by Harley Stone
Smart as well as beautiful, just like her daughter. I wanted to put Mrs. Johnson at ease but refused to lie to her. “But we don’t allow women to join the club. We’ll help her, but she won’t be a member.”
“Primitive. Won’t be the first boys’ club she’s broken into, but I don’t know how well these Dead Presidents can help her if they exclude her from membership. She worked to earn the respect of everyone at Cannon, but she’s…. I don’t know if she has the strength or the will to win over anyone right now.”
The picture Mrs. Johnson was painting of Monica had me worried. “How bad is she?”
Mrs. Johnson wrapped her hands around her mug like she needed the warmth. “I don’t even recognize her. I keep telling myself she’ll snap out of it, but I don’t think she will, and that terrifies me.” She took a deep breath and looked away. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. You’re not even close to her, are you?”
“I haven’t seen or talked to her in months, but I understand what you’re saying. There’s something very special about Monica. She’s not like anyone I’ve ever met.” Wanting to reassure Mrs. Johnson I washed down another bite and made a decision. “I don’t know if the club can help her, but I know I can.” And I wanted to. If I could help restore even a smidgen of what made her glow like a goddamn homing beacon, it was not only my duty, but also my privilege.
Her head whipped back around to study me, dark eyes searching my face. “How?”
Some things were better shown than said. Bending over, I pulled the bottom of my jeans up and let her get a good look at my prosthetic leg. I didn’t show it to many people, but knew she needed to see it more than I needed to keep it concealed.
Rather than pity, hope filled Mrs. Johnson’s eyes. “You can relate to her.”
“Yes ma’am. I know what she’s going through, and I can help her. If she’ll let me.”
Mrs. Johnson chuckled. “Oh, she won’t. That girl is a fortress and she doesn’t let anyone in. She loves Naomi like a sister and didn’t even tell her she was injured. If you want to help my daughter, you’re going to have to find a crack in her foundation and wiggle your way through before she realizes what you’ve done. Are you tenacious, Stocks?”
Finishing off my coffee, I considered her question. After leaving the service, I’d often felt alone and worthless. Like many others, I’d thought about taking my own life, but something always stopped me. No matter how hard living got, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I still had shit to do. I didn’t know if that meant I was tenacious or just plain stubborn, but I nodded. “I’m still here.”
The way Mrs. Johnson looked at me made me wonder if she could read my thoughts. Patting my back, she said, “And I’m sure glad you are. Come on. We need to make sure those two are both still breathing.”
She led me out of the kitchen, and I could hear Naomi and Monica as soon as we hit the hallway.
“Because there’s nothing you can do about it,” Monica said.
“So, you’re locking me out? Bullshit. You don’t get to do that. Remember when you busted down my door and made me deal with my pregnancy dilemma? Consider your door broken down, because I’m returning the favor whether you like it or not.”
“Pregnancy is a tad different than this, Nae. You could have stayed on as a pilot. I didn’t even get that choice.”
“And I could have been here as your support system, but you didn’t give me that option.”
Mrs. Johnson stopped me before we reached the doorway, keeping us out of sight.
“You have a family, responsibilities. I knew you’d drop everything and come straight to see me and for what?”
“Because that’s what friends do. Why didn’t you tell me, Monie? Stop feeding me these bullshit excuses and tell me for real.”
“Because you can’t fix it, and you won’t understand. You loved flying, but it wasn’t your life like it was mine. There is literally nothing else I want to do.”
Eavesdropping felt wrong. Knowing I should leave, I opened my mouth to tell Mrs. Johnson I’d wait outside. She held a finger to her lips, shushing me. “If you really want to help her, you need to hear this. I know my daughter. She’ll never admit any of it to your face,” she whispered. “This is the only way to learn where the cracks in her foundation are.”
“How do you know?” Naomi asked Monica. “You’ve never even looked into anything else.”
Monica groaned. “You want to know the real reason I didn’t call you? This is it. I don’t need or want your pep talks. Everything I’ve worked for is gone and nothing’s going to change that. Nothing will ever be okay again, and I’m so fucking sick of people trying to reassure me that it will be.” Her voice cracked, leaking emotion.
