Merciless Ride

by Chelsea Camaron

  I chose Appalachian State University because they do have a good nursing program and it was still relatively close to home, so I could get back to her if she needed me. I was young and carefree. I wouldn’t say I felt invincible, although I definitely didn’t think of the consequences of all my actions. They are the very same actions that have me now living in an old trailer with a son I’m raising on my own.

  Tears fill my eyes as I think back on the dreams I once had. Dreams I once chased with fervor and passion are now a fading memory in what’s become of my life.

  A knock at my door startles me out of my musings. There is no peep hole to check to see who is here. No, my tiny, white aluminum sided trailer has a set of three concrete steps leading up to the door that, if I yank hard enough, even locked, will pop open.

  The inside of my house is no prettier than the outside. My kitchen has two windows, but one is filled with the window unit air conditioner to cool the small space. The avocado green gas stove and refrigerator are doing nothing to add to the ambiance. I have no dishwasher other than my own two hands, and my counter top has only enough space for the drying rack, a microwave, and a toaster.

  The front door opens into my living room that only has enough room for a single couch; no loveseat, no chair, and no table even. Nope, I have a thrift store bought couch that faces two windows and a small television that sits on an old, short book shelf with three shelves.

  I never have visitors, except for the time I let Rex come over when my mom was keeping Axel. Looking around, I am embarrassed to show anyone my meager belongings. I don’t have pictures on the walls because no frame ever seems to look right against the old, warped wooden-looking paneling. Axel is still young, so I don’t put pictures in frames on the book shelf. It’s functional for storing his toys.

  Down the narrow hallway is Axel’s room that is so small it doesn’t fit more than his twin size bed. Between his room and mine that is at the end of the house is a small bathroom that happens to be nothing more than a tub, sink, and toilet. I don’t have a washer and dryer; I take my laundry to Mom’s house weekly. I have what I need to get by. My home is home to me, but it’s bare and far too small for others to visit.

  Sighing, I pull myself together, pushing back my embarrassment as I open the door. Never in my life did I expect him to be on the other side. No, I figured it would be Rex or Doll stopping by, not Shooter.

  The door is one that opens outward, not inward like homes of today; therefore, Shooter must step down to the bottom step to avoid the door.

  Why is he here?

  She is standing in the doorway, staring at me with a perplexed expression. Giving her a minute, I remain on her bottom front step, waiting for her to greet me or move to welcome me in. Rather than open the door farther like one would normally do, Tessie steps out onto her top step while holding the door knob in her hand.

  Taking her silent cue, I back away until she can come down the narrow three steps and close the door behind her. She watches me intently and obviously doesn’t know what to say.

  “Hey, baby,” I greet to end our awkward standoff.

  “Um… Hi, Shooter,” she replies, while looking down at her perfectly red painted toe nails.

  “I came to drop off my car for you.”

  “What?” The shock of my statement shows clearly in her features. Her brown eyes open wide, staring at me as if she is unsure if I am real.

  Oh, sweetheart, I’m real, all right.

  “Shooter, I can’t take your car.”

  “Baby, you need a car, and I have one that I don’t drive daily. I’m here to leave it with you until I get your Honda fixed.” It is the God’s honest truth. I can’t, in good conscience, leave her with nothing to get back and forth in, and the Dodge Challenger is not even two years old with less than six thousand miles on it. I don’t drive it except for a weekend cruise here and there. I have a small, Chevy S-10 pick-up truck I use for my daily commute if I don’t ride my Harley.

  Her family is a close knit one. They don’t ask for handouts or help, ever. Her mom and aunt step in to take care of Axel; as a result, she has never had to put him in daycare. Hell, only the town doctor and a handful of others have actually seen the kid. If you didn’t know Tessie came home from college because she was pregnant, you wouldn’t even realize she had a son.

