by Faith Gibson
The touch of her fingers as she gathers up strands of hair is almost as relaxing as the shampoo. It doesn’t appear that she’s cutting very much, but I did tell her a trim. When she’s finished with my hair, she asks, “Is this okay?”
“Perfect,” I tell her reflection. Of course, I’m talking about her and not my hair. Lexie smiles and goes to work on my beard. I close my eyes, something I find myself doing a lot around her. Not watching, just feeling. Letting this woman have control over me. I allow myself to believe the illusion that what she and I have can be a real thing. That after this is over she won’t hate me. Or wish I was back in the hell hole I crawled out of before I ruined her life. Instead, she’ll thank me for getting her away from an abusive husband.
As with my hair, her fingers on my face are soothing as she lifts the whiskers up to trim them. The tug then snip is hypnotic, lulling me into a sense of peace I haven’t felt in a long damn time. When she places both her hands on my shoulders, I open my eyes and stare at my face in the mirror. I almost look respectable. Almost.
“What do you think?” she asks, biting her bottom lip. My eyes are drawn away from my beard to her mouth. I remember her biting my bottom lip, and call on my control to not get a hard-on.
“What do you think?” I counter.
“Perfect,” she whispers, tossing my word back at me. Lexie blinks, breaking eye contact. She brushes the stray hair off my shoulders and neck before removing the cape. I don’t ask her how much. I hand her a folded up Benjamin, wrapping her fingers over the money, lingering longer than I should in public.
“Until next time,” I whisper against her ear as I’m standing. I don’t look back, but I feel her eyes on me as I walk out the front door.
My hair isn’t much different than it was when I walked in the salon. My beard and mustache are much shorter, and now I don’t bite the whiskers every time I open my mouth. I can’t wait until the next time I get Lexie alone. I’m going to let her try out her handiwork. See if she prefers the shorter version between her legs and on her lips. While I admired her for saying no to me the first time I asked her to let me fuck her, I’ll admire her even more when I have her body underneath mine. Surrounding me. Skin to smooth fucking skin. I’m already going to hell for the things I’m doing and the things I’m going to do. That doesn’t scare me. Not having Lexie Murdock when all is said and done frightens me to the point I can’t breathe sometimes. I’m becoming obsessed with her. I want to make her mine.
That’s my dick talking, because my brain is reminding me there will be no happy endings for anyone when I get my revenge. I know in my gut I won’t get the thirteen years back I spent in prison. I know I won’t feel better, not really. Yet I have every intention of ruining several lives because mine was ruined. I hate that Lexie is going to get caught in the crossfire. If I could take Murdock down and leave her out of it, I would. I would love to be there to catch her when she falls. I don’t feel nearly as bad about Amanda. There’s something about her that rubs me the wrong way. She’s too eager to see me. Too willing to cheat on her husband. I get that he’s a prick and a sadistic one at that, but Amanda isn’t Lexie.
I need to prepare myself for Lexie walking away when she finds out it’s me who ruins her life. Because she will walk. I’ve asked myself more than once if having her hate me will be worth it in the end. When I walked out of the prison and tasted freedom, my answer would have been yes. Now, I’m doubting myself, and I can’t have that.
All because of a woman.
A woman who has made me forget her on more than one occasion. It isn’t my wife’s face I see when I jack off at night. It isn’t her body I’m longing to slide my hard cock into. It isn’t her tits I want to nestle my face in while I’m fucking her gently. It’s someone else’s wife. Lexie hasn’t left her dickhead husband who abuses her, so why I think she will leave him after my plan has played out is nothing more than my dick lying to my brain.
