Friction

by Jamie Magee

“Good band.”

  “Right. Where’s your boy?”

  “My man is downstairs somewhere,” she said just to push his buttons. Everybody was a boy to Sawyer.

  “You don’t look like you’re having fun. This scene too boring for you now?”

  “I don’t think Easton is having fun, and maybe…I don’t know, live shots of the bands playing are fun to take, but the company still doesn’t know how to keep their hands to themselves.”

  He only nodded.

  “So, you knew Easton and the Dorans? When we started dating, we figured out we had been to a lot of the same places, just at different times.”

  Sawyer held her stare for a second, even glanced at her elbow, to her scar. “I’m sure your paths came closer than you think they did.”

  For some reason Georgia felt her gut plummet. She told herself it was nothing more than an old anxiety, one where she was always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  “So, was he a wild one?” she quipped, doubting that he was. Easton was too reserved in general.

  “You’re asking me for tips on your ‘man’?”

  “Not hardly. I know who he is now. His mom told me who he was growing up. There is a gap, though, not a lot of details about the road.”

  “And he’s not letting you in the gap?”

  “I don’t really let him in mine either, so it’s fair.”

  Sawyer leaned back. “You know, I kept watching you two yesterday. It was odd because I know how the both of you were in a place like this, and to see you where you were…it was a little strange.”

  “And how are we in a place like this?”

  “The same. Only Easton doesn’t throw down credit cards to bail his date out. More like punches.”

  “Fighting?”

  Sawyer had zero tolerance for fighting in his bar. She had a sinking feeling Easton had met Sawyer on bad terms.

  “There were a few. He never started them, but he damn well finished them.”

  “Did he get in trouble?”

  “Not when the bar owner told the cops it wasn’t his fault. That ex of his was one conniving bitch.”

  “I can’t say I’ve heard anything awesome about her. It drives me nuts because I don’t even know who she is. It’s like she’s this ghost who can pop up at anytime.”

  Sawyer’s brow shot up. “You don’t know who she is?” His tone led her to believe she should, that he knew that she did.

  “Do I?”

  Sawyer shook off what he was going to say and leaned forward. “I told Easton she was no good, a thief and a player, and he said he knew. That they were just a thing—said he was only trying to help her out.” Sawyer hesitated. “I told him he wasn’t going to help in a bar. If she wanted it, she would find him in the real world, and if he didn’t watch his back, she’d get him in more trouble than she was worth.”

  “She gave him Grace.”

  “I wouldn’t call that little girl trouble. Trish got him in trouble with the law. She would get herself in a bad situation at the bar, a fight would start because Easton, or even Wyatt, were trying to defend her, and during that commotion Trish would pick the pockets of the crowd. It was a mess. It went away pretty fast. The cameras showed her acting alone, and when they went after the boys, saying they were the distraction, I went back to my tapes and showed how she had done that long before Easton came around, that she did it when he wasn’t around. She was locked up. He came back around the bar on the regular then, at least when whatever rodeo they were at was close enough for them to.” Sawyer laughed. “He said it was the only place he knew she would not surface anymore.” Sawyer shook his head. “Unfortunately, or fortunately, depends on how you look at it, Easton grew out of the bar scene, stopped coming around, and sure enough Trish popped back up.”

  “I’m not really getting why he tried to help her if she did that to him.”

  “You? You don’t get it? How much money did Hunter drain off you? How many of his old friends did I have to tell to back off you? What did you live through?” Georgia didn’t answer. “You were attached to Hunter. He wasn’t attached to Trish. She was a hook up. And Easton was a fighter. A fighter with a good heart. If she came to him out of this environment and asked for help, I can see him trying to do that.”

  “Why, though? I was attached to Hunter, felt guilty when he fucked up. Why would Easton give a damn if Trish did, if she was just a hook up?” Georgia sharply looked away and shook her head, she had no idea where her outburst came from but she knew it wasn’t Sawyer’s place to explain it to her.

