I speak with my brother and parents daily; they're still trying to talk me into moving back to Chicago, but I can't. They don't understand my need to walk away. They support me, and I know they always will, but I wish they were able to understand it as well. Gramps doesn’t say much about me to them. I assume he wants to stay away from any problems as he always has. I know they’re frustrated. Every time my mom asks when I'm coming home and I say never, it breaks her heart all over again, and if there is one person I can’t stand to see hurt, it's her.
Sitting in the bar tonight is a welcome distraction. Over the past week, I've concluded I'm not the only one here that has a few issues. It’s driving me up the wall trying to figure out why Nicola ran out of the bar the other night. I haven’t done anything to scare her as far as I’m concerned. Maybe she's just afraid of her own shadow. I thought about asking Jean what Nicola’s issue was, but in the off-chance that it ends up making its way back around, I’ve held off. The last thing I need is for Nicola to think I'm interested.
It's funny because, unlike my brother and cousins, I actually wanted to find a relationship like the one my parents have. But no matter how many women I fuck, I can’t seem to find her. Now I'm not looking for anything; that dream of a wife and kids is a fantasy of the ‘pre-gunshot Gavin.’ I would not bring a child into this shitty world, and I’m far too empty to offer anything useful to a wife.
Needing to get out of my own head again, I decide to go check the parking lot and breathe some fresh air. We've not had any issues here, but car break-ins are common in any city- especially at a bar. As I walk the length of the small parking lot in this bitter December cold, I feel like kicking myself for wearing a thin white t-shirt and flimsy little jacket. I'm unable to keep myself from shivering so I do a quick once over of the lot for the last time, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, so I turn to head back towards the door. I grab the frostbitten handle and stop to take one last deep breath in the cold, fresh air before letting the door fall closed behind me.
“Please stop sir, I’m not interested,” I hear the panicked, timid voice of Nicola behind me and I turn quickly to see a younger looking guy sitting at the bar with his hand sitting forcefully on top of hers as she tried to pull away. I decide to give them a moment or two, maybe he’s just had one too many. I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and not kick his ass if he walks out right now, but he doesn’t budge and I can see the way he’s looking at her. Hell, it’s making my own skin crawl. Ah shit, here goes.
Chapter 5
Nicola
Serving drunken men always has its risks involved. I don't mind the flirty drunk hug every now and then because it's always been harmless. After a few beers, some of them become a little touchy. That’s how it goes from time to time.
But this man, Sam, has overstepped boundaries before. There have been sexual innuendos and the occasional denied request for sexual favors, but he's always been hands off- until tonight. When I set down the beer he ordered, he took my hand before I could turn and walk the other way, “Come on sugar, a few minutes with me and you won't walk right for a week!” He bragged with a bellowing, drunken chuckle that filled the once quiet room with unwanted sound.
I try to decline politely, but it seemed to only fuel his desire and fill it with anger as he squeezes harder on my already color-drained hand, as if he’s a scared child walking to Kindergarten with his mother.
“We got a problem here?” Gavin asks calmly, walking up slowly enough to make sure he seems non-threatening.
I try to make eye contact with Gavin to give him a silent ‘hell yes we have a problem here,’ but his eyes haven’t left Sam’s once and for some reason, that makes me feel better. A little anyway. I can at least tell he’s going to handle the problem.
“Fuck off asshole. There are plenty of other women here for you.” Sam responds without taking his eyes off of Gavin once, and my own eyes immediately fly back to Gavin. Sam’s grip doesn’t even soften and I notice his rough hand and short, dirty nails. I picture him working some grueling blue-collar job.
“I will fuck off, right after you've let go of this nice lady’s hand and leave the bar in a respectable manner.” Gavin says calmly as he nods his head in the direction of the door.
Sam lets go of my hand and jumps out of his seat ready to fight. His body is braced and his fists are clenched as he bumps his chest to Gavin’s; but Gavin doesn’t budge. I’m surprised at Sam’s audacity, considering he’s probably twenty years older than Gavin unless a hard life has aged him quickly. And, although he’s a big man, he has to look up at Gavin.
“Back off man.” Gavin warns, his voice and his body reflecting not even a single ounce of fear or recoil. The way he's standing exudes confidence; it’s almost cocky. As if he knows there’s no possible way he would be losing this fight if it were to come to blows.
“Back off? How about you buzz off and let me get back to business,” Sam demands, looking back in what he must think is my direction. The poor guy is so drunk that he can’t stand still.
With a small roll of his eyes, Gavin turns to me, “Nicola, do you and this jerk-off have business to get back to?”
I shake my head no quickly; for some reason I can’t bring myself to find my own voice.
“See? You've got no business here.” Gavin says and he takes Sam by the elbow, ushering him out the door.
I wipe my sweaty hands on my soft pink t-shirt thinking I’ll take it to the laundromat tomorrow. I go wash my hands and take a deep breath, trying not to remember when my everyday life felt a little like this.
Gavin
After Sam called his wife, yes his wife, for a pickup I sighed in frustration wondering if that young woman realizes what kind of man she’s married to. I don't understand. How can women be so completely blind?
