by Voss, Deja
“Hello?” I shout out, picking up my pistol and holding it out in front of my chest, my heart beating faster. I can’t see much beyond my porch, just shadows in the night.
“Esther,” his voice booms through the night. “Relax, it’s me.”
“What the hell are you doing here, Brooks?” I ask, my lip quivering. I’m never mad to see this man. Time has only been good to him, his body strong and solid, his squared jawline barely concealed by his big blond beard. He’s rugged. He’s rough around all the right edges. He’s a mountain god and everyone knows it, including him. But to me, he’ll always just be Brooks. My friend. The guy I grew up with. I’m still allowed to think he’s hot, though.
I keep my pistol trained on him for added dramatics. He smiles as he steps up on my porch, hands in the air.
“Do you even remember how to shoot that fucking thing?” he laughs, creeping closer and closer to me until my gun is pressed firmly into his hard, tight, abs.
“I dunno,” I smile, looking up at him. He has to tower over me by at least a foot. “I already cleaned up one mess on my porch tonight, though, and I’m not in the mood to do it again.” I lower my pistol. “What are you doing here anyway?”
“I got your mail today while I was downtown,” he says, fishing a couple of envelopes out of the pocket of his cut. “Gavin and I are going out in the woods for a couple days to work on the stills, so I wanted to make sure you got it before I left.”
I leaf through the mail. Credit card offers and something about renewing the warranty on my car, which in fact doesn’t exist. I try to stifle a laugh. Surely this can’t be important enough for a personal visit. “Thanks,” I say. “Where’s your bike dude?”
“Left it at the garage since we’re going out of town. We’re taking the truck.”
Everything about his story adds up, and yet it’s way too simple. He has his own garage at his house. I doubt he’d honestly go out of his way like this to have an excuse to stop by my place. He’s always been a straight shooter. It’s kind of perplexing.
“Are you coming inside for a drink?” I ask him. I don’t know why. I know it’s a horrible idea, especially because of what I’m wearing underneath this robe. Still, I enjoy his company. Something about being near him takes me back to a simpler time in my life, even though every time he leaves, everything feels that much more complicated.
“You sure?” he asks. “It looks like you’re getting ready for bed.” I hold the front door open and he follows behind me, taking off his shoes in the foyer. He’s so polite for a big burly guy. Always has been. His dad raised him as right as he could up here on this mountain until the day he passed.
“I’m gonna go put some clothes on,” I tell him. “Help yourself to whatever.”
“You don’t have to,” he says, and I feel like I’m hearing things, making things up in my mind. Like it’s some sort of invitation. “It’s your house. You don’t have to change just because I’m here taking up your space.”
Never mind. Just the ever polite Brooks as usual. He takes up space wherever he goes with his size, stature, and charisma alone, but he never uses it to make people feel uncomfortable. Yet, somehow, I’m incredibly uncomfortable right now knowing that I’m standing here in sexy lingerie while he scans my fridge. Hell, I could probably throw this robe on the floor right now and he wouldn’t notice.
Because we’re friends.
Because maybe even my memories of what we had were just fabrications of my teenage mind. Because when I came back from my backwards ass boot camp, everything was different, and he was gone.
Chapter 4
Brooks:
What the fuck am I doing here?
I could’ve easily just run off before she got outside. I have a footpath beaten down between the woods that connects our houses that I know like the back of my hand, even in the pitch darkness of the night. It’s like I almost wanted her to catch me. It’s almost like I wanted her to know I was here.
Almost.
Not enough to tell her how much I want her. Not enough to risk our friendship, our club, and everything I know about our life together up until this point. I’ve been fighting to keep my dick under control, praying she wouldn’t notice the rock-hard monster trying to blow a hole through my zipper, thanks to that pretty purple teddy of hers. Knowing that fluffy pink bathrobe was the only thing between me and her smooth freckled skin made concealing my weapon damn near impossible.