  Sawyer leaned toward her. “He tried to help her because he’s a good guy, not because he loved her, not because of some wild passion. You should never feel threatened by her.”

  “I don’t know that I do. I just want her far away from me.”

  “It’s a small world, Georgia, in this business for sure. You’re always going to cross someone who knew Georgia and Hunter, and you may very well cross people who remember Easton fighting for Trish.”

  “They were a known couple?”

  He shook his head. “Just let it go, Georgia. It made my year to see you with him yesterday. It was a little head spinning at first, but you two make sense. More than sense.”

  “You need a beer,” she said, picking up his empty bottle. She wasn’t in the mood to take the conversation where he was leading it.

  The venue had more than seven bars in it. There was one on this floor, but there was a line. Apparently, a radio station had given out a ton of tickets to see the headliner tonight, and those people were crowding to find the best spot.

  There was a guy who wouldn’t shut up as she moved up in line. She had blown him off more than once. While she was waiting on the drinks, she heard the crowd below chanting, “Fight! Fight!” Still fresh from her and Sawyer’s conversation, Georgia’s gut plummeted. The ass next to her put his arm around her and said, “See, baby, you need me to keep you safe.”

  She felt his arm jerked away and the gravity of Easton behind her. He wasn’t in the fight downstairs, but he sure looked like he was about to start one.

  “Is there a reason you have your hands on my girl?” Easton said in a deep, level tone. The guy left the bar and his drinks like the place was burning down.

  Easton pulled her against him and grabbed the bottle of water and Sawyer’s beer in his other hand.

  “Where the hell did you go?” she asked when they got back to the tall table Sawyer had abandoned. He was a few feet away from it, talking to the owner.

  “Thought I saw someone I knew,” he said coldly.

  “Someone, huh?”

  He didn’t hear her at first. The crowd was even more pumped now that there had been a fight downstairs; some fool almost spilled a beer on Georgia, and another was leaning against her, clearly on purpose. “Do you want to go?” he asked.

  “Will you stop acting like an ass if we do?”

  “Sorry, babe,” he said, pulling her closer. “Just protective.”

  She nodded, telling him she was good with leaving. Easton sent Wyatt a text that said they were out. When she told Sawyer goodbye, he told her he would be down every few weeks and they could have dinner on the regular.

  They were in the truck on their way to the interstate before she said anything. “Did you think Trish was there?”

  His jaw stiffened, and his grip on the steering wheel tightened. “I wasn’t sure. I saw some people she used to be around. Wyatt did anyway.”

  “Why did you go looking for her?”

  “Because I want her locked up.”

  She glanced over him, noting the fury she saw waving over him, and was sure she was missing something. “Are the cops looking for her?”

  He nodded tightly.

  “For?”

  He glanced to his side at her then the road. “Arson. Fraud.”

  “Arson?”

  One nod.

  “She didn’t—she wasn’t—” Georgia couldn’t get the words out. Too much rage and fear
were swarming in her head.

  “They don’t know for sure, but one of her aliases was staying at the hotel—their room started the fire.”

  Georgia turned in her seat wide-eyed staring at him. “A door was locked behind you, Easton, trapping you and the others—are you telling me this crazy bitch was trying to kill you?”

  He gripped the steering wheel. “I’m sure she was tying to make me need her.”

  “Do what?”

  “That’s how she is, manipulation. She digs a hole in your life and makes you think you need her. It never really worked on me.”

  “She gave you Grace thinking it would get you over me—then she came back to help you get over grief she thought she caused…and now.”

  “I don’t know, Georgia. It’s speculation until they catch her. Right now it would be easier to go after her for fraud then pull it all together.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

  “I gave you more than one out before we started this,” he said before clenching his jaw.

  “I’m not looking for a fucking out, Easton—I want to know why you worried about this without me!”

