Running On Empty_Crows MC

by Cassandra Bloom

  “T-BUILT SENDS HIS CONDOLENCES, PRESLEY!”

  Condolences?

  I looked up, saw the old stereo lying at an awkward angle against the far wall; all dinged up and busted to shit. In my pain or rage, I realized, I’d thrown (her) it across the room. It was good and truly dead now; good and truly gone.

  “Then we’ll see ‘bout getting’ ya a new one; a better one!”

  Didn’t I deserve another chance?

  Fuck.

  Did I?

  I growled, clenching my head between fisted hands. I more felt her than saw her—couldn’t see much through the gray haze my vision was taking—and I forced my vision to clear, looking up and seeing Anne in front of me.

  Usually she reserved her visits for when I was riding, but, then again, I usually wasn’t dating, either. She was here now, though.

  Or, rather, the part of my brain that kept bringing her back—kept putting her ahead of me and just out of reach—was putting her here now.

  I reached out, begging, pleading; urging her to give me a sign—asking her to tell me it was okay.

  If I could only get her to tell me that I was allowed this second chance.

  But she was so far away—too far away—and my hand, far as it might reach, would never get to her. I’d never get an answer. Not from her.

  I watched in horror as the image faded, disappearing into that oblivion where she waited between visits.

  “Fuck…”

  I closed my eyes, squeezed them shut until they hurt, and tried to fight the wave of tears that threatened to spill. I didn’t want to cry right now. I didn’t want to have all these negative emotions right before meeting with Mia.

  Mia…

  Just thinking her name and…

  I opened my eyes. No. I’d planned out too much for this date to give up now; dedicated so much to this evening all so I could impress her. Hell, I’d even impressed myself with all the effort I was putting into this.

  You won’t even be able to make it out the door, some inner part of me taunted me.

  “Shut up,” I growled aloud. I found it worked best to silence the worst parts of yourself when you acknowledged them with a real voice.

  True as this was, it occurred to me that I was yelling at myself. I nearly laughed at that and realized that was better than bursting into tears. I let myself chuckle, and I knew if anyone saw me they’d be able to see just how crazy I felt. I had been able to hold it back so long, but with her I hadn’t felt like I had to—not because I could let the crazy out, but because there was no crazy to let out. It was like just being with her flipped the switch and made it all go away.

  It just seemed so right…

  Until, of course, it went wrong. Maybe I’d swing back, have myself a moment of crazy, and Mia would get an eyeful of just how broken I really was.

  Running on empty…

  “Then fill the damn tank,” I told myself. “She’s waiting for you, Jason, and you’re not gonna puss out on her; you’re gonna be strong, fight through this, and that’s that!”

  And, just like that, I shocked myself into some semblance of sanity. I hadn’t realized I could feel this serious about someone I had just met. I ran my hand through my hair (again) and leaned back, staring at the dead (wife) stereo, all smashed and gone against the wall, reminiscing about the times we’d had together.

  “You can get a new stereo,” I told myself. “Doesn’t mean you didn’t love the old one.”

  I closed my eyes, working to calm myself down and prepare for the date. Stealing another glance at my watch, I saw that I had apparently sat wallowing in my own despair for nearly ten minutes. I cringed at that realization, wondering how many other times I’d wasted huge blocks of time like this in one of my psychotic, self-pitying episodes. Well not this time!

  Snatching up my jacket, I started across the room and knelt over the dead (wife) stereo. “Alright, hun, wish me luck,” I whispered.

  Turning away, I tried to fight through all the nerves telling me this was a bad idea. The truth, I realized, was that I needed this. I needed to see if there was any chance of hope for me. And if there was, I’d most certainly know it by the end of tonight. I smirked, considering the prior night’s events and how everything had started at the Carrion Crew’s fundraiser. The realization that a nearly suicidal revenge mission might have somehow turned out to be the thing that saved me was too funny a thought to ignore. Moving towards the elevator, I waited, trying to keep my thoughts on the night before and nothing else.

  For how long had I been afraid of my own thoughts?

