Still Standing

by Kristen Ashley

  “Tatie,” Buck said softly.

  “Fuck you!” she shrieked.

  Buck’s body went solid, and Gear was on the move toward his sister.

  “Aiy, Dios mio,” Mrs. Jimenez whispered.

  “Tat, stay cool,” Gear urged, putting a hand on her arm.

  But she shook it free and jumped back again, her eyes coming to me.

  “And fuck you! Fuck you, Clara! Fuck you, fuck you, fuck…you!”

  Then she raced into the house, Buck and Gear following her.

  I licked my lips, pulled them between my teeth and bit them.

  I then looked down at Mrs. Jimenez, who still had a hand on my arm, and let my lips go to say, “As you know, Tatiana isn’t my biggest fan yet.”

  Yes, I’d shared about Tatie.

  We talked every day, but also, I did it to prepare her for what she might face if Tatiana wasn’t in the mood to be cool that night.

  “This I can see,” Mrs. Jimenez muttered, her eyes going to the house in time to see Tatiana racing out again.

  “Tat! Jesus!” Gear raced after her. “Give me my fuckin’ keys!”

  My body jolted.

  So did Mrs. Jimenez’s.

  Oh no!

  Buck came out last.

  “Tatiana, swear to Christ, you get behind the wheel of your brother’s car pissed—” Buck started.

  But he didn’t finish because Tatiana got behind the wheel of her brother’s car pissed. She locked the door. Gear banged on the roof, shouting expletives, but she fired up the engine, and with gravel spewing from the back tires, she sped down the drive.

  “Take the Charger,” Buck gritted. Reaching into his jeans’ pocket, he pulled out some keys and tossed them to Gear, who caught them. “Track her, calm her ass down and bring her back. You leave one of the cars. She’s not drivin’. We’ll go pick it up wherever you leave it tomorrow.”

  “She fucks up my car, I’ll break her fuckin’ neck,” Gear threatened, stalking to the turquoise car.

  “Cool it. Track her, get her ass home,” Buck returned.

  Gear nodded, folded into the Charger and took off.

  Mrs. Jimenez and I stared after Gear.

  Then, in unison, our heads swung to Buck.

  “Enchiladas are off,” he bit out.

  “Sí,” Mrs. Jimenez agreed, and she didn’t shrink back like I did when Buck prowled to us.

  He pulled his wallet out, flipped it open, yanked out some bills, lifted my hand using my wrist and slapped them in my palm.

  “Take her out to eat, take her home,” he ordered, replacing his wallet but slapping the keyfob to the SUV on the money in my palm then curling my fingers around it all.

  “What…?” I swallowed. “What are you going to do?”

  “Have a fuckin’ beer, a shot of tequila, and keep on havin’ ’em so I won’t hop on my bike, hunt down my daughter and rip her a new asshole,” Buck snarled.

  Oh dear.

  Though, I figured the translation of that was: I’m going to stay home so I’ll be here when my daughter gets back so we can talk this out, Biker Dad and Biker Babe Daughter style. In the meantime, just be home should the police call or come around because my daughter was arrested for excessive speeding, or erratic driving, or something worse happening.

  My stomach clutched at that last thought.

  “That sounds like a good plan,” I whispered, thinking it did for Buck, but when she got home (hopefully safe), it wouldn’t be fun for Tatie.

  Buck scowled at me, his scowl sliced through Mrs. Jimenez, he pulled it together enough to dip his chin at her and say, “I apologize for my daughter. We’re havin’ some issues. Have a nice meal with Clara.” And with that, he stalked into the house.

  I took in a deep breath and looked down at Mrs. Jimenez.

  “It isn’t always like this,” I assured her.

  I’d told her about Tatiana and how she felt about me.

  I hadn’t shared as much about Buck.

  Well, not the uncertain stuff, just the good stuff.

  “It’s usually a lot lower-key,” I concluded lamely.

