by Krane, Kasey
Turbo, sitting at her feet - on her feet, really - looked up at her and whined. I laughed at him; somehow, I had raised a beggar. His puppy-dog eyes totally worked on Carmen, too; she actually placed her plate on the floor for him to clean off. He went to work, tail wagging.
“You’re spoiling Turbo to no end,” I said, chuckling. “When you leave, he’s going to think he can pull those stunts on me.”
Her shoulders tightened perceptibly at my words and she kept her gaze focused on Turbo industriously cleaning the plate, not meeting my eyes.
God fucking dammit! Why did I have to say “when you leave”? You can be a real dumbass sometimes, Judge.
I didn’t know how to fix it, either. I couldn’t backpedal and say, “I mean, when you stay,” because that would be presumptuous to think that she would want to. I had ruined the let’s-ignore-the-future world that I’d been working so hard to create for us. I needed to just erase the words from the world; pull them back and make them disappear.
If only…
Finally, she sat up in her chair, back straight, chin held up proudly, and looked at me. “I really need to go for a walk and get out of this house. As lovely as it is, I’m not used to being cooped up all day. Would it be okay if I took Turbo for a walk?”
The implication was clear - she wanted to get out of this house, and away from me. I knew it would only be the right thing to do to let her go, but I couldn’t. I promised Mr. Williams I would keep a close watch on her, plus, I didn’t want to let her out of my sight. I may not be smart to push her towards a relationship, but that didn’t mean I was just going to give up.
“I’ll agree to that, if you’ll wear a bulletproof vest and I go with you.” My voice, although light, didn’t allow for a debate. I was not going to allow her to go for a walk by herself and get kidnapped by the Sangre.
Her eyes narrowed and I could tell she was mentally debating whether or not she could win this argument with me, but finally nodded jerkily. “Fine. I’ll go put on some shoes, if you can find the vest. I’m afraid I left mine at home.” She stood up from the table and stalked out of the room.
Tail wagging, Turbo followed her.
Traitor. With a sigh, I went to his office to dig my vest out of the closet.
* * *
“So there she was, poor Maggie, looking up at me, covered from head to toe in mud, and all I could do was laugh!” Her laughter spilled out into the twilight, the street lamps casting their glow periodically along the street. I laughed with her, happy to see her happy again. It’d been a good idea to get out of the house, and the farther we walked, the more Carmen relaxed.
As we walked, Turbo cheerfully sniffing his way along in front of us, I kept an eye on the shadows, the bushes along the street, the wooden fences. Any place a Sangre could be hiding. I had tucked my Desert Eagle into the small of my back and had pulled my cut casually over the top of it, hiding it from view. Carmen may not like me carrying, but I didn’t care. Her safety was more important to me than her comfort level. But there was no reason to wave it in her face either.
“Tell me about Maggie - she’s a student you’ve talked about by name before,” I said. Frankly, I just liked the sound of her voice; its light, happy lilting quality. She didn’t speak like a native of Deming; she placed accents on wrong syllables and said some words completely wrong, at least to my ear.
But it was one of the things I loved about her - I never knew what was she was going to say, or how it was going to sound. It was one of her more endearing qualities.
“Maggie Lara…” Carmen said, and sighed. She grew pensive and a little withdrawn. “I know I’m not supposed to have favorites,” she said, embarrassed, “but if I were going to admit to having one, Maggie would be mine. She’s so goddamned smart, Judge, truly she is. If you met her, you’d be blown away by her. She soaks up English like a sponge - she’s my best English student by far.” We turned left, and began wandering up another residential street. With a start, I realized that we were about to walk past my parents’ home. I had forgotten just how close my house was to my parents’ - only a few streets away. I pushed that thought away - my parents were not something I wanted to focus on, not with Carmen there with me.
