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Rectify

Page 73

by Marley Valentine

“And I’m trying not to love him. So, where does that leave us?”

“I had no idea it was so serious.”

“What does it matter?” I ask, throwing my hands in the air. “I forgave the unforgivable, it means you should too.”

18

Jay

Twelve Years Earlier

“To what do I owe this pleasure, Michaels?”

He stands against the brick wall, cigarette in hand, ball cap hiding his eyes.“I need a favour.”

I never thought I’d live to see the day Jagger Michaels asked me for anything. In our not so perfect world, I hate him, and he most definitely hates me.

“What is it?”

He takes the last drag of his cigarette and flicks it on the road. “You know Sasha and I got a kid, right?”

I don’t tell him that when I found out, I lost my shit, wishing it was mine. “I heard.”

Sasha Allman, will always be the one that got away. My weakness. A soft enough spot that I will talk to a guy I’ve hated for as long as I can remember, and give him anythingsheneeds

“I need money for my family. I need you to vouch for me with George so I can earn a bit on the side.”

For Sasha, and Sasha alone, I momentarily rid myself of the hate, and talk to him man to man.

“Listen, Jagger. That’s a bad idea.”

“I need the money,” he repeats.

“So just work a normal job .”

“I am, but what fucking job is going to give me enough money to rent a place within the next two months.”

He lights up another cigarette, and offers me one. I take the cancer stick and the lighter off him. Like old friends who smoke in the alleyways, and shoot shit.

“You can’t just switch that shit on and off.” I warn. “George will try and tie you to him for life.”

“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.” It’s naive of him, but I don’t bother worrying about where he’ll end up. Only Sasha.

“And what about Sasha? She okay with this?”

No chance in hell.

“Do you think I’m fucking stupid?” he scoffs

I bite my tongue, because the obvious answer is yes.

“She can’t ever know,” he adds.

“This is all well and good, but what do I get in return?”

As if the concept of favours is actually lost on him, he quips up a brow. “What do you want?”

I pretend to mull it over for effect. “I want Sasha.”