by Ashley Munoz
I coughed and tried to clear my throat. “I'm so sorry, I appreciate you giving me a place to stay. Anything I can do to repay you?”
She scoffed, “Yeah, tell Davis to leave me and my sister the hell alone. You seemed to be pretty buddy-buddy with his guys last night.”
Shit.
How could I have been so reckless? I pulled on my boots and started to stand, when a knock came from her bedroom door. I looked at her and she glanced at me, then the door, and a man's voice yelled out, “Jimmy boy, come on out here if you're done with Jill. I know she's fun, but I need to talk to you.”
Davis. That was Davis, the freaking leader of the motorcycle club I ran away from. I had just ran right back into the belly of the beast.
I stood and grabbed my jacket. Jill, I guess, looked terrified. She grabbed my hand before I reached for the door and whispered, “Be careful,” before I slipped out.
I walked down a short hallway until it opened into a living room, with carpet that might have once been white, but was now covered in stains. Old, black leather couches framed the small room, a large screen television sat against the wall, and Charles Davis sat with a baseball bat in his hands at the center of the room. Two guys were in the kitchen, arguing over food or something, and Davis watched me as I came closer. I put on my MC face, let anger roll off me, and stood my ground.
“What the hell do you want, Davis? Weren't we scheduled to meet next week?” I practically spat at him.
He smiled and started running his hands over the bat. I wondered if that was a new thing for him, he never used to carry one.
“Jimmy boy, you don't remember much from last night, do you?”
I grappled with my dehydrated brain and body and tried to remember something, anything, but nothing came. What did I do? The fear of what I might have done was overwhelming, so I stayed quiet and waited for him to continue.
He let out a low laugh. “Figures. You're so much like your old man sometimes, always offering the farm without thinking it through first.” He let out a sigh and continued. “We had a deal, Jimmy. You wanted a sabbatical, I gave it to you, and I found your whore of an ex-wife, on top of it. You should be thanking me, happy to see my beautiful face.”
He leered and paused for a second. “It's time to get back to work for our beloved chapter. I have a job for you; I need a licensed, business truck to deliver some delicate inventory.”
He paused and waited for his words to register. They slowly trickled into my brain and I had to hide the look of dread on my face. I still didn't speak, so he kept going, “I was going to wait until next week to handle this, but you showed up last night and I figured you were eager to set up the deal. So, you start today, Jimmy boy." He slapped my shoulder as he walked past me.
I swallowed the thick, disgusting bile that was threatening to come up. “How long will you need the trucks for?”
Davis walked towards the kitchen, where the other guys were. He stopped at the sink and got a glass from the cupboard, filling it with water. He turned and handed me the cup. “Two weeks.”
Shit. I was such a fucking idiot. I had driven to the Brass to confront Davis on why he moved our meeting. I was paranoid and drunk as hell. I should have just driven to Jackson's. Now I was launched back into the Lion's Den, and without setting up anything back home to prepare for it. I was out of options and backed against the wall, so I did the only thing I could do—I stuck out my hand and he grabbed it in a shake. Davis took a step back and looked at the two guys in the kitchen.
“Now, Jones and Adams here, are going to go with you and hang out for a bit, to make sure you're not going to flake out on us or do anything stupid. You know, because of genetics. Wouldn't want a repeat of dealing with the Ripper.” Davis winked at me.
I knew that it wasn't up for debate, so I just nodded to them. I knew I wouldn't have any time to call Ramsey, or my Dad, for that matter, before I got on the bike and rode back to Rockford to get the truck set up for them. It had to be today, when most of the staff was off. The only one I would have to deal with was Rav. I moved towards the front door when I heard Davis click his tongue behind me. "Did you forget our protocol?"
I turned back to face him. He held his hand out, waiting. Shit, this was so fucking bad. I tried to hide the fear that had crawled its way up my neck, but I wasn't doing a great job of it. I dug for my cell phone and handed it over to Davis. He handed it to Jones, who flipped it over, opened the back cover and placed something small and black inside. A fucking tracking chip. This would give them total access to my phone calls and text messages going forward. Great. Jones closed up my phone and handed it back to me. Davis winked again.
