Ironside

by Alexis Abbott

  I open my eyes and smile at the soft morning light filtering in through the gauzy motel curtains, casting swaying shadows across the bed. I’m tangled up in the sheets next to Ironside, just drinking up the coziness of the moment. It feels oddly domestic, like we’ve got a routine together even though we’re on the road traveling and nothing is really routine. Maybe there isn’t a kitchen, and maybe we’re not putting down roots, but somehow it’s like every place I go to with him feels like home. I have a feeling he’s taking in a little more luxury and comfort than he would normally choose for himself while traveling-- he’s definitely the kind of rugged guy who could sleep rough under the stars and think nothing of it. But having me along for the ride changes things. We stay in motels. We sleep in beds. And every night, I fall asleep under the watchful gaze of my hero. He keeps watch and makes sure nothing and nobody can harm me while I’m vulnerable. And then in the morning, I wake up to find myself curled up in his arms. There is no safer place for me in the world than wherever he happens to be. That much I know for certain. No one can protect me like he can.

  I stretch out a little, yawning, and I feel Ironside wake up. He presses a soft kiss against the back of my head, nosing into my hair. It’s a lovely, ticklish feeling that makes me tingle from my head down to my toes. I tilt my head back to peer up at him adoringly and he kisses my forehead, too, making me giggle.

  “Good morning, sweetheart,” he murmurs gruffly against my hair.

  “Morning,” I reply, my heart exploding with affection for him.

  I wriggle back against him, reveling in the wall of hard muscle behind me. No matter how many times I see him naked or touch his glorious body, it never ceases to amaze me. I can’t believe he’s real. And I definitely can’t believe he considers me good enough to be his girl. Because, I realize now, that is what this is turning into. Maybe at first I was simply his charge, his unexpected responsibility. And sure, that is still partly true. He looks after me like a guardian, protects me like a bodyguard-- but he fucks me like a lover. Like we are simply man and woman, free of the clutter of our circumstances. It was an accident that we fell in together, but I am eternally grateful that my rocky road led me to such a beautiful place in the world. All the suffering, all the fear and self-loathing I have endured for so many years, it’s all worth the struggle whenever I look at Ironside. Whenever he touches me, it’s like he erases the pain underneath my skin. His attention and his protection are bringing me out of my shell into the light, and god, does it feel so damn good.

  His arms fall around me possessively and he pulls me in tight to his chest, gently rutting against me so that I can feel that he’s already partially stiff. That gives me the same little thrill I get every time. It stuns me to think that my body in proximity to his is enough to turn him on, but I’m learning with awe that he seems perpetually ready to go. He is just as aroused by my presence as I am intoxicated by his. How lucky. How fortunate that we fit together this way.

  “How did you sleep, my angel?” he asks. His warm breath washes over my ear and neck, giving me goosebumps. I’m so in tune with every little move he makes.

  “Good,” I answer. “I had a really nice dream.”

  “Oh, really? What did you dream about?” he asks idly.

  “Oh, it was lovely, Ironside. You and me, lounging around in this pool by the beach. I can still smell the sunscreen and the chlorine. We were close enough to hear the crash of waves on the shore. It was incredible. Do places like that really exist?” I wonder aloud.

  Ironside chuckles and squeezes me tight. “Yes, my love. Those places do exist. And if we’re lucky, maybe one day we can make that dream of yours come true. I for one would love to see this body in a bikini. I bet you’d melt the pavement. Hotter than the sun,” he whispers.

  I blush and giggle, trying to squirm away from him.

  “Oh, stop. You’re making me blush,” I laugh.

  “Good!” he growls.

  He pulls me back and kisses me on the lips before letting me roll out of bed. I stand up and stretch, loving the sensation of the morning sun beaming warmly on my body through the curtains. Ironside props himself up on one elbow for a moment, just watching me.

  “God, you’re gorgeous,” he murmurs, shaking his head.

