by Ryan Michele
“Just like she made the fucking choice to be a shitty mother,” he grumbled.
I knew that shit still ate at him, and I wished I knew what to tell him so he could let it go.
“Yeah, brother. Fucking sucks, but this shit has to be done. Time to clean up.”
He popped his head up. “How exactly are we gonna do that?”
“Vipers’ style.”
“GRAMS, SERIOUSLY.”
I loved her—I swear I did—but she was off her rocker … again. This time, I didn’t have time to argue with her, though.
“I have to get to work. Just take the money.” I held out twenty-five dollars as my grams just shook her head at me, keeping her eyes glued to the television.
“Just go. My money will come in a few days, and I can get my medicine then,” she replied, not giving me a damn inch. Instead, she smiled up at me from the recliner.
While I loved it when she smiled, this didn’t make me happy.
Grams’ living room was all her. Small reddish-pink roses were on every inch of fabric, like a flower shop had puked, dispersing itself throughout her home. Her couch: roses. Chair: roses. Curtains: roses. Bathroom toilet cover: roses. Throw over her bed: roses. I was sure, if she could have found carpet with the darned things, her floors would be covered, too.
“Grams, you need to take it tomorrow to keep on schedule. I have to work late tonight and won’t be able to stop by and pick it up before they close. I wish you would’ve told me about this yesterday so I could have picked it up on the way here.”
“There’s no need to bother yourself,” she insisted.
Was it correct to want to strangle an eighty-five-year-old woman? No, it wasn’t, but in that frustrating moment, I kinda-sorta wanted to.
“Why isn’t Mom here?” I groaned.
My mother lived with my grams so she could take care of her. But Mom also worked, which was where she was now; hence, my question was rhetorical. If she were here, she’d just take the damn money, and I would be on my way. Sure, the money would magically appear a few days later, ending up back in my hand, but at least she took it at the time she needed it, unlike Grams.
“Because she works, which is where you need to get to. Now go and let me watch my stories.” Grams pointed a boney finger at the television screen where some soap opera was playing.
I rolled my eyes, turning back to the woman. “I’m leaving this on the kitchen table and calling Mom. That way, if she doesn’t have the cash for your meds, it’s there. At least she can pick them up after work if she has it.” I hastily walked into the kitchen and plopped the money on a rose-covered table cloth.
As I walked back into the living room, I saw Grams’ eyes were fixated on the television, and my eyes drifted to it.
Good Lord, was this a soap opera or porn?
A man and woman were rolling around under the sheets, kissing like ravenous teenagers. And fake. The woman’s face wasn’t into the scenario at all.
Whatever. I’d never had time to watch before and didn’t care to start now.
I turned back to her. “I’ve gotta go. Make sure you get your medicine.”
She batted at the air like she was swatting a pesky bug. “Don’t you worry about your grams. I’ll be just fine.”
I leaned down and kissed her soft, wrinkly cheek. “You will be if you take your medicine.”
Grams let out a huge huff. “Proud of you,” she said quietly, making my heart swell.
I bent down to her ear. “Love you, Grams. Now get your medicine,” I demanded, which made her chuckle.
I gave her another peck and was off.
I called Mom and Jennifer on the way. While Mom answered, Jenn didn’t. That wasn’t unusual. With my sister’s workload at school then actual work as a waitress in a coffee shop, she was busy most of the time. I left a message for her to call me back, confident she would when she had a moment.
Today was a ‘crazy on your feet,’ ‘not sitting down,’ ‘squeezing in the fastest pee break I possibly could’ kind of a day. Even after the sun fell, we stayed busy. That was both good and bad. Good because more tips. Bad because of screaming, aching feet, and a stomach that growled from not having time to eat.
I snuck in a few peanuts from my apron, but my stomach still grumbled, and I felt my energy waning.
By nine-thirty, things were beginning to slow enough that I ate a quick sandwich and began all my prep for the next day, sitting down while doing it. While it was nice to take a load off, I thought it might have been better to stay on my feet and keep them numb. Then at least I could get through the rest of the night. The way they felt now, it would hurt to get back on them.
