by DD Prince
I threw a grey t-shirt at him and the two black socks that were sticking out of his boots. He just stood there. The shirt fell on my bed, nowhere near him.
I picked up a heavy black motorcycle boot and then I heaved that at him, with a grunt, and he dodged it. I threw the other one. He didn’t manage to dodge that one and it hit him in the shin. He grunted and then advanced and got me and pinned me to the bed, just as I was reaching for the lamp on my bedside table.
“Gorgeous, settle down. Talk to me.”
I grunted and fought. He had me pinned. Just like that first night at the cabin. I went lax, knowing that struggling would just make him get sexual.
He loosened the grip.
“Baby, please, settle down. I’m not goin’ anywhere. We have to talk this out. If you don’t wanna do it now, we’ll do it in the morning. Let’s just sleep on it. Okay?”
“No. You’re not welcome here.” I raised my voice. “Pippa? Pip! Call the cops!”
He put his hand over my mouth, “Bronto, don’t let her call the cops!” he yelled.
“She’s crashed,” Bronto sounded like he was just outside the door. “That girl can sleep through anything. Don’t worry, Ride.”
Damn. He was right, too.
I slapped his hand away from my face.
“Get out,” I demanded.
He shook his head.
“Get out. Get out. GET OUT!”
“I told you I wouldn’t give up on you. I’m not giving up on you.”
“I thought that was sweet, yeah. When I didn’t want you to give up on me. Or when I wasn’t sure. Now I’m sure. Give up.”
“No.” His face was serious.
“Get out. I told you I was done. You left. Why are you here?”
“Jenna.”
“Get out of my apartment.”
“I was giving you a few hours to cool your head. For me to cool mine.”
“Mine isn’t cool. It won’t ever be. So go.” I pointed at the door.
“Shoulda brought the cuffs,” he muttered.
“Oh, fuck off,” I sneered.
“You don’t want me to go,” he said and got up off me.
I sat up.
“I do.”
“Want me to tell you how I know you don’t?” He asked, looking smug. “Right after I spank your ass for tellin’ me to fuck off?”
“Fuck off. Fuck off, fuck off, fuck off! Right now. You and Bronto, both go. I’m done. I’m gonna fly out tomorrow, get the fuck outta Dodge. Ella can call me when all this shit is over.”
“You can’t go. You have a business to run.” He was smiling.
“I probably don’t. My mother’s probably in the middle of selling it right now. And I need to get the fuck away from you. That’s all I want right now.”
His expression dropped.
I stormed out to the living room. Bronto was on the edge of the couch, looking stressed with his head in his hands.
“Go home, Bronto. You’re done here,” I said.
“You can go, Bront. I’ll be here at night, so you can sleep in your own bed.” Rider was behind me. I whipped around and glared at him. He was doing up his jeans.
“Actually, I do need to go, Ride. My gran called and reminded me she needs me to take her to an early appointment. I was talkin’ to Scoot. We were thinkin’ of switching for the morning.”
“That’ll work,” Rider told him.
“But, Scoot’s crashed at my place. He can’t go back home tonight. Somethin’s gone down there, and my gran doesn’t let anyone sleep on her sofa.”
“Text Scoot. You run home, and he can come here and crash on the couch.”
“Do not tell him someone can crash on my couch!” I snapped. “Go, Bronto. And tell Scooter I don’t give a rat’s ass where he sleeps. He can sleep with you for all I care.”
Bronto’s face went sad.
I rolled my eyes. “Fuck this shit. Both of you get out!”
“Settle, Jenna.” Rider was looking annoyed with me.
I whirled around and went into my room and slammed the door and locked it. And then I started dragging my dressing table. It was effing heavy. Bottles, jars, everything scattered to the floor as I dragged it.
I put the table against the door. And then I dragged suitcases and boxes from my walk-in closet and piled all of them under the table and in front of the table, barricading myself in and him out. And then I went to my bedside table and downed the rest of the bottle of water I’d brought to bed with me. I climbed in and shut the lamp off.