  Suddenly self-conscious, I grab a sheet from the bed and wrap it around my naked body, which makes him laugh softly.

  “Maybe one of these days you’re going to realize how beautiful you are,” he remarks. “Until then, I’ll just have to keep reminding you.”

  “You’re too sweet to me,” I reply, beaming.

  “I’m exactly as sweet as you deserve,” he replies as he slides out of bed. “Come on, darlin’. We need to get back on the road. Let’s get cleaned up and roll out.”

  I dutifully head into the bathroom with him, where we take a shower together and towel-dry off, then get dressed. We pack up and check out of the motel, stepping out into the bright sunshine. Even though I know I should be a little wary every time we’re out on the road-- there’s no telling what kind of trouble we might run into-- I just feel so exhilarated. Riding on the back of his motorcycle is the closest to a thrill ride I have ever felt. I slink my arms around his waist and let the wind whip through my hair, drying it gradually as we roll along the highway.

  We’re headed eastward, which I glean from the various road signs we pass. At first, this doesn’t really bother me. I trust Ironside to know where he’s going and how to protect us both while on the road. But as we start nearing the Utah border, that little forgotten pit in my stomach starts to grow and become more obvious. Fear builds up higher and higher inside of me and I find myself watching the signs pass by with a sense of intense dread. I’m diving right back into the belly of the beast, or so it feels to me. I know I should just trust Ironside, as he’s never steered me wrong in the past. But I can’t help but react with fear to the idea of being back on my old home turf. There are lots of dark memories here that I have worked very hard to run away from and forget about. Lots of old demons just hanging around the dusty, mountainous state, waiting for me to return. I can feel fear sinking its poisonous claws into me as we ride along, and before long I can’t hold back anymore.

  “Where are we going? This isn’t the way we came,” I lean forward and ask, my lips mere millimeters away from the shell of his ear.

  He gives my hands a reassuring squeeze and turns his head slightly so I can hear him when he responds. “I know. We’re taking the scenic route. I want to show you as much of the world as I can while I’ve got you, little girl. You stick with me, you will see a lot more. There’s so much you haven’t seen yet,” he says.

  It’s a fair answer. He’s right. I’ve been so sheltered all my life that I haven’t done a lot of exploring, not even in my home state. But I can’t fully relax and enjoy the excursion, not with the dread of being in enemy territory still hanging heavily over my head. Still, I do my best to outrun the alarm bells ringing in my head, and I force myself to think of more lovely possibilities. For example, the potential of traveling the world with Ironside. The thought of waking up in a new place every morning, spending our days on the road and our evenings in bed together-- well, I have to admit that it sounds like my idea of heaven. I could spend all my time with this amazing, awe-inspiring man who smells of leather and fuel and adventure. I could gaze into those dark, contemplative eyes every night as I fall asleep. I could learn more about him, teach myself how to better serve and support him as he serves and supports me. We are growing closer and closer together, and I am oddly reminded of a tree that used to grow in my backyard at home. It was an apple tree, but whoever lived on the property before my family must have been a little experimental with the garden, since there was an orange branch grafted onto the apple tree. Miraculously, in a feat I still don’t fully comprehend, that tree kept growing. It produces apples and oranges now, which I didn’t even know was possible. But it reminds me so much of what I have with Ironside. We are two totally differe
nt people. We could hardly have dreamt up such wildly contrasting backgrounds. On paper, we have little in common. But what we do share is an intimate connection unlike any other. We may be different, but together we are stronger. We grow together despite our differences, just like those apples and oranges. We share everything. We support one another back and forth endlessly in a totally symbiotic relationship. Sometimes it feels like I don’t have much to offer him, especially compared to the protection and security he provides for me. But I support him in other ways. I give him affection. I do as I’m told. And at night, I give him a warm, loving body to sleep next to. Maybe it’s not much, but it’s what I have to offer, and to his credit, he seems perfectly happy to accept that.

