Still Standing

by Kristen Ashley

  Yes, I thought, in many ways he was.

  Something to contemplate.

  Like Gear, I studied the landscape.

  We were comfortably silent for a while.

  Gear broke the silence.

  “What’s a Biker Babe Ritual?”

  I turned to him to see he had his eyes on me and they were dancing.

  “Um…did you see all those bags your dad had when we walked in?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Lorie, Minnie and Pinky took me shopping at biker babe shops today. We went to approximately three hundred of them, I tried on biker babe apparel and they talked me into buying the vast majority of it. That’s a Biker Babe Ritual.”

  “Doesn’t sound fun,” Gear noted.

  “Well, you’re not a girl. For a girl, something like that is fun, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t exhausting.”

  “You goin’ for the biker babe look?” he asked, eyes still dancing.

  “They assure me I can pull it off, but I must admit, I’m not very assured.”

  “You’d probably look good in anything, Clara.”

  I felt my belly get warm.

  “That’s sweet, Gear.”

  “But you look good now, as you are,” he continued. “You don’t need to be a biker babe. Take it from me, I’m a guy, you definitely work what you already are.”

  I stared at him, stunned.

  Something else to contemplate.

  His lips twitched before he asked, “But, uh…what are you?”

  “I’m a librarian.”

  He returned my stare a second.

  Then, just like his dad, he threw his head back and laughed, loud and deep.

  It wasn’t rough, like his father’s laughter, but it was just as beautiful.

  When he stopped laughing, he wiped his hand over his mouth and muttered to the view, “Freakin’ hilarious. Dad’s hooked up with a librarian.”

  “Yes, I figure I’m not his type,” I, too, spoke to the view.

  “Don’t know his type, Clara,” Gear stated, and I returned my attention to him to see he was still gazing at the scenery. “Dad don’t bring women home. Seen him with women down at the Dive, but he doesn’t bring ’em home. You’re the first since he and Ma split three years ago.”

  I blinked at him in shock as he turned his head to me.

  “But if Ma’s anything to go by, you are definitely not his type. You haven’t once shouted or thrown anything or stomped out of the room. Seems to me he’s aimin’ higher than his first go.”

  That was such a nice thing to say, my belly warmed again.

  “I’m thinking you’re a good man, Gear,” I said softly, and he grinned a cocky grin.

  “Yeah, but don’t get fooled, Clara. I’ll let you in on a secret. That’s how I reel ’em in,” he replied brazenly, and it was my turn to stare for a moment before it was my turn to throw my head back and laugh, something I did.

  It felt nice when I heard Gear’s chuckle join my laughter.

  When we were done, Gear sucked back soda and I chewed on margarita-flavored ice.

  Then Gear muttered, “Gotta hand it to Dad, only he’d find the only librarian in Phoenix who was hot.”

  I couldn’t help it, I laughed again.

  Gear joined me.

  13

  Tatiana

  My body was moved, and my eyes fluttered open.

  Time for bed.

  I blinked at the clock on the DVD player.

  It was flashing twelve, like normal.

  But I sensed it was early.

  This was because of the program that was on mute on the TV. It had to be before eleven.

  Weird, Buck never went to bed this early.

  It was after Buck’s enchiladas, which were by far and away the best enchiladas I’d ever tasted in my life.

  They were so the best, they could easily be placed in the top five of the best of any food I’d ever tasted, thus explaining Gear’s and Tatiana’s excitement when Buck announced he was making them. I’d set aside plans for just about anything to eat Buck’s enchiladas.

  It was also after Tatiana pointedly ignored me throughout dinner as we all sat on stools at the kitchen counter, Buck and I at the counter in the kitchen, Tatiana and Gear on the stools on the other side.

  This was a mistake I made innocently, assuming a seat by Buck.

  It was clearly Tatiana’s and I knew this when her eyes flashed fire the second I put my behind there.