  Afraid of what the quiet meant for me?

  The truth was that I’d been afraid of my own thoughts for so long that the change Mia had made in me was actually creating a storm in my head. A high concentration of warmth had collided with a block of coldness that was prepared to settle in until the end of time and then…

  BOOM!

  Even there, sitting in that Denny’s, I’d known I’d met someone incredible; someone who was waking up old feelings in me and challenging the dark beast that had since moved into my heart.

  I stopped dead in my tracks at that, groaning.

  “Fuck you, Danny,” I whispered, shaking my head.

  Because hadn’t that know-everything fruit-loop life-Jedi all-but said this would happen?

  “Right down to the ‘prostitute’-part…” I mused, shaking my head and scoffing. Then I repeated, “Fuck you, Danny,” and pressed the call button for the elevator.

  The elevator opened, interrupting my thoughts and I stepped in, mentally tracing the route I’d take at the bottom to get to my chopper. I wondered if she’d be comfortable riding this time around. I figured she must be—after all, she wouldn’t be wearing the same dress… would she?—but then began second-guessing myself.

  Maybe I should go back and ask Danny if I can borrow his car, I thought, then, just as quickly, realized that I was trying to give myself a reason to go back and thought, Quit stalling!

  Stupid!

  She had seen the motorcycle the night before, and she’d even said the only reason she couldn’t ride on it then was because of the situation with her underwear.

  “So let’s just hope that she’s wearing underwear today,” I joked to myself, then immediately wondered if I meant it.

  The elevator opened to the lobby, and I offered the guard inside the station a nod. Moving to my chopper, I took a deep breath, fighting the new wave of fear that surfaced the closer I got to meeting with Mia.

  You think she’ll want to be with you? You don’t even want to be with you.

  “I do now,” I countered the thought in a low mutter. “Especially since she was looking at me like that.”

  And she had been looking at me in that way. Like I was worth it.

  Like maybe I could be alright after all.

  Smiling, I slipped onto the chopper and started the engine, closing my eyes for a moment to savor the sensation of the rumbling engine in conjunction with what I was about to do.

  Me. On a date.

  Yeah. That seemed right.

  Then, remembering one little detail, I retrieved the helmet that had been serving as my spot-holder for so long—it felt good to finally need it—and I started out, expecting to see Anne there at the end of the road.

  But she wasn’t there when I pulled into traffic.

  No, the only thing ahead of me was an afternoon—a date!—with Mia.

  Chapter 12

  ~Mia~

  I couldn’t believe it. I was about to go on a date; an actual date!

  Not a trip behind a dumpster or an excursion to somebody’s backseat; nothing sordid or perverted, and nothing expected but the pleasure of each other’s company.

  A real. Live. Date!

  Moreover, it was a date with someone whose company I had actually enjoyed. It had been so long since I had even felt interested in dating—“Perks of the job, eh?” as Candy had put it—and the sensation was something surreal and almost otherwo
rldly. Like something that I might have felt in a dream or from a past life but was certain I’d never come to feel again.

  Excited as I was, though, I was also terrified.

  Though I’d only been working the streets for a short time, something about it had consumed my entire life and left nothing of what once was behind. Though I’d been on plenty of dates prior to being taken by T-Built, I couldn’t begin to play out a memory of any one of them that didn’t immediately spiral into some memory of a random John. And while I was sure Jace wouldn’t mind getting something from me—Lord knew I didn’t mind the idea of getting something from him—I didn’t want that to be what it was all about. Not like every other night. I wanted this to happen naturally; I wanted it to happen right.

  But after everything I’d done, I wasn’t sure I’d be any good at it. Worse yet, I wasn’t even sure if that concern made sense.

  Being bad at dating? Was that even a thing?

  I supposed it would have to be, right? I remember at least thinking that so-and-so wasn’t good at dating? I could even remember having a chuckle with my old girlfriends from high school about dates gone wrong, but it seemed bizarre that the memory of those conversations should be more memorable than the dates themselves. But even if my own past dates had faded into some strange sort of obscurity, there were plenty of horror stories about dates gone wrong. Such a thing must have, in some way or another, been the fault of at least one of the daters.

