by Voss, Deja
Still, I can tell by her choppy sloppy haircut and the fact that her blonde roots are starting to show in her jet-black hair that this girl is a little more than meets the eye. She’s hiding from something. Or someone. I’ve been there, I’ve spent most of my life running away from who I am. I can pick up on those things.
“I think you’re being paranoid as usual,” Gavin says. “She’s doing a good job. The guys like her. I don’t think she’s stealing from me. She probably just got caught up in some amateur porn thing and wanted to hide out for a while.”
“Yeah, probably,” I shrug. My paranoia has burned me more than once. It’s just another one of those things I have my father to thank for. That man trusted no one, not even his own children. I’m still trying to unfuck myself from his reign over the Misfits, the control he had over my life for so long. I’m still trying to learn how to trust the brotherhood. I guess the best way to start is literally trusting my brother.
I watch as she grabs her tip bucket from behind the bar and walks towards the office, trying not to make it too obvious that I can’t take my eyes off of her.
“Hey, guys!” Denise squeals, wedging herself between Gavin and I. She smells like cheap perfume, and I don’t know who she’s trying to fool with the water balloons she’s got shoved in her bra. We’ve all seen ’em in their natural state. It’s not the size of her chest that makes her so repellent, it’s everything else about her. “I don’t think I like that new bartender, Gavin. She was really rude to me.”
“Is that so?” he asks, playing with his cell phone, not even looking up to acknowledge her.
“I don’t know why you just don’t let me do it. At least I’m friendly with the customers.” She drags her sharp red fingernails through my hair, and it takes everything in me to fight off the urge to deck her. I’d never hit a woman, but I’m not a touchy-feely guy. Especially not by some random ho who’s trying to make a power move. “Everyone down at Patsy’s loves me. I make them lots of money, you know.”
“Then why aren’t you hanging out over there?” Gavin asks.
“Oh come on, guys,” she whines. I know she’s trying to be sexy, but to me, it’s just off-putting. I was raised in the club around girls like her. My mother was a girl like her at one point. She is the epitome of every reason why I will probably end up dying alone. You can’t love girls like that. As much as you can use them, they’ll use you right back.
“If I buy you a beer, will you leave us alone?”
“Jesus, everyone is so rude tonight. You of all people, Goob. It’s not like you’re such a great catch yourself.”
I nod at Olive, catching her attention.
“Whatever Denise wants,” I say, prying her arms off of me as I stand up. “Put it on my tab.”
I have been doing my best to keep my life together since coming back to the club for good, but the reality is, there’s just some aspects of this place that still set me off. The more this girl talks, the more I feel myself going into that dark place where I need to just numb the memories.
It’s easier for me to just quit while I’m ahead, walk away, go back to “recovering addict Hank” mode instead of badass biker. With one foot in the past, one foot in the future, I don’t feel like dealing with the present right now.
“I’m getting out of here, Gav,” I say.
“You alright?”
“Yeah, I’m just not in the mood for all this.”
“Text me when you get home. No detours please?”
He doesn’t want to say out loud what he actually wants to say. That heroin is stacked up at the stash house down the road. I was pleasantly surprised at how easy the deal went down earlier today, how I didn’t even give it a second thought. I know exactly what’s on Gavin’s mind though.
“Don’t worry about that,” I say. “You don’t have to worry about me anymore, brother.”
“I will always worry about you,” he says.
I walk through the bar, saying my goodbyes to the guys. As much as I’ve hurt them in the past, they’ve done their best to welcome me back with open arms. I was a kid back then, though. They’ve welcomed me, they’ve given me a home, they’ve treated me like a brother, and yet I still feel like I’m standing on the outside. I still feel like I have a lot of catching up to do to make things right.
The cold air hits my face, and I zip up my leather jacket. I walk across the parking lot to my bike and notice, out of the corner of my eye, Stacy is leaning up against the side of the building, puffing on a cigarette, staring off into the night.
“Sneaking out?” she asks.
“Yeah, sorry.”
“It’s cool,” she says. “I’m gonna finish this and get out of here, anyway.”
I get on my bike and she smashes out her cigarette into the gravel and comes walking over to me.
“Is that a 2013?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I say, mildly impressed.
“You have good taste. Wouldn’t be my first choice for these bumpy-ass back roads, but they’re beautiful machines.”
“Yeah, I completely agree with you. I just wanted to put some miles on it while the weather is decent.”
“I don’t blame you,” she says, circling my bike, looking it up and down. When she crouches down to check out the rims, her shirt pulls up a little bit and I can’t help but notice the top of the tattoo poking up from under her jeans. I feel like I should recognize it, but before I can get a better look, she’s up on her feet again. “I’m sorry, I’ll let you get going. I need to head out myself.”
“Who are you?”
“Don’t worry about it,” she says, smiling at me through squinted eyes. “I’m just a girl looking for a fresh start. I’m sure you can relate.”
“Sure,” I say. I did it for a few years myself back when I set off to get clean. Unfortunately, I realized that life everywhere was just about the same and that there was nothing out there for me in the world that would make me feel normal. I might as well be back here with my fucked-up family instead of chasing dreams that I don’t even have for myself. “You need a ride?”
