“Daws, it’s been a long day. Will you just go?” Dawson stands up and kisses me on the top of the head. He starts to head towards the door.
“Hey Daws.”
“Yeah. Thanks for today. I know I can always count on you.” Dawson doesn’t say anything, he just winks at me. He grabs the door handle to leave the room and looks back at me.
“Don’t drink too much.” He says and then he exits the room.
I wake up to almost total darkness. I blink and try to figure out where I am. My head is in a serious state of pain right now. I sit up and realize that I passed out on the floor in my room at the clubhouse. I bring my hand up and rub my brow. My head is pounding, my vision is slightly blurred and my mouth is parched. The events of the day crash around me.
I close my eyes and images of us come flooding through my mind. I think I’m going to be sick. I scurry on my hands and knees to the toilet and heave, then heave some more, and then it happens. I forget to be strong and will away the tears. That brief second of forgetfulness was all my heart needed to remember. The weight of the last week, and what I thought I had but now have lost crashes in on me. I sob. My tears won’t stop. My chest aches. It hurts so bad. I'm bunched up in the corner of the bathroom floor and realize I’m screaming. I'm rocking back and forth, screaming and sobbing, trying to will myself to stop, but I just don’t have the strength to turn it off. I let my guard down and I'm feeling. I’m feeling it all. Every gut wrenching amount of pain that his betrayal has brought down on me, I feel. I hear a noise in the background, but I'm barely aware of it. Everything just feels surreal around me.
“Baby Girl.” Dawson is here. He scoops me up in his arms off of the floor. “Shh... I got you.” I can hear him as he tries to soothe me, and I can feel myself in his arms, but it doesn’t really feel like I’m here. Maybe I’m not. Maybe when your heart is ripped up and shredded, you aren’t really here anymore.
“Maura, I got you. Come back to me. You’re okay. I got you.” My sobbing has quieted down. Dawson’s voice is actually calming me. He is cradling me in his arms as he sits on the edge of my bed. He rocks me back and forth and continues to whisper to me that it’s going to be okay. Like a blanket, his words cover me and start to put a little strength back into me.
“That’s it, baby. It’s okay.” Dawson strokes his fingers along my hairline tucking my hair behind my ear.
“You want to talk about it?” He finally asks when my tears start to subside. “Did he hurt you?”
I can’t get real words out yet. I look up at Dawson and stare into his dark eyes. I nod my head yes and my bottom lip quivers.
Dawson is pissed at my confirmation, I can see it, because his nostrils flare and his pupils seem to dilate. He sets me down on the bed and stands up. He begins to pace my room then punches the drywall creating a large hole, splattering chunks of white drywall all over.
“Fuck!” He hisses. “Did he put his hands on you?”
“No. Daws. You were right though. I was nothin' but his whore. I didn’t mean shit.”
Dawson stops pacing at my spiteful words. “You’re nobody’s whore. I didn’t mean that. I was jealous and pissed. I saw how he looked at you. You weren’t a whore to him either.”
At his words I start to cry again, not those hard tears, these ones just slowly leak out of the corners of my eyes. I roll over on my bed and face the wall. Moments later, Dawson slides in behind me and holds me until my eyes can no longer stay open, and I drift into a heavy sleep.
I open my eyes and am relieved to find that I’m alone. The alarm clock across the room is telling me in bright red numbers that it’s past six. I slept an entire day away and I couldn’t be more thankful to Jack for giving me a reprieve.
I roll over on my back and stare at the ceiling, thinking about the events of the last week. I think about how gentle Corbin was with me at first. I think about how sweet it was when he popped my “sacred cherry”. I think about him watching me as I cooked at the bed and breakfast. It all felt so real. I think about missing out on my senior prom because I refused to go with Dawson and how no one else had the courage to ask me. I think about trying to go to a stupid football game my sophomore year, and Dawson getting expelled for hitting the quarterback because he thought he was checking me out. I think about my first real crush and how when I tried to kiss him, he sheepishly told me that he liked me, but I wasn’t worth the hurt he would get. Then, I think about Corbin taking me in his bed.