When I walk back inside, the last few stragglers are closing out their tabs and beginning to leave. I'm going to need a drink myself this evening. Since it's an hour before closing and the last patrons have left, I decide to go ahead and do it now. The work for today is mostly done.
“Nicola, could I get a beer from you?”
She eyes me for a moment and then offers a little smile before saying softly, “Sure, what would you like?”
“Whatever's closest to you.”
She opens the ice chest and hands me a Budweiser. I twist the top off slowly and raise it slightly in thanks. I let out a sigh before taking the first sip. It's been months since I've had a single drink. I wasn't allowed to with all the medications after my stroke and I know this might sound a little crazy, but this beer is more than just a beer. It's a reminder that I'm back and in better physical condition than ever before. So, I'm going to take my time and enjoy this.
“Thank you so much Gavin.” Nicola whispers.
“No big deal. Is he always like that?” I hope he’s not, just for the simple fact that she’s never asked for help before.
She shakes her head no and continues to count the money inside the drawer. This gives me plenty of time to study her face. From what I can tell, Nicola is exhausted. She's got dark bags under her eyes which tells me she isn't sleeping well but moving above those, her eyes I can see clearly for the first time, they're hazel with flecks of gold and green and they shine in a way that would make me want to hold her hand too if I was drunk. But her mouth is pressed in a hard line almost like it's permanently in a state of solemnity. All of these conflicting features leave me wondering who she is and how she got here. She doesn't seem to be one who just opens up, so I decide to ask a simple question to begin.
“How long have you worked here Nicola?”
Her head snaps up and she eyes me suspiciously, looking up and down as if I’m going to report back to someone. Damn, I thought that was an easy question, what the hell is going on with her? After a long pause, she finally decides on an answer, “Not too long.”
Clearly, she doesn't want to talk, so I won't push any further for now. I down the beer I had planned
to enjoy so I can give her the space she so clearly is hoping for. But the moment I put the bottle on the bar and push my chair back, I hear her clear her throat. I wait patiently because I know she's ready to talk and my patience has finally paid off, after a few moments of silence, she says to me, “How did you do that with Sam?”
“What do you mean?” I ask confused.
“When he bumped your chest, he was ready to fight. But you didn't even flinch. And that day in the shed, you took that stick from me in a split second without a moment’s thought. How do you not show fear? Are you actually not afraid or just really good at hiding it?”
This is the most I’ve heard Nicola talk, and I realize I like her voice. It’s not the quiet, shaky voice now. It seems a little more alive and curious, and I want her to keep talking.
“What was there for me to be afraid of? Sam?” I laugh at the thought. He's a big boy but he was drunk, and he most likely hasn’t seen a gym since high school. I continue when I can see that she’s disappointed in my reaction, “Is there a reason for this specific question? I mean, are you worried Sam might be escalating? Because I can promise you, he won't bother you again.” I think about how hard I kneed him in the groin after warning him to stay away in the parking lot as we waited for his wife. Maybe it was a bit harsh, but he was calling her all sorts of names. From ‘chubby whore’ all the way to ‘a tease.’ I don't know Nicola, but I can say by now that I know she isn't a chubby whore; she's just a woman with the curves of one. And I've watched her behind the bar more than a few times and I haven't once seen her flirting or laughing with patrons. Also, it bothered me that he spoke of her that way after she has done nothing to deserve it other than not being interested.
“Well it is a bar, you just never know what people will do when they're drunk,” she says brushing off her question as she turns and grabs the clean glasses out of the glass rack. For some reason, I feel like I'm missing something big.
“Nicola, the only way for you to be strong and confident is for you to not feel like you're weak. It's all in your head. Find out what's holding you back and let go of it.” I half laugh at the irony of what I’m telling her to do. I could work wonders if I took my own advice from time to time.
Chapter 6
Nicola
I’m restless tonight with Gavin’s words on repeat in my head. Find out what's holding you back and let it go. Tonight when Sam grabbed ahold of my hand, I froze up because, as sad as it is to admit, I do feel weak. But I have to find a way to get past it, not just for my sake but most of all, for Allison’s. I never want her to know the kind of pain and heartache that comes along with the type of living I’ve been doing thus far, but the only way to do that is to lead by example into a better life for her. For the both of us.
I still don't know what Gavin’s story is, but what I do know is that he can help me. I thought about asking him to share a few defensive moves… just in case I ever end up needing them.
Watching the way he handled the whole Sam situation, I was envious. I found myself wishing that I was capable enough to defend myself, although it’s not so much Sam that I’m worried about.
I can't help but feel a little paranoid, it’s been so quiet without Jason around that I'm constantly wondering when the other shoe is gonna drop. What will I do if he shows up? I don't know how much longer we’ll be able to stay hidden away, and if the time comes, I need to have a plan of attack. Just thinking about it has my stomach in knots.
