Indulge

by C. D. Breadner

  Buck’s hands had tightened into fists. “She has shitty days. We all do.”

  Mickey nodded, getting to his feet. “You’re right. None of my business. Jolene was worried.”

  “Tell your old lady to butt out of it.”

  He should have known better, but he was supremely pissed. Mickey grabbed him by the front of his work shirt, pushing him against a concrete pillar in the middle of the garage floor. “My old lady has my ink,” Mickey reminded him, calm as anything which was an indication of how dangerous his mood actually was. “My old lady knows what’s expected from the role. My old lady sees a concern and shares it with me because she’s worried about someone else she cares about. Which happens to be you, you fucking prick.” He let go of Buck’s shirt with a rough jerk, just to make his point.

  “Sorry man. That wasn’t cool.”

  Mickey nodded. “It really wasn’t. That’s my wife, asshole.”

  “I know. But Gertie’s my woman, too. That being said, I know why you got pissed.”

  They just eyed each other up, then in an unspoken agreement clasped fists and shoulder-hugged. Just like that. Forgiven but not forgotten.

  Mickey sauntered back to his office, likely to fill Jolene in on the details of what he’d learned. Not that Buck could fault the guy for that; her loyalty was built on the fact Mickey shared nearly everything he could.

  Buck had reacted that way because he knew his friend was right. Gertie suffered ups and downs, more than anyone else he’d ever known. And her drinking did worry him, not to mention the incident with the Sunshine at her condo. That was always at the back of his mind anytime she didn’t answer her phone or he came home, calling out to her and getting no answer which meant she was passed out.

  Cutting her loose wasn’t an option. Who’d look out for her? Her brothers were assholes, her mother dead. And her father had his own shit storm brewing, which meant she’d be on her own. He couldn’t be the one to turn her out like that.

  He finished sorting his shit and left the garage with a wave to the office, which was returned by Jolene and Mickey. He climbed on his Dyna, let the motor roar to life and headed home. Gertie was supposed to be there when he got home, she said she’d stay the weekend. When he got to his house the front blinds were drawn, which made his stomach pitch. When he got inside the front door he knew she wasn’t up for being good company for him.

  Nope, not a good weekend.

  It was a strange thing; she wanted it dark when she got sloshed, like that made it acceptable to be tanked at four in the afternoon. And the smell was something else he was becoming accustomed to. When she got drunk enough to black out the whole house took on a strange smell that was vaguely alcohol-like, but mostly musty and sad. He’d never known that stink before, but he was becoming familiar with it.

  In the kitchen he found toast in the toaster, abandoned sometime during the day because she’d forgotten about it. He tossed it, tidied up the crumbs she’d trailed everywhere, and fought down the anger when he saw she’d been painting and left all her shit out on the kitchen table to harden on the tarp she used as a drop cloth.

  She liked painting, said it made her feel good. But she did it while drinking and ended up ruining every set of brushes she owned. Luckily he’d figured out proper brush care and set them in a tumbler of thinner on the table, wiping at the drips she’d left on the vinyl he meant to replace anyway.

  The cupboards he’d kicked the shit out of still didn’t have new doors; he hadn’t gotten around to replacing them yet.

  To air the place out he opened the window over the kitchen sink, then did the same to the window over the small table with two chairs that were in the corner. He moved to the bathroom, needing a shower himself. And when he flicked on the light he tried to be alarmed, but he couldn’t be.

  She was in the goddamn tub, turning blue, sleeping. Jesus, she could fucking drown.

  He pulled the plug, knelt next to her and patted the side of her face. “Gertie,” he was calling, trying not to sound as furious as he was. “Wake up. Jesus, you could have drowned.”

  He turned her head to face him as her eyes opened, and that’s when he saw the goose egg on her left temple. “Christ,” he spat out. “Did you hit your head? Are you okay?”

  She tried to bat his hand away. “I don’t feel good.”

  “Yeah, from drinking or giving yourself a fucking concussion?” It did no good to argue with someone when they were drunk, he knew that. But she seemed so intent on pissing him off lately.