My mind is everywhere. I'm angry because I was never able to have what a normal girl should have. I never got to experience things the way I should have. I'm angry because I thought I was falling in love, only to have the club stop that from happening again. It wasn’t real. I'm so angry that it wasn’t real.
After laying for another hour with all of my anger, I decide that yesterday Jack was my friend to numb and take away the hurt. I pause and say this part out loud flipping off the universe with both hands, today Jack and I will be friends, “BECAUSE FUCK YOU WORLD I’M MAD!”
I splash some water on my face and make sure that there is no left over puke from my late night activities. I find a gray shirt in my closet and throw it on. I don't bother showering. That would mean that I really care about my appearance and I don't.
I head down the hall, passing one of the rooms where Slack, one of the brothers, is getting a blowjob from some blonde. They don't even have the decency to close the door. That just pisses me off more.
The bar is pretty full surprisingly, for how early it is. I notice Dawson at the pool tables playing with Skaggs. Dawson's eyes land on me immediately. My eyes connect with his but I'm not going over there. I have one objective in mind right now and that is to get sloppy.
Big Titty Rhonda is bartending. "Whatcha having, hon?"
"Hair of dog sounds good. I'll take Jack...the bottle." She eyes me down like she is judging me. "Don't judge me, bitch. Give me what I'm asking for."
She flips her hair, and walks to the other side of the bar mumbling, "Somebody’s in a mood."
Oh no, she didn't just go there. Yeah, I might be in a mood, and I might be being a bitch, but I'm family and she does not get to talk to me that way.
"Who the fuck...." I start to go off when my seat is turned away from the bar. Dawson puts his hands on both of my thighs, gripping tightly with his fingers splayed inward toward my girl parts.
"Don't mind her, Rhonda."
I start to give Dawson a piece of my mind, but he cuts me off as soon as I open my mouth. His hands squeeze harder on my thighs. I grab his wrist, not ready for his assault, but I have enough fight in me to stay guarded. I don't say anything, I just stare into his dark eyes, conveying for him to back the fuck up. The sound of my bottle slamming down on the bar in front of me breaks our staring contest.
"Rhonda," Dawson starts, "she might be in a mood, but you need to remember your place.”
"Sorry, Maura," Big Titty mumbles and walks away. I pry Dawson's fingers from my thigh, daring him to cause a scene.
"You should eat something before you hit that bottle again," Dawson says. I
ignore Dawson, reach over him, grab the bottle of Jack, and take out the pouring spout, bringing the bottle to my lips. Tilting my head back, I welcome the burn of whiskey as it scorches my throat that is sore from the previous night’s offerings to the porcelain god.
"You drinkin’ with me, Daws?"
"Now, I'm Daws, huh?" I just shrug my shoulders acting like it's no big deal to call him Daws, but I've always called him Dawson.
He grabs the bottle and takes a swig. He reaches over me, his breath hot on my ear. "Don't go anywhere. I will be right back."
Minutes later Dawson returns with a sandwich on a plate that he sets down in front of me. "Eat."
"You made this?"
"Relax. It's just some bread, roast beef and swiss. Doesn't take a chef to figure that one out."
I feel my buzz coming back already and I welcome it. A part of my brain decides to listen to
Dawson. I pick up the sandwich in a very defiant way and eat.
"Play me in pool."
"Does it look like I'm in any real mood to play games right now?"
"C'mon it will be good for you. Where's your phone? You should call Jenny."
"I haven't turned it back on. I'm not ready yet,” I admit.
He grabs the bottle of Jack and starts towards the pool tables. I said I wasn’t going to play, but my brain is telling me to follow the booze. Before I realize it, I find myself with a cue in one hand and I’m grabbing the bottle of Jack with the other.
After chalking up his cue, Dawson takes his phone out.
"Hey Jenny, it's Dawson...Whatever. Your girl needs you...Yeah...clubhouse." Then he disconnects the call. I’m surprised he has Jenny's number.
"Rack ‘em," Dawson all but commands.
I rack the balls and Dawson breaks, sending several balls into the pockets. Our game continues on with me taking swigs from the bottle alternating between sinking balls. I am, however, finding that this mindless game is making me a little less angry than when I first walked out here. Either that, or the Jack is just working really well. Before I know it, Dawson is racking up a second game. I break.