Silence.
Seconds stretched.
Someone sobbed.
“Come here.” Naomi’s tone had softened.
“No. I’m barely holding onto my shit right now and if you hug me—”
“Get your ass over here now.”
More silence.
Someone moved.
I waited, wondering what to do. I was so damn uncomfortable I wanted to crawl out of my skin. Naomi had talked about the show-no-weaknesses understanding she shared with Monica, and I was definitely invading their privacy. Hearing Monica pour out her heart only made me want to help her more, and I wasn’t sure she’d appreciate that spurring my motivation.
“I had it all—everything I’ve ever wanted—and a goddamn delivery truck driver took it away.” The anguish in Monica’s voice tore through me. I’d never heard such raw sorrow in my life. I wanted to be the one holding her, the one she was confiding in, and that realization shook me. “And I can’t even hate him. He’s a good guy,” she sobbed. “I did everything right. I worked my ass off, and I loved my life, and now… I don’t know what to do.”
“We’ll figure it out.” Naomi sounded like she was crying, as well. “We’ll solve this, I promise. But don’t think these waterworks are getting you off the hook. I hope your pity party was fun, but this shit ends now.”
“That’s our cue,” Mrs. Johnson said, grabbing my hand. Tugging me into the doorway behind her, she cleared her throat. “You better watch your mouth in my house. Both of you.”
It didn’t matter that they were grown adults who’d seen more combat than any person should, they both apologized, sounding sufficiently sorry.
“Both of you need Jesus. You’re in mixed company now; try to act like ladies.” Clicking her tongue, Mrs. Johnson walked away, abandoning me in the doorway.
“Stocks?” Monica asked as she met my gaze. “What are you doing here?”
Seated on the floor, she was partially hidden by the dresser, so I stepped in and let my gaze sweep over her body, taking in the damage. Her stunning face had been scarred, and her left arm ended at the elbow. She was thinner than I remembered, practically drowning in the yoga pants and baggy T-shirt she wore. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying, and her damp hair was out of its braids and down in tight curls that went barely past her shoulder blades.
She still took my breath away.
Her beauty had changed. The scar gave her an edge, and the haunted look in her eyes spoke of pain and suffering. I hadn’t seen the woman in months, and her life had fallen apart, but neither time nor tragedy had made her any less attractive. If she asked me to follow her again, I would in a heartbeat. It wouldn’t even matter where we were going.
Nervous and feeling even more out of place than I had been with eavesdropping, I waved like an idiot, and then immediately regretted the action and dropped my hand to my side. “Hi.”
“Um.” Naomi stood. “I… Uh… So, Stocks came with me. Your mom said the insurance company replaced your car, so I figured he could drive it up to Seattle so you’ll have it.”
Something between a gasp and a snort came from Monica as her head whipped around to glare at Naomi. “I. Can. Fucking. Drive. Myself.” Fire and brimstone eked out of each word, making me take a step b
ack.
“How would you know? Your mom said you’ve barely been out of bed since you made it to Portland. I tried to call you to confirm, but you didn’t feel the need to pick up your damn phone, so I had no clue what shape you’d be in or what pain killers you’re on,” Naomi fired back.
“Fine. I should have called you. Get over it. But when you stepped into my room, maybe you should have led with, ‘Hey that hot guy you picked up at my party is here, you might not want to unravel into a pathetic mess.’ Thanks for havin’ my back, Nae.” Monica stared at the ceiling. “Un-fucking-believable.”
I took two key points from her statement. One, she thought I was hot. Two, she wasn’t exactly thrilled to see me. It had promise, but wasn’t the reception I was hoping for. “I can wait in the car.”
“No. It’s fine,” Monica said, but the look on her face said otherwise. She stood and marched out of the room without another word. I’d love to explore the details of how hot she thought I was, but could almost see the impenetrable fortress around her that Mrs. Johnson had mentioned. It would take some work before we got to that point.
