by Ashley Munoz
After a few minutes, I walked back in and decided to stay and help, and be sure there weren’t any other zealous customers. We worked in silence, mostly because I didn’t trust myself not to do something stupid, like kiss her or yell at her. I was angry that she accepted a job here, with her qualifications; it was an insult to her hard work and intelligence. With the shirt, she was wearing she might as well have been working at some sleazy strip joint. I was angry that she lowered her standards and angry that she was putting herself in a position to be manhandled. I realized that we hadn’t spoken at all until I heard her soft voice, and all my anger from the night just spewed out on her.
I was pissed at myself for putting her in this position to begin with, that I felt anything for her already and I had only seen her twice. I was pissed that I didn’t hurt the asshole who touched her ass. I was just angry, and she caught the storm brewing inside of me. I watched her face twist in pain after I told her to leave. I hated the heavy rise and fall of her chest as she worked to contain her tears when I told her that I owned half the bar. I hated the realization that sunk in when her shoulders slumped as I told her to get out.
I didn't want her here, getting touched and handled by men, and maybe I could have calmly told her that, but I didn’t, I just yelled at her. And I knew that I went too far. I couldn't do anything to stop it, I had to get her out of the bar before I lost it. Letting her hate me would be worth it. Fuck it; I planned to fix it later when I’d offer her the job at my bar. I just had to hope she’d hear me out, but even if she declined it, I wouldn’t have to see her again.
After helping Brenda close the bar, I headed home. It was a little past two in the morning, and I wished that I had driven my Tahoe instead of my bike because it's loud, and having kids has made me considerate of my neighbors. I clenched my teeth as I wheeled into the driveway and pulled out the garage opener from my backpack. I cut the engine and walked inside. I crept through the door leading into the house, quietly sat down in one of the kitchen chairs, and took off my boots and jacket. After Ramsey left the bar, I couldn’t stop replaying the look on her face. She hated me. I lowered my head into my hands and let out a sigh. I really screwed things up, just like I normally did. That was the reason Lisa left, after all. I could still picture that damn note, taped to our bedroom mirror.
Jimmy, I can’t do this anymore.
Not with you, not with the kids. I thought I wanted this life, the Brass, all of it... I was raised to want it but when you went to jail, I realized I want more. I'm not strong enough to love you through all that you'll face as a member. I'm too afraid of being alone. I hope my absence inspires you to be the best person you can be for the kids and for yourself. Don’t hate me, but I never wanted this, I have dreams and if I stay here any longer, I know I will never see those dreams come to life. - Lisa
Five years have gone by, and yes, I was a shitty man back then. I landed in jail for three months for losing my temper at a bar, Sammy was only a few months old then. Aside from the hurt she caused me by leaving, and the agony she caused our daughter who ended up blaming herself for her mother's absence, I still had a hard time grasping that Lisa had pinned her getaway on me. It took quite a few counseling sessions to let that shit go and become the father I am now. Yet, here I was screwing up again.
I ran my hands through my hair a few more times before getting up and grabbing a glass of water. I set my glass down on the counter and started heading for the stairs when I heard a click and saw the corner of the living room illuminate. Dad rubbed his eyes from the oversized chair he dozed in. I stood there awkwardly for a second, hoping like a little kid that he might fall back asleep. I didn't want to talk about the fact that I just fired Ramsey with him. He yawned and slowly started to get to his feet, stretching before he walked towards me.
In a soft tone, he began his line of questioning. “Son, you just getting in?” He glanced up at the clock, then set his gaze back on me. I just nodded my response, the words were stuck in my throat, along with my admission. He looked back up at the clock, then at me again, a look of confusion and worry crossed his face. “Everything go okay at the bar?”
I faced him and crossed my arms. “Actually, Dad, no. I walked in on your new employee getting grabbed on by a customer, twice. She didn’t seem to have control over the situation at all, so I helped and ended up letting her go after the crowds died down. I don’t think that bar is really her scene.”
