Reggie's Girl Ch. 07

Reggie offered her a fleeting smile, his eyes serious. "I know, baby," he said quietly. "I gave up trying to be mad, too. Loving you just comes more natural. And while we're on the subject of things that come natural, I got you a little something."

Surprising her, he stepped right around her and walked to a small table behind the couch. He slid open the single drawer, reached in and tossed her a slim light box.

Jasmine caught it by reflex then stared at the lavish ivory giftwrapping and ribbons frothing out of her hands. At her perplexed look he simply nodded at it. "Open it."

"What is it?"

"A suggestion from a pretty infallible source. No way you'll be offended by this."

That eliminated her remaining hesitation and she carefully began to strip away the voluminous wrapping. When she'd laid the box bare, her eyebrows shot up and her lips parted.

But all she said was, "Oh."

Now it was Reggie who was feeling prickly as hell but he managed to quell the demanding note in his question, "You approve?"

Jasmine sent him a wondering, wary look but she was smiling too. "Made out of a hundred percent organic materials? How could I not? I've never had eco-friendly tampons before."

He suspected she was being the tiniest bit facetious but he couldn't care less. She was smiling at him, quite warmly in fact, which was an excellent start.

"They claim to be more than just eco-friendly as a company," he remarked. "Being founded by actual menstruators, they say they put a higher priority on design and comfort. I'll tell you right now, there'll be hell to pay if it's all shady marketing-"

"I'm sure it isn't. Really." Jasmine popped the box open and peeked inside. "The quality's closer to silk than cotton. These are really, really nice, Reggie. Thank you."

He lifted a hand. "Don't thank me yet. Not until you can give me an honest review."

"I'm sure I'll never use anything else, but okay. I'll tell you."

Reggie wanted to press her for an exact time but decided against it. Why push his luck?

"I would tell you," she added, "if I thought I was pregnant. I hope you know that."

He did now.

Jasmine drew an unsteady breath as she slid the box into her jeans pocket. She looked to the side then met his eyes again with new determination. "After everything that's happened, Reggie, I'd like it if we could... I mean, it feels like we've got a chance now to..."

"You asking me to be your boyfriend, sugar?" His voice was teasing but his intent, they both understood, was not. She didn't shriek yes and leap into his arms, however.

"Well, I remember what you told me," she mused, her voice turning cold. "You're also seeing someone else, several of them in fact. I think I even met one here, in your foyer, and..."

Reggie would not come to her aid. "And?" he prompted when she stumbled into embarrassed silence.

She shot him a virulent glare. "Well, I'm not going to be one more mistress!"

The defiance of that announcement was punctuated by the musical chime of the doorbell. She turned as if expecting to see the visitors already standing behind them.

Jasmine whirled round again when he answered her. "Done!"

"Done? What's done?" she demanded in a lowered voice. A suspicious frown creased her brow. "And who's that at the door?"

"I mean, Jasmine, that you are my girlfriend," he explained with elaborate patience, "and I'm your boyfriend. Clear enough?"

Reggie moved to her side, hooked an arm around her waist and dragged her along to the door. "As for who's at the door," he went on lightly, "let's go see, shall we?"

* * *

Whatever Jasmine had expected when Tiny had delivered her here, meeting Reggie's mother and ex-wife had not been it. The two women seemed just as thrown by the sight of her, standing in the living room by Reggie's side, his arm around her as he serenely made the introductions.

The older woman was the first to recover, stepping forward and extending her hand with a polite smile. "Jasmine, it's a pleasure. Please, call me Renée."

Jasmine, even in her paranoid state, couldn't detect any disapproval or sarcasm in her greeting. Not that it relaxed her any. "Likewise," she gasped.

Renée shot her a look both sympathetic and challenging. Buck up, missy! Her handshake was firm and Jasmine was amazed at how much comfort she drew from the deliberate squeeze his mother gave her fingers.

His first ex-wife, Charis, was a tad more reserved, but in no way that could be mistaken for hostility. Her smile was friendly but her gaze on her was direct and searching. Jasmine resisted avoiding it, tried not to feel dwarfed by the other woman's elegance.

She was dressed in a suit of darkest navy, simple, even stark yet obviously expensive. A stylish hat in the same shade swooped over her left eye atop a shining black chignon.