  Word around town says her mom’s health is getting worse. Tessie needs a car, not only for work, but to get home to her mom and Axel if need be. I have a car I am not using; therefore, the logical thing seems to be leaving it with her. Too bad her face doesn’t show her agreement with my plan.

  “Shooter, again, I can’t take your car.”

  “Look, with your car, we gotta order parts. I told you that already. Those take a few days to get in, and I can’t leave you with no way to get to Axel, your mom, and to work.”

  “I’ll rent a car,” she replies firmly.

  “Tessie, don’t be stubborn. We don’t even know what your car will cost to repair. Take the Challenger.”

  “Why are you so willing to help me?”

  “Call me selfish. If you don’t have a car, you can’t get to work, and then who would serve me a beer?” I ask in mock innocence.

  “Corinne will happily serve you, Shooter.”

  “Ha. Got jokes, do ya? Corinne will happily serve up more than just drinks. Tessie, I’m just tryin’ to be a friend here.”

  “I would hardly call us friends.” Her face is set in stone, not giving anything away. She is tough, but there is a sadness deep in those brown eyes that pulls at me.

  “We could be,” I state, watching for her to give me some sort of clue or opening, yet she gives away nothing. “Take the car, Tessie.”

  “I don’t need any new friends, Shooter. Keep your car. Thanks for stopping by, but I’ll get my car sorted. I’m no trouble of yours.”

  “Come on, Tessie. Look, I get it, you haven’t had it easy. Neither have I, but I have an opportunity to help you, and I want to take it. No strings, no favors, no debts, no markers, just me paying it forward, so to speak.”

  When she doesn’t reply or change her stance, I throw out the big guns. “Okay, I’ll call Rex and have him arrange for your transportation.” I begin to step backwards, making my exit.

  “Wait! You wouldn’t really involve Rex, would you?”

  “If you don’t take the car, yes, I will. Tessie, you’re part of the Hellions’ family in a way. None of us want to see you struggle. Take the car.”

  “You won’t call Rex if I take the car?” she questions as I watch the determination flash across her face. For whatever reason, she does not want to rely on my brother.

  “If you take the car and agree to have dinner with me,” I add, totally knowing I’m pushing my luck here.

  “Shooter!” she cries out in frustration, losing some of her firm resolve to keep me shut out. “What happened to no strings, huh?”

  “What? I want us to be friends, that’s all. Seriously, I’m a man with far too much bad history to bring a woman along for my ride, but I want to get to know you as a friend. Besides, I get the feeling you could use a friend right now and just that.”

  “I’ll take the car, but only until my car is fixed. Things are complicated for me, though. I can’t accept your dinner invitation. To be honest, it’s not in your best interest to be my friend.”

  As my buddy, Nathan ‘Boomer’ Vaughn, pulls into Tessie’s driveway, I hand her the keys to the Challenger, smiling. “Baby, I’ve never been one to do anything that’s in my best interest. We’ll have dinner one night, Tessie. Mark my words.” At that final statement, I walk away.

  Climbing in the cab of his truck, I look over at my long-time friend as he gives me a shit-eating grin. I shake my head at him.

  “Come on, man, that’s fine pussy right there.” He turns the truck around and drives away from Tessie’s place.

  “Boomer, don’t even go there. She’s going through some shit. She needs a friend.”

 
“It’s been fuckin’ years since Tracie. Let go of the regrets, man.”

  “Fuck off, Boomer.” My tone is sharp enough he knows to drop the subject of my own sorted past.

  My past. My regrets. The ghost that holds me back. Tessie should know it’s not in her best interest to be my friend. This was a bad idea. I will see it through, get her car safe, and slip her some money. But she is right; we don’t need to be friends. Tessie needs a good man and good friends, not the black soul I am. I’m poison. I’m a plague to everything I touch. How could I let myself forget it for even one moment?

  Tracie’s final words haunt me.

