He blinked his eyes once, twice, then finally, realization. He shook his head as if to clear his mind of his previous thoughts and lowered his weapons, turning completely away from me so I couldn’t see his face. We were both quiet, lost in the possibilities of what could have happened. Mem was struggling with adjusting to civilian life; hell, I would too if I were in his shoes. He was fighting for it, battling the beast inside. He wanted a normal life away from the chaos of the battlefield. I wouldn’t embarrass him over this by pointing out the obvious. I didn’t need to. The hunch in his shoulders told me that he was kicking his own ass. For now, I had to trust my brother to handle this burden and hold it together just long enough to deal with Max.
“Need you at the house, Mem. Shit’s going down with Max, and we need to figure out how to handle it.” I spoke plainly, any hint that I was angry with him null and void from my tone.
“I’ll be there…just give me minute,” he replied without turning around.
“Sebastian will be over around three. Take your time, man.” He didn’t respond that time, but he didn’t need to. I left him to his thoughts and headed back toward the house, knowing my brother would be there exactly when I asked him to be.
Sebastian arrived early as usually, looking like fresh road kill. His hair was sticking up every which way, his shirt was untucked, and his zipper was down. Not that I was looking or anything, but fuck, it was staring me right in my face. My first thoughts were that he was in a fight or something until I noticed the sappy smirk he was wearing on his face. The guy looked deranged in an oddly satisfied sort of way.
“What the fuck happened to you?” Call me a glutton for punishment, but I couldn’t stop myself from asking. Curiosity and all that.
“What? I’m on time, right? Mother and Aunt Enid said you should always be on time for important meetings. It shows commitment to the task at hand.” His grin got impossibly bigger, causing him to wince and rub his jaw back and forth while slowly opening and closing his mouth like a guppy.
“Of course you’re on time, dumbass. I’m talking about your clothes and shit looking all kinds of fucked up.” I motioned with my hand to his still open zipper and shook my head as he reached down and zipped up. Good thing I wasn’t expecting visitors, or that whole scene would have definitely made for an interesting story and a lot of explaining.
“Oh, sorry about that. I had lunch with Ashley today at Foster’s.” Okay, that was all I needed to know, but Sebastian had more to tell thanks to my big, fat mouth asking one wrong question.
“Well…actually, it was more like lunch slash late breakfast early dinner type thing. We sort of had the place to ourselves since the Fosters had some business to attend to. Do you know how hard it is to suck caramel off a slick surface? I mean…talk about a workout. I had no idea you could sprain your jaw muscles, but I gotta tell ya, I think I may have a slight pull. Think I should go to the emergency room, Range? Could be serious enough for an X-ray at least, right? I certainly wouldn’t want to end up with lockjaw. That just sounds painful. What do you think?”
I was cursed. A voodoo priestess had cast a spell on me, and I was damned to hell on Earth. Right at this moment, a witch was chanting my name and drinking pig’s blood just to torture me. Buck rarely drank, he didn’t smoke, and drugs were completely out of the question, but he put up with this sort of shit for years? The man was a saint. Saint fucking Calhoun. Oh yeah, he would threaten to bash our heads in, but he never did, not even once. Pity he was no longer around. This fool could definitely use a knock upside his head, and right now, come to think of it, I could too, just to remove that image from my mental rolodex.
“You can’t get lockjaw from eating pussy, you idiot, if that’s what you’re hinting at.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to take any chances. It’s pretty sore right now, especially when I try and talk. I’m sure I read somewhere that repeated use of the mandible muscles on a smaller surface could result in lockjaw. Maybe I should call Mother or Aunt Enid and ask one of them. I’m sure they would know all about this stuff. Women are super smart that way.”
“You want to call your mother and tell her you were eating pussy, and now your mouth hurts and you need advice on what to do? Are you fucking crazy? Never mind. Don’t answer that…just …please, sit down and shut the fuck up.”