Renée wore no hat but showed off a shock of lightning-white hair, short and attractively dressed. Twin strands of pearls were all the jewelry she wore with her loose charcoal chiffon dress.

Both women were quite petite, but Jasmine didn't feel her slightly greater height to be any particular advantage. Especially before the older woman, whose gold-flecked brown eyes totally threw her off.

"If you need to be alone," Jasmine ventured uncertainly, looking around her at each of them, "I could go..."

"No!" Reggie and Charis said at the same time. His mother shook her head.

"No, no. That won't be necessary."

Oh well, worth a shot. "Some refreshment then? It's such a miserable day out. Would hot coffee and sandwiches be good?"

"I'd like that," Charis said in relieved tones.

"Sweet tea for me, dear," Renée said as she settled herself into the nearest couch. "But I'm looking forward to those sandwiches."

Jasmine had never paid much attention to the posh households she sometimes accompanied her mother to. Or so she'd thought. In Reggie's well-stocked kitchen, the details came rushing back so she knew she had the ingredients of some of the fancy sandwiches she'd eaten in those houses.

Soon she had a plateful of crustless little triangles, made with fragrant wholegrain bread sliced wafer-thin and various fillings: pâté de foie gras, flaked crab and roast beef.

The coffee she prepared to her own taste, figuring Charis would prefer that to Reggie's rather freakish style. The sweet tea she made almost on autopilot, the way her Nana liked it.

The ladies fell on the sandwiches with gusto. While they expressed their vocal appreciation Reggie caught her eye and winked his gratitude. She gave him a relieved smile.

"That was absolutely delicious, Jasmine," Renée enthused when they'd eaten their fill.

"Perfection," Charis agreed with a smile. "Thanks for that."

"You're welcome." Jasmine smiled back. "I hope you won't hesitate to tell me if there's anything else I can do for you."

"And such pretty manners," Renée said, but it was directed at her son with a meaningful twinkle in her eye.

"Normally I don't like to share," Reggie commented, idly combing his fingers through Jasmine's hair, "and I'd have liked it if she stayed my little secret for a bit longer. But I'm glad y'all were the first to meet Jasmine, and see first-hand how well she's been taking care of me."

There was a small silence during which it seemed that each woman stared at him with exactly the same deeply touched expression on her face. Jasmine made a little hiccuping sound then quickly ducked her head.

"And I'm not talking about some sandwiches neither," he murmured near her ear, not helping her composure in the slightest.

"I'm glad that is the case," she heard Renée say at last, and she sounded sincere. "You already know how worried I've been, even before your father died. Things were looking real... nasty there at the end."

"Oh, he was angry, alright," Reggie replied equably. "But then again, the man spent his entire life angry."

"I don't know," Renée mused. "It seemed different to me this time. And I would know, having been married to him for as long as I was."

Catching an odd note in her voice, Jasmine studied the older woman's demeanor. Her face was pensive as she looked at her son, as though there was something she would like to ask but wasn't certain she should.

Then coming to an abrupt decision, she said, "The fact is, he was angry at you specifically in the end. I came to make sure you understood that he had no legitimate reason to be."

"Same," said Charis somberly. "He was an evil man - and nobody is better than evil men at making you feel like you owe them everything."

"And guilt is such an insistent emotion, isn't it?" added Renée. "Even when you've done nothing wrong."

"Do you think I've done nothing wrong?" Reggie asked them quietly. They both stared at him, apparently stunned into silence.

Charis was the first to regain her tongue. "Reggie, I hope you haven't been telling yourself all this time that we're condemning you! Because we're not!"

"No, we most definitely do not," his mother said, caught between being affronted and distressed. "Like Charis said, that man was a master at manipulating emotions he didn't even have! It was his greatest weapon, can't tell you how many times he used it against me. To see you resist filled me the kind of relief I ain't felt since the day I walked out on him."

"It was your decision to make," Charis stressed. "Yours alone, and he was never entitled to your forgiveness anyway."

Reggie looked first one woman in the eye then the other, nodding. "Your support means the world to me," he said soberly.

"And you mean the world to me," Renée told him, her expression fierce. Then her gaze drifted to Jasmine, watching the exchange in silent curiosity, and she nodded to herself.