  As we ride along, I try to think of happier things to keep my mind off of my worries. I close my eyes and rest my cheek against Ironside’s muscular shoulder, taking comfort in how strong and powerful he is, how safe I am in his possession. I start to furnish a fantasy world with a life we could one day have together, if all the dark things that pull at us from every direction could just lie still for once. There are so many anchors weighing us down, but if we could just free ourselves from those burdens, we could build such a lovely life together. I even smile to myself thinking about what our potential children might look like. Is that silly? Maybe. But it makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside, so it must be worth it in that regard, at least. I wonder if our children would have his dark eyes or my light eyes. Would they be courageous and fearless like their father or quiet and timid like me? Would they have a powerful love of travel and being on the road like we do? I have to imagine they would, growing up with the kind of life we two could create.

  I’m so wrapped up in my lush fantasy world of the future that it takes me a little while to realize where we’re heading. But finally I open my eyes and start reading the signs we pass by, and when my brain clocks those grim words, my heart nearly drops down into my belly. We pass by a sign for the Sunny Hilltop Preparatory for Girls and I feel my blood run cold.

  It’s a place I rarely revisit in my mind. In fact, my years spent at an all-girls boarding school are some of the fuzziest and most suppressed of all. Terrible things happened there. Nothing overly traumatic, but just awful enough to have forced my brain to put up a soft block against it. The memories are there, but they are blanketed with a thick layer of denial and out-of-sight-ness that help me get through the days since then. It’s strange to think about who I was back then. How did I cope with the harsh rule of puritanical teachers, hellbent on policing every little thing I said or did at all times? We were treated like zoo animals there, or like showroom pets. We were paraded around like prized poodles, all of us forced to make ourselves soft and pliant and beautiful. Perfect future brides for uptight men who hate women. Some of my classmates ran away from the place, preferring the unpredictability of life on the streets than the clanging, painful routines of the boarding school. I still feel oddly guilty and disappointed in myself for not being one of those runaways. I was always too afraid, too well-behaved. But while I didn’t physically run away, I can’t pretend like I haven’t spent years trying to evade Sunny Hilltop in my memories. In fact, the remembrance of those days upsets me so much that I feel tears burning in my eyes. I start to sob uncontrollably, the tears streaming down my cheeks while my body trembles. It doesn’t take very long at all for Ironside to notice that I’m panicking. He pulls the motorcycle over on the side of the road and turns around to hug me.

  “I know. It’s hard,” he murmurs. “But you’re okay. I got you.”

  “It’s just that… ugh, so many bad memories. I didn’t know it would still hurt so badly,” I confess to him tearfully.

  “Sweetheart, you are so strong,” he assures me. “But if we need to, we can drive back the opposite way. I am not going to push you through trauma you don’t need.”

  I sniffle and wipe at my eyes. “No. I need to do this. I need to face up to it.”

  “I’ve suffered, too, and I know how difficult it is to face your demons. One word, little girl, and I will turn this bike around,” Ironside reminds me.

  I manage to give him a smile, even through my tears. “I’m ready. I have you. I can do this. We should at least drive past the place,” I mumble.

  “Whatever you say, Justine,” he says, kissing me softly.

  We pull back onto the road and keep going in the direction of the school, my heart beating like crazy. But when we pull up to the place, I am stunned to find that it’s all closed down and boarded up. In fact, it looks like it’s been that way for a long time. The buildings that once held so much power and fear in me look abandoned, dilapidated. The fences sag. The walls are crumbling. The landscaping, once kept pristine by a combination of groundskeepers and student labor, has become totally overgrown. It’s all wild and unruly, a total turnaround from the hallowed halls of rules and regulations it used to be.

  “It’s dead,” I murmur in awe. “It’s really dead.”

  “How are you feeling about it?” he asks helpfully.

  I give him a confident smile. “Amazing,” I answer.

  “Good. Let’s explore,” he says, giving me a wink.

