The devil inside, p.9
The Devil Inside, page 9
I didn’t bother changing out of my bloody clothes, showering, or putting myself to bed. Instead, I flopped down onto the couch and closed my eyes as the room swayed and spun. Every time Oakland’s face came to mind, I shoved it away.
His voice whispered in my thoughts, taunting, tempting, luring me toward things I couldn’t allow myself to want or need. The small detail about not being able to fuck his wife spun on a loop in my brain. A sick, disgusting part of me wondered if he would have the same problem if it was a guy. Me. A wave of heat flooded my system as I imagined his naked body pinning me down, thrusting into my ass, drawing glorious sensations to the surface.
My cock throbbed and begged for attention.
I clutched the cross around my neck and muttered a combination of pleas and prayers. “I won’t give in. God, help me stay away from him. I beg you. I’m not strong enough. Lord, give me strength. I don’t want to fail you.”
I knew my dreams would be bad. As I slipped into unconsciousness, where the devil had free rein, Oakland was there, hand extended, persuading me to follow him, urging me into the darkness.
And I took his hand, and I went.
The high scream of the impact wrench resonated through the bay as I loosened one of the lugs on the tire of a 2010 Civic. Kirk hovered nearby, arms crossed, scowling in my direction. He kept checking over his shoulder, so I assumed he was ensuring Rusty wasn’t nearby.
Kirk had cornered me, asking about my swollen eye and bruised face, but I’d ignored him and revved up the power tool so he would back off. He wasn’t going to let it go.
Once I’d removed the last lug and set the wrench down, he came up beside me, bumping my shoulder and leaning in close.
“It’s none of my business, but Rusty is making noise, so you’d better have a good excuse ready. Like you got mugged or jumped in a dark alley, which is bullshit because I know you. Dude, I’m your friend. What the fuck?”
“Got in a fight. Everybody needs to relax and mind their own business. It’s nothing.”
“It doesn’t look good, man. I mean, I’ve seen you get beat up, but this is ugly. You really need to learn some self-defense or something. That’s all I’m sayin’. Rusty is concerned about the image you’re giving the shop, and he’s about ten seconds from having it out on your ass.”
Ten seconds or ten hours? Rusty was notorious for whining and bitching and not facing the music.
“Then tell him to grow a pair and come have it out with me already if it’s a problem. Did he send you over here to grill me and warn me? Is that why you’re not letting up?”
When Kirk didn’t respond, I had my answer. Rusty liked to send other people to do his bidding. If his old man knew he was shying away from confronting an employee, he’d be pissed. I wasn’t a fool. Eventually, Rusty would get up the nerve to drag me into the office, but I also knew he had to work himself up to it first, which could take a few days.
“Do you got yourself mixed up in something?”
“No.”
“Are you sure? This is becoming a habit. You think we don’t see it, but we do.”
I glared over the tire in my hands. “Unlike Rusty, I stand up for myself and don’t take shit from other people, which means I take a fucking pounding sometimes. That’s life. Whatever. I told you, it’s nothing. I took a few punches. I’m still here, aren’t I? I didn’t stay home and ice my face and cry to my mom on the phone. I came to fucking work, and I’m trying to do my job. If Rusty has a problem with that, send him to me.”
Kirk sighed and scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “All right.”
Once I knew he was gone, I glanced around the shop to ensure no one else had eyes on me before continuing with the tire rotation I’d been in the middle of.
I prodded my lip, the sting reminding me of the previous night. I’d been achy and sore when I’d rolled off the couch this morning. The stench of booze and cigarettes clung to my skin, but it was the dreams that continued to choke the life out of me long after I’d showered.
When I’d stared at my swollen face in the mirror, I knew today was going to be a bad day. The mask of the usually laidback, quiet JD kept sliding off, revealing the bitter, scorned man beneath. If I wasn’t careful, I’d get my ass in trouble.