I can’t figure out why I’m so drawn to her. Hell, I haven’t even fucked her. If I ever get to sink inside her body, I might not recover. The hold she has on me now is so strong it’s making me do stupid shit. I already want her so badly that I’ve gone to see her in broad daylight, risking everything. It’s not like I’m prepared for a life of happily co-habitating bliss. I’m not that man anymore. I have nothing to offer a woman like her. The shit I’ve done and the shit I’m going to do is better serving a woman like Violet. Someone who didn’t flinch when I asked her to fuck another man for money. Someone who can fuck that man then come back and fuck me after without batting an eyelash. That’s the kind of woman I deserve, but she’s not the kind I want. I fucking want Lexie Murdock. So why am I not doing everything I can to make her mine instead of pushing her away?
Revenge.
I need it worse than I need her.
By the time I get home, Jared is already in the garage out back, and there are four Harleys in the driveway. I park the SS and head that way to see what’s going on. The radio is blaring, and five bikers are standing over Jared with beers in their hands while he adjusts something on a bike. When Zeus jumps up and runs my way, all eyes follow. I tip my chin in greeting while I squat down to give the dog some love. When he’s satisfied, I rise to my feet and continue on to where they are standing. One of the men gives me a shit-eating grin before pulling me in for a bro hug. Buddha pretends he hasn’t seen me in a few weeks. When he lets go of my neck, he reaches into the fridge and pulls out another beer, handing it over to me. I pop the top and take a long swig while he introduces me to the other four members of Death’s Rejects. When they go back to jawing with Jared, Buddha puts his arm around my shoulder and walks me away from the others.
“You look different,” Buddha says.
“Yeah? I’ve been getting pussy; that might be it,” I joke. “I went to see Lexie Murdock. She gave me a makeover.”
“I knew Lexie a long time ago. Even dated her for about six months in high school. Drove her parents crazy when she climbed on the back of my bike.” Buddha’s lost in his memory, and I have to hold myself back from knocking his fucking head off. I don’t give two shits if this was twenty years ago. I don’t want to think about Lexie with anyone but me.
“Hey, before you get any more pissed than you are, I never got any of that pussy. Believe it or not, I had respect back then. And since we’re on the subject, why exactly are you acting like I dipped my dick into your property? Are you falling for her? She is a beautiful woman.”
“No, I just… Fuck, Rod. I don’t know what I am. She’s got me all kinds of twisted.”
“Would that be such a bad thing? You’re making sure her dickhead husband goes away for good. Why not be there to pick up the pieces? You could do a helluva lot worse.”
“For one, she deserves better than me. Two, she won’t want anything to do with me when she knows I’m the one to take him down. I’m going to enjoy her while I can and walk away when this shit’s over.” I change the subject to something safer, and we spend the next half hour reminiscing and talking shit about prison and life in general. “When are you gonna have Wolf build you a bike?” Buddha asks.
“When I’m comfortable in the saddle. So far, I’ve only been on two wheels a couple of times. I plan on doing more riding when all is said and done. I know it can’t be that hard if you can do it,” I joke, and he sucker punches me in the arm.
“Seriously. You’d look right at home on a chopper. You ever think of joining the brotherhood?”
“Nah. I have too much going on right now, and making plans for the future is kind of a moot point until shit is settled.” I don’t have to elaborate on what shit I’m referring to. Buddha knows more about what I have going on after hours than anyone. Besides Damian, he’s doing as much to help keep things rolling as I am. Buddha has more liberties with his time, and he has a lot of contacts who don’t ask questions when he calls in a favor.
A sharp whistle rents the air, and we both look toward the garage. Jared’s finished wi
th the repair, and Buddha’s brothers are ready to ride. He claps me on the shoulder. “I’ll be talking to you real soon. Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I give him our familiar handshake, and he strolls to his bike, slinging a long, beefy leg over the seat. I’m pretty sure Jared had to adjust the tension on the shocks so they could handle Buddha’s weight. Did I mention he’s one big motherfucker? The rumble of the bikes reverberates through my chest as the five of them motor out the driveway and down the road.
