by Harlow Brown
Of course, I knew all that already but it still fucking hurt to hear, to accept.
“Sorry you had to see that, Briar.”
“It's okay. You’re entitled to a certain amount of grieving, you know. But—” He grabbed my shoulders and made me look at him. “—not much more. He doesn't deserve the tears coming from these pretty eyes, and he damn sure doesn’t deserve the energy it takes to cry them.”
“What would I do without you and Jazz?”
“You’ll never have to find out, love. We’ll always be here.”
With that, I reached up and kissed his cheek, then left him in my living room. I went through my bedroom to the bathroom where I saw a picture of us when we were happy, strategically placed beside my deodorant and toothpaste, where he knew I would see it. A plain piece of paper under the picture simply stated ‘YOU BELONG TO ME FOREVER.'
I screamed and ran frantically out of my bathroom to my bed.
Briar blazed a trail through the door and found me shaking and crying again.
“Charlie girl, what happened?” he said as he tried to figure out what was going on. As I couldn't speak, I pointed to the bathroom. When he saw the picture, he started cursing loudly. “Motherfucker will pay for this.”
That was followed immediately by the sound of crashing glass, Briar having thrown the picture of us and shattering it into tiny shards on the floor. Once he’d composed himself, he came out of my bathroom and said as calmly as he could, which wasn't calm at all, “Charlie, we are getting all of your clothes today. And I suggest you get anything else you might need because you damn sure ain't coming back here… ever.”
I started to argue, but he cut me off. “I will handle moving your things, but you aren't to set foot here again. It isn't safe. So please get your clothes and whatever else you can't live without, give me your key, and say good-bye to the cesspool of memories you have here. That fucker obviously still has a key, so I'll be changing the locks soon. We’ll be getting you moved out of here and into Acres before Jazz or me. Did you give him a key to the estate too?”
“No. There’s an electric gate that’s passcode and fingerprint operated, so I’ll be safe there. Oh yeah, and the entire ten-acre estate has a rock wall surrounding it, with barbed wire and electric fencing run through it.”
“You’ll still need someone with you. Charlie, this guy has a fucking screw loose, and I don't trust him.” He sighed. “We’ll figure all that out later, but for now, get your clothes and let's get you back to Jazz’s house. I’ll call her and tell her what happened and that I’m staying there until she gets home."
So, with a defeated heart and bruised spirit, I did just that. I went to my room and stared at the pictures on the wall, knowing he had put them there because I sure as hell didn't. I’d had my Atlanta Braves stuff on the wall; I have no earthly idea how I managed not to see that the first time I came through here.
I went through the closet and grabbed all my jeans and most of my tee shirts, my shorts, three pairs of tennis shoes, and a sweatshirt. I also gathered a week's worth of sleepwear and underwear and my uniforms from my dresser, which sat just outside the closet.
As I was closing a drawer, I spotted a particular picture on the wall. I grabbed it and sat on the bed. As I looked at us so happy, so in love, my heart broke a little more. I loved and hated him all at the same time. Silently, memories of us ran down my face as I stared at what we used to be. I would never let myself go back. Mentally, I knew I was done.
I decided that if seeing pictures of us together brought tears, memories, and overall inner turmoil, then they had to go. I went around the room violently ripping pictures off the wall and smashing them to the floor. Glass was shattering, frames were banging, and screams and cries of anguish and rage flowed out of me uncontrollably. I hardly realized what I was doing; truthfully, I didn't remember bits and pieces of it. I was flinging pictures and then was in Briar's arms as he comforted me. Everything else in between was forgotten.
“Charlie, you're bleeding.”
“How long did you watch me?” I said as I avoided the subject at hand.
“Long enough to know that we need to get you out of here. Where are the bandages?”
“I’ll be okay. It's just a little cut. My stuff is on the bed. Let’s go. I'm fucking done here. I'll pay someone to move my stuff.”
“Horseshit. I’ll do it,” he barked, almost as if I’d offended him.
“I’m sorry. I just know you’re busy moving your stuff, plus Jazz’s.”