  Mrs. Jimenez shrugged, gave my arm a squeeze and said back, “Family. The more love there is, the more friction there can be. I know. My family has a lotta love. My husband Pablo, he frowned on bad language, but I have three sons and one daughter. They fought since they came out of the womb, with each other, Pablo and me. That’s how families are.” She patted my arm just above her hand and finished, “You’ll learn this, cariña.”

  I was learning a lot of things this day, but it had to be said, they were a lot of things I didn’t really want to learn.

  Just a typical day for Clara Delaney.

  “Let’s go eat,” I suggested.

  Mrs. Jimenez nodded, and I helped her back to the SUV. Then I helped her into it.

  After that, I rounded the hood, and it took everything I had, but I didn’t look at the house.

  We went out to eat.

  I turned in bed so I was on my back, and my gaze hit the dark ceiling.

  Buck was with me, but he wasn’t touching me.

  This, I thought, was good.

  I thought this because, even though I had been gone a long time, Buck was in no better mood when I got back.

  I had dinner with Mrs. Jimenez at The Outlook (Buck gave me a lot of money, so I decided to treat Mrs. Jimenez with it, and even though we didn’t have a reservation, which was usually necessary at posh restaurants like The Outlook, we only had to wait half an hour for a table. Bonus, even posh, The Outlook was in Arizona, so jeans were appropriate attire, though I was glad I had on fancy shoes, and I suspected Mrs. Jimenez was glad she dressed up to meet Buck and his family).

  We enjoyed that dinner, though my mind was on other things.

  She, with her keen Mother and Grandmother Senses, discerned that.

  We started talking about it (some of it, I didn’t share about my Biker Babe Lessons, any of them).

  She didn’t make me feel much better, but she did try, and best of all, she listened and that always felt nice.

  I took her home and then went back to Buck’s.

  When I arrived at Buck’s, the Charger was in the drive, the Nova was not, Gear was brooding in front of the TV, and Buck, surrounded by a plethora of empty beer bottles and a near-empty tequila bottle, was brooding on the deck.

  Gear greeted me.

  Buck, as I walked to the front door, didn’t bother.

  And I decided I should leave him to his thoughts because they didn’t appear pleasant and I didn’t want an unpleasant mood turned on me. I’d learned with Buck unpleasant meant worried, and worried meant angry.

  I did not fall asleep with my head on Buck’s thigh.

  I watched TV with a silent Gear.

  Silent, that was, after he told me what I’d already guessed.

  He hadn’t found Tatiana.

  He also shared that she “did this.”

  As in, took off when she got angry and didn’t come back until she’d burned it out.

  She’d done it when she was a kid. She’d run away. And she did it now that she wasn’t so much of a kid and unfortunately had access and legal privileges to take off in a car.

  Lastly, Gear shared that Buck wasn’t a big fan of Tatiana’s “scenes.”

  I gathered that myself.

  What Gear didn’t share, but what I also gathered, was that he didn’t like them much more. Especially when she did them in his beloved car.

  When I started to nod off, I went to bed alone.

  Buck woke me when he stretched out beside me. Without a functioning alarm clock, I couldn’t know what time it was, though I sensed it was very late.

  I did know he didn’t turn into me. He didn’t turn me into him, and he didn’t fall asleep for a while.

  I didn’t know if he knew he’d woken me.

  I did know, if he knew, he didn’t care, had nothing to say or was simply too angry to speak.

  I eventually heard h
is breaths even out, but my thoughts didn’t even out. So for the first time since being at Buck’s house, my mind didn’t allow me to get good sleep.

  Truth be told, I was worried about Tatiana.

  I mean, I was a newbie to her scenes, but it was late.

  Where was she?

  And…

  The last time she’d gone out in order to act out, she’d come home smashed.

  And the thought of her smashed, in a car, made my stomach ache.

  Badly.

  Which was why I was staring at the ceiling.

  And it was also why I heard it.

  My body got tight as I listened.

  Barely a sound, but somehow, I could tell it was someone in the house trying to be quiet.

  Then I heard the low hum of the pipes, meaning the water was running in Tatiana’s bathroom.

  Needing to see if it was her, and not Gear down from the loft to use the bathroom, I slid carefully out of bed and headed to the door.