  “It’s you, Andy. You carry the darkness of death with you from the war. You’re a trained killer. That’s what they’ve done to you. The man I once knew and loved is now a long lost memory. You keep telling me it’s service to my country. No, you’re tainted, Andy. You’re a killer and you’ve killed us. I can’t take it anymore—what could’ve been. It’s now my blood on your hands, too.”

  I rub my hands over my face as the final shot rings out through my head. Her blood covered me both inside and out.

  After serving my country for nine years in the Army, after selection and training with Special Forces and getting my green beret, my first love couldn’t stand to even look at me. The elite, the badass, the sniper, I came home from training, from deployments, from war to my girl’s shame in what I had become. It was all too much to bear. The deployments, my nightmares, her knowing what I sometimes had to do without really knowing.

  Even though I never told her anything, she made her assumptions. In the end, she took her own life right in front of me. I couldn’t save her.

  She was the girl next door, literally—my neighbor growing up. High school sweethearts, everyone planned out our lives for us in a way. Only, I joined the Army rather than working in her dad’s garage. I took the path less traveled. I did the unexpected. I changed the plan and forced her along for the ride.

  She couldn’t handle the separation. All that time apart, she was left wondering where I was, if I was safe; all while I was riding an adrenaline high and running off the pride of serving my country. Nothing gained ever comes without sacrifice. My sacrifice in not settling down and having kids for my choice to serve my nation. The cost was much too high for Tracie, a payment she never signed on for. I was trained. I was equipped with tools and coping skills. She was not. She suffered alone. The darkness consumed her until it was all too much to take for even another breath.

  The thing is, if she had never met me she would still be alive with two point five kids and a house with a white picket fence: the American dream. That’s all she ever wanted. I took it all from her, crushed her dreams and took her life.

  Momentarily, I let Tessie’s situation cloud my judgment. I was wrong; I can’t be her friend. No, I will help her, but then I need to walk away. Rex will eventually stop chasing tail and step up to be there for her. Besides, she’s got Doll and Tripp for friends. She certainly doesn’t need me and my baggage.

  Life

  Another day, another dollar, or at least, that is what I keep telling myself. One day, I will have a regular nine to five job. One day, I will pick Axel up from school, do his homework and have dinner with him, give him a bath, and then settle in for bedtime snuggles. One day, I won’t get up from putting him to bed to leave for work. No, one day, I will be able to go from tucking my son in for sleep and crawl into my own bed for the night, as well.

  Alas, that is not my current situation. Axel is tucked in for the night at my mom’s house. My aunt is staying over so they want him to spend the night. At least I don’t have to worry about picking him up after my shift.

  Everything has changed and become more complicated. This was all much easier when he was a baby. He is getting bigger now. When he’s asleep, he’s dead weight to move around and get home.

  Arriving at Ruthless tonight, I smile at the bikes already lined up outside. The Hellions prospect, the one who came to pick Shooter up from my place three weeks ago when he left me his car, is outside watching over all the chrome and leather. I kind of feel bad for the guy. Well, any of the prospects, really. They are made fun of most of the time, and the guys run them ragged. It is supposed to be some macho display of dedication and loyalty. I don’t get it, but I am not part of the club, so I guess I wouldn’t. It’s not my place to ask questions or try to understand.

  Hmmm… I wonder if he knows when my car will be finished. At this rate, I need to make Shooter’s car payment for the month or some shit. It’s definitely not something I can afford right now, but I need to pay him, especially if this is going to drag on further. I don’t want to owe anyone.

  Thanks to Corinne, I have picked up a few day shifts as a waitress at Brinkley’s, a local diner. It is nothing to brag about, but it is helping get the bills paid. They have a consistent lunch rush; as a result, I am making a more steady income on tips than I do behind the bar.

  The guys are good about slipping me extra, especially Tripp. Rex has tried, but it makes me feel cheap so I always give it back to him. However, I find money pretty regularly in my purse that I am sure comes from him. Since I can’t prove it, though, I try to turn a blind eye to it.