"Just being cautious, you know the drill. This deal can't go south." He sauntered back into the kitchen. I didn't want to spend any more time there, so I pushed open the flimsy door and headed for my bike. I needed to get back before the two idiots who were now in charge of watching me.
As I rode down the freeway, I considered the cost of doing this, of setting up this meeting with Davis, with coming out of hiding. They would know where I lived, they would know about my kids, they would find out about Ramsey. Shit, Ramsey. Shame and grief spread through me at the thought of what I had texted her, and what I had left her on her phone. She must be worried sick about me or pissed as hell at me. I completely harassed her all night and then disappeared and ditched her on the plans we had made for the day.
I hated this, and I hated what I did last night, although I am glad that I didn’t do anything with Jill. Even though Ramsey and I aren’t technically together, it would shatter me if I did anything to hurt her. Sure, I’m mad that she lied, but I still wanted her. That desire to have her, a future with her, and no strings from my past was what made me decide that I could do this last job for the MC. Because this would be my last job, my way out. However, one thing was for sure. While these guys were following me around, I would need to stay away from her. I didn’t want her mixed up in this, and I definitely didn’t want Charles Davis to know about her.
I arrived at the bar sooner than Adams and Jones, so I pulled out my phone and texted Jackson.
Me: Take out the porterhouse rib, and don’t forget to shut the meat locker.
It was a simple code between us and since Davis had access to my phone and everything else, I had to be careful. Jackson knew what the text meant, and I hoped it would be as simple as that, like it was once before when I split away from the MC. I called my dad and made sure he knew I would be home in a few hours. Then, the dreaded call. I pulled up Ramsey’s information and dialed. A myriad of emotions swam through me. I was pissed and hurt, embarrassed and afraid, but more than anything, I missed her. I wanted to hear her voice to calm down the storm that had started brewing in me. She answered on the fifth ring.
“Hello.”
I panicked for a second, and was tempted to hang up, but I found some nerve and started talking. “Ramsey, it’s good to hear your voice.”
She waited, and I heard her shut a door, but she didn't talk, and it scared me. Finally, she let out a breath and said, “Jimmy, I’m glad to hear you’re okay.”
I looked down at the ground, so badly wanting to clear the air, and come clean and invite her into all of this. “Yeah, I’m fine…”
She was quiet and then slowly replied, masking some emotion, but I heard her voice crack. “You seemed like things were pretty urgent last night. I guess you figured out something to do until you spoke to me today.”
That didn’t sound good. Did she assume that I slept with someone? I mean, she wasn’t that far off, but I didn’t think hearing the hurt in her voice, carrying that pain, would tear through me like this. “No, Ramsey, I didn’t do anything like you might think. I did get drunk, and I ended up in Chicago. I am back in Rockford now, and we do need to talk about what I did last night, but…” Just then, I saw Jones and Adams pull onto the main road leading to the club. I had to get off the phone.
“Look, Ramsey, I want to talk this through
, but not this week. I will be gone and in and out of work all week. I just wanted to touch base with you before I go radio silent.”
There was silence, and then, “So that’s it?” Her voice was high, like she was holding in emotion or trying not to cry.
I was silent. I didn’t want to hurt her, but I also needed her to stay away from me this week. I didn’t want the MC anywhere near her. I waited too long, and she spoke again.
“Okay, Jimmy.” Her response was plain, flat, and with no emotion. What the hell did that mean? She hung up.
I grabbed my chest as the phantom pains surged through me. I hated this. All I wanted was to drive to Ramsey’s house with dinner, take her by the hand, and have a date with her. To kiss her again, to tell her that I had fallen in love with her, to share with her how much she meant to me, but I couldn’t. This had to come first, I had to do this job, see Lisa and put this behind me. Then I would go to Ramsey.
Hopefully, by then, it wouldn’t be too late.