I brought my hand to my neck and I didn't even have the balls to look him in the face while I spouted off the nonsense, so my gaze fell on the floor instead. Then I even had the audacity to yawn and try to move past him and say goodnight. “Well, Dad, I’m…”
My dad cut me off, waving his hands and shaking his head like he was trying to erase what he just heard. “No, no, no, you didn’t fire that sweet girl. You couldn't! Even you have more of heart than that!”
He raised his voice on the tail end of his comment and my stomach sank. I knew this was going to be hard, but honestly, why did he care so much?
“Dad, you weren’t there, trust me, that bar isn’t the right place for her,” I tried to argue with him.
He glowered at me, with his hands on his hips. “I don’t care, son. I handpicked her, and it's my bar. I expect you to make this right. Unless you plan on giving her the position at your bar, do you hear me? Either way, that poor girl is going to be employed!”
He was yelling again, and I was flinching because if Sammy woke up, then I wouldn't get any sleep. He would want to sleep in my bed and he's a kicker.
“Okay Dad, I promise. After this weekend, I will fix it,” I said in a hushed tone, so he would remember that the kids were asleep.
He gasped like he couldn't believe what he just heard. “You aren’t letting that girl live with this kind of thing all weekend, you will fix it first thing in the morning!”
I'm not exactly sure how I managed to feel like a twelve-year-old boy getting caught sneaking in after curfew, but that is exactly how I felt. I placed both hands behind my head and ran my fingers down my scalp, blowing out all the extra air in my lungs. “Okay, Dad, first thing tomorrow.”
With that, I made my way around him and started up the stairs. I couldn't look at him anymore and see that look in his eyes; it was the same disappointment he had when he came to see me in jail for the first time. Or the look he gave me on my wedding day; the memory of it surfaced, even as I try to push it down.
Dad walked into my bedroom, the one at his house that Mom had turned into an office. I looked in a full-length mirror as I straightened my tie and caught Dad's reflection in the mirror. He looked sad, had his hands shoved in his pockets, almost like I was heading towards death, not marriage. We stood silently until he asked, “Does she shine for you, son?”
My chest tightened, because I remember swearing that the day I got married, it would be to my ‘glimmer.’ Lisa wasn't my glimmer, she didn't shine for me, but we were having a kid together. I was a screw-up who needed to make an honest woman out of her. I turned to face Dad and walked past him while I muttered, “She shines enough.”
Then I left to marry the woman who would later abandon me and my children.
I hated letting him down, and for some reason, he was protecting the hell out of Ramsey. Yet one more sign from the universe that Ramsey was special, and I shouldn't have treated her the way I did. Now I had to figure out exactly what I was going to say to her to try and make up for the complete asshole I was to her at the bar.
Bright rays of sunshine danced across my closed eyelids. It was nice, warm, inviting. It was the kind of sunshine you'd feel closer to midday, not early morning. I cracked my eyes open and scanned the room; indeed, the white light coming in was not from the early morning sun. Shit, it had to be late. I fumbled for my phone to check the time.
"12:30? That can’t be right," I wondered out loud while looking around my room. The “Are you still watching?” screen was still displayed on the TV from my Netflix binge the night bef
ore, and the big pile of clothes on the floor that I kept promising myself I’d go through was all lit up with the afternoon glow. Wow, I had really slept in past noon. I made a sound that came out like a scoff, or a disappointed laugh and laid back down. Screw this day and everyone in it.
I was pulling one of my large pillows over my face when I realized that my mother should have woken me up. Panic surged through me. She’d never let me sleep in this late. Cancer or not, she would always come into my room and start ‘cleaning’ if I slept past 9:30. I jumped up from the ball of blankets that I was tangled under and made my way into the hallway. I began charging towards the other side of the house, where my mom slept.
“Mom?!” I yelled through the house, hoping to hear her tender voice soothe my worry. I hated this; it felt like I just woke up in the Twilight Zone.
