The Tornado Page 13

  My mind flashed back to all the media hype about Asher’s alleged affair with the wife of a fallen Marine. The best friend he mentioned to me once; the one who had died saving him. But I was beginning to see Asher, really see him, and I couldn’t believe that was true. Not for a single second. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t need to. I knew it was a lie. “I think that had a lot to do with why I joined the Marines—was looking for that brotherhood I never had at home.”

  I nodded thoughtfully. "I'm sorry," I said finally. "About the things you've gone through. And losing your friend."

  Asher nodded in acknowledgment, looking out his side of the window. "Thanks," he replied, turning his head back to mine. "It’s nothing like what you’re struggling with, but I have my own. I can understand where you're coming from. And I can definitely attest to the fact that there is life after that."

  "You might be right," I said quietly.

  I would never have imagined that someone like Asher could be as introspective as he was being right now. I think that’s why I decided to share a little more with him then.

  “Jackson James…” I said, my words choking in my throat. I couldn’t say his name without bile threatening to rise in my throat. “I-I thought my role in this was all over.” I pulled an envelope from my bag slowly, and handed it to him. "Then I got this in the mail last Tuesday...That was why I was so upset that night, the night you came to return my medication."

  Asher took the certified letter's envelope and reached inside, pulling out a sheet of folded paper. He skimmed it quickly and read my subpoena to appear in court next month at one of Jackson James' trial. He glanced up at me.

  "They can't arrest you or anything if you don't testify," he said, folding the paper and slipping it back into the envelope. "They can't force you." He handed it back.

  "I know," I murmured, taking the envelope and stuffing it back into my bag. "My lawyer told me the same thing, since I was the victim of the assault. But he also said that because I'm the only survivor, my testimony could potentially put him away for longer than he might get without testimony. The prosecution is going for the death penalty."

  Asher looked at me carefully. "And what do you think about that?" he asked.

  I sighed. "I don't want to do this," I admitted quietly. "I don't want to sit in a courtroom with him, in the same room as him, where he can look at me and think about me and remember what he did to me." I bit my lip. "But then I think about those women, the ones who didn't get up and walk away and I feel like I have to do it for them and their families." I paused again, staring at a spot on the dashboard. "I would have wanted the same thing done for me."

  Asher nodded slowly. "I think you're brave enough to handle it," he said.

  I scoffed. "You joking?" I asked, my eyebrows knitted together. "Where have you been the last two months?"

  Asher shrugged. "I saw you get attacked in my gym, and then come back shortly after that anyway," he said. "I've seen you battle through your anxiety issues, face down a crowd of drunken assholes and walk through them even though you were scared. I've seen you take your own well being into your own hands, with coming to the gym, taking up boxing. You live by yourself, you take care of yourself, and you're still working toward your dreams." Asher lifted his eyebrows at me. "That takes balls, in my opinion. You might be struggling emotionally, but you've picked yourself back up. Try to think of this trial as one last 'fuck you, you didn't break me'."

  "But maybe he did," I replied quietly.

  Asher shook his head. "No way," he said firmly. "I see you," he added. "I know balls when I see them."

  The statement was so funny, sounded so wrong to both our ears, that we burst out laughing. As I quieted down, I weighed his words and flushed under his praise.

  "We'll see," I said. "I've still got a little while to decide." Asher nodded. I folded my lips inward, studying him. I wanted to say more, but decided that it was best to leave well enough alone for now. "Okay. Let’s do this."

  We got out of the car and moved across the courtyard in the middle of the apartment complex and up the stairs toward my parents' unit. "I hope you're hungry," I said, my voice a warning. "My mother will take it as a personal insult if you don't eat a lot."

  "No worries there," he said easily. "Far be it from me to insult the chef."

  I couldn't take it anymore. "Why are you so calm?"

  "Why are you so wound up?" he immediately returned, lifting his scarred eyebrow at me.

  "Because I know them," I said. "I know what they're capable of, I've seen what they can do to a man—"

  Asher laughed again and shook his head. "Sorry. Not laughing at you. Just you talk about your family like they're violent insurgents or criminals or something."