“You’re as much mine as she is, only I don't sleep with you.”
I giggled through the sniffles and tears, and man alive, did it feel nice
“Ew, gross! That’s just wrong to say those words together in the same sentence.” Laughter overtook me. I laughed a soul-cleansing, mood-altering, snorting belly laugh. God knew what he was doing when he brought Briar into my life.
“Come on, Charlie. Let's get your stuff to the truck. I'll get the clothes on hangers first. You box up your shoes and clothes from your dresser, and I'll be back in a second.”
I did as he asked, making sure I got clothes in first because I needed them. But I had an overwhelming urge to get all my pictures as well. I thought it was odd, but Daddy told me never to question my instincts. “Trust your gut, pumpkin. All it needs is food to work right. Your heart is stupid. It eats all the bullshit your head feeds it,” he’d told me. And I’d be damned if it didn’t make perfect sense to me right then. So I put my picture albums of Momma, Daddy, and me with my things to be moved. I also grabbed the family portrait off the wall, the last picture we had together. I wouldn’t take the chance of Hensley messing it up because he was pissed and decided to tear my shit up. He could destroy this house, but hell would freeze over before he took my photos of Mom and Dad.
Briar came back in for another armload of my things, and I went around the room gathering all my pictures. I wasn’t sure how I would cope if that prick sabotaged all my fondest memories of my parents. As I stood there scanning the room for keepsakes that I cherished, sadness gripped my heart. Momma and Daddy bought me this house not long before they were taken from me. It was a graduation present. As extreme as it may be, Dad wanted me set up, to not have to worry about anything. He said he didn't want me with any debt after college. “Go big or go home,” he said. He'd roll over in his grave if he knew that I never finished after the accident.
There’s no telling how long Briar stood watching me take in all my memories.
As I turned to get my things, he asked, “Charlie girl, are you okay?”
“I'm as okay as I can be. My dad bought this house for me, and now I have to leave it because of a bad decision I made.”
“Stop it, Charlie. This is on him, not you.”
“No, I let it happen instead of growing a backbone and calling the son of a bitch out. I let him take it away from me. Maybe I didn't directly do it, but all of this is at least partly my fault. If I had done something sooner, it might not have come to this. But it’s fine. I've accepted it.”
He scowled. "You may see it that way, but I assure you that Jazz and I don't. And I bet you anything your dad is talking with God right now just trying to come up with a good demise for the sorry bastard.”
“That’s just wrong. You know that, don't you?” I chuckled only because I felt the same way. I knew Mom was praying for him and Dad was trying to conspire with God to end him.
“Let's get you all loaded up and back to Jazz’s. You can shower there and change. I’ll arrange some help from the club to help me move your stuff into Acres.”
I agreed as I slowly turned to take in my home for the last time, giving him a flat grin and slight nod. A war of right and wrong took place in my head, but ultimately I knew it was the right thing to do. I couldn't stay there even if I wanted to. I wasn't safe there anymore.
Once in the truck, I blurted out of the blue, "Should I sell it or rent it out?”
“Do you want the headache of re
nters?” Briar went with the flow.
“No, but I'm sure not ready to sell it either.”
“Charlie, answer this. Can you look at this house and never be reminded of Hensley? Can you come here to collect rent and not relive any of the tortuous things he did to you here? Is it worth it?”
“No,” I whispered as a tear escaped my eye, "Do you know a realtor?”
“Charlie, we can deal with this later. It doesn't have to be done right now. Let's focus on getting all of us into Acres and get your World Series out of the way before we worry about that. While you’re gone, I’ll have some of the boys watch it. Care if they stay over?”
“If you trust them, I trust them. You know that. And you’re right. I'm just ready to have all this behind me. I'm ready to start living again without him or a horrible memory at every turn.”
He patted my knee, and then we drove back to Jazz’s house. He was a huge help in every aspect of my life and was going to make her a wonderful husband.
As he finished bringing in my things, he said to me, “Why don't you take a shower? Jazz will be back soon. In the meantime, I’ll fix us all some dinner.”
