Indulge

by C. D. Breadner

  And a very bright half of an orange pill.

  He stared at it for a moment, jaw clenching hard, fury just starting to rise. Then he turned to the living room just as a smell hit his nose. There was a puddle of vomit on the ground, that’s what he was smelling.

  His fury fled, giving way to complete panic.

  “Gertie!” he shouted, heading down the hallway. His stomach tightened when he looked in the bathroom, the light still on over the sink. There was more vomit in the toilet. Completely terrified now he headed to the bedroom, shoving the door open so hard it hit the wall.

  She was in bed, hadn’t moved.

  “Gertie, shit,” he climbed onto the mattress next to her, holding her face in his hands. “Gertie, come on honey. Wake up.” He slapped her cheek lightly. “Gertie, Gertie. You with me? Come on, honey. Please. Oh Christ. Please wake up baby.”

  When she squirmed in his hands he was instantly relieved. He sighed, letting go of her head and setting her back on the pillow. She fought to open her eyes.

  “Gertie,” he called softly. “Are you all right, babe? Honey, talk to me.”

  She blinked rapidly, and he could tell she was trying to focus.

  “Gertie? What’d you take, honey? How many?”

  She pushed at his hands and he sat on the bed with a relieved sigh. “Buck?” she finally croaked. “What are you doing here?”

  He pushed his hair out of his face, shaking his head. “Honey, what’d you take?”

  “Nothing.”

  Fear was gone, fury returning. “Gertie, I saw the pills in the kitchen. Where’d you get the Sunshine, baby?”

  She looked stricken, then her face crumpled and she collapsed into sobbing.

  Fuck. What the hell? He gathered her up to his chest, holding her with her head under his chin. His hand rubbed her back. “Gertie, talk to me babe. I came in here to see your shit thrown all over, the TV on, puke on the floor. You scared the shit out of me.”

  “I feel like shit.”

  “I don’t doubt that. But you gotta tell me where you got that shit, and you have to promise me you’re never taking it again.”

  “I’m not,” she promised, sounding wretched.

  He held her while she trembled, clutching his hoodie with both fists, and now that he wasn’t so terrified she was going to die he felt the anger coming back.

  Buck stroked her hair, trying to keep his tone soft. “Honey, where’d you get that Oxy from?” She sniffled, then sat up. She wouldn’t look him in the eye and he struggled to keep his tone amiable. “Gertie, where’d you get that shit?”

  “Can you just let me explain?”

  He took a deep breath and stood up. “I told you that shit was dangerous. I told you to stay away from these guys. What the hell, Gertie?”

  She flinched, even if he hadn’t actually raised his voice. “Can I just -”

  “No!” he cut her off. “I can’t take care of you if you’re not going to listen to me, Gertie.”

  Her eyes came to his and she looked shocked for a moment. “You don’t have to take care of me, Buck.”

  He stopped, hands on hips. “No? What the fuck is this then?” She shrank back, looking away from him, and he felt like a prick but he was so pissed off at the same time. “Is this what you do when I’m gone? Try new shit? You didn’t learn any lessons taking acid that time?”

  Now she rolled to her side, facing the wall. “Leave,” she muttered.

  “No, I’m not leaving. Tell me where you got that shit.”

  Nothing, fucking silence.

  “Gertie, fucking talk to me.”

  She sat up suddenly, eyes bright with anger. “Get the fuck out!” she hollered, picking up a pillow and throwing it. “I feel like shit right now. I don’t need a fucking parent standing over me demanding that I explain myself. Asshole!” Then she flopped back down.

  Buck bit the inside of his cheek, counting to five. Then he approached the side of her bed, leaning over her a bit, tone cold and controlled because he almost didn’t trust himself to let loose. “You want me gone? Fine. You got it, honey. Enjoy your fucking pills and booze. Hate to have you actually feel anything without chemical help.”

