Page 58 of James

After shaking off some bystanders, they got into the solitude of the waiting truck. “Your ex, I presume?” James inquired in the quiet.

Laura barely managed a nod before she started laughing hysterically. When her laughter dissolved into tears, James held her. Eventually she started hiccupping and coughing.

After she had calmed down, she confirmed it was indeed her ex. They sat for a while. Both were dumfounded by the events of the night.

"James," Laura began hesitantly, her voicefilled with concern, "I... I recorded the whole thing. I have it on video. Do you think we should press charges?"

James's brows furrowed. After a brief pause, he replied, "I'm not sure, Laura. I don't want to bring back too many painful memories for you. It's important to consider the consequences before we make a decision."

Appreciating his concern, she said, "You're right. It's a big decision, and I don't want to rush into anything. Let's sleep on it and discuss it in the morning. We can weigh our options and think about what's best for us."

James reached out and gently squeezed her hand, offering reassurance, then started up the engine. They drove home in silence with Jake’s memory like a ghost riding between them

Laura crawled to the kitchen table and pulled herself up by the leg. His anger was worse tonight and it seemed to be escalating with each day. Blood trickled down her face and breathing hurt. Probably her ribs again. She scrambled for her phone. She couldn’t call her sister. With two young children and a seriously ill husband, Suzie had enough on her plate. “Hi, Dad.” She tried to make her voice sound normal. “I-I fell, um, down the stairs and hit my head. I think I might need stitches.”

But it had been Jake’s voice coming through the phone: “I think you’re going to need some, too,” he purred, and then his hands were around her neck and the phone dropped from her flailing hand, Jake screaming from behind her, from the phone, from everywhere: “It’s not over! It’s not over until I sayit’s over! You’re mine, you fat fucking cow! Til death do us fucking part!”

Laura startled awake and looked around, frightened and disorientated. A silhouette of a man was beside her in the bed. She almost screamed before she realized it had been a bad dream. It had been so real, so close to the last time when she had finally asked for help. She was at James’s place, and it was James in bed next to her. She was safe. Her eye fell on a clock on the nightstand, almost 3:00 am. She looked back at James. Thank the Lord he was nothing like her ex.

Laura settled back on her pillow and tried to relax, but sleep was a long time coming.

The next day, they were having a late breakfast when the doorbell rang. James answered it to find two uniformed police officers at the door. “Are you James Black?” the older officer asked.

“I am.”

“Do you know a Jake Taylor?” the officer continued.

James reached up and rested the palm of his left hand on the top of the door. “Not really. We sort of met last night. What’s this about?”

A soft, curvy body pressed against his back as Laura came up behind him, her voice laced with tension. She explained the connection between Jake and herself, revealing that he was her ex-husband and the man who had accosted them the night before.

“Mr. Taylor tells a different story,” the younger of the two officers said. “He’s filed a complaint accusingyou of assault. You’ll have to come down to the station with us.”

James sensed a shift in Laura's energy as her body tensed and her eyes blazed with anger. She stepped beside him, facing off the policemen, and offering him support. “This was all Jake’s fault. How dare he try to blame James? I’m coming, too. I have proof that it was self-defense.”

The cops’ eyes were not without sympathy, but they looked at her with the kind of professional emotional distance that said they’d probably been in the middle of a thousand domestic disputes and heard a lot of heated protests from people who’d done a lot of crimes. “You’re welcome to meet us there, ma’am, but Mr. Black has to come with us, now,” said the senior officer.

“It’s okay,” said James, touching Laura’s shoulder with a reassuring, warm hand. “Let me get my coat and we’ll just go sort this out.”

Laura walked into the station, her eyes scanning the room until they landed on a uniformed officer. He led her to a small room where a woman in plainclothes stood, introducing herself as Detective Sergeant Paula Stone. As Laura settled into the seat and removed her coat, the detective began the interview, delving into questions about her relationship with James. Laura's patience wore thin quickly, her voice edged with frustration.

“I understand you need to gather information, but can we please focus on why Jake attacked James and me last night?” Exasperated, Laura threw her hands in the air. “Did you even talk to the staff at the movie theater?They saw him accost me. They surely saw who threw the first punch. How he can walk up and throw a punch at me and I’m the one who has to explain myself?!”

“We’ll get into that, Ms. Turner. Right now, I’m asking these questions because Mr. Taylor also alleges you are in an abusive relationship with Mr. Black,” Det. Stone explained.

“That’s outrageous!” Laura exclaimed. “The only abusive relationship I’ve ever been in was the one I had with Jake Taylor when we were married. That’s the reason we’re divorced.”

“Do you have proof of this abuse, Ms. Turner?” The policewoman’s face was like granite.

Laura exhaled. “Yes, there’s a scar here on my hairline from the kitchen counter when Jake hit me just before I left him. I also had to make multiple visits to the emergency room. I’m sure the hospital has the records. They took photos at the time and I used them to get a restraining order during the divorce. You should be able to look all that up, but if not, I have copies of everything at home, too.”

“What about the marks you have today? Is Mr. Taylor also responsible for them?” Det. Stone inquired skeptically. She indicated the rope marks on Laura’s shoulder that were clearly visible where her top had slipped down.

Laura struggled to maintain her composure. She had dressed so quickly, she hadn’t even thought to make sure the rope marks would be covered. “Do you know anything about BDSM?” Laura asked politely.

“I’ve seenFifty Shades of Grey,” the detective replied impassively “I didn’t care for it. It seemed like abuse to me, and I’ve seen a lot of abuse.”

“Well,Fifty Shades of Greyis not a particularly goodexample of what BDSM is about anyway.” Laura’s mind raced. “James and I have a Dominant/submissive relationship. All we do is safe, sane, and consensual. I have a safeword and I use it if I need to. Believe me when I tell you that James is a considerate man. He’s good to me and protective of me.”

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