A/N: Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con trigger warning applies to this chapter.
September 24. At the kitchen island, Joey watched as Pacey walked over carrying two dishes, placing one in front of her and the other in front of his seat. As he sat down, she took her first look at the meal he had prepared for their late lunch-slash-early supper. The chicken breast looked delicious, as did the roasted carrots and potatoes, and picking up her fork, she cut into the chicken and took a bite. She was at a loss for words as the taste burst upon her tongue—she was in heaven; the chicken was moist, cooked to perfection, and magnificent.
There was hardly any conversation between the two as they devoured their respective meals, having worked up quite an appetite. Pacey watched the joy written all over her face as she ate, a deep sense of satisfaction and fulfillment rising inside him. Afterwards, they washed the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen, and then got back to work.
Joey had never considered painting a room anything but a chore, yet this afternoon she found herself humming while she worked. Suddenly the squishy swish of the roller on the wall sounded cheerful and lively. The smell didn't bother her, not with the bedroom windows wide open and the afternoon sun spilling into the room. Even the low-grade complaining of long unused muscles didn't do anything to dampen her happy mood. She doubted anything short of a serious disaster could wipe the smile off her face.
She giggled softly and stretched her upper arm. The movement pulled at her hips, which ached from being extended when she parted her legs so Pacey could spread them wide as he held her thighs down. The discomfort only added to her exuberance. Being sore after something boring like exercise wasn't very inspiring, but being sore because of mind-clearing sex with an incredible lover was worth every twinge. Her insides still tingled with lingering aftershocks and she couldn't stop sighing with contentment.
They'd made love twice, then agreed to try and get some work done around the apartment. It had been all of three hours since they left his bed and she couldn't wait to get back into it. Unfortunately, there was a baseball game in her near future.
"You said you'd help get this spare bedroom done, but I don't see you working, Potter," Pacey said as he walked in from the living room. "You're standing on the ladder, grinning."
She laughed. "If I tell you that I'm thinking about us having sex, will that make it okay?"
"Absolutely."
He leaned against the door frame, a tall good looking young man holding spackle and a putty knife. He'd pulled on a dark red T-shirt over worn jeans. She liked how he was confident and competent in whatever he did, whether it was sailing a boat or roasting a chicken or patching a wall or making her scream with pleasure. She liked how he was so very giving and unselfish. The way he asked her what she wanted when they were in bed, and offered to help her out and take care of anything she needed when they weren't.
What she liked the most was that they were equals, that their relationship was an equal give and take. He had needs and wants, she had needs and wants. No one was more in control of the other. They were taking care of each other. Because they loved each other. And it truly was that simple. Their relationship was everything she'd ever dreamed of and more.
Their life was pretty good right now, she had to admit as she smoothed the pale paint over the prepared wall. Their life was damn good.
It could even possibly be called perfect… if Tamara Jacobs hadn't suddenly walked back into it.
While Pacey's mood had generally improved since they'd made love earlier, he was still much quieter than usual. She let him be alone with his thoughts. She knew there had to be a lot he still needed to figure out.
While Joey painted, he watched her for a moment, thinking of their conversation on the couch. "So, um," he began before pausing to clear his throat. "I was, um, thinking of asking Dawson to the baseball game."
She turned in surprise. "Really?"
"Yeah, really," he replied with a shrug. "I think it would be good for the guy to get out of the house, for one thing. And there's still a ticket left."
"Right." She felt slightly torn. While she had no desire to spend time in Dawson's company, she also felt a sense of guilt over him being left out. They were all in Boston, living their lives, moving forward without him, and he was stuck in Capeside.
"Look, if you don't want me to ask him, Jo, I won't. It was just an idea."
She shook her head. It wasn't really fair for Dawson to be excluded from their social circle just because she didn't particularly want to socialize with him. She remembered the unkind way Pacey had been ostracized spring of last year, and the guilt ratcheted up.
"No, it's okay. There's no reason to not invite him. They're your tickets. And I mean, if he comes there will be ten of us, right? It's not like I'll be forced to make stilted conversation with him. It should be easy to maintain a healthy distance."
Pacey nodded. "All right. So, I'll ask him."
A few hours later, they were meeting their friends at Fenway Park. Jen and Jack had arrived with Grams, Andie, and Will. Audrey and Alan showed up together, and then finally Dawson appeared. They all hugged or shook hands. Joey and Dawson awkwardly said their hellos, and then nothing more was said between them.
"Your friend Sabrina didn't want to come?" Jen said to Alan.
"She has a date with this guy she met last week. He's a waiter at the Olive Garden," he sneered.
Joey laughed. "What's wrong with that?"
"Theoretically, nothing. But apparently the guy is twenty-six years old. He's a stoner who plays video games all day and then works at the Olive Garden at night. That is his life, and it isn't any better than the last guy—a high school dropout who worked at the bowling alley and lived in his grandma's basement. I wish Sabrina would stop playing dumb with these guys."
He shook his head and sighed. "You can't save anybody."
"You, uh, like baseball, Alan?" Jack asked.
"I love baseball," he declared, beaming over being directly spoken to. "Not as much as football, of course…" He made eyes at Jack, who rolled his before looking away, fighting a smile. "But baseball is still a sport worth getting excited about."
"Baseball is a bore," Audrey replied, with Andie and Joey nodding in agreement. "A game could last four hours and the score could be one-to-one. Who wants to watch that?"