“She was left on the front steps of the orphanage in her pueblo when she was a newborn, which isn’t uncommon there. The poverty in that part of Mexico is overwhelming. Things like running water and indoor plumbing, things we take for granted, is an unheard-of luxury to them. When I first told Maggie about a refrigerator, she thought I was pulling her leg. After I convinced her that they were real, she spent the next two weeks telling me what she’d put in a fridge if she had one. And it was stupid things, like cheese and milk. Things we don’t even think about but down there, without easy access to refrigeration, it all spoils very quickly.”
Her voice got tight and a little higher and I knew she was fighting back tears at the thought. I realized that after everything that had happened that day on the bus and since then, she’d never cried.
Not once.
Not over any of it.
But here was her recollection of Maggie and fridges, and she was on the verge of crying. My gut twisted.
We have to get her back.
“Once the head of the orphanage realized how special Maggie was, and truly, it would be hard not to realize this if you met her, he talked some rich Americans into sponsoring her education at a private school, Santa Maria’s. The public school system down there is…it’s awful, Judge. I mean, really, really bad. I got a job at a private school instead of a public one because I couldn’t have handled working at a public one. I may be a bleeding-heart liberal but even I have limits.” She laughed a little, self-deprecating.
I reached out and pulled her to me, a one-armed hug, as we walked down the sidewalk. Past my parents’ house. And I didn’t even care. I was so wrapped up in Carmen and what she was saying, nothing else mattered. I let my arm drop and we continued down the sidewalk. I wanted to just let her talk. Whatever she needed to get out of her, I wanted to hear.
“Anyway, when I met Maggie, I felt this instant bond with her, and she became my shadow. The day that we were hijacked, she was sitting next to me, sleeping. I love her like I would love my own daughter. I tried to protect her that day and…didn’t. Couldn’t.
“I failed her. Judge, I let them take her…” Her voice was even higher, tighter, and she looked away, clenching her jaw. She was walking faster now, down the street, and Turbo began trotting, working his old bones to keep up with her. She was trying to outpace the shit that had happened that day. I knew she wouldn’t appreciate hearing it, but I thought then and I thought now that she was nothing but a goddamned hero. Whether she succeeded or not did not matter. What mattered was that she tried.
I hurried, matching my steps to hers, silence hanging over us, and we got back to the house in record time. I could tell she was still keyed up though, and I said quietly, “When I have a shit situation I’m trying to work out in my head, I go for a bike ride. I still don’t have a helmet that would fit over that bandage, but if I promise to be super careful, will you ride with me?”
I held my breath, knowing I might be asking for too much, knowing how much she’d always hated my bike, but instead of turning me down flat, she looked up at me and said with a bit of surprise in her voice, “Yeah, I would actually like that. Let me go find a hair tie, though - I think this would go better if my hair wasn’t whipping around in my face.” They stepped into the darkness of the house, and as I flipped on one light and then took Turbo’s leash off, Carmen fetched a hair tie from the bathroom.
“Hey, do you know how to braid?” she asked me casually. “If not, I can; it’s just a little too long to do it comfortably.”
“Uhhh…” I stared at her, unsure of what to say. The idea of braiding a woman’s hair was just so…intimate. I’d never considered doing something like that.
“Sure?” I said, uncertain. “If you split it into three sections for me, I
could probably figure out the rest.”
We went into the living room and I sat her down on the arm of the couch so I could easily reach her hair. As I folded the hair into a simple braid, I breathed in the scent of her shampoo. God, she smells so fucking good! I shifted my weight, trying to adjust myself without hands. It was heavenly, breathing in her scent.
Finally, I got to the end of the braid and clumsily wrapped her hair tie around the end. She reached back and patted the braid. “You did great, Judge! Maybe you should’ve gone to cosmetology school and culinary school.” She grinned at me and I laughed.
“I think I’m probably better at tuning bikes, but okay.”
“Is it okay if I ditch the vest?” she asked me, and reluctantly, I agreed. I knew it was stiff and hot, but goddammit, I hated to have her give up that protection.