  I immediately slid off and offered it to her, but she refused, mouth tight, eyes angry and she didn’t even try to be polite. Indeed, for some time, she milked this for the insult that resulted in a deep wound she made clear would never heal. A wound she was intent to make absolutely certain I knew I’d delivered.

  Gear attempted to inject humor into the situation, and Buck tried to catch Tatiana’s eyes, his holding a warning that he was beginning to get impatient with her behavior, but both deflected off her.

  She then began a campaign of chatting about things that were familiar among the three of them. Things I could have no comment on, pointedly keeping me out of the conversation.

  Buck and Gear just as pointedly drew me back in.

  To this, Tatiana moved on to other subjects that would keep me out.

  And Buck and Gear again drew me back in.

  Finally, Tatiana fell silent and started pouting.

  I could get her being close to her dad, and I definitely understood her wanting him all to herself, especially if things weren’t good at home with her mother and the girls at school. This was her safe place. I could see that. Her father was her safe person, I could see that too.

  But the pouting, at sixteen, I thought was taking it too far. It made her look juvenile because it was juvenile.

  Though, obviously, I didn’t share this opinion.

  Buck did.

  When the time had come for them to get ready to go, he followed her to her room, closed the door and didn’t come out for a full fifteen minutes.

  Although I had to agree that maybe a word (or fifteen minutes of them) was now due, I made myself scarce through this by fixing myself another margarita and taking it to Buck’s room where I put away my new biker babe apparel and set my phone to charge.

  I came out to find Buck drinking a beer and talking to Gear in the kitchen.

  Not two seconds later, Tatiana came out wearing a skirt that was way too short, heels that were way too high, and at least a five-day supply of makeup slathered on her face.

  In other words, my guess, an outfit that would make any father’s head explode, even a badass biker’s.

  I guessed correctly.

  On sight of her, Buck’s body got tight, and I stepped away from him in case his head was about to explode.

  Tatiana ignored it and threw him a challenging look, which, personally, I didn’t think was wise.

  I was pretty certain he wasn’t going to let her go out looking like that, but to my shock, he did.

  Although he did this at the same time warning Gear to, “Keep an eye on your fuckin’ sister.”

  Perhaps that was the answer to one of my questions about this family.

  Buck also showed no hesitation dropping the F-bomb around his kids, even doing it while speaking to them.

  I didn’t ask why he allowed his sixteen-year-old daughter to walk out of the house looking one step up from streetwalker because it was none of my business.

  However, I suspected he did this because he didn’t want to get into it with her in front of me. That would not make him or me popular, and he liked being the former and he wanted the latter.

  After the kids were gone, we didn’t debrief about the night.

  We did what we always did: camped out in front of the TV, my cheek to Buck’s thigh, his feet on the coffee table, his fingers in my hair and a beer in his other hand.

  I was not wrong. After days of being careful with myself, a day of activity tuckered me out. I was asleep within an hour.

&nb
sp; Now I was awake, and apparently it was bedtime.

  Surprisingly, Buck didn’t shift out from under me in order to lift me up and carry me to bed.

  Instead, he pulled me into his lap.

  Automatically, still half in a doze, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders in preparation for him carrying me to the bedroom.

  He didn’t do this either.

  He touched his mouth to mine.

  My eyes opened as his lips slid down my cheek to my jaw to my neck. Through this, his hands worked their way under my blouse so they were skin against skin.

  Oh my.

  “Buck?” I called.

  “I’ll go gentle, baby,” he whispered in my ear. I got what he was saying instantly, and a shiver slid through me. His hands on me, his lips at my ear, all thoughts of Nails or, say, anything, nowhere near my head. “You seem good, but I hurt you, you let me know and we’ll get creative.”

  Creative.

  Oh.

  My.

  “Buck—” I breathed.

  It was already starting, and it revved up when his hands moved over my ribcage and I felt one thumb slide along the underside of my breast.

  That breast swelled, and to keep it company, the other one did too.

  “Buck,” I repeated on a breath.

  His head came up, his mouth taking mine in a full-on, tongues-tangled kiss.

  Wow.

