Hot Stuff

by Virginia Page

  Chapter 5

  In the morning, Hot Stuff had gotten out of bed without me noticing. He must have had something urgent to do. Everyone scurried around the clubhouse like there was an emergency. A biker named Butchy told me I had to leave, because I wouldn’t be safe if I stayed. I told him I didn’t have anywhere to go. He had his old lady, June, take me into town. On the ride, I asked her what was happening, but she wouldn’t tell me, because whatever had been going down was big and MC business. I was an outsider, so she wouldn’t share any information with me, and I understood.

  I wasn't sure how I’d get back, or if I’d ever be welcome again, but figured I’d find a way. Whatever was going on would probably blow over in a day or two. June dropped me off and told me she’d be back in town at the end of the week, so if I needed a ride back, I'd be able to find her at the local pub. She gave me enough change to buy breakfast and a coffee.

  I went into the local diner to keep warm. I worried about Hot Stuff, wondering if he was okay. He was tough, so I knew he’d be able to take care of himself. In the meantime, I needed to figure out how to take care of myself. I was happy to be able to get a hot coffee, hoping to get rid of the chill in my bones. Since I was a customer, I could sit inside much longer without being hassled about loitering. I wanted breakfast but didn’t order it, hoping to stretch the money June had given me into several days of coffee. I asked the waitress if they were hiring. She told me the boss wasn't currently looking for anyone, but I should check back in a few weeks just in case something were to open up. I went through the money June had given me by the second day. Every day after that I searched for bottles to buy a coffee and anything to eat.

  My job search wasn't going very well. Each place wanted me to fill out an application, but I didn't have an address, and I never looked at the address of the MC club, so I couldn't complete the applications. Plus they wanted my job history. I’d never had a job, so it wasn't likely they would want to hire me when there were others who had experience.

  One day when I was sitting drinking a coffee, I noticed a man watching me. He wore a business suit and was well groomed. He smiled at me, so I smiled back. I felt insecure at how I looked because I hadn't had a change of clothes in weeks, but it didn’t seem to bother him. He told me his name was William. We made smalltalk, him smiling at me, giving me those eyes, me flirting back. He invited me to sit with him. We talked for a while and had a great time, getting to know each other. He invited me out on a date, and I took him up on his offer. After we were done drinking coffee, he drove me to a fancy restaurant, where we enjoyed filet mignon for dinner. For dessert, I had tiramisu and crème brûlée. I couldn’t believe he’d let me order two desserts. He had pecan pie, which looked so delicious, I wanted to stick my fork into it and take a bite but resisted the temptation. The flavors caused my lips to quiver. I’d never had quality food, so I was surprised at what I’d been missing out on. I definitely could get used to being pampered. I’d tried my best not to chow down the food, which was difficult because I’d been starving, but I was able to keep my composure, eating like a civilized girl should.

  I’d never let on to William that I was homeless, and he never asked me where I lived. He told me he wanted to see me again, but I was reluctant to go on another date. I figured if he saw me wearing the same clothes on our second date, he might become suspicious, and I didn't want to mess up the special moments we had on our time out. William seemed to really like me a lot. His eyes were bright, looking me over, his smile flooding, soaking me in. He was definitely infatuated or most likely horny, him ogling my body.

  I, on the other hand, couldn't stop thinking about Hot Stuff, wondering what he was doing, looking forward to going back to see him again. The timing just didn't seem right for William and me. My feelings for Hot Stuff were too strong, so I said goodbye to William, and we parted ways.

  On Friday night, I went to the pub to get a ride back to the MC house. I sat around the bar all night waiting for June, but she never showed up. People in the bar talked about a tragic fatality that had occurred just outside of town. I couldn't tell exactly what had happened, but it had something to do with a fire. Everyone discussed what a damn shame that the MC had been destroyed by a rival gang.

  My skin crawled, thinking about my Hot Stuff, wondering where he’d gone, hoping he was safe. I needed to get back into his arms.