But, I knew that, even more importantly, I needed to stop acting like an overprotective parent. I was going to drive her away if I didn’t. I took the vest from her and walked it to my office, stuffing it back into the closet.
We walked out into the garage and I got onto my Harley, backing out into the driveway and reorienting the bike in the right direction before I had her hop on. I pulled out slowly onto the street and then picked up speed on the edge of town.
We began winding our way up through the hills, the headlight of my Harley cutting through the darkness, her small, pert breasts pushing against my back. It was agony and joy, all wrapped up in one. Her generous hips and thighs were plastered against mine; her arms were wrapped around me. I had promised her that I would be incredibly careful on this ride, but it was hard to concentrate. Hard to focus on the road.
Finally, we got to the top of Homestead Mountain and we looked out over the Deming valley and got off the bike. The lights of the city lit up the landscape, spread out into the craggy valleys of the mountains. The air was cooler up there, and I felt Carmen shiver. I walked over to an outcropping of limestone rocks and leaned against them, letting the day’s heat seep out and into my body.
“Come over here,” I said, my voice low. Rough with desire. I pulled her willingly against me and although there was no way she could have missed my erection pressing against her, she didn’t pull away but instead settled happily back into my arms.
I breathed in the silence of the mountain, letting her scent intoxicate me. I couldn’t make a move on her, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy every moment of her in my arms. Slowly, rhythmically, I rubbed her arms, letting my eyes drift over the view.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice breaking the silence. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this. I never really knew what the attraction was to riding a bike, but I think I’ve figured it out. The freedom that comes from tearing down the highway…it’s not anything like what you get by driving in a car. It’s a totally different world. I…get you a lot better now.”
I pulled her up against me in a hug for just a moment, but I didn’t want to break the peace that had settled over her. Didn’t want to push her farther than she wanted to go.
Finally, I said quietly, “We should head back. You should be sleeping and healing, not taking bike rides with me.”
“Yeah, but in a small way,” she said, turning and smiling at me, “bike rides are healing for me.”
I resisted the urge to reach out and grab her and kiss her and mark her as mine and although it killed me, I just smiled back and we got on my bike and rode back home.
Because that’s what a gentleman does, and if nothing else, I learned how to be a gentleman from my parents.
That night, as I lay on the hard floor and stared up at the ceiling, Carmen sleeping quietly in my bed, Turbo snoring loudly at her feet, a memory popped into my mind, one I had forgotten about long ago.
After days of asking, Carmen had finally talked me into taking her to my house for dinner. I gave in, mostly to make her happy, but it also didn’t hurt that Mom and Dad were bugging me, too. I hated to do things just to please them, but pleasing them and Carmen was a combo punch I couldn’t ignore any longer.
I was dreading it though; the chances of it going well were pretty much zero. First of all, Carmen still thought I was some hick kid from the wrong side of the tracks, an inaccuracy I was loathing to disabuse her of. I drove a beater car because to drive a nicer one meant getting money from my dad, which I would rather roast in hell than do. But to an outsider? It was downright inconceivable that a Michaelson would intentionally drive a piece of shit car.
And speaking of Michaelson…I’d been intentionally vague when I’d introduced himself as “Judge,” no last name, the night of her dad’s wedding.
She already knew me; she just didn’t know it.
I broke out in a cold sweat.
When I pulled up in front of the Michaelson house and parked in its grand cobblestone driveway, I shrunk down in my seat, bracing for it.
She didn’t disappoint.
“Timmy Michaelson??!” she’d exclaimed, turning to me in horror.
“Shhhiittttt…you do remember.” Which was probably a stupid thing to say, but it was what he was thinking, and I was 17 and stupid was my middle name.
“Of course I remember!!!” she’d hollered and hauled off and hit me as hard as she could on my shoulder. “Everyone called me ‘Cruddy Carmen’ for the rest of the summer!”