"Jenny should be here soon. As much as I like holding you at night, I got business, and I don't want to peel your ass off the bathroom floor again." Shit. Images of him scooping me up come rushing back to me, and I have to admit that he has been incredibly patient and sweet with me.
"Thanks for calling her. You’re right. I do need her." After a few more turns in the game I ask, "So is whatever that bullshit was at my place handled? I mean, am I safe to go about my business?"
I've been waiting to talk about this because I'm still not sure what I want to say to the club about Corbin. Gah, even his name sends a pang of hurt through my chest.
"Mickey is dealing with it, and I should have some of it wrapped up tonight. Another few days and it should all be over.”
I take another swig from the bottle and decide to myself that I will sit down with my dad when he gets back. As much as I loved Corbin, my loyalties are to the club.
The door swings open and my Italian counterpart sashays into the bar with her long dark hair swaying behind her. She rushes to me with open arms.
"Hey, hon. You should’ve called me. Are you okay?"
"No," I whimper, as my best friend wraps her arms around me even tighter.
"Well, you smell like shit, hon." I can't help it; a small chuckle emerges. And that right there is why I love this girl.
Jenny grabs the bottle of Jack Daniels that’s on the edge of the pool table, brings it to her lips and drinks the last swig in the bottle. Jenny does a quick shudder, "Woo, that is some strong shit. Did you drink all that yourself?"
"No. To be fair, I had a good amount, but a third was gone when Tits over there gave me the bottle. Daws had some too."
"Well, do you want to get fucked up, or do you want to talk about what's going on?" Jenny asks.
"Thinking. Still want to get fucked up."
"Well alrighty. No more of this whiskey bullshit. If I'm getting tanked with you, let's have some fun. Hey, Tits Magoo!" She calls to Big Titty Rhonda, "How about a couple of Red Headed Sluts. Daws, you want one?"
I almost forget Dawson is watching our display.
"Sure, I'll take one," Dawson says with his eyes locked on me. He is searching my eyes, not in a sexual way, but in a “is she going to break” kind of way.
Rhonda walks over with the shots on a tray, and a beer for Dawson. He didn't ask for it which means she has been paying attention to him from across the bar.
"What? You didn't bring us beers too?" Jenny says to Rhonda.
God, I love this chick. Jenny passes the shots to Dawson and me. We raise them in the air.
"To cannolis!" She declares. I take the shot glass down a little from the raised position that it was in.
"Cannolis?" I question.
"What? Cannolis are really good, and it's better than broken hearts.” Dawson nods his head and smirks.
"To cannolis," he says with a chuckle.
"Cannolis," Jenny and I say in unison and down our shots.
"Hey, Jenny. I gotta get going. Got business. You got her?"
"Like you even have to ask."
"Good. Don't leave with her. You got it?"
Jenny salutes Dawson, "Got it."
Dawson pulls me into his arms. "You're going to be okay,” he whispers as he pulls away from our hug.
I grab his arm as it slides away. "Thanks Dawson. For everything. Coming to get me, last night...Jenny. I don't know what I would have done without you."
Dawson brings his hand up and cradles my face, "Haven't you learned yet, that I'll always take care of you."
"Thank you."
I know that he is here for me, even when I am pissed off at him. I knew that I could call him and he would come. He really is watching out for me, and with that thought, some of my misplaced anger dissolves.
Jules, who has been sitting at the bar, must have noticed us saying our goodbyes. He walks over to where we are standing by the pool tables.
"Jenny, you're looking sexy as fuck these days," he says in a quiet voice. This is so unlike Jules to outwardly flirt. It's not in his quiet nature. I'm a little surprised by this. Jenny, who is usually so loud and outspoken, blushes. Very interesting, I think in my semi-inebriated state.
"Ready, Dawson?" Jules asks.
"Yep."
Jules nods at me, "Maura."
"Jules." I nod my head back at him. The two men walk out the door with Skaggs in tow.
“More shots!” Jenny calls out to Big Titty Rhonda.
I love that my girl is taking charge of the situation for me. She is not pressing me, but giving me the space to get messed up and also to be here for me.
