by Lane Hart
Torin gets up and heads back towards the bar. Chase gets up too. “That’s why he’s a better leader than me, I swear,” Chase mumbles, making me crack a grin. “I’m gonna go keep an eye on him 'til he gets settled in for the night, make sure he doesn’t get a wild hair up his ass and take off after what he did to Johnny. You take care of yourself. I love you, man. You’re as true a brother to me as Torin.”
“Bro, save that mushy shit for Sasha,” I grumble as Chase gives me a back slapping hug. I push him off of me, and he staggers back laughing before moving to follow Torin.
Gabriel is still sitting at the table, fingering my vest and staring at me. “You almost got yourself killed tonight,” he begins, before I raise a hand to silence him.
“Stow that shit, Gabe. You and me, we don’t have to bullshit each other. Torin and Chase can give me all their kind words, but you know me, really know me. I fucked up tonight, the same as I always do. They don’t see it that way, but…”
“Goddammit, Abe. Nobody sees it that way, except you!” Gabe says in exasperation, interrupting my moping. “I’ve been trying to pin you down and talk to you about it forever, but you’re more hardheaded than old man Turtle! In your head, you’ve always been a fuck-up, but no one else sees you that way!”
“What the hell is wrong with everyone tonight?” I growl back at him. “Christ, Torin is acting like I’m some sort of hero for going in first. I had to go in first. I’m a fucking felon who has spent his entire life letting people down. There’s nothing heroic about being a piece of shit and knowing that other people’s lives are worth more than yours.”
“Abe, if I hear you say that shit ever again, I’m going to…” Gabe begins as he stands up.
“You’ll fucking what, you scrawny little son-of-a-bitch?” I roar, standing up to tower over my brother as everyone in the room turns to look at us. As if it wasn’t obvious, the two of us had very different fathers. Mine was apparently enormous while his was light and lean.
“I’ll wait until you’ve forgotten about this conversation. And then, when you come to me for your next tattoo, I’ll draw the hairiest, most detailed cock and balls the world has ever seen on you,” Gabe threatens, whispering so that only I can hear him.
We both burst out laughing before collapsing back into our chairs. “I know you would, too, you dirty bastard,” I wheeze as I grab my beer. “You did it to me once before on my hand with a sharpie when we were kids, remember?”
“Seriously, though, Abe,” Gabe leans over the table and begins a moment later. “You’re not the fuck-up you think you are. You’ve never let me down, even…"
“Even when my dumbass got arrested and shipped off to juvie, leaving you alone to deal with our momma and whatever crackhead she was banging before you found her foaming out the mouth, OD'ing? I know what they did to you, Gabe. I know what you had to go through. I wasn’t there for you.”
“That’s not fucking on you, Abe. I never blamed you. Jesus, you got arrested that first time for shoplifting food for us. Food, man! You think I don’t remember that it was you bringing home boxes of macaroni and cheese and packs of hot dogs most nights for us? You called that shit ghetto alfredo, remember? Momma would be gone for days on benders, and the only reason I survived in that trailer was because of the risks you took. You think I don’t know who brought the presents from Santa? Shit, you remember Momma would try to steal the art supplies you had gotten for me and go pawn them.”
I chuckle softly, remembering those holidays where I had gone out breaking into cars and stealing packages from doorsteps, trying to pawn enough shit to get Gabe the stuff he needed for his drawings. My face hardens, though, knowing all too well how it turned out for him. “Yeah, Gabe, I tried. I tried and I failed. I got locked up and left you alone. What you had to endure…”
“It. Was. Not. Your. Fault.” Gabe emphasizes each word with a poke to the bruise on my chest.
I stand up, waving him off as I wince at the pain. “You’ve said that a thousand times, but the words don’t make it true. I hear them, and I appreciate them. I had something happen to me today, before all this,” I tell him, waving at the vest and bullet on the table. “Something big, I think. I met someone, and I don’t know how it’s going to turn out, but…she makes me feel…better. Not about being me, but makes me feel like I could be…”
“You met a girl who makes you want to be a better man?” Gabe says.
“Yeah! You nailed it. That’s what I’ve been trying to find the words to say. I have to see her again. I’m gonna go get cleaned up and get some sleep. Thanks, little man,” I tell Gabe, leaning down to squeeze him in a one-armed hug.
“Let me know if I can help, bro,” Gabe calls to me as I head downstairs. “And don’t do anything too crazy! I don’t think you’re a fuck-up, but you are…let’s call it impulsive?”
I bark out a laugh as I punch in the code and slam the door leading down to basement, blocking out the sounds from the bar. Despite being shot tonight, I feel good. Damned good actually, and hopeful that maybe, just maybe, I might finally be riding a clear, easy road.
Chapter Seven
Mercy
The morning after I was thoroughly fucked by one incredibly big biker, I’m still a little bit sore between my legs as I sit in my Sunday best next to my mother in a church pew. Even with the guilt of being a bad little Christian, it was well worth every second. Never in my life have I done something so spontaneous with a man I just met, knowing it would only be a one-night stand.
