by Evie Bennet
West Ridge would be our home. I wanted to belong there—by myself and with Reed.
As I wondered how proud Reed would be that I snuck dollar store candy in my purse, a man in leather approached my car. From the angle, I couldn’t tell if it was a Rattler jacket or regular outerwear. I was perched on the hood, the windshield supporting my back. Originally, being on my pride and joy made me feel open and friendly, but as the man got closer it made me apprehensive to be so out in the elements, especially because the man was gripping something on the back of his belt, his pink-rimmed eyes cautiously raking over me instead of the car.
No one would be stupid enough to bring a gun to the drive-in right? I was still safe.
It was kind of unusual that a town supposedly as safe as West Ridge hosted a motorcycle club–a gang, according to some. I shouldn’t romanticize the Rattlers just because I was in love with one of them.
Inhaling sharply, I tried to look absorbed in the movie, wondering if I should pretend to text someone. The man lingered in my line of vision, his hips swaying like he was used to having some kind of swagger. It wasn’t sexual. What was it? Confidence? It’d have to be, even if he did seem apprehensive to some extent. Out of instinct, I smiled.
He jerked his head. “Nice car you’ve got there.”
“Thank you.”
“Uh, what is that, a Dodge?”
Considering it was written on the grill, I was just going to assume he hadn’t noticed it. He probably wasn’t much of a car enthusiast or he would have known the specific make. “Yes. I restored it with my dad a couple of years ago.”
“Looks good. Must feel great to do something like that with your dad.”
“It was. It taught me a lot about patience and perseverance. Logic and some tender, loving care can fix almost anything.”
That probably wasn’t true but it was a nice thought anyway.
“Wish my dad had taught me some of that.” I smiled but didn’t offer anything else to the rugged man with hopeful eyes, not wanting to get too engaged with him. “I’m JR, by the way.”
JR Parker. John Reed Parker.
Heart thumping loud enough to make the movie dialogue a quiet buzz, I did a quick once-over of my boyfriend’s father. He wasn’t drunk yet, maybe one or two beers in for the night. Dark brown eyes seemed to protrude amidst a strong set of cheekbones. I wasn’t sure if the squared jawline was an illusion cast by his beard but Reed seemed a little softer in that sense. Still masculine, still strong, if not in control of his body. He had the same kind of broad shoulders and narrow hips as Reed.
Reed didn’t want us to meet.
“Betty,” I said quietly, trying to smother the panic rising in my chest fighting the glee that I finally got to meet him. Someone important to Reed. Someone who had known him forever, who lived with him the way I wanted to live with him.
Well, not exactly the way I wanted to live with him.
“The Betty?” He grinned, eyebrows raising. He knew. He knew when he walked over here. The bigger question was, how did he know what I looked like? Did Reed show my picture to people? Did he talk about me? What did he say? What should I say?
“I guess, and you must be Mr. Parker.” I started sliding off the hood to shake his hand, but he waved it off, surprisingly comfortable with closing the distance himself to prop an elbow on the top of my car. It seemed strange that he would lean against my car so casually, the same one Reed spanked me against in our ‘sobering’ experience. I doubted any paddling would help Mr. Parker.
“I’ve heard you’re the most honest mechanic in the state. I appreciate that.”
“Oh! Thanks.” I hesitated, almost complimenting him for raising such a wonderful son. Reed might not appreciate that, seeing as he probably had to raise himself. “The Rattlers have been really welcoming and wonderful customers. I appreciate that.”
“I bet. Some more welcoming than others?” The baiting way he raised his eyebrows made my insides twist. With a reluctant, flat laugh, I looked at my shoes.
What could I say?
I wanted baby stories. I wanted to know how Reed grew up, what he did when he was alone, if he talked about me and how he framed the future. I wanted to map out Reed’s soul and have him read mine.
But not everything was about Reed. I couldn’t rely on that information to make me happy.
Some inner strain of my brain tried to break free and insist that Reed could sustain me, but I had to focus on my balancing act with JR.
