Cloud nine dissipated in a dark sky then, replaced by dark, angry clouds and the promise of stormy, dangerous weather.
In the back of my mind, I heard broken gears grinding against one another; cursed to never fit properly with anything ever again.
I turned and walked away.
“I’m Malcolm, by the way,” he called after me as I headed back for my bike. “But everyone just calls me Mack. I hope there’s no hard feelings about all of this. Just thought it was right to warn you before things got painful, you know?”
I didn’t have it in me to respond.
I really just wanted to be alone at that moment.
PART 2
Infection Spreads
SEVEN
~Mia~
Something was going on with Jace.
Ever since the day before, he’d been distant; seemed… wrong.
He’d come home late and, saying nothing, slid into bed. There’d barely been a greeting. When he saw that his arrival had awoken me—saw me looking back at him as he walked in—there was a flash of tension. It was as though he’d caught himself nearly stepping on a venomous creature, a moment of disgust that was outweighed in leagues by fear. Then, seeming to force himself to act otherwise, he’d given me the only greeting I’d get that night: nothing more than a sad glance and a hesitant nod—his eyes seeming afraid to even aim themselves at me—and, after a painful pause, a contemplative grunt. Then he’d been lying down, back to me, and gone still. I’m sure he’d hoped I’d thought he was asleep, but I knew from the pace of his jagged breaths that he barely slept a wink that night. Because of this, I’d barely slept a wink, and what sleep I did manage to steal was haunted by terrible dreams. A portion of this broken-glass slumber was stomped out when I heard the whisper of fabric, and I pulled myself from unconsciousness and caught him getting dressed. This time he didn’t notice me—or maybe he just pretended not to notice—and he didn’t so much as glance in my direction as he slipped away, seeming content to leave me alone and confused in his bed. Terrified by this new demeanor, I’d gone after him, staving off tears, to ask where he was going.
The look in his eyes terrified me. It was cold and distant; it was enough to drive me to silence.
Then, without another word from either of us, he turned and was gone.
Unable to bring myself to do anything else, I slunk back to the bedroom—back to the suddenly cold bed—and allowed my depression to rape my thoughts again and again and again. And, with that being the sole occupier of my morning, a sort of sleep took me—dreamless and with no hope of rest, I simply lost enough hours to my broken heart to claim I must have been asleep. When, at last, enough awareness returned to me to justifiably claim I was among the waking world, the first thought that came was the memory Jace moments before he’d left.
I shivered at just the memory of those eyes on me.
Deciding that just sitting around wasn’t going to help anything, I pulled my phone out and numbly went through the motions to call Candy. When she didn’t answer, I forced myself to leave the bedroom, knowing it would only feed my depression to stay in that suddenly vast desert of a bed, and wound up slumped in the equally vast, equally lonely clutches of the couch. I barely remembered the trip down the stairs and through the living room, the entirety of my mind seeming to cyclone around the freeze-framed scene when Jace had turned to face me before leaving.
What had that look meant?
Was it intentional, or was he just too consumed in Crow business?
Was I taking something personally that wasn’t meant to be?
But something in those eyes…
No, I felt certain that his face was reflecting what he’d been feeling the moment he’d seen me; I felt like… like what was troubling him was me.
But why?
And what did whatever it was mean for us now?
Whatever it was, I knew I couldn’t stay there. Either I was working myself up with thoughts that weren’t accurate reflections of reality, or…
Or there really was something wrong between us.
Either way, I knew I couldn’t stay there; knew I couldn’t coop myself up in that cold, lonely place and wait for something worse to happen—either by my own mind’s doing or…
But I knew it was better not to just leave without at least something of a destination in mind. But I couldn’t reach Candy. Chewing my lip, I considered my other options. Just as I was about to give up, my phone began to light up and I saw that it was Danny.
“H-hello?” I answered, my voice sounding dry and hollow from my extended silence; the pain and sadness that had been carrying me since the previous night betraying my effort to sound otherwise.
“Mia?” Danny’s normally cheerful voice already had an undertone of suspicion, and I cringed at how just my name sounded. “How ya doing? How’s Jace?”