My lips quirked at that - I couldn’t help it - and she yelled, “I swear to God, if you tell me that you started that nickname, I’ll punch you in the eye!” She cocked her arm just in case, and I caught it in mine.
“Would you believe me if I told you that it wasn’t on purpose? I saw you start to slip a little in the mud, and reached out to steady you but then I slipped a little too, and I ended up pushing you down instead. I felt bad and I knew I was going to get it when I got home but then when you stood up from the mud, you were just covered from head to toe, and you looked like a mud monster come to life. I was ten - I couldn’t help myself. I laughed.” My lips quirked again and she glared at me a minute longer. Thinking.
It’d been our only real interaction before she’d been sent off to boarding school and I’d held out the ridiculous hope that she’d somehow been struck by selective amnesia at some point during the last seven years and I’d be able to bypass this conversation.
Apparently, luck was not on my side.
“You got in trouble when you got home?” she finally asked.
“Oh yeah, I got it all right. Your dad called my dad and I couldn’t sit down for a week.” My voice was light, joking because I was cool and didn’t show emotion, right, but she stared at me and I could tell she was trying to decide if I was being serious. I was, although I’d die before I admitted it. My dad didn’t hit me any longer - the joys of growing taller than your father by the 8th grade - but when I was younger…
“You kept this from me since the wedding - you knew how upset I’d been over it,” she stated. It wasn’t a question. I hesitated for a moment and then nodded. Reluctantly.
“Don’t hide anything from me ever again, Judge. Promise me that you’ll always tell me, no matter how hard it is for me to hear.”
“I promise,” I said, staring, unblinking, into her eyes. We kissed then, and passion flared up inside of me and she sucked on my bottom lip, pulling it into her mou—
Rap rap.
Carmen leaped away from me with a shriek as I turned to find the butler at the driver’s side window. I rolled down the window casually, as if having a conversation with the butler in the driveway was the most normal thing in the world to do.
“Sir, your father and mother are waiting for you. Inside the house,” and then turned and walked away. Carmen couldn’t stop laughing.
* * *
As I lay on the uncomfortably hard floor and listened to Turbo snore, I felt a knot of panic curl up in my stomach. I had promised Carmen that day to never lie to her, no matter how hard the truth was for her to hear. Some might say that I was 17 and naïve and they’d be right, but…
Well, that landed them in their current predicament. Sure, Bishop had killed Ghost five days ago in order to force the Dead Legion back into legal territory, but it was all the days before that which Carmen wouldn’t overlook. She was a bleeding heart liberal, law-abiding citizen. I was a 1%er, an outlaw biker. We were about as well matched as oil and water.
But…I couldn’t let her go. Just 48 hours after I laid eyes on her in that damn hospital bed, I felt a protectiveness for her that went far beyond even our high school love.
She was my world. And like Turbo, I would follow her to the ends of the earth, if she would have me.
All I’d have to do is hide the last eight years of my life from her. Simple, right?
And with that, I fell into a troubled sleep.
17
Carmen
I woke up with a big stretch and then stared up at the ceiling. I could hear Turbo snoring at my feet; Judge laying on the floor, his own breathing heavy and deep. I could just lie there, and…be.
Think.
Think about what the hell I was doing there. And what the hell was going on between me and Judge. Fuck. This couldn’t work out. Thirteen years was a long time, and I was sure that both us had changed.
I closed my eyes and went over the day that had torn us apart the first time. The day I had looked forward to for so many years, and then…pain.
I fussed with Judge’s cap and then Bishop’s, trying to get them to look respectable. Guys being guys, they’d somehow managed to put the damn things on backwards in their first attempts at getting dressed. They’d both decorated their caps - Bishop with a giant D, Judge with a giant L, both in the brilliant signature red of the Dead Legion. Deming High School principal Mr. Vinestein would’ve had a heart attack if they’d put the Dead Legion’s mascot on their caps, so they’d stuck with letters instead. Who could get angry about two letters of the alphabet, right?