  And these were the thoughts that held me gripped in the throes of terror more moments after stepping in front of the mirror to get ready.

  I frowned, chewing on my lower lip. It was scary enough that I had, in such a short time, begun to think of the bulk of my lifetime as already being “another life;” though it felt right, as I couldn’t help but feel like it was an entire lifetime that had passed since then. It hadn’t even been a year and I felt like I’d already thrown away my old life. It was pretty depressing, actually, and I hated the idea of having these thoughts just a short time before my date. I tried not to think about it, but the more I tried to turn off the thoughts the more powerful they rolled on.

  Shaking my head, I looked up into the bathroom mirror. I didn’t even know how long I had been standing there, contemplating everything and working myself into a panic. Though I was certain I couldn’t have been in there for more than a few minutes, it felt like it could’ve been hours. And that only made me that much more panicked, this time that I was already running late. I sighed, swallowing down all the worry, pushing away the pain and regret of my present life and the painfully distant oblivion that my past life had become; mustering all the courage I could, I forced myself to repeat the one simple truth back to myself:

  I was about to go on a date! And, before any worry or panic or other shred of negativity could sew itself into the supple flesh of my newborn optimism, I remembered how Jace had treated me on that first night—how he’d talked to me and how he’d actually listened to me—and it felt right.

  It all felt right.

  And, so long as I was dividing lives, I supposed it was only right to admit that it was the first thing in this life that had ever felt right. Perhaps, since I was feeling daring at that moment, I could go so far as to say it was the most right I’d ever felt in any of my lifetimes.

  “You got this, Mia,” I said to myself, hoping I could sound enough like Candy to be convincing. “You got this!”

  I looked at my reflection, and for the first time since I’d started looking in that mirror I didn’t resent the pretty face staring back. I hadn’t bothered with a ton of makeup, going for a more natural look, and had swept my long hair up into a simple and functional ponytail. I’d decided on a light-blue blouse that I had along with my nicer jeans. I was trying to get as far from the whorish image I’d grown so accustomed to while still staying true to what I personally felt was a charming aesthetic. One might even go so far as to say “cute.” I dwelled on the thought of a prostitute preparing for a date, and I recalled the image of Julia Roberts walking down Beverly Hills’ Rodeo Drive. The pretty, non-whorish girl in the mirror smiled at the thought, and then, seeing me smile back, she laughed.

  The two of us were actually laughing!

  It all felt right! It all felt perfect! Just like Julia Roberts in…

  I stopped laughing—the girl in the not-a-window stopped, too—and I felt my freshly stretched-sore cheeks tug in a defeated frown. I trembled, uncertain, and, worried that my legs might give out entirely, I sat down on the toilet seat.

  “What are you doing?” I asked myself aloud, following this up with “Do you think some white knight—shining armor and all—is going to come in and rescue you from this world; from this awful life?” I shook my head again. “Stupid, Mia. You’re just a stupid…” I sighed, trailing off—unsure if it was out of exhaustion from the mental roller coaster I’d taken myself on or something else—and forced myself to stand up.

  This was not a good idea.

  Nothing that felt this right ever ended well. Nothing in real life ever did. If living two lives had taught me anything, it was that. I left the bathroom intending to cancel the date, hoping that Jace hadn’t left and that I might get him on his cell before he arrived.

  Then Candy stepped in front of me. Candy, normally carefree and smiling, stared at me with her hand outstretched, her eyes hard and unwavering. I frowned, knowing that look, or, rather, knowing that that look meant she knew what my look meant. She’d always managed to read me like I read my books before, and this time didn’t seem to be any different. I gulped, my mouth suddenly dry, my lips suddenly quivering, and my words suddenly gone from me.

