by Jordan Marie
“You’re such an ass,” Dani complains following him.
“You love my ass.”
“You think all women love your ass. Later, Carrot!” She calls over her shoulder. Lips gives me a hug and follows her.
Nicole stops at the door and turns around and hugs me tight.
“If you want him, you’re going to have to throw caution to the wind and go after him,” she whispers in my ear. She pulls away slightly, each of her hands holding my arms and looks into my eyes. “He’s broken baby, but if your heart is set on him then try to reach him. Take it from me, if it works out it will all be worth it.”
I give her a weak smile because while I know what she is saying, I really think it’s hopeless. She smiles back, pats my arm and walks out the door with Six following behind her. I stand there staring as Bull closes the door, feeling lost in the quiet. At the club something is always going on or happening. The quiet just makes me feel more alone.
“You hungry?”
“I’ll fix us something.”
“I’ll cook,” I say, turning away from him.
“I said I will,” he grumbles.
“Okay then. I’ll just go take a shower I guess.”
“Okay, Red.”
5
Dancer
I do not want to be here. I’m standing outside of the club’s safe house in Manchester. It’s a small four-room house on a side street off the main town. You wouldn’t know it was there unless you were looking for it. Yet, it is close enough to the main drag that too much shit would bring down the cops. That way even if rival clubs finds it, we still have an advantage.
What am I doing here? Fuck that is another question all together. I left the club with the intention of getting drunk, getting laid and forgetting Carrie was even around. What I did instead was call Mary. I hadn’t talked to her since the day they pulled her away from me at the Courthouse. I made it known I did not want her visiting me at the prison. It was a fucked up thing not to check on her when I got out. I know that, but I just cannot deal with people. I spent the night feeling guilt at the pain I heard in Mary’s voice and drinking myself into a stupor with a bottle of vodka. I woke up a couple hours later, just like always—covered in sweat, my heart pounding out of my chest and screaming.
I rub my forehead with the palm of my hand and fight the memories that are always there demanding to come to the forefront. Fuck, I may never be ready to deal with people again.
I know I can’t deal with the party going on at the club tonight. That is going to piss Dragon off, but the way I figure it, he might as well get used to the feeling when it comes to me. I pull my hand down and stare. It trembles and shakes, mocking me. What the fuck has happened to me? What happened to the man who walked in the world with a one finger salute, not giving a fuck? What happened to the man who went to war and faced anything without fear? I’m a coward. I can’t even live with myself. I haven’t got my revenge yet, because I can’t bring up the courage to even see the ones I would have to face. I haven’t even helped the club exact revenge against a man who is only fucking with them because of me. I am a waste of breath and I know I’ve said it a million times over, but I’m so tired. So fucking tired that deep down inside it feels as if I am literally drowning. It takes all the energy I can muster to get out of bed every day. What the fuck does that make me? I am rotting from the inside out.
I take an unsteady breath and walk up to the door. I close my eyes and bite my tongue to let the pain focus me. I’m a pansy-ass-sorry-mother-fucker. I knock once…twice…then bring my hand back and push them both into my jean’s pockets. I don’t want Bull to see them shake. Fuck, I don’t want to see them shake.
Bull opens the door, the gold studs in his ears shining under the glare of the porch light.
“Dance,” his voice is dark and even more pissed off than normal. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know why. Sorry, Fucker, you’re not going to get pussy tonight—at least not from Carrie.
“You going to let me in?”
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Come to relieve you.”
“Hell no.”
“Just fact man, Drag needs his enforcer at the club tonight with the Atlanta Chapter in. He doesn’t want Carrie to be alone. So, I am here,” I say, lying through my damned teeth.
I’m not even sure why I’m here. Yes, I am avoiding the party, but I could have done that from my room at the hotel. Something inside of me is pushing me towards Carrie. Maybe it is because of all the shit she has gone through; maybe it is the anger I have towards her. Maybe I’ve drunk so much that my brain cells have completely left me. I did not the-fuck-know. All I do know? I am standing here in front of this damn safe house at seven o’clock at night, lying to my brother and planning on spending the night with a woman I…shit, it’s a woman I want—I’ve always wanted. It’s also a woman I blame, whether she deserves it or not.
