Morrison

by Chelsea Camaron

  There was too much at risk, though.

  I got in on a ticket from Marshall. Then Jamie called a guy who knew a guy who knew another guy, and we scored the golden cards for Hendrix and Jagger. Marshall didn’t look at all pleased when I arrived with guests.

  Too bad, so sad, big guy.

  I know somewhere inside him, there is a heart. He just owes too much to Monte to get out. I don’t know what will happen if Monte finds out that Marshall was my way in. I couldn’t think on it. I had to remain focused, cash in, and pay off my husband.

  I had just enough saved for my buy-in. I will have to work to repay my ticket out here, but I’m free.

  What an amazing feeling!

  Outside, I paced back and forth, desperately hoping Morrison was okay. My gut twisted. My intuition screamed that there was more going on than I knew. The way Morrison was taunting Monte through me, playing him.

  But why? This is my battle to fight.

  I won what I needed—debt paid in full. So why, I wondered, is Morrison still in there? We’re even. Why not cash in and come out?

  Watching him when he finally does walk out, I know something is off. He doesn’t rush over to me. There is no fairy-tale sweep-me-off-my feet kind of embrace.

  No, I get told we are going to eat, I’m going home, and he will be a day behind.

  Before I can ponder his brush-off, Marshall exits, with Monte right behind him. Then Marshall pins my stare in a way that lets me know I need to choose my words carefully.

  Choose.

  I can’t stop the smile that builds as Monte approaches. I get a choice. Finally!

  I feel the Caldwell brothers tense behind me as they all fall in at my shoulders. Jagger moves to step up to Marshall, but I reach out and gently grasp his forearm.

  It warms my heart to know he would go toe to toe for me, but this is a world he doesn’t live in. There is a code, and he can’t cross that line, or I’ll be in debt again before any of us can blink.

  “The papers will be delivered midweek,” Monte says while studying me.

  No tells. Give him no tells, I remind myself.

  “Monte, you should know our marriage wasn’t legal. We never had witnesses sign, nor did the officiant.” Before I left, Livi had done some research, and she found no record at the courthouse that I was ever legally married to Sean “Monte” Timmons, because the marriage certificate was never completed. In addition, my social security card still reads “Hailey Sue Poe,” as does my new Michigan driver’s license.

  “Hard Knocks, you should know I would’ve never legally tied you to my assets. I’m talking about the paperwork for Marisa. My rights are relinquished.”

  My heartbeat thunders loudly in my ears, my face giving it all away as I struggle to maintain my composure.

  Monte smirks at me in a way that can only be described as pure menace. “I’m a lot of things, Hailey, most of them not good, but I am a man of my word in business. Checks and balances, Hard Knocks. You caught a break. Balance is paid in full”—he moves his gaze from me to Morrison—“for you and Marisa. You’re free.”

  Monte turns and walks off as Morrison’s arm comes around my shoulders. When he is a few feet away, he looks over his shoulder at me, then says to Morrison, “I had her first; I’ll have her last. And when she comes crawling back, I’ll make her pay the price for me not being the only one to have had her pussy.”

  Morrison steps out to advance on Monte as Marshall shakes his head at me.

  “Morrison, stop! He’s not worth it,” I say.

  He stops and looks at me.

  “Be the good,” I whisper. “Don’t be him.”

  “Aces, you got what you came here for tonight. Hope it was worth your game, because you won’t play here again. This is my city.” Monte stares back at me. “Hailey, when the hard knocks hit you once again, I’ll be waiting, and you won’t have it as good this time around.”

  After a moment, he turns away and makes his exit, as chills run down my spine and my mind races.

  I get a shoulder squeeze from Jagger and another from Hendrix, while Morrison only stares at me.

  “What does he mean you can’t play here again? What happened in there, Morrison?”

  “Nothing for you to worry about.” He looks to his brothers. “Let’s eat, then get you guys on a plane and back to Ris Priss.”

  There is a distance between us that I don’t understand. I am free. Tonight, I won. I earned my way out. This should be a happy time, but I feel like it’s clouded by something. I just don’t know what.