And now here I am, rifling through her fridge, trying to play it cool as usual. I’m stealing glances as her as she walks down the hallway, imagining the curve of her ass in that purple lingerie. God, if I could just get her alone, anywhere but here. If only we were two different people in a totally different world. There wouldn’t be a day that would go by that I wouldn’t fuck her until she couldn’t walk, give her everything that she deserves, and definitely get her out of this shitty falling apart trailer that makes no sense to me, considering the amount of work she does for the club.
“You find anything interesting in there? The hard stuff is in the freezer,” she says, sneaking back into the kitchen in a green tank top and a pair of plaid shorts. I swear she does this shit to me on purpose. Not just the fact that she obviously isn’t wearing a bra, but she knows how much I love green. Always have.
I’m losing my mind. I have to be imagining things.
“What are you drinking, doll?” I ask her.
“Anything,” she says. “You know I’m not picky.”
I pull out two cans of beer and hand her one. She cracks open the top and starts chugging. It’s Mountain Misfit life at its finest. None of us ever gets what we want, so we just get drunk instead. We don’t get what we want, but we get what we deserve. Hangovers and heartaches.
“So you and Gavin are going out and getting the stills ready tomorrow?” she asks, sitting up on the countertop, dangling her long legs off the edge, her toenails perfectly manicured, and somehow making me want her even more watching the way she circles her toes in the air.
“Yeah. You wanna come?”
“You know I’d love to,” she says sadly. “It’s been way too long since I’ve been camping with you guys. I gotta work, though.”
I don’t ever like to pry, mostly because hearing about her ‘work’ kills me a little bit inside. It makes me rage. It makes me so angry that her brothers and her father let her do this; hell, they encourage her to do this. It makes me pissed that I never stepped up and did the right thing.
“Brooks,” she says, snapping me out of my head and back to her kitchen. “What’s wrong?”
“You got Red and Tank just in case?” Our enforcers. If Gavin and I can’t be around to protect her, I need to make sure someone else is.
“I’m working at the bar, Brooks. Business as usual.” Her voice is dripping with condescension. I know this is a hot button issue. I know this is the fastest way to start a fight, and usually I avoid that at all costs with her. She’s rolling her eyes so hard at me, I think they’re going to break loose and pop out of her skull.
“When are you going to quit?” I ask her.
“I don’t know,” she says, hopping down from the counter. She opens up the freezer and pulls out a jar of moonshine. The way she has to stand on her tiptoes to grab it makes the back of her shorts tug up just enough to show me damn near everything she has. I should look away, but it’s like I’m transfixed or something. “When do bartenders usually retire? Thirty-eight? Thirty-nine?”
“You know what I mean,” I say. “When are you going to quit doing this other shit?”
She stands in front of me, brushing her hand down my face, her touch almost motherly, consoling.
“You guys put your life at risk all the time to protect this club. You would do anything to defend the patch, the way of life we live. I’ll quit when the job is done. I’ll quit when I know you guys are safe. As long as you are waging wars, I need to do whatever I need to do to be the one that makes peace.”
She offers
me a drag from the jar, but I don’t want it. Right now I don’t want anything but the ability to tell her that I’m going to do whatever I can to save her from us. From the club. The look on her face is like someone slapped her, like she’s holding back tears, like she’s feeling actual pain.
I hug her tight to my body, not knowing what to say, because Lord knows I have no idea what else to do. I just have this overwhelming urge to be as close to her as possible. She looks up at me with a suddenly serene smile on her face.
“You know I don’t blame you. I don’t blame any of you.”
I want to tell her I love her. That I’ll do whatever it takes to take care of her, even if it means turning my back on the club. I know she doesn’t blame us, and that’s what makes it even sadder. We let her down. I let her down. She hangs there in my arms for a minute. Her hair smells like citrus and spices; the closest way I can describe that smell is home. It’s always been home.
“Well, enough of this,” she finally laughs, in that sweet, husky voice of hers. “Did you hear what happened while you and Gavin were out?”
“I can only imagine.”
