a father. But he might want to know now, and there's a lot of sketch shit for me to answer for, since I already lied to him about Darius once. And if Daemon realizes Bodie has reason to question whether or not he's Darius' father...well, that's brand new information for him. He might not take it too well."

I nod frantically. TJ is absolutely right. Tempers could flare, and Daemon could easily erupt in violence. There are an awful lot of guns in that room and Bodie is the only person not armed.

"Go, go, go," I push him toward the door.

He jerks it open and stalks back through, leaving me standing on the other side, looking through the glass.

If shit goes sideways, I won't hesitate to put myself between Daemon and Bodie.

The conversation is brief and seemingly calm. Bodie's back is to me, so I can't see his expressions, but from his body language, and Daemon's face, no one seems surprised at any point in the conversation.

When Bodie claps it out with Daemon and both Bodie and TJ head toward the front office, I suppose so TJ can let him out the locked front door, I breathe a sigh of relief and skurry toward the Lexus, to meet him there.

It takes me a few minutes to bring the car around because there were actually two identical cars and no key fob, just a valet key. I picked the wrong door lock to try first. When I arrive at office entrance, to my horror, Bodie has TJ jacked up against the brick. They are hissing back and forth and each other with angry faces and finally TJ shoves him off.

I jump from the car. "What the hell is going on?"

The next chapter is an automatic continuation of this scene. It just got too long, so I broke it up...