The bell over the door chimed, and I looked up with a smile on my face as Bosco, Boner, Stiff, and Stiff’s brother Xander walked in. Same as before, the room started closing in from all their … bulk or aura or something.
It had only been a couple of days since the last time the guys came in. I couldn’t lie and say I never thought of Stiff during that time. Of course I did. It was hard not to. But thinking about him was the closest I’d ever get. It was a fact, one that I was perfectly fine with because a man wasn’t part of my goal, and I needed to keep that in sight.
“Have a seat wherever, boys,” I told them before going back to rolling up silverware in napkins. I hated those stupid paper things that went around them with the self-adhesive that never worked. I ended up throwing more away than using them.
I finished up my stack, glancing over to where they sat. Even with the busy as hell day and the fact that I had racked up tips, I was happy to see they sat in my section.
Mitzi came up to me and shoulder bumped me. Not hard, but enough to get my attention.
I looked at her, but she was staring at the guys.
“No fair. You had them last time.” She mock-pouted.
I smiled then shrugged. “It is what it is.”
I moved to their table, my feet groaning from their small reprieve, but a smile was plastered to my lips.
“Little Chelsea, how we doin’ today?” Bosco asked.
It was a strange feeling to have uneasiness yet comfort run through you at the same time in the presence of these men. I never thought for a moment they would hurt me, but I also knew if I toed a line, they’d have no trouble putting my ass back over it. Even with that, I still didn’t fear them.
“Good,” I assured him, giving my mega smile. “What can I get you boys?” I eyed them, waiting for the first to order.
The menus were on the table, but most people already knew what they wanted when they stepped foot inside Charlie’s. Everyone seemed to have a favorite something.
As they placed their orders, I wrote quickly. When I looked up, Stiff’s eyes were on me, the same as the last time he’d been in here.
Unnerved a bit, I kept my smile on and finished up.
“Chelsea, you remember my brother?” Stiff asked as I was just finishing up writing their orders.
“Of course.” I looked at Xander. He had the same good looks as his brother, although he had hair. “Hi, Xander. Welcome home.”
Everyone in town knew that Xander had been a Marine. We also knew he’d been hurt and sent home. Word traveled quickly in a small town, and Charlie knew everything. Moreover, he liked to pass on tidbits of information at every available opportunity. I swore, at times, he was worse than a teenager.
“Thanks for everything you did,” I finished with a smile.
He nodded, looking a bit uncomfortable, which confused me. I’d had no intention of offending him. I was honored that he’d fought for us. Charlie had fought in the service, and every now and again he told us stories of that time. Some weren’t pretty. Xander could just be in a bad mood. Lord knew I’d had enough of those throughout the years.
I said no more, just lifted my head and moved away.
I heard a slap of flesh then Stiff said, “Don’t be a dick.”
“What the fuck do you care?” That had to have come from his brot
her.
Stiff kept quiet, but I felt heat race up my neck as if he were penetrating me with a stare. I rounded the counter, keeping my eyes focused on anything but the table, not wanting to know the answer.
“Oh, fuck,” I heard then tuned them out, not wanting to hear any of it.
I placed the order card on the wheel, spinning it toward the cook, Rickie, in the back. Charlie had the night off.
“Order up!” I called out, and Rickie turned around then waved, acknowledging me.
I filled their drinks and made my way back to the guys’ table, nodding at a call out from another one of my tables to let them know I would be there in a few.
“Here ya go, boys,” I announced when I arrived at their table.
All eyes focused on me, which I ignored as I handed out their drinks.
“You seein’ anybody?” Boner asked in his deep tenor that sent chills through me. He might not really do it for me, but his voice was sexy as hell. Any woman would melt from it.
I arched a hip, putting on my fake-it, cocky face. “Hell no.”
His eyes widened. “Why ‘hell no’?” he questioned in a goofy voice, as if he found this hilarious.
