by Drew Elyse
With the cover of the darkness on my side, I tested the front door. Locked, not surprisingly. There was no clear way to get in through the front without busting out the whole front window. Not a good plan.
Around the back, I found a patio leading to a pair of French doors. Perfect. I slipped the lock pick from my pocket. I wasn’t Slick, who could get into anything with a lock, but simple handle locks like those were in my wheelhouse. It took a few minutes of fussing, but the latch popped open without me having to break anything.
Palming my Glock, I moved through the house as quietly as possible. The place was exactly as it was the last time I’d seen it—fucking immaculate. It didn’t even look lived in. I searched room after room, finding nothing but uncomfortable looking furniture and random crap designed to make the place look stuffy. I paused in the room Cami had let me change in that first day. It was exactly as I remembered. That big ass guest bed had made me want to throw her down and fuck her until I had to come up for air. At that thought, I realized I was popping a boner in the middle of breaking into a fucking house.
I needed to eat and get some damn sleep.
I got back to it. Room after room, I found nothing. I’d finished my search of the basement when my phone went off. It didn’t matter if it made a sound at that point. Natey-boy was definitely not home.
“Gauge,” I answered.
“Gauge,” Stacey started, sounding distressed. A month ago—hell, even just over a day ago—that sound would have had me ready to roll. After the blow up with Cami, I wanted to hang up.
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“Um…well…” she trailed off, sounding like she was breathing hard.
“Stacey, spit it out.”
“I think I’m in labor.”
The bed in the hotel room I had gotten was actually quite incredible. In another situation, I would have marveled at the thing. I could imagine being there with Gauge. He would complain about how feminine the decorations were and how the whole room carried the scent of flowers, but he would let it go once we were both in the bed. Then we could spend some time thoroughly enjoying the luxurious mattress and ultra-soft sheets.
Alright, that train of thought was not helpful.
I had been at the hotel since late the night before. When I left Gauge’s, I drove around for hours, trying to figure out my next move. My instinct was to go to my dad, but I did not want to put him in that position. That exact situation was one I had feared finding ourselves in when Gauge and I first started. Dad and Gauge were brothers. Sharing the Disciples’ patch was a sacred bond. The brothers trusted each other implicitly. The last thing I wanted was to damage that relationship.
Still, there may not have been a way around that. I was not entirely sure Gauge and I could fix things as they were. He refused to acknowledge my concerns about Stacey, and he essentially called me a bitch. That kind of thing didn’t go away. Not to mention the fact that I had yet to hear from him at all twenty-four hours later. Maybe he was done. Maybe that fight was his idea of breaking things off.
My day had been spent in bed, alternating between being furious, feeling miserable, and having pitiful fantasies of him showing up to apologize, begging me to come back—yeah, not the most realistic image.
I was still lying in that plush bed, contemplating whether my three naps throughout the day were going to make sleep impossible, when my phone rang. It was Deni.
“Oh my god. I just heard,” she started right away. “How’re you taking it?”
She had already heard? What, was Gauge back to his old ways so fast? Did he just turn around and forget me with the first club skank who looked his way?
“You heard?” I asked.
“Yeah, Slick got home and told me. I mean, you told me your ex was a dick, but—”
“Wait. What?”
“Your ex, Nathaniel. You said he’d been controlling and an asshole, but I had no idea he’d go so far. God, he has to be a moron to try to take on the club that way,” Deni attempted to clarify, leaving me more vexed than before.
“Deni, hun, you need to slow down and explain what you’re talking about,” I stressed.
“You don’t know? Gauge hasn’t told you yet?”
“Would you please just tell me what’s happening?” I blurted.
“Right. Sorry. Slick said Nathaniel hired some guy to track the club. He was supposed to find dirt on Gauge and turn it over to the feds,” Deni finally explained.
“He did what?” I half-shouted.
“Yeah, the guys caught the private investigator he hired and interrogated him. Apparently, Gauge lost it on him and drove a knife right through the guy’s hand,” she went on.
“Holy shit,” I muttered.
“I can’t believe Gauge hasn’t told you,” she reiterated.