Thank the gods Mem walked in right at that moment and saved me from this foolery. One more minute of Sebastian talking about his sore mouth, and I was going to jump out a window of the tallest building I could find. I’d never been so happy to see another human being in my life, even one who almost tried to kill me a few hours ago. Mem was calm now, reserved but somewhat normal-looking in his appearance. The rabid glint in his eyes from earlier had been replaced by clarity and mellowness, the savagery was harnessed for the time being. He stood by the sink in the kitchen with his arms folded across his large chest, causing both gun butts to stick out from under his person in clear view. He wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that he was carrying, at least not from the two of us.
“What’s the fucking urgency, Range? Why you call us here?” Mem asked as he gave me his eyes for the first time since arriving.
“I spoke to Maxwell. He didn’t call me, I called him. Don’t like where his head’s at,” I told them. “Said he was going home, but wouldn’t tell me where, and I didn’t get a chance to ask.”
“Fuck Max and his ever-present bullshit. I couldn’t care less what’s going on with him, and you damn well know it, Range.” Sebastian stood abruptly from his chair, set to leave, so I blocked his way with my larger body in order to stop him.
“You need to sit the fuck back down and listen to what I have to say, brother. This is not a game,” I warned in a threatening tone.
“Or fucking what, Range? You gonna make me sit down?” He narrowed his eyes and puffed out his chest, anger clouding his wisdom. “We can take this shit outside right now, ‘cause there’s no way in hell I’m staying here listening to this bullshit about Max.” Sebastian squared up against me, a sign that he was not backing down from his threat to take me on. This wasn’t the time for fighting amongst ourselves. We needed to come together so we could find a way to help Max, who was a part of our family, a brother, and in turn help ourselves in the process.
“You two fuckers need to cut it out before I kick both your asses.” Mem approached from his perch by the sink and stood in between me and Sebastian. We hadn’t had an all-out brawl since we were teenagers, with black eyes, busted lips, and one dislocated finger before Buck ran our asses ragged around the junkyard for being “cum dumb,” as he called it after he broke it up. According to him, we were acting out because we were full of teenage cum in our tiny balls and needed to burn it off instead of fighting like idiots. By the time we were done running, we had completely forgotten what the hell we were even fighting about.
“What did he say that’s got you so spooked, Range?” Mem finally asked.
“He said he was going home.” Sebastian gave me a blank look then started to chuckle to himself, but it was hollow and unnatural-sounding coming from him.
“So? He’s going home. What’s the big fucking deal about that? I think you lost your mind since Clover left your ass, Range. This is pussy talk bullshit, and I’m outta here.” I drew my arm back with a balled-up fist, ready to smash his fucking face in, when Mem spoke up just in time to save his ass from a guaranteed knock out.
“This is our home, you fucking asshole,” he yelled. “Whatever bullshit you’re feelin’ about what he did to Ashley needs to stop, today. Lock that shit up and figure out a way to help your brother, or so help me, Sebastian, I will fuck you up. You feel me?” Sebastian simply shook his head in defeat. He couldn’t take on both of us, and in his heart he knew Max needed our help and the situation was dead serious.
“I checked his room. He took the bare minimum, clothes and shit like that,” I spoke up.
“Anything else?” Sebastian asked, seemingly on board now wit
h this conversation.
“His shotgun is missing.” I ran both hands through my hair and gave it a hard tug to ease some of the tension.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Mem started pacing around the room, beating his own head with his fist as if to motivate his brain to start functioning. Sebastian contributed his own string of curses before he took a seat on the couch and buried his face in his hands. We all knew what that meant; it was the same for all of us. Never carry your weapon unless you plan to use it. Buck was always clear on that point, and that alone made Max’s actions illogical. Where was this mysterious “home” he spoke of? Buck was the only one who knew anything about Max and his upbringing. Unlike the rest of us, the two of them never shared, and we knew better than to ask. Buck had a way with Max, like he knew just what to say or do to get Max back on track. The only thing he would tell us was, “Cut Max some slack. He’s been through more than any of you ever will in your life.” It was enough of an explanation when we were boys, and we accepted it back then. Now, it wasn’t nearly enough.
