Ruin Me: The Summer of Secrets: Part 1

by Christina Hart

Christmas fucking morning, I think, heading for the good stuff. I turn around, still walking backwards and yell out to her, “You’re a size perfect, right?”

  She laughs, clearly embarrassed when other patrons turn to look at us, and shakes her head. “Small, you doofus.”

  About fifteen minutes later, I’ve found it. A black, one-piece, complicated, whatever you call it. It’s very revealing, very hot, and very much something I want to see Kitty in. I’m all but drooling at the thought of taking it off of her.

  I’m also wondering how the hell she’s going to get it on with all these damn strings everywhere like it’s some kind of Pinterest project.

  I find her in the panties section and hold up the nightiemajig to her, pretty proud of myself.

  She smiles and looks at it, turning it around to thoroughly check it out. “Whatever floats your boat. A deal’s a deal.”

  She holds up a five-pack of lacy thongs with about a one-inch strip of fabric going all around the top of them, with all different colors. “These’ll do for me,” she says.

  “I approve,” I say, squeezing her ass with my free hand.

  She slips her hand in my back pocket and I pay for her things before we head home.

  Who would have known underwear shopping was such good foreplay?

  By the time we get home and she slips into the little black number I picked out for her, I admire her in it before taking it off her—with her guidance, of course.

  I’m a mechanic not a magician.

  But I devote my hands and energy to pleasing her as many times as I can before she tells me she has to go.

  Once she’s dressed and I have my pants on, I grab the bag with her panties still in it, taking them out.

  “Wearer’s choice,” I say, holding them up. “Pick a color.”

  “Hmm,” she says, eyeing the colors. “The baby blue. Why?”

  “We had a deal, remember. I get to take each of these off you, at least once. But the baby blue pair you have to save for the fall. No wearing them until then.”

  She smirks and grabs the panties from me, then puts them in her bag. “We’ll just have to see about that.”

  Then, she kisses me before she heads home.

  Once the door closes, I’m already wondering when I’ll see her again and which color panties she’ll wear first.

  19

  AUGUST 1, 11:11PM

  Meet me where the storm meets the horizon,

  where pride releases its grip on our throats,

  where doubts deflate and hearts are finally sure of what they want.

  Take me to a place where standing your ground

  means more in the end

  than being buried beneath it,

  where you don’t swallow your dreams

  and choke on another’s expectations,

  where you don’t punish yourself for failing yourself,

  where you hope for naught

  and want for all.

  Find me in the rose garden there,

  sprinkling silent thanks

  for every hell I had to live through

  in order to make it there.

  “Yo, Kitty Kat,” Sophie calls from the living room as I walk in and close the front door behind me.

  I put my keys down on the kitchen counter and join my sisters on the couch, plopping down between them. I lay my head on Sophie’s lap and stretch my legs over Lucy’s. Sophie starts playing with my hair as I do so.

  “Do you guys think people can change?” I ask, looking up at the ceiling. “I mean, really change. Entire lifestyles. All bad habits included.”

  Sophie remains still, but her face tells me she’s thinking about how to respond.

  Or maybe she just wants to roll her eyes. I’m never quite sure with her.

  “I’d say it depends on the person,” Lucy answers.

  “Dependent on what, exactly?” I ask her.

  Lucy takes a moment to think before she answers. “On whether they acknowledge who they were and embrace who they’ve become,” she finally says.

  I take in her words while thinking about Joey, wishing I could just come straight out and talk to them about him. I briefly consider telling them the truth. I don’t recall a single time in my life I’ve ever made a decision without at least one of my sisters’ input or advice.

  It’s hard knowing what to do when I’m lacking their guidance.

  Maybe they’ve been right this whole time. Maybe I am still incapable of making my own choices. Maybe it’s not that they still feel the need to lead me, but that I need them to.

  “Why do you ask?” Lucy asks.

  I shrug. “Just something I was thinking about, I guess.”

  Lucy looks at me, like she’s deciphering whether or not I’m telling the truth. She’s always been the pensive one, processing her words internally and logically before putting them together in a form that soothes, stings, or pulls.

  “Bullshit,” Sophie says. “Spit it out.”

  Sophie, on the other hand, has always had a way of sucking the information right out of my soul. I think it has something to do with the intensity of her stare, like she’s daring me to lie to her or pretend nothing is wrong.

  Both of them have this certain something that draws the truth from me. Maybe it’s the fact that the same blood runs in our veins. Maybe it’s the bond we’ve built throughout our lives, through beauty and loss and tragedy and growing into women. Maybe it’s just a thing with sisters. That they seem to just know. Even when you don’t want them to.

  I settle on telling them part of the truth. A part they can live with. And me, considering I’d be headless if they knew I was sneaking around behind their backs to go see Joey.

  “I don’t know. I heard through the grapevine that Joey’s changed. That he’s different now. Got out of the motorcycle club and has his head on straight,” I say.

  For a brief moment, Lucy and Sophie look at each other—but it’s not so brief that I don’t catch it.

  “Wait,” I say. “What was that? You guys just looked at each other like there’s something you know that I don’t.”