"Well," she rose to her feet, followed by Charis, "we just came by to make sure you were alright. It does my heart good to see you apparently are, and that I'm leaving you in good hands. Jasmine?"

"Yes?" Jasmine leaned against Reggie's steadying hand when she shot up too energetically.

"Keep an eye on him for me, hear?"

"Of course. I've got him, don't worry."

"And Reggie, don't you give this girl no trouble, now."

He flashed a wolfish grin. "Wouldn't dream of it."

"I know you wouldn't," Charis said smoothly. " There are ways of making you regret it otherwise." She smirked at Jasmine. "We should make time for a little girl talk on the subject. Don't you think?"

Jasmine nodded vigorously. "I'll bring a pen and a pad."

No longer grinning, Reggie protested this clear conspiracy against him but his mother refused to come to his aid.

When they were alone again, Jasmine sat very still without saying anything. Then slowly she shifted and turned to him. He sat next to her, hunched over the leftover sandwiches on the coffee table. He picked up one, but rather than put it in his mouth he turned it in his fingers, studying its every corner.

"They were talking," he murmured before she asked, "about my decision to not donate to my father. He needed a bone marrow transplant to save his life. He and I were a perfect match."

Jasmine was glad she was sitting down already. She couldn't speak for a long moment. An unperturbed Reggie took the opportunity to sink his teeth into his sandwich.

"I see," she muttered at last. "No wonder they were so concerned about you." Survivor's guilt was harrowing enough. What Reggie was looking at was potentially much worse, however firmly his mother, Charis and now she herself supported his choice, and his right to make that choice.

"They thought I'd be struggling with remorse for causing the death of my own father," he continued quite steadily. "Which is reasonable on the face of it. But this man terrorized my mother, Jasmine, like you wouldn't believe. I was actually lucky to be born, because he got more violent with her when she was pregnant, not less. Besides that, there's the wreckage he left where a struggling community had been before. Whole generations who came up under the chaos and misery he gifted the world."

Reggie shook his head and chuckled as if relating an amusing anecdote. "They didn't all blame him, though. They'd never known any different. It was just the way things were."

He flicked his fingers in a careless gesture. "Cops were just another gang, obviously not the good guys. Church was all about donations and tithes and sowing seeds, so being good yourself stayed pretty expensive. But my father put money in your left hand and a gun in your right; anyone else offering two types of power? So why not join his army? Sow fear, sell addiction and put food on the table - just like Big Head McComb. The only messiah you can believe in."

He looked as composed and matter-of-fact as he sounded, so much that Jasmine had no idea what to do with her instinct to soothe and comfort. She settled for sliding closer and placing a hand on his shoulder. He shot her a smile, fond and sympathetic.

"I'm not falling apart, Jasmine," Reggie assured her. He held her gaze. "Far from it."

He'd been saying it from the start. The subtle satisfaction had been there all along. But she suddenly was conscious of it. He was telling the truth, she realized in a slight daze.

He wasn't mourning; he harbored zero regrets over his choices, still less over his father.

Reggie looked at her, a tiny smirk flirting at the edges of his lips. "Understand: I made the decision to live my life as the antithesis of my father as a boy. It got me through the worst of times because I always knew I'd do it. And I did. He took from people who never hurt him, I tried to give back. He hurt every girl and woman he knew, I showed them respect and tried to earn theirs. And I tried to lift up the exact people he despised most - the vulnerable."

He tossed the last corner of sandwich in his mouth then licked his fingers with rather disproportionate relish. "And now? Kids look up to me the way their older brothers looked up to him. Shit, I even managed to steal a handful of his own crew from under his nose. Tell me, how d'you think I feel about that?"

"I guess..." The answer was obvious, of course, but she was still a little in disbelief. "Proud?"

"Yes." He caught her hand in his, gave it a triumphant squeeze. His eyes were bright and intense upon hers. "I am proud, Jasmine. Not just 'cause I escaped him, not just 'cause I got a bag doing my own thing. This shit's a lot more personal than that - a personal victory."

"I think I... begin to see. You avenged your mom," Jasmine mused slowly. "You even managed to get a little vengeance for your community, too, and finally for... yourself?"

"In that order," Reggie told her, his thorough pleasure with her reply vibrant in his deep voice. "Look how well you understand me."