"Well, you, obviously, since you're here," Alan snarked in response.
"Hey, I'm just here for popcorn and peanuts," she quipped. "Not to mention an up close and personal look at hot guys in tight uniforms."
"Amen, sister."
"Program! Get your program here!" a vendor shouted in his wooden enclosure. He looked like a policeman in the middle of an intersection elevated above the crowd.
"Too bad it's not a Yankees game," Dawson said as they started walking toward the stands.
Pacey turned to him and smiled. "Yeah, too bad."
Tonight's game was against the Baltimore Orioles, but he thought it would've been nice to catch a game against their lifelong rivals, the New York Yankees. It would've been entertaining to watch the team attempt to dispel the curse of the Bambino, the longtime grudge of Babe Ruth leaving Boston for the Yankees.
As Pacey walked hand-in-hand with Joey, his nose quivered at aromas filling the air around him. The grilling hot dogs, the sausages with their accompaniments of onions and peppers mixed with the hot popcorn and peanuts, and an underlying stale beer smell thrown in as well. Already hungry game goers were forming long lines in search of their favorite baseball food.
"You like baseball, Grams?" Pacey asked as they maneuvered through the crowd.
"Of course, I do," she said. "It's America's national pastime. My father used to take me to Fenway all the time when I was a little girl."
"Well, then you stick with me, Grams," Alan said to her, taking her by the arm. "I bet you have lots of amazing stories."
"She does," Jen said with a laugh.
The group of friends were caught in the noisy stream of fans, feeling like fish swimming upstream. With ball caps emblazoned with the signature B, satiny jackets with Boston embroidered on the backs and red pennants with the white letters of Red Sox, there was no mistaking that the fans loved their team. They shouted to one another in greetings or that they had found their seats. Fans were excited about what Ramirez would do tonight against Maduro. And what about Wakefield's pitching? As people found their sections, an eddy in the crowd gave the group of friends a chance to escape. On an entrance ramp, they watched the river of baseball fans flow by.
It was a chilly but sunny evening in Boston. They walked up the stairs and left behind the din and the darkness of food joints and vendors hawking their souvenirs. Stepping out into the open, Pacey held his breath. The field was nothing as he had expected. Fenway was absolutely huge and one of the most unbelievable sites he'd ever seen. His smile grew wider. Dawson elbowed him and nodded his head in agreement.
There were so many things a television screen had not captured in all those years of faithful watching. The green of the grass was in stark contrast to the white foul lines. He scanned the panoramic view from the stands, to the outfield, and around to the diamond. There was the endless height of the Green Monster with the CITGO sign rising behind it. And the players were right there. They wore their vivid white home uniforms with her namesake red socks. He could hear the ball smack the leather of their gloves they warmed up in the outfield. There was chatter back and forth between the players and their answers of the fans who yelled out the question, "Are you going to win tonight?"
The easily found their seats. Pacey sat between Dawson and Jack on the aisle, while the girls sat further down the row together.
"So, handsome, where'd you get such good tickets?" Alan called out to him from his seat between Will and Grams.
Pacey chuckled. "My boss. One of his investors is a hedge fund manager. He likes to take his wealthy clients to Fenway. Apparently, it's good for business."
Alan shook his head. "Who knew there was so much money in managing hedges?" he cracked, and the people sitting behind him laughed. He turned in his seat, and beamed. "Thank you, I'll be here all week!"
Overhearing, Joey laughed. She didn't know the difference between a foul ball and a grand slam, but she knew the boys would appreciate the game. And she had to admit there was something magical about watching a game in person at the stadium, sitting in the stands with her friends, surrounded by thousands of people, the lights, the music, the cheerful roar or agonizing groan of the crowd.
Neither team scored in the first inning, and by the start of the second, she'd lost any real interest in what was happening out on the field. She turned to Andie beside her. "So, um, how was Pacey at breakfast this morning?" she asked quietly.
The blonde hesitated. "Did he tell you about…?"
"About Ms. Jacobs? Yeah, he told me."
Jen's eyes went round as quarters, and she grabbed Joey's arm. "What's this about Ms. Jacobs?" she asked.
"She showed up at the Ambrosia last night."
"Oh, man." Worry lines etched across Jen's face. "What did Pacey do?"
"I guess he talked to her for a few minutes, and that was it, but…" She leaned forward, and scanned down the row. Pacey was drinking soda and laughing with Jack and Dawson at the other end. She sat back in her seat and lowered her voice to a whisper. "He came to my dorm late last night and he was… really upset."
"I'll say," her roommate interjected from where she sat on the other side of Jen. "He cried for like—"
"Audrey," Joey sharply reprimanded.
"Sorry," the blonde said with a repentant frown.
Andie sighed deeply. "Oh, dear."
Joey turned back to her. "Did he say anything to you about it?"
"A little. I don't think he knows how to feel," Andie said. "He's confused about it all. But whatever happened between him and Ms. Jacobs… seeing her is bringing it all up again and… he's really bothered by it, Joey."
"I wish he'd talk to somebody," she replied sadly, her brow creasing with worry.
At the bottom of the fourth inning, the score was tied up, one-to-one. At the top of the sixth inning, a foul ball flew into the stands directly into their row. It made right for Alan, who screeched and dove out of the way, landing on the floor, much to the chagrin of their fellow spectators who started booing him. The ball then bounced into another section of the stands.