“She's lucky to have you. You are so good to her, and me. I appreciate it more than you know. Please know that. I love you for it too. My heart’s happy knowing she’ll never have to see firsthand what I’ve had to live with. That peace is so precious to me.”
Without giving him a chance to respond, I quickly made my way to the shower.
I UNDRESSED AND let the water run over me, rinsing away the remnants of the last two days’ worth of filth and grime. It occurred to me that this might be the single best shower in the history of showers. Some of the tension in my muscles and bad memories of the last couple hours washed away. It was hot and felt so good that I was reluctant to get out. Alas, I did and got dressed. When I made it to the bedroom, I unpacked my clothes in the room we slept in the previous night, which took practically no time as I didn’t have a ton of things with me.
Finished, I was planning on helping Briar with dinner but was stopped in my tracks upon entering the kitchen.
“You don't mind? You have to bring your truck, Whiskey. This isn't something that can be done with a bike. No, she won't mind. Yes, she’s the cute little blonde. You met her once or twice, but you were drunk and it was before you left for Texas. Yes, that’s her. Dude, shut the fuck up. She’s like my sister! She’s been through hell, and you aren't going there with her, feel it?”
Intrigued, I turned the corner and said, “Need some help?”
“Oh hey, Charlie,” he said as he held the mouthpiece of the phone. “Hang on a sec, yeah?” He uncovered the mouthpiece and continued his conversation with Whiskey. "I'm sure she doesn’t mind, and she’ll be all right with it. When are you coming? Okay then, I'll see you soon.” He hung up the phone and turned to me.
“That was Whiskey, my brother, who left and went to Texas. He’s in town and said he would help get us all moved into Acres. That's cool with you, yeah?”
“Of course. I know he’s a brother, and he’ll be fine. It's having a bunch of big dudes around that unnerves me.”
“Charlie girl, you should know he's a little rough around the edges.”
“How so?”
“He patched in with a different charter. He’s thinking of maybe patching in here with the Rudy chapter . They don't do things exactly like we do here, but he’s one of the best dudes I know. I've missed that fucker since he’s been gone. He’s been put through the ringer with his ex recently, so he’s a little jaded, that's all. And he takes zero shit from anyone. He is a total badass. Usually very polite and stuff like that, but just hope he doesn't get pissed off. “
"No judging from me. Obviously, looks can be deceiving. Hensley was the epitome of the hot, clean-cut, all-American man. Look how that turned out,” I said with a chuckle.
“Charlie, I wish I had known. I would’ve stopped it.”
“No, sir. Stop that shit right now. This is on Hensley and me,” I said with some misconceived authority. “Let's cook.”
“Yes, ma’am. There’s some spunk. I miss having it around to irritate me. Pork chops, baked potatoes, and green beans okay with you?”
“You do know the way to my heart, don't you?” I joked.
“It's Jazz's favorite too.”
“Briar?"
“Yes, Charlie.”
“You are going to stay here with us, right?”
“Hell yes, I am. I'm not trusting that the stupid fucker won't come here. I'm not chancing it with my girls. You both mean the world to me, and I'm here until further notice. Whiskey and I will move your things into Acres so you don’t have to."
“Thank you. You’re the best,” I said with a weak smile, and a huge breath escaped my lungs.
“So, do you remember Whiskey?”
“I attended way more than one of your crazy-ass biker parties, so forgive me for saying you’ll have to describe him.”
“Tall, probably six-four, cut like a motherfucker. The dude works out religiously. Big arms, long black hair, usually pulled back into a ponytail.”
“Yeah, not ringing a bell. I’ll just have to see him, I guess. So is he moving here? You said he went to Texas.”
“Yeah, he’s coming back here. Some shit went down in Texas with his ex, so he’s coming home to start over. And in theory, he can patch in with our charter of the club. “
“You said he's a good guy, right? Would he want to rent my house?”
“I'll ask him when he gets here. Are you sure about this? You don't even remember him.”