Naomi blew out a breath. “She’ll be fine; she just needs to cool off. Help me get these suitcases closed.” She gestured to the luggage collection lined up along Monica’s bed.
Monica had more clothes and shoes than anyone I’d ever known. She’d stuffed her suitcases so full closing them was a two-person job. I sat on them to squish the clothes down while Naomi worked the zippers. Once everything was as contained as possible, we rolled the suitcases out and loaded them in Naomi’s car.
“Shouldn’t we be putting these in Monica’s rig?” I asked.
“No. This is insurance that she’ll actually make it to the clubhouse. She’ll never abandon her clothes and shoes. By the way, I don’t care what she says, you’re riding with her, so be prepared to make that happen.”
Before I could ask how I was expected to force a grown woman into letting me tag along, Naomi disappeared back into the house. Moments later, she returned with Monica and Mrs. Johnson. Monica was glaring daggers at both of them. She hugged her mother, and then marched to the candy apple red Acura in the driveway and slipped behind the wheel.
“Have fun with that,” Mrs. Johnson said, hugging Naomi goodbye. “Thank you for coming.”
“I’ll look after her,” Naomi promised. “She’ll be okay. I’ll keep you updated.”
“Good. Give me a moment with this young man, please.”
Naomi gave us a questioning look. “Okay. I need to have one more little chat with Ms. Monie Love before we hit the road anyway.” She hurried to the Acura and sat in the passenger’s seat.
Mrs. Johnson watched the two of them, shaking her head. “Best thing Monica ever did was finding a friend who’s just as stubborn as she is. You might have to play referee until the two of them hash this out.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
“Be careful not to make direct eye contact or take sides, and you’ll be all right.”
I liked Mrs. Johnson. She was as down-to-earth as they came, and her sense of humor was on point.
“We don’t know each other well, Stocks, but I’ve always been good at reading people. You really do want to help her, don’t you?”
“Yes ma’am. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
She arched an eyebrow at me.
“That’s not entirely true. Naomi would have dragged me down here regardless.”
“I love that girl like she was my own. Don’t know what her mama was thinkin’ to walk away from her. Give me five minutes with that woman and I…” She blew out a breath. “Never mind. The good Lord’s gonna have to take care of Naomi’s mom. We’ve gotta focus on my baby. She’s gonna fight you every step of the way, you know?”
I glanced back at the car. Monica was still staring straight ahead, and Naomi was talking to the side of her face. “I’m aware. But as long as she’s fighting me, she’ll have a purpose. I won’t let her give up.”
Mrs. Johnson pulled me in for a hug. Handing me a gallon-sized bag of goodies, she said, “See that you don’t.”
I eyed the bag, deciding to throw a little humor back at her. “Is this a bribe, Mrs. Johnson?”
“Are you insinuating that I need to bribe you to get you to help my baby?”
Chuckling, I shook my head. “No ma’am.”
“Then we’ll just call it sweetening the deal.”
Monica
I’D NEVER FELT so betrayed in my life. Looking into the bathroom mirror, I saw the train wreck that Stocks had encountered, and couldn’t help but wince. My scar was a white line now, disfiguring my face and making me look like an extra for the Nightmare Before Christmas. Sunken, hollow eyes stared back at me.
He saw me crying.
God, I must have looked so weak, blubbering on the floor like a baby.
Why do I care? I’m going to Seattle where I’ll flip everyone the bird and crawl right back into bed. Fuck Naomi. Fuck Stocks. Fuck everything.
I was done with this life and all the assholes in it. Maybe I’d become a nihilist and smoke weed all day long.
Naomi approached my car, and I fought the urge to lock the doors so she couldn’t get in. She’d probably bust open my window, though, and I’d have to run her ass over. I wouldn’t do that to my sweet little niece, Maya, regardless of what a bitch her mom was being.
“I’m sorry I brought him,” Naomi said as she slid into the passenger’s seat. “Actually, I’m not. I’m sorry it upset you. Bringing Stocks was the right move, because you shouldn’t make the drive alone.”
“And you couldn’t find anyone else to bring?”
“I’d just heard that my best friend had almost died and then lied to me about it. I wasn’t thinking clearly enough to even look for someone else.”