Or at least that’s what I’m assuming it will be. It’s not like Abe asked me for my phone number before he left, so it must not have been good enough for a second round. If it had been, he would’ve asked Sasha for my number, right? I guess I could always ask her for his to find out…
No, no, no.
This is why women can’t have casual sex with strangers. We get attached too easily. And then come all the doubts about ourselves. He hasn’t called, so he must prefer prettier women or women with bigger breasts or women who are better…
I have got to start focusing on the upcoming show instead of obsessing about my lapse in judgment. Tomorrow is our photo shoot for promos. Technically, none of the guys are supposed to speak to me so that our first introduction will be with the cameras on us as they pull up in limos, but it’ll be nice to at least get to look at them.
Already, I’m guessing that none of them will be as tall as Abe or have his long beard.
Ugh, I need to stop thinking about that man. It’s pathetic and makes me seem like a teenage girl obsessing about a boy just because he gave me a few orgasms. Okay, more than half a dozen orgasms, but still. It was a one-time thing that I did because I was ridiculously horny and curious to see if sex with a stranger could be better than with someone you’re falling in love with.
So what if I’m a little disappointed that it was a glaringly obvious YES. Who would’ve known that someone who doesn’t know a thing about you other than your name could know their way around your body better than you do?
More stabs of guilt hit me when I’m sitting in church service. Then, those stabs double later that afternoon when I'm meeting with the producers and directors of the Queen of Hearts. Even though it was just to get the schedule for the next few weeks, they reminded me that, as part of my contract, I cannot date anyone publicly until after the show finishes airing in around six months. The clock doesn’t start ticking until the first day on set, which is two days away; but for whatever reason, I still feel guilty when they are giving me the whole spiel. As long as I don’t see Abe again, I won’t sleep with him again, so it shouldn’t be a problem. He obviously doesn’t want to be with me more than the one time, and that’s fine. I don’t need to dwell on the reasons why.
After I returned home, I did some house cleaning; then changed into a pair of cotton shorts and my sports bra to go for a jog on the warm sandy beach. I don’t wear headphones to listen to music while I run, preferring the sounds of the crashing waves and
seagulls instead. It’s extremely peaceful, and I need to use my time today to stop thinking about a certain biker who had his mouth on a very intimate place on my body. It’s probably a good thing that I won’t have to see him again after how I came apart for him so easily over and over again. I’m embarrassed that I was so selfish and couldn’t be more ladylike, but how does one act ladylike sitting on a man’s face? Even though I’ve never let go like that before or had someone make me feel that good, I’m sure there are plenty of other men who are just as talented. I just haven’t met them yet. What if I never do? Oh, god. What if Abe is the best sex of my life and I never have it again with anyone else?
Those are the crazy thoughts that are bouncing around my head when I jog to my front door while unzipping the dorky fanny pack around my waist where I keep my keys and phone while I’m running. I’m so preoccupied that my tennis shoe nearly crushes the single pink rose that’s lying on my welcome mat.
A smile stretches across my face before I even realize it’s there. Who would’ve thought that the bearded biker could be so sweet? And does this mean he thought the sex was great too?
I snatch up the rose to bring it to my nose and smell it, and then see that underneath there’s also a small, folded piece of white paper with my name handwritten on the front. Wow. A note too? Maybe it says that Abe wants to see me again and he left his phone number. Not that I can see him again, but still it’s a sweet gesture.
Finally pulling my keys from my pouch, I unlock the front door and head inside to cool off and read the note in the air conditioning. I take a seat on the sofa, placing the rose next to me so that I can break through the staple holding the paper together and read it.
The first neatly typed sentence is confusing. The second sends me for a loop, making me even more confused as I go back and reread the whole entire thing again.
My dearest Mercy,
I can’t even begin to tell you how disappointed I am in your incredibly slutty behavior. After waiting a year for you to come back to me, you repay my patience by having intercourse with a man you don’t even know rather than me, your undeniable soulmate.
Worst of all, I know that you didn’t use a condom because there wasn’t a wrapper in the trash you put out today. Don’t you know how disgusting that is and how many diseases you could pass on to me by being so careless?
Despite your horrible mistake, I forgive you because I love you, even though you haven’t yet realized that I’m the man for you. But you will love me too. I’m sure of that. It’s impossible for you to fight the pull toward me forever.
Until that time, don’t make the same mistake again.
Your One and Only.
Holy shit.
It’s not from Abe.
In fact, I don’t know who the hell left such bizarre words.
My first reaction is to the lock the front door, but not even doing that will make me feel safe since whoever the insane person is who wrote the letter could be lurking outside. He must have been here yesterday if he knew I had sex with Abe and then again today when he went through my trash! Yuck. How disgusting.
Without even bothering to change out of my sweaty clothes, I crush the offending paper in my hand. Looking out the window, I check to see if anyone is lurking around. Since I don’t see a single soul, I quickly step outside and lock my door before racing toward my car. As soon as the driver’s door shuts, I press the button to lock the automatic door and then toss the letter into the passenger seat so that I can crank the engine to hightail it out of my neighborhood.