  Then he left the bedroom, working her spare key off his key ring. He stalked into the kitchen and tossed it on the kitchen table, scattering the loose pills every which way and turning back for the door, nearly tripping over her damn suitcase. It made him stop, seething, staring down at the office clothes she wore that were pretty fucking hot on her. Everything was so goddamn tight he was suspicious of every story she had starting with This guy at work …

  He let his head roll back on his neck, staring up at her ceiling. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath. This was one of those moments where you decide to just go back on the path where you were, not even aware it wasn’t that great until something incredible came along and made you switch paths. So was the old path where you wanted to be? Or was the distraction worth learning a new way?

  When he lowered his head he caught sight of the painting she’d been working on for him. She’d left her brushes out, too. They were likely hard, wrecked. She never did that.

  Something happened to her. Something set her off. And she wouldn’t let him in on it if he tried shouting it out of her.

  With a heavy sigh he shoved her clothes back in her suitcase, standing it up on its end and pushing it out of the way. Then he shrugged off his hoodie and the kutte underneath, hung them over the back of a chair, and dug under the sink to find a bucket and some all-purpose cleaner. Living at the clubhouse, he was no stranger to cleaning up puke.

  There wasn’t much there at least. Once the rug was scrubbed and he’d tidied up the washroom he dumped the bucket and washed his hands, then scooped all the Advil up and put it back in the bottle. The half an Oxy he flushed. Next Buck emptied her suitcase, tossing all the clothes in the washing machine and starting it. As he was turning to leave he stopped because Gertie was standing in the doorway, leaning on the jamb.

  She looked like shit. She was pale, drawn, looked to be hurting, and she’d been crying. Her eyes were red and puffy, face splotchy. Buck knew the basics of her family life and childhood. She’d never really opened up to him about how any of it affected her. And they’d never discussed her marriage at all. He realized then and there that he knew her personality-wise, but he didn’t know how she got to be the way she was. Not really. It was one of those moments where you realize that something’s missing from what you thought was a complete picture.

  “You didn’t leave,” she stated simply.

  He shook his head. “Don’t wanna take the easy way out this time. I want to be with you. But you have to talk to me. You have these moments where you lock up and I don’t know what’s going on in your head. You have to let me in if this is going to work. Because you’re in, Gertie.” He tapped the side of his head. “You’re all the way in. You’re so in I don’t even worry about how I’m not going to fuck other women or how I have to put up with your weird moods. Because you have them, and it’s fine. I like not knowing what I’m walking into when I see you. But I need to know what’s going on. I’ve told you as much as I can about me and you know why I can’t tell you any more than that. So meet me halfway, honey. Please.”

  She was chewing her lip, brow furrowed. She was scared to talk to him, and he felt like a prick. He’d scared her. Shit.

  “Come here,” he said softly, holding his arms out. Without hesitation she stepped into the hug, her arms sliding around his back, wrapping him up tight. He did the same, face in her hair. “You gotta let me in,” he repeated, rubbing her back.

  “Sometimes … sometimes I just want to be numb.”

  It hurt him to hear that.

  “I drink when I’m alone. I drink when I have to meet people. I’m … I’m scared you’re going to find out I’m boring.”

  He frowned and pulled back, tilting her chin up to look at him. “What are you talking about?” He tried to keep it light because the
idea was ludicrous.

  She swallowed. “I’m boring. I’m not interesting. And I didn’t want you to know that.”

  Buck pulled her back into a hug with a light laugh. “Gertie, don’t say shit like that. It’s not true. You’re not boring, honey.”

  “You’ll think I am eventually.”

  “Why the hell would you say this?”

  “Because my husband did. That’s why he left me.”

  He stilled for a moment, then kept rubbing her back. “Gertie, I’m telling you. I’ll never find you boring. Because you’re not.”

  She pulled back, wiping her eyes. “I am. You know what I like to do? Stay home. Stay in bed. Cuddle. Watch TV. Read books. And painting. I like painting.”

  He shook his head. “So do all that.”

  “But it’s boring. No one wants to do that.”

  He pushed a hunk of her hair back over her shoulder, sighing. “Honey, here’s the thing. If your husband was worthy he’d do all the shit you wanted to do, not just what he wanted.”

  “But that’s not fair. He didn’t want to sit around the house with me all the time.”