"Listen, you hos," Alan shouted as he stood up, hands on his hips, addressing those seated around them. "A psychic told me I'd die with balls flying at my face, and that is not the kind of balls I'm planning on!"
Pacey cracked up laughing.
"Who is this guy?" Dawson asked, amused.
"Joey's friend. He goes to Worthington. Frankly, I don't know where he's been all my life."
"He's annoying as hell," Jack grumbled.
Pacey shot him a look, and then grinned at Dawson. "Me thinks somebody doth protest too much over here."
"I'm very happy with Tobey."
Pacey scoffed. "You're miserable with Tobey."
"No, I'm miserable with the distance."
"Same difference."
Jack frowned and said nothing more.
By the end of the seventh inning, the Orioles were up four-to-one, and the group called it a night. Most of them had early classes the next day. Dawson offered to give Alan, Audrey, and Joey a ride back to campus. Pacey came along, and after he kissed his girlfriend goodnight, Dawson drove him to Southie.
They were soon sitting on the curb in front of his apartment building. "Thanks for the ride. Beats taking the bus."
"Well, thanks for inviting me," Dawson said. "It was nice to get out and do something fun."
"No problem, man," he replied with a smile. "How're your parents doing?"
"Oh, they're… all right, you know. It's… hard on my dad because he can't do anything. And that's frustrating for him, but some days are better than others. But my mom is just so exhausted."
"I wanna get back out there to see them soon."
"They'd like that."
Then Pacey cleared his throat. "Look, um… there's something I wanna ask you about…"
Dawson closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I knew you'd wanna talk about it sooner or later. About graduation, and me kissing Joey, and acting like a world class jerk—"
Pacey's brows furrowed. "No, that's… that's not what I wanted to talk about. Although… you kissing Joey, man…" He pursed his lips and shook his head. "Not cool."
"I know, I know."
Then Pacey smirked. "So, uh, how hard did she hit ya?"
"Pretty damn hard. My face was red for hours."
He chuckled. "She's got a good arm. I know firsthand."
"So, then what did you want to talk to me about, Pace?"
"Um…" He sucked on his bottom lip. "Joey told me you saw Tamara Jacobs over the summer."
Dawson looked at him with a curious expression. "Yeah… at the Barnstable County Fair. She was there with some guy… she said he was her fiancé. I didn't meet him. She pointed him out. And then she asked about you."
"What did she say? Like, exactly."
"Um… she asked if you were in Capeside. When I said you weren't, she asked if you'd be back anytime soon. I told her you were away for the summer, but even then, you wouldn't be back. You were moving to Boston."
He was quiet a moment, thinking it over. "Did it seem like… she wanted to see me?"
"Yeah. I'd say she really wanted to see you."
Pacey unbuckled his seatbelt and sighed.
"You're not…" Dawson suddenly looked worried. "You're not thinking of looking her up, are you? You need to stay away from her, Pacey."
He chuckled darkly. "Too late. She came to the restaurant."
"Oh, geez. When was this?"
"Last night. She, uh, apparently wants the open manager job."
"Pacey, you can't work with her."
"I know."
"So, what are you gonna do?"
"I have no idea, Dawson," he said with a deep sigh.
"Does Joey know Tamara wants to work there?"
"Uh… no, I forgot to mention it." Then he opened the door and stepped out of the SUV. "Thanks again for the ride."
He shut his door, but then the window rolled down, and he turned to look at Dawson sitting behind the wheel.
"You're a good guy, Pacey."
He stared, a little taken aback. That wasn't something he'd expected to hear.
"And you've got a good thing with Joey."
He blinked. "I know."
"Don't screw it up like I did."
His brows furrowed as he watched Dawson drive away.
When Pacey arrived at work on Tuesday afternoon, he was immediately razzed for getting sick on Sunday night.
"You're not gonna start blowing chunks back here, are you, Witter?" Sean taunted, and everyone laughed.
"If I do, Sullivan, I'll make sure you're a direct hit," Pacey shot back.
While standing at the bulletin board checking his assignments on Chef Tucci's prep sheet, James walked over to him. "You feeling all right today?"
He found he couldn't look him in the eye. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for the Red Sox tickets. We had a good time."
"No problem," James said, patting him on the back. "Glad you enjoyed yourself."
Pacey also met the new dishwashers, Adam Navarro, a skinny kid of fifteen who was a sophomore at East Boston High School, and his older brother, Hector, a freshman at Roxbury Community College. Sheldon had quit on Sunday after an argument with Gary, the other dishwasher, who then also quit when Dominic yelled at him for making Sheldon quit. James had complained for the rest of the night how they were constantly having to search for dishwashers.
"I've had twenty-eight employees to fill those positions in the last two years," James had ranted. "The turnover is insane. Open every single restaurant trade magazine and every issue has a new take on the 'labor crisis.' Maybe if the fucking government started opening the borders and changing immigration policy, we'd get some more decent workers in this country."
Other than the lighthearted banter and juvenile humor that had his coworkers gleefully making barf jokes at Pacey's expense throughout the afternoon, the rest of Tuesday's shift went by without incident. He didn't ask James or Dominic about the open manager position or any of its applicants, nor was the information voluntarily offered.
September 26. At half-past five on Wednesday, Sara the hostess walked into the Ambrosia's kitchen to speak to Pacey.