“I have a friend, works communications in the Marines. I’ll give him a call and see if he can dig up anything on Max. We need to know what the fuck is going on.” Mem stormed out of the house, leaving Sebastian and me alone again as he took off down the yard. I was still worried about him, but for now, he wasn’t my biggest concern.
“Well…I’m on my way to the ER to get an X-ray.” Sebastian stood in front of me and waited a beat. “I…I love you, Range. Don’t ever forget that, brother.” He slapped me on the back then he, too, left the house and made his way to his car. This was the family I knew and loved, working together as one, as brothers. This was what made our bond stronger than oak.
Chapter 11
Clover
The days continued to seem endless as I fought the battle to become my old self again. The group meetings had become easier, and I had opened up more to this group of strangers than I had to anyone else in my entire family. I no longer felt trepidation when I told them about my fears, my hopes, and of course, my lost dreams. Dreams of living at the junkyard with Range by my side as we raised a family together. I say it was a dream, but in my heart I wished it to be true. I hadn’t heard from Range since the day I packed up and left, not one phone call, a postcard, or a fucking drive-by to check if I was still alive or not. I could be dead in a ditch for all he knew, rotting away like an old banana peel left out in the sun too long. Dramatic much?
The idea that I didn’t mean as much to him as he said I did made me wonder if we were really meant to be together. He let me go so easily, no fight or struggle, just… nothing. Maybe he decided to go back with some skank like Marci for a quick round or two and live out his fantasies like Max? He’d probably already forgotten about me and moved another chick into the junkyard, outta sight, outta mind style. My imagination had been taken hostage by thoughts of Range in the throes of passion with some random slut while she smiled seductively at him as he told her how much he loved her. If I wasn’t batshit crazy before, I certainly was now. I never stopped to think about any of this shit before I packed up and walked out. I was lucky enough to find Range the first time; it was gonna take a miracle to bring him back to me a second time.
My sleep patterns improved tremendously since attending the group meetings on a weekly basis. The nightmares seemed less disruptive, and I was able to recover quickly from the few I had, so that I resumed sleeping for the rest of the night. I was finally feeling well rested and alert, no longer trapped in a haze of fear and uncertainty, but my quest wasn’t over yet. There was one more dragon I needed to slay before I could completely put my life back together. There was only one person I trusted enough to help me with this final task, but seeing him again and not knowing where our relationship stood had my body in a frenzy of anticipation from my memories of him. The soft touch of his fingers as he stroked my face before he leaned down to press a lasting kiss on my eager lips before leaving for work each morning. How I would run my hands over his strong back as he made sweet, passionate love to me all while whispering in my ear how beautiful I was. If I concentrated hard enough, I could still feel his heartbeat blending with my own as we lay together side by side and slowly fell asleep in each other’s arms. I couldn’t imagine a future without Range in it. With luck, he, too, felt the same way.
***
I arrived early at this beautiful expanse of land, the final resting place of so many of the fallen. As usual, the grass was cut to perfection and the shrubbery had been trimmed recently with any hint of debris quickly removed. This wasn’t my first time visiting this place. I knew exactly where the gravestone was placed and how long I would have to wait before Range would show up for his monthly visit. I purposely arrived early just to give myself a chance to settle in and compartmentalize my thoughts. I stood there staring down at the intricately etched stone and wondered about the man who played such a huge role in the lives of his lost boys. He taught them all the things a father should: loyalty, brotherhood, and love. I prayed he also taught them forgiveness and understanding. I needed that today. My future depended on it.
