MOAN: The Cantonneli Mafia

by Sophia Gray

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Cade

  I stayed in the motel room at Four Courts for a hell of a lot longer than just one hour. I couldn’t stand the thought of seeing Vanessa or Rudy by the time I left. Not that I thought Vanessa would deign to hang around. After all, she made her choice. She didn’t want a life with me. She wanted me to be miserable.

  By the time I finally left the motel, it was beginning to get dark outside. I took a deep breath of the humid nighttime air and closed my eyes, trying to breathe. Everything hurt. My limbs hurt, my chest hurt, even my heart hurt. I could barely even think about what the future was going to be like. Back when Vanessa and I had been together, I’d had a goal. I’d had a plan for something to do.

  Now, I had no fucking idea.

  Climbing on the back of my bike, I pulled my half-shell helmet over my head and turned on the headlights. The forest and trees surrounding the Four Courts motel were dark and ominous, and it sent a ripple of excitement through me. Like the trees, I felt dark and ominous. Like the trees, I wasn’t ever sure if dawn would rise again.

  Setting my jaw, I zoomed out of the parking lot and onto the open road. The wind felt stinging and cold against my face, but I reveled in the sensation. It had been a long time since I’d been on my own like this, without thinking of the work I had to do for the Prophets or when I could see Vanessa again. Just the thought of her name was enough to sent a spike of pain through my body, and I winced, pushing my bike faster and faster as I whipped through the blackness.

  The woodsy smell of the trees was familiar to me, but I closed my eyes and tried to imagine that I was someplace new. Someplace where I’d never heard of Vanessa, someplace that was just mine and mine alone. As I pushed my bike faster, her scent of cinnamon and flowers came rushing powerfully over me. The scent made my eyes tear up, and I swallowed hard. No, I wasn’t going to cry. Real men didn’t cry—Bleeding Prophets didn’t cry. And even though I wanted nothing to do with my club at the moment, I realized that they were the only way I’d get through this.

  But it was because of them that I’d had to give up the only woman I ever truly loved. Vanessa was one of a kind, unlike any other girl I’d slept with before. I’d been with dozens—no, hundreds—of women, and not a single one of them had been anything like Vanessa. In fact, they had all been mostly the same. Sure, they all looked different and smelled different, but they all fucked the same, and they all sounded the same. It was always the same story: they grew up and left home at sixteen, worked as a waitress, fucked truck drivers and rode around in the back of a truck cab. They were all jaded women, all hard, all angry by the young age of twenty. I could tell that none of them had ever been children, been girls in the same way that Vanessa had. When Vanessa was running through the sprinklers and going to church with her parents, the girls I’d fucked were probably giving blowjobs to friends of their fathers for weed or booze or anything they wanted.

  I’d come from a life like that, too. Maybe that was one of the reasons why I never wanted to be with a woman like that. Maybe I was too afraid that we’d keep the cycle going—pop out a couple of kids, go on the dole, watch as our toddlers ran around saying fuck and shit and demanding Pepsi instead of milk. Settling down with a trash woman was just one way to guarantee a life of misery for myself, and I just didn’t want it to happen.

  But Vanessa hadn’t been like that. Vanessa was apple pie and all-American, the kind of girl who’d stay home and cook a four-course meal for our first anniversary. I could practically see her in the kitchen now, bustling around in a cute little robe and slippers. She’d decorate everything with floral patterns, or a cheery check that spoke to her personality. Nothing would be grungy, or greasy, or smell like cigarettes. No, Vanessa was perfect, and she deserved that kind of a perfect life.

  Anger roared inside of me as I thought about the kind of guy she’d likely wind up marrying. Someone named Jared or Jonny, probably, someone who made six figures and bought Vanessa a car as a present for having a kid. Someone who’d never been arrested, someone who’d never stayed up all night doing blow and smoking cigarettes until the first streaks of dawn were visible through the windows.