"Your siblings are here," she told him.
He finished ladling soup into a bowl, and then looked up at her. "Siblings? Plural?"
"Yeah. There's three of them."
He furrowed his brow. He couldn't for the life of him picture Carrie actually leaving their parents' house, and as far as he knew, Amy was in North Carolina.
Mr. Moore then walked in through the double doors. "Sara, why aren't you at the hostess stand?"
"Sorry, sir. I just popped back here to tell Pacey that his brother and sisters are here."
"Well, well," Sean spoke up. "You've got more than one sister, Witter? Are they all hot?"
"Put a cork in it, Sean," James retorted before turning to Pacey, who had hesitated to move at this news. "You can go on out there and see them. Don't worry. It's not that busy right now."
Smiling, he removed his apron, and left the kitchen. As he walked across the restaurant toward the front dining room, his eyes popped at the sight of Amy standing just inside the door with Doug and Gretchen. He hurried towards them. She smiled wide as he approached, and with a growling laugh, he pulled her into a tight embrace.
"What are you doing in Boston?" he asked her, stepping out of the hug.
"We're up visiting for about a week, well… on the Cape. Steve's mom has her birthday on Sunday. So, we came up with the kids to celebrate Grandma Jackie's sixtieth. And now I'm neck-deep in party-planning." A warm smile spread across her face. "It's so good to see you, Pacey. You just… you look so good. You're just the handsomest younger brother in the world."
Doug gave her an affronted look. "Hey!"
Amy's green eyes rolled, and she nudged him with her elbow. "Hush, you."
Pacey chuckled. "Thanks. You look great, as always." He turned to his other siblings and dispensed more hugs. "So, what are you guys doing today? Just hanging out?"
"Amy wanted to come to the city to see us," Gretchen replied. "And she drove up here with Doug. We knew you were working, so we thought we'd just drop by for a minute. We're probably gonna go out for supper before they head back to Capeside."
Suddenly James appeared. "I hope you don't mind me interrupting, but you're standing in a restaurant with available tables."
Doug laughed. "I see that. I also saw the menu, and there's no way we could spend that kind of money on one meal."
"Nonsense," James said, waving it off. "Your dinner's on the house."
Pacey's eyes went round. "Seriously?"
"That's very generous of you," Amy remarked.
"Hey, you're family. Pacey is part of our family here at the Ambrosia, and you're his family. And family eats free." Then James paused. "Well, within reason. If you start showing up every night, we might have an issue," he grinned.
Feeling pleased at Mr. Moore's generosity and hospitality, Pacey returned to the kitchen while Sara sat his brother and sisters at a table in the back dining room. Just over an hour later, Charlie was plating their desserts.
"Why don't you join them," James suggested.
"Really?" Pacey replied with surprise.
"Your prep work's done, isn't it?" he said while turning to Chef Tucci, who looked a bit put out, but the man nodded.
"But… there's still customers coming in. Dishes that will have to be prepared. My work isn't done. What if someone orders the truffle ravioli?"
"The kitchen can spare you for a few minutes, Pacey, I'm sure. Isn't that right, Chef?"
Dominic sighed, but didn't object.
"Go spend some time with your family," James concluded. "I'll join you myself in a bit. I'd like to get to know them."
Less than two minutes later, Pacey had his apron off and his hands washed, and he was walking into the dining room. A waitress, Marcie, followed, carrying his siblings' desserts, and she started placing them on the table as he took a seat in an empty chair.
"Nice of you to grace us with your presence," Amy said with a teasing smile, before pulling her long dirty blond hair back behind her shoulder.
"Just taking a little break."
The four Witter children spoke for a few minutes, shared some laughs, all the while Pacey sampled their desserts. "Charlotte Brock is a fantastic pastry chef," Gretchen remarked, and Pacey caught her eye. Their gaze met and held.
"Yes, she is," he stated, his eyes narrowing.
Gretchen swallowed and then averted her gaze.
James then showed up at the table, grabbing a nearby chair and joining them. He introduced himself and shook their hands. Pleasantries were exchanged.
"So, tell me how my beloved little brother is doing back there in your kitchen," Amy said to him, and Pacey felt his cheeks flush with warmth.
"He's doing incredible work. He really is." James beamed a proud smile. "He's a great addition to the staff here. He's well-liked, and he's a hard worker. He has amazing potential."
"That's wonderful, Pacey," Doug said to him, and he felt his chest swell with satisfaction at the compliments and the look of approval from his older brother.
"Now, you're all from the Cape? Grew up on the Cape?"
Amy nodded. "Capeside, born and raised, all five of us."
"Oh, so there's a fifth Witter sibling?"
Pacey exchanged looks with his brother and sisters, and then he cleared his throat. "Our sister, Carrie. She's the eldest. She lives with our parents, her and her three girls."
"I see." James turned to his siblings. "You know, Pacey hasn't told me much about what life is like growing up out there on the Cape."
"Probably because it's boring as hell," Amy said, and Pacey laughed.
"One of his old Capeside High English teachers came into the restaurant on Sunday night."
Instantly, Pacey's stomach clenched and his heart started pounding. But he willed himself to keep his face passive and his mouth shut.
"Oh, really?" Gretchen's brows arched. "God, I hope it wasn't Mr. Peterson. That guy was a miserable ass."
"Seriously," Amy agreed.