  We park the bike and set out on a little exploration of the old school grounds. Everything is so eerie and quiet. Not even the birds or insects are chirping here. It’s all death, all silence. I’m so relieved. It’s cathartic getting to walk around the place without the fear of some professor or administrator appearing from the shadows to punish me for some perceived slight or lapse in courtesy. As we look around, I point out various places that used to positively vibrate with dark memories for me. A table in the cafeteria where a mean older girl flipped my lunch tray, sending my food flying messily across the linoleum floor. A corner of the auditorium where a teacher once whacked my knuckles with a ruler for forgetting to put my name on my math homework. And finally, the dorm room where I used to cry myself to sleep in bed.

  I look around the deserted room, amazed to find how different it feels now. And as I’m watching the room, Ironside is watching me.

  “How do you feel?” he asks again, always attentive to my needs.

  “It’s weird,” I admit. “This place used to scare me so much. It was torture for me.”

  “Well, you have nothing to fear now,” Ironside says. “You’re safe. Those days are over.”

  He saunters over and puts his arms around me, kissing me. When he breaks away, there is a mischievous glint in his eyes. I look at him dubiously.

  “What? What is it?” I ask.

  He smiles. “We’re going to make some much better memories here.”

  “How so?” I question, tilting my head to one side.

  “Which one of these was your bed?” he asks.

  I point to it, wrinkling my nose. “That one.”

  He promptly scoops me up and carries me over to the bed.

  “Good. Because I’m going to fuck you in it,” he growls.

  Ironside

  “I don’t like the sound of it already,” I growl as we stride through the bar downstairs toward the meeting room, Justine following close beside me while Breaker walks on the other.

  “Just because it involves Justine, you assume it’s a bad thing,” Breaker says with a chuckle. “Well, I think that’s up for her to decide.”

  Before I can open my mouth and protest with a glance at Justine, Breaker pushes the door open and leads us inside. Justine tugs at my hand and stops me at the door, giving me an uncertain look and glancing in at the meeting.

  “You’re more than welcome at this meeting,” I say with a firm nod at her. “At my side. If anyone’s got a problem with that, they can take it up with me.”

  I don’t bother glancing around menacingly at the room after that statement. I know nobody here would object. If they would, then they wouldn’t be my closest comrades. Tank didn’t count, but if he let out so much as a wrong breath her way, I’d drag him behind my bike next time we ride.

  Bones, Big Daddy,
and Tank are all already in the room, with Tank standing at the end of the table with his hands folded in front of him. He gives us the slightest hair of a nod as we enter, and Breaker takes a seat by Tank while I sit with Justine at the far end.

  “I hear you two had a little field trip,” Tank says with a coy grin.

  “Fuck off,” I grunt.

  “Must’ve been a nice ride,” Tank murmurs to Breaker, who furrows his brow at him.

  “Don’t push it, or I’ll trade seats with him,” Breaker warns, and Tank holds up a hand and chuckles.

  “Colorado or Utah?” he asks me. “Damn, the ride down to Grand Junction must be pretty this time of year. You know, if you ever do head that way, you two should check out-”

  “Tank,” Breaker interrupts.

  “Alright, preacher,” he says, waving him off. “No jokes in church, I hear ya.”

  “Cut to the chase, I hear you’ve got news,” I say, leaning forward with a stony frown as Justine subtly scoots her chair closer to mine.

  “Wait, I kind of want to hear what he was going to say,” she whispers to me, and I roll my eyes.

  “We can talk to him later,” I assure her, a little curious myself, even though I’d never let it show.

  “So, here’s the deal,” Tank says as Big Daddy takes a long drink of coffee. “Diesel wants you, little lady,” he says with a nod to Justine, “real bad.” Looking around at the group, he goes on, “Diesel ain’t all that happy about that little stunt Ironside pulled at his club. It’s an embarrassment. He wants to cover his ass, meaning his reputation.”