She had a point. “Fine. I get it. Whatever.” Her gaze was practically burning a hole in the side of my face, but I refused to look at her. Of all the people she could have had tag along, she’d brought Stocks. Worse, I didn’t know why it was bugging me so much. Maybe because Stocks was so damn fine? Or maybe it was because of the way he’d rose to every sexual challenge I’d thrown at him and exceeded all my bedroom expectations? Whatever the reason, I never wanted him to see me like this, and he couldn’t exactly unsee the hot mess I’d become.
“We knew what we were getting into when we signed up,” Naomi said, interrupting my thoughts. “This isn’t daycare. There’s no naps or treats, and nothing is fair. You knew the rules when you signed up. You knew it would be hard and dangerous. Hell, that’s why you did it.”
Recognizing the speech, I finally turned to glare at her. “Fuck you, Nae. Don’t throw my words back at me. That was about you acting like a bitch because you had to train newbies. This is about the end of everything I’ve ever wanted. Everything I’ve worked my ass off to achieve.”
“No, fuck you. That was wise advice, applicable to any situation, really. Life kicked you in the teeth and that sucks. But you’re still breathing! You do not get to give up and become some woe-is-me bitch.”
“This is why I didn’t tell you about the accident! Just stop preaching at me. I’m going to Seattle. What more do you want?”
“I want you to fight!”
“That’s literally all we’ve been doing since you arrived.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I don’t want you to fight me, I want you to fight for you. And for me, and for your parents, and for every other person who loves you and knows that you’re a hell of a lot more than some one-trick pony. You think flying was your life, and I get that, but Monie, you are so much more than a pilot. You are my best friend. You’re funny and smart and talented, and I’ve never known anyone who could walk into a room and win everyone over like you do. Seriously, you have charisma for days. You have so much more to offer than what you could do in a bird. I want you to fight. If not for you, then for the rest of us, because I need you.”
She was on the verge of tears again. Guilt
squeezed my insides as I added Naomi’s name to the growing list of people my behavior was hurting. I’d fought my entire life, and for what? So that one hit could take my prize from me? Getting back in the ring didn’t seem worth all the pain and heartache. I wanted to tap out, but Naomi was right. I couldn’t do that to the people I loved. Still, everything felt so hopeless and hollow. I didn’t know what to say, so I grabbed her hand and squeezed it.
“I mean it.” Naomi squeezed my hand back. “You may think you don’t have a purpose anymore, but I need your help. I’m trying to raise this kid, and I have no fucking clue what I’m doing. I barely remember my mom, so how am I supposed to be one? I can teach Maya how to be a bossy bitch, but you’re her only shot at that whole charisma thing. Promise me you’ll try.”
I didn’t want to, but she made some good points. “What exactly does trying entail?”
“Make your doctor’s appointments. Get fitted for a fucking prosthetic. Do the physical therapy. Handle your shit.”
It still seemed pointless to me. But knowing it would make her happy, I reluctantly agreed. “Okay. I’ll try.”
Releasing my hand, she gave me a hug, kissing my cheek. “Monie Love, you are my best bitch, and I’m not letting you go.”
Before I could respond, she opened the door and got out, letting Stocks in. He sat and gave me a hesitant smile. “Hey.”
“Hi.” Resounding response, but it was all I had in me.
He was carrying a gallon-sized bag of my mother’s baked goods. Figuring Mom had sent them as a last-ditch effort to shove food down my throat, I eyed the bag. “Are those for me?”
He clutched it to his chest. “No. I’ll share, if you’re hungry, but she sent them for me.”
Interesting. “Have you been hanging out with my mom since you guys arrived?”
“Yes ma’am. I like your mom. She’s funny, and these cookies are life.”
Mom hadn’t been funny since my accident. I gave Stocks the side-eye, but he didn’t elaborate. Instead, he said, “It’s good to see you.” Red crept up his neck and his look of sheer panic almost made me laugh. “I mean, the circumstances suck and I’m sorry about your arm and everything, but I’m glad you’re okay.”