"No, it was a woman named Tamara Jacobs."
Doug's eyes hardened as he stared at Pacey. "Jesus, that's even worse."
"Really?" James said with surprise. "She seemed very pleased to see your brother."
"You're kidding?" he scoffed. "I find that hard to believe. He's the reason she quit her teaching job at Capeside High. The reason she left town."
Gretchen threw their older brother a look of disapproval. "That's not fair, Doug."
"Not fair? What's not fair is Pacey spreading a ridiculous rumor about some illicit affair all over the school that almost cost Tamara her job, and could've created even more serious consequences for her—wholeheartedly undeserved, mind you. Good thing he confessed to the school board that it was all a lie, but it certainly cost her her reputation. The rumor virtually ran her out of town. Tamara was a wonderful woman, and our idiot little brother really messed things up for her."
"Pacey's not an idiot, Dougie," Amy reprimanded.
"No, of course not. I don't mean…" He sighed. "Not now, of course. He's turned into an impressive young man, and we're all proud of him. But Pacey at fifteen? An idiot, and unfortunately, a liar."
Face burning, stomach churning, hands tightening into fists in his lap, Pacey stared down at the table. He could feel James' eyes on him, burning into his skin, but he refused to look at his boss, or any of them.
"But if I know my little brother, I know he feels terrible about what he did. And he did end up doing the right thing and confessing the truth to help Tamara keep her job," Doug allowed. "It's just unfortunate so many people took his silly lies so seriously. The school board actually considered pressing charges, the poor woman! But it is what it is. It's in the past, and if Mr. Moore here says Tamara was happy to see Pacey, then I'm sure she was. I'm sure she's put it behind her and all is forgiven."
Gretchen and Amy were staring daggers at Doug. James seemed to be stunned speechless. Pacey finally looked up at his brother. Their eyes met, and he was at a total loss for words, his cheeks heating, a choke in his throat as his emotions roiled.
"Thank you, Douglas, for turning our nice family meal into… whatever the hell this is," Amy spat.
He sighed. "I'm sorry," he said. "Maybe this wasn't the right time for a little walk down memory lane."
"I'm, uh…" Pacey started to stand up and look about the dining room. "I really should get back to work. The tables are starting to fill up. They're gonna need me in the kitchen."
James stood up as well, but he still couldn't meet his boss's gaze. "Well, it was nice to meet you," the man said to Doug and Amy, shaking their hands, before turning to Gretchen. "And lovely to see you again."
"I hope you all enjoyed your meal."
Pacey watched them thank Mr. Moore, and then he said goodbye and left the table.
Gretchen and Amy stood, and he gave his sisters each a hug. "It was good seeing you," he said to the older of the two girls. "I miss you."
"I'm gonna be in Capeside for, like, a week," Amy told him. "Our flight back to Wilmington is not until Tuesday afternoon. Come out and see me. The boys would love to see their Uncle Pacey. Please?"
"Okay. I'll try to get out there."
Amy gave him another hug. Pacey turned to look at his brother, whose jaw was tight, but he already looked to be regretting his little walk down memory lane. "Look, Pace," he sighed. "I'm sorry about saying all that in front of your boss. I didn't mean…" He heaved another sigh. "I am sorry."
Pacey could only give a helpless shake of his head. He was positive Amy would give him an earful all the way back to Capeside. "See ya, Dougie."
"Bye, Pacey."
Back in the kitchen, his face was still burning, but he was thankful his boss had shut himself away inside the manager's office. He dove into his work, trying to push what happened at the table from his mind. It was going on nine o'clock when Mr. Moore reappeared in the kitchen to bid the staff goodnight.
He tensed when his boss approached him. "Look, James… I'm really sorry. About that stuff that my brother said… about Tamara Jacobs… um… I want to explain, but I don't know if I can…"
Shaking his head, James placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, Pacey. I think I understand perfectly."
"Oh, okay." He frowned as the man squeezed his shoulder and then turned to walk away. "Mr. Moore," he said, calling his attention back. He swallowed, his stomach in knots. "I'm… I'm not a liar."
Although James smiled, his eyes were sad. "I know, Pacey."
At eleven-thirty, he was once again knocking on the door to Joey's dorm room. This time, Audrey answered it, and he saw Joey was sitting up in her bed reading a book. "Can I, uh, stay here with you guys tonight?"
The girls exchanged a look, and then Audrey let him in the room. After he stepped in the shower and rinsed the sweat and kitchen smell from his body, he collapsed on the bed next to his girlfriend, who was still reading. He didn't look at her—he knew she wouldn't be able to bear the heavy sadness in his eyes. He stretched out on the bed beside her, and his arm came around her as he put his head in her lap.
She ran her fingers through his hair. "You okay, sweetheart?" she murmured.
"I don't know," he mumbled into the comforter.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not especially."
"Okay."
She continued reading, but her fingers never left his head. The warmth of the room, the quality of the mattress, and Joey's gentle caresses started lulling him to sleep. There was only one woman in the world for him, and it was her. Eventually, she set her book aside, shut out the light, and lay down. Beneath the covers, Pacey curled up behind her, holding her tight against him, his hand sliding under her tank top to hold her soft breast. He whispered I love yous, buried his face in the comfort of her sweet-smelling hair, and then soon he was fast asleep.