Chapter 18
Cass
It’s been almost two months since I was sprung from prison. I love working with Jared at the shop. Getting grease under my fingernails gives me a sense of pride. Makes me feel like I’m accomplishing something. I’ve gotten into a routine for the most part. Work takes up most of my time, but I still find time for those things that will get my revenge and, hopefully, my life back. My house will be empty in less than a week unless I decide to move back into it. Maybe I should sell it and buy something else. I have no doubts the memories will drown me as soon as I step foot in the front door. Memories of what was and what should have been. I’m stronger than I’ve ever been in my life, both physically and mentally, but I still don’t know if I’m strong enough to relive the pain every fucking day.
Probably not.
Jared’s sitting at the table staring at nothing when I walk into the kitchen. I pour a cup of coffee and sit down next to him. He looks at me with a haunted look in his eyes. “Can you open the shop today?” he asks.
“Sure.” As far as I know, Jared has never not shown up to work, so something must really be bothering him. I don’t think he’s sick, but I would never know unless he had the flu or some shit that was apparent by coughing and sneezing.
“It was twenty years ago, and I still can’t get over it.”
Holy fuck. Today’s the anniversary of the day he lost his wife and baby. Twenty fucking years, and he’s still grieving. Should I not feel the same way he does? It’s only been thirteen years instead of twenty since I lost her and my baby, but I don’t fall apart on that day every year. I haven’t fallen apart in a long damn time, but maybe it’s because of the circumstances surrounding what happened and me going to fucking jail for it. Was my wife’s death tragic? Sure as fuck was, but I wasn’t able to sit at home and look at pictures reminding me of what we had. I didn’t sleep in the same bed we shared the two years before. I didn’t have to box up her things and give them to charity. I didn’t have to paint over the nursery and grieve over the baby we never had.
I was fucking accused, tried, and sentenced to thirty years in prison for what was done to her. I had to deal with that shit on top of trying to keep my sanity while staying alive on the inside. Jared knows I know a little about what he’s going through. We’ve talked about it. But I’ve never once felt the same sense of despondency I see on my cousin’s face right now. I don’t think it’s because he loved Gina any more than I loved my wife. I think I was busy trying to stay alive and didn’t have time to dwell on the sadness.
“I was just thinking about the house and whether or not I can move back into it,” I admit. “I don’t think I can, if I’m being honest.”
“I get that. It’s why I sold our old house and moved out here. I went back one time, and that was long enough to get my shit packed up. The rest I hired out. I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t look at all her shit while I thought about the last time she’d worn a certain shirt, or the last time I’d smelled her perfume that was sitting on the dresser. I sure as fuck couldn’t pack up the baby’s room. If I’d had to do that… fuck, Cass, I think I’d have slit my wrists all over that pink shit.”
“Do you ever think you and I are cursed? I mean we both lost our women in a tragic way. I’m not comparing my loss to yours, but–”
“Stop it. I know you’re not comparing, but don’t downplay your loss. You might have been young, but you loved her. Maybe we are cursed. I often feel like I lost Gina because of some cosmic bullshit paying me back for being me.”
“Then what’s the fucking point of trying to do good? To be good? If that’s what it gets you, then the world can fucking keep good.” How many times had I asked myself that same question over the years? I was about as good as a man can get, and look what it got me.
“I wish I could answer that. It’s a conversation I had with our mothers when I more or less told yours to go fuck herself.”
“Say what?” Jared had never mentioned any such conversation with my mother.
“I was packing up your things when our mothers stopped at your house. I told her she wasn’t welcome. She said as your mother she had a right to the things she’d given you over the years. I’ve never hit a woman in my life, but I have to tell you, I came close that day. Almost as close as the day she spouted that shit about me losing Gina being God’s will. I let her know that she didn’t have a right to shit considering she’d turned her back on you. I asked her if she honestly thought someone as good as you were could possibly have done what you were accused of. She said, ‘but the evidence,’ and I shouted, ‘fuck the evidence and think about your son for a second’. Needless to say, she and I haven’t spoken since. And so you know, she left without a single goddamn thing of yours. You’d already told me what you wanted to keep. That shit’s still boxed up waiting for you in your attic.”