“Good,” I answered slowly, struggling to make the lie sound convincing. “I… uh, Jace is out. Umm… grocery shopping or… well, yeah. Grocery shopping.”
“Oh,” he said, sounding disbelieving. “So where are ya?”
“The condo…” I answered, then immediately realized what I’d just confessed to.
“Jace jus’ left ya at home, huh?” Danny questioned. I could imagine his wise eyes narrowing at the phone, keying in on the fact that something was wrong. “Well… if ye’re all on yer own then ya want to get some lunch or somethin’?”
“Lunch…” I repeated the word, feeling like I might shudder—certain that Depression would tell me I was too nauseous to eat—but was surprised to hear my stomach growl instead. “Lunch actually sounds great,” I finally said.
“A’right. I’ll be by in a jiff to pick ya up,” he said.
“That’s okay,” I cringed, hating the idea of him coming here and catching me like this. I at least needed to collect myself and get away from here. Making a quick-yet-calculated decision, I said, “I’ll take a cab. Where do you want to meet up?”
“Denny’s sound good?”
I almost laughed at the cruel irony of that, but still managed to keep myself composed as I answered, “Sounds fine. See you soon.”
I hung up and thought back to my last experience at Denny’s, the closing act of my first encounter with Jace. I remembered just how strange that night had been. I clenched my eyes shut, not wanting to worry about how Jace was acting. Wanting everything to continue to be as amazing as it had been the past few days.
Was that so much to ask for?
Didn’t we deserve that much with everything that had happened to us?
I sighed—a heavy, almost meditative exhale—and, deciding that it felt good, repeated it more times than I could count. Then, feeling (more or less) collected, I went about getting dressed. Then, still focusing on my breathing, I took the elevator down to the garage and made my way to the security booth. The guard on shift was all smiles and “ma’am”s as he called me a cab, and before long I was in the diner chain’s parking lot and slipping a few bills into the cabby’s hands.
****
“Ya okay, girlie?” Danny called out from the entrance, already holding the door for me despite an entire parking lot still waiting between us.
“Y-yeah, sorry,” I offered. “Just distracted.”
“Well, get yer toosh in here,” Danny smirked. “I’m starving, an’ my chivalry only waits so long when there’s food on the line!”
I smiled at that and hurried in. We were sat with relative ease, the hostess pausing to look at me. I could see that she seemed to recognize me, but that she was unable to place the ‘why.’ This, I realized with some surprise, filled me with a strange sense of pride. Then, just as quickly—realizing that the changes I’d gone through were almost entirely because of Jace’s introduction into my life—I felt myself begin to plummet back into that dark forest where Depression and other mind-monsters lurked. We sat, and for a while we sat in silence; Danny studying me while I withdrew into myself, only distantly aware that I was being studied. I sti
ll couldn’t help but feel that something wasn’t right. And I couldn’t hide that feeling that it was only about to get worse. My stomach turned, Depression finally talking me out of what my stomach had been so eager to bring me here for, and I looked away from the menu. I decided that I would just get tea and maybe some toast.
“What’s on yer mind?” Danny asked, his concerned gaze boring into my own.
“You can tell that easily, huh?” I answered with my own question, unable to bring myself to look up. “Honestly? It’s probably nothing. Just me being stupid…”
“Yer lotsa things, girlie, but stupid ain’t one of ‘em. You say it’s nothin,’ but hows about ya let ol’ Mercury decide that?” Danny pressed, leaning forward on his big slabs of arms.
The entire table shifted under his weight, and the condiments at the end of the table slid a half-inch in his direction. They seemed in that instant to side with him.
I realized I was inclined to do the same.
“Well, last night when Jace got home, he… well, he just seemed really distant,” I shook my head. “I thought maybe he just didn’t want to wake me up, you know? Or maybe he’d had a rough night or something; some pressing Crow business maybe.” I paused then, perking up and asking with no effort to hide the desperation from my voice, “Something didn’t happen yesterday, did it? Something that would have him acting off?”