“Yeah…” I hesitated, unsure whether I should say anything. Then I realized Deni was the only friend I actually had to turn to. “Well, there’s actually a reason for that…”
I proceeded to lay it out for her, telling her everything from talking to Slick after she fell asleep right up through walking out on Gauge the night before. I tried with everything in me to hold it together through the story, but I fell apart by the end. Saying it all, reliving the entire thing, broke down whatever flimsy barrier I’d erected. By the end of it, I was very close to sobbing into the phone.
“Where are you? I’m coming to get you,” Deni declared when I was finished.
“No. Really, I’m okay. You have a baby,” I tried to talk her down.
“Yes, and Slick can watch her for a while. He is her daddy,” she reminded me. “Or you can come here. You’re always welcome.”
“I thought…” I sighed, realizing only then how pathetic the next words out of my mouth were going to be. “I thought Gauge would look for me there, but he hasn’t even called.”
“Honey, give me half an hour and I’ll be there, okay?”
There was a long pause, in which I considered protesting, but I had no fight left in me. “Okay. I’ll text you the address.”
While I waited for her to get there, I decided to make myself somewhat presentable. I had actually dragged myself into the bathroom for a shower that morning, but the bedhead from lying around all day and the crying jag I had made me feel like I could do with freshening up a bit. I started with my rat’s nest of a hairstyle, taking several minutes to work the tangles out. After that, I washed my face and brushed my teeth. I considered the utility of makeup, but decided against it. It was Deni. She wouldn’t judge me.
I slipped on a new pair of pajama pants and a camisole I had bought the night before after checking into the hotel. It had taken me that long to realize I had not packed a thing before leaving Gauge’s apartment. I briefly considered grabbing one of the actual pair of pants from the folded pile on the desk, until I realized it was pointless. In all likelihood, I would be crying again before the night was out. If Deni was going to see that, it really did not matter what sort of pants I had on.
It seemed I had dragged through those simple tasks. I was finally dressed not long before there was a knock at the door. I checked the peephole first, finding Deni smiling at me. It was probably an act for my sake. I can’t imagine many people being truly happy about driving across town late at night to comfort their heartbroken friend while they have a baby at home, but it was a much-appreciated act.
I opened the door and Deni immediately engulfed me in a hug. Never in my life had I been much of a touchy-feely person, but that hug was comforting in a way I could not put into words. Only once Deni wrapped her arms around me did I realize not only how alone I had felt all day, but how removed I had felt trying to keep my feelings from Gauge. Those feelings only piled on to the years I had felt completely isolated while I was with Nathaniel. I could not take any more of that loneliness.
“Thanks for coming,” I said without letting go.
“Of course,” she answered. “You’re my best friend.”
Best friend. I had no
t had or been one in years—maybe not since I became best friends with Sally Mason one day on the playground in third grade. I had plenty of friends through high school and college, but no one so close I would call them my best friend. How had I made it for so long without one?
After a long moment of soaking up the comfort Deni offered, I stepped back and let her come in. I noticed the uncharacteristically large purse she was carrying, and she answered my question before I could ask.
“Number one: I need to change into my own jammies,” she said, producing a pair of flannel pants from her bag. She went right into the bathroom and changed into the pink on pink pants. When she emerged, she continued, “Number two: where’s the room service menu? Hopefully, we can still order up some food before they close the kitchen.”
I pulled the menu from the drawer of the desk, passing it over to her and laughing when she instantly started a long list of things to order. “You sound like you’re still pregnant.”
“What can I say? Being a new mom is stressful. I forget to eat sometimes. So when I do, I pig out.” She shrugged and kept looking down the list of foods. “Ooh! They have flourless chocolate cake. Score.”
All said and done, we ended up ordering seven plates of food and a bottle of Moscato d’Asti. The wine was at Deni’s insistence. She’d apparently pumped enough for Jules to be fed until the alcohol left her system before leaving the house.
“I need some wine. It’s been over a year since I last had wine. Do you know what that does to a person?” When she put it like that, how could I argue?
We settled onto the bed, flipping through the movies for rent on the TV. “This bed is seriously fabulous,” Deni said on a sigh. “I should stay here forever.”
“What about Slick and Jules?”
“They can come visit me here.”
“Alright, but you are not keeping the room in my name forever. I think my credit card would shred itself up.”
She gave me a pouty face and said, “But if it’s on my card, Slick can stop the payments.”