  Jagger and Hendrix seem to read something in Morrison that I am missing; as a result, dinner is quick and quiet. I am not used to being free. Now I am. I am free, and I need to quit questioning everything and just be in the moment, at least for now.

  We go back to Morrison’s place until our flight in the morning. As the guys hang out together, I go to Morrison’s room and read to Marisa, using video chat from Livi’s cellphone to mine. Seeing her face smile on the small screen, I feel the first wave of calm I’ve ever felt in my entire life.

  She is my reason for being. She is everything.

  I finish up my call, then make my way to the living room, where I can hear voices in the kitchen.

  “Fuck it! Leave it all. I don’t need the clothes. I got nothing personal here. Home is Detroit; this was a crash pad. Let the kid have it all,” I hear Morrison say to his brothers.

  What is going on?

  “You really gave it to the kid?” Jagger comes back.

  “Nope, I sold it to the kid. I was off my game. She does that to me. Why the fuck did you bring her here? If she hadn’t won, if I hadn’t sold out, do you realize how badly this could have gone down?”

  “But it didn’t.” This comes from Hendrix, the calm one in everything.

  My phone rings, alerting the guys to my location. Looking down at the screen, I see it’s Jamie and try to act like I haven’t heard anything as I answer.

  “You won!” she shrieks.

  “I won enough to get out from under his control,” I say proudly.

  “You comin’ back?”

  “Oh, honey, I wish. I don’t think this is the place for me and Marisa, though. I don’t want to look over my shoulder. I don’t want to remember anything from here except walking away with my baby girl and our friendship. This isn’t the place for me.”

  “I’m gonna miss you.” The sadness in her voice is evident. It hurts, but this isn’t the place for me or my daughter—or for Jamie.

  “Detroit has all the flash for ya, babe. You could have a fresh start with us,” I say, silently begging her to agree.

  “Who knows? Maybe when my shit is sorted. You know I can’t leave until I have my own marker repaid.”

  “I’m learning.” I sigh. “From all of this, I’ve learned love isn’t about owing or owning. Love, life, and relationships aren’t checks and balances. I don’t know what they are exactly, but they’re not being someone’s possession. Hold on to that, Jamie, and hold on to the beautiful woman you are inside.”

  “Love you, Hailey.”

  “Love you too, babe. I’ll phone when I land tomorrow.”

  Ending the call, I feel sad for my friend, but apart from that, I feel excitement. My future is in front of me, and for the first time ever, it’s looking bright.

  Lying down, I wait for Morrison to come to bed. He doesn’t.

  When morning comes, I make my way to the kitchen to find him standing with his brothers around the island.

  “Good morning,” I say to the room, barely above a whisper.

  “Morning, Hailey,” both Hendrix and Jagger greet. Morrison merely studies me, saying nothing.

  “Gonna get our shit ready,” Jagger states as he grabs a cup of coffee and exits. Hendrix nods and does the same.

  “Did you sleep well?” I ask nonchalantly.

  “No.”

  “You could’ve come to bed.”

  “Hailey, I’m not gonna use you like that. Y
ou’re free, and you’re gonna get used to feeling that before I climb back in bed with you. It’s gonna take every bit of self-control I don’t have to stay away, but I’m going to give you this space.”

  I don’t know what to say to him, so I ask the question that has been in the forefront of my mind since last night. “Why aren’t you coming home with us?”

  “Giving you space, little momma. Get home to your girl. I’ll be there tomorrow. I have some shit to sort here, anyway.”

  Cautiously, I make my way over to him, and when I am right in front of him, I look into his blue eyes, which seem to be covering up a slew of emotions.

  “Is it safe for you to stay behind?”

  “You worried?”

  I bite my bottom lip. “Yes,” I whisper.

  He looks over my head to the wall behind me as he contemplates my answer. “You don’t owe me, Hailey. Do you understand that? There is no obligation.”