Since I haven’t been back in town for very long or spoken to many people, the first person I think of to call is Sasha, since there’s no way I can explain this to my mother. I pull my phone from my fanny pack and carefully call her on speed dial while driving. My hand holding the phone to my ear shakes the whole time it rings.
“Hey, girl!” Sasha answers right away.
“I think I have a stalker,” I blurt out since I’m not entirely sure where to begin.
“You have a what? A stalker?” she asks.
“Yes,” I reply while checking my rearview to make sure no one is following me when I leave the neighborhood and head north for the highway.
“What happened?” Sasha asks.
“I went for a run and…and when I came back to the house, there was a note with a rose. I thought it was from Abe, you know? But it wasn’t. Whoever the hell he is knows what I’ve been doing and admitted that he went through my trash!”
“Oh, my god,” Sasha mutters. “You can’t stay there alone!”
“I know!” I reply. “I left. Right now I’m in my car.”
“You should come to our place. I’ll text you the address. It’s off the main roads and so rural that we’ll be able to see if someone follows you,” she offers.
“Okay, thanks. I’m heading that way now,” I say when I take the exit for the northern beaches.
“Be careful!” Sasha warns before we disconnect.
Once she’s no longer on the phone, I’m even more terrified because it feels like I’m completely alone. Maybe I should’ve kept talking to her.
No, that’s ridiculous. I’m safe in my car.
Glancing swiftly over my shoulder at the stop sign, I check to make sure there’s no one hiding in the backseat like in a scary movie. Nope, all clear, thank goodness.
About half way to the Emerald Isle, I start to wonder if I’m making a big deal out of nothing. Am I overreacting? After I show Sasha the note, I’m sure she’ll be honest with me and tell me if I’m freaking out for no reason.
But then, when I get to the main strip of town and I’m sitting at a stoplight, I glance over and see the typed note I tossed in the passenger seat. The words slutty and condom wrapper jump out, and I’m certain that this is not your garden variety stalker. This person actually went through my things, my trash, for christsakes.
Once I’m in town, it takes me only a few more minutes to follow the directions Sasha sent to my phone.
When I see a truck, a shiny black Harley and her classic Mustang convertible that she’s had since she was a teenager in the driveway of a two-story white house, I’m certain I have the right place.
Sasha must have heard me coming. She’s running down the porch stairs before I can get out of my car.
I gather up my keys, phone and the note in my hands and then climb out.
“Hey,” Sasha says when she meets me in front of the hood of my car and wraps her arms around me.
“Sorry, I’m a mess. I didn’t shower after I ran…” I start to say.
“No, don’t worry about that. We’ll find you some clothes,” she says when she pulls away. “So is that the note?” she asks with her eyes lowered to the piece of paper clutched in my hand.
“Yeah,” I say. “Read it and see if I’m just being paranoid. Tell me the truth.”
Since my hands are a little full, Sasha carefully reaches for the corner of the paper with her two fingertips to pull it free. I watch her face as she reads the words. Her blue eyes widen, and her jaw drops open early on.
When she looks back up at me, she says, “This person is fucking insane!”
I release the breath I didn’t know I was holding, relieved that I didn’t drive an hour up here for something silly.
“That was my first reaction too,” I admit. “But I wasn’t sure.”
“And we’ll have to come back to the part about Abe later,” she says with a small smile before she turns toward the house and puts an arm around my shoulders. “Come on in. Do you mind if I show the letter to Chase?”
“No, please do. It’d be nice to get a guy’s perspective on it too,” I say as I follow her up the steps to the porch. Before I step inside their home, I glance behind me toward the road just to be certain that no one followed me. The gravel road is clear.
“Chase, baby?” Sasha calls out as she starts down a short hallway that leads to the kitchen where her man is washing dishes. If I weren’t so freaked out, I’
d probably be impressed by how odd a man in a leather cut looks while being all domesticated.
“Yeah, sweetheart?” Chase asks over his shoulder. “Oh, hey, Mercy.”
“Hey, sorry for dropping in on such short notice,” I tell him.
“You’re fine,” he says with a shake of his head.
“Read this,” Sasha says, holding out the note to him. Chase rinses his hands under the faucet and then dries them off on a dish cloth before taking the piece of paper from her. One of his reddish-blond eyebrows arches within seconds, and then he curses under his breath.
“This dude is certifiable,” Chase eventually looks up and tells me and Sasha when he hands the paper back to her and then she gives it to me. I set it down on the counter, because I feel icky just touching something that came from someone so freaking disturbed.
“Mercy should stay here with us tonight, shouldn’t she?” Sasha asks Chase when she steps into his side and his arm goes around her back.
“Hell yes,” Chase replies. “You shouldn’t be alone until you figure out who this fucker is and have him locked up. Any clue who it could be?” he asks.
“No,” I answer. “I thought about it on the drive here. And while I’ve received some pretty intense fan letters through my agent and even some perverted ones, none have actually known intimate details like this about me. I mean, I just moved into the house, so how did they know where I lived?” I ask aloud.
“They’ve been following you,” Chase concludes. “Maybe found out where you were thanks to the paparazzi and then were stealthy about following you back home.”