“Reed’s a pretty shy kid, so I’m not surprised he’d want to keep all this under wraps from his old man. I finally wrinkled it out of his friends when he was looking at his phone all the time and he uh… well, he wasn’t coming home at night.”
Not sure what to say, I turned to the screen. “I thought he would’ve told you.”
His neck cricked and I realized that he was chewing something. Reed ate, JR chewed. Maybe there was significance in that. A poem. “Me and Reed have a don’t ask, don’t tell kinda thing going on. But you seem cute. And nice. And smart, if the ability to put together an engine and get Reed’s general interest are any indication.”
Chuckling low in my throat, I scratched my ear with my shoulder. “Yeah, Reed is really intelligent. Caring, too.”
“Real sharp,” JR continued. I got the uncomfortable feeling that he was sizing me up. “Doesn’t know too much about girls, though.”
I had to refrain from scoffing. He knew plenty.
“I had to meet the girl who’s gonna break his heart.”
What? I could never break Reed’s heart.
He shrugged, a big, unapologetic grin on his face. “Just kidding. I, uh, I know a little bit about your arrangement, and whatever works for you, you know?”
“Arrangement? He’s my boyfriend. What is there to arrange?”
“Right. Right.” JR scratched the underside of his chin. “So, do you have a lot of ex-boyfriends? I’m sure a pretty girl like you who’s good with cars has had an ex or two to make her mistakes with.”
What the hell did that mean?
“No, I haven’t.”
“But some, right?” His concern was disarming and revolting.
“What are you asking, exactly? If I plan on making mistakes with Reed?”
“No, I just mean that love can make you do crazy things. God knows I did. In high school, hormones drove me to be a lot more reckless than Reed ever was. Maybe this is a late bloomer kinda thing. I fell in love with his mom when I was nineteen and we definitely went off the deep end more than once. Probably how we got Reed. Had a decent marriage, all things considering, but I’m not sure either of us would’ve done it the same way again.”
“But then you might not have had Reed,” I said, trying not to imagine a world without him in it. Having some of his family history laid out was helpful and discomforting. I didn’t even know if his mother was alive. Some girlfriend I was.
JR had the presence of mind to backtrack. “Very true. He’s a good kid, most of the time. Teaches me a lot.”
“He’s a good person.”
JR bit the inside of his cheek, glancing at the Rattlers and the screen. “Pretty sure I would’ve said the same about his mom before we started fighting. I just wanted to meet you and make sure your ex-boyfriends are alive with all their appendages and all that. You’ve never stabbed anybody or...”
Horrified, my whole face scrunched up in incredulity. “What exactly did Reed say about me?”
“Nothing! Nothing. Just that a girl, you, might be around sometimes, and to uh, leave his laptop alone if it looked like it was being messed with. Thought you were an imaginary friend for a while, but here you are.” He laughed, just a hint of nervousness shaking the foundation of the ground beneath them.
“Here I am,” I repeated.
He knew.
He absolutely fucking knew.
There was no reason to invite me into the trailer because Reed knew I’d already been in it. Maybe he knew about me lurking at Al’s. Or
the café. Or even Sidewinders, prior to the bartender sending him up to collect and remove me. Maybe he knew where I was right now. Probably did, if his dad was coming over and the Rattlers were all connected. Did they all know that I was obsessed with him? Was there a Betty Miller stalker alert? A neighborhood watch? Was that even surprising? Reed was so smart and compassionate, and he got me and...
“Hey, don’t be embarrassed. I think he likes it,” JR teased, nudging me with his elbow. I unclenched my aching fists. Little red and white lines glared up at me from the skin of my palms. “Wouldn’t spend so much time at your place if he didn’t, right?”
“Right.”
“Just keep in mind, if anything happens to him, he has a lot of friends around here. You understand?”
The shiny flash of his eyes reminded me of a rusty blade.
“I understand. Excuse me.”
