The Way Home (Lights of Peril)

by Unknown

  “Shut up. Seven months, you asshole… before last night, I hadn’t been fucked in seven months.”

  Mood shift? Umm, yeah. Forgot he isn’t used to my out-of-character foul mouth that I developed while he was dead and buried. I really never used to be so direct and forceful, not until my life shattered. The threat of him had no longer lurked, but now it’s back.

  “Sadey, I don’t fuck you. Don’t use those words to me, with me, or about me when I’m about to have you. I don’t like them.”

  Immediately I soften. “I’m sorry. I just…” before I finish my thought he walks me to the bed as I continue to hold him around the neck, and this time, I go in and kiss him hard, as form of apology.

  With my skirt around my waist, he gives me a toss and I find myself flat on the bed. He’s lifting my shirt and then taking off my bra, dismissing them to the ground. He goes for my breast and sucks it roughly, forcing the gasp; an admission not of pain, but of pleasure. He feels familiar and I feel protected ... safe.

  “Pierce this again for me?”

  I nod in response to his question. I miss my piercings for so many reasons.

  “Soon, Sadey.” He flicks my nipple with his tongue, then pulls it slightly in his teeth.

  “It’s not your decision, Hem. Now can you please shut up and fuck me? Or do I need to do it myself?” I cannot stop expelling word-vomit. Shit.

  “You want me or you just want fucked? Anyone could do that. I don’t need to be here to watch. That’s your second warning, if you’re pushing for an ass-beat, baby, you’re close.”

  “I want you. I want you to fuck me. There’s a difference. Just cut the chit-chat and fuck me. Seven months, Hem. One doesn’t just stop wanting sex. Give a woman a drop of water after seven months and then watch her want to drink the entire fountain.”

  “My girl. God, I want to see you make bad decisions only with me when you’re drunk. Do you understand that?”

  “Fuck you, Hem.”

  “That’s the third and last time, baby. Hold on.”

  With that he enters me and doesn’t stop until he takes me to a climax of oblivion, then becomes rigid in me, reaching his own. When I told myself I wanted him to take his time with me right now, I meant that. I’m mentally cursing all this makeup, perfume, short skirt, low shirt, and high heels, which I’m still wearing.

  “I love you, baby. Tell me you love me.” Because he says this so quietly, I nearly miss it. He’s afraid of rejection. This means a lot to him and he’s putting himself out there.

  “It’s no secret I love you, dumbass. You don’t have to say it to me as if you’re nothing more than a tiny church mouse.”

  “Fuckin’ women. You ain’t happy if we show our feelings. You ain’t happy if we don’t… a church mouse, Christ.” I’m smiling into his chest as he’s on top of me, kissing my temple through my hair. “You mine, babe? I prefer you would just agree so I can breathe easy. Right now, I’m not breathin’. Just waiting for you to decide if we live happily-ever-after or you send this mouse packin’ to find a hole to die in, alone.”

  This has the potential to become a sharp buzzkill, quickly. I need to lighten the mood, but I’m not funny like Mace, or vulgar like Shame. I already know I’m definitely not the poet at heart like Hem. All I have to offer is my childhood experiences, which are all things a childhood should have been.

  “We can talk about later, ‘Timmy Q’.”

  He stops kissing at my neck and chest and looks down at me, waiting for an explanation. I forgot that maybe Hem isn’t exactly informed on the history of Dumbo and the little mouse that befriended him during a hard time in his little elephant life, so I laugh to myself because I have the upper hand in this minute and I never have the upper hand when our clothes are off. I’m usually too transfixed by him.

  “Oh God, this is going to take a few minutes to explain, I see. ‘Timothy Q.’ is a fictional mouse from a book and movie, ‘Dumbo.’ You’ve never heard of that, have you?”

  He is serious in thought as he searches for the answers he thinks I can send him with my Jedi mind, then, from out of nowhere, he surprises the hell out of me and it is hilarious.

