River James (Rockers Of Steel #3)

by Mj Fields

  “The hand of God is slower than mine today. There isn’t a thing wrong with me.”

  I hear River chuckle, and I want to yell at him, but I force myself to remain calm and professional.

  “Okay, well, I’d love to suggest a paternity test to resolve the question Zachary has, but while we are here, let’s talk about supporting one another in the healing process.” I turn and look at Zachary. “Would you like to tell us your story?”

  “I like to get high.”

  I wait, expecting more. When he doesn’t continue, I nod.

  “I see. And I hope you know that this is a place to turn when you are ready to get clean and stay sober. Are you ready for that?”

  “Pft,” is all he says.

  “Angel?”

  “Of course I want my kid back, but Zack makes it impossible. He doesn’t want to get better for us.”

  “Angel,” I say as I sit in the chair and tuck my leg under me, “do you want to be sober?”

  “I want him to get his shit together and take care of his responsibilities to me and the kid.”

  “You ever think about getting clean and taking on that responsibility yourself?” I look over to see Finn looking at her.

  “It’s not as easy as it looks,” she mutters, rolling her eyes.

  “It’s a choice, Angel, and it’s yours to make,” I tell her, knowing Finn has a short temper, and I want to avoid any more physical outbursts.

  I look at the other men who came in. “Would you like to say something?”

  The first man shakes his head, so I look at the man next to him who does the same thing, and then the woman stands up.

  “I’ve been clean for forty-three days. It’s been a struggle, but I am doing it because I wanna get healthy so that I can get my four children back.”

  “That’s wonderful! Any advice for the others?”

  She shrugs. “One day at a time.”

  “Anyone else?” I know I should look over, but I can’t.

  “I’m”—Finn pauses—”Frank.”

  I sigh inwardly at the bullshit name, but I don’t call him on it.

  “My mom burned down our childhood home when she was cooking meth. I was sent to foster care where my girlfriend OD’d on drugs. I’ve struggled from time to time with needing to get high. However, I haven’t touched a drug in almost three months.”

  “That’s great, Fi-Frank,” I tell him, just like I would to anyone else. “Can you tell us your reason for staying sober?”

  He nods. “I’ve got a wife, a stepson, and a kid on the way. I won’t fuck them or myself up. Life is too damn good when you aren’t chasing the storm.”

  He’s married? I didn’t know that.

  “Congratulations,” I tell him, then take a deep breath, knowing I have to face him now.

  “I’m RJ. Neither of my parents abused drugs that I know of. My mom did have a shoe addiction.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “After my father left, she had a man addiction. One of them had an alcohol addiction and then an addiction for abusing yours truly.”

  I glance over to see he is looking at me. Then he closes his eyes and turns away.

  “You all keep up now, okay? Shit gets tricky.” He laughs, one of River’s coping mechanisms. “When she found out after turning the other cheek to the bruises, bumps, and all the other fucking-” He pauses. “Shit, sorry, all the other obvious signs, she sent me to visit some family and took herself to some tropical paradise with the man who abused me.

  “I didn’t handle it well. I was introduced to drugs that first night. I also was introduced to a chick who”—he chuckles nervously—”literally rocked my world that night. After my mother’s trip, I went home. The monster wasn’t there. There was never a discussion, and before I knew it, the next man was moved in. I didn’t care. I got fucked up, got strong enough that I knew I could defend myself, and Jesse was what I took comfort in. Then she died.

  “Ever since, I’ve chased the high in whatever form it came in. I’m lucky as hell to be alive and to still have friendships that I didn’t completely crush in the process. Now here I am, twenty-two days sober, still riding my last high. And let me tell you all something: the best highs don’t make you wake up, wondering where you are or what the hell you did.”

  “Congratulations,” I force myself to say.

  “Thank you, Keanna. I appreciate it.”

  “She fucking hates me,” I whisper to Finn when she starts talking to the feisty old lady again.

  He chuckles, running his hand through his beard.