“I’ll call and have him send Six out.”
“Six is working the bar tonight with Lips. Just get going man, I think I can babysit for one damned night.”
“And give you the chance to spew more of your poison at Red? I don’t think so brother.”
“Oh for Christ’s sake, I won’t bother the bitch. I’m going to lock the doors, grab a bite to eat and sleep. I won’t say two damn words to her. Now quit being a prick and let me in.”
He backs up to give me room to get in. I walk by him and scan the combined living and kitchen area. It’s separated by a small half wall and then open where the table and chairs are. Carrie is sitting there and her face goes pale and white when she sees me. I know it makes me a sadistic fuck, but I can’t help but enjoy seeing how uncomfortable I make her.
“Looks like I missed dinner,” I say my eyes locking on Carrie’s. She holds my look for about half a beat and then looks back down. Why does that make me feel like I’ve won something? I could almost smile.
Bull grunts. “I’ll call Nailer.”
He takes out his phone and it pisses me off. Obviously I’m twisted up even more than I realized.
“Knock it off, Bull. I’m not going to say shit to her. Go back up our boy.”
“Red? You gonna be okay?” Bull asks ignoring me.
This fucker is obviously pussy-whipped. Maybe it’s the younger pussy?
“I’m fine, Bull. I’m getting ready to go to bed anyway,” she says. Her voice has always been quieter than others. Almost meek and soothing, it’s like a lullaby. I used to love to listen to her and Jazz chatter for hours. The memory of that rings clear before I lock it down.
“I still think I should call Drag first,” Bull obstinately continues.
For a second my chest gets a punch of adrenaline. If Bull does that he’ll know I’m lying my ass off and Carrie will know it too. I don’t even know why the hell I’m doing it myself, I’m not ready to try and explain it to anyone else.
“Bull, please? I don’t’ want to make a scene and tonight is important to Dragon. Just go, I’ll be fine. Jacob… He won’t hurt me.”
“Red? You call me if you need me for anything.”
“I’ll be fine,” she says with a smile, while Bull puts on his cut. I can see the fear in her eyes. It’s fucked up, but I like it. It’s like my body has come alive, as if I’m a hunter and oh yeah, I’m definitely smelling blood now.
Bull turns to me as he opens the door.
“Motherfucker, one wrong move and I’ll make you sorry you were ever born,” he growls.
I thought about telling him he’s about thirty-five years too late. At the very least, he’s a little over two years too late. I don’t though. I shrug and watch as he slams the door behind him.
I wait the space of a heartbeat and then turn my attention to Carrie. Her big green eyes are caught in mine and her skin is definitely lily white now.
“Having fun playing house with the bad boy biker, Princess?”
She closes her eyes and looks down at her lap. My eyes follow and I see s
he’s wringing her hands tight. My lips jerk a little, not quite a smile but definitely a hint of one.
“I don’t remember you being so timid around me before, Princess,” I say, lounging against the door now, my arms crossed at my chest.
“You didn’t hate me in the past. I’m going to go take a bath and call it a night. Sorry you got stuck with me,” she says, without bothering to look up. She gets up from the table, still looking at the ground.
“I don’t hate you Carrie, not most of the time. You shouldn’t have been there that night,” I confess, a dose of honesty pushing its way through my lips.
“I know. If I could take it back, I would, Jacob.”
“All of it?” I ask before I can stop myself.
“Would it matter?” She asks instead of answering and the anger that is coiled tight in my stomach heats.
I resent her not giving me an answer. I want to know what exactly she would change. Why? Fuck if I know. I want to know if she still has those feelings though, if what Dragon says is true. I want her to admit it.
I should let her go. It’d be better for both of us. I don’t.
“I’m hungry. What’s for dinner?” I ask, wondering if she’ll tell me to get it myself.