Fucking jerk stupid shithead asshole. I couldn’t believe his nerve. Climbing in bed with me, like our conversation today didn’t happen. Did he take anything seriously? And naked! Stupid jerk.
I fluffed my pillow up. If he dared try to come back in here, I’d lose my shit.
And then it dawned on me. What I was wearing.
I was wearing that stupid, stupid effing sweatshirt. I’d put it on with little jersey sleep shorts to sleep in, deciding I’d sleep in it one more time and burn it in the morning. I had this whole plan to take it out to the chimenea and torch it. I just decided to wear it one more night. That was why he’d been so cocky saying that I didn’t want him to go.
Mortified.
I did want him to go. I was just being stupidly sentimental about this sweatshirt like an idiot. I tore it over my head and threw it and then stomped to my dresser and yanked out a tank top.
I heard the doorknob jiggle.
“Jenna, lemme in, babe.”
“Fuck you!’ I shouted. “You fuck with that door I will call the goddamn cops. I have my phone in my hand!” I reached for it and held it up. Like an idiot. As if he could see through doors.
He didn’t answer. I waited. Nothing.
Okay, good. Maybe he left. I heard a door close. I strained to hear and heard two car doors slam from out back. That was promising. Maybe they’d both left. I looked out the window. Rider’s car was still here. Bronto’s wasn’t. Maybe they left together in Bronto’s car. I rolled over and tried to get more comfortable.
God, I was never so effing angry in my life. How the hell was Pippa sleeping through this?
If they both did go, I certainly hoped I wasn’t being watched by their enemies. And I hoped they’d locked the door. Fear prickled up my spine.
I tossed and turned.
I tossed and turned some more. I reshuffled the pillows around and pulled my blankets up some more and a scent hit my nose.
Was he back here? It was his scent. It was a faint fabric softener, male body wash, and green apple smell mixed with the smell of leather and outside. Yes, I could smell all those things.
Why?
I flicked my lamp on and saw the source of the scent. The gray t-shirt I’d flung at him. It was draped half over the pillow beside the one my head had been on.
I flicked the lamp off and reached for it and held it up. I was about to give it a toss. I didn’t. I held it up in the air for what felt like an eternity, before bringing it to my nose.
My eyes closed as I inhaled it. It was super-soft and it was also warm, and that made it worse.
My heart was bleeding.
I had to hold firm with him, because this wouldn’t ever work. Not ever. We weren’t right for one another. Even if I wished with everything in me, that we were.
This hurt ten times worse than Michael in high school. A hundred times worse. Because even though I thought I’d kept up a bit of a wall, evidently it wasn’t nearly enough.
I silently cried. And cried some more, until my eyes drifted shut, the t-shirt still held to my face, visions of all the things I loved about him streaming on a loop in my brain.
***
My alarm clock was blaring at me to get up. I got up and got right into the shower. And then I got into my bath robe and shoved the door blockade stuff out of the way enough to get out of my room.
In the living room, I saw Rider sitting on my white couch, in his jeans, and Scooter was crashed on the rug, using
a toss pillow and a throw from the couch as his blanket. Rider was using the pillow and the blanket I’d put out for Bronto before things went mental last night.
I glared at him.
“What are you doing here?”
“Told ya I wasn’t leavin’,” he said, sleepily. “Scoot. Wake up.” He nudged Scooter’s back with his foot. Scooter’s eyes opened, and he smiled. “Mornin’.”
Pippa was coming out of the other bathroom. She was in her little black sexy short satin robe, hair up in a top knot, sexy librarian black-rimmed eyeglasses on, and looking fresh as a daisy and all smiles.
“Lookie here. Full house,” she smirked. “Want me to make pancakes?”
“I like pancakes,” Scooter said, getting to his feet and stretching.
I went to the kitchen, deciding to ignore them, and made myself a coffee.
Rider was behind me, slipping his arm around my middle, pulling my back to his front. I froze.
“We’ll talk tonight. I gotta get to the garage. Scoot’s gonna shadow you all day. He’s carryin’. Boys’ll do drive bys regularly. Okay, baby?”
