by Deja Voss
“You know I don’t blame you. I don’t blame any of you.”
I want to tell her I love her. That I’ll do whatever it takes to take care of her, even if it means turning my back on the club. I know she doesn’t blame us, and that’s what makes it even sadder. We let her down. I let her down. She hangs there in my arms for a minute. Her hair smells like citrus and spices; the closest way I can describe that smell is home. It’s always been home.
“Well, enough of this,” she finally laughs, in that sweet, husky voice of hers. “Did you hear what happened while you and Gavin were out?”
“I can only imagine.”
“Apparently Aunt Trixie has a new man. He’s a plumber,” she says dramatically. ‘Aunt’ Trixie has been hanging around the club since we were just babies. Her mother dumped her here and ran off with one of our rival gangs. Built like a linebacker, I know she could kick my ass if she so chose, but Trixie was the one who took care of me when my dad died. She’s the sweetest lady I know, but only if you’re on her good side. She can see right through everyone’s bullshit and she doesn’t sugar coat anything.
“I’m happy to hear that. The old gal probably needs her pipes cleaned, if you know what I’m saying.”
I love the way Esther laughs, the way she throws her head back, all carefree. She’s always been like that. She gets my humor.
“Well listen to this,” she says. “Heat is NOT happy. He went full peacock when the guy showed up at the bar. Squawking and pecking and puffing his chest out. I’m surprised he didn’t piss on the floor. I’m not surprised he pulled his gun though.”
Another prime example of an old lonely misfit. Heat’s a good guy, but he just can’t seem to settle down, even at the ripe age of sixty-ish. He’s our club chaplain, always full of sage wisdom, but not good at practicing what he preaches.
“Old plumber took off running like a bat out of hell. Trixie beat the shit out of Heat. Then they went in the liquor cabinet. It was quite the night,” she giggles.
“It’s about damn time. Those two have been eye fucking each other for at least thirty years.” About half the time Esther and I have been doing whatever dumb dance this is that we do. Our relationship will never come to that point though. She’ll meet a guy willing to take her away from this life, and I’ll always have my motorcycle and my patch.
“What time you guys leaving tomorrow?” she asks.
“Early,” I say. I could stand here in her dingy little kitchen with the 1970s wallpaper and peeling linoleum floor until the sun comes up, but I’m sure I’ll probably regret it in the morning. Plus I’m sure she wants to get back to doing whatever it is she was doing, and I’m sure I’ll be tossing and turning all night thinking about whatever it is she was doing.
“Well, you better get going, then. Thank you for bringing my mail over, Brooks. You really didn’t have to.”
“I know,” I say, “but I don’t care. I like hanging out with you.”
She walks me to the foyer and I slide on my boots. She pulls me in for a hug, kissing me on the cheek just like she always does. It might be a casual thing for her, but for me, it just adds fuel to my fire. Every time she touches me.
“Be careful out there,” she says. “I know how clingy Gavin gets when he’s sleeping.”
“Trust me, woman, I have my own tent. I’ve learned the hard way how much fun it is to wake up underneath his hairy sweaty ass.”
“Bye, Brooks,” she says with a smile. “I’ll see you when you get home?”
“Yeah, sure. Maybe we can see what we can do about getting you some blinds for your bedroom window when I get back.” Holy fuck, if I could ram my foot in my mouth right now.
“What?” she asks, perplexed, cocking her head.
This woman makes me say stupid things. I have no response. I stare at her like a deer in headlights, trying to figure out a way to skirt my stupidity.
“Well, what if Mr. Gingerbread is prancing around on your bed and a bear sees him and thinks he’s a snack.” Dumbass. Is that even something that could happen?
“I never thought of that,” she says, her eyes still wide. “I just like to watch the deer in my yard when I wake up in the morning.”
“Maybe those deer in your yard like watching you while you’re sleeping.” I shrug. Now I just sound like a fucking creep. I walk off into the night, getting out of my own way before my mouth gets me in any more trouble.
5
Esther
Weird.
He’s acting really weird.
This whole night was weird.
He might be rough around the edges, he might say some really crude shit that always makes me laugh, but he never says anything he doesn’t mean.
If he was really coming from the clubhouse, really coming down that main road, he’d have no idea what kind of blinds I do or don’t have in my bedroom window.
Maybe he noticed some other time, in passing.
Sure. That’s what I’m going to keep telling myself at least. Because the other thing, the other option, the thought that maybe he has seen more than he’s letting on, I don’t know how I feel about that. I wonder why he didn’t say anything? How he could just stand in my kitchen like everything is business as usual? He probably just didn’t want to embarrass me.
He was probably just being a good friend.
Still, I feel kind of humiliated. I know he’s well aware of what I do. I know he doesn’t like it. He makes that clear every opportunity that he gets. But if he knew about my other extracurricular activities, well, he’d probably think I was a freak. Even more than he already does.
“It was probably just the beer talking, huh, Mr. Gingerbread?” I ask my old tabby cat who’s circling my legs, rubbing himself up against me with overaggressive purrs. “You don’t have to worry about those bears getting you.”