  I did this being sure not to wake Buck. I was worried, if it was Tatie, and she was drunk, she’d driven Gear’s car drunk, and Buck and Gear were already angry enough at her. If she did something that stupid, they’d lose their minds.

  So I wanted to get to her first.

  Okay, this was so I could make an effort to cover for her. And maybe that wasn’t the right choice for her, her father, or her brother.

  It also wasn’t a way for me to ingratiate myself to her.

  I just felt for her.

  I had not been in a place where I felt safe to act out as a teen.

  But I remembered how confusing and stressful it was to be a girl at sixteen. Things happened with your body and boys and peers and mood swings you didn’t get were because your hormones were controlling your life. There was also pressure to start thinking about your future.

  Add in a mom who doesn’t treat you all that well, a stepdad you don’t like, a dad you loved who lived too far away, and a new woman in your beloved father’s life…

  Times were tough for Tatiana Hardy.

  So yes.

  I felt for her.

  She needed an ally, and even if she didn’t want that to be me, she was going to get it.

  When I got to the hall, I saw the bathroom door was closed, but a light was coming from under it.

  Quietly, I knocked, and just as quietly, I whispered, “Tatiana, it’s Clara. You don’t have to talk with me or open the door. Just let me know you’re okay. Are you okay?”

  There was nothing except the water running.

  “Tatiana,” I called softly, “just tell me if you’re okay.”

  More nothing except water.

  I slowly twisted the knob and just as slowly opened the door, poking my head around.

  Then my body froze.

  Stock-still.

  And my heart shattered into little pieces.

  I saw her in the mirror, her back to me. Her lip was already fat, her cheekbone red and swollen, blood was dripping from her nose, and looking down, I saw her T-shirt was torn so badly I could see her bra. She had a jeans skirt on, it was mini, just not micro-mini, and the seat of it was filthy, pine needles still clinging to the material like they’d been ground in, the same with the back of her T-shirt.

  Like she’d been lying in dirt.

  No, like she’d been wrestling in dirt.

  The pieces of my heart flew back together in order to start pumping blood so madly, I could feel the muscle move just as I felt the blood sing through my veins.

  I slid in, closed the door behind me, my eyes never leaving hers in the mirror.

  Then I whispered, “Tatie, talk to me.”

  And I watched, my throat closing, as she dissolved.

  Dissolved.

  Her face into tears and her body started folding to the floor.

  I caught her halfway down and went down with her. I sat on my behind, and she burrowed in, a sixteen-year-old girl pushing into my lap, her arms coming around me, her body pressing close, her face shoved into my neck, her frame wracked with sobs.

  Oh God, no.

  No.

  I dropped my head and whispered in her ear, “Tatie, baby, who hurt you?”

  She just held on tighter and cried harder.

  I held tighter too, with one arm, and used my other hand to stroke her hair.

  It had dirt in it too.

  And it was matted.

  Badly.

  No.

  “Honey, who hurt you?”

  She shook her head violently and kept holding on.

  “How badly are you hurt, baby?” I asked. “Do we need to get you to the hospital?”

  “I need a shower,” she whispered.

  “Okay, I get that, but you have to talk to me first. What happened? Who hurt you? How did they hurt you?”

  “I need a shower,” she repeated.

  “Baby, listen to me, you need to talk to me right now. Tell me what happened.”

  “I need a shower.”

  I stopped stroking her hair and put my hand under her chin. Pulling away a smidge, I lifted her face so I could see her.

  “Honey, please. Tell me what happened.”

  “I don’t have any underwear on,” she whispered.

  I closed my eyes briefly as those words cut through me like a blade, opening me up, bleeding.

  I reopened my eyes.

  “Did you leave that way?”

  She stared at me.

  Then she said so low I could barely hear her, “No.”

  Oh God, no.

  Please, God, no.

  “Did someone touch you like you didn’t want?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “No,” she went on. “Yes, but they didn’t…they…” She shook her head. “I got away.”

  “So you haven’t been raped?”

  Her face crumpled, and I wrapped my hand around the back of her head and pushed it in my neck, my heart pumping again, the blood singing, thick and hot.