  “So what? If he wanted to go out and show off his woman, he should have picked the shit you would have liked to do. You like watching TV? He should have taken you to the movies. You like art? He should take you to galleries.” He shook his head, smiling. “You come to parties at the clubhouse because you know it’s important to me, right?”

  She nodded.

  “And it goes the other way, too. If you like something or find something important and fun, tell me. Let’s do it.” He cupped her face in his hands. “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go, do anything you get in the mood for. Because I just want to be with you, Gertie. That’s what I want to do. Make you happy, make you smile, show everyone what a funny, gorgeous and amazing woman I’ve got. I’m proud to have you on my arm, honey.”

  Her eyes flicked back and forth between his. She was chewing her lip again, searching for signs he might be lying.

  “Honey, why would I tell you this if it wasn’t the truth?” Her lip quivered and she tried to look away but he gently caught her by the chin. “Gertie, I’m going to level with you. I don’t date. I’ve never had a steady girlfriend. Never met a girl I’d want to do all that with. It was always easy to tell which ones wouldn’t be worth my time. But honey, you are. And I want in. I’m glad you told me how you feel, so hear me out when I say it’s bullshit.”

  She smiled at that a little bit.

  “There she is,” he grumbled, kissing her temple. “Gorgeous when you smile, Gertie.”

  She shook her head but he held her chin in place.

  “No more of that shit. Stay away from this Sunshine junk. Please. Whoever’s making it is inconsistent in the mix. The batches are all different strengths, it’s impossible to know what you’re actually taking. And I’ll stay home more, spend more time with you.”

  She shook her head, stepping back. “No, don’t be silly.”

  “I don’t want you feeling lonely. You just lost your mom, honey. And clearly this divorce hurt you. I’ll spend more time with you, okay?”

  She smiled, still shaking her head. “Don’t forsake the club for me. That’s your family, remember? I’m not the center of the universe, Buck.”

  He ran his hands up and down her arms. “You’re important to me, Gertie. I promise.” He kissed her forehead. “Let’s get some sleep. I’ve been riding most of the day, I’m tired.”

  “Buck?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m sorry I scared you.”

  “Don’t be scared. Just don’t do it again.”

  She smiled, went up on her toes to kiss his cheek, then led the way to her room again. He meant it; he was dead tired and the momentary panic of thinking she might be in peril ate up the last of his energy. He shed his boots and climbed onto her bed, drawing her into his arms. Buck was surprised to find out just how vulnerable Gertie could be. Yeah, she’d been crying after her mother’s funeral but that was expected.

  She had her fragile moments after all. He felt like he’d finally broke through, got into the soft part of her. It felt good.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Gertie stalked to the bedroom and slammed the door.

  Yes, slammed it. Like a thirteen year old, and she didn’t give a shit. Buck was making her crazy, and the worst part was he was right.

  “Gertie,” he called through the door, sounding just as pissed off. Then he tried the handle. It didn’t even have a privacy lock. She held the knob and planted her back to the door, not about to let him in.

  “Go away,” she advised, sounding as serious as a heart attack. “I mean it, David. Sorry, Buck. I’d hate to use your real fucking name, right? How horrible for you that I let your real name slip in front of people who already fucking know what your real name is!” She was shouting, the neighbors likely heard each word. She couldn’t give a shit. She was that pissed off.

  “I’m sorry, okay? Just open the damn door.”

  “Fuck off,” came her clever reply. There was something satisfying in saying it.

  “Gertie,” Buck’s voice was low and dangerous. “We talk things out, remember? We don’t retreat and stew on it.”

  She steadied her breathing, trying to remember what pissed her off more. First, having him give her shit for calling him David while standing in Jolene and Mickey’s yard. Where everyone could hear her chastisement like she was a fucking cocker spaniel. Then coming home to him asking her why she’d be drunk at two in the afternoon on a Saturday.