I scoop him up in my arms and head back into my bedroom. I’m definitely not in the mood to get back into my chat. Even being around Brooks kind of takes the edge off of my urges while simultaneously driving me insane. I can still smell him, that manly mixture of pine and leather that is forever burned into my nose. I can still feel his warm embrace. I snuggle underneath my comforter, and let my mind wander back to a time where things were simpler. Back to a time before I found out my ultimate destiny, and being in love with him made me feel good.
“Aunt Mary, school is supposed to start in two weeks. I need to get ready. When am I going home?”
I’ve spent the whole summer cooped up in her farmhouse with nobody to talk to except for her gang of cats. She doesn’t get cell phone service where she lives and she’s really anal about long-distance phone calls. The last time I talked to Gavin was about a month ago, and he didn’t really have much to say, almost like he was avoiding me. The only person who seems to care about keeping in touch with me is my little brother, Goob. He mails me drawings every week scrawled in crayon, I LOVE YOU E, written all over. Like they’re a get well card or something. Like I’m sick and dying.
The only thing I’m dying from is boredom. Aunt Mary is so hard of hearing, even trying to talk to her makes my throat hurt from having to yell and repeat myself over and over again. She’s not interested, anyway. She’s too wrapped up in her soap operas in the afternoon, bingo in the evening, and being in bed by 7 p.m.
As a teenage girl, this FUCKING SUCKS.
“You’re not going to school this year, Esther. You know that.”
Now I worry that she’s getting senile, too. Nobody ever told me I wasn’t going back to school. I don’t have a lot going for me, but I like being in high school. I like making good grades. I have no idea what I want to do when I graduate, but I definitely want to graduate.
“I wanna call my dad,” I whine. “This is bullshit.”
“You’re gonna see your dad soon. Now can you run down to the gas station and grab me a pack of smokes? I’m not proper.” She’s got her white hair in rollers and she’s wearing a big velour robe. It’s ninety degrees outside. She’s n
uts.
“I’m not eighteen yet, Auntie. They’ll probably card me.”
“You sure about that?” she asks, a thin smile across her face.
Holy crap. It’s August 12th. The days bleed into each other so much here, I’ve lost track. It’s my birthday. I don’t know if I should be happy or sad. I’m happy that I’m finally an adult, but I’m sad that nobody seems to notice or care, not even me.
“You go down and get those cigs for me. I have a surprise for you when you get back, ok? You think I would forget my only niece’s eighteenth birthday?”
I kiss her on the cheek. I know that no matter how boring she is, I really am the only woman left in the family that she has. Maybe I should be more thankful for the time we’ve got to spend together this summer. She hands me a wad of cash and I pull out my driver’s license from my purse. I’m an adult now. I could run away and nobody could stop me.
It really doesn’t count as running away if the only place you want to go is back home, though. Back to my true home. Up on the mountain.
6
I wake up to the sun shining through my window, warming me as I blink open my eyes and kick off my comforter. I turn my head and look out into the yard, checking for the mother and fawn who have been visiting me every day this summer. I love watching them come and eat the apples off the ground that have fallen from my tree. They know I’m watching them as they stand there with their ears perked up, staring right at me as they chew away, and I feel like we have a secret understanding going or something. They know they’re safe here by my little trailer in the woods where nobody can ever find me unless they’re looking for me.
Mr. Gingerbread is dancing on my stomach, kneading me with his paws and bawling dramatically. If I’ve learned anything about him in the last fifteen years, it’s that when he’s hungry, he’s a huge asshole.
I don’t feel like getting out of bed yet. I don’t have to work until late tonight at the bar. Still, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and my knees crack and pop as I try and get myself upright for the day. I’m getting to an age where I need to start thinking about more reasonable footwear. Years of stilettos have got my feet all sorts of jacked up.
Mr. Gingerbread is unrelenting, damn near screaming as he weaves himself in and out of my legs.
“What’s your deal, dude?” I ask him. “You’re wound up tight today.”
I can barely make it down the hallway without tripping over him. I start a pot of coffee in the kitchen for myself while I pull out a can of food from the cupboard and begin to prep it for him. The smell makes me want to throw up. I can’t stand this canned stuff, but Mr. Gingerbread is getting old and losing teeth and it’s all he can eat anymore. I try and forget the fact that any day he’s still alive is a good day, but it’s always on my mind. He’s not the little kitten I liberated from my Aunt Mary’s hoard way back when.
“There you go, little guy,” I assure him, setting his bowl on the floor. I pour myself a cup of coffee, grab my Kindle, and go out on the front porch to do my morning reading ritual. I might not have a life of romance myself, but I am totally okay with getting lost in other people’s love lives for an hour or two.
My garbage cans are empty. I don’t remember hearing anyone pull into my driveway, but I’m thankful anyway, especially after the raccoon mess last night. Usually I have to borrow someone’s truck so I can take my trash down to the dumpster at the clubhouse. Having someone come pick it up for me almost makes me feel normal. Like a normal person living in a normal house with modern conveniences like trash pick up.
I bet it was Brooks. I smile to myself. Him and Gavin probably stopped by in the truck before they left for their trip.
