Razor's Edge (Afflictions)

by Racquel Reck

  "Mom, look out!"

  I jerk the wheel to avoid a huge buck. The tires skid on the icy road. Heart in my throat, I grip the wheel. “Hang on, Duders.”

  I try to gain some semblance of control. Ben is screaming in the back. A cloud of white blankets my windshield. Panic and the sheer fear for my son’s life catapult my lungs from my chest.

  Boom!

  Morgan

  The road ahead of me is dark. Snowflakes hit my window so fast the wipers could blow a gasket trying to keep up. Tryst and Wiley talk away as I stare at the winter blanket in front of me. Squinting, I try to make out where the road and snow banks meet. Damn, I can’t see more than five feet in front of me.

  Tryst leans over and turns up the volume on the radio.

  Even though it’s one of my favorite bands my concentration doesn’t need the blare of Slipknot, so I move to turn it down, but pause as the angry screaming cuts off. It’s followed by emergency beeps, then the recording of the emergency broadcaster. "A state of emergency has been issued for the following counties..." I listen to the long list and ours pops up at the end.

  The DJ’s voice cuts back in. "If you’re driving, we advise you to get off the road. It’s really coming down out there, guys. Get to your destinations swiftly, but safely."

  The music cuts back in and I turn down the radio. I need to pay attention to the road.

  "Hey, man." Tryst goes for the volume. "I like Psychosocial."

  "I need to concentrate." My voice is harsher than I intended. Not being able to spark up a blunt is only adding to my frustration. I’m not only worried about my life, but Wiley’s and Tryst’s, too. God, I hate Michigan. It’s January and last week it was fifty out, but tonight we have Mr. Winter breathing icy vengeance.

  Tryst doesn’t say anything, just reclines his seat.

  In the back, Wiley’s drumming his fingers on the window. Fucking drummers. Wiley has an ADHD complex as big as Canada. His tapping is annoying the crap out of me.

  Red taillights flare from the side of the road. I look for a second, but keep my eyes on course. My stomach sinks. That bad feeling I got snowboarding on the mountain is back.

  Tryst turns around, staring back at the car that banked itself on the side of the road.

  Now Wiley’s looking, too. "Aren’t you gonna stop? They might need help."

  "They shoulda driven slower." I know it’s a harsh thing to say, not very “good Samaritan” of me, but why would I stop? It’s been a damn epidemic around here—people pretending to be in trouble. When you pull over to help them, they jack your ass. Yeah, I’m not in the mood for being shot and robbed.

  Wiley shakes his head. "We can’t just leave them. You’re being an asshole."

  Guess I’m an ass then. "Remember I-96 and Gloster? I know you heard about that jacking."

  "Seriously?" Tryst looks back again and so do I. Red taillights are no longer there, eaten up by the distance, dark and falling snow. "It’s really coming down and there’s a State of Emergency on the roads. I highly doubt someone purposely ran into a snow bank in hopes someone worth robbing would stop."

  Tryst’s right. Still, there is this overwhelming sense of dread, and I just want to get to the cabin.

  "Morg, turn around, man." Wiley leans in between the seats. "Tryst is right. They might need our help. You have a fucking Hummer, dude."

  "No." I try to tune him out and concentrate on the road in front of me. The further I get away from the wrecked car, the worse my bad inkling gets. It raises my irritation to new heights. Try to keep it cool, man. Yeah, like telling myself that is going to help. I wish I had my fucking pot.

  "Think about it, man. I didn’t see anyone waving, did you? What if they’re hurt? Do you want a replay of what happened twenty-three years ago? If you had come into that bathroom five minutes before–"

  I slam on the brakes and Wiley jerks forward into the center console. The Hummer fish-tails back and forth a couple of times then skids to a stop. It was an asshole move on my part. I could’ve killed all three of us, but my rage is flaring and I couldn’t care less about my knee-jerk reaction.

  "You have no fucking right to bring that up!" Guilt slams into my psyche. My mind’s going through lost memories of the day I found my Dad. He’d only been dead for five minutes. If Logan and I had come home on time we could have helped him. Wiley knows how much this point in my past trips me out. He’s a dickhead for throwing it in my face. I turn in my seat and glare at him.