  “You think that’s funny?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  I watch her. I can’t take my eyes off her. I never could when she was in the same room with me.

  Fucking beautiful.

  “You got a plan?” Finn asks as we stand to leave.

  “I plan on being buried in that pussy really soon.”

  “You think she’ll—.” He stops and laughs when I give him a look that says fuck yes I think she’ll … whatever he was going to ask.

  “I’ll go and warm up the Rover for you, and then I’m gonna take off.”

  I nod. “Thanks, man.”

  I follow him out, seeing the pastor is saying goodbye to everyone.

  “Where’s the bathroom?” I ask, and he points down the hall. “Thanks.”

  In the bathroom, I look in the mirror and take the hat off. “Bad idea.” I put it back on, then wash the hell out of my hands, scrub my face, and then use my finger to scrub my teeth before popping a piece of gum in. Then I decide to take a piss to pass the time, and when my dick is in my hand, I seriously consider jerking off so that I don’t come too quickly when I’m riding my next high between her legs.

  That’s when I look up and see Jesus staring at me. Right then and there, I decide against it.

  I have danced with the devil, defeated him, and overtaken his throne in Hell. But I have never done the jig with Jesus, and right now, I could use him on my side, so I opt out of blowing a load in the house of the Lord.

  “I need you, man,” I tell the picture hanging high above the urinals.

  When I walk out, I see her shaking the pastor's hand, so I wait until she is out the door before hightailing it toward the exit.

  “RJ?” the pastor calls out, stopping me.

  Shit.

  “Yep. Thanks for—”

  “I heard you tonight.” He stops, not saying anything more.

  I want to tell him I’m in a hurry, that the nice, round ass that just walked out that door has me seeing stars and believing in Jesus, but even I know I can’t say shit like that.

  “Great. Uplifting story. Gotta jet—”

  “Would you consider speaking about your struggles with some of the youth in the area?”

  When I don’t say anything, he goes on.

  “Let your testimony be your ministry.”

  “All due respect, your holiness, but I’m just a drummer.”

  He smiles. “Steel Total Destruction.”

  “How the hell …?” I stop. “I mean, how did you know?”

  “I saw you on television.”

  I crane my neck around, trying to see if Keanna’s pulled out yet.

  “Give management a call. I’ll see what I can do.” Then I jet.

  I see her standing outside her car, fighting with the door handle, and I know that, in some sick way, I just made a deal with a pastor in the house of God, and He’s helping me out, because I just told his man some bullshit about talking to the youth.

  “Keanna!” I yell as I get closer to her.

  She jiggles the door handle faster.

  “Let me get that.”

  “I’m fine,” she snaps in an adorably annoyed tone.

  “Obviously, you could use a hand.” I tug on her handle, and the fucking thing comes off in my hand. “Well, now you need a new handle.”

  “Great,” she mutters, walking around the car. I follow.

  “Keanna.” I grab her hand to stop her. />
  For a moment, my hand touches hers, and I am suddenly insecure as fuck and can’t say shit.

  “River,” she says in a tone that makes me feel as if the world is about to fall the fuck apart again, exactly like it did all those years ago.

  “When she died, I thought I had lost everything that would ever be good in my life.” I tighten my grip on her hand. “I was wrong.”

  “I’m glad you realize that.”

  “I didn’t until you.”

  “Please don’t. Please don’t come here, thinking I am going to fix a problem that no one can fix but you.” She digs in her bag with her free hand and pulls out her keys.

  “You’re asking the impossible.” This feeling like the bottom is dropping out from under you is not fucking cool sober. I snatch away her keys. “You have no idea how insufferable that is going to be.”

  “Keys please.” Her voice cracks. “Please.”

  I open the passenger side of her car, reach in, and push the keys in, starting the car. Then I step out and shut the door behind me, blocking it because I am fucking terrified she is going to get in and leave.

  “While it heats up, sit in mine with me.” I reach for her hand, but she jumps back. “Keanna.”