When Pacey arrived to work on Friday, he was not surprised to see Armando had returned, but he was surprised to find Amanda Moore had accompanied her husband to the restaurant. As far as he knew, this was his first time seeing her in the place. She and James spent the majority of the afternoon in the manager's office. During the four o'clock team meeting, James announced that Amanda would be temporarily filling the restaurant manager position until they found someone qualified.
"Back when we first opened many moons ago, she was my right-hand man, so to speak, and she managed the place for years until we started expanding," he told the staff. "I had been looking at another candidate, a woman named Alex Pearl, but she ended up taking the management position at Civilization, Danny Brecher's place over on Arlington. I'm sure some of you have eaten there before. It's a fantastic restaurant. And I'm sure most of you had heard that Joe O'Donnell's fiancée was interested, but she gave us a call to let us know the interest was no longer there. Anyway, the search continues, but until then, Amanda is more than qualified to do the job."
Pacey's heart thundered in his chest.
Tamara wasn't going to be hired.
The relief he felt was tangible, and he ran a hand through his hair to cover any display of emotion.
September 29. On Saturday afternoon, Pacey was called into the manager's office. Amanda was there, sitting behind the desk, and she invited him to sit down.
"James tells me you want to change your schedule?"
"Oh. Um, I just want to work for what I was hired for… five nights a week. Six is kinda difficult right now."
"That's fine. No problem." Then she stood up from her desk. "There's a bunch of boxes I gotta unload. Would you mind helping me?"
"No, not at all."
After loading the dolly, he brought the boxes to the supply room. Together, they opened the boxes and started taking inventory before arranging the items in their proper place on the shelving.
They heard a burst of laughter from the kitchen. "What are they doing in there?" she said with a smile, her brows knitting curiously as she turned to glance at the supply room door.
"They're playing Never Have I Ever."
"Oh," she scoffed.
"Have you ever played that game?"
"Never Have I Ever?" She shook her head. "Uh… games like that usually get uncomfortable for me."
He lifted a tub of cooking lard to the shelf, and heaved a sigh. "Yeah, I know what you mean." Then he chuckled. "Poor Adam, though. Hector's got the goods on him," he said, referring to the two new dishwashers. "There was something about the kid's first kiss that was apparently mortifying."
Amanda watched him a moment, chewing on her lip, and looked as if she was debating something. "You know, I, uh… I had my first kiss when I was twelve."
"Yeah?" Pacey smiled. "Let me guess: on the school playground? Was it a kid in your… fifth or… sixth grade class?"
"I wish." She paused. "My best friend's divorced dad, Greg."
Her words sunk in, and blinking in horrified realization, he turned to stare at Amanda.
"Yeah. I spent time at their house a lot, hanging out with my best friend, Jenny." She took a deep breath. "I guess you could say her dad was my first boyfriend. My first… everything." A frown tugged at her mouth.
"When we were first… together… I thought I was over the moon about him. He showered me with attention. He hugged me and kissed me and bought me gifts. My parents ignored me most of the time. I had convinced myself that I was madly in love with Greg, that he was the only one in the world who understood me. That this was what true love must be. It went on for four years. No one ever knew. I never told anyone. But I turned sixteen, and suddenly Greg just wasn't interested anymore. He stopped taking me out, stopping letting me come to his house, stopped communicating. And I was so sick. I was devastated.
"I ran into him at the mall the summer after my senior year of high school, and the way he looked at me… as if we hadn't spent four years totally in love, as if I was nothing to him… it crushed me. I confronted him for what he did to me, and he got so angry. He blamed it all on me. Said I had flirted with him. That I wanted it. That I made him do it. That I had… tricked him somehow. As if a twelve-year-old girl is a master of seduction.
"It was then that I realized what exactly had happened to me, what he'd done. And I was a mess for a long time after that. I hid it well. I just felt… so ashamed and guilty. And I doubted everything, even my own memories. You know, maybe it really was my fault. Maybe I did ask for it. And I carried around that guilt and shame and confusion for a long time. I never even told James about Greg until after we were married. It was James who convinced me to get help, to talk to someone about it, someone who'd understand what happened to me, who could help me understand.
"I had once believed that Greg was the only person in my life who actually cared about me, who loved me. But those four years we were together, he put me through the wringer. And only after I was out of it, could I look back and see just how unhappy I was when I was in it. I could see he didn't love me at all. I could see that he preyed on my loneliness to gratify his own desires. I could see that he used me."
Pacey stared down at the floor, his face hot, his stomach in knots. "I'm so… so sorry, Amanda."
She patted him on the back. "I'm okay. Some days I'm not, but thankfully those are few and far between. I have a wonderful family, and I'm surrounded by people who truly love me and they take good care of me. And in turn, I can take good care of them, and I can help so many kids through our foundation. I mean, kids and teenagers… they just need people to rely on. Responsible, dependable adults they can trust, who will care for them without any agenda."
It was now dawning on him why exactly she'd told him this story. "James asked you to talk to me, didn't he?"
She smiled knowingly. "He cares about you a lot, Pacey."
"Did…" He sighed. "Did Tamara Jacobs really call the restaurant and say she didn't want the job anymore?"
Amanda hesitated a moment. "I… I believe it was James who called Joe O'Donnell and said she wouldn't be a good fit."