  “I know that, Morrison.” I blink back tears as all kinds of emotions fill me. “I don’t…I don’t…what…how…? I don’t want anything to happen to you.” I sigh, unable to get the words out right.

  He simply looks at me, trying to read me.

  “Morrison, I don’t know if I could’ve done any of this without you.”

  He wraps his arms around me and holds me close to him, not saying a word as we just live in this embrace.

  “I’m gonna give you space, little momma, but I’m never far away.” He leans back to reach up and tip my chin to him, then brushes his lips against mine. “I’ve always got your back. You need a little room, but I’m still here. I just gotta give you time for you to make some choices for yourself.”

  He’s always got my back.

  Choices. I have choices, and he’s letting me make them. This all feels good…too good.

  Chapter 15

  Morrison

  It was tough putting them in a cab and saying goodbye. I made Hendrix promise to text when they were boarding the plane. When he did, I was throwing a few things in my suitcase, getting ready to head out myself. But first, I had Wheels and my attorney stopping over.

  Needless to say, Wheels was stoked when he saw the place, while my lawyer told me I was an idiot, that no ass was worth this. So, I told him like it is.

  I came here to find a new life, strike gold, and become a better man than my father. I was leaving for a new life, a much better man than that fuck. I got what I came for, and now it is time to go home. Hell, Detroit is different now. There is good there. Fuck gold! I have platinum.

  Wheels extended an open invitation and even told me that after sleeping on it he didn’t feel right about this whole thing. I told him to shut the hell up and be happy. The kid smiled and nodded, and then we settled up everything we could. Whatever else needs to be done can be done through the mail.

  He’s okay with me leaving Hailey’s car till I can get it back to Detroit. I was gonna let her decide if she even wanted the thing back, but I may just have him pawn the title and walk. That way, she’ll have some cash toward one that is suitable for Ris Priss to ride in. Besides, the kid looked good in the Escalade, and she should always ride in style like that.

  When everything is finished up, I decide to take one last spin down the Strip. I want to catch a glimpse, get photos in my head of the places where I fucked around as Aces. I was acting a part then that I know now I never really was. It ain’t all bad, though. Actually, it feels damn good.

  I stop at a light by Caesars and look in my mirror to see a truck with blacked-out windows, and the fucker is so close I can almost smell his breath. Next light, same shit.

  It’s getting under my skin a bit when I hang a right to head out of town and Shitbag is still there.

  Letting my temper get the best of me, I hit the gas, and then the light ahead turns red. I stop on a dime and look in my mirror. The fucker is there again—and he ain’t slowing down. I look at the light, still red, and then at the cars coming through the light in both directions. I have nowhere to go.

  I brace myself right before the collision of metal, the fucker still spinning his tires and literally climbing up my ass. I smash the brakes to the ground, realizing whoever it is, they are pushing me into the intersection. The only thing I can do is hang fucking tight.

  When I hear the rear window smash, I know the crazy fucker isn’t gonna stop, so I open the door to get the fuck out. As I do, the driver’s side to the truck opens, and who is it?

  Monte fucking Timmons, holding a tire iron in his hand.

  While he comes toward me, I notice a patrol car in the parking lot of the Quickie Mart on the corner.

  “You fucking kidding me, man?” I yell at him.

  “I decided you don’t get my kid! She owes me.”

  “The kid doesn’t owe you jack!” I jump back as he swings the tire iron on me. “That all you got? My old man swung harder than that.”

  He swings again, and I duck, the swipe too fucking close for comfort. Then I see the cops sprinting from the convenience store. One runs over to us and the other to their car. I hear them yelling, but don’t pay attention to the words they are saying outside of the word “Stop!”

  “You owe me now.” He swings again, and I let it connect with my side.

  Numb, I am fucking numb to pain.

  “Come on, man. You gotta have more in you than that. Oh, snap, that’s right, you don’t. A woman like Hailey wouldn’t have left if she were satisfied.”

  A swing, a connection, and I am down. Perfect. I think this is working.

  “I’m gonna kill you, motherfucker.”

  “Give it your best shot.”