“I made a casserole,” she says finally looking up at me. Were her green eyes always so deep in color?
“Sounds good. You got beer too?” I ask, walking over to the table and sitting down. It’s a dick move and I think I see a flare of irritation in her eyes, but she doesn’t tell me to go fuck myself. I almost find it disappointing. She takes a few minutes and brings me a plate and a beer.
She starts to walk out of the room when I stop her.
“Always did hate eating alone.”
“Jacob, we both know you don’t want me anywhere around you,” she answers. She doesn’t sit down, but she doesn’t immediately leave the room either.
I take a bite of the casserole. Chicken. It’s pretty good actually.
“Where’d you learn to cook?”
“I’ve always cooked, my mother taught me how,” she responds, and the blush on her face is kind of cute, even if I am getting ready to be a dick to her.
“Why bother when you had chefs to do that shit?”
“We never had chefs, Jacob. We never had any servants.”
“Who was Velma?”
She looks confused for a minute.
“She is family.”
“Did your parents pay her?” I question, knowing the answer.
“Well yes, of course…”
“Then she was a servant.”
Her face goes pale white as she looks at me.
“You really are a horse’s ass,” she says and then turns and walks out of the room.
I grin because I got to her. It almost feels like a victory. I ignore the emptiness that invades the room when she leaves.
6
Carrie
It takes me a good hour to calm down after leaving Jacob. I hate that I let him get to me. I knew from the minute he acted like he wanted me around, what his game was. I wish I could be more like Nicole. She’d kick Jacob in the balls or something. I jump in the shower and decide to just go to bed. It is early, but sleep sounds better than taking more of Jacob’s abuse.
I slip on a long t-shirt that Bull gave me to sleep in. It’s soft and worn and lands at my knees. It has short sleeves and is half way to my elbows. Did I mention Bull towers over me?
I prefer my pajamas, but I accidentally left them at the club. I crawl under the covers with a sigh. Maybe I could move to Georgia, my friend Tammie lives there. Surely whoever it is that is after me won’t follow me down there? That’s the last thought I have before I’m out for the night.
I awake with a jerk. I can’t tell how long I’ve been sleeping, but now the room is dark and the house is silent. At first I’m confused. I’m not sure what woke me. I yawn, thinking it was nothing and close my eyes. Then I hear it again. Yelling.
I worry that I’ve been discovered. Did I get Jacob in trouble? Oh god, I can’t have him get hurt in any way because of me. I’ve already been responsible for robbing him of two years of his life.
“NO!!!!”
I hear again and there is so much pain in Jacob’s voice. It feels like something grabs my heart and chokes it. I wipe the sleep out of my eyes and jump up out of the bed. I use my hand on the mattress to guide me as my eyes become adjusted to the darkness. I walk blindly, feel the wall with my hand, and find the light switch. I turn it on but leave the light behind, just thankful it illuminates enough so I can follow the sound of Jacob’s moans.
“Oh god, get away from me! I don’t want this! I’ll kill all you fuckers! Every fucking one of you!”
I freeze as he says the words. The words register and they paint a scene, I might not see clearly, but it’s clear enough that my brain rejects it.
“No!” The wounded sound comes out and it’s so full of misery of pain.
No…just oh god, no. His words are beginning to paint a picture, and I don’t want to see it. I come out of my trance and rush to get to him, hoping I can somehow stop him from saying more. I don’t want to know. That’s selfish, but he wouldn’t want me to know. I’m the last person he would talk to.
I find him in the room Bull has been using. There’s an old floor model television sitting catty-cornered, which offers pale, flickering light. Jacob is sitting in a chair and the darkness feels…ominous. The TV screen casts a dim light in the room, hiding Jacob in the darkness. All that is visible is his form. His shape absorbs just enough light to look eerie. It sends chills running up my back. The TV has been muted so the only sound in the room is the low, aching moan of misery that comes from Jacob intermittently.