Pacey did not sleep for a long time that night. He lay awake, Joey curled up naked at his side, thinking unhappily over events of the past, turning over the details, big and small, everything he could remember. Memories of Tamara, from the very first time he saw her to the last, swam in front of his eyes. For a long time, he lay awake, staring up at the ceiling, his heart pounding as the stars twinkled above him. It was close to five o'clock when sleep finally overtook him.
October 1. Early on Monday morning, Pacey borrowed Gretchen's car, and drove down to Capeside. He met his sister Amy, Steve, and the kids for breakfast at Connie's Diner. It was going on eleven when he arrived at the Leery's house. He spent about an hour with Mitch and Gail, helping out around the house. Just before noon, he arrived at Capeside Middle School.
Leaning against the Land Rover's hood, he listened as the bell rang. Less than five minutes later, a smile spread across his face as a preteen kid with spiky blond hair rushed towards him. Buzz Thompson jumped and barreled into his arms. He hung on tight, as if he was afraid Pacey would disappear into thin air if he didn't hold on hard enough.
His heart swelled with emotion as he set the kid down. "Okay, now let me get a good look at ya."
"I've grown a whole inch since you left."
Pacey chuckled. "I can see that." He glanced up at the brick building and the river of students heading for the school buses. "You know what I don't get? Having a half-day on a Monday, for one. Like, why not just give you the day off and let you stay home? Give you a three-day weekend?"
Buzz shrugged. "I don't know."
"So, what's it like being in the sixth grade? Big man on campus, huh?"
"Please. I'm on the bottom of the totem pole here."
"But before you know it, you'll be in the ninth grade, giving all the sixth graders hell."
"Yeah, and then I'll be at the high school, in tenth grade, getting shit on by seniors."
Pacey's eyes went round. "Don't say 'shit.' Where'd you learn that word? Kids in school?"
"I've learned all sorts of words."
"Oh, Jesus. I'm gone one summer, and your life is spiraling. What are you gonna do next? Rob a liquor store?"
Buzz pulled a face. "You were gone two summers. And like you don't say 'shit,' Pissy."
"Not around kids, I don't. Have you ever heard me say that word? No."
"Are we gonna do something fun, or are you just gonna lecture me? 'Cause I can go home and hang out with my mom for that."
Pacey shook his head. "If this is what you're like at eleven, I don't really know if I want to witness the teenage years."
"You're a teenager."
"Oh, right," he grinned. "Come on, you little brat." Pacey threw his arm around Buzz's shoulder, giving him a noogie as he walked the kid to the passenger side door. "I'm giving up precious alone time with Joey to hang out with you, so show me a little respect and gratitude."
"Watch the hair!" Buzz exclaimed between giggles.
After pulling out of the school parking lot, they drove to the mall. While getting their lunch in the food court, Buzz offered to carry the tray to one of the tables. Then before Pacey even had time to react, the kid tripped and fell, and the tray of food went flying, spilling all over the floor.
"Jesus Christ." Pacey walked over and helped Buzz off the floor as a custodian came over with a mop to clean up the mess.
"I'm sorry. You're not going to hit me, are you?"
Pacey looked him in the eye. How could he even think that? "I'd never hit you, Buzz, no matter how mad I got. And I'm not mad. You just tripped. It's no big deal. I can get more food." He almost didn't want to know the answer, but he had to ask because he hated the thought of anyone hurting this boy. "Did somebody hit you at home? Or school?"
"I deserved it for making a mess."
He took a deep breath, and tried to react calmly so as not to upset him. "No one deserves to be hit, for any reason. Did you tell anyone else about what happened?"
Buzz shook his head. "Just my mom. Forget what I said. It was one time. The guy left my mom, anyway."
Pacey dropped the subject, but there was no way he would ever forget it. After returning to the fast food counter, they got another tray and ate their lunch. The two then went to the arcade and played games until almost two-thirty.
Once he'd dropped Buzz off at home, Pacey drove through town on Main Street, heading in the direction of the highway. His stomach began to tighten as he got closer and closer to the high school. The Capeside High sign came into view, and he slowed as the traffic became congested near the school's driveway. As he approached, he debated back and forth, and then on an impulse, he pulled into the drive and made his way to the student lot.
Only after parking, did he realize he should have parked in the visitor lot instead. With a shrug, he locked the car, and then walked inside the school. Kids lingered in the hallways at their lockers, while others were hurrying for the exits. His stomach twisting into knots, he made his way to the school psychologist's office. Part of him hoped Mr. Kapinos was still here. Part of him hoped the man had left for the day.
Pacey tentatively knocked on the door.
His insides rioted as the door opened. There Tom Kapinos stood, eyes going wide with shock at the sight of him.
"Pacey Witter?" the man exclaimed with a smile.
"Hi, Mr. Kapinos." He held out his hand to shake.
With a laugh, the counselor gently pushed his hand away and pulled him into a hug. Suddenly, Pacey was choking back an incredible lump forming in his throat. His eyes pricked with tears as he fought hard for composure. He only clung to Mr. Kapinos tighter.
The counselor stilled, obviously realizing something was wrong. "Pacey? What is it?" he asked, pulling free from the embrace and studying his face.
His throat had closed up, and he couldn't speak.
"Come," Tom said, taking him by the shoulder and prodding him towards the open doorway into his office. "Come on in."
The door shut behind him, and Pacey took his usual spot on the couch against the wall. He cleared his throat. "I like what you've done with the place," he quipped.