Shit, what if something happened? What if I could have helped her? My throat was starting to close as I thought about what could have happened to her or why she hadn't woken me, and why I’d overslept, to begin with. I winced as I remembered last night's disaster. I couldn't sleep. I tried, trust me. It wasn't like I wanted that pathetic mess running like a bad TV marathon in my head.
I was desperate to settle my mind, so I turned on The Office and drowned my sorrows in the hilarious life of Michael Scott while I ate dry Captain Crunch from the box. Sleep must have claimed me at some point because I was just now waking up and it was already noon. Freaking noon! I never had in my life slept in this long, not even after a game. The panic and concern for why my mother didn't wake me surged back with full force and filtered into every hard-footed stomp I made towards the living room.
"Mom?" There was still no answer, but then I heard my mother giggle. I knew it was her because she did a little snort at the end. Then I heard a male laugh, not a giggle, but a deep tenor laugh, husky if you will. It made my arms erupt with goose bumps, like my body was warning me to get the hell out of there. I slowed my pace and started creeping down the hall while moving my head carefully around the corner until I could see.
The only problem was, once I was able to see, I realized too late that whoever the laughing stranger was would be able to see me as well. My mom was looking at me like I was a deranged lunatic, and my brain slowed down, and heart stopped as I took in the other face. Jimmy the Jerk couldn't actually be sitting in my living room. Except that he was. Jimmy stopped talking to my mother and slowly stood, his blue jeans straightened, and his dark green shirt pulled tight against his chest with the movement. That color shirt matches his eyes. Shit, I shouldn’t notice that. All those tattoos were hidden by the blue zip-up sweatshirt he wore. Jimmy the Fist. I thought of what I heard last night at the bar and wondered how accurate the rumors about him were. My eyes lingered on the barely visible black scrawl that climbed up his neck. I wonder what it says? I hated that I noticed that damn tattoo again, or how he looked. I hated even more that I liked how he looked.
My mother cleared her throat while staring daggers at me. Her eyes squinted, and her lips thinned into a line. I followed her angry gaze and realized it was zoned in on my chest. I knew that look; it was the same look she gave me growing up when I wanted to wear ripped jeans to church or a spaghetti-strapped tank. I quickly looked down at what had offended her and saw that I was wearing a neon green tank top with the letters 'STD' printed on the front. A hilarious college joke from the student tech department, which at the moment wasn't funny, and I suppose neither was the fact that I had charged down the hallway in boy shorts underwear.
I instinctively pulled the hem of my tank down to cover my legs, but it caused the scoop neck of the tank to dip further. My mother's eyes jumped to my face then my boobs. Shit, I wasn't even wearing a bra. This was a nightmare. I glanced at Jimmy the Jerk for a second to see if maybe he was looking away or doing anything to help me through this awkward moment, but when I caught his gaze, his green eyes were boring into mine. He was standing with his hands in his pockets, feet spread apart, and his jaw locked in place. I didn’t look away; I wanted to challenge him, see how long he’d watch me. I quirked my brow as his stare roamed down the length of my body. Take it all in buddy; you’ll never see this train wreck again.
I withheld the urge to pull a Vanna White and move my hand vertically along my half-naked body, as if it were some prize. My mom moved to stand, then approached me slowly.
“Ramsey, you're finally awake.”
I gave her a tight-lipped smile while I moved my arms to my chest, I had given up on the hemline. I refused to think about my hair, or face, or how either of them currently looked. My mother gently touched my arm as she looked back towards Jimmy. I noticed that his blond hair was neatly combed to the side, and as much as I didn't want to admit it, he looked good—really good. I studied the way his long hair on top fell across his forehead. I wanted to push it off his face and run my fingers through it. What the hell? I hated him. I needed to remember that I hated this man. But even villains can have great hair.