  He swings again, and I roll as tire iron hits pavement; then he drops it. No sooner do I kick it out of the way than he dives on me. Then it’s a flurry of fist-to-face connections, one right after the other.

  I laugh. “Pussy.”

  “Freeze,” I hear before I roll to my right, avoiding the last jab I planned to take before striking back.

  Monte’s fist hits the pavement, and he cries out like a little bitch before being taken down by the two Vegas police.

  I hop up and think for just a second that I should have lain there, let them think this fucker hurt me. Then I walk around my car, and what do I see? Well, that is fucking pain. The blows my ride just took were a perfect play in a game he may have started, but that I finished.

  “I’m gonna fucking kill you, Aces!” he screams as they cuff him and shove him in the back of the squad car.

  What do I say? Not a damn thing.

  I am surrounded by people who’d witnessed his attack on either my vehicle or on me, all asking if I am okay. I say nothing.

  Am I okay? Hell yes, I am. The crazy fucker was unprovoked, and I didn’t lay a finger on him. Hell, no one even heard me say a word. I made sure of it.

  Sean “Monte” Timmons is going away for a long fucking time.

  The ambulance takes me to the hospital, where I find out I have two broken ribs and a concussion, and then I get a couple stitches near my temple. Afterward, the police interview me and I file a report.

  —

  I have to stay the night since I have a head injury and they want to observe me. I get shot up with some killer drugs, then pass the hell out.

  After two days, they finally release me, and Wheels gives me a ride to Hailey’s car. Then I take it to where my Porsche has been towed, only to find out she is a mangled mess. I have Monte’s insurance information and have sent in the police report and pictures. I will hear back from the insurance company in a week. I am offered a rental but decline.

  I grab my duffel bag and suitcase, shove them in the back of Hailey’s car, close it up, and slide in.

  “What a heap of shit.” I laugh to myself as I slide the seat back to accommodate my legs.

  I take my time driving back to Rock City so as not to push Hailey’s car too hard. My head is throbbing, my side hurts too much to sit for very long, and I don’t wanna show up with a black eye and st
itches.

  The only thing I tell my brothers and Hailey, who only calls once a day, is that I am enjoying my road trip.

  When I arrive back home, Hendrix walks out of his garage, wiping his hand on a grease towel. “Get a new car?” He laughs at me.

  “Hailey’s ride. Got rid of the—”

  “What the hell happened to your eye?”

  “Fell down the stairs when I was leaving. Vegas’s final kick to my ass to head me in the right direction.”

  “Is that the story?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “The pretty boy car?”

  “Got rid of it.”

  “Another lost bet?”

  “I didn’t lose shit.” I look at the stairs leading up to the apartment. “She up there?”

  “Nah. She went to work. Sally’s kid has a fever.”

  “The youngest?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Kid’s sick a lot, isn’t she?” Hendrix nods his reply, and I ask, “The little chick?”

  “Upstairs with your sister-in-law.”

  “My sister-in-law, huh? You two on the outs?”

  “Fuck no! Why would you say shit like that?” Hendrix clinches his fists.

  “ ’Cause you said ‘your sister-in-law,’ not ‘my wife’ or ‘Livi’ or—” I shake my head, ’cause the fucker is confusing me.

  “She is your sister-in-law. She’s family, just like that little chick is starting to feel, and just like your ‘friend’ is, too.”

  “Good. They need family.”

  “You have a plan?”

  “A plan?”

  “Don’t play fucking dumb with me, Morrison. You like her enough to bring her here and then go back to Vegas to win her freedom. You sell your place, saying you don’t need anything in it, but you basically ignore her. When she spends the night in your bed, you crash on the couch. Then you take your sweet time coming back here, not saying shit to any of us, having two-minute conversations with her, basically blowing her off. She and Livi are tight as hell, and Livi told me she’s into you, so what the fuck are you doing? The three of us are all in. But you? None of us have a fucking clue what’s going on in your head, then you come back here with some bullshit story about the stairs. You don’t do all that if you aren’t gonna claim her.”