I didn’t answer him. I was too angry.
“Tonight, we’ll talk, Jenna.” He kissed my neck and then he left via my kitchen door.
And I didn’t know whether to throw something, to scream, or to throw myself on the floor and have a toddler tantrum.
Scooter was in the kitchen with me. “Got coffee on the go yet?”
I growled at him. Right at him. He reared back and went, “Whoa. Sorry. I can get it.”
“Fucking bullshit,” I hissed and stormed out of there and headed to my bedroom so that I could get dressed, hearing him grumble something about him probably not getting pancakes, either.
My bedroom looked like a crime scene, so I started trying to put things back where they belonged. I got my boxes of Christmas decorations back in my closet and put the suitcases away.
Because I’d dragged my dressing table over to the door and it was now back, everything from that was all over the place, too. Bottles of perfume, a big vase filled with make-up brushes toppled, several nail polishes, they were all over the rug. A blush palate had broken and made a mess all over my rug. I spied his black Duffle bag from the cabin and the clubhouse on my floor and I glared at it. If I didn’t know he’s lost almost all his belongings in a fire, I would’ve thrown that stuff off the roof terrace. I couldn’t though. So, I just got angrier.
I began slamming bottles and jars back onto my table and wasn’t being very gentle about it when I heard, “Hey.”
I whirled around, and Ella was standing there. And she looked alarmed.
“I’ve gotta get to the salon,” I said quickly. “If you have anything to say to me, do it there while I open up. I need a minute to get dressed.”
Ella’s expression fell, then she took a step back. I closed the door and tried to gather my senses.
I hadn’t seen or spoken to Ella in days and days. And I just closed the door in her face.
My God, I was coming undone. I’d ended it with Rider. I was probably losing my salon and my apartment. And I was trashing my relationship with my best friend since kindergarten.
God. I had to get my head together. My luck, my mother would show up here any minute.
After a minute with my forehead pressed to the door, I turned around and got dressed in a pair of black trousers and a black blouse, to match my mood. I put on high heels and quickly put some basic make-up on, ignoring his dopp kit in my bathroom and his toothbrush sitting there beside the sink. I grabbed my phone and my bag, and left, not even making my stupid bed.
I always made my bed.
***
“How’s her heart, Ride?” Ella was calling out to Rider when I got out back. She was standing there with Deacon and she looked pissed.
“I’m working on winning it,” Rider said, looking at me, sitting on his motorcycle. The motorcycle he’d taken me for my very first ride on. Why was he still here?
“Don’t bet on that,” I snapped as I gave him a dirty look.
The way he looked at me turned my bones to water.
“Oh, I am betting on it. In fact, I’ll bet my Harley.” He communicated something with a jerk of his chin and I glanced back and saw he was looking at Scooter, who was behind me. Being my literal shadow. Rider looked at me again and his eyes pierced through me, lanced my gut. I tried to hide what I was feeling.
I’m pretty sure he saw right through it. He put his shades on and left, on his bike.
My chest was aching.
His car was still here, too, so obviously he had plans to come back.
I had eyes on me. Ella’s and Deacon’s and Ella’s were filled with concern. I stormed through the alley to the front door of the building, unlocked it, and went to my alarm panel, hitting buttons and flicking lights on. Ella was in the utility room with me a minute later. I offered her a coffee.
“Yeah,” she agreed to coffee. “And girl talk. What time is your first appointment?”
“Not for an hour.”
“Good.”
Ella shut the door. I burst into tears.
Ella’s jaw hit the floor and then she wrapped her arms around me and I buried my face into her blonde curls and kept bawling.
And then I filled her in. On everything. And I cried in her arms. And she cried with me. We used ¾ of a box of Kleenex. And she got mad at Rider for me. And she got mad at me, too. She told me I needed to talk to him. To let him in, so we could work it out. She told me that it was going to be worth it.
“To be his. To have that big extended family. To be my sister-in-law. Because I know in my soul that one day I’ll be marrying Deacon. And I can tell. Rider? He’s got work cut out for him, but if he’s anything like he seems like he is, he’ll do that work, Jenna, and you’ll get your happily ever after.”