“Sorry, that is a fight you have to have with him.”
“I guess this is just a short interlude, sweet bed,” she said to the mattress as she patted it.
Our food was delivered surprisingly quickly and devoured faster than either of us would probably care to admit. Deni did not press for anything from me, but let me throw out the random thoughts in my head freely. Things like, “I never even felt like I had a claim on the apartment until he made it clear I did not,” and, “I wonder if the whole thing was a bad idea, what with both of our connections to the club.” She responded when it was called for and offered nonverbal acknowledgements when it was unnecessary.
It was not until much later, when we were both lying on the bed, suppressing the urge to fall into food comas while the Barden Bellas harmonized in an empty pool, that she actually sought out any information.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course,” I responded. Hell, after dropping everything to sit and pig out with me all night, she could ask for a kidney if she needed it.
“If Gauge did show up right now, what would you do?”
I had to think about that. The different sides of me—the irate one, the sullen one, and the love struck one—that had been fighting for dominance of my emotional reaction all day came out with fists taped, ready to fight.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I would like to say it would take quite the apology to get me to turn around, but I worry that might not be true. I love him, and I worry it would make me do something stupid.”
She looked at me with nothing but understanding. “I think you may need to think on that a bit. I can’t say what Gauge will do, but you need to decide what it would really take for you to forgive him. If you don’t, you might accept less than you want and end up upset about that later. He might be giving you space to deal with this before he comes to you, and you should take advantage of that.”
She was right. She was so absolutely right. I was doing neither of us any favors by not knowing where I stood. That rashness may have even been part of the problem we were having. I had no plan when I spoke up about Stacey, no good way to say it, and no expectation of what revealing that issue would do. I needed to be more levelheaded than that. Spontaneity and affection could be deadly bedmates in a situation like ours.
Eventually, Deni’s yawns went from well-spaced to quick succession. “I should get home before I crash,” she said.
“Are you sure you should drive?” She had consumed her fair share of the wine—or a bit more than that.
“Oh, I’m not,” she answered. “Slick had Sketch to drop me off and ordered that I call for a ride home.”
“Smart man, that husband of yours.”
“Don’t let him hear you say that,” she whispered as though he were in the next room.
Deni called for her ride and opted not to change back into her jeans before leaving. “They’re so confining and sad. Like a tiny, little jail cell,” she said.
When she finally got a text saying her chariot was waiting, it was nearly one in the morning. I made a mental note to do something nice for Slick, who no doubt did not appreciate me commandeering his wife all night and leaving him with the baby.
“Promise you’ll call if you need me,” Deni demanded before she would leave.
“I promise.”
She searched my face for traces of deceit—and I really wanted to comment on how much of a mom she was already. Obviously satisfied with what she saw, she finally turned and headed out.
I got back into the bed, downing the last few sips of wine and flipping aimlessly through the channels. I settled on sitcom reruns and drifted off. When my phone rang, I reached for it with sluggish arms and answered blindly.
“Hello?”
“The baby is coming,” said Deni’s sleepy voice.
For a moment, I was completely lost. I even thought she might be talking about Jules, but that made no sense. Then, my mind finally caught up and processed what she was saying.
Stacey was in labor.
“Oh,” I muttered stupidly.
“I thought you should know,” she said. “If he doesn’t contact you soon, there’s a lot going on for him.”
I placated her by confirming I knew that and insisted I was alright so she would hang up and go to bed. Meanwhile, all I could think was Gauge would not be contacting me because his life was about to change in a huge way.
And I had no idea what my role would be in it anymore.
Getting to the hospital was a blur of speeding down nearly deserted roads. It was honestly dumb luck I hadn’t wrecked the Chevelle. I remembered blowing at least one light on the far edge of town. Guess it was fortunate I hadn’t gotten pulled over either.
I sent a call to Ham on the way, shouting that Stacey was having the baby into the speakerphone. He needed nothing else; he was mobilizing. I needed at least a couple of my brothers to have my back in that hospital. If anything went wrong, I was liable to go off.
Reproachful glares met my charge into the emergency room, but I couldn’t give a fuck. The woman behind the desk, a stout brunette with a strained smile on her face, seemed prepared for me to start spouting something about a violent injury to myself or someone else.