Mr. Kapinos smirked. "Which is to say, nothing. I've done nothing."
Silence then filled the air between them. Pacey could only shake his head. He didn't know what he even wanted to say.
"So, what brings you back to your old stomping grounds? Is this merely a social visit, or is there something you needed to talk to me about?"
Pacey sighed. Why beat around the bush? "Do you know who Tamara Jacobs is?"
Tom's brows furrowed. "The name is vaguely familiar."
"You weren't here my sophomore year."
"No." Then a look of realization came over the counselor's face. "Ah. Okay. Yes. Miss Jacobs. I remember reading something about that in your student file."
"Did my student file say I made up some horrible rumor and then I went to the school board to clear the air and confess to lying about her?"
Mr. Kapinos sighed and folded his hands in his lap. "Something to that effect, if I recall. Yes."
"What if I told you that I didn't make it up? That I wasn't lying? That the only lie I told was to the school board?"
"So, you threw yourself under the bus to protect her, is that what you're saying?"
"Yeah."
Tom closed his eyes and rubbed his hand over his mouth. "Why is this coming up now? Has something happened?"
Pacey swallowed against the tightness in his throat. "I hadn't seen her in almost three years. And she just… shows up. And… I don't know. I feel like I'm unraveling, and I don't know why."
"You had a relationship with this woman, your teacher?"
"Yes."
"And it was sexual?"
"Yes. And it was consensual. It only happened because I—"
Tom held his hand up. "How old was Miss Jacobs?"
"Thirty-five."
"And you were in tenth grade? So, you were fifteen or sixteen at the time?"
"Fifteen."
"I wouldn't call that consensual."
"I was willing. I wanted it."
"You were a child who lacked the emotional capacity to know what you were getting yourself into. Not to mention, it was illegal."
"But it happened because of me. I initiated the whole thing. I started it. She would never have done it if I hadn't talked her into it."
Mr. Kapinos gave him a skeptical look. "Pacey, do you hear yourself? You're saying you seduced her. Do you really believe a grown woman is helpless against the awkward charms of a fifteen-year-old boy?"
His face went red. "I mean, I know it sounds ridiculous…"
"Pacey, have you ever heard the term, 'grooming?'"
"What, like brushing your hair and shaving?"
"No," the counselor said with a breathy laugh. "I mean child grooming."
Pacey shook his head and shrugged. Whatever it was, it didn't sound good.
"Do you remember exactly what happened with Miss Jacobs? From the very first moment you met her, until the moment the relationship became sexual, and all the details in between?"
His mouth went dry, and he licked his lips, swallowing. "Yeah," he breathed.
Getting up from the chair, Tom walked over to his desk and picked up a notebook and pen before returning to his seat. "Okay, so the very first moment you met her… what happened?"
"She, uh, she came into the video store where I worked. She was… wearing this pale yellow sundress with flowers on it. And the way the light hit it…" He blushed. "Well, you could see right through it." Pacey sighed heavily. "And, uh, she walked up to the counter and she flirted with me. Silly banter about renting movies, you know, but the way she looked at me… there was attraction there. She was openly flirting. And she told me her name was Tamara, and then she asked to rent The Graduate."
The counselor gave him a look. "Subtle."
He expelled a breathless laugh. "Yeah."
"And the next time you saw her…?"
"The first day of school, when she walked into the classroom. I was shocked the woman from the video store was my teacher. I called her Tamara, and she said I'd have to call her that outside school hours."
Tom's eyes went wide with a look that said, Bingo! "Do you realize what she did there?"
"Uh, no."
"Pacey, before or after Miss Jacobs, how often did you see teachers outside school hours?"
"Not that often. One time I saw Mr. Milo at the mall with his grandkids. It was weird."
"It's supposed to be weird. Because there are boundaries firmly in place, from the moment you enter your first day of kindergarten until you graduate high school. Do you see what she did by telling you to call her Tamara outside school? She was normalizing the idea of you seeing her outside school. Of there being a personal relationship between you outside school, which is not normal. At all. She was normalizing inappropriate behavior so that it would be acceptable to you. And that, Pacey, is grooming.
"You didn't start this. She did."
Pacey stared, his heart pounding. With those six words, everything he thought he knew about Tamara, everything he thought he knew about himself, everything he thought he understood, everything he thought he saw and heard, had suddenly been blown to shit.
"I can also guarantee that you didn't initiate the sexual aspect of the relationship either. I can show you, step by step, how boundaries are crossed, and a subtle and dangerous game of grooming starts. If you want? The choice is yours. I understand this is a very difficult subject, and you don't have to talk if you're not ready to."
Pacey thought of himself, the goofy fifteen-year-old kid he was before Tamara walked into his life. Adam Navarro, the new dishwasher at the Ambrosia, was fifteen. He looked so fucking young. Pacey thought of Buzz, of this kid from a broken home, with a mother who worked fifty hours a week just to put food on the table, and an absent father who didn't give a damn about him, who was now susceptible to being mistreated or even abused by other adults in his life. And the thought of anyone hurting Buzz, or any other kids…
His throat was tight. Tears stung his eyes. He'd promised Tamara to never tell a soul. But he knew Joey was right. It wasn't a promise worth keeping.
"I've gone almost three years not talking about it. I think it's time I finally did."
Mr. Kapinos clicked his pen, and Pacey began to talk.