“C’mon, let’s pick out music on the juke box.” Jenny grabs my hand and leads me away from the pool tables to the juke box. We stare at the selections, but I'm not really paying any attention as the digital display flips.
One of the club’s businesses, besides the motorcycle shop, is that we lease juke boxes and gaming machines to bars. You know the kind, where people play cards and nakey people photo hunt? We collect on a bi-weekly basis. It’s actually quite profitable. One of the things on my to do list this week will be to make sure our machines are emptied.
The first song Jenny chooses starts to play, and Kelly Clarkson's “Stronger” blares. Loud groans erupt from a few men at the bar, but Jenny could give a rat’s ass. She bobs her head to the music and pumps her fist in the air when Kelly belts out stronger. At this moment, despite my heart ache, my best friend makes me smile. Jenny grabs me and once she is finished dancing circles around me, she leads me to the bar.
She snaps her fingers at Big Titty Rhonda, "Hey Boobs, two snakebites."
“To Italians!” Jenny raises her shot glass.
“To Italians!” I say and throw back the shot. I nod my head, and twirl my finger in the air to let Rhonda know that we want another. Beers are placed in front of us and another round of shots are poured.
“To being alone.” I raise my glass.
“No. No, that will not do. We are not toasting to that crap. To pink Harleys!” She has me there. I will always toast to my bike.
“Royals” by Lorde starts to play and I'm hauled by Jenny to the other side of the bar where there is a small stage. “C’mon girl, we’re going to have some fun. Let’s forget everything right now.”
She drags me up on stage and starts to dance. I can’t help but raise my beer and start to dance with her. I close my eyes and feel the bass of the song. There is nothing like getting lost in dance. A super old rap song by Paperboy, called Ditty, comes on and even though rap is not really my thing, this song has always been one of our favorites to dance to. Jenny takes my hand and somehow she has gotten me to start grinding right back, dancing like I have no worries at all. And for this song, I don’t. I wrap myself in the danc
e and I push all my heartache aside.
Jenny and I dance song after song. Luckily, all the men in here know better and leave us alone, because at some point, Jenny decides that she is going to practice her non-existent stripper skills on the pole in the center of the stage. I know if we were at any other bar getting this drunk, I would have to worry about lame guys trying to grind on us. Anywhere else and I might not feel as safe as I do. I watch Jenny try to hoist herself in the air while incredibly intoxicated. I give strippers credit, that is a skill and a lot of work.
After falling on her ass for maybe the fifth time, we head back to my room. Both of us are sweaty from dancing and completely drunk. I lay down on my bed and Jenny lays down next to me.
“Want to talk about it?” She asks.
“I feel so broken, Jenny,” I say and silently cry in my best friend’s arms until my eyes can no longer stay open.
I wake up around 3 am. I have to pee and my mouth is super parched. I think to myself that some aspirin and Orange Juice will help me have much less of a hangover tomorrow. As I sit up, I notice that my bed is empty and Jenny is nowhere to be found. I use the bathroom and check my small fridge, noting to myself to get something to fill it tomorrow.
I walk past Dawson’s room and notice light from under the door. He has been such a good friend to me these last few days, so I decide to thank him again. I knock on his door, but there is no answer, so I turn the knob and begin opening the door.
Dawson is kneeling on his bed. His t-shirt is still on and his pants are around his ankles, trapped by his boots. He has a girl on all fours in front of him and he is pounding his cock into her ass. She is moaning quite loudly. I’m guessing that’s why he didn’t hear me knock. I can’t see her face because her head is planted forward into the pillows. I do see a large amount of blonde hair. Big Titty Rhonda is naked and on the ground behind Dawson. She has his ass cheeks splayed open with her hands and is licking behind his balls. Let it be known that “Big Titty” Rhonda will now be “Taint Licking” Rhonda.
I’m mortified. I've seen some shit, but this takes the cake. Dawson’s eyes meet mine, and for a second, he flashes a look of surprise. I shake my head and close the door retreating back to my room. Forget the juice. I’m going back to bed. I walk into my room, stick my head under the faucet of the bathroom sink and drink until my parched throat is sated, and then I go back to bed.
Wreck You Page 12
