Page 16 of Theirs to Desire (Club M: Boxed Set)

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I haven’t been back in years.

If I were flying commercial, it would have taken me all day to get here.

Luckily, the private plane is much faster.

We touch down at a small airfield an hour away, and the rental car that Nita arranged for me is waiting.

I take the keys from the gentleman that drove it down from Memphis.

“You’re Judge Payne’s son, aren’t you?” he asks me.

“I remember you.” He sticks out his hand. “Jeff Gardner.”

Great. A local. I shake his hand and do my best to be social, though I’m not in the mood. “Are you a football fan?” There are only two reasons for anyone here to remember me. My father, and the fact that I led the football team to an undefeated season in my senior year of high school.

“My son Beau played the same time as you.”

I search my memory. “Beau Gardner?” The big, hulking teenager had been a linebacker. Nice guy. Quiet. Kept to himself. “I remember him. He turned pro, didn’t he?”

This time, his smile is wide and genuine. “That’s my boy,” he says. “He got recruited by Michigan. Played for two seasons for the Chicago Bears before they cut him.”

Good for Beau. I’d quickly realized when I got to college that I wasn’t good enough to play at the pro-level. Instead, I got an education. It was a far wiser investment. “What’s he doing now?”

“Works in a bank.” His smile fades. “Doesn’t come back very often.”

I’m not surprised. I ran too, picking a college that was far away from home. On the surface, it seemed like a good place to grow up, but underneath, the town was ugly.

And there’s none uglier than Eugene Payne.

Still, growing up here was good training for the back-stabbing political games in DC. Thankfully, I don’t have to play them much. Lockhart how can I? I’m here to buy Callie Weiss’ silence with my money. Bile rises in my stomach, and the throbbing in my temples intensifies.

“Yeah.” Jeff Gardner doesn’t shake hands with me again. “I guess you should.”

Traffic is light. It’s a little after one when I pull in front of Callie Weiss’ small ranch-style house. The place looks like it’s seen better days. The vinyl siding is faded and worn, and the roof shingles need replacing.

A struggling single mother. A father in and out of jail. And of course, a young, pretty daughter. My father is pretty fucking consistent when picking his targets.

The door opens before I can knock, and a young boy stares at me. He can’t be older than seven. He’s holding a pop-tart in his hand, and he’s got jam streaked across his face. “Who are you?”

“Grady Scott Weiss, get back here.” A harried-looking blonde woman bustles up, and when she sees me, her body tenses. “Brody Payne, I assume.” Her lips tighten. “You look like your father.”

Yet another reason to stay away from the entire state of Mississippi. “May I come in?”

She nods curtly and puts her hand on her son’s head. “Grady, you run along and keep an eye on the twins.”

“Why don’t you ask Willa Mae to do it?” the kid demands.

“I don’t want to hear any backtalk from you, young man. Leave your sister alone and watch the twins. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The boy shoots me a curious look and wanders away.

Callie Weiss leads me to the kitchen and waves to the table. “You want a cup of coffee or something?”

She looks exhausted. God, I am such an asshole. Why am I enabling my father’s bad behavior? “I’m good.” I sit down, my fingers playing with the crayons scattered over the faded, stained surface.

She nods and pulls up a chair across from me. “Willa Mae was so excited about being chosen for the internship,” she says. “She’s bright, you know. I wanted her to do better with her life than this.” Her lips twist. “I thought she could even go to college.”

I’ve learned the salient details. Willa Mae Weiss’ high school set up an internship program with the 4th Circuit Court. Willa Mae was assigned to Judge Payne’s office. And of course, my father couldn’t keep his hands away from the young girl.

“Now she just stays in her room,” Callie continues. “She doesn’t want to go out with her friends. She doesn’t want to go to school. She locks herself in there all day, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.”

“You want to get her help.”

“We don’t want to make any trouble,” she says wearily. “Already, Mrs. Payne talked to Mrs. Chaney at the motel. If I lose this job…” She bites her lower lip and drops her gaze.

Fiona had bitten her lip the same way yesterday. I’d wanted to kiss that swollen lower lip and suck it into my mouth. But that lunch seems so far away now. Back home in Mississippi, I might as well be on a different planet.

“I can write you a check,” I say quietly. “If that’s what you want.”

She laughs bitterly. “You think that any of this is about what I want? Your father exposed himself to my little girl and forced her to suck his cock. You think I wanted that? She used to be a straight-A student, and now she won’t go to school.

The other girls are calling her a whore.

You think that was on my Christmas list? ”

Fuck.

Callie Weiss is right. This isn’t about what she wants.

This is about survival, plain and simple.

She’s got four kids, and she needs to put food on the table.

My father knows it, which is why he picked Willa Mae as his target, and my mother knows it too, which is why I’m here.

A hundred grand? I could offer fifty, even twenty-five and she’ll take it because she has no other fucking choice.

I can’t meet her eyes. I pull my check book out of my briefcase and start writing.

One hundred thousand dollars. She watches me, her eyes round, her mouth falling open.

When I push it across the table, her fingers toy with the edges of the check, as if she can’t quite believe it’s real.

“What do I need to sign?” she asks. “My pa said I’d have to sign a non-disclosure form. ”

I don’t answer her right away. “Did you ever think about filing charges?”

“I’m a mother, Mr. Payne,” she says tightly. “Of course I thought about filing charges. But the police chief, Tommy Green, he plays golf every Sunday with your papa. Your mama and Mary Lou Chaney are thick as thieves. I don’t have a shot in this town.”

She’s right. If Callie Weiss ever wore rose-colored glasses about the way the world works, they’re gone now. She has no illusions left, none at all. She’s poor, and my father is powerful, and that’s the way the cookie crumbles.

Fight back, Callie. Don’t let him get away with it. “The money is a gift, not a settlement.”

She looks up, confusion in her eyes. “I don’t understand.”

“There is no non-disclosure agreement. You aren’t waiving your right to press charges against Eugene Payne. This check has nothing to do with my parents.” I remove a business card from my wallet and hand it to her. “Dixie Ketcham is a lawyer in Jackson. She’ll represent you.”

There’s so much more that I want to say. I want to tell her that her daughter isn’t the first and she won’t be the last. I want to beg her to press charges, remind her that Eugene Payne needs to face the consequences of his actions.

But I’ve seen too many of these women, and they never fight back.

I can’t blame Callie Weiss. She has to do what’s best for Willa Mae, what’s best for her family. And God knows that if she tries to press charges, my parents will drag that poor girl through the mud.

“Why are you doing this?” she whispers. “Why are you helping us, Mr. Payne?”

Because I’m not my father. I take a deep breath and rise to my feet. I have to get out of here, get back to DC before I’m consumed entirely by the past. “Dix is expecting your call.”