But Danny only shook his head and shrugged. “Not that I know ‘bout,” he confessed.
That, I knew, meant “no.” If Danny didn’t know about Crow business, it was because there was no Crow business to know about. Nothing happened without his knowing it.
Not unless Jace didn’t tell him, and that, from what I’d gathered so far, just didn’t happen.
I sighed and nodded, already suspecting that was the case. “And then, this morning, it was the same thing: distant and cold. And then he looked at me and it felt like…like he was a totally different person. Like he didn’t even know me. Like he didn’t even…” but I couldn’t complete that sentence.
Not that sentence.
“That don’t sound like Jace,” Danny said with a deep frow, rubbing a large hand over his chin. “But, I mean, this is Jace we’re talkin’ ‘bout. Boy’s nothin’ if not focused, y’know? Maybe he’s jus’ workin’ another surprise for ya. Or maybe he’s jus’ throwin’ himself full-force back into his work; catchin’ up an’ crap like that; not like he needs my permission or involvement to do that. In either case, I’ll talk to ‘im t’morrow; see if there ain’t somethin’ more I can dig up fer ya.”
I blushed and nodded my thanks. “Again,” I said, not wanting Danny to discover that nothing was wrong and think I was nuts for saying anything, “I’m sure it’s nothing,” I bit my lip, suddenly worried about what might happen if Danny said anything of this to Jace. “A-actually, you don’t need to do that. No point in bothering him. Really.”
“A’right,” Danny said after a skeptical pause, his eyebrows raised at me like he already thought I was nuts. “But if things get worse, ya tell me, kay?”
“I will,” I said, forcing a smile. “Thanks, Danny.”
“‘Mercury,’” he corrected me before saying, “So is that all that’s on yer mind?”
“No, I was also thinking,” I began, considering something that had been bothering me for some time. “I don’t know much about his past… and I don’t know exactly how to ask him.”
“Well, let’see…” he began, only to have the waitress arrive and interrupt his thoughts.
The waitress took our orders, and, feeling a bit better, I managed to talk myself into ordering a small plate of pancakes and a blended coffee drink instead of just toast and tea. Danny’s order went on for nearly two minutes and, when all was said and done, comprised of four full entrees, a heavily modified appetizer, and a salad that somehow contained more calories than most of the meals on the rest of their menu. Still scribbling the modifications to Danny’s order into her notepad and looking more than a little war-torn from the experience, the waitress hurried away. I thought she seemed to be retreating from the possibility that he’d change his mind and start ordering more, and this thought made me giggle a little.
With her gone, Danny continued where he’d left off:
“I’ve known Jace since he was little. Used t’bounce ‘im on my knee while ‘is dad an’ me talked business.”
I caught myself genuinely smiling at the thought.
Danny responded with one of his own before continuing. “He was the smarts of the Presley-fam. That’s not t’say that the Presleys were dumb—far from it, n’fact—but Jace was…” Danny paused, considering, and then said, “Even when ‘e was a babe, he’d jus’ look at ya like he was thinkin,’ y’know? Like, ya’d walk into a room, an’ ya’d know there was a li’l tike in there—think nothin’ more of it—but then ya’d find yerself lookin’ at these eyes that just seemed… just seemed to know things. Even ‘fore that boy could talk, folks’d say ‘there’s a boy who can think.’” He paused on that for a moment, seeming to replay his own words back in his head, and then nodded, apparently deciding that, yes, he’d explained this right. “Michael, Jace’s older brother, was sort of raised with the understanding that the Crows would eventually be his to lead. It seems unfair to say aloud, I know, but there was never really any sense of force or demand with the Presleys when the Crows was involved. Everyone in that family jus’ sort o’ knew their place and played the part—‘cept that Jace never had no place in the Crows. He was jus’ a Presley. His dad ran the ship, his mom ran his dad, an’ Michael was the one on deck to run things when his dad stepped down or… well,” Danny sighed and shrugged, “Michael was the one on deck. So everyone jus’ loved Jason fer bein’ the li’l thinkin’ tike he was. With no expectations loomin’ over him he was free to do what he pleased, an’ he was pleased with keepin’ to hisself fer the most part. Didn’t have a lot of friends—wasn’t exactly the socializin’ sort—but he liked music and he liked girls—liked lookin’ at ‘em, at least, even when he was little—and, really, he just liked keepin’ things organized.”