  Tryst is white knuckling the oh-shit handles and looking back and forth between me and Wiley. Like he expects us to smash each other’s faces in over the seats.

  Wiley scoots further back into his seat like he expects me to launch myself at him. "Calm down. I didn’t mean–"

  "Yeah, you fucking did." I jab my finger in Wiley’s face. The rage inside me trembles with an urge to hit him. He’s lucky I’m still caged in by my seat belt. "You know just how bad a place I go to when I think about that shit."

  "Sorry, I’m just sayin." Wiley holds up his hands. "What if it was Logan and Dani in that car?"

  "My brother knows how to drive in the snow." Wiley’s right. I have to turn around. Taking a deep breath, I turn back in my seat and put the Hummer in gear. After busting a U-ey, it doesn’t take long for red taillights to come back into view. Slowing the Hummer, I can now see what kind of – "Is that a Probe? I didn’t think they made those cars anymore."

  “Fuck!” Tryst unbuckles his seat belt. "That’s Shay’s car!"

  Every horrible feeling that I’ve had, from the time we left for the cabin until now, flips upside-down. Fear for a woman and little boy I hardly know has my heart in a gymnastics meet. The urge to call her was so strong, and I ignored it. Why don’t I ever listen to what my gut tells me? Adrenaline shoots through me, chasing the worry away, and propels me into action. I back my Hummer up to her car. She’s going to need to be pulled from the snow. But before I stop, Tryst’s flying out the door. I want to be the one rushing to her rescue.

  Throwing it in park, I dart out the door. My ass only gets about two inches of air time and hits the seat again. Fucking seat belt. Shay on the brain and I forget everything else. I fumble with the confines of my shackles and finally get it off. As I’m climbing down, she rounds my bumper.

  My heart jumps in my chest. I sigh. She’s okay.

  Her face glows red with the light from my Hummer’s taillights. Even through the thick flakes swirling around her, I notice there’s no blood and from what I can tell, no visible injuries. My sex angel is safe. A rush of warmth floods my system, leaving my body drunk from the adrenalin high.

  "Are you okay?” I touch the soft skin of her face and check for any visible bruising. There’s none. Thank God. Black and blue is not a color she should ever wear on her face. “Where’s Ben? Was he with you?"

  "I’m fine. He’s okay, too. He’s playing his DS." She walks up to my back passenger side door and opens it. "Wiley, Tryst says you have a satellite phone. Can I use it? Mine has no reception."

  Shouldn’t she be more worried? She was just in a car accident. Maybe she’s in shock, or maybe I’m just over reacting. All she did was hit a snowbank. Why am I feeling like this? I hardly know her. I cringe at my behavior before. What if I’d kept on driving? Left her out here in the middle of butt-fucking-Siberia? Wiley’s right. I’m a complete asshole.

  "Yeah, but come in before all the snow piles on the seat." Wiley makes room, and she climbs right in.

  Wiley has a huge grin on his face, and makes no move to exit my Hummer. I’ve seen that look in his eyes before. He’s shopping for a Monday night special, and Shay’s rare meat—tough, but tender.

  I slam the door, letting off some steam, but not enough to cool my engine. In all fairness, Wiley doesn’t know that I want her, but that doesn’t stop my overwhelming urge to rip his dick off and feed it to him. When did I suddenly become that asshole? The one who wants to fight his best bud over a girl?

  I need a blunt right now
! Stupid fucking bet. Bryan and his luck. I should’ve known better than to play his game. He is a gambling man and has tons of experience.

  Trekking through the snow, I head to the front of Shay’s car. The wind has died down now and the snow is falling slowly.

  The passenger-side door flies open, it comes centimeters from creaming me in the nuts. Ben knocks into my side and I stumble to keep my footing. Looking down, I see his red Lightening McQueen ski-mask.

  "Morgan!" Ben looks up at me, and steps back. "You shoulda seen it! A huge deer ran out in front of Mom’s car and she swerved," he does the hand motions of driving a car, "and…BOOM! It was so much fun." He laughs.

  The kid’s excitement over the accident does nothing to alleviate my nerves. If anything, it cranks them higher. That crash could have taken a deadly turn. If she hit a deer in that tight little car, instead of swerving, the thing would have gone through the windshield and plowed into her and Ben. Definitely toke-a-smoke time.