Pushing myself off the hood of my car, I took off towards the bathrooms. Thankfully there was no line and I was able to shimmy into a stall, lock it and hyperventilate in peace.
It didn’t change anything. He loved me.
That didn’t stop the tears from falling, from shame sharpening the inside of my guts in fear.
I was a freak. I’d always be a freak, no matter where I went.
It didn’t matter if he liked my voyeuristic tendencies or that he made love to me.
I was fucked up. They were all waiting for me to snap and they would snap back.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I didn’t look at it.
The way I loved wasn’t easy. It was consuming but it was real and people thought I was crazy. They thought I needed to be punished, watched and tied up or that everyone should stay away from me. I never hurt anyone. Not even when I should have.
9
Worse
“Hey, you okay?” A girl around my age with short, spiky hair paused in her reapplication of lipstick. She was probably necking with her partner. Like a normal person.
“Yeah. Fine.” I sniffed, washing my hands and splashing some cold water on my neck.
“Boy trouble?”
“More like brain trouble, but a boy certainly isn’t helping matters.”
Did I just say that out loud? Was I advertising my madness?
The girl chuckled. “Trust me, I’ve been there.” Humming, rubbing her lips to smooth the balm, the girl tilted her head. “Do you want to sit with me and my boyfriend? Get some time away from your beau?”
Startled by the generosity of the offer, I backed away from the sink. “N-no. I wouldn’t want to impose.”
“It’s no trouble. Having you there will keep him from trying to put his hand up my bra during the good parts, plus you’ll be a good distraction for when he runs off with his old high school buddies. I swear, he has the attention span of a dog.”
“As long as he has the loyalty of one.” My cheeks fluttered in an attempt at a smile.
“Right?” She rolled her eyes good-naturedly, popping the lipstick back in her pocket. “Come on, ten minutes should help him sweat it out. My name’s Emily.”
“Betty.”
Feeling awkward, but weirdly excited at the possibility of making a new friend, I followed Emily to her car where a brunette All-American kinda guy with a square jaw perked up at our arrival. “Uh, hey. You make a new friend?”
“This is Betty. She’s gonna sit with us.”
“Okay.” He frowned, most likely realizing they could no longer make out during the rest of the movie, but at least he accepted my presence gracefully. “I didn’t know you could actually come back from the bathroom with a new friend.”
Emily stuck her nose in the air, teasing. “That’s because you’re not as personable as I am.”
He lit up in admiration when he laughed. Reed sort of did the same thing. His eyes would crinkle and—
I was supposed to be distracting myself.
Shoving my palms into my lap, I leaned forward to properly introduce myself. “Hi, I’m Betty. New in town. Local mechanic.”
“George. Want a Milk Dud?”
Emily and George seemed like simple, sincere, open people, and I was glad I was sitting with them. It was relaxing, the mindless movie banter. No Reed to obsess over.
Although he was out there. Somewhere.
I finally checked the phone in my pocket, knowing that only one person reached out to me on a personal level since moving to West Ridge.
The text read, ‘What are you doing tonight, babe?’
‘Movie,’ was all I responded, wondering if he expected me to find him in our little game. It was painful to entertain the idea of tracking him down again, hanging around like some giant desperate loser for his dad and the Rattlers to roll their eyes at.
At least he never made me help him with his Trig homework.
When George got up to say hello to some friends, Emily rolled her eyes and climbed into the back with me to chat about the show and other guests. Emily insisted we had to share selfies with an unaffected, almost pixie-girl attitude that was just nice.
Eventually, the credits rolled, Emily playfully kissing George’s cheek. “Hey, Betty, you need a ride home?”
“No, I should be fine.”
“Okay, just shoot me a call or a text if you do. See ya!”
“Thanks.”
Something akin to a lump staggered in my throat. At least two people in West Ridge didn’t know that I was a total freak.
I sighed, pushing my hands into my pockets so I didn’t do something I would regret. Maybe I should talk to Reed. Just... get it out of the way.
And if he told everyone?
I’d have to leave. I had to.