  Sophie fumbles over her words momentarily before regaining her footing. “There wasn’t a look. Do you hear yourself right now? We’ve been home for a little over a month, and you’re already thinking of going back to him. Why? Why not date someone new? Can you just not help yourself with him at all? I get it, I’ve been there. But at some point, you just have to let high school shit go.”

  I look down in shame and shrug, unable to admit that no, I can’t help myself. I have no defenses against Joey Madden, no immune system. And worse, I have no desire to stray from him.

  Being back in this town only makes it worse. The distance he covers, the places we’ve been—together—he’s everywhere. And he’s constantly calling to me.

  “I just think about him sometimes, and if things could be different now that’s he’s out of that shit lifestyle,” I say softly.

  Lucy leans forward, her lips parted as if she’s tasted her words and decided they’re perfectly ripe for the occasion. “I do think people can change. And I think beautiful people in the world—like you—can wish change for everyone. But I’m not convinced that Joseph Madden is capable of turning his life around. My concern is for you, having loved and left him…and me. I don’t want to see that happen again. Not when I’ve witnessed him hanging around with that rough crowd, making a mess of the town while you’ve been gone.” She places firm fingers on my knee. “Some people are worth the risk. And others…they’ll just keep burning you until there’s nothing left to light.”

  Her words snag on my heart and I breathe out in response. I try to think of a way to defend him, but I know better, and it lodges in my throat. No matter what I might try to say, they would use sound reasoning to prove me wrong. And I wouldn’t be able to argue. Because you can’t argue with the truth, even when you don’t want to believe it.

  But the good in him, I think. All that good. It’s still in there.
If only you guys would try to see it.

  “She’s right, Kitty,” Sophie says. “Now, stop thinking about him. Go write a hate poem about him or something and remember why you left him to begin with. Lucille and I have a few things we have to talk about.”

  “When are you guys gonna tell me what’s going on with the bookstore? I know something’s up. I heard that guy who came in the other day and offered to buy it,” I say.

  A glance is shot between them again.

  “There’s nothing to worry about, Kitty,” Lucy says.

  I exhale again, this time louder and more purposeful, and I stand from the couch. “All right then, keep your secrets,” I say, mimicking the popular meme floating around the internet we always send to one another.

  “Goodnight, ass hat,” Sophie says, laughing.

  “We love you,” Lucy calls to my back, since I’m already walking away.

  “Love you guys, too!” I yell.

  I make my way upstairs to my bedroom and sit on my bed. Taking out the new pack of panties Joey bought for me, I stare at the baby blue pair, turning them over and over in my hands. I graze my fingertips against the lace, thinking about how easy it is to tear things to shreds. Love is such a delicate thing in careless human hands. So easy to fumble with and destroy.

  I wonder if my sisters might be wrong this time. I wonder if Joey and I really can make it to fall.

  The more I’m around this version of him, the more I think I’d like us to.

  20

  AUGUST 3, 7:32PM

  My cell phone vibrates in my pocket, so I throw the dirty rag over my shoulder and slide out from under the Chevy Blazer I’m working on.

  I look at the familiar name lighting up my screen and wonder what he wants. We don’t talk much since I left the club, but to me, an old friend is still a friend regardless.

  “Mickey,” I say, answering the phone with a grin as I stand and light a cigarette, leaning against the hood. “Long time no bullshit. What’s up?”

  “Joey fuckin’ Madden,” he says with a slight laugh in his voice. “It has been a long time. The guys miss you, man.”

  I tilt my head back and repress the words I’ve already repeated to him countless times. I substitute them for the truth instead. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss you guys too sometimes. But, it’s gotta be this way. I told you that.”

  “I know, I know. So, you straighten your life out yet like you wanted to?” he asks me.

  “I’m getting there,” I tell him. “Keeping my hands clean has certainly helped.”

  “Yeah, about that…”

  I look around to make sure no one’s in ear range before I inquire what he’s getting at, knowing that’s about to change. “What’s up?”

  “Well, you know how no one gave you too much shit about getting out besides blacking that ink on your leg? It’s time to return one of those favors you promised us,” Mickey says.

  Fuck. I swallow hard, hoping it’s nothing too crazy. The last favor involved a very sketchy and very risky drug run. I swore it was my last good deed for the club. But with this life, you never know what your last errand will be, or if it will be your last act in general on this god forsaken planet.

  “What do you need?” I ask him, biting the bullet.

  “A couple of hot heads from a new local MC threatened to shoot up our clubhouse to Dylan’s old lady. We’re gonna go over to their little shack and pay ‘em a visit.”

  “Come on, man. This rival shit always ends badly. You know it,” I try.

  “We need the muscle, Joey. And you always knew how to throw a punch,” he states.

  “Yeah, where’d the muscle get Skully?” I ask him, reminding him of our friend who’s been six feet under since this revenge shit granted him two bullets in the head.

  He was rewarded with his nickname after death.

  It was around the time I realized this life was not just for fun, or brotherhood.

  Silence on the other line. And then, “That was different.”

  “How, Mickey?” I ask. “How was that any fucking different than this? It’s an endless cycle. We go there, they’ll come to Cherry Cove, and then what? Who dies next? One of the guys, one of their wives? A fucking kid? A neighbor?”