  The Saturday in question she’d been on her own at his house, he was on a run. She was painting his goddamn bathroom to be nice, and Trinny stopped by unannounced. Who did that? She was alone, painting a bathroom and had a couple beers. So what? She was hardly drunk. And after having him give her shit in front of his friends the last thing she wanted when they got to his place was a fucking AA lecture.

  “Gertie, open the fucking door!”

  “Fuck off!” she repeated. Yep, still felt good.

  “I’m kicking it down.”

  “No you’re not.”

  “I’ll kick this damn door in, I mean it.”

  She shook her head, still fuming, biting back on another fuck off when the door shook behind her. With a surprised gasp she jumped away just as it swung in, breaking the top hinge, half of it swinging so far inward it took a chunk out of the wall.

  She was shocked. She could only stare at the half-door embedded in the wall. “Look what you did!’ she snapped.

  “We fucking talk this out,” he repeated, taking her by the arm and sitting her on the edge of the bed. Not forcefully, nowhere near hurting her. But she was still stunned that he kicked the door in.

  “There’s nothing to talk about,” she spat out when she was sitting. “I hate when you talk to me like that. I’m not a child. I do stupid shit, but I’m not a child. I get to make my own fucking choices.”

  He sat next to her, fighting to stay calm. “I apologized for the name thing, didn’t I?’

  She had to nod. He had. And really, all he’d done after she called him David was say, “It’s Buck, Gertie. Jesus.” He’d been stressed lately, she knew that. It wasn’t as big a deal as either of them were making it out to be. It came out a little harsh, that’s all. But then when they arrived here he’d torn into her about this alleged bender she went on when he was out of town.

  “You said you didn’t want me to miss runs to stay here with you. But fuck, Gertie. I’ll be useless on the road if I’m half worried that you’re doing something stupid.”

  This went back to the Oxy incident, of course. It always did. And she could see his point, but Christ. She was an adult. She didn’t need – or want – a whole team of people babysitting her. She wanted to do what she wanted. Why was that such a fucking travesty?

  “If I want to have a beer while I’m here painting your fucking bathroom I’ll have a fucking beer or two,” she shouted back. He
was watching his tone, she made no such efforts. “I’m not underage or allergic. It was hot in here. And I was doing you a fucking favor. It’s none of Trinny’s goddamn business.”

  That was the other half. Trinny fucking tattling on her was weird. Did Buck tell her Gertie was some kind of lush? Ask her to check in and make sure she was behaving herself while he was gone? Gertie wasn’t exactly happy with Trinny, either.

  “She was worried, Gertie.”

  “Fuck that,” Gertie snapped. “I don’t need a fucking parole officer either. I’m not the con here.”

  Silence fell like a lead curtain. The second it was out of her mouth she wanted it taken back, she’d swallow it with arsenic if she could.

  Buck’s face closed down. He stared at her with that icy, terrifying look, then stood and left the room.

  Okay, that was scary. He was the always wanting to talk, like he said. She’d never seen Buck on lock down.

  Gertie stared at her reflection in the mirror over the dresser. Her face was flushed. She looked incredibly angry. She focused on her image, willing herself to calm down, when the mirror suddenly shook and a loud bang sounded from the other side of the wall.

  She jumped and gave a cry, her heart actually missing a beat. The banging came again and she darted out of the room, tore around the corner to the living room and stopped short as a cabinet door came flying off the frame in the kitchen. He’d pulled it off with his bare hands. Then she watched as he kicked another cabinet in.

  “What are you doing?” she shouted, barely noticeable over the crack of the wood going away.

  “This isn’t what you’d expect?” Buck shouted back. His face was flushed like hers, and his eyes were bright. It was close to scaring her more. “Me being a con and all?”

  Gertie closed her eyes. “I’m sorry I said that. I shouldn’t have.”

  “No.” Another door was torn loose. “But you fucking did.”

  “Buck, cut it out.”

  “Are you capable of seeing past the end of your fucking nose?” he finally roared, hands on the breakfast bar between them, shoulders high and tight. “For just one second can you not assume I’m trying to be a prick and see why certain things might concern me? Like when the people who shot and killed a friend of mine are selling you fucking narcotics that are not safe? Can you maybe understand that?”