  In other words, someone who was everything that I wasn’t. My bike rounded a sharp turn and I snarled against the wind, feeling it whip against my cheeks and lips like I was a dog in the car, sticking my head outside of the back window. No, Vanessa could never wind up with someone like me. I was the kind of guy her parents had warned her away from for her whole life. I was the kind of guy who was the villain—the guy she deserved would be the one to save her.

  I didn’t even know where I was going until I pulled into The Last Haul. The fluorescent lights were blazing through the windows and I could hear the honky-tonk music playing from the parking lot. I could hear laughter, too, and smell all kinds of scents: stale beer, fried food, the kind of cheap perfume that biker girlfriends wore.

  Frowning, I left my helmet on the seat of my bike and pushed the door open. The inside was packed—I’d never seen it so crowded. A small band was playing in one corner of the room and the floor was filled with couples dancing. Mostly guys, like myself, with an MC, but a few civilians: white trash dudes and their girlfriends, dancing so close that they looked like they were fucking from the waist down. Renting a tile was what I’d always called it.

  I felt my heart grow more bitter by the second watching the happy couples dance away. Pushing my way through the crowd, I bellied up to the bar and sat on a stool.

  Arianna came over almost immediately. She winked and smiled at me, and I found that for once, I couldn’t return the greeting.

  “Hey, sugar,” Arianna said. She slid a shot of bourbon over towards me and I knocked it back in one gulp. “How you doin’?”

  “Hit me again,” I replied, pushing the empty shot glass towards Arianna on the bar. She bit her lip and stared into my eyes.

  “What happened?”

  “I don’t wanna talk about it,” I said darkly. Pulling a wad of cash out of my pocket, I pushed it towards her on the bar. “It doesn’t matter,” I added. “I’m here to get drunk.”

  Arianna shrugged. She pocketed the money and poured me a double this time, sliding it over with a rueful grin on her face. I liked her; I knew that no matter what happened, she wouldn’t press me to talk more.

  The bourbon burned a familiar fire in my throat as I drank greedily. Whenever my glass was empty, Arianna refilled it. I closed my eyes and sucked down shot after shot, until I was starting to feel dizzy. The more I drank, the more Vanessa’s face floated in front of my mind. I wanted to call her suddenly, more than anything. It couldn’t be a bad idea, could it? She had to answer. After all, she loved me. At least that was what I’d thought before the bitch broke my heart.

  My hand curled into a fist and I felt the dull pain of my nails breaking the skin on my palms. I didn’t want to think about feeling like this forever, but I knew that something had changed inside of me. And I had a feeling that whatever it was that had changed wasn’t going to change back. Something inside of me was different, hardened, even more cynical than I’d been before I met Vanessa.

  “Hey, faggot.”

  I turned around and there was a tall, menacing-looking figure there. He was dressed in biker leathers but I didn’t recognize him from any local MC. He didn’t look Italian, so I didn’t think there was any way he was a Catcher.

  “Hey, yourself,” I slurred back, getting to my feet. I stumbled briefly but managed to recover and looped my thumbs through my belt loops. “What the fuck is your problem?”

  The man snickered. He stepped closer. “Is that your faggy little bike out there?” He pointed through the window and I saw that my bike was knocked over and laying on its side. Something primal, more natural than anger and rage, rushed through my body, and before I knew what I was doing, I’d made a fist with my hand, swung back, and landed a hard punch on the man’s jaw.

  He cried out and staggered back, his hand clutching t
he area that I’d punched. My vision began to blur and I stepped towards him again, yanking my arm back and snarling.

  “Did you knock my fuckin’ bike over?” I stepped closer. The alcohol made me feel like I was immersed in a giant lake, and I had to blink a few times in order to get the man in clear sight. “Did you knock it over, asshole?”