  “Sadey, everyone who ever went to school until the third grade had to read the damn book and watch that sappy-ass movie. I know who ‘Timothy Q’” is, but when you’re referring to me you gotta give me a shot to be important. If you have to refer to me as a fuckin’ mouse, gimme Mighty Mouse, ‘cause any other mouse is a fuckin’ pussy and everyone knows it.”

  I’m trying too hard to be serious, but I can’t. He got me, I really didn’t think he would have any idea. His childhood wasn’t filled with cartoon movies and bowls of popcorn for the family to share. Hem is not a funny man, either, but that was an impressive delivery.

  “I don’t know what to do with that, honey.”

  “You ain’t gotta do nothing with it, woman. Get up and get dressed and dance with your man. This time keep yourself in my arms. Don’t walk away like that again… tired of chasing you, woman. I’m always chasing you.”

  With that, I get up and get dressed and we head back to the party.

  After coming back downstairs to a party that is still in full swing, Hem has asked me to stay near him. He’s nervous about the reactions of the guests and Shame has warned him he’s going to be making a toast to him regarding his return. When Hem asked me to stay near him, I should have known that he meant that not just emotionally, but physically. No sooner did my feet hit the common area floor was I off of them and in his arms, cradled like a child.

  I’m sitting in Hem’s lap at a table in the middle of the room. Gunner, Honor, and even Ace, are standing around as if nothing has changed and Hem never left. Shame releases Mace out of his hold around her waist and sits her down by Hem and I. Then we watch him head towards the bar. Here comes to the toast.

  He rings that obnoxious bar bell, gathering everyone’s attention, requesting their silence. “Need your focus for a few minutes, boys.”

  Shame holds in pause, waiting for everyone to finish their conversations and quiet down.

  “The last time I addressed you it was because an angel that walked among us had found her way back home, to heaven. It feels so long ago that we stood here and celebrated that great lady. Ironically tonight, we are here to celebrate a brother coming home.”

  Everyone holds up their glasses and drinks to Hem. Hem is sitting under me. He’s not moving at all because he’s absorbed in the club, and he truly missed being here.

  “When I saw Hem standing in Ace’s kitchen, miles from here, I thought I’d died and he was greeting me at the pearly gate… fucker didn’t even offer me a beer. Hem explained to me, as well to many of you, what had happened that night when he surrendered himself to Warren. He left to save us, the club, our women, and our families. Warren Cash was a sick man and his fury knew no bounds, including death. The fight isn’t over fellas, but there is no other person I would trust to take care of what needs to be taken care of.”

  Hem jerks under me and I feel the chair move. I turn around, putting my hands to his face to calm him. “Let him finish. Don’t take this from him, honey. He needs to talk this out.”

  Mace is at us as well. “Brother, I agree. Give him his time on the floor, then you can say something if you want. Either way, you’re not leaving, so sit down.”

  Shame is still quiet as he looks to the three of us sitting around the table. He’s looking at Hem and waiting for a response, but after our tag-team effort, Hem doesn’t have one. He’s confused and wondering what angle Shame is working. Shame is the President of this Club and no one has voiced a question about what happens to the position now that Hem is back.

  When Shame accepted the position, it was under the pretense of sadness and duress. He doesn’t like the position, doesn’t want it, and if I know Shame, and I think I do, he’s greedy to get rid of it and go back to being Hem’s right hand.

  Shame continues hesitantly since the room has gone quiet and Hem ha
sn’t moved. This time, when he starts speaking, he’s looking and talking directly to Hem. He is talking loud enough for every person here to hear.

  “I never set out to be President of this Club, Hem. I knew there was never anyone more loyal and dedicated to making this run as it should… how Doc wanted it… then you… Hem, brother, I’m fuckin’ overpowered by your sister and nephew already. I have put in an order for two additional sons and my focus in life has changed because of my family. You are able to run this unit in your sleep. It’s time you take it back. Please, brother. Take it back.”

  In unison the crowd again raises their glasses and laughs. Hem moves me to stand and hugs me in a tight embrace before going up to relieve Shame. They give a good man hug and no one says anything in wait for Hem’s response to Shames changing of the guard… It doesn’t take long and Hem is addressing this room full of family. His voice is much more quiet and broken in comparison to Shame’s, so eager and enthusiastic.

