Page 55 of Petty's Crime

He stares at me for a moment, then lowers his head into his hands. After rubbing at his temples, he raises his face and stares unseeingly at the wall.

“I was a grunt in the Army. Enjoyed what I did. I was good at taking orders, didn’t want to give any myself.” He pauses to gather his thoughts. “Saw some shit though, can’t deny that. The kind that messes with your fuckin’ mind.” Thinking it’s not time to thank him for his service, I stay quiet.

“Fuck did I need those times on leave. Space to get my head back on straight. It was worse after the first tours, knowing what I was going back to.” He glances at me as if to check I’m listening. “Met Britney when I was on leave.” I notice his eyes glaze slightly, and there’s a slight upturn to his lips. “She was all I ever wanted in a woman—pretty, good figure, funny, loving. I fell hard. Knew it was fast, but knew I wanted to keep her. So I put a ring on her finger. I only had a couple of weeks with her.”

He shrugs. “I was sent on a mission. I was away for two months. When I returned, at first, Britney was the girl I’d married. She settled into my apartment—I’d planned on getting married quarters organised—but the space seemed to suit us for now. Then,” he shrugs, “then I began to experience the side of her that she hadn’t shown before.”

I wait for him to tell me, but the silence continues so I prompt, “In what way?”

He jerks as though I’ve startled him out of a memory. “She had a temper. A violent one. And the violence wasn’t just restricted to words. When I first left the toilet seat up, she threw a jar at me.” Idly he rubs at a slight scar by his brow. As I’m thinking of something to say and repress theno woman likes a toilet seat left upthat wants to escape, he resumes, “If I was late home, I got her fist. And there were many times she’d hit just because she felt like it. I was a fuckin’ punching bag.” He winces. “I walked on eggshells, trying to do everything to placate her—”

“You never hit back?” My eyes widen.

He spins to face me. “Of course not. She was one hundred and ten dripping wet. I’m a man. Men do not hit women.”

“Why didn’t you leave her?”

Petty moves his head side to side. “I married for better or worse, and while I may not have done enough due diligence before, I thought maybe things would get better and… I loved her. Each time she hurt me, it upset her as much as me, and she’d tell me she loved me, and that it would never happen again. But of course, it did. Until I went back on tour.”

“Did you tell anyone what was happening?”

He gives a mirthless chuckle. “No. Oh, it was noticed that I had become very accident prone, always had a cut or a bruise, or was limping or favouring my arm, but they’d never have believed me. Britney was a charmer and projected the image of a vulnerable woman. No one would have imagined she’d been the cause of my injuries. She didn’t look like she could hurt a fly, and had perfected that look of innocence.” I honestly don’t know what to say. But I don’t need to say anything. He hasn’t finished. “That’s what drew me in, a woman who needed a man to look after her. I thought I could step up and be him.”

He shakes his head again. “I loved her, Rose. I fuckin’ loved her. She wasn’t violent all the time, and in between, she was the sweetest woman you could wish for. After one of her rages, she’d calm right down and be as kind as anyone could be. Until something made her fly off the handle again. Or,” he grimaces, “I looked at her oddly.” Another pause. “I took my vows seriously. Of course, going on tour meant I was out of the way and you know what they say, absence makes the heart fonder. It was easy to forget, or minimise, what she could be like while there was distance between us.”

“Then I got injured again. Took a bullet in my leg and it damaged the muscles. For a while they weren’t sure whether it would come right again. Got sent stateside to get treatment.” He huffs a laugh. “Britney was actually a good nurse in her way. Did what she could to help me. Then…” A sigh almost of disbelief, “She went to the store and got accused of assaulting one of the employees.”

I notice his phrasing. “You say she got accused? You don’t think she was guilty?”

A slight snort now. “Oh, she pleaded her innocence. Told her story, putting a different slant on the evidence on the tapes. But the jury saw it the store employee’s way. He was quite badly injured.” He gives me a quick glance then looks away. “You want to know what I think? I think she was holding back on me as I was laid up and recovering. Even she couldn’t hit a man when he was down. But all that pent-up rage had to go somewhere.” Another sideways movement of his head. “Let’s just say, I wasn’t surprised when the police came to arrest her.”

“And you put it behind you and moved on.”

“No.” He pauses, again seeming to gather his thoughts. “I was embarrassed as fuck. What kind of man was I to be cowed by my own wife? To be pleased when she was removed from my life? Oh, at first I was devastated, missed her every day. But as time passed, absence didn’t make my heart fonder, it made me think straight. I realised I’d been infatuated with her. It couldn’t have been love. How could I love a woman who treated me that way?” It’s a rhetorical question so I don’t answer. “From the start, Britney refused to see me, or have any contact with me. I tried to visit, but I wasn’t on her list of approved visitors. I wondered if she blamed me, but,” again he shrugs, “I took it as a sign that in her eyes, our marriage was over. Anyway, my leg recovered so I had full use of it, and I was sent back to the sandpit again. This time to a new team—that was when I met Roller. Britney was going to be gone for years, and I knew by then I was going to divorce her. So I saw myself as a single man and never admitted the embarrassment of my marriage or my wife to anyone. Even to Roller, who quickly became my best friend.”

I realise he’s ashamed. “What Britney did wasn’t your fault, Petty. You didn’t ask to be treated that way.”

“You don’t think?” he refutes fast. “RoseLyn, Britney saw a weakness and grabbed her chance to exploit it. I didn’t walk out. I stayed.” He gives me an intense look and I know he’s thinking of that particular difference between us. He barks a laugh. “I’ve learned my fuckin’ lesson. I’ll never be weak ever again. I’m a fuckin’ man, and how I live now proves it.”

“Does it?” I raise my eyebrow. “She’s already hit you since she’s returned, and she raped you. She’s got you back under her spell.”

In front of my eyes, Petty changes, a new mask descending over his features. His jaw tightens and his eyes harden. “This time she’s picked on the wrong man. I’m not going to take it lying down. I’m not going to play the victim again. Britney might have come back into my life, but she’s not going to stay. I’m never going to hand over the reins of my life to a woman ever again.”

Despite everything else he’s said, for some unknown reason, that last statement pains me.

This evening I’ve been treated exactly the way I’d want a boyfriend to treat me. Petty fits in with my family like he was meant to be there. I already knew I was attracted to him, but thought that was just because he was a pretty bad boy, and maybe okay for a fling, but not as any permanent fixture. But while I’ve been trying to ignore it, a feeling’s been growing that I wouldn’t object if this situation were for real.

But he’s been damaged, and now I know how badly. I don’t know if it’s even possible for him to ever love again.

Suddenly he turns those now hard cold eyes on me and striking as fast as a snake, his hand comes out and grips me by the throat. Not hard enough to bruise, but firm enough to be a warning. “Never, ever, tell anyone what I’ve told you. I’m not the man I was then.” He holds me until I nod slightly, then he releases me.

Even though the air around me is warm, I shiver. In front of my eyes, Clark has transformed back into Petty. The warning glint in his eyes threatens retribution if I leak any details of our discussion.

I understand his secrets and his reasons for wanting to keep them. I hadn’t needed the threat.

It’s easy to make the promise. “You can trust me. I won’t say a word.”

CHAPTEREIGHTEEN

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