  “How did you know I would be here?” she asks, and I immediately know I made her nervous.

  I shake my head back and forth. “I didn’t.”

  Her hand immediately covers her heart. “Why would you do that?”

  “Do, what? Come to a meeting? I think—”

  “My meeting. Why would you come to my meeting?” she snaps.

  “Didn’t realize it was your meeting.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “And why is that? Because I’m a big fucking liar?” Now I’m getting pissed. “What the fuck would I have to gain, Keanna?”

  “Oh.” She shakes her head as if erasing an image, then looks down so her hair covers her face. She is hiding. “I really need to get going.”

  “Your car is warming up. Come and sit with me.”

  She doesn’t respond.

  “It’s cold out; come and sit with me.”

  “I would like you to leave,” she says is a soft, cautious voice. “I am so happy for you that you’re trying to get sober.”

  “Twenty-two days, Keanna.”

  She looks up at me and shakes her head. “I hope you can at least be honest with yourself.”

  “I was never dishonest with you.”

  “Right.” She pulls her hood up.

  “You’re cold, babe. Come and sit with me.”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “River, I need to get home.”

  “How’s Tink?”

  She looks up at me and rolls her eyes. “Fine.”

  “She miss me?”

  She shrugs.

  “You miss me?”

  “Why would you ask that question?”

  “No clue. I already know the answer. You missed me.” I look back and forth from her left eye to her right. “I missed the hell out of you.”

  She looks away quickly, but not before I see hope. Well, at least, I feel it.

  “Look, just come and sit with me. I have a lot to tell you and a lot more to ask of you.”

  She clears her throat. “I really have to go.”

  I glance over at her windshield. It’s still covered in frost. “Not anytime soon.”

  “I can’t do this with you,” she says with a little more of the confidence that attracted me to her the first time we met.

  “I won’t let you do it with anyone else.” I smirk and hold up my hand. “This is what I’ve been doing since I saw you last.” She sighs and looks away. Immediately, I need to know. “You been with anyone else?”

  She pulls her coat together, as if she is hiding.

  “Don’t bother. I remember exactly what every inch of you looks like, tastes like, feels—”

  “Yes. Yes, I am seeing someone,” she says, looking me dead in the eyes.

  I immediately tense up, feeling like a fucking idiot.

  “I’m gonna try my best not to flip my shit right now because I couldn’t give a fuck less if you have a fuck buddy, a boyfriend, fiancé, or a fucking husband. I want that ass again,” I growl.

  “And I want you to leave.”

  “I’m not fucking kidding, Keanna. I will win. I will have you under me, filling you with my cum—”

  “Shh!” she snaps, looking around.

  “Jesus knows, Keanna! He fucking knows!” I tell her.

  “What do you know about Jesus, River James?!”

  I scratch my head. “A hell of a lot less than he knows about me, okay? But that’s not the point!”

  Fuck, I was not supposed to get pissed. I was supposed to be calm, sweet … Momma Joe would have my ass if she were here.

  “You do know He also knows when you’re full of shit.” She whispers the word “shit.”

  “About what? That I will be in you? You and I both know that’s gonna happen.”

  “Twenty-one days! You said twenty-two days sober, River. You’re full of it. When I left you twenty-one days ago, you were a mess.”

  “Fucking right I was. Best and worst high of my life!”

  “See? You lied. I know it, and you know it.” She throws her hands in the air, then slaps them down on her thighs. “Jesus knows it. Yet you stand here—”

  “You gave me the drug. You gave me permission! Don’t you get it, Keanna? I got high on you! You fucked me up that badly. You did that to me.”

  She stands there, shaking her head. “I don’t believe you. I don’t—”

  In one step, my hand is behind her neck and the other on the small of her back. I pull her in and kiss her hard. She tenses up, which is my cue to back up, but I have been high on this before, and I want it again.

  I try to shove my tongue between her lips, but her mouth doesn’t open. I don’t give a fuck. It’s a taste to an addiction, like coke on the gums.