“If you would let him live with you or in your house, I trust that you would feel okay with me renting to him. I trust your judgment. And it so happens that I know a biker who would kick his ass for me.”
“He is good, just rougher than you are. He’s a biker, not a clean-cut pussy.”
“Yeah I had that coming, huh? He can have it for four hundred a month, utilities in his name, and he pays them all. No deposit or any of that bullshit.”
“That’s cheap, Charlie. Are you sure?”
“I don't want to make a living on rent. He's going to need to get on his feet, and all I want is enough for insurance and repairs. Daddy set me up, remember? I don't need the income, so this can be my good deed. I'm helping out a stranger.”
“Charlie girl, you are the fucking bomb, you know that? I'll ask him.”
“Briar, are you hitting on my best friend?” Jazz asked as she snaked her arms around his waist and stole a kiss.
“No, ma’am. Why would I do that when I have everything I ever wanted right here with her arms around me? How was work?"
“Okay, you two need some privacy. I'll get a couple beers and my smokes and head to the porch swing. I'm going to chill out there.”
That I did. I made it outside to the swing, lit a cigarette, and popped a top on my beer, making quick work of them both. In the distance, I could hear the traffic of the dirt road, kids with four-wheelers and dirt bikes. I also thought I heard the rumble of Flowmasters. I knew that sound because I had them on my Mustang. With no thought, I opened another beer and was lost somewhere in deep concentration. Only God knew what I was thinking. At some point I must have unconsciously opened a third beer, the tensions and woes of the day slowly easing away with every drink.
That was until I heard, "Rough day, sexy?”
I had apparently been so wrapped up in my own head that I didn't realize the Flowmasters I’d heard had pulled up in the yard.
“I don't know you, so don't call me sexy. And to say the very fucking least, yes, I have had a bad day. Who the hell are you?”
“You always so pleasant, darlin’?”
“Look, asshat, you’re pressing your luck. Who are you and what do you want?” I lit another smoke and took a drink of my beer before standing to give him the what for and get off my porch. I looked at his feet and followed the lines of his body slowly up to his torso.
“Eyes up here,
sexy.”
“You call me that again and I’ll bring you to your knees. That's all the fucking warning you get,” I said as I blew out smoke.
“I’m Whiskey. Is Briar around?”
“Yeah, hang on. I'll get him.” Well, shit the bed, I didn't expect Whiskey to be so damn good-looking. He had to be six-foot-four, broad shoulders, cut biceps, and through his shirt, I could see his torso was chiseled to perfection. He had bumps in all the right places. Thick, black, shiny locks of hair hung past his shoulders. He had long dark eyelashes that curled up and eyes the color of Jack Daniels Honey bourbon; amber-colored eyes that put a person in a trance and held them there. Hands down, they were the prettiest eyes I had ever seen. His lashes were enough to make any woman jealous, and they made the color of his eyes pop. Sexy, fine, hot, unforgettable—I couldn't come up with a word to describe him. He was simply the sexiest thing I had ever seen.
“Briar, Whiskey’s on the porch. “
“What?”
“Some big hot dude is on the porch, and he says he’s Whiskey.”
“Tell him I’ll be right out, please.”
“Sure will.” I grabbed another beer from the fridge and headed back to the porch.
“I bet you will,” Jazz said under her breath, thinking I didn’t hear her. I didn't say anything, only grinned and flipped her the bird as I walked away.
“He’s finishing dinner. He’ll be out shortly,” I told Sir Hotness.
“Thanks.”
“So you’re the lucky bastard who got roped into moving my stuff, huh?” The beer was making me braver than I had been in a while. I missed myself. Strangely enough, I was welcoming myself back with open arms… and beer.
“Well, I guess that’s one way of looking at it.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it. You don't know me, yet you offered to help move me since I can't.” The somber mood was creeping back.
“Why can't you come with us, if you don't mind me asking?”
“I do mind. I don't know you and am not about to spill my guts to you. Besides, it doesn't matter. He isn't worth bringing up.” I turned my bottle up and didn't stop until it was empty.