  I briefly considered his words and decided he might not be totally off base with that comment. "I have seen what each of my sisters have gone through. I've participated in what they've gone through—now it's my turn. They're ready for payback."

  "Just relax, Jewel," he said, nudging me gently with his elbow. "Let's just have a good time. I'm looking forward to this."

  I looked up at him doubtfully, but let the matter rest. I knocked on the door, and I could already hear the loud voices of my uncle and father dominating whatever conversation was being had.

  Finally the door opened and my mother stood in the doorway. "Juliet!" She kissed my cheek. "Honey. You're late!"

  "Five minutes, Ma," I said.

  "Yes, yes," my mother said, pushing me inside by the shoulder. She beamed at Asher and held out her hands. "And you must be Asher." He offered his hand but she ignored it and gently took his face into her hands instead, touching her cheeks to each of his. I hid a smile at the look of mild surprise on his face. "Come in, come in."

  She led us into the living room where my father and my uncle were sitting on the sofas with my brothers-in-law, discussing some sporting event. My father glanced up as Asher entered the room behind me. I cleared my throat nervously.

  "Daddy," I said, moving to my father's side and bending down to kiss his cheek.

  "How ya doin', cupcake?" he asked mildly, but his steady gaze was on Asher. I didn't miss it and cleared my throat again.

  "Daddy, this is Asher. Asher, this is my father."

  My father glanced up impassively at Asher as he moved toward him. Asher extended his hand. "It's nice to meet you, sir," Asher said. "Thank you for having me in your home."

  Dad’s face stayed impassive, but I saw a gleam of appreciation and respect in my father's eyes and felt immense relief. My father rose to his feet and reached out and clasped Asher's hand, giving it a firm shake, and I noticed a light smile form on my father's face. It was a good sign; it meant that Asher's handshake had been equally as firm.

  "Anytime, Asher," my father said. "I'd like you to meet my brother, Gino."

  Asher shifted his gaze to Uncle Gino, who gave him a mere nod and took his proffered hand. "Nice to meet you, too, sir."

  "And these two bums," my father went on, "are my sons-in-law."

  "Ryan," Rachael's husband said, rising to his feet and offering Asher a handshake and a wide smile.

  "Vinnie," Alexis's husband said, doing the same. "Huge fan, man. Wow—you’re much bigger in person." I rolled my eyes.

  "Oh, thanks," Asher said with a humble nod, but I knew he was uncomfortable with any recognition of his MMA star status.

  "Fan o' what?" Uncle Gino demanded grumpily.

  "Gino, you don't know this kid?" my father said, surprising me. He reached out and clapped Asher's shoulder. "He was in all the papers last year. Big MMA guy. Won Sparta. Used to be a Marine."

  "Jeez, Dad," I said. "Didn't know you knew his whole bio."

  "What, I get it wrong?" my father demanded. He glanced at Asher. "Am I wrong, kid?"

  "No, sir," Asher said calmly.

  "See?" my father continued, reaching out to pinch my cheeks. "Your old man knows what he's talkin' about."

  "He's a hometown celebrity," Vinnie
added. "Nah, forget that. He's a national celebrity!" I rolled my eyes. I knew Vinnie would inevitably ask for Asher's autograph at some point tonight. Asher stood amicably, but I knew him well enough by now to know how uncomfortable he was with it.

  "Okay, okay," I said. "Give him a break, he just walked in."

  "What's that you got there?" my father asked Asher, pointing to the bag in his hand.

  Asher glanced down as though he'd forgotten he'd been holding it. "Wine, sir. I thought you and your family might enjoy it."

  "Let me see this," Dad said musingly, pulling the bottle out of the bag. He examined the label and nodded. "This is your mother's favorite, Jewel,” he said, grinning. “Look, Gino." He held the bottle up so Uncle Gino could read the label and he nodded his approval.

  "Very good," Uncle Gino commented.

  "Thanks, Asher," my father said, then handed the bottle to me. "Take that in the kitchen. Go help your mother and your sisters." He cupped my face in his hands and kissed me on both of my cheeks. "Go on. Let us men talk. Hey, you want a beer, Asher?"

  "No, sir, but thank you," he said. "I don’t drink. But water would be great. Thank you."