I put my feet up on the porch swing, sprawling out while the morning sun kisses my face, and look for something that’s going to keep me entertained. Maybe something about a mountain man who rescues a princess from her life as a slave.
The storm door springs open with a creak and Mr. Gingerbread is taking off like a bat out of hell.
“Shit,” I mutter. I don’t let the old guy outside anymore. He tends to get lost for days at a time, and I end up worried sick. I chase after him in my bare feet as he stalks across the lawn. He heads right to the rhododendron tree in front of my bedroom window. He’s probably looking for a bird slower than he is to sacrifice.
“Gingerbread, come on, you asshole,” I yell, watching him bound from branch to branch, leaves shaking to the ground. I stand underneath the tree as he climbs around, letting him get whatever this is out of his system. After about five minutes of chaos, I’ve decided he’s had enough excitement for the day.
I step inside the tangled up branches, and something strange catches my eye. There’s a spot on the ground that looks like footprints dried into a muddy puddle.
Shivers run down my spine. Big boot prints. Obviously someone much larger than me. I slip my feet into the divots and glance through the branches. It’s a perfect view right to my bed. I immediately feel nauseous.
I feel like my personal space has been seriously compromised. My little haven away from the chaos. The only place I have to myself to do the things I want to do with nobody up in my business.
Someone is up in my business.
Someone who’s wallet is laying on the ground next to me feet. It’s just your basic black leather. It could belong to anyone. My heart pumps as I bend over to pick it up. I don’t know if I actually want to know who it belongs to.
7
Brooks:
Gavin pulls into my driveway bright and early, laying on the horn of his big black truck. I’m still trying to get myself moving for the day. When I left Esther’s last night, I was just so full of mixed emotions, it was damn near impossible to wind down.
Sadness.
Gloom.
Regret.
And an erection that just wouldn’t quit. I feel like maybe I should’ve called a doctor after four hours like they tell you to do on the Viagra commercials, but the feelings I have for Esther are all natural. It took everything in me not to go back over to her house last night, to see what she was doing after I left. It’s a sick compulsion. And I almost got busted. Almost.
I grab my backpack and toss it in the back seat of the truck. I take a long draw from my big-ass thermos of coffee, hoping I can at least white-knuckle my way through the first couple hours of the day until we get camp set up.
Working on moonshine stills is something Gavin and I have done together since we were young bucks. My father and his grandfather taught us the art. They left it in our hands to keep it alive. Now, we turn a pretty decent profit supplying the two bars the Misfits own and the local strip club with our wares.
The only thing that sucks is that in the mountains of Pennsylvania, you gotta work with the seasons. And the seasons are never predictable. So in the summer, we try to go as hard as possible, get as much product out as we can. We’ve always talked about one day maybe going legit, doing our legacy proud, but that’s just a pipe dream. Maybe when we retire.
“You look like shit,” Gavin says as I hop in the front seat of the truck.
“Sorry, asshole. I didn’t want to get too pretty to spend the next couple days in the woods with you. I know how handsy you get.”
“Fuck off. Did you eat breakfast?”
I barely had time to throw on clothes. He was honking his horn and I was hitting the snooze alarm. I grabbed the same jeans I was wearing yesterday, put together a backpack of essentials, grabbed some coffee, and here I am. Almost all there.
“No.”
“Me neither. Sloan was up with the baby all night. Wanna go to the truck stop while we’re downtown getting supplies?”
“Sounds good to me. We gotta stop at Esther’s and get her trash first. A raccoon got into it last night.”
Gavin stares at me with a goofy smile on his face.
“How’d she con you into that?”
“Can’t we just do nice shit for your sister? She’d do the same for you.”<
br />
He raises his eyebrows.
“Brooks, she would take my trash and throw it all over my front yard and then light it on fire just for fun. Don’t even with that shit. You baby her.”
“Well, somebody has to. You think what she does for the club is fun for her? You think it’s easy? She needs to know that we’re looking out for her.”
“Listen. I love my sister as much as you do. Probably more. She has a choice. She’s always had a choice. Nobody’s forcing her to do the things she does. I’m sure the first time she finds a way out, she’ll be long gone and that trailer will turn into a shelter for feral cats. She’s a grown woman. I’ve spent my whole life fighting for her. If she ever asks me for help, I’ll do whatever it takes. But everyone who wants to be a part of this club has to do things they don’t want to do sometimes.”
I don’t even respond. I hear it in his voice, the way he says these things to make himself feel better without really meaning it. If he really meant it, we wouldn’t be pulling into her driveway right now. We grab her trash bags and throw them into the bed of the truck.
“How do you even know about the raccoon anyway?” he asks as we head down the hill to the clubhouse.
“I was dropping off her mail last night.” I shrug.
“Damn, dude. What do you call someone who’s pussy-whipped without the pussy part?”
“It’s called being a human being, Gavin.”
“I’ve known you my whole life, Brooks,” he laughs. “The way you’ve plundered your way through every dark hole that falls into your gravitational pull. You’re definitely not a human being.”
“You can’t judge me. I’m pretty sure you stood in line and waited for me to finish plundering so you could get your turn more than once.”