“On that thing?” she giggles. “Hell no. Where am I going to sit? On your shoulders? We just met. That’s a lone wolf bike, Goob. It suits you. I can tell.”
She is pretty perceptive. Her motorcycle knowledge is impressive. I don’t know why I’m letting her past bug me so much, or anything about her, for that matter. For all we know, she’s just passing through, using the bar as a way to get some fast cash, and she’ll be gone before we know it. I don’t feel right leaving her alone in the night, though, but before I can insist on her at least letting me walk her home, I look up, and she’s gone.
Like she disappeared into the night or something. If she ran off, I didn’t even hear her footsteps. She’s a weird one, that’s for sure.
A weird one who’s taking up space in my crowded head. I don’t know if it’s because I’m attracted to her or because old habits die hard, but I have this overwhelming urge to figure her out, good or bad.
I start up my bike and creep out of the parking lot slowly, watching for her out of the corner of my eye for a trace of her, this mystery woman, but she’s long gone.
Shake it off, Hank.
The wind chills me to the core as I carefully make my way back up the mountain, trying to shut my brain up and just drive. I have all night to be alone with my racing thoughts. Hell, I have the rest of my life to be alone. The way it was meant to be.
Chapter 5
Stacy:
“What in the hell are you doing?” I hear her familiar voice shout from the window of her Jeep. I was walking back to the motel, just trying to keep my head down, pepper spray clutched tight in my fist. Sure, this was a sleepy quiet town, but you could never be too safe.
“Walking home,” I say. “I’m fine.”
“Get in the damn car, Stacy,” Olive yells, popping the door open. “You have no business wandering around all alone at night like this.”
I cringe. I kno
w these people all think I’m some sort of weirdo, and I have absolutely no right to be too proud to turn down a perfectly safe ride, but for some reason, I don’t want her to see how I’m living. I don’t want her to know where I’m staying.
“I swear, I’m fine, Olive,” I assure her as I climb up into her jeep.
“I thought you had a ride home. I would’ve never let you leave by yourself if I knew you didn’t.”
“You don’t have to be responsible for me. You’ve already done enough,” I say. “Besides, we’re almost there.”
“Where is there?” she asks. “You staying with friends or something?”
I just shrug and stare out the windshield.
“Stacy, I want to help you. Why don’t you understand?”
“I’m sorry,” I say softly. “I guess I’m just used to getting burned. I don’t want to put you out. I’m just trying to figure some shit out, and I need to do it on my own.”
“You’re not putting me out at all. Besides, around here we take care of each other. No questions asked. Now tell me where you’re living.”
“I thought you said no questions asked.”
“That wasn’t a question, Stacy.”
“Up there,” I say, pointing off to the seedy motel on the side of the road.
“The Bellmont? Shit, I’ve spent some time there in a pinch, I mean, you can’t beat their hourly rate,” she laughs. “You can’t live there, though. I can only imagine the things those bedbugs have seen.”
“It’s only temporary.”
She pulls into the parking lot and puts her car in park.
“Thanks for the ride. You really didn’t have to.” I go to jump out, but she hits the power lock on the doors.
“It’s only temporary?” she asks. “If that’s what’s going on here, then I’m going to have to tell Gavin.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Well, if you’re just here for a quick buck and you plan on ghosting us, that’s bullshit. I put my neck out for you. It’s not exactly a pleasure cruise having to train someone, no offense.”
“I mean living here,” I say. I don’t want to ghost them, but I also don’t know what tomorrow will bring. It’s easier for me to tell a white lie than get into the messy details, though. “I didn’t exactly have the cash to put a down payment on an apartment. I don’t have a car, so I have to stay somewhere close-ish to the bar so I can walk to work. Trust me, the bedbugs and I have made our peace for now, but they don’t want me here as much as I don’t want to be here.”
“I’m sorry,” she says. “That was really rude of me. Sometimes I forget where I came from.”
“Well, hopefully someday I can, too.” I unlock the door and swing it open.
“I’m going to call my old landlord tomorrow. I think he’ll be able to work with you.”
“That’s nice, Olive. It really is, but even if I have a place to live, I still gotta eat. I gotta pay the electric bill. Day by day is pretty much the only option I have right now.”
“Trade me shifts on Friday,” she says. “I know you can handle it. It’s going to be rough, but I promise you will have enough for your first month’s rent by the end of the night. I’ll even stay and help you if you want.”
“I don’t want to be your charity case.”
“You’re not. You’re helping me out. We haven’t had another bartender at the Bucktail that I could trust in months. It’ll be nice to have a Friday night off. I just started dating someone and we work opposite schedules. Maybe I’ll be able to get him to come out for a couple drinks.”
“Don’t tell anybody?” I ask. “I mean, about all this. I’m kind of embarrassed.”
“Oh Stacy, if there’s anything we’re good at around here, it’s secrets. Besides, the Bellmont looks like a five-star hotel compared to where half our customers live. Their bedbugs have lice.”