  “No, but they…hurt me,” she said softly.

  I held her tighter.

  “I have to tell your father.”

  Her body jerked and she pulled away. “No!”

  “Tatie, honey, listen to me.” I framed her face with my hands. “I have to tell your dad.”

  “No! He’ll be mad at me.”

  Her voice was rising, and I pulled her face closer to mine.

  “Honey, listen, shh, just listen, okay? Okay?” She nodded so I went on, “He has to know. We have to call the police. We need to get you to the hospital.”

  She shook her head in my hands fervently.

  “Listen to me.” I held her tighter, trying to do it gently. “They aren’t allowed to touch you like you don’t want. Baby, they’re not. Something has to be done.”

  “No,” she whispered.

  “Tatie—”

  The door opened.

  “Fuck me, this again? My girl drove fuckin’ drunk?” Buck growled, and both Tatiana and I looked up at him.

  Tatiana’s body froze against mine but mine froze right along with hers.

  This was because Buck was staring at his daughter, and I knew, looking at him, that I’d never seen the snake.

  Now, I was seeing the snake.

  “Gear!” he roared and disappeared from the doorway.

  Oh no!

  I forced Tatiana to face me. “Hang tight for me, sweetie. Okay? Hang tight. I’ll be right back.”

  Then I let her go, got up and raced from the room.

  “Locke! Get your ass down here!” Buck thundered from the foot of the stairs, so I headed to him.

  I dashed around him when he started stalking back to his bedroom.

  I put my hands to his chest and pushed, but he kept moving, forcing me backwards, his face tight, his muscles under my hands like steel.

  He didn’t look at me, just kept moving.

  “Buck, honey, listen to me. We have to call the police,” I told him.

  “Fuck that,” he snarled.


  I pushed harder at him, trying and failing to plant my feet.

  “Buck, we need to take her to the hospital. We need to take care of Tatie.”

  “Get your hands off me, babe.”

  “Buck! Please! We have to—”

  I didn’t finish.

  He stopped, wrapped his hands around my upper arms, picked me up and threw me aside.

  I hit the wall of the hall with such force, the blow to my shoulder caused pain to radiate out, up and down.

  Everywhere.

  It hurt so much and was such a shock, I stood there, leaning against the wall, my other hand to it for added support as I stared after Buck, who didn’t break another stride and disappeared into his room.

  I blinked my shock away and this took a while.

  So long, Buck was out of the room wearing a long-sleeved T-shirt over the jeans he already had on as well as socks. He was carrying his boots. Gear was down the stairs and standing in the hall in his cutoff sweats.

  “Dressed. Now,” Buck barked.

  Gear stared at him half a beat, then raced back up the stairs.

  Buck stopped in the door to the bathroom.

  “Who?” He continued to bark.

  “Dad—” Tatiana whimpered.

  Buck leaned forward and bellowed, “Who?”

  “Those guys who go to ASU,” she whispered.

  “Gear know ’em?” Buck asked.

  “Yes, but, Dad—”

  Buck moved from the doorway, came to me, lifted a finger to point it in my face and his body followed so his face was behind his hand and his furious eyes were locked on mine.

  “You call the cops, Toots, I break your fuckin’ neck.”

  I stared at the space he used to be in, but he was gone, disappeared right before my eyes.

  It wasn’t five minutes before I heard the roar of a Harley and I looked out the front windows to watch Buck, followed by Gear in his Nova, tearing down the drive.

  I pulled in a deep breath.

  Then I pulled in another one.

  After letting go of the third, I hurried to the bathroom.

  I jerked awake when Tatiana was gently pulled out of my arms.

  It was light, just dawn, and I shifted to see Buck settling his daughter against his big frame. He was on top of the covers. He still had his boots on. There was blood on his shirt and on his hands, especially around the knuckles.

  I knew what that meant.

  Earlier, after I soothingly talked her into letting me take pictures of her with my phone, I’d cleaned up Tatiana and got ice for her eye and her lip. I held her as she held the ice to her face and slowly, stiltedly told me about the three boys who attacked her.