In all truth, Jasmine was a little unsettled to realize her surmise was correct. Yet she couldn't bring herself to condemn him. In his shoes, she was sure she would feel the same.

The choice to go ahead and let him die was singular in its mercilessness, though. She wondered whether she could have gone that far.

One could always make an excellent case for why she should - but even then, moral theorizing was one thing and action was another. In any case, she thought as a slight hammering began in her temples, Thomas Aquinas she was not.

"Krow was his pet project, you know," Reggie confided with a mirthless smile.

"He was?" Jasmine stared at him, taken aback. He nodded.

"His heir apparent in fact. So when he went missing, it looked like the start of a war. I sure thought it was. And so did the competition."

"Guess it makes sense," she offered. "Striking when your father was weak, they must've seen themselves winning this one."

"That's what I assumed, too. They've been reaching out to just about anyone who'll listen for days now. They want to be very clear they had nothing to do with Krow's disappearance."

Jasmine frowned. "That's bullshit, though. Right?"

He shook his head slowly, staring at the table before him as if seeing through it. "Them boys been shitting their pants ever since Krow went missing. Been expecting all kinds of reprisals because, sick or not, they never doubted my father's commitment to butchery - and now he actually had an excuse."

Reggie straightened his back, running his hands back along his thighs. He looked out of the window, his expression a little dazed and a little wry.

"Lucky for them, though," he drawled, "it was Krow's mentor himself who got him got."

"No!" she exclaimed.

Reggie shrugged, a bit more himself now. "Krow was already on thin ice bragging and fighting all over the place. Then he decided to attack you and, well... apparently that's when it was decided he was a liability. Convincing me to part with my bone marrow was hard enough. So when the little bastard turned up in some condemned building, still blindfolded and still on his knees, that was just the old man's idea of a goodwill gesture."

He shook his head in disgust. "Man was a murderer right to the end."

Jasmine sat in silent shock, absorbing what she'd heard. As she turned it over in her mind, she was reminded uncomfortably of her own assumption that Reggie had gotten rid of Krow. She winced to remember her gushing gratitude, his cool dismissal of it all.

Her voice wry, she said, "You must've loved my reaction when you told me Krow had vanished."

"Why would I judge?" he queried, slanting her a moody glance. "Of course you were relieved that the man who hurt you, ruined your friend's life and made you worry for your mom, was gone. Trust, if anyone in the world can empathize..." He picked up and bit into another sandwich and let her finish for herself.

"I guess you're the one to." She sighed deeply, then hiding her face in his shoulder confessed, "I'm still really glad he's gone."

"I know. So am I."

Imagining Krow asking her for her bone marrow, it became shockingly easy to envision her mean, sneering, hateful refusal. And she'd only met him once.

What must it have been like for Reggie, having lived with the man who'd caused him and his mother such misery?

"I- I don't want to open up any old wounds," Jasmine began haltingly after a minute, "and I'll understand completely if you don't want to, but... will you tell me what it was like? Growing up under him?"

It was undeniable that his upbringing had left lifelong scars. But it had also formed the basis of his character, as she saw it a silver lining that was sterling through and through. So of course she wanted details into this feat of emotional alchemy.

Unless, of course, he would rather not talk about it.

"It ain't pretty, Jasmine," Reggie said in a quiet voice, turning to look her in the eye.

"I don't care." She was done learning about him in tidbits from second-hand sources. "If you went through it I need to hear it."

A beat passed. "Then I'll tell you."

He didn't sugar-coat. He didn't edit out the more gruesome parts. Some parts, like the genesis of the name Big Head, were so absurd that she found herself laughing without wanting to.

He didn't mind. In fact he appeared almost unaware of her, adrift in his memories.

As he went on, Jasmine listened without interruption. When they needed to get more comfortable, they lay back on the couch, she somewhat atop him with her brow on his collarbone. At length he fell silent and nothing more was said for a long time.

At the beginning she had felt sad. Then somewhat battered as he went on without pause or euphemism. Now that he was done, she was in a sort of benumbed state.

Abruptly she lifted herself up to look at his face. He gazed back at her without a word.

"I... None of that was easy to hear. And I know it had to be hard for you to tell it. But thank you for trusting me, Reggie."