In college, I took a course on understanding the different types of pain. While most pain is classified by the damage it leaves to the body, and is referenced to be a physical thing, there is a lot to be said about psychogenic pain. Psychogenic pain has to do with psychological factors but could also stem from tissue damage that affects the psychosis of a person more than the physical well-being of a person. I often wonder if that is how people can die of a broken heart. I mean, I am not on the verge of death from my heart being broken, but I am pissed as hell, and it hurts. I wasn’t too big of a person to admit that I was in pain over Jimmy, which just added to the pain that radiating through me, regarding my mom. The damn clock seemed to be at odds, once again, with me.
"Sammy, you can't kick it out of bounds and keep going, buddy. You need to stop and come back in once you kick it out,” I yelled while lifting myself up onto my elbow, covering my eyes, to block the sun. Jasmine sat behind me, my hair laying in her lap, while she braided it. Sammy corrected his position on the field, heading closer to the center of the field. I laid back down on the grass and closed my eyes, letting Jasmine continue with my hair. It was an unusually warm day for the end of September, but I liked it. The sun felt fresh and clean, like it was somehow consoling me, like it knew that I was angry. It was Friday, and I had yet to see Jimmy the entire week.
I was supposed to be working at Sip N Sides, finishing up the financial report for the end of the month, but instead I was here, at the park with the kids. Theo didn't seem to care that I took off and I doubted that Jimmy would ever know. I had gone into Jimmy's every single day this week, partially expecting to see Jimmy walk in or to find him talking to Rav in the kitchen, but I never did. Rav tried to encourage me with jokes and scones, I tried to keep my face expressionless. No other employee seemed to be affected by Jimmy's absence, so why should I?
I was mad that it bothered me, angry that I wasn't being professional about it, but the fact that Jimmy just left my life overnight was too much.
He mentioned work, that it was a busy time, but things seemed normal at the bar. Nothing seemed out of place but then again, I had just started there, so maybe this was normal for Jimmy. But it didn't feel normal, something felt off about all of it. It felt strange, but it wasn't my place to say anything or push for more information than Jimmy was willing to give.
"Ramsey?" Jasmine's voice brought me out of my thoughts and back to the field I was laying in.
"Yeah, honey?" I kept my eyes closed as I talked to her. I wasn't ready to embrace the power of the sun yet.
"When are you coming over to our house again? I like it when you come over." She sounded so sweet, so innocent, and she still had no idea that I liked her dad romantically. I had no idea how to answer her, so I went with vague.
"Not sure, sweetie, but it's up to your dad and grandpa too, and I know things are crazy right now for them." Jasmine pulled a few strands of my hair back.
"Daddy had two of his friends over the other night. He told me and Sammy to stay in the backyard, and not to go in the house until his friends were gone. But I had to go to the bathroom, so I went inside. They didn't seem very mean or scary, they just have lots of stuff on their arms like my daddy, but they had long beards and smelled kind of bad."
I laughed. I didn't mean to, but picturing little Jasmine creeping around her house, trying not to smell the two guys, had painted a hilarious picture in my head. Jasmine started laughing with me. Sammy ran over and sat next to us, just to be included in the laughter. I realized that things were going to be fine; they'd be just fine as long as I had laughter in my life.
Once I got home, I turned my phone off. I turned it on once my mom went to sleep; she needed to be my priority and my sole focus when I wasn't working. Tuesday and Wednesday, I actually expected to see a text or call from Jimmy, once I would turn my phone back on. I never did. So, by Friday, I stopped expecting it. I only heard from Laney or on the rare occasion, Theo, if he needed something work-related. It hurt, and I was angry that Jimmy wasn’t talking to me. Whatever he was mad about must be pretty bad for him to just drop me the way he did.
There were several nights that I wanted to just drive over to Jimmy’s house and confront him. I knew that he came home every night, according to the kids, and that he too seemed sad. Whatever, he can eat a bucket of rusty nails. Except that I didn't want him to get hurt, because I still loved him. That was the worst part of all this; this separation from him only confirmed that I didn’t want to keep doing this friendship thing, I wanted to be his, in every possible way. I still had the last voice messages saved on my phone that Jimmy had left that night, and all of his texts. I reread them over and over again, I listened to each message. I felt helpless and deranged, and I knew that I was bordering crazy town, but I didn’t know what else to do. I missed him and was mad at him, I wanted to punch him and kiss him all at the same time, and I listened to his drunk messages because I wanted to cling to the sound of him still wanting me.