  The man laughed. He threw his head back and snarled at me with yellow teeth. “You’re a faggot,” he said again, still clutching his jaw. He swung at me but I ducked and he went staggering off to the side. As he passed me, I jerked my knee high up in the air and it landed in his gut. Pain bloomed in my knee but I ignored it, putting my hands on the man’s shoulders and throwing him to the side of the room. As the people around us cried out, I went chasing after the stranger and socked him hard in the nose.

  The man looked at me with blood pouring down his face. When he opened his eyes, I saw an animalistic rage there. He swung back to hit me and this time, I didn’t even duck, I just let him hit me right in the face. His fist connected with my jaw and pain shot through my body. I closed my eyes, moving my jaw around. It hurt, but it almost felt good. Moving forward, I tried to hit him again but the man was quicker and he kicked my legs out from under me. The floor almost seemed to rise up to meet me as I fell, and the earth was spinning around me.

  “Hey, faggot,” the man sneered. He walked closer to my face. “Faggot, get the fuck up and fight me like a man!”

  Suddenly, I saw him being dragged away. There were hands on me, and they were pulling me up, towards the light.

  The pain and feeling of disorientation was too much. I passed out.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  When I woke up, my head hurt more than anything else had ever hurt in my life.

  Except maybe my heart.

  “Cade, sweetie, you okay?” Arianna was sitting next to me. She was blurry and seemed to be made overlapping circles. One minute her hand was on my face, holding something soft and cold, the next minute, she was standing across the room, pouring me a glass of water.

  “What the fuck happened?” I blinked a few times and stared right into Arianna’s pretty, sun-browned face. The longer I stared at her, the more in focus she appeared. “Did I pass out?”

  Arianna shook her head and gave a nervous chuckle. “Honey, someone came in and started shit with you,” she said. “You had the edge, at first, although you were so piss drunk by that point. I have no idea how you managed to land a punch!” She laughed again, more genuinely this time.

  When I licked my lips, I tasted blood. Slowly, shards and fragments of the night before were coming back to me. “That asshole knocked over my bike,” I sneered. “And he came in here, calling me a fucking faggot! Do you believe that?”

  Arianna snorted. “Honey, I get all kinds of riff-raff in my bar,” she said softly. “Here, take this.” She handed me a cold compress and I pressed it against my jaw. I could tell that a couple of my teeth had been knocked loose, my jaw ached and the skin felt hot to the touch. I put the back of my hand against my forehead and figured that between the insane hangover and the fight, I probably had a little fever going on.

  “Sorry about that,” I muttered. “I’ve been going through…some shit.”

  Arianna eyed me sympathetically and clucked her tongue at me. “I get that, sugar,” she said softly. She handed me a glass of ice water. “Don’t drink this too fast,” she warned. “I don’t want you puking everywhere.”

  When I glanced around, I realized that I was in the back room of her bar, on the pullout couch. Through the windows, the full moon gleamed and I felt the sense of tugging emptiness return. It was everything I wanted, everything I felt I deserved. Without Vanessa, I knew that the rest of my life would be miserable.

  “Thanks,” I said. I took a few greedy swallows of the icy water, then remembered Arianna’s words and slowed down. My stomach rolled and twisted like I’d eaten something rotten, and the urge to vomit passed over me like a tidal wave. I closed my eyes and breathed through my nose until it passed.

  “So, what happened?” Arianna took the glass from me and set it down on a small table to the right of the bed. “What put you in such a fighting mood, mister?”

  I sighed. “That asshole kicked my bike over,” I said. “Wouldn’t that be enough for you?”

  Arianna laughed uncertainly. “I know you’re pullin’ my leg,” she said softly. “I know it ain’t just that. If everything was goin’ right, you wouldn’t be in here in the first place.” She raised her eyebrows and looked at me as though she were peering over a pair of reading glasses. “And don’t tell me that ain’t the truth. I know you, Cade. I know your habits by now.”

  I swallowed another sip of water and glanced down at the grubby, thin carpet spread over the floor of the back room. The water was starting to make me feel just a bit better, but my head was still throbbing.