With the tray in one hand, the other on my hip, I said, “Don’t need the shit that comes along with a guy. Y’all need anything else?”
“So, you think women don’t have a lot of shit they carry around?” Boner asked, ignoring my attempt to cut off the discussion. The man was like a dog with a bone.
I steeled my spine, not really ready for this type of personal conversation, but so be it.
“Didn’t say that. Bottom line is, I have enough of my own to deal with, so I don’t have time for anything else.”
I noticed Stiff’s smart-ass comments and come-on lines were absent for once. Nothing. He simply sat there quietly as his brother chuckled. I was pretty sure I had entered an alternate universe.
“Anything else?” I asked.
“I—” Boner started.
Bosco reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “Leave the girl alone,” he ordered, and Boner laughed. “We’re good, doll,” Bosco said, lifting his chin to me.
I nodded to the table and went to the other that needed me to check on them.
A little while later, as I finished up the sugar refill, my feet burned, muscles ached, and I was ready for the day to be over.
I looked up as Mitzi sashayed her way over to the boys’ table.
“Hey, there,” Stiff said in what I liked to call his ‘yes, I’m flirting with you; come to my bed’ voice.
The twinge of jealousy hit me square in the chest. While he’d barely spoken two words to me tonight, there he was, acknowledging Mitzi in a way that made my hands want to shake.
Sure, she was pretty with dark brown hair instead of my blonde. She was tall and slender rather than my semi-tall, all ass and boob body. She had a clear face, while I had just a sprout of freckles that went over the bridge of my nose. Mitzi had green eyes compared to my blue. Her makeup was perfect as opposed to my barely noticeable natural look. So, yeah, she was hot, and any man would be taken aback by her.
I tried to shake my feelings off and ignore the rest of their conversation. It wasn’t my place, and really, why did I care? I couldn’t lay claim, not that I even wanted to.
“Order up,” Rickie yelled from the back, thankfully pulling me out of my thoughts.
I took a tray, piled on the guys’ food, and made my way to their table.
Mitzi had moved away, and I was relieved by that. Most everyone was gone in the diner except the guys and two other tables, each with two people at them. All of them were in my section and not Mitzi’s. They must have caught on to her attitude, too.
“Here we go, boys,” I said, placing their food in front of them, the sound of the porcelain sliding across the table like music to my ears. Sad, I know, but very much true.
I slid Stiff’s in front of him and got a, “Thanks, doll.”
A thrill raced up my spine. Sure, I’d been called doll before by customers. We were in the South, so everyone had hospitality, but the deep, sexy way Stiff had practically growled it made regions in my body wake up that I’d thought for sure were dead by now. I pushed that down and kept my smile in place, though.
“Sure,” I managed to get out without it sounding like a breathy exhale. Stupid hormones.
The first order of business when I got home was to get out my vibrator—if I didn’t pass out from exhaustion, which was a high probability.
I skated away, needing a bit of distance between me and the guys. Who was I kidding? I needed room from Stiff.
I turned to the counter just as the bell overhead the door chimed. I lifted my gaze and was about to welcome the next guest when my world stopped. My heart fell, stomach knotted, and anger bubbled in my veins when my sister fell into the door, crashing to the floor, a bruised and bloody mess.
I tossed the tray in my hands to the floor where it clattered loudly, and then I darted for her. The bell chimed again, and two large men stepped through, their eyes fiery, angry.
Instantly altering my direction, I ran behind the counter and grabbed Charlie’s Louisville Slugger. If these assholes took one step near my sister, I was going to start swinging.
Too bad Charlie had the night off. Now would have been a good time for his gun.
“Get out!” I yelled in a bark of anger so loud I shocked myself, the bat weighing heavily in my hand. I wanted to swing it. I’d had practice—Charlie had made sure of it, especially working later at night.
“You Chelsea?” a man asked casually like my sister wasn’t whimpering in pain on the ground. I also heard chairs scraping across the tile, but no way was I taking my eyes off the two buffoons in front of me.
