the image went grainy. Paul felt the fangs dig into his flesh as Jet pulled her cheeks apart. From his angle, he could see only her breasts and the dark tangle at her pubis, but he knew exactly what Marshall was seeing. Something moved at the level of the chaise. An article of clothing flew away.
Jet placed a foot on either side of the chaise and lowered herself onto Marshall’s midsection. She went down smoothly, almost without hesitation, then began rising and falling above him, working with a powerful rhythm that Paul had once known like the rhythm of his own heart.
“What’s it look like she’s working on there?” Max asked. “A newspaper story?”
Paul barely registered the words. He was thinking that for Jet to go down so smoothly—without even a hint of foreplay—she must have already been wet. Purely from anticipation. Not just moist . . . but wet. He couldn’t count how many years it had been since the prospect of sex with him had produced that response in her. In fact, the last woman he’d caused to get that way was a young waitress from the Twelve Bar, about three years back.
“You see how it is,” Max said. “Can I talk, or do you need some time?”
It took Paul a few seconds to find his voice. “At least I have something concrete to take action on now. Evidence.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Max said. “This situation’s far more complicated than you realize.”
“How’s that?”
“Because of custody. Who gives a shit about the marriage? Wives come and go. It’s your son that matters. Kevin.”
“What are you saying, Pop? Surely you have enough power to get me a clean divorce and guaranteed custody.”
“There’s a wrinkle in this situation.”
Paul’s bowels were churning down low. He tried not to let his father see how upset he’d become. “I’m listening.”
“You know I like Jet,” Max said. “I’ve protected her from the club’s retaliation for years. When she got Dave Cowart sent to jail, then went after Dr. Lacey’s license, I kept the club from hitting back at her. And they didn’t appreciate that, I can tell you.”
“Dad, for God’s sake—”
“I talked to your mother about this before she passed.”
Paul blanched. “You didn’t.”
“Had to, son. Sally saw a lot, and I wondered if she’d suspected anything. Turns out she did. She’d been worried about Jet leaving for a long time. She’d even talked to her about it, like women do. What she found out, I can hardly bear to tell you. But you have to know. Because who knows what they might be planning now? Look what they did to me. They’re desperate now. They’ve got to be worried I’m going to tell you everything.”
“Are you telling me this has something to do with Mom killing herself?”
Max gave a somber nod. “No doubt about it. Your mother was already depressed about her illness. I didn’t know she was sick, but I knew Sally. She dreaded any affliction like that. But this affair with Marshall . . . she worried it would drive you to suicide. She didn’t know you like I do, Paul. I know you’re going to do what’s necessary, after we talk. This is why I had to tell the cops that bullshit story about Margaret Sullivan. I didn’t dare tell them what really pushed your mother to the edge.”
“Mama thought I’d kill myself over Jet having an affair?”
“No, no, hell no. Listen, son. You’ve got to steel yourself for this. It’s the hardest thing you’ll ever have to face in your life.”
Paul had no idea what could push his father into this kind of mood. “I’m ready. What is it?”
“Kevin isn’t your son. Not biologically.”
A flash of heat crossed Paul’s face.
“Did you hear me?” his father asked.
“That’s bullshit.”
“Not according to your wife.”
“What are you saying?”
“Jet told Sally that she slept with Marshall back in 2005. When his Afghanistan book came out. He stopped in Jackson on his book tour. Marshall’s wife had just had their kid. She wasn’t on tour with him. Jet went to his hotel. Six weeks later she realized she was pregnant. Your mother told me you and Jet had been trying for a long time to have a kid, with no luck. Well, she popped Marshall during that stop in Jackson, and that was it. He planted one in her. That’s Kevin, as much as I hate to admit it.”
Paul got up off the chair, then fought to keep his balance. “I don’t want to hear any more.”
“I