I raised an eyebrow at that. “Organized?” I repeated, not sure I understood.
Danny nodded, furrowing his brow in a confused-yet-entertained expression. “Yeah. Like…” he thought and then smirked, “Like, if he had any porno mags—an’ I can almost guarantee he did—I wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised to find out that he had ‘em alphabetized and separated based on fetishes or whatever. Like, the big-titty mags sorted over yonder an’ the dick-suckin’ mags sorted over yonder. An’ so on an’ so forth. Even young, Jace was the ‘a place fer everythin’ an’ everythin’ in its place’-sort.”
“Any idea why?” I asked, intrigued.
Danny shrugged. “I suppose he got it from the other Presleys. They all had their li’l vices. Dad loved ol’ movies, Mom was into anythin’ and everythin’ vampire-related”—I blushed at that, remembering his reaction to my own interest in vampires—“an’ Michael, ‘cuz of his pops, loved motorcycles and basically anythin’ with an engine. Dad’s movies were kept on a series of shelves in the TV room, organized with more care an’ attention than most libraries can boast. Same with all the vampire-stuff in their Mom’s own little private room.” He leaned forward like he was sharing a secret then. “She called it her ‘office,’” he explained, “but it was basically ‘er own private vampire museum. An’ Michael’s own collection of model bikes an’ cars were all lined up and kept spotless—damn kid actually dusted the things ever’day.” He gave another shrug, this one more dismissive. “So I guess Jace saw all that an’ jus’ took to that sense of order, but applied it to everythin.’ Those thinkin’ eyes never stopped; he jus’ always seemed to be puttin’ what he saw in some sort of box in ‘is head. ‘A place fer everythin’ an’ everythin’ in its place,’” he repeated with another shrug.
“Wow…” I said, considering this and how it applied to Jace in the here-and-now, finding that it explaine
d his meticulous approach to our dates and… well, everything.
The waitress slid back our drinks, still seeming nervous that Danny might start ordering more, and she hesitantly asked if we needed anything else.
Danny dismissed her, and I saw a look of relief on her face as she left.
“So what about his wife?” I asked after taking a sip from the blended coffee. It was sugary sweet—almost too sweet—and I found myself going back for a second, then a third pull on the straw. “How did he meet her?”
A painful expression of pure joy and utter sorrow passed in front of Danny’s face. “Anne?” he said the name as though he expected a response from it. “She… well, she was a childhood friend, one of Jace’s only if she wasn’t his actual only friend,” Danny said. “Her folks were friends of the family—on their mom’s side,” he added, sounding like that fact was important somehow but not explaining why.
I felt like I had a good idea why.
“She was a sweet kid. Sweet to Jace, anyhow, which was rare. Bein’ the only kid in preschool who lined up his Cheerios in li’l shapes had a way of makin’ other kids think he was weird.”
“Kids can be cruel,” I agreed.
Danny laughed. “They’d learn not to be pretty quick with Jace,” he said. “This one time, a boy decided to mess with Jace. He was playin’ with dominos or somethin’ like that, an’ this li’l bastard comes and, like, musses ‘em all around—‘ruined their order,’ was how Jace explained it later—an’ Jace… well, Jace punched the kid in the pecker.” He laughed again and shook his head. “Funny to think ‘bout, actually: this li’l fucker stormin’ over, all cocky an’ swaggerin,’ an’ swings a kick at li’l Jace’s setup, right? An’ then ‘ere comes li’l Jace with a right-hook right to sonny-Jim’s tackle.” Danny nodded in admiration. “Yeah, Jace might’a been a bit screwy, but he had the Presley charm when someone tried t’fuck with ‘im.”
Riding On Fumes: Bad Boy Motorcycle Club Romance (The Crow's MC Book 2) Page 15