“What a piece of work. Thanks for having my back, Jared. You don’t know what that means.”
“Yeah, I actually do. Been down that road, remember?” Jared had done time, but it was for petty shit when he was younger. He had the backing of his MC friends.
Jared stands. “I’m gonna head outside to the garage for a bit.”
When he gets to the door, I call out, “Jared, if you need me, for anything, just call.”
He turns to me with those dead eyes and nods. I down the rest of my coffee and head to the shower. I have plenty to do to keep me busy at work, and afterwards, I’m going to stop by my house and talk to the tenants.
The day flies by, probably because I was dreading going to my house. If it had been something I’d been looking forward to, time would have crawled. I’m sitting at the curb looking at the house, trying to gather the nerve to get out of the car. I’ve already called to make sure the couple would be home. Fuck, I wish I had some of Jared’s pot to smoke right about now. I need to mellow the fuck out before I go in there and lose my shit.
Breathe.
In.
Out.
Control.
I take the time to center myself. This is going to be the hardest thing I’ve done since that night. Not even standing in front of the judge and hearing the word guilty was harder than this is going to be. When I reach the front door, it opens without me having to knock. The woman who answers, Bethany Halley, can’t be more than twenty-one or twenty-two. She smiles and says, “You must be Ryan. Please, come in.”
Bethany steps back out of the way. The first thing I notice are two kids sitting side-by-side on a worn-out sofa. They are watching cartoons with the volume turned down low. “Jimmy’s on his way home from work, but he should be here any second. These two,” she motions at the kids, “are Shana and Steven.” Neither one makes a move or a sound. Their eyes are wide as I squat down in front of them to say hello. I’m intimidating as fuck with my size, so I can’t imagine what these two little kids are thinking as they stare at me. The boy continues to stare, but the girl eventually smiles and gives me a sweet, “Hi.”
I try my best not to remember the plans she and I had for having kids of our own. The house was small, but it was perfect for a couple just starting out. Now, it seems so much smaller than it did the last time I was in it. I already knew Jared painted all the walls a bland beige color, taking away the brightness my wife had infused in each room. Seeing it for the first time is a shock. Then again, pretty much everything about being here is a shock to my system.
I don’t have to walk farther into the house to know I won’t be moving back in, but I make my feet move pa
st the living room. Bethany doesn’t follow as I pretend to inspect the whole house. I peek in each door, not giving the room more than a cursory glance. Until I come to the last door on the right. Call me a glutton for punishment, but I have to see the room. Our bedroom. I have to see it without the blood. Without her. I don’t want to invade Jimmy and Bethany’s privacy, so I stand just inside the doorway as I’m assaulted with the scene I’ve done my best to forget after all this time.
The room is arranged differently, but I can still see the bed against the far wall. My wife’s bloody body in the middle of the bed, her eyes glazed over as she stared at nothing. Her slashed hands where she’d tried to defend herself against the knife. My knees weaken as the bile rises in my throat. I close my eyes and turn away from the room. I get my emotions under control and return to the living room to find Jimmy Halley home and loving on his children. When I enter the room, his eyes widen, much the same way his kids’ had, and he stands.
“Jimmy,” I say as I hold out my hand to shake. “I’m Ryan Cassidy. Nice to meet you.” I do my best to lessen the intimidation. I want them to continue living in the house, and I want to come across as someone they will want to rent from.
“Same here.”
“I know Jared told you to find somewhere else to live, but I’ve decided I’m not moving back in. I’d love for you to stay, if you haven’t already made other arrangements.”
“We haven’t actually. We were going to move in with my mother until we found something we could afford,” he admits.
“Nobody needs to live with their mother,” I joke, and both adults laugh. “I’ll continue renting to you as long as you need. If you ever decide you’d like to buy the place, let me know. I’ll make you a good deal on it.”