  "Jewel, go get the man his drink, will ya?" my father said, waving me off. Dad was smiling, and I knew that he was appreciating all the respect that Asher was showing him.

  I hustled into the kitchen, seeing my mother stirring a big steel pot on the stove. Alexis and Rachael were standing by the sink, talking and laughing.

  "Hey, there she is," Rachael said with a grin. "The disco queen."

  "Ugh, I hate you two," I mumbled. "Don't ever feed me tequila again."

  "Bad night?" Alexis asked, raising her brow.

  "Something like that. Look, Ma," I said, changing the subject. "Wine. Your favorite. Asher brought it for you. Daddy's holding him hostage in the living room or else he would have given it to you himself."

  "Oh, let me see that," my mother said, turning around. She took the bottle and peered over the top of her glasses. "Oh, it is my favorite! What a sweet, thoughtful boy. And very handsome too."

  "Yes he is, and don’t forget those lips,” Alexis grinned.

  “You’re as bad as Vinnie,” I scoffed. “He’s practically drooling out there.”

  “Oh God. How bad is it?” she asked with a grimace.

  “Bad. He’s already pointed out how big Asher is,” I said, shaking my head.

  “Then we really should go say hi," Alexis said, smiling innocently. “Save him from my hubby.”

  I held up a hand. "You leave him alone. Between your groupie husband and Uncle Gino, he's got his hands full." I pulled out a bottle of water and poured it into a glass.

  “Okay girls, dinner is ready,” my mother notified.

  Alexis and Rachael were smiling at me, and Rachael started to rub her hands together.

  "Be nice," I whispered. I’d meant for it to come out as a demand, but it sounded like a plea.

  My sisters exchanged a look and then Alexis drew her finger across her throat. I sighed, closing my eyes, and making a silent prayer.

  Everyone immediately sat at the table in the dining room, waiting for my mother to bring out the dinner. "Some help, Ma?" I called out.

  "No, no," my mother's voice answered from the kitchen. "I got it!"

  "So, Asher," Alexis began and I sighed heavily, fixing my sister with an annoyed look. "The wine. Nice touch."

  Asher nodded beside me. "Hope you like it."

  "We prefer white, actually," Rachael said rudely. "Where's the Pinot Grigio?"

  "It's wherever you left it," I interjected. "Oh, wait. You didn't bring any. Because you're a selfish bitch." I made a silly face to temper my words.

  "Hey, language at the table, kids," my father warned. "The wine was a nice gesture, thanks, Asher. You girls want anything else, you buy it and stop complaining about gifts."

  "So, you really tied one on last night, baby sis," Rachael said sweetly, ignoring my pointed and fervent glances.

  "What's that mean?" my father grumbled. He looked at me. "You were drinkin' last night?"

  "She got crazy drunk," Alexis said bluntly.

  "Only because you guys made me!" I insisted hotly. "Ordering all those shots, making me drink them."

  "I don't recall pouring anything down your throat," Rachael pointed out.

  "How did you get home?" my father asked, ignoring us. "You didn't ride the bus drunk, did you?"

  "Who was drunk?" My mother appeared and placed a heaping plate of pasta and meat sauce in front of Dad and then one in front of Uncle Gino.

  "Your daughter," Rachael informed her.

  "Juliet!" my mother yelled, smacking me on the shoulder before turning for the kitchen again.

  "No, I didn't ride the bus, Pop," I said, offering Asher some bread as a distraction.

  "Well, did Ruby take you home?" Dad asked, his voice hard.

  "Uh, no…" I mumbled. My father was like a bloodhound. He would always catch the scent when something didn't sit well with him. I popped a large mushroom in my mouth and glanced at Asher who was sitting quietly. "Uh, Asher took me home," I said around the mushroom, covering my mouth and hoping my father wouldn't make out my garbled words.

  "He took you home?" my father repeated, glancing at Asher. "Home to your apartment? Late at night. When you were drunk?"

  "Just to make sure she got home safely, sir," Asher spoke up reassuringly. "I wouldn't let something bad happen to her." My father nodded at his words but continued to glare at me.

  "It's your daughters' faults, anyway," I added. "They kept buying me shots and making me drink them."

  "They tied you down?" my father asked rhetorically. "They pumped tequila down your throat?"