I finished the tire rotation and lowered the lift, double-checking that I’d done all the work requested from the customer. The Civic was in because of a recalled airbag issue, but the customer had requested all his annual maintenance to be done at the same time. It had killed a couple of hours in my day, and I was relieved to see it was nearly lunchtime.
I found the customer in the waiting room and asked him to follow me to the front desk.
“Looks rough,” he said, pointing at my face.
I smiled, ignoring the pain in my cheek. “It’s not so bad.”
The guy chuckled. “You’re supposed to say, ‘You should see the other guy.’”
Finding JD’s free-spirit, I laughed with him and repeated, “You should see the other guy.”
The customer smacked my arm. “See? Now there you go.”
Rusty caught the exchange, and I didn’t miss the look of disgust on his face as I set the clipboard on the desk.
“You take care, man,” I said to the customer. “If she gives you any problems, you bring her back in. Ask for Davis.”
“Appreciate it.”
Without looking at Rusty, I knocked on the counter. “I’m going on lunch.”
I disappeared out the back before he had time to argue, unzipping my coveralls to mid-chest since the weather was decent. I needed to cool my sweaty body. The alcohol leaching through my skin was making me uncomfortable and hot. I hadn’t eaten, and I’d been nauseous since I woke up this morning. Hungover and groggy. Horny and disgusted. An odd combination for most people but one that was far too normal for me.
Instead of grabbing food, I sat in my truck and chain-smoked cigarettes. When I checked my phone, I noticed an unknown number had called earlier and left me a message. I hit speaker and let it play.
“Hi, this message is for James. It’s Micah. Micah Mahony. Geraldine’s son. Um … If you could give me a call back, I’d like to talk to you about something. Please.”
He rhymed off his number, and the voicemail ended.
That was odd. Micah and I had spoken a few times in the past when we’d set up our little arrangement for when he worked out of town, but mostly we stuck to emails. I’d only met him face-to-face twice, but it wasn’t common for us to chat, especially at random on the phone.
I punched his number into my cell and let it ring as I watched the comings and goings at the shop. Rusty passed by the far bay door a few times, glaring at me. I wondered how long it would take for him to work up to a lecture.
“Hello?”
“Hey. Is this Micah?”
“Yeah, who’s calling—Wait, is this James?”
“It is. I just got your message. You wanted to talk to me?”
“I did.”
“Is something wrong?”
I worried about the old woman. She was strong-willed but confused. If she ever decided to wander off, it could be bad. I knew the villa where she lived had safety procedures in place to prevent such things, but she was wily and creative. I could see her slipping under their radar.
“Nothing’s wrong. Ma’s fine. I was talking to her this morning and …” He paused, a note of uncertainty in his tone. “Well, she told me she shared my wedding pictures with you.”
A lump formed in my throat, and I glanced around, my temperature rising. “Yeah, she did. You married a dude.”
My statement was followed by a long breath of silence.
“I did. I’m gay. Look, I know you and your family hold some strong beliefs about that stuff, and Ma doesn’t know when to keep her mouth shut. I told her it wasn’t wise to share about my sexuality, but her mind isn’t what it once was, and she forgot. If you don’t want to work with her anymore when I’m not in town, I can make other arrangements. I understand, and I apologize for not being honest before.”
“Wait. What?”
I didn’t know what to say. There was that mixture of disgust and jealousy happening inside me, and they were like oil and water, unable to touch, unable to combine, bouncing off one another but fighting for dominance.
“James?”
“It’s cool. I mean. Whatever. It’s none of my business, right?”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, you know, to each his own. Whatever makes you happy, I guess.”
The words came out of my mouth automatically because they seemed like the right thing to say. Yet, their meaning was lost on me. The stain inside me wasn’t something I could accept so readily.
“Thanks. I’m not sure your parents would feel the same. I know the church is really strict about it.”
I knew for a fact my parents would lose their shit. “They won’t find out from me.”