  She just shook her head and sat up, then her eyes got wide.

  “Gertie?”

  “Buck -” she gasped it out, then hunched over and threw up in the draining bathwater.

  Buck closed his eyes, hand to his head, taking a deep breath. He counted to ten, then stood up. “Okay, clean yourself up. We’re going to the hospital.”

  Chapter Fifty-One

  “Gertie, wake up.”

  She sighed, rolling to her other side. It made her head throb and her equilibrium went a little tipsy, but she opened her eyes and let Buck check her for signs of damage. This was embarrassing, the worst point of her life. He was here taking care of her in her condo and she still couldn’t tell him everything. It was past the point where he’d forgive her for all her fuck-ups. That potential milestone was about a month ago, come to think of it. She was stupid to think she could sort this herself. She didn’t have the skills for it.

  It was brutally heartbreaking, but she was now waiting to be found out and have him turn her away from his life. She was a coward; she was just anticipating the disaster instead of thinking of ways to avoid it. On Monday she fully expected to be fired, she’d just done an interpretive tribute to her late mother and given herself a minor concussion, and Buck was putting up with all of it and looking out for her still.

  Losing him was going to suck.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, eyes stinging. “I’m so fucking humiliated.”

  Buck’s expression didn’t change, he didn’t serve up a grin to make her feel better, barely looked her in the eye. “Don’t be,” he said simply, brushing her hair off her forehead. “I know you’ve had a rough couple of years. Just gotta pull yourself together, honey.”

  He called her honey. No other man in her life had done that, only Buck. She was going to miss that, too.

  “I’m trying,” she mumbled, even as she said it feeling the lie in it.

  “I know.” He kissed her temple, then rested his elbows on her mattress next to her. “Gertie, I want to ask you to do something for me.”

  She let a smile slip. “Okay. What?”

  With a deep, thoughtful stare he watched his hand play through the hair at her temple. “I want you to talk to Knuckles.”

  Gertie frowned. “Why?”

  He took a deep breath, and that’s when he did look at her. “Knuckles was in the service for about five years, knew Skip from over there. He … he had a rough time. When he got home. Skip was the same. But Knuckles almost killed himself one night, walking along a train bridge. He fell off the fucking thing. He should be dead. It scared him. He stopped drinking and joined AA.”

  Cold panic slid down her back. She already knew where he was going with this.

  “He thought it was bullshit, but Skip basically forced him to go to the meetings. He didn’t get much out of the religion part of it, but he says he realized he wasn’t any different from …” Buck cleared his throat. “Well, he put it as I’m no different from any other drunk. He didn’t have a sadder history than them, fate and karma weren’t out to get him over anyone else. He was responsible for him. And he’s been sober for seven years.”

  Her heart was racing. Gertie knew her mother had never considered Alcoholics Anonymous. She was above all those filthy drunks, likely because she drank champagne and not mouthwash. Gertie didn’t think she was better than anyone else. If anything, the past few months had done a lot to convince her the opposite was actually true. But that hardly meant sh
e had a problem. She’d just been stressed. Understandably.

  “I mean,” Buck was continuing. “I know we come from different places, different lives.” His frown deepened. “I’m hard to be with, Gertie. Any one of the Rebels make a horrible choice for a life partner, it’s a lot to ask of anyone.”

  Confused. She was so beyond confused, then it dawned on her. He thought his lifestyle was the reason she couldn’t cope.

  It was all just further confirmation that he was one of the most wonderful people she was going to meet in her life, and she was absolute scum and didn’t deserve him. Her panic over the whole rehab talk was nothing compared to the pain in her chest, constricting her breathing. Her nose prickled again, and she couldn’t stop the tears.

  “Gertie,” he cooed, climbing onto the bed and sliding in with her, pulling her to his chest and tucking her head under his chin. It did nothing to help her guilt. “I’m so sorry, honey.”

  She shook her head and swiped at her eyes. “Don’t be,” she whimpered. “It’s not you. I swear, it’s me. You have been wonderful. I don’t deserve everything you give me.”