I told her I loved her, but she needed to give me space on this. And like the good friend she was, she did. She gave my hand a squeeze, promised we’d do a girlie night very soon. She ordered me to be nice to Bronto, said she’d heard I was sending him careening toward a nervous breakdown because I was giving him so much shit. Hardly. I agreed to be gentle with the six foot five three-hundred-pound scary biker.
And then, ten minutes after she left the salon, my effing fricking fracking mother showed up.
Damn it!
18
It was only ten minutes before opening. Ella had gone, and Scooter was sitting in my waiting area, reading a Maxim magazine. I’d already made him remove his boots from my coffee table, but he was still sort of sprawled.
My mother was at the locked door of the shop. Lips pursed. Eyes narrowed. Flanked by Bronto and his grandmother.
Bronto looked like he’d prefer to be anywhere but here. His grandmother was smiling and waving at me through the glass.
I unlocked the door and knew my face was betraying my emotions. My mother scowled at me as she pushed past me, her shoulder knocking mine and physically causing me to stumble. Bronto looked alarmed and glanced at Scooter.
His Gran, written in my book as “Theodore’s grandmother. N. C”. N: new. C: coupon, was smiling at me, having missed it.
Pippa wasn’t in yet. She didn’t have her first appointment for an hour and a half. Plus, she’d told me the night before that she was taking her time for at least a week in the mornings, since she’d opened and closed every day while I was gone.
I gave my mother, dressed in a bone-colored power suit, tan blouse, and sensible bone-colored heels, a tight smile and said, “Good morning. Can you give me a minute?”
Her eyes narrowed as she looked over her shoulder at Bronto, dressed in status quo Dominion Brotherhood attire, and then her eyes bounced to Scooter, who was sitting in one of my barrel leather waiting-area chairs, dressed almost the same. Jeans. Leather vest. T-shirt. Looking very much like he’d slept in his clothes, which he did.
“Good morning, Theodore’s gran. Great to see you.” I craned my neck
to see around Mom and gave Bronto’s gran a smile.
Bronto’s gran moved in and put her arms around me. She was a short, stout woman with chubby cheeks and big silver curls. She had on an unbecoming shade of bright red lipstick and blushed cheeks that looked like they’d been made that way with the same lipstick. But, lipstick shade didn’t matter. She was awesome.
When she let me go, she reached into the Ikea tote bag hanging from the crook of her arm and produced a circa 1972 olive green metal cookie tin. “More snickerdoodles. This is your tip. You return this tin, I’ll refill it.”
“Oh wow. Thank you,” I hugged the tin to my chest like the cookies were a precious gift, which they were, and put the tin down on the reception desk.
“I have my coupon.” She presented it to me with a beaming smile.
“Awesome. You’re first today, so let’s get you comfortable and then we’ll try our hardest to make you even more gorgeous.” My heart seized at the G-word that’d just come out of my mouth. Ugh. Time to ban it from the Jenna-cabulary.
“Take my coat, Theodore,” she directed Bronto.
“Wash and set, Theodore’s gran?” I inquired.
She nodded. “Yes, please.”
“Okay, you’re a teensy bit early, so how about you sit in that chair or on that sofa there (I had nice matching black leather furniture in my waiting area) and give me two shakes to get you a cup of tea and have a fast chat with my mother, here, and then I’ll---"
“Oh, this is your Momma? Hello!” She reached for my mother’s hand. My mother was a banking industry suit and she put on her fake smile and shook Bronto’s gran’s hand.
“Hello. Karen Murdoch, nice to meet you.”
“I’m Theodore’s grandma. Your girl is just an absolute doll!” It was as if Mom had a clue who Theodore was.
“Thank you. We’re pretty proud of her,” my Mom said with a closed mouth exaggerated smile, and I almost barfed. She was so full of it.
I helped Bronto’s grandmother to a chair and she chided Scooter. “Scott. Sit up straight, now.” He straightened immediately, despite the fact that he was mid-texting or something like that on his phone.