Gutted, I started the car and pulled into my hiding spot near the only place I could really imagine finding him at that hour, Sidewinders.
‘I need to talk to you,’ I texted him.
There wasn’t an immediate response.
Waiting was normally fine. It was normal.
But I wasn’t. Everyone knew that now. At least, the Rattlers probably did.
By the time my phone vibrated against my palm, I was out of the car, my heartbeat so loud it buzzed louder than the notification.
‘Ok. That sounds ominous. Did you want to talk tomorrow, or do you need me tonight?’
I gripped the phone in my palm, triggering the screen on and off.
Was he mocking me for needing him? No, wanting him?
Frustrated, I pushed forward into the smog of cigarettes, beer-coated wood and leather. It wasn’t like I kicked the door open, but a few people did look up to take in my relatively inappropriate outfit for a biker bar. I didn’t see Reed right away, but I did spot Milo hovering by the end of the bar, anxiously twiddling with his earring and watching a pool game. Before I really looked or asked for Reed, I wanted to talk to his friend.
Wow. I was putting someone before Reed. Things were bad.
Sometimes, they had to be.
“Milo.” His chin jerked up, face contracting in surprise. “Can I talk to you?”
“Uh, sure…” A few Rattlers looked over their shoulders at us. If they thought I was crazy, what did it matter if they assumed I was being bossy or direct with Milo?
I was brave. I was strong. I was more than a stalker and I could handle this.
Idling to a semi-secluded hallway, I angled myself so I was hidden in the shadows like it was second nature. I focused my earnest, big-eyed pleading on Milo. “Would you be honest with me? Like, really honest?”
“Y-yeah. I think so.” Milo faltered enough to show me that there are things within the Rattlers that are better kept secrets, things he’d lie about if pressed. But would Reed? Probably.
Shit, I cursed to myself, wondering how stupid I could be to trust somebody with my heart and body again.
“What has Reed told you about me? About us?”
He looked away.
He fucking looked away. That had to mean he felt guilty in some way and I doubted it was just because he knew Reed and I were s
leeping together.
“Just tell me. Please. Is there a rumor or…?”
“Look, I don’t know. Chewy and I stole his phone because he kept reading sappy poetry on our runs. We gave him a hard time about being whipped for words, but then I remembered kinda overhearing you two talking about writing. I mean, I saw you two leave Sidewinders together, so I assumed something was happening, but Reed doesn’t talk much about that stuff.”
They must have seen my blog, then. They probably didn’t read it regularly like Reed did, but they knew me more intimately than I felt comfortable with.
Swallowing more panic, I tried to focus. “Did JR say anything? Or the other Rattlers?”
Milo shrugged, clearly uncomfortable lying straight to my face. “I don’t know if anybody else really knows. I haven’t said anything about you, other than you seem cool and cute, which Reed would still probably slug me for. We don’t talk about you, really.” The way he said it implied that they probably didn’t do it much, and certainly rarely in front of Reed. “We tease Reed and maybe worry about him a little since this is his first, uh, relationship and stuff, but I try not to get involved.”
Seriously? That was all he had to say?
“Sorry I couldn’t be more helpful, Betty. You want me to get Reed for you? He’s, uh, organizing something with Chewy.”
“What is he organizing?” A birthday party? Milo just offered that awkward half-shrug again. “Forget it. I’ll talk to him myself. Please don’t mention this to anybody, okay? If they ask, it’s about borrowing your truck.”
“Sure thing, Betty. And if you ever do need the truck, just let me know.”
We slunk out the back hall, our attention drawn to the far end of the bar. My judge, my love sat with his court, glancing at his phone as a guy with long hair and a beard rattled something off to the group.
I couldn’t talk to him here, not in front of his whole crew. Then I really would look crazy.
Fumbling with my vibrating phone, I headed out the door. There was a follow-up message from him.
‘Seriously, Betts, you okay?’
I half-trotted to where my car was hidden, trying to breathe. I needed to respond to him but I was struggling responding to this.