  He was silent for a long moment, endured the burn of her glare. “Because you want to live in the moment, Georgia, not forward or back, and I’m trying to let you do that…it kills me but I am.”

  He glanced to his side to see if she understood.

  “I’m not half as flighty as you think I am,” she said in a tone absent of all malice.

  He reached across the cab, took her hand and laced her fingers through his. “I want to live in every moment with you, Georgia. And I aim to do so.”

  ***

  It was 4 A.M. Easton had been awake all night, not really a good thing considering he had to be on shift in a few hours. His head was full of thoughts, questions. Months back, he told Georgia he aimed to live in every moment with her—he’d hoped she would understand what he meant, but it didn’t seem as if she did.

  To this day, he couldn’t get her to talk about any tomorrow. He still had to ensure she should be with him when Grace crossed milestones, her birthday, and holidays.

  No past, no future—the pair of them only spoke and lived in the moment.

  The idea should free him, but it didn’t. Their pasts were haunting ghosts, which would not set them free.

  It was her past that was keeping him awake tonight. Some guy named James who ran a label wanted her to meet him at a venue tonight. Easton knew he wanted more, for her to work for him—he wanted to give her a life and career, some in her field would kill for.

  Georgia told Easton a million times over, he was a friend who’d helped her get started. She said she didn’t want the life he painted anymore. At the same time, meeting him and working through a photo shoot was something she needed to do, it was good karma, good business.

  In Easton’s mind it was a temptation, one which had the power to take her from the sleepy dream they both shared in Willowhaven.

  “Maybe I can switch shifts,” he said when she rolled over like clockwork to wake him to go home to Grace.

  A sleepy smile emerged. “That will clash with the way next week is set up.” Next week was a golden week, meaning they were going to have three-day stretches together, sleepovers.

  “I don’t like that side of town.”

  Georgia was heading back to the same venue Sawyer had invested in.

  “I have mace, and Memphis taught me to kick ass if needed. Plus, the band I’m shooting plays early so most of what I have to do is during the day,” she said, moving her hand across his chest.

  She was trying to distract him, to make him think about anything but this night he had been brooding about, and he was going to let her, or at least let her know how much he was going to miss her.

  He rolled her to her back, pinned her arms above her head, and rapidly began to push her to the ledge he wanted her to fall over.

  Hours later, he wasn’t feeling much better about the deal when Georgia walked up to the fire hall to borrow Memphis’s truck. She was dressed to kill. Fishnet stockings, a tight skirt, boots with heels, and a flowing top that clung to her body, a body he wanted under his at that moment.

  He threw a few glares at the guys when he saw their eyes pop out and heard the near silent whistles. Memphis was talking to her by his truck, surely giving her the big brother speech. He had permission to do that; he could be an ass and not worry that she’d vanish because he was her brother.

  When Easton walked up, Memphis pointed his finger at Georgia, playfully narrowed his eyes, then walked away.

  “So protective of his beast,” she said, nodding to the truck. Easton knew that wasn’t it, but he nodded anyway as his heated gaze drifted down her.

  “Those stockings are going to be the death of me,” he said, drawing her a little closer.

  “I’d have to say the same about this uniform,” she said, pulling him to her, even though it was not his full gear, only a fire shirt and paramedic pants.

  He didn’t care who was watching; he kissed her like they were all alone, well, except for the part where he liked to wrap her legs around him and carry her to the first surface he could find.

  “Call me when you get there,” he said when he helped her in the truck. She checked her bag to make sure she had all that she needed, then gave him one more kiss, not failing to see the brooding in his eyes or feel the tension coming from him.

  She pulled away, letting her hair fall over her face so he wouldn’t see her secret smile.

  ***

  It was a ridiculously slow shift. Not that Memphis wanted bad things to happen, but even a few false calls sure as hell would have given him and the guys something better to do than watch Easton brood. Every once in a while, he’d smile when he looked at his phone, but for the most part he was tense, looked downright murderous.