  His arms squeezed her, then relaxed again. “I don’t know.”

  If she was going to ruin this eventually, if she was going to stand by and let it fall apart, she had to make sure he knew it wasn’t his fault. That her excuses for being fucked up had no more to do with him than the color of her hair.

  Gertie pulled away just enough to look up at him. “I’m fine, David. I promise. I …” she shook her head. “I drank before. During my marriage. But I’m okay, I don’t have that kind of problem. I just stop caring once I start, that’s all.”

  His thumbs were stroking her neck. It felt wonderful. “I care about you,” he said, voice rough. “I don’t know what to do, how to help. But I had to let you know that … I’m falling, honey. It’s fast, a bit intense but that tends to be how I do things.”

  Time stumbled to a near halt and stole her breath. He didn’t honestly say that, did he? He couldn’t be doing this now, with everything running through her head. This could not be happening here and now.

  “Gertie, say something. Please. It’s a bad time to leave a guy hanging.” Now he was trying to make her smile, the laughter in his voice close to breaking through.

  “Oh Buck,” she gasped, tears springing up again, familiar and burning now. “I’m falling for you, too. But-”

  He didn’t let her get another word out, closing his mouth over hers in that wonderfully sure and confident way he had.

  Gertie met the passion with her own, body hell bent on continuing the betrayal. Before long he’d slid his hands under the thermal shirt she’d gone to bed in and had rolled her onto her back, his weight and heat pressing her into the mattress. Her hands urged his T-shirt upward and he quickly got rid of it. Her hands smoothed across the skin of his chest, sides, stomach, those wonderful arms. His hands picked at a few buttons on her top then yanked it upward. She curled so he could pull it off over her head, then she was prone to his touches and kisses, liberally applied to her body. His beard scratched her skin, goose pimpling it.

  Her flannel sleep pants were swept away, his jeans followed. They lovingly caressed and worshipped each other, building a heat in each other that was familiar yet different from before. Maybe it was the admission of their feelings. Either way, when Buck joined their bodies she sighed to finally have that connection, the one she was falling in love with.

  Buck’s eyes were on hers, his nose a mere inch from hers, weight on one elbow while his other hand caressed and teased her breast. Gertie’s nails of one hand were all dug into the meat of his ass fiercely, the other arm wound around the back of his neck, merely holding on.

  He liked to control everything in bed, and it was a turn on for her. When the roles were switched he was responsive and eager but he always waited until she was back under him before he finished. In times like this she wouldn’t even ask to switch spots; his eyes were heated and determined, and they both knew that this was a new development. They were making love now, an act that they were promising to only perform with each other. There would be no one else for either of them. There couldn’t be.

  For Gertie this wasn’t a lie. She’d never had this intense or rapid reaction before, but Gertie knew she already loved him. Nothing else was in her head at that moment. Not the fact that she was going to hurt him and lose him. Not the fact that he was going to hate her when he found out what she really was.

  There was only love.

  -oOo-

  “Gertrude Dénise, to Mr. Davidson’s office please.”

  It was four-thirty-eight. She’d been sick from worry all day. She’d gone from making peace with the fact she was fucked to wanting to freak out and run screaming from the building. Standing in front of Taylor Davidson’s glass and oak door had her feeling oddly cold and calm. She knocked, and when the “Come in” sounded the numbness remained. Gertie pushed into the room then let the door fall closed behind her. She stood between the two “guest” chairs in front of the boss’s desk.

  His eyes met hers and Gertie felt the shame start, but the coldness in her veins tamped it down. He began speaking but it was a distorted mumbling, words she could just barely make out over the sudden roaring in her ears. Basically, the company wouldn’t tolerate illegal drug abusers. Taylor Davidson was very disappointed in her, and hoped she would seek help. There would be no criminal charges nor would the police be alerted, but at the end of the day she was to have her office cleared out.