“Apparently Aunt Trixie has a new man. He’s a plumber,” she says dramatically. ‘Aunt’ Trixie has been hanging around the club since we were just babies. Her mother dumped her here and ran off with one of our rival gangs. Built like a linebacker, I know she could kick my ass if she so chose, but Trixie was the one who took care of me when my dad died. She’s the sweetest lady I know, but only if you’re on her good side. She can see right through everyone’s bullshit and she doesn’t sugar coat anything.
“I’m happy to hear that. The old gal probably needs her pipes cleaned, if you know what I’m saying.”
I love the way Esther laughs, the way she throws her head back, all carefree. She’s always been like that. She gets my humor.
“Well listen to this,” she says. “Heat is NOT happy. He went full peacock when the guy showed up at the bar. Squawking and pecking and puffing his chest out. I’m surprised he didn’t piss on the floor. I’m not surprised he pulled his gun though.”
Another prime example of an old lonely misfit. Heat’s a good guy, but he just can’t seem to settle down, even at the ripe age of sixty-ish. He’s our club chaplain, always full of sage wisdom, but not good at practicing what he preaches.
“Old plumber took off running like a bat out of hell. Trixie beat the shit out of Heat. Then they went in the liquor cabinet. It was quite the night,” she giggles.
“It’s about damn time. Those two have been eye fucking each other for at least thirty years.” About half the time Esther and I have been doing whatever dumb dance this is that we do. Our relationship will never come to that point though. She’ll meet a guy willing to take her away from this life, and I’ll always have my motorcycle and my patch.
“What time you guys leaving tomorrow?” she asks.
“Early,” I say. I could stand here in her dingy little kitchen with the 1970s wallpaper and peeling linoleum floor until the sun comes up, but I’m sure I’ll probably regret it in the morning. Plus I’m sure she wants to get back to doing whatever it is she was doing, and I’m sure I’ll be tossing and turning all night thinking about whatever it is she was doing.
“Well, you better get going, then. Thank you for bringing my mail over, Brooks. You really didn’t have to.”
“I know,” I say, “but I don’t care. I like hanging out with you.”
She walks me to the foyer and I slide on my boots. She pulls me in for a hug, kissing me on the cheek just like she always does. It might be a casual thing for her, but for me, it just adds fuel to my fire. Every time she touches me.
“Be careful out there,” she says. “I know how clingy Gavin gets when he’s sleeping.”
“Trust me, woman, I have my own tent. I’ve learned the hard way how much fun it is to wake up underneath his hairy sweaty ass.”
“Bye, Brooks,” she says with a smile. “I’ll see you when you get home?”
“Yeah, sure. Maybe we can see what we can do about getting you some blinds for your bedroom window when I get back.” Holy fuck, if I could ram my foot in my mouth right now.
“What?” she asks, perplexed, cocking her head.
This woman makes me say stupid things. I have no response. I stare at her like a deer in headlights, trying to figure out a way to skirt my stupidity.
“Well, what if Mr. Gingerbread is prancing around on your bed and a bear sees him and thinks he’s a snack.” Dumbass. Is that even something that could happen?
“I never thought of that,” she says, her eyes still wide. “I just like to watch the deer in my yard when I wake up in the morning.”
“Maybe those deer in your yard like watching you while you’re sleeping.” I shrug. Now I just sound like a fucking creep. I walk off into the night, getting out of my own way before my mouth gets me in any more trouble.
Chapter 5
Esther
Weird.
He’s acting really weird.
This whole night was weird.
He might be rough around the edges, he might say some really crude shit that always makes me laugh, but he never says anything he doesn’t mean.
If he was really coming from the clubhouse, really coming down that main road, he’d have no idea what kind of blinds I do or don’t have in my bedroom window.
Maybe he noticed some other time, in passing.
Sure. That’s what I’m going to keep telling myself at least. Because the other thing, the other option, the thought that maybe he has seen more than he’s letting on, I don’t know how I feel about that. I wonder why he didn’t say anything? How he could just stand in my kitchen like everything is business as usual? He probably just didn’t want to embarrass me.