Micah blew out a breath. “I’m relieved. Ma really likes you. She was telling me you took her on a dinner date and dancing.”
“We went to Walmart and bought prune juice and graham crackers.”
Micah chuckled. “I figured.”
“Are you still gone another week?”
“Yeah. Honeymoon. The weather here is to die for.”
“Then your mom’s fine. Don’t worry about her. Maybe next week I will take her dancing for real.” Even though I had no idea how I could make that happen.
“She’d love that. She was pretty upset she missed the wedding. That’s why I sent those pictures. Listen, thanks, James. I’m really sorry for being deceptive. I hope you understand.”
“No problem. And um … congratulations on the wedding.”
“Thanks.”
“I heard he’s a doctor.”
“Corporate lawyer.”
“Meh, she was close.”
We both laughed.
“I’ll let you go. Sorry to bother you with my freak out.”
“No problem, man. Later.”
We hung up, and I sat frozen for a long minute, processing, wondering what to make of that conversation—but mostly what to make of my nonchalant reaction. I lit another smoke and tilted my seat back so it was semi-reclined.
This day was fucked up, and I was tired. Between having Oakland at my house last night, the fight I’d provoked, this toxic crap flowing through my system that wouldn’t ever go away, and Micah’s phone call about being gay and married to some dude, I knew without a doubt where my night was headed. The pull was there. It was Friday, and I needed release.
“Fuuuck!” I punched my steering wheel. Twice.
“Tell me about the bruises.” Dr. Husein’s kind eyes were steady. Assessing. She was a petite Middle Eastern woman in her early forties, but anyone who knew her knew she didn’t tolerate bullshit, and I would be remiss to lie to her.
“Got in a fight.”
“Did you.” It wasn’t a question. She didn’t believe me. “Tell me about it.”
She knew my track record for seeking punishment. She knew Jameson’s dark secrets—and disagreed vehemently with my conviction that I was controlled by the devil. We’d been fighting about it for years.
“I can’t go to that group thing anymore. It’s a waste of time anyhow. Those people aren’t like me.”
Dr. Husein stayed silent, her dark eyes studying every inch of my face. “You didn’t go last Thursday.”
“Fucking Mercedes ratted me out?”
“Doctor Mercedes always touches base when a patient doesn’t show up.”
“Figures. No, I didn’t go.”
“How come?”
I chewed my thumbnail, stared at the floor, and thought. Did I want this to come out too? Wasn’t it bad enough she knew all about the facility, my inner demons, and my self-destructive habits?
“You might as well tell me, Jameson. Better we take the direct route than me spend the next three sessions digging it out of you because I will, and you know it.”
“He was there. He showed up at the meeting the week before. Everything’s been a mess since.”
“He?”
I picked at another nail and bounced my leg. “Oakland,” I mumbled, my voice barely audible.
“Who?”
“Oakland, okay.” I sneered, my nerves popping and fizzling. “Oakland Corbitt. The Oakland Corbitt from when I was a kid.”
“Your high school lover.”
“Don’t call him that!” I shot off the couch and paced, ripping a hand through my hair. “We weren’t like that. It was a stupid mistake. He threw himself at me, and I just—”
“Stop while you’re ahead, Jameson. You and I both know you’re embellishing the truth. Nobody threw themselves at you. Nobody forced you to have repeated sex. You were an equally active participant in that relationship. Now sit down and tell me about running into him again.”
I couldn’t sit. Moving kept me calmer, so I mapped the length of the room, back and forth. “He was there.”
“Did you talk to him?”
“Yeah. We … shared a smoke on break.”
“Go on.”
“That was it.”
“Is he why you didn’t attend this past week?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I went, but I was late because I was with Geraldine. He was sitting in his car, and I approached him. I don’t know why. Maybe to find out why he wasn’t going inside. I don’t fucking know. Ended up, neither of us went in. We sat on my tailgate and shared a drink.”
“Alcohol?”