  Gertie wasn’t sure she gave a single word in reply. She turned and exited the office again, headed to her own space and surveyed the “personal items” she had on hand. She took the pictures, those were important. The majority were her with family, a few others were with friends. Everything else, from the inspiration posters to the cute knick-knacks people gave her, went into the trash.

  Clutching the few picture frames to her chest she headed to the elevator, rode down to the lobby, then continued on her way without a word to anyone else.

  At her condo she set the photos on the dining table and headed for the cabinet under the sink. She pulled out the Jack Daniels bottle and unscrewed the cap, tilting it up and drinking right from the bottle. Unfortunately there were only a few mouthfuls left. She tossed the empty bottle into the sink and pulled out some shitty cotton candy-flavored vodka someone had left at her place following a girls’ night out.

  There was a lot more in that one but it wasn’t as strong as she would have liked. She carried it to the living room and kicked off her heels, sank onto the sectional and stared out the window while drinking the sickly-sweet concoction.

  When it was gone as well it somewhat surprised her. She got to her feet, much less surely than before, and that bottle joined the JD one.

  Gertie was out of Oxy. She would have loved a half a Sunshine right then. Hell, two whole pills would have been fine. Just take her chances on not waking up.

  Gertie rode her building’s elevator back down to the lobby and strode out to the sidewalk, hopefully looking like she was in control of her senses. She headed in the general direction of that G-Town bar. Yes it was close to her office, but by heading one block up she could come at it from a different angle and reduce the risk of running into the drinks-and-supper-after-work crowd.

  She saw the talkative one and Handsome John not a half a block from their hangout. They saw her, too. Handsome John turned away while the chatty one approached her, working a toothpick in the corner of his mouth as always, eyeing her up as always and grinning.

  She was too drunk to worry about being uncouth. “I need two,” she said, reaching into her purse and pulling out a fifty. “I really need them today.”

  He put his hand over hers, not taking the cash. “Easy there lady,” he mumbled, amused by something. “Not out here like this. What the hell’s wrong with you? Let’s go somewhere private.”

  To demonstrate her vanishing intelligence she followed, and soon found herself i
n the dark interior of their club. The second they were through the doors she was overwhelmingly reminded how terrible an idea this was.

  There were bikers inside, but they weren’t from Buck’s club. The man nearest the door was the size of a fridge and he turned towards her, which provided a view of the patch on his chest. His name was Bozo, apparently, and he was a Mad Gypsy.

  Gertie gulped and stopped where she was. Now she was with both groups that Buck told her not to associate with.

  She turned to the chatty guy, who was striding past her with purpose. “Look, I just remembered. I have to be somewhere.”

  “Where’s that?” he asked, sounding like he was smiling even though she couldn’t see his face. “Work? Because a little bird told me you don’t have a job anymore.”

  Gertie’s frown was authentic. “What? How … how’d you -”

  “We got tech nerds. We’ve been monitoring your office’s email to see if you’ve been asking for help and reaching out to blow the lid off our operation. Too bad about the drug test. It was working well and you were pulling your weight.”

  Gertie eyed up the Gypsy next to her just as he stepped closer. She tried to move away but there was another man in black leather there to stop her. He was tall too, with a thick beard and long straight hair. He was wearing denim with his cut. Even his shirt, which had the sleeves cut off to show colorful ink up both arms. But his look wasn’t as pleasant as the artwork.

  “I can’t be here,” she found herself muttering, but the talkative guy was still talking. Of course.

  “We can still find a purpose for you. Your daddy’s still worth a million dollars or so. You’re not useless, Gertie.”

  She was tightly pressed between these two men, and she was having trouble breathing because she was choking on fear and the smell of these two. They smelled like they hadn’t been near a shower for a couple of weeks.

  “We were going to go and collect you,” the dealer was saying, coming back to her now with a baggie she recognized. “But it’s nice of you to deliver yourself to my door. Just for that, these are on the house.” He held the baggie out between his first two fingers. When Gertie reached for it, he pulled it away with another chuckle. “You’re going to want these sweetie. You’re going to need them. Because I can’t keep you here.”