  “You owe us. Be at the clubhouse at nine tonight. We ride out at midnight. End of discussion.”

  I hear the silence again, fully aware that he’s hung up and the conversation is over. I don’t have a choice in the matter. I signed my life away to the club, even upon getting out of it. Some blood never washes away. Sometimes, even when you try, your hands will never be wiped clean of your past.

  I go inside to shower. Afterwards, I grab my blade from my drawer and slip it into my pocket before heading out. I may know how to throw a punch, but I also know that some of these guys might be fighting with way more than just their hands. Cherry Cove MC members included.

  After all this time, they’ve still got my cut behind the counter for times like this. Mickey comes over to greet me, shoving it against my chest when I reach the bar after walking inside.

  “Glad you showed up,” he says roughly.

  I nod, even though we both know it wasn’t really optional. Still, he gives me a hard hug.

  “Get this stranger a beer, will ya?” he shouts over his shoulder.

  I grab the bottle after Missy slides it over to me. One of the local crew girls.

  “You’re lookin’ real good, Joey,” she says, eyeing me suggestively, no morsel of shame or shyness in her voice. “What are you doing later?”

  “Not you, sweetheart,” I tell her, an apology in my tone. “I’m flattered, but I’m spoken for these days.”

  “Ugh, still?” she whines, bringing a laugh out of me.

  “For as long as she’ll have me.”

  She pours us two shots. “Well, I’ll be damned. A faithful fucking man. I’ll drink to that.”

  I drink mine back after we clink our shot glasses together and turn around to my name being called.

  I always have a bit of hesitation when I’m back in the clubhouse as a non-member. I may have left on the best terms as I could have, given the entire situation, but you never know what mood the guys will be in, who might be too drunk or outspoken, who might think I’m a pussy or worse, a traitor. And one thing I do know is none of them take a shine to outsiders, especially the newer members I don’t know.

  But, I don’t know if it’s better or worse that most of them aren’t getting wrecked before we head out.

  It tells me that they’re serious about this. Serious enough to stay mostly sober.

  And when the VP pulls us in to discuss the little surprise get-together get-down, I know we’re heading into a whole lot of shit I’ve been trying to stay away from.

  We head out into the lot at the same time. Thirteen members total, plus me. We start our bikes and ride out at midnight, as planned. Two of the guys bring the van, and knowing what’s inside, I nearly change my mind. A little voice inside tells me to turn around, but I ignore it.

  Because I have to.

  21

  AUGUST 4, 8:08AM

  The hidden monster in you is selfish and reckless,wrecking us for fun.

  The hidden monster in me is starved and voracious for you,

  snaking us into one.

  She’s a rabid dog that likes you most,

  licking your scraps and wounds while snarling at me.

  She is traitorous and tempted,

  still howling for you, still crawling to you.

  I can’t leash this sick love,

  it is constantly breaking and bending for you.

  You are unmoving, the firm hand for the wild heart that thrashes.

  The hidden monster in you,

  the lifeblood to our living and breathing tragedy that thrives,

  he is so buried, so safe, so warm,

  you don’t even recognize him as grotesque anymore.

  I’m a slave to mine.

  His and hers,


  you’re the master of both.

  You are still taming her as she’s still maiming me.

  And I am still learning that I cannot outrun either of you.

  I come downstairs to find Lucy at the kitchen table. She’s reading the morning paper with her signature cup of tea on the table, the tea bag resting on the surface, likely driving Sophie nuts as usual.

  I walk over to each of them and give them a kiss on their head. Lucy puts the newspaper down as I do so.

  “Morning,” I say with a smile, grabbing my favorite mug from the cupboard before heading toward the coffee pot.

  “Kitty, you should sit down,” Lucy says, placing her hands on the paper.

  I wrinkle my brow at her as I pour my coffee. “Why, exactly?” I ask, still with a half-smile, only out of curiosity this time. But something in her tone tells me this won’t be a pleasant conversation.

  My sisters only tell me to sit down when they think I can’t handle something. When they think news might upset or enrage me—and I’ve been known to suddenly react both ways. I can’t help it. My temper knows no bounds. It comes quick, but it can depart just as fast.

  When Lucy doesn’t respond, I look at Soph for some sort of hint. Her eyes meet mine before falling on nothing in front of her, telling me she doesn’t want to be the one to say it.

  “Just, sit,” Lucy says. “Please.”

  Her eyes are begging and sorry and the fear takes hold of me.

  I add in my creamer and sit across from Sophie, then lean toward Lucy who’s sitting at the head of the table.

  “What is it? You’re scaring me,” I say.

  I want to fidget with my fingers or hair but I remind myself I am not five anymore and my nervous tics don’t get me anywhere.

  Lucy looks at Sophie who nods silently. “It’s Joseph,” Lucy starts.

  My heart starts pounding in my chest. Please, don’t let him be dead. Please tell me he’s okay. “Wh-what about him?” I stutter. “Is he okay?” I want to rush to her, snatch the paper from beneath her guarding hands. Another part of me is dreading what she’s about to say next. I want to run, flee from whatever bad news is about to bombard me.