  Right now, Wyatt had managed to get Easton to laugh about something, so Easton didn’t even look at his phone as he answered it. All at once, his expression turned cold and everyone in the fire hall came to attention.

  “You fucking whore!” he bellowed into his phone as he stood up so fast his chair slammed against the wall behind him.

  The cussing didn’t halt as he went outside and paced ferociously back and forth, only listening for a second or two before he laid into it again.

  Memphis couldn’t hear it all, but if any part of it, one word, was directed at his sister it was not going to be good—not at all. Everyone was moving into place, prepared to stand between Easton and Memphis. No one had seen Easton act like that in years, and watching his fury bubble up might as well have been an alarm belting through the hall. The adrenaline level was about the same.

  Easton punched the air as he hung up the phone and let out a bellow; he was red, rigid.

  “What the hell?” Memphis asked him when he came to the edge of the garage.

  “She is a white trash whore that doesn’t deserve to take in air. All she cares about is her damn self and whoever she can destroy on her way out. I can’t even fucking think right now,” Easton yelled, pushing his hand through his hair.

  Memphis charged toward him, Wyatt put his hand on Memphis’s shoulder. “You know he’s talking about Trish.”

  Memphis nodded once, then stepped forward. “What’s going down, Easton?”

  Easton shot a vicious stare at Memphis. “She’s close. Say’s she’s going to sue me for rights, that she was traumatized and suffering from some kind of postpartum and that she wants to see her daughter.”

  You could feel the rage coming off of Memphis and Wyatt, mixing with Easton’s.

  They had been hunting this girl for months. Easton had been the bait for not only local law enforcement, but also federal.

  “Don’t be all crazy and shit—we gotta play it right.”

  Easton shook his head as a pissed smirk came to him. “That fed said to be real when I talked to her—the bitch just told me she was going to sue me for my daughter, calm and cool w
as not an option.”

  Memphis tilted his head in an agreeing nod. “What’s the plan?”

  “I guess I gotta talk to these people. She wants to meet up tomorrow. She wants to ‘discuss’ other options.”

  “Money?”

  “Ten grand and she’ll go away, or so she says.”

  “I’ll take you,” Memphis said with a nod to the chief who had overheard it all.

  Hours later, Easton had been told exactly what to say and do as everyone moved forward with the plan to finally trap Trish. With any luck at all, Grace would be a grown woman with her own family before Trish was released from prison. The thought gave Easton some relief, but he had to see it happen first. He knew Trish was too good at stirring trouble and bailing before anyone had the chance to follow through.

  “Take me back to the house and go up there,” Memphis told him when he saw Easton staring at his phone.

  One thing Easton and Georgia had in common was that they never vented, never spoke their turmoil into life. It would just boil to the surface without warning from time to time. Memphis knew if anyone could calm Easton down, it would be her.

  “Why? I can’t tell her anything,” Easton snapped.

  The ass in the suit had threatened to arrest Easton if he told anyone about this deal with Trish. The case was too big, branched out too far.

  “I told you when it’s all said and done and she knows why we didn’t tell her she’ll be fine.”

  “Georgia? Not the one I know. This could destroy us.”

  “It could be exactly what you both fucking need.”

  “One can only hope.”

  “Go up there, meet up with her, listen to a band or two. The fed said to act like you normally would. Don’t give Trish any reason to bolt.”

  “If I’m off, I’m going home to Grace.”

  “Why, so you can sit there and guard her? So you can think about all the shit that’s not going to happen? I know you wanted off tonight, so there you go. By the time you get there, the band will be taking the stage. Her work will be done, and you guys can have some adult time.”

  Easton didn’t think that was a good idea, was almost sure it wasn’t. But if he spun it the way Memphis told him, if he made it seem like they were going to have a spontaneous night and he wasn’t some overprotective boyfriend checking up on her, it could work.