I never realized how much I missed her and her friendship until right this minute, sitting here next to her in the hospital. I can’t help the guilt that overwhelms me, wondering if I’d been a better friend, then maybe this wouldn’t have happened to her.
“So, Jed did this?” I ask her quietly.
She nods without saying a word, and I watch as another tear falls down her bruised cheek.
I didn’t really need to ask her to confirm my suspicions, but I needed something to say before I broke down in tears right along with her. Emma Jo admitting that I was the only person she could trust with this was all the confirmation I needed. All those pushes in the ass I gave her growing up, pushed her right into the arms of Jed Jackson our sophomore year of high school. Jed was two years older than us, a senior at the time, and I never liked him. He was a popular jock and a bully, but for some reason, he made Emma Jo happy. When your best friend tells you she’s getting married the week after high school, you keep your mouth shut and wish her the best, because you just want her to always be as happy as she is right in that moment.
My mother keeps me up-to-date with all the latest Bald Knob gossip whenever we talk on the phone, so I already knew Jed Jackson ran the town and everyone who lived there was halfway in love with him. Because of his good looks, fake charming personality, and how he’s the seventh generation of Jacksons to rule over Bald Knob, I understood why Emma Jo thought I was the only person she could trust. I’m not under Jed Jackson’s spell now, nor have I ever been.
“It started a month after we got married,” she admits quietly, sniffling through her tears and still refusing to look up at me. “You know he’s the mayor of Bald Knob, right?”
I nod, not saying anything as she takes a deep breath and continues.
“I know it’s a small town, but he’s still under a lot of pressure all the time. It’s hard being the wife of the most popular man in town, and you know I like to keep to myself. All those functions we have to attend and parties we have to throw at our house, and then there’s voting year when things get even more stressful and hectic…”
She’s making excuses for the rat bastard and I can’t stand it. I want to scream at her, I want to shake some sense into her, and I want to stand her in front of a mirror and remind her that plenty of husbands have stress, but they don’t leave their wives looking like she does right now. But I don’t do any of that. I know it’s not what she needs. What she needs is my confidence and one more swift push in the ass for old time’s sake.
Leaning forward, I hit the red call button on the bed railing.
“What are you doing?” Emma Jo asks when the static voice of a nurse comes through the speaker next to the button asking what we need.
“Could we get a doctor in here immediately? Ms. Jackson is ready to leave, and we need to get the discharge paperwork started,” I talk toward the speaker.
The nurse confirms that she’ll send someone in right away and I push up from my chair, pulling the blanket off of Emma Jo’s legs as I go.
“I’m busting you out of here,” I state, answering her question as I bend down and wrap my arms around her waist to help her out of bed, careful to move her slowly and not hurt her ribs.
“Payton, I can’t go home. He’s out of town today, but he’ll be back tomorrow night.”
Her voice is even more quiet and timid than normal, and now it’s shaking with fear.
“Good. We have time to change the locks and file a restraining order. And when he shows up tomorrow, I’ll be nice and rested and full of enough coffee to tell him to go fuck himself,” I reassure her, trying my best to keep the rage out of my voice as I leave her leaning against the edge of the bed and go to the small closet to grab her clothes.
“But people will see me. They’ll know,” she whispers uneasily.
When I pull out a white Bald Knob Wildcats t-shirt and see splatters of blood on the neck, chest and arms, I forget all about keeping the anger out of my voice so I don’t freak her out. Tossing the shirt into the garbage can next to the closet, I walk back over to Emma Jo and squat down to my rolling suitcase, pulling out a pair of black dress pants similar to the ones I’m wearing and a peach sleeveless sweater, handing them to her as I stand back up.
“So, let them see you. Let them know that the man they elected to run that town is nothing but a dickless pussy with shit for brains,” I speak through clenched teeth when she gently takes the clothes from my hands. “Maybe if we’re lucky, the whole town will turn on him and burn him at the stake in the middle of the town square. If not, I’m just gonna need a hell of a lot more coffee so I can be in the right frame of mind to plot his death.”