  When I rub my hand down her ass and pull her securely against me, she gasps, and I’m in.

  She whimpers against my mouth and relaxes into me. I’m tasting Heaven in the parking lot of a church.

  I hear someone clear his or her throat, and Keanna pulls back. I don’t let go, though. I rub my thumb up and down her jawline as I look into her eyes.

  A car starts up then, and I hear it pull away, but my eyes never leave hers, and hers never leave mine.

  I know it’s only a matter of time before one of two things happens: she gets pissed, which means I don’t have the time to say what I need to say to her, or we fucking freeze to death before I get to feel her around my cock again.

  “I spent—”

  She shakes her head, but I pull her closer.

  “I spent seven days in California, sober and mending fences. When they left, I spent ten more days there with my boss’s mother and her man.”

  She scowls at me, and I can’t help where my mind goes.

  “No. No, kinky shit, but I like the way your mind works.”

  She pushes against me. “I wasn’t thinking anything!”

  I pull her tighter. “Well, then I like the way mine works. When my hard dick is laying against your stomach, you can’t blame me. It’s your fault.”

  She sighs exaggeratedly.

  “Momma Joe is one badass woman. I drank a couple times, and before you get pissed about that, my problem was never with alcohol. But she made me talk. She made me see things I didn’t wanna see, and she made me feel like I mattered. The only person who has ever made me feel like, well, like”—I close my eyes—”like the truth of my past wasn’t going to kill me.”

  “But it was killing you,” she whispers.

  “No, that’s not it. I was the one who put the shit inside me. I wasn’t gonna let …” I stop and look up.

  “You told her about … about Henry.”

  I feel a rumble in my chest as I shake my head.

  “River, telling someone
gives it less power. Talking about it makes it less—”

  “You know.” I open my eyes and look at her. “You know and no one else ever needs to.”

  Her eyes glaze over, and she takes in a deep breath. “I promise.”

  “You didn’t even have to say that. You know why?”

  She shakes her head.

  “Because it’s who you are. I knew it on our fourth date when I overheard Billy asking you something, and you pretended you didn’t know.”

  “Our what? Fourth date?”

  “Yeah. First was the doctor’s office.” I laugh at my skewed way of thinking. “Second, the bar where I defended your honor, because I am apparently chivalrous, or so Momma Joe tells me.”

  “You told her about me?” She seems shocked.

  “Yeah, I told her about you. If it’s not fucking obvious, you wrecked me worse than any drug I have ever put into my body.”

  When she leans her forehead against my chest, I take it as a good sign.

  “Third date was at your apartment when I met your bear-dog and rocked your fucking world. Fourth date, I brought you flowers and saved your dog from the cop with the itchy trigger finger.”

  “You were coming to get your bowl,” she says, looking up at me with a frown.

  “Sh.” I put my finger over her mouth. “This is absolutely the longest relationship I have ever had with a woman as an adult, and I’ve got to make it sound like a fucking fairytale.”

  She smiles and buries her face in my chest again. I fucking love it.

  “Fifth date—”

  “The one you cheated on me with the skank from the dealership?” she asks, pulling back.

  “I didn’t cheat on you,” I huff. Hell, I didn’t even think I would see her again.

  “It was after our fourth date; that’s cheating.”

  “Okay. Again, you have those three little bears and the Goldi-chick; I have River’s Raunchy Bi-racial Romance.”

  She laughs out loud.

  “Moving on.” I chuckle. “Fifth date was rather uneventful. You didn’t even put out, but I assume you had your reasons. Probably your period or something.”

  “This is now a true work of fiction.”

  “Anyway!” I glare at her. “After a morning of spooning, you talked to Billy and didn’t tell him shit. That’s when I knew I was either gonna have to ditch you or fuck you. And, well, our sixth date, I fucked the hell out of you. Then I got so fucking high I fell asleep. I woke to a bad dream and one hell of a blowjob. Then, well, we went through our bad spell.”