Speaking of villains, I could feel my face finally catch up to the shame of being seen like this by my new mortal enemy. His stare was still cold, calculated, and frustrating. He wasn't looking away from me or moving to leave. I could only imagine the things he thought of me now. No, I didn't give a shit what he thought of me. I just wanted him gone, both out of my house and out of my life. The anger that was so dominant from the night before started to surface again.
“What are you doing here?” I seethed, trying so hard to keep my anger in check. I wanted to scream at him, shout, possibly throw something. Whatever it took to get through his stupid, beautiful head that I didn’t want him here. His face paled and he shifted on his feet. He seemed like he was struggling for a response.
Finally, he managed to get out, “I came here to talk to you. Could we go somewhere, uh, private, like the kitchen or something?”
I liked that he was nervous and stammering like an idiot. my Mom took that as her cue and yawned, then gently closed the space between us and kissed my cheek.
“It’s time for my afternoon nap, sweetie.” Then she looked at Jimmy and smiled bigger than I have ever seen her smile. Traitor. “Jimmy, it was nice to meet you. I look forward to seeing you again.”
He smiled back at her and nodded. “Same here, Ms. Carla, thank you for the iced tea.”
So, it was possible for him to be nice. Who knew?
Jimmy's gaze cut back at mine, and the smile he gave my mom fell away from his lips. He watched me with a measured reluctance, like he was waiting for me to make my move. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. My arms were still crossed, and my spine was straight as an arrow. I refused to look weak in front of him. Messy, crazy, and possibly like a hoarder, but not weak. He looked down at the carpet, pulled his hands from his pockets, and placed them on his hips like he was thinking. “Ramsey, look, I'm…”
I put my hand up to stop him before my brain could even catch up. Fight or flight, I was going to fight. I was already on edge, and since I refused to give him the chance to explain, or the benefit of the doubt, I stopped him from speaking. He would get nothing from me, not even the courtesy of me hearing him out.
“Jimmy, let me stop you there. I don’t know why you came to my house, why you didn’t take the fact that I was asleep as a cue to not come inside, and to leave me the hell alone. But I don’t want you here, and I don’t want to talk to you, so please leave.”
He looked shocked, his eyes wide and his lips parted. He had one hand on his hip, and the other out, like he was waiting for a low five or just still frozen from trying to talk. Then he began to rub his jaw. He coughed before he replied, “Look, I know I have been a bit of a jerk, but just give me a chance to explain.”
My arms grew tight as I pulled them in closer to my chest, like armor. “No thanks, Jimmy, I don’t need to hear you explain. Your actions have spoken louder than any word you could possibly utter today. I won’t go back to Theo’s, and I won’t go back to your bar. As far as I am concerned, our busin
ess dealings are done. We can both act like we never met each other, I don’t want to see you again after this. If you see me in the store, go the other way, don’t say hi to me, just leave me alone."
I paused, looking down, and gathered what strength I had left to kick the man out. I had never been this mean or forceful with another human being before, so it all felt like a rush. I lifted my head and stared straight through him as I said, "Please let yourself out.”
I turned and walked back down the hallway, shut myself in my bedroom, and waited to hear him leave. As I paced by the window, I found my phone and began sifting through the text messages that had come in that morning. I had two new numbers who texted me, one was from Jimmy. I opened the texts from him and read through each one, the first one came in at nine a.m.
Hey, it's Jimmy Stenson. I got your number from your resume, I need to talk to you. Would it be okay if we met somewhere?
Then another at ten a.m.
Hey, I know you're probably pretty upset about last night, I would be too. I really need to talk to you about it though, please call me or text me where we can meet up.
Then, a last one, at noon.
Okay, I also got your address from your resume. I am coming over. See you in a few.
I was such an idiot. Why was today the day that I slept like the dead? I could have met him on neutral ground and possibly avoided looking like an emotional basket case, yet again in front of him. I looked back down at my phone and saw the other text was from Theo. All it said was: Babysitting tonight. Address is 1256 NW Tenth St - Come by around 6:15.
Theo probably didn't know that his business partner had fired me. Guess I needed this babysitting gig more than ever now.