He was probably just being a good friend.
Still, I feel kind of humiliated. I know he’s well aware of what I do. I know he doesn’t like it. He makes that clear every opportunity that he gets. But if he knew about my other extracurricular activities, well, he’d probably think I was a freak. Even more than he already does.
“It was probably just the beer talking, huh, Mr. Gingerbread?” I ask my old tabby cat who’s circling my legs, rubbing himself up against me with overaggressive purrs. “You don’t have to worry about those bears getting you.”
I scoop him up in my arms and head back into my bedroom. I’m definitely not in the mood to get back into my chat. Even being around Brooks kind of takes the edge off of my urges while simultaneously driving me insane. I can still smell him, that manly mixture of pine and leather that is forever burned into my nose. I can still feel his warm embrace. I snuggle underneath my comforter, and let my mind wander back to a time where things were simpler. Back to a time before I found out my ultimate destiny, and being in love with him made me feel good.
“Aunt Mary, school is supposed to start in two weeks. I need to get ready. When am I going home?”
I’ve spent the whole summer cooped up in her farmhouse with nobody to talk to except for her gang of cats. She doesn’t get cell phone service where she lives and she’s really anal about long-distance phone calls. The last time I talked to Gavin was about a month ago, and he didn’t really have much to say, almost like he was avoiding me. The only person who seems to care about keeping in touch with me is my little brother, Goob. He mails me drawings every week scrawled in crayon, I LOVE YOU E, written all over. Like they’re a get well card or something. Like I’m sick and dying.
The only thing I’m dying from is boredom. Aunt Mary is so hard of hearing, even trying to talk to her makes my throat hurt from having to yell and repeat myself over and over again. She’s not interested, anyway. She’s too wrapped up in her soap operas in the afternoon, bingo in the evening, and being in bed by 7 p.m.
As a teenage girl, this FUCKING SUCKS.
“You’re not going to school this year, Esther. You know that.”
Now I worry that she’s getting senile, too. Nobody ever tol
d me I wasn’t going back to school. I don’t have a lot going for me, but I like being in high school. I like making good grades. I have no idea what I want to do when I graduate, but I definitely want to graduate.
“I wanna call my dad,” I whine. “This is bullshit.”
“You’re gonna see your dad soon. Now can you run down to the gas station and grab me a pack of smokes? I’m not proper.” She’s got her white hair in rollers and she’s wearing a big velour robe. It’s ninety degrees outside. She’s nuts.
“I’m not eighteen yet, Auntie. They’ll probably card me.”
“You sure about that?” she asks, a thin smile across her face.
Holy crap. It’s August 12th. The days bleed into each other so much here, I’ve lost track. It’s my birthday. I don’t know if I should be happy or sad. I’m happy that I’m finally an adult, but I’m sad that nobody seems to notice or care, not even me.
“You go down and get those cigs for me. I have a surprise for you when you get back, ok? You think I would forget my only niece’s eighteenth birthday?”
I kiss her on the cheek. I know that no matter how boring she is, I really am the only woman left in the family that she has. Maybe I should be more thankful for the time we’ve got to spend together this summer. She hands me a wad of cash and I pull out my driver’s license from my purse. I’m an adult now. I could run away and nobody could stop me.
It really doesn’t count as running away if the only place you want to go is back home, though. Back to my true home. Up on the mountain.
Chapter 6
I wake up to the sun shining through my window, warming me as I blink open my eyes and kick off my comforter. I turn my head and look out into the yard, checking for the mother and fawn who have been visiting me every day this summer. I love watching them come and eat the apples off the ground that have fallen from my tree. They know I’m watching them as they stand there with their ears perked up, staring right at me as they chew away, and I feel like we have a secret understanding going or something. They know they’re safe here by my little trailer in the woods where nobody can ever find me unless they’re looking for me.