  "You’re okay, right?" Pulling off his ski-mask, I crouch down and search for bruises.

  "I’m fine. My seat belt saved me."

  Tryst comes around the vehicle. "The front is smashed. I cleared some of the snow away. Looks like she went through the bank and hit the guard rail." He glances back at her Probe then looks back to me. "No use pulling this out. She’s gonna need a body shop."

  A door slams.

  I stand and run a hand through my wind-whipped, spiky hair.

  Shay’s headed our way, clutching her beanie in both hands. Her eyebrows are narrow and there is a glare to her eyes. She’s pissed and shakes her body out as if to rid it of a creepy feeling. I don’t blame her. My nerves are shot. They’re lucky they’re not injured.

  "What did the tow company say?" Tryst asks.

  She bends down, hugs Ben and kisses his head.

  He pushes her away. His cheeks are red as he glances back at me and rolls his eyes. "I’m fine, Mom. Jeez."

  She shakes her head and sighs. "It’s a state of emergency and their hands are tied." She stands up and puts her beanie back on. "There were a ton of accidents tonight, and since I’m fine and my car is off the road, I’m low priority. They can’t have anyone out here until tomorrow afternoon. I gave them my number, and they said they’d call when they were sending someone out."

  "Tomorrow afternoon?" Tryst growls. "How long does it take them to clear the damn roads?"

  "It depends on the number of accidents and how bad they are." I shrug. "I used to work for a towing company when I was a teen. They gave you that time to cover their asses. They’ll probably call you sooner than that."

  "Fabulous!" Shay throws up her hands.

  I smile. Can’t help it. I’m glad they’re okay. “Come on, we’ve got an extra room at the cabin.”

  Eight

  Shay

  Morgan’s leather seats are cozy, erasing the winter chill in my bones and his Hummer has that new-car smell. How does he have the money to afford something like this? This is not how I envisioned spending my night, but sitting next to him almost makes it worth it. Wish I hadn’t wrecked my front end, though.

  Morgan keeps his concentration locked on driving. Gone is the fear I saw in his eyes when he got out of his car. It’s almost like he cared about what could’ve happened to me. We might not know each other well, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen Gary panic in a situation like that. Well… only when it came to me not doing something right. It was always my fault when events turned sour. Morgan’s different. He sneaks a peek at me, a slight smile on his face then turns his attention back to the road.

  Busted. A blast of heat fills my cheeks and I can’t help but smile. He caught me staring at him. Awesome.

  I look out the window. Anything to keep my vision from straying to the man I couldn’t get my mind off of earlier. It’s a lost cause. Knowing that he’s sitting just inches away from me, my eyes travel back to him.

  His strong brows are narrowed and he plays with his lip ring. The dead focus he has on getting us to the cabin safe sends a blast of arousal through me. He’s in protection mode, playing hero and protector to our situation. Need to look at something else.

  The snow whirls and dances in the headlights. The wind howls a warning of how deadly it is. It’s so strong it makes the Hummer swerve a little. Morgan’s a great driver and does an excellent job of keeping it on the road. Even given what happened before, I’m not afraid of crashing in this beast.

  "And she swerved." Ben makes a brake screeching sound as he retells our adventure for the fifth time.

  Wiley groans.

  I turn to look at him. "Ben, honey. I know you’re excited, but can we talk about something else?"

  Morgan clicks on his blinker and makes a slow right onto the long road that will take us to the highway. "Hey, Ben you wanna watch a movie?"

  "Yeah!"

  Morgan smiles. "Despicable Me, okay?"

  What is a guy like Morgan doing with a kid’s movie? He didn’t strike me as a guy who had a kid. Does he? Does he have a wife? I look at his hand. No ring or tan line. Girlfriend?

  "I love Despicable Me." Ben’s bouncing between Wiley and Tryst.

  Wiley sighs, long and full of frustration, and his drumming on the window is getting louder.

  What the hell is his problem? Like a kid about to watch a movie is a big inconvenience to him. I don’t say anything, though. I don’t want to start shit.

  “Shay, the DVD is in the center console, can you grab it?" Morgan asks.