I don’t know what I did to deserve a guardian angel like Olive, but for a minute, I feel like I can let my guard down. I don’t feel so alone in the world. I feel like she gets me. She doesn’t want anything from me, except for me to offer her the same kindness.
“Take this,” she says, tossing me a garbage bag from the backseat. It weighs as much as I do, and for a second, I worry that she’s asking me to dispose of a body or something. “It’s clothes. I know you don’t want to be a charity case, but I’m moving in with my boyfriend and I needed to downsize my closet by like a million percent. If you don’t like it, you can just donate it. Most of it still has tags on it. I kind of have a problem. That’s my little secret.”
“Are you trying to tell me you’re sick of seeing this tank top?” I laugh. I’ve pretty much cycled through every combination of the three outfits I have over the course of the last two weeks. I miss my closet, that’s for sure. Buying new clothes was actually on my agenda as soon as I made some tips. This will definitely save me a step.
“I’m trying to tell you there’s some fake leather leggings in there that’ll probably earn you your rent for the month. Just let the pants do all the hard work while you kick back and collect.”
“You’re the best,” I say. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do for you?”
“Just show up for work on time and tell someone when you need a ride home from now on. For my peace of mind at least?”
“You’re a good person.”
“I hate leaving you here. Are you sure you don’t want to come stay at our house until we get this sorted out?”
“It’s already paid for for the night,” I say. “Thanks for the lift. I’ll see ya tomorrow.”
I see the headlights shining through the window of the room for at least another five minutes. I was flattered that she wanted to make sure I was ok, even though I was a little bit confused. This place really wasn’t that bad. Definitely not as bad as my hitchhiking adventure. At least I could lock the door behind me, and I had my trusty Smith & Wesson within arm’s reach, fully prepared to shoot first and ask questions later.
I wondered what Harold would think about all of this. I wondered if he was watching over me. Probably not. He couldn’t even keep me safe when he was alive, and now that he was dead, I was starting to question a lot of things about our relationship.
I mean, I loved him. At least I thought I did.
I start to unfold the clothes from the bag that Olive gave me and I nearly faint from sticker shock. The girl was right; she does have a problem. If I sold this stuff tomorrow, I could probably afford to fly out to California if I wanted. Sucks that I ditched my credit cards and driver’s license.
That would be a truly shitty thing to do, though. Sure, it’s how I was raised, it’s how I lived most of my adult life, but taking advantage of people who want to help me is definitely something that I’m going to need to learn to get over, especially because I kind of want to stick around for a while.
I try to deny the fact that it’s exactly what Harold did to me: took advantage of my position in the club, took advantage of who I was to get the intel he needed for the FBI. I try to tell myself that he really did love me as much as I love him. That this is exactly what he would want me to be doing right now, laying low, biding my time, trying to figure out how to avenge his death.
I try to talk to him, scream his name, summon him, ask him for some advice, but I can’t even remember what his voice sounds like in my head anymore. It hasn’t even been that long. I feel like a terrible person. I feel like I should be crying more.
Instead, I’m laughing at the pants. The leggings stood out like a sore thumb. I know exactly what she’s talking about now. I’m sure if I put these on you could see my ass from outer space. I guess that’s probably what I need to go for if I’m going to make a full-time go of this thing.
I wonder what Goob would say about these pants. He probably wouldn’t even notice. I don’t think he’d know a woman was hitting on him if she was sitting on his face. Maybe that’s why I can’t get him out of my head. He’s safe. He’ll be a good ally. May
be he can help me figure out what I need to do next.
Maybe he can help me figure out how to bring my old self back to life.
Fifteen Years Ago:
Goob:
Fifteen years ago:
“I don’t want to go with Mom,” I whine as my dad stands in the doorway of my bedroom. His face looks mad, but it always does. I love my dad a lot, but he’s kind of a scary guy. I try to be good all the time, but I feel like I’m always getting in the way.
It’s boring up here on the mountain without any kids my age to play with, but I know my brother is coming home from college soon, and when he does, he will take me with him everywhere he goes. He’ll let me ride on his motorcycle with him and help him do his deals and take me swimming at the rocks. I love my brother so much. I can’t wait to grow up so I can be just like him.
“Oh come on, Goob,” my dad says. “Don’t say that. You need to spend time with your mom, too.”
I don’t know why he’s saying that. Everyone tells me that I shouldn’t talk to strangers, and to me, my mom is a stranger. She left when I was a baby. My dad called her names that my Aunt Trixie said I’m not allowed to repeat until I have a beard. I might only be eight, but I’ve been around long enough to know that I might be getting set up. For what? I don’t know.
“How’s Santa supposed to know where to find me?”
“Son, you really think that’s going to work? You haven’t believed in Santa since you were six.”
“What about Gavin? He’s going to be mad at me.”
“Your brother isn’t coming back, Goob. I don’t know why you keep worrying about him.”
“Oh he is coming back, Dad. He promised.” I knew he was. He had to finish up college so he could come back and be our lawyer. That’s what he told me last time he left. My brother is so smart. “When he comes back you better tell him the truth. You better tell him that I didn’t want to leave and you made me.”