  I moved my arms from his shoulders so I could get my hands to his skin. When I pulled his T-shirt free of his jeans and slid my fingers over the sleek, hard muscle, I liked it so much I moaned into his mouth.

  Buck liked that so much, he shifted so his back was to the seat of the couch, I was on top, and his fingers plunged into my hair, cupping my scalp, tilting my head and holding me to him so his mouth could plunder mine.

  I let him plunder. He could plunder all night. I loved the way Buck plundered and I showed him this by pressing into him.

  His other hand moved between us, undoing my jeans then sliding around and down, his fingers clenching my behind.

  I pushed my hips into his.

  “Fuck, baby, missed this ass,” Buck growled against my lips, his fingers digging in, and I agreed, partially.

  I missed his hand on my ass.

  I cupped his bearded jaw and slid my lips through his thick whiskers down the other side, to his neck and onward, to the collar of his tee. I ran my tongue along the edge of the material.

  He tasted good everywhere.

  He flexed his fingers into my flesh again then I felt his body go still under mine.

  My head came up and I looked down at him.

  His head was turned, and his brows were drawn.

  I turned to see what he was looking at, just caught the lights on the drive, and then I was moving. Before I knew it, I was on my feet and Buck was doing up my jeans.

  “Fuck, they’re early,” he muttered.

  “What? Who?” I asked, confused and trying to adjust from making out with Buck on his couch with his hand in my jeans to standing beside it with his hands doing up my zipper.

  “Tatie and Gear,” he answered, and I looked from his hands to his face as he finished with the button and his fingers moved to curve around my hips and pull me to him. “Their curfew is one. It’s barely eleven. They’re early.”

  Oh.

  Big-time bummer.

  “Oh,” I whispered as I laid my hands flat on his chest.

  His hands stayed where they were, keeping me where I was, but his head turned toward the front door.

  “Not thinkin’ this is good,” he murmured.

  “Why?”

  He looked down at me.

  “They both like a good time. They’re never home early.”

  “Do they usually get in by curfew?” I asked.

  “They’ve pushed it once or twice, but yeah, usually. Just never early.”

  The door opened and both Buck and I looked that way.

  It took approximately three quarters of a second to see why Gear and Tatiana were home early.

  Gear was angry, very angry, spitting-venom-like-his-dad angry.

  Tatiana was one hundred percent hammered.

  “Do not give me shit,” Gear warned, his eyes on his father, his hand curled around his sister’s biceps, propelling her drunk-and-loose-like-a-ragdoll body into the house and slamming the door.

  Buck had let me go and he was on the move, making a beeline toward his kids.

  “What the fuck?” he clipped, not heeding Gear’s warning. “Didn’t I say look out for her?”

  “Yeah, you said it. She just didn’t listen to a freakin’ word I said. I dumped three beers, she just got more and did shots of everything anyone would offer her. She was on a frickin’ mission to get totally and completely shitfaced.”

  Oh dear.

  I had a not-so-vague feeling this was my fault.

  Buck commandeered Tatiana by taking hold of her other biceps and pulling her from Gear, who seemed happy to be rid of her.

  Her head bobbing on her shoulders, she stumbled. Her feet shifting to right herself, she slipped off her heel, and then by what would seem from her state was a small miracle, she recovered. The whole time she looked up and didn’t exactly focus on her father.

  “Hey, Daddy.”

  She grinned at her dad, then gulped, and suddenly, Buck and Gear both moved quickly, each taking a huge step away from her as she bent over and vomited on the wood floor of the entry.

  Ick!

  “Fuck me,” Buck growled, his angry eyes aimed to the floor.

  I moved while ordering, “Get her to the bathroom.”

  “No shit, Toots?” Buck replied as I headed to his bedroom, but I looked over my shoulder to see that he had his daughter in his arms, and he was walking swiftly my way as Tatiana’s body heaved.

  She was going to blow again.

  I started running.

  I hit his bedroom, went to the vanity in the bathroom where, in a drawer, I’d put my hair stuff, and grabbed a huge clip (one bonus of Buck not primping, I had plenty of space to move in, not only in the bathroom, but also in his closet and chest of drawers).