  “It’s a girl,” I said darkly. “This girl, Vanessa, I was seeing her. She’s a college kid, goes to UW Madison.” I glanced away. “I don’t really wanna talk about it anymore.”

  Arianna clucked again. The sympathy was emanating from her in great, motherly waves and I felt almost comforted as we sat in silence.

  “And she dumped you?” Arianna eyed me.

  I bit my lip. “Yeah,” I said. “More or less.”

  Arianna raised her eyebrow. She got up and came back with a box of water crackers. “Honey, eat some of these,” she said. “You’ll feel better when you get something in that great big stomach of yours.”

  I rolled my eyes but reluctantly took a cracker and nibbled the corner, like I was some anorexic girl. “Right,” I said. “Anyway, yeah. I asked her to marry me, and she said yes. And then she changed her mind.”

  Arianna patted my hand. “Honey, lots of women don’t get your lifestyle,” she said softly. “You’re gonna have trouble meeting someone, especially some college girl.” She shook her head and I felt a lecture coming on. “Those girls are the kinds of girls who want the world at their feet, honey. They don’t wanna be trapped in some little town like Madison.”

  I shook my head. “It wasn’t like that,” I said. “She…she’s different. She came from a real different background, Arianna. Real educated, real smart parents who were controlling but only because they wanted her to be a good girl.” I shook my head. “The first time I met her, she showed up at a Bleeding Prophets party wearing a pink cardigan. It was embroidered.” I gestured over my chest. “With flowers.”

  Arianna laughed. “And lemme guess, she took one look at you and decided that you were the bad boy of her dreams? The kind of guy she wanted to cut her teeth on?”

  I snorted. “Not exactly.” Talking about Vanessa like this was painful, but not as painful as thinking of how she’d ended things. It was almost fun, now, to think about how cute and innocent she’d been when we first met.

  “Then what?”

  I shrugged. “I gave her the bug, I guess,” I said sadly. “And then she decided that she couldn’t make me give this up for her.”

  Arianna stared. “She’s a smart girl,” she said softly. “She’d never be able to fit into your lifestyle, Cade. Enjoy it while it lasts, that’s what my poor father used to say. Just enjoy while it lasts and keep your real life in mind at all times.”

  I didn’t reply. Arianna’s words had somehow soured the fun of reminiscing. I realized with a lump in my throat that I didn’t want my life anymore. Not if it meant living without Vanessa.

  # # #

  After Arianna and I talked for a while, I’d gone back to sleep. I’d dreamt of Vanessa. They were good dreams, too, the kind of dreams that would have made me call her up afterwards or go into the shower so I could jack off. But I couldn’t do that now—it would hurt too much. I felt like a real pussy: I’d never been able to not jack off before, and now I was wondering if I’d ever be able to do it again without thinking of Vanessa.

  The pullout couch in the back of The Last Haul was lumpy, and after a while, I had
to get up. It was dawn, the first pink and orange streaks were making their way across the sky and filling the horizon with a gorgeous warm rainbow. I blinked as I stepped out into the sunshine and righted my bike before climbing on and turning back towards town. It looked okay—there were a couple of scratches that I could buff out, but nothing too severe. Still, I was pissed. I didn’t know who that mystery asshole had been, but he should have known better than to fuck with random bikes. If he’d been a Demon Catcher, he would have been killed for pulling that shit.

  The Demon Catchers. Just thinking of those cocksuckers put a bad taste in my mouth. As I steered my bike back towards Madison, I felt an anger seep through my veins and cells. Suddenly, I didn’t care about feeling better and getting on with my life. I wanted those assholes to pay. It was their fault for all of this. If they hadn’t fucking outed me for pushing pills at their club, then Rudy never would have told me to stay away from Vanessa. If it wasn’t for the Demon Catchers and their asshole behavior, I’d still be happy as a clam, buried to the hilt in the most perfect woman I’d ever met.