  I do as he says and pop the DVD in. The movie starts. Everyone’s quiet. Fifteen minutes go by and my eyes get heavy.

  “We’re here,” Morgan says and I snap awake.

  We’re going down a long driveway and the storm has died down some.

  Wiley groans from the back. “’Bout fucking time.”

  “Hey.” I turn around in my seat to glare at him. “Watch your mouth in front of my son.”

  “Kid’s asleep.”

  “You want me to put you to sleep?” Morgan glances back at him in the rearview. “Show her some respect, man. She’s had a hard night.”

  “We all have.”

  “Boo-hoo.” Tryst’s gravelly voice comes from next to Ben.

  This whole time I completely forgot Tryst was in the car. I hate when he does that crap. Makes you forget he’s there because he goes all stone quiet on you.

  “Whatever.” Wiley looks out the window.

  Some men can’t take being turned down. This guy is a mega jerk, making a pass at me when I’m down on my luck. Maybe going into the story about Gary was the wrong thing to do. Damn my mouth for not wanting to shut up. I should have kept it to “I’m not looking to have fun right now,” but that would have been a lie.

  “Ignore Wiley.” Morgan pulls up to a huge two-story cabin. "He acts like a little bit–" he glances at Ben in the rearview, "baby when things don’t go his way."

  Wiley gets out of the Hummer and slams the door. An Arctic blast fills the interior with his fuck you.

  Ben’s snore cuts out but quickly dips back in. He can fall asleep during anything and stay that way. Gary’s to thank for that one, blasting his heavy metal in our loft when Ben was just a baby. Guess he grew a tolerance for loud noises.

  "What’s up with your friend?" Tryst opens the door and begins to unbuckle Ben. "He’s the one who wanted you to turn around."

  Turn around?

  Morgan takes the keys out and opens the door. "He gets testy when he’s tired."

  “No, it’s clear. Wiley doesn’t want me here.” I’m stuck. We’re out in the boonies and I have no way to get home until morning. A night in a cabin with Wiley? I’m not scared of him with Tryst and Morgan here. But what happens when they conk out? Wiley’s a stranger and he kind of reminds me of another Gary. I didn’t like the way he was staring at me while I made my phone call and his attitude toward me since hasn’t convinced me that he doesn’t have it out for me.

  Morgan gets out of the car, but leans ba
ck in. "What’re you going to do, Shay? Sleep in the Hummer?"

  He reaches behind his seat and grabs the backpack I brought along. There’s a tightness to his face. Wiley really pissed him off. I don’t want to be the bitch between them.

  "If it will make Wiley feel better, then...” That’s the perfect solution. Wiley doesn’t have it out for my son and Ben deserves a warm bed. Tryst will watch him if I ask. "Yeah."

  Morgan hands Tryst the backpack. "Take Ben into the cabin and put him in the room we’re not using. I have to talk to Shay."

  Tryst glances back and forth between us, like he doesn’t know what to do.

  I lean over the seat and look my cousin in the eye, hoping he’ll see my desperation. “Can you watch him tonight, Tryst? I really don’t want to sleep in that place with Wiley.”

  He nods, then carries a sleeping Ben toward the cabin.

  Morgan and I watch until he’s inside, then Morgan gets back into the Hummer and slams his door. He curses under his breath, takes off his beanie, and chucks it into the back seat.

  I can’t tell if he’s mad at me, Wiley, or the situation in general. He’d have the right to be angry with me. I’m the one who ruined their fun. "It’s not like I planned on being the bitch here. I’m just staying out of Wiley’s way."

  "Shit, Shay, that’s not why I’m mad." He leans back and stares at the ceiling. "I’m pissed off at Wiley. I’m pissed off at myself. And I’m pissed off at the situation. What the hell were you doing on that road, anyway?"

  "Ben and I were on our way home from sledding." The one time I decide to cut loose. Scratch that. The second time I decide to cut loose I end up crashing into a guy-only trip. The first time I let some fun in my life, post Gary, I beat the snot out of a blonde tart. Maybe I should just stick to what I know: making sure all my responsibilities are covered.

  Dammit. "I thought it’d be fun to take Ben to a sled hill I used to go to as a kid. It’s not my fault a deer jumped into the road. And I didn’t make you turn around to get us."