  I sparked up a conversation with a couple of ladies who were drinking more than their fair share of cosmopolitans. They told me they were headed out of town, so I asked if I could catch a ride with them, and they agreed. I had them drop me off down the road from the clubhouse. The distance was less than a mile, but it felt like I’d been walking forever.

  When I got closer, black clouds billowed in the sky up ahead, and ashes were everywhere. The whole place had burned down to the ground, and nobody was there but a group of firemen getting everything under control. I couldn't find Hot Stuff. I couldn’t stop shaking, wondering if he’d gotten hurt. I couldn't find anyone from the MC.

  I walked back down the road, hoping the ladies who’d driven me were still around, but they were long gone.

  I plopped down, sitting on the curb, covering my face, crying my eyes out. A trucker stopped, picked me up, and drove me back into town. During the drive, I asked him if he knew what had happened to the MC club, and he mentioned hearing something on his CB radio about a horrible fire caused due to explosions from a gang rivalry. Someone said the MC were all dead. Moans from my heart spilled out, me not able to keep them in. The trucker never said another word, and I could tell he’d regretted telling me what he’d heard. I whimpered the entire drive back. I couldn't believe I’d finally found my soul mate, only to have him taken away from me. Once I saw familiar territory, I asked the trucker to stop. He gave me an understanding look and a warm smile, telling me he hoped I’d be alright. He asked if there was anything he could do to help, but I told him I’d be okay and thanked him.

  For the next few weeks, I tried my best to gain any information about Hot Stuff's motorcycle club, but nobody knew anything. Everyone I’d asked had been tight-lipped, not wanting to share any information, as if their lives depended on it, so I wasn’t able to find out the name of the club. I remembered seeing skulls on their leather jackets, but that apparently was too vague. Motorcycle clubs having skulls on leather jackets seemed to be common, so I was having a tough time narrowing it down to one. All of my attempts to find Hot Stuff led me nowhere, so I assumed the worst. My love was gone.

  I hadn’t had anything to eat for days, dry-heaving from time to time. I’d become green and queasy.

  Wandering down the street, I saw William walking into the coffee shop. He was looking around. I wondered if he might have been trying to find me. When I walked inside, his eyes lit up as if he’d been expecting me. Feeling woozy, I sat down, holding my mouth, dry-heaving.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “I’m not feeling well,” I replied.

  “Would you like me to take you to a doctor?”

  “Yes.”

  William walked me to his car and drove me to a nearby clinic, where I found out I was pregnant, turning my world upside down. When I got back to the waiting room, William was still there waiting for me.

  William asked me if I was okay. I told him I’d be fine. He took me out for lunch. I’d barely said anything to him since the clinic, but he kept being so nice to me that he cheered me up. Me worrying on the inside, not knowing what I was going to do, or where I was going to go, I couldn’t even take care of myself. How would I take care of a baby?

  Like a broken record, William asked me out on another date, not taking no for an answer. I told him I couldn't go out with him anymore. The more I said no, the more persistent he’d become. He wanted a good reason why not. Like ripping off a bandage, I dropped the bomb on him. I told him I was pregnant. I’d expected him to run for the hills, but he didn't. He asked me if I was with the father. I’d burst into tears, telling him my ba
by’s father was gone, most likely dead. William comforted me, telling me he’d take care of me. I thought he was crazy, but I couldn't resist the offer, especially since I didn't have any other choice. He asked me to move in with him, and I agreed.

  Chapter 6

  I couldn’t believe William hadn’t called complaining that I shouldn’t have been snooping around in his things. Restless, I squirmed in my seat, worrying, anticipating a response, any response, any closure whatsoever. Feeling helpless, I wallowed in the remains of my failing marriage. My life had crashed down around me, and I needed hope, any hope. Turning our relationship around seemed impossible, but I needed there to be a way. There had to be a way. Obsessing, I wondered if he’d read my letter yet?

  Writing the letter to William had taken all the nerve I had, a last-ditch effort to appeal to his emotions. Pouring my heart out to him didn’t feel like the right thing to do, since I didn’t love him. I couldn’t be sure he’d agree, but I had to do something, anything. My body trembled as I fought off a stew of helpless feelings, obsessing over troubled thoughts, ruminating within me. I kept trying to convince myself staying with William would be the best decision for Chloe’s future. I was willing to be unhappy as long as she was well taken care of.