I glared at her calm, unwavering eyes that hadn’t stopped watching me. She’d made it clear my drinking was out of hand, and, when mixed with my prescription drugs, could screw up how they worked. “Yeah.”
“So, you invited him to have a drink with you instead of attending therapy.” Again, not a question but her way of summing up and confirming my story.
“Yeah.”
“How does it make you feel being around Oakland again after all these years?”
I stopped at the window and looked out. Traffic was busy with the end of the workday rush hour. “I don’t know.”
“I imagine there is a lot of stuff going on inside that head of yours. Oakland marks a pivotal time in your life. Does his presence elicit anger?”
“Yes. A lot.”
“At him or at yourself?”
I thought about her question, turning it around in my head. “Mostly myself,” I mumbled.
“Interesting. Do you still feel sexual attraction toward Oakland?”
“I’m not fucking queer,” I yelled, spinning and lancing her with daggers.
She was stoic through every outburst, never backing down, always challenging me. The woman was half my size but exuded more power than anyone I knew.
“I’m going to take a stab in the dark and guess Oakland is responsible for the bruises on your face. You provoked him to get violent so you could punish yourself for feeling attracted to him.”
I clenched my fists, needing to punch or throw something. The burning rage was taking over, and all I saw was red.
“And if you break another chair in my office, I’m charging you for it. Think before you act, and sit down.”
It took five minutes to regain my balance. I dropped onto the couch and cracked my knuckles, squeezing my fists over and over.
“What you feel is perfectly normal. You are not tainted. You do not have the devil inside you. Jameson, you do not need to keep punishing yourself for how you feel about men.”
“I’m not gay.”
She sighed. It was a battle she wouldn’t win.
The next Thursday morning, I woke up jittery. All day, my thoughts veered toward Oakland, whether I wanted them to or not. Would he show up tonight? If he did, would I talk to him? Did I want to?
No, absolutely not!
My bruises were fading, but their reason for existing had haunted my dreams every night since. I worked robotically through my days. It had taken until Monday for Rusty to pull me into his office for a stern lecture, and I’d promised to keep myself in check. They were empty promises, and he knew it, especially when I couldn’t sit properly on the hard, plastic chair in his office without wincing.
It had been a rough weekend, and I had sought more punishment at the bar Friday and Saturday night.
After work, I drove home, showered, and headed to Geraldine’s. I stopped in at the main office of the retirement villa and let them know I would be visiting Geraldine for a while and might be taking her out. The receptionist, a woman in her late twenties, smiled that special smile she reserved for me alone.
“She’ll be happy to see you, James. She’s been talking about you all week.”
I returned Shawna’s smile and gave her a wave, intent on heading over to Geraldine’s. At the door to the office, I pivoted, catching her eye again and fumbling with my thoughts. More than once, I’d considered asking her out. She was a pretty girl with long dark hair and doe eyes, and she always paid me special attention. But whenever I tried broaching the subject, the words caught in my throat. It shouldn’t have been that hard. It was the natural way of things. Men and women. Dating. Marrying. Kids. My mother would be thrilled if I actually brought someone to the house who wasn’t some made-up fantasy girlfriend.
But then my fucked-up brain took over.
It was always ten steps ahead of me, and I wondered what would happen if Shawna said yes. We would go to dinner, maybe we would catch a movie, then what? When I considered those more intimate moments—kissing, touching, fucking—my gut roiled, and ants crawled under my skin. It took everything in me to suppress a shudder.
It fueled my self-hatred. Rage burned in my core.
This wasn’t how I was supposed to feel.
My smile fell, and I darted out the door, sick to my stomach, leaving Shawna with a look of confusion on her face. If I could carve these feelings out of me and replace them with the right ones, I would have a long time ago. I’d tried bleeding them away, endlessly, but nothing worked.
I knocked on Geraldine’s door before letting myself in with the keys I had picked up in the office.
“Hello? Gerry? It’s James.”