I lick my lips nervously, my throat feeling closed off. I’m not sure I’m equipped to deal with this. He’s sleeping, but obviously in the thrall of a nightmare. I realize it’s more than that, but I can’t deal with the implications right now. Now I must concentrate on helping, somehow. Would Jacob know who I was if I wake him? Would he wonder why I came into the room?
The television switches scenes and the brightness infiltrates harshly in the room. That’s when I see it—the gun in Jacob’s hand. My heart stops, my blood runs cold. Then, it jumps back to life, pounding so hard it hurts to breathe. He has the gun half way up his chest, pointing towards his face in a haphazard manner that speaks volumes.
His head jerks, and his eyes open half-way.
“Fuck, not again,” he moans out and my heart clenches. It’s said in a way that I understand instantly he’s used to waking up from this nightmare.
In his other hand there’s an almost finished bottle of whiskey. I watch as he brings it up to his mouth and swallows the last of it down in one gulp. He moans again. It’s the sound I imagine an animal would make if it is caught in a trap.
Somehow the painful noises coming from him are worse now that he is awake. This doesn’t just haunt him when he can’t help it. It’s constant. Is this my fault? Is this why he hates me so much now? Dear God, I think I hate myself more.
The light flickers again and this time it is bright enough it reflects off his face. Had it not been so hauntingly sad, it would have weakened my knees from the sheer beauty.
I take another hesitate step into the room. Unsure at this point of what to do or say, only knowing I have come too far to turn back.
The bottle falls from his hand, or rather he drops it. The carpet softens the fall and you can’t hear it drop—not really. Still, I think the thud echoes in my heart. Nicole’s words come back into my head.
He’s broken, baby.
Oh god, I don’t think I had any idea of just how broken.
“Jacob,” I whisper, my voice unsteady. I have heard you don’t sneak up on a wounded bear. If anyone is wounded, it is this man, that much is clear, now more than ever. Yet, this is beyond my scope of experience. All I know is I just can’t leave him alone.
His head moves to the side as if in a daze. My f
irst instincts are to turn on a light and try to connect with him. Still, if I do that I won’t get the chance to help him further. He’ll throw me out. Heck, he might anyway.
“Care Bear?”
The old nickname rolls from his tongue. It delights and wounds at the same time. The only people to ever use it were Jacob and Jazz. Besides my parents they are the only two people to own my heart. Completely own it. My life has been so empty without them. If Jazz was still alive, she’d know how to reach Jacob, she’d know how to make everything better. Never have I missed my best friend more than I miss her right at this moment.
“It’s me, Jacob. I wanted to check on you,” I say cautiously, walking a few more steps towards him.
“Why?” He asks, his voice is slurred and full of confusion.
“I wanted to see you. I thought you might need me,” I respond honestly.
“Care Bear always wearing your heart on your sleeve, world will eat you alive someday.”
I wish I could argue with him, but that has pretty much happened.
“Let’s get you in bed. You’re tired,” I say, standing in front of him, praying I am distracting him enough.
“I’m fucking tired of it all,” he says, as his eyes close. A grimace of pain bathes his face and it breaks me. The pain seems so huge, so engrained in him I want to curl myself around him and cry.
“I know, Jacob. I want to help you. Let’s get you in bed. It’ll look better in the morning,” I lie, wishing it was the truth.
“It’ll never be better.”
I slide my hand around the gun gently, hoping he doesn’t notice.
“Someday it will. You just have to hold on, Jacob. Isn’t that what you told me all those years ago?” I ask. I pull on the gun, thanking God that he seems to be concentrating on my words. He doesn’t realize he is giving it to me.
The weapon feels weird and heavy in my hands. I don’t like it, anything about it really. I want it far out of his reach, but I can’t do that just yet. I back up to put the gun on top of the television. I don’t want to turn my back on him. I’m afraid if I lose eye contact with him that he might sober up enough to know I’m really here. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t register the fact right now. If he did, he’d be screaming for me to leave…or using the gun on me.