  I hoped maybe William would have mercy on me and allow us to rebuild our relationship, but of course, I knew it wouldn’t be that simple. We were polar opposites. I’d always been the easygoing one, while he’d been so tightly wound most of the time. In spite of our differences, I figured it would probably be best to give our marriage one more chance, not for myself, but for the sake of my daughter.

  I looked over at our wedding photo on the shelf next to the table, the frame displaying William and Molly together forever. I reached over and took it down, so I could get a closer look at us together, hoping to renew any spark that might have still existed. The frame was dusty, so I removed the picture. My eyes welled up, and some drops of my tears smudged my face on the photograph, while William's face remained completely spotless, appearing as though all of the pain and grief was attracted to me. I knew I shouldn't have taken the photo out of the frame in the first place. I'd ruined our wedding photo. Maybe William was correct. Maybe I couldn’t do anything right.

  I sat at the kitchen table pondering my situation. What would I do if he didn’t want to give our relationship another chance? How would I support Chloe all alone? Where would we go? My body trembled as I cried and moaned, wiping my eyes and nose, trying to get myself together. My body shook periodically, breathing heavily, almost having a panic attack. Hurting to cry, hurting to breathe, hurting to exist, my throat hurt to swallow just thinking about us.

  After William had left for his trip, I hadn't spent much time with Chloe. Mostly, I just sat at the kitchen table, feeling flustered, going over the situation in my mind, over and over and over, hoping to figure it all out. I pacified Chloe with video games in the other room, her playing by herself, wanting to bring myself some peace of mind, needing to solve all of my problems. What kind of mother was I? I cringed with disappointment in myself, regretting my behavior, feeling inadequate, drowning in shame and self-pity. I covered my face with my hands, feeling helpless, hoping things would get better.

  Normally our home was immaculate, but I was having difficulty motivating myself to do anything lately. I glanced around the room, noticing I’d let everything go, intending to get up and clean, wanting to do anything whatsoever, but eventually doing absolutely nothing.

  Soiled dishes piled high on the kitchen sink, a waft of what smelled like old garbage and stale coffee grounds lingered in the air. There wasn’t an empty, flat surface in the whole kitchen. Paper plates with half-eaten, cream-filled desserts and coffee cups had accumulated on every counter top. Most were treats purchased from the local coffee shop I walked to every morning, noon, and night to reward myself for getting out of bed. I had a weakness for sweets, which motivated me. Just looking at them caused me to perk up with enthusiasm. Drinking chocolate mochas and eating decadent, gourmet pastries filled with thick, smooth Bavarian cream were my favorite treats of all. My lips quivered just thinking about all of the different types of luscious confections yet to eat. Though, any comfort food I could find would do. I wasn't too picky as long as the desserts were yummy. I’d indulged myself more than I should have, but I tried my best to limit my portions when I had the strength. I checked to see if any of the treats were salvageable, but they were all hard and stale. I had exhausted my allowance from William, so I couldn’t buy any more until he returned.

  My eyes hurt from all of the crying I’d done in the past week. Becoming more difficult for me to get out of bed each morning, I’d become distant, an air of melancholy surrounding me. By mid-week, even the idea of getting treats wasn't motivating me anymore. Drowning in my misery for hours in bed, just staring at the wall, only getting up to check on Chloe every once in a while, I’d become utterly hopeless. I knew my actions weren't right, but I also knew she would be better off in the other room, shielded from my mood swings. I’d been in such an awful state and didn't want to snap at her. Taking my bad feelings out on Chloe wouldn't have been right. Knowing if I’d been around her, I might have said something upsetting, which I wouldn’t have meant and would have regretted.

  My misfortune had most likely been caused by all of the mistakes I’d made in my youth, coming back to haunt me. Karma had paid me back for all those people I’d disappointed. I wondered how I would turn everything around? What could I do to fix myself?