I heard the monster truck’s engine as it pulled to a stop a short distance away in the parking area. Standing out here in the open clear as day, I was sure he could see me. I didn’t turn around as I heard his approach, the crunching of the grass as he hiked the short distance over to where I was standing alone. He didn’t call out to me, but I knew it was him. The air turned electric as he stood within three feet from where I was, and as much as I hated to admit it, my pussy became wet from his fabulous scent, the “Range scent,” as I liked to call it. It was a mix of hard work, soap, and shampoo that never failed to get my engine running. I mentally chastised myself for having such salacious thoughts at a time like this, but hey, it’d been a while, so sue me. It took a few moments before either one of us spoke. We stood together watching the headstone, each of us deep in our own thoughts. The headstone had a simple engraving Buck Calhoun, Father. It was perfect.
“Do you think he’s looking down at us?” I pointed to the sky.” Or up at us?” I then pointed to the ground beneath us as I asked Range the question without looking in his direction.
“I don’t know, baby. I’d like to think he’s looking down, but who the fuck knows for sure?” he replied as he kneeled to place a beautiful bouquet of flowers on top of the grave. He didn’t sound angry with me for leaving him; on the contrary, his tone was hesitant and unsure. His beautiful hair blew slightly in the wind, and my fingers twitched to reach out and touch it. I missed him so much that my heart was pounding in my chest, and I wanted nothing more than to throw myself on top of him and beg him to hold me again. Considering this was a graveyard, that would have been way too creepy, so I refrained. Besides, I needed something else from him first before we could tackle our relationship.
“Why didn’t you tell me the truth about the shooting, Range?” I said it so low I wasn’t sure if he heard my question. I realized he did when he took a deep, fortifying breath and prepared himself to answer. He stood to his full height from previously kneeling by the gravestone, directly in front of me, only mere inches away. Standing this close, I could see the heavy bags that circled his eyes. He looked completely worn out with the stress of hard days evident on his handsome features. Something was wrong with him. This wasn’t all about me. He was hurting. One look in his eyes, and I felt it so deeply it nearly bowled me over with its intensity. The stress lines around his mouth and the ill-fitting clothing indicated that he lost weight, and quite a lot of it. I needed to touch him, more to steady myself from this sudden feeling so damn powerful I was beginning to panic. He needed me, and by god, I needed him right back.
“Range? Baby, what’s happened?” I asked as I looked directly at him and lightly touched his cheek. He leaned into my hand for just a moment before he took it from his face and placed it down at my side. He didn’t want my touch. He wanted to answer my previous question without the distraction. I was momentarily hurt b
y his rejection, but now wasn’t the time to waiver. I needed to hear what he had to say as much as he needed to say it.
“What do you see when you look at me, Clover?” he calmly asked.
“I don’t understand. I see you, just… Range. Hard-working, loving, strong, devastatingly handsome Range Reardon.”
“And Craze? What about him? What do you see?” he asked.
“I see my friend. The man who saved my life when I was shot.” He looked to the sky shaking his head and smiled down at me from where he was standing.
“And that right there was the reason why I couldn’t tell you the truth about the shooting, baby.”
“Range, I don’t understand what you’re talking about. What reason?”
“I know you don’t understand, tootsie baby, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth sooner.” He took a few steps away and turned his back to me, breaking eye contact so he could continue finally telling me the reason for his betrayal and why those questions were important to him.
“Your views of the world and the people in it are so different than those of the rest of us,” he began. “You see light in everything, the good always outweighs the bad. To you, Craze is just a man you call a friend. He’s dangerous and ruthless, but you don’t see that, even after everything that happened, you don’t see it. Made we wonder, baby.”
“Made you wonder what, Range?”
“If I told you the truth about what happened that day, would you finally see me as I see… myself? How I really feel about the man I was and the man I’ve become? I’m still that dirty kid from the trailer park with too small clothes and lice-infested hair. It doesn’t matter that I don’t look the same or smell the same; to me, I am the same. If I told you the truth about the shooting, then you would know that it was all my fault Buck was dead, and that glow, that special way you look at me, like I’m special, worthy, would have died right along with him.”
Refuse: A Junkyard Wedding Page 6