  Procuring this, I ran to the bathroom that separated Buck’s office from Tatiana’s bedroom and saw Gear standing outside looking in, arms crossed on his chest, an expression on his face that said both, “Gross,” and, “My sister’s an idiot.”

  I scooted by him and saw Buck standing in the bathroom in the same exact stance with the same exact expression on his face.

  I passed Buck and got to my knees beside Tatiana, trying to ignore the sound and smell. She had a hand clenched in her hair, but she hadn’t captured it all and her head was over the toilet.

  I gathered her hair, and she let me, her body heaving, her back bowing and contracting violently. I secured her hair in the clip and reached out to flush the toilet.

  I looked up at Buck. “Can you get me a big glass of cold water?”

  “She drinks it, she’ll puke it,” was Buck’s reply.

  “She’s got alcohol poisoning. We need to rehydrate her at the same time counteracting the alcohol. Please, get me a glass of cold water.”

  “Babe, it’s gonna come right back up and she won’t thank you,” Buck warned.

  “I don’t want her to thank me. I want her to get that garbage out of her system so she’ll feel well enough to sleep without her foot on the floor because the room’s spinning,” I shot back. “Now, can you please get me a glass of water?”

  Buck stared at me, scowling, but Gear offered, “I’ll get it.”

  “Thanks, Gear,” I called because he disappeared.

  I got up and walked to the bathroom closet. Opening it, I grabbed a washcloth and took it to the sink to wet it with cold water. As I did this, Tatiana spit into the toilet while alternately moaning.

  “I got this, Toots,” Buck declared, even though he hadn’t moved a muscle and was still standing there, arms crossed on his chest, face like thunder.

  I guessed
him “having this” was him letting his daughter live the nightmare of over-imbibing in order to teach her a lesson.

  I wet the washcloth and wrung it out.

  “Why don’t you clean up the floor by the door?” I suggested.

  “Oh no, babe.” He shook his head. “Only one’s cleanin’ the floor by the door is on her knees in front of the toilet.”

  This caused another hollow, echoing moan from the toilet area and then the sound of more vomit hitting water.

  I decided that Tatiana Hardy was likely not going to be excited at the prospect of enchiladas for a while.

  I swallowed down the bile that rose up my own throat then moved back to Tatiana, going down on my knees. I folded the washcloth and leaned in to press it against her forehead while I reached out with the other hand to flush again.

  I looked up at Buck and said quietly, “She’s sixteen, West. She’s going to do stuff like this.”

  “Yeah, and she’s gonna learn she shouldn’t do it too.”

  “I thought your motto was to live more,” I threw at him.

  “It is, but that don’t mean you live stupid, Clara. She’s sixteen, she’s dressed like a whore and she’s shitfaced. She didn’t have her brother with her, right now she could be in a world a’ hurt. I was sixteen once, and I had ears then like I do now. I heard the talk. So I know there are fuckwad boys who live for the opportunity she presented tonight. So, she learns the hard way, she doesn’t give them that fuckin’ opportunity.”

  Even as I could argue, at length, and correctly, that Tatiana should feel she could drink what she wanted and wear what she wanted whenever she wanted without any boy on this planet, any other one, in alternate dimensions or on parallel universes thinking it was their right to take such an “opportunity,” I didn’t have the time.

  But sadly, in this universe on this planet at this moment, I had to admit, he was right.

  “You’re right,” I whispered, and Buck just stared at me. Then I said, “But if you don’t clean up that mess out there, I will.”

  He opened his mouth to speak, and I stopped rubbing Tatiana’s back to lift my hand, palm out, in his direction.

  “I get it. Again, you’re right. Definitely right. Though only about the underage drinking and not being particularly smart in just how much she partook of that. But the shape she’s in, that punishment doesn’t fit the crime and she won’t be much better tomorrow. You leave it until then with that mess out there all night, tomorrow morning, we’ll all be punished.”