  Everything appeared gray, dim, and distant. I turned and looked around the room. All of the blinds were closed and barely any light shined inside. The life had been sucked right out of me. I needed to figure out how to think positively. If only I could cope with my fragile emotions and build some confidence, everything would be better.

  I gave the best years of my life for William's happiness in exchange for what might be a temporary stay. I rubbed my tummy and squeezed my hips. Once I’d let myself go a little, his wandering eyes seemed to be searching for a newer model. How could he be so shallow? I’d fully devoted myself to him, so I expected the same in return.

  Maybe I’d overreacted. Maybe William had been faithful. Although, something inside of me had me feeling he’d been untrue. Lately, I noticed his behavior had been somewhat suspicious, going outside to talk on the phone, stopping his conversation when I got close to him, staring at me with those guilty eyes. He also showed interest in improving his hygiene and dressing more stylish, wearing expensive Italian suits, which in the past he would have made fun of. His deceit rattled through my bones. Maybe my imagination had been playing tricks on me, but I didn't believe so. My initial thoughts had been to play make believe and ignore the fact that he might have slept with another woman, but I couldn't deal with not knowing. The suspense had been eating away at my soul, so I had to know the truth. I had to know for sure. I needed to do something, anything, but all I could do was wait.

  Chapter 7

  I’d been reflecting on how William and I had been together for over five years. I tried my best throughout that time, doing everything I could to keep peace, pleasing him, hoping to keep our relationship going strong, hoping to bring us together as a family, hoping I could love him as much as he said he loved me. Of course, things would only work if both were to put in the effort.

  William’s generosity was a bright shining light in my dull circumstances. He wanted to take care of me, in spite of the fact I was carrying another man's baby. I didn't feel love for William, but I was grateful and willing to learn to love him as time went on, so I could return the favor. I realized not many men would have been open to me, being with a single mother-to-be. William seemed different, not perfect, not great, better than most.

  William and I had gotten married. I was excited because I finally had health insurance and wouldn’t have to worry about how I’d be able to afford my hospital visit for my pregnancy. We prepared for the baby. He took me out and bought anything I
needed. It seemed as if money was no object when it came to me.

  When Chloe was born, William had me put him down as the father on her birth certificate. In that moment, I had great hope for our future. Not only did he accept me, but he’d accepted my unborn baby as his own, which made me open my heart up to him.

  Things were good at first, until we took Chloe home from the hospital. It turned out William wasn’t good with children. Chloe cried a lot, more than the average baby. Most of the time, he’d shout for me to make her shut up. I tried to explain to him that babies would cry from time to time. It was not something you could just turn off. You couldn't easily negotiate with a baby to stop fussing. He had difficulty sympathizing, which kept me feeling stressed out most of the time.

  William had become worse, unreasonable, impossible to deal with, always fussing about anything and everything, looking for things to bitch about, anything to bitch about. Maybe having a child was more pressure than he’d expected. Although, his controlling nature had him always insisting on making every important decision regarding Chloe. Apparently, I wasn't responsible enough to make such decisions, being so young and naive, at least in his opinion.

  As Chloe got older, things continued to get even worse. William couldn't understand why children wouldn't just listen as instructed. When Chloe would turn the light switch off and on and off and on and off and on, it would drive him crazy. She’d giggle and run away shouting, "Nah nah nah nah nah. You can't catch me.", thinking they were playing a game. I tried to explain to him that children were playful and did silly things for attention. He told me to take Chloe to a psychiatrist, so she could be analyzed and fixed. The idea of falling in love with a man who didn't love my child was inconceivable.

  William got to the point where he’d look for something, anything, to bitch about regarding Chloe. Sometimes, she wasn't even doing anything wrong, and he’d ask me if she had to breathe so much. How dare him, saying something like that about my child. I realized his behavior wasn't something that was going to change, so I needed to figure out a way to minimize his frustration. What choice did I have? I just had to come up with ways to distract William from Chloe, so he’d have other things to occupy his mind. Most of the time, I’d flatter him about his accomplishments, so he’d focus on himself instead. More times than not, it worked like a charm.