There were so many moments in our marriage when I wondered what went wrong. I didn't walk down the aisle and knowingly marry the devil; I don’t know that anyone does. We first met when he was a junior in college and I was a freshman. He was the first guy to ever show any interest in me. In high school, I was on the chunkier side, and I wasn’t necessarily one of the cool kids. I enjoyed books and spent most days studying; I never played sports either so on all accounts, I was a social outcast. The summer before college I started to diet and walk miles every day, I lost twenty pounds that summer. I started to hold my head a little higher and took more of an interest in fashion. I even started flirting a little bit. I could look a cute guy in the eyes and smile for the first time, thinking he might actually like me. On the first day of classes, I saw him sitting under a tree reading; he looked up from his book and smiled at me and that was it.
We married the following year after he graduated. I dropped out of college to follow him to New York after he landed an internship at a stock exchange company. It was exciting to watch him flourish and we danced around our tiny living room when he was offered a full-time job on Wall Street. I thought the love and dedication we had for each other would never end but a few years later I found lipstick on his shirt. It was bright red, gaudy, and didn’t belong to me. I forgave him and I believed him when he said he was sorry, but thinking back on it, I didn’t really have a choice. I was stranded in New York without a job, a degree, or a single person to lean on other than him.
I found out the affair, or affairs rather, hadn't ended two years later. I gave him an ultimatum either them or me; I was sure this would solve the problem. He would choose me; he had to. He was my universe after all. But much to my surprise, he landed his first punch, resulting in a big bruise on my cheek. I offered an explanation, even when no one asked. I’d never run into a doorframe before, I’d laugh. I got pretty good at playing it off. Even then, I still loved him and I attributed it to the fact that he wasn’t like this before. We were six years into our marriage the first time he’d laid a hand on me. What else could the problem be other than me?
Gavin
My eyes have been glued to Nicola all night. I can’t figure out what’s going on with her. I spent the better half of last night tossing and turning; playing up every possible scenario I could think of. What's got her so jumpy? Bad childhood? Absent father? She isn't wearing a wedding band so her husband isn’t beating her. Maybe she was just bullied as a teenager and carries a chip on her shoulder or something.
A couple weeks ago, I didn't give a damn about anyone else's well being, but now I don't know. I find myself wanting to unwrap the mystery that is Nicola more and more. The real problem is that she’s so skittish; she isn't really even approachable. If I say something without looking her straight in the eyes, she jumps about ten feet in the air, so starting spontaneous conversation is proving to be difficult.
I can’t seem to focus on doing my job today. Thankfully, it went by pretty quickly and everyone is gone for the night. Following my same old routine, I grab a stool near the end of the bar and pull out my phone to send a text to my mom and to my cousin Landon who is about to deploy again. But I’m caught off guard when Nicola clears her throat suggestively; I look up only to realize she’s staring straight at me. My heart quickens a little and I send a silent ‘thank you’ to the universe. Maybe she’s finally coming around.
“Gavin?” She whispers with uncertainty.
“Yeah?”
“I was wondering. I mean... if you can't it's no big deal.” She mumbles twirling her thumbs, breaking eye contact with me. I can tell she's about to lose the nerve to say whatever it is because she exhales deeply and starts to turn away.
“What's up?” I encourage her, feeling hopeful for what’s to come. I wonder if there’s some asshole customer I haven’t noticed. Or maybe a creepy neighbor. I want to tell her to just spill it, but I have a feeling she wouldn’t respond well to that.
She shifts from foot to foot and takes another deep breath. I notice she’s wearing a v-neck and it's hanging suggestively over her cleavage, if she were to lean down a bit I could see more. “Well I was wondering if maybe... you could show me a couple of self-defense moves?” I’m taken aback instantly.
“Who's bothering you?” I ask her, head cocked to the side in confusion. She must’ve mistaken my concerned reaction for disdain because she shakes her head and looks back down before she continues in what could be a whisper, “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you with it.”
“Nicola, I'm not bothered, and of course I can show you a few ways to prepare for danger. But what danger is there? Am I missing something?”
She stares at the floor like it’s the only comfortable thing she knows, and before she even begins to speak I know whatever she’s about to say won’t be the whole truth. I’m trying so hard to unwrap the layers of barbed wire she has tangled around herself and the fact that I even cared to notice them in the first place catches me off guard. I have this overwhelming urge to change her life in some way; I’d rather be the one protecting her instead of showing her how to protect herself.
“I just think those skills are nice to have. You never know what's out there.”
I shoot her my best ‘Officer Gavin’ stare to let her know that she’s not getting anything by me, but she just clears her throat, says “Thanks, Gavin” and walks back behind the bar.
Building an even bigger wall between her and myself but I let it go for now, she shared a little bit with me. She doesn’t feel safe, and I’m glad she told me but it raises a whole second set of questions. I hold myself off and keep quiet for the night. One layer at a time, Stone, one layer at a time.
Chapter 7
Nicola
I’m left in awe of Gavin's confidence for the third time since I’ve met him. When I finally got up the courage to ask for help, without a second thought, he said, “Of course I can show you.” Simple as that, and I have no doubt that he’ll be able to. I've been living my life in fear and I’m only thirty-five years old, I swear up and down to myself in this moment that I will not be a victim at thirty-six.
Gavin (Made From Stone Book 2) Page 3