It had been about two hours since I changed into pajamas and crawled into bed on a Friday night. I would be embarrassed, if I hadn’t been hoarding drunk calls and texts like a maniac. I tapped the screen of my phone and saw that it was eleven thirty. I couldn’t sleep and the warmth in the air from earlier in the day still lingered. I threw the covers off of me, and got out of bed. I pulled on some jeans, a sweatshirt, and tennis shoes. I braided my hair, grabbed my keys and my phone, and walked out of the house. I didn’t get in the car, I just walked past it.
The night air was soothing and calm, the full moon above me assisted the streetlights with brightening the dark night.
I pulled my hood up and pushed my hands into the pockets of my sweater while I walked. I didn't plan on it but after a few minutes, I was heading down Jimmy's street. Crazy town, here I come. I noticed that Theo's truck was gone, which meant he was probably at his bar, but more importantly, it meant that Jimmy was home. I stood in front of his door for a few minutes, thinking. I could knock, but I'd wake the kids. I pulled out the silver key on my keyring and stuck it into the top lock—it was exhilarating and intoxicating being in crazy town, I might just decide to move here.
I started to turn the key, except it wouldn't turn. It was frozen. I pulled the key out and tried the bottom lock, only to find the same conclusion. I would wonder if it was me, but I had easily unlocked this door only five days ago. I stood there, confused, until it hit me.
Holy shit, did he change the locks? He wouldn’t. Would he? I kept telling myself that he wouldn’t come into my life, offer me a key as a friend, and then be a coward and change the locks. I tried the key again, in both locks, and still nothing. I stood there, just staring at the door, and the key. There weren’t any lights on, and I couldn’t hear anything, which at least helped with my mortification.
I turned away from the door as tears started to form in my eyes. In case he was watching, I didn’t want him to see this. My eyes stung as the air hit the tears running down my face. Heat was clawing its way up m
y throat. I very slowly and carefully unhooked his house key from my keyring. Tears were still falling down my face as I carefully turned back around and placed his key on his welcome mat, then I turned and walked away.
Why did I feel like I had been dumped, when all we had between us were a few sparks? Okay, for me, it was like a freaking forest fire, but I was careful. I waited. I pushed for friendship! I was yelling at myself internally, in crazy town. I needed to snap out of it, and soon. I was acting like a lovesick, rejected sixteen-year-old, who was in love with her teacher.
I shrugged my shoulders, as if I could somehow shrug away the pain of rejection or loosen the tension of shame. I felt desperate and utterly pathetic. No, this wasn’t me. I wasn’t this girl. This sad, and very low moment, was the final nail in the coffin for Jimmy Stenson. His kids, I would die for, his father was still my hero, but my relationship with Jimmy Stenson was over. It wasn’t even that he changed the locks, it was that he didn’t even have the decency to tell me that he wanted to change the locks. I didn’t want that stupid house key to begin with, it wasn't like I asked for it. I was still justifying and arguing things in my head, I hated this. I hated me at the moment for becoming this. I walked up the steps to my house and decided that the weekend had just started, and I needed to get rid of whoever this version of Ramsey was, once and for all.
For the record, I ran this whole thing past my best friend, who is smart and educated and makes really good choices. She sees my blind spots. So, when I told her what happened with Jimmy, she used some very colorful language to tell me to get my butt out of the house and go find something to do. I decided that I would take up my coworker Jessica on her offer to hang out. It was Saturday afternoon when I called her and with a very high-pitched scream, Jessica gave me several, “Oh My God’s,” and a few, “Hell Yes’s.” So, our plan was to hit up a bar called Infinity in Rockford, with a few of her girlfriends, and drink.