  “Thank you for the welcome back. I wasn’t sure how it was going to play out. Shame is right. Not about me running Peril, but about the danger that it’s not over. Warren Cash fuckin’ hated me. I got his hatred only because of the blood that ran through my veins. I’m a second-generation clubber, and to me, there is no other life. Thank you for taking care of things while I was away. No spoken words could express to each of you how thankful I am to be with my family again.”

  Hem is getting choked up, so he hands the drink in his hand off to Gunner who stands proudly at his side, as always. Gunner puts the drink down, and without any forewarning to Hem, Gunner grabs him as he tries to walk away, and hands Hem a cut. It’s new. Everyone thought Hem had been buried in it. No one knows he burned it while in California. Ace told Gunner this, so Gunner took it upon himself to have another made and this one is kick-ass.

  Hem reluctantly slides it on. Everything is still barely sinking in for him… he still has a lot to process. The room is growing louder as the party starts again. I can hear Hem talking out loud to Gunner, Honor, and now, Shame. He’s thanking them from the bottom of his heart for doing everything they have done, thus far, for his girls.

  After thinking more on the topic of the cut and how we had assumed it was buried, I pull Hem to me and ask a crazy question. One that as a woman, we need an answer to.

  “Honey, if you weren’t in your grave, who the fuck was I talking to all that time?” I’m using words he doesn’t like for me to use, but I need him to get that I am in need of an answer. I deserve one, being that I was the saddened widow discussing my life with….

  “Gerald… grey haired fella at the post office… you remember?” He says this like he’s saying we’re expecting rain on Tuesday.

  “Oh my God, Hem. Are you kidding me right now?”

  “Babe, I’m not. He passed about the same time I supposedly did and his neighbors didn’t even notice he was gone ‘til they smelled him. So, Hood handled the arrangements. He wasn’t there long, honey…moved within a week… just had to give enough time for story to play out to the hire, that my funeral was over, so he believed I was gone. No big deal.”

  “No big deal? No, no big deal to you. You weren’t there listening to my bat-shit crazy thoughts. Hem, when I think of a good plot of revenge for this, you’re going to be first in line for payback.”

  “Sadey, you have no evil within your hold. I’m not worried.”

  Right. Asshole.

  Hell hath no fury…

  Hem is heading his way into the whiskey now. He hasn’t moved from his leather chair in roughly two hours, which means he hasn’t done anything, but catch up with the buddies and celebrate with shots.

  “Sade, we need to make a liquor run. Shame says we’re low and the boys are drinking like fish. It’s still early so we were elected to go.” Mace isn’t pissed about having to be someone’s drink-bitch, so something has to be going on, but I’m going to play along to find out.

  “Sure, let me grab my purse and we can go. Just you and I?” I’m gathering more data from my secretive little friend here. She just can’t see it.

  “Nope, Cherry and April want to go, as well… think they need the break.”

  On the way to the liquor store I feel eyes on me, as if everyone is in on yet another storyline, and I’m clueless, but the evening has been good and the weather is perfect, so I’m just enjoying the breeze while we are out of the smoke filled club. Cherry hasn’t said a single word to contribute to the conversation and she hasn’t looked at me either.

  “So, spill the dirt, Sadey. What’s up with you and Hem now that he’s back?” April, always blunt and ever-to-the-point.

  “We don’t know. We aren’t defining it right now. One day at a time. We have a responsibility to our son to do this right…make the right decision for all of us.”

  There, that was diplomatic.

  “I see. I guess then that includes screwin’ each other’s brain out in Crickets room?”

  Thanks, April. Shit. That was most definitely not diplomatic. Damn, that was Crickets room?

  “Don’t need a lecture, April. I have missed him. There’s no secret in that, so if you’re going to try to give me some sermon, don’t bother. If I’m screwing someone’s brains out, it rightfully should be Hem’s.”

  Cherry finally speaks and she’s definitely sending me a passive message all wrapped in an untidy bow of rudeness.