  “Hold it, girl,” she started, looking me dead in the eyes. “I know you, and I know your brain—your ‘I can’t ever be happy’-brain—and I know that I’m not letting anyone, not even you, ruin this moment. I even know what that brain’s got you thinking, and I’m telling you and your brain to stop right there. You and this guy obviously have something—call it chemistry or stored-up karma or fate, whatever—and I’m not gonna let you just ruin whatever it is just ‘cause you’ve got yourself thinking bullshit thoughts, got it? So what is it, exactly? Is this the whole ‘who could ever love a whore’-thought process? Or is it the ‘I’ve been with a lot of guys, and they’re all the same in the end’-way of thinking? Or maybe, no, it’s the ‘real life doesn’t have happy endings’-one, is that it? Huh, Mia, is that it?”

  I didn’t answer, but a red-hot burn took to my cheeks. I felt like that answered enough for both of us.

  “Why do you think someone like you isn’t allowed to be happy?” she demanded.

  “Like me? Come on, Candy. You’ve got to be thinking it too, right? I mean, what am I doing here? How is this supposed to work? I just go on a date during the day with him and then head out with you at night to suck and fuck anybody who’s got the cash? I mean, sure, you and I know it’s just a job, but how’s he supposed to handle that? How long is he really going to put up with something like that? How long do you think he’ll be willing to kiss me knowing that my lips had been wrapped around God-knows how many dicks just a few hours earlier? How long before he gets tired of some random John’s sloppy seconds, thirds, or—one a ‘good night’—fifteenths? And what if he’s as great as he seems, Candy; what if he’s willing to put up with all of it with a smile on his face? That’s even worse! A guy like that… how could I give him the life he deserves if this is the life I’m stuck in? And don’t you say that maybe he can get me out of this life, because we both know who calls the shots. It ain’t me, it ain’t him, and it sure-as-shit ain’t you! It’s T-Built, and if he gets any sort of whiff of what’s going on then this life—my life—and all its disgusting, sordid depravities will be the last thing he has to worry about!”

  “Have you already forgotten that this Jace-guy isn’t exactly living the straight-and-level life, either? If I had to guess, I’d be willing to bet good money that he’d be able to take care of himself.”


  “From the likes of T-Built?” I argued.

  Candy only shrugged.

  I shook my head. “This isn’t some fantasy where I accidentally meet the perfect man, Candy. Something will go wrong,” I insisted, looking down. “It always does.”

  “It might not be,” she shrugged. “And maybe you’re right; maybe all this won’t work out. And, if that’s the case, at least you’ll have this moment—a moment that interrupted all the bullshit and rancidness of our lives—and we can reminisce on it together after the shit’s hit the fan. It’ll be a nice memory to look back on, won’t it? But, then again, maybe you’re wrong. Maybe it will work out, and, honestly, I’ve heard of crazier things happening. Either way, you’ll never know if you don’t take the leap, right?”

  “You really think so?” I asked as I bit my lip. My heart was racing.

  I felt like I was reaching, but I wanted to believe her; wanted to try—wanted to think that this could be real.

  I needed this to be real.

  The thought jolted me and I bit my lip. While I certainly wasn’t happy with the way my life had been going so far, and while I was quick to assume that everything was just one, big cosmic trap ready to snap shut on my life, was I so ready to jump at the first thing that might not be a monumental disappointment?

  Yes, I leapt up to answer in an instant. Yes I am!

  I had never been upfront with others. Hell, I had never even really been honest and upfront with myself if I thought back on it. Yet now, when I had already reached what many would agree was, undeniably and without a doubt, rock bottom, it was tough to look anywhere but up. And while the water might have been muddy looking down, from down here everything above was crystal clear. I did want this. I certainly believed I deserved it. And, like Candy had said, would it really be so bad if it did nothing else but distract from the here-and-now? It was a painful thought, but not nearly as painful as the thought of doing nothing.

  I felt myself smile, and, seeing this—seeing the change she’d instilled in me—she smiled back. And then, as if on cue, I heard the sound of a motorcycle engine as it came to a stop outside our living room window below. It revved, idled a moment, and then went quiet as it was turned off.