  I see another biker standing near the bikes, only he is a fully patched member of the Desert Ghosts MC, his cut clearly displaying their insignia. Guess they are sticking around. They have been riding through more and more frequently. Although, in the last two weeks, they have been at Ruthless nightly. Whatever they are here for, they are obviously affiliated and on friendly terms with the Hellions. There is no way they would feel comfortable hanging around this often for this long if it wasn’t friendly between the clubs. Hellions run the Carolina’s everyone knows it and no one challenges it.

  Ruthless doesn’t fly official colors. The owner, a good ol’ country boy named Bob, says he can’t fly colors in his bar while still paying tithes at church on Sunday; he wouldn’t feel right about it. Whatever you say, mister. Pastor Joe knows the money placed in that offering plate comes from booze, and that booze was paid for with Hellion’s money. He sure doesn’t turn it away, now, does he?

  Either way, the bar keeps steady business, which keeps me making steady tips. With the Desert Ghosts in town, I have been making a little more each night, saving up to get Axel a trampoline for Christmas, I hope.

  Working here, even though I’m surrounded by badass bikers, I feel safe. I know the Hellions won’t let anything happen at Ruthless. Sure, we have the occasional bar fight when the brothers get a little drunk. The barflies get in hair pulling cat fights almost nightly, but I feel safe at my job, something I can’t say about working at another bar.

  The night is busy, and as soon as I get behind the bar, it’s chaos—drink orders flying, alcohol spilling, ice dropping, and people shuffling about. The longer it goes on, the more I feel my feet dragging. The extra shifts at Brinkley’s are taking their toll. Not knowing what my car repair is going to cost, though, I need every penny I can get.

  Corinne rings the cow bell we have over the bar to let the guys know to belly up to the bar and get their final beer then get the hell out. Last call, which means we can go home soon. I am more than ready to hit the bed tonight.

  Corinne seems nice enough. She is new to bartending, but definitely not new to bikers. She is a barfly through and through. Although, I guess I shouldn’t be so quick to judge. Some people probably think that of me, given my history with Rex.

  History, that word again. Well, it certainly is what Rex and I are. Why I ever disillusioned myself to believe there could be more is beyond me.

  Rex was the bad boy biker on the streets when I was in high school. He would pass by and wink at me. The first time he spoke to me, we were at a gas station. After I pulled up in my Honda, he strutted over as I was pumping gas. He looked over and saw my high school tassel hanging from my rearview mirror and smirked. It was my senior year. I knew it was cheesy to hang it from my mirror, but I was proud to be
graduating and leaving my small town. As he watched me for a moment, his eyes dancing in humor, I was completely enamored and enthralled.

  After a pat on my ass, he looked me up and down before saying, “Call me when you’re legal.” He then walked away with all the confidence in the world, never giving a second glance back. That is Rex, though, never looking back.

  Lost in my life musings, the bar is empty before I even realize it.

  “See ya tomorrow, Tessie,” Corinne calls out as she heads to the front door.

  “Night. Drive safe,” I reply as I watch her lock the door and walk away.

  After turning over the last bar stool, I make my way to the stock room. Sighing, I think back to the many nights Rex would stay behind to close up with me. The many nights he would take me right here in this very room.

  Time to let go of all of that, I remind myself. He is never going to grow up or settle down. Take a page from his book, Tessie, no more looking back.

  Three weeks. Three long, fucking weeks. Ever since Boomer brought her up, the ghost of my past is haunting me once again. She is relentless this time. I close my eyes and see her tear-filled gaze before she pulled the trigger, the depths of her stare begging me to change. Begging me to go back to a time when things were simple between us. Begging me to give up my career and be the man who could be home every night for dinner. The man who could sit beside her at church on Sunday. The man who crawled into bed with her to share my every secret and woke up every morning, cherishing having her in my arms. The stare, the look, and the final moment when she shut down, realizing I could never be the man she wanted. The final moment when I had to accept that I had cost her everything.