  “Yeah, I guess I would agree. Now if you could just stop emotionally screwing Ace’s heart to smithereens, maybe he could sail off to the sunset with someone who cares about him rather than sit here and watch you and Hem live out your happily-ever-after.”

  No one says another word as we continue our way to the liquor store.

  Once there, we all pile out and it isn’t until I hear a screech from Cherry that all of us come out of our daze. She’s standing near the front door of “Shadow’s Wine and Beer. She’s dropped her purse and she’s shaking, staring out into the dark parking lot.

  Mace happens to make it to her first, wobbling as she goes. “What is it? What’s the matter, honey?”

  Cherry is still staring. Mace has grabbed her arms and, at the touch, Cherry comes out of her trance.

  “Nothing, I just thought I saw someone that I recognized. I didn’t. I still get spooked every so often. I’m fine. Let’s go so we can get back Peril, please.”

  She’s been through so much in her young life. Seeing her like this, even with her blatant dislike for me at the present time, makes me really sad for her.

  “Alright, let’s make this fast…boys are going to be anxious for our arrival back, anyway, and poor Honor and Raider back there are wanting to be back with the celebration.” Mace smiles. She knows we are being trailed.

  I look back to her car and she’s right. There sits Honor and Raider, both looking at us like we are as boring to them as watching paint dry rather than seriously standing at guard.

  Why couldn’t they just make the run for us?

  This furthers my concern that something else is brewing for me back at the club.

  Awesome.

  We’ve made it back; safe, sound, and tailed. The moment I hit the door I’m met with Ace. He looks concerned and upset. I’ve not really talked to him much the last two days, but I know with everything going on around us he has reason to look concerned in regards to my reaction to him. Ass.

  “Heya, Bug.”

  “Ace.” I don’t know how to address him. Calling him by another name such as ‘adulterer’ or ‘liar’ … or maybe ‘traitor,’ seems a little callous and in the wake of Hem’s arrival, I would just appreciate if he and I could agree to disagree on his state of marriage bound with his attempt at making me the other woman.

  “So, I wanted to talk to you. You’re mad and I get that. I know you didn’t want to see me again. I don’t blame you. I just didn’t want to leave until I knew you were alright, after Hem coming back.”

  “Ace, you helped him stay away from me. I don’t know how I feel about that.
One minute I’m so thankful you hid him and the other I want to cut your eyes out. Either way, you are here and you finally get that you and I can’t… I mean we won’t ever…”

  “Jesus, Sade, I get it. Enough already. You’re Hem’s. I don’t need that shit in sky writing.”

  I feel bad. I don’t mean to make him feel worse than he does. “I’m sorry. I just… I don’t know… it’s all still so confusing, ya know?”

  “Shouldn’t be anything to be confused about. I mean, this is what you’ve wanted. You wanted your man back. Well, there he is.” He points to the chair behind him, in which Hem still currently resides. With Ace’s big ole body standing in front of me, I can’t see all of him… just the head of another person talking to him.

  “I know… I just don’t know… I’m not making sense, sorry.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m leaving this party. Too much celebrating for me. Glad you’re okay. If you need anything you just need to call me, alright?”

  “I will.”

  Moving Ace to the side, as much as my small frame can move his large one, I don’t appreciate the picture I’m seeing. Shit.

  My look alike, nemesis, tormentor, whatever you want to call her, is sitting on the armrest of Hem’s chair and she’s running her hands through his hair with one hand and holding his chin to her with the other. He pushes her hand away roughly and turns his head in the other direction to avoid looking at her. He’s pissed, but says nothing to get her to move. Moments pass and her eyes catch mine as she smiles at me and mimics blowing me a kiss.

  I’m stunned and haven’t moved an inch. Ace registers what is happening and looks at me with concern, as if I’m going to go crazy and do something stupid. The suck of it is that Hem isn’t exactly mine anymore. Of course he still loves me, and we are together, but if I walk over there and claim him, it would only be to remove her, not keep him. I don’t have to worry about what to do for long. Mace has beaten me to the punch, literally.