“What’s it to you?” I wasn’t stupid enough to confirm who I was to some thugs. I wasn’t given much growing up, but I was given love and street smarts. Survival had always been key. My momma had done the best she could with us girls, and my grams had helped out, and along the way, she had taught me. I swore, most days, street smarts were better than the book kind.
“Got a message for Gary.”
My father, my fucking piece of shit father, was responsible for this. He hadn’t been around in years, and now this!
My veins burned with lava from the anger I felt toward him. I would fucking kill him. With my own goddamned hands, I’d annihilate him. He’d fucked up my life so damn badly, and I refused to let it happen to my sister.
“Tell him, if he doesn’t get his shit together quick, next time, we take little cherry here.” He pointed to my sister, and I moved in front of her as a guard. No way was he getting any closer to her. He’d have to get through me first. “And you.” He pointed at me. “But next time, we won’t be so nice.” He grabbed his very small junk, making me want to puke. “I would’ve loved to fuck her.” His eyes slithered down my body. “And you.”
“You—”
“What did you just say?” Stiff quipped from my side.
“Who the fuck are you?” guy one in a blue shirt and navy dress slacks demanded in a cocky as hell voice, which I didn’t think would go over well with Stiff and his boys.
“I’m your fuckin’ nightmare, motherfucker.” Stiff pointed at my sister. “You do that shit to her?” he asked as Bosco, Boner, Xander, and Dawg came up, forming a line between my sister, me, and the assholes.
Five against two, this was good. Really good.
“What’s it fuckin’ to ya? This shit ain’t got nothin’ to do with any of you,” the second man in a white dress shirt and black pants said, which wasn’t smart. He had splatters of blood on his shirt— my sister’s blood.
I sucked in deeply through my nose, and my grip on the bat became so tight the pain felt nice.
My sister whimpered.
Not taking my eyes away from the men, I reassured, “It’s alright, Jennifer. I’ve got you.”
“Chels,” she cried, sniffling.
“I know, baby girl, I k
now. Just sit tight.” I moved so my feet were touching Jenn’s body enough for her to know I was there with her, but also keeping my focus on the assholes ahead.
“Motherfucker, answer his fucking question.” This came from Bosco, and while I thought Stiff’s tone had been damn near volcanic levels of anger, Bosco’s reminded me of a grizzly bear. It was almost like Charlie when I’d seen him get pissed—fatherly. Too bad my fucked up father got us into this shit.
The assholes standing by the door showed no fear, which I couldn’t understand since the vibes coming off them weren’t good. Either they didn’t take the men standing next to me seriously, or they were completely stupid. I couldn’t decide which yet.
“Fuck yeah,” the asshole in white with my sister’s blood on him finally answered.
“What did my father do?” I asked, though I had a feeling I knew what it was about. My father had always had a drug problem. Ice, coke—you name it, he took it. It was also his excuse for everything.
Stiff looked at me from the corner of his eye, but I didn’t acknowledge it, keeping my focus on the man in front of me.
“He owes Gonzo. It’s payment time. Either he pays or you do,” the stupid asshole with the dark slacks vowed, sneering at me.
“Motherfucker,” Stiff said with a grunt, tilting his head to his brother. I had no clue what any of that meant.
“Take it out of his ass. We have nothing to do with him,” I stated firmly. Not for the past ten years as a matter of fact. After he’d put my credit in the shitter, he went to jail. Then he’d gotten out and disappeared, and I’d thought, Good riddance.
“Can’t find him.” The asshole laced his fingers, flipped them inside out, then cracked them, trying to be some badass. I mean, come on; he beat up a college student who wouldn’t hurt a damn fly. Me? I would burn the motherfucker.
“Not her fucking problem,” Stiff chimed in.
While I secretly liked his help, I could stand on my own two feet. Considering these were two big guys and I only had a bat, though, I let Stiff take the lead.
“Gonzo says—”