  "No, Pop," I sighed, glaring murderously at my sisters.

  You bitches.

  Alexis winked at me and Rachael blew me a kiss. Asher let out a low chuckle but covered it up with a cough when I turned my glare on him. That, in turn, made Ryan and Vinnie start laughing. I glanced around the table with narrowed eyes. I wished I could pelt them with marinated artichokes and mushrooms.

  Thankfully, my mother arrived again with more food. When everyone was served, everyone lost themselves in the flavorful dishes.

  "This is delicious, ma'am," Asher said to my mother. "Really. One of the best meals I ever had."

  I beamed at him from over my glass of water as Ma smiled modestly and waved a hand dismissively in the air. "Oh, thank you," she said. Then she pointed at him. "You make sure you eat," she warned. "I know you're an athlete of some kind so you need a good meal in you."

  "Yes, ma'am," Asher said obediently.

  "So, Asher, you follow baseball?" my father asked, sipping at his wine.

  "Yes, sir," Asher replied.

  "Yeah? Who do you like for the playoffs?"

  "Well, being born and mostly raised in Pittsburgh makes me a Pirates fan automatically," he answered, and smiled when Dad made a noise of distaste and waved him off. "But for the playoffs…I'd have to say Yankees all the way."

  I’d been holding my breath, realizing I'd neglected to coach Asher on the proper baseball teams. Luckily, he'd picked the right one.

  "Damn right, Yankees all the way," my father said, nodding his head firmly. "What do you think about the Red Sox?"

  It was a test.

  I kicked and stomped Asher's foot under the table, harder than necessary, and he glanced over at me. I kept my eyes on my plate but shook my head quickly, clearing my throat.

  Asher picked it up immediately. "Nah, not a Sox fan, sir," he said.

  "Me either, and that's ‘cos they suck," my father said bluntly. "Bunch of degenerates, they are."

  "Degenerates, Daddy?" I asked, raising my eyebrows. "Really?"

  "Hey, Asher," Vinnie said. "Saw you on ESPN about the Ithaca tournament. You ready for that?"

  Asher bobbed his head. "I think so," he replied. "Been working hard, training a lot."

  "What's that?" Uncle Gino asked. "This Ithaca thin
g."

  "A tournament, Uncle Gino," Vinnie replied. "A big MMA tournament."

  "What the hell is this MMA crap?" Uncle Gino asked.

  "It's like fighting, Unc," Ryan chimed in. "Like martial arts and boxing all in one. The guys, they beat the shit out of each other in cages. It's better than wrestling!"

  "Oh, fightin'," Uncle Gino said. He glanced at Asher and nodded. I wasn't sure if it was with approval or merely acknowledgment. My uncle had always been a big fan of boxing. It had been the reason why I’d started to learn to box back in New York.

  "When is this tournament?" my father asked.

  Asher glanced back toward him. "Next month," he answered. "It's in Buffalo."

  "I gotta see one of them things, one day," my father said musingly. "Is that gonna be on TV?"

  Asher nodded again. "Yes, sir. It'll be on ESPN."

  "I'll have to tune in, maybe watch you fight," Dad said. "I always liked the fights, myself."

  The conversation went on pleasantly, and I gradually started to relax. Asher seemed to be perfectly comfortable. He had a lot in common as far as interests went with Ryan and Vinnie, and even promised to work with them in the gym if they ever wanted to come by. My father was warming up more and more to Asher, and even my sisters seemed to be sort of behaving themselves. They teased me occasionally and poked fun at me, but I knew they were just being my big sisters. I knew that they both liked Asher.

  My mother forced Asher to eat a second plate, which made my own full stomach churn, but Asher barely batted an eye. When everyone was done eating and bemoaning how full they were, my mother started clearing off the dinner plates.

  "I'll help, Ma," I said, getting to my feet. I picked up some of the dishes and headed into the kitchen with my mother.

  "You know, sweetheart," Ma said, drawing my attention, "I really like that boy. He's so polite. Seems so quiet and respectful. He's good to you?"

  I smiled. "Yes, Ma," I replied. "He is."

  "Does he..." She stopped and swallowed. "Does he know?"