Inciting a Riot

by Karen Renee

  Alex nodded at me, but Roxanne launched in, “I had a sit-down with HR yesterday, but they claim not to know how to proceed until Stillman makes an allegation.”

  Alex nodded again. “Sounds like HR. I’m more concerned if he goes to HUD or another Fair Housing government agency. We’ve got control of what happens here, but regulatory agencies will turn this into a cluster. Bottom line, Frankie, I need you to send us a detailed time-line of your interactions with him. He does not have a loan with us, correct?”

  “Certainly not through me, though he does have some kind of account here. I assume checking and the like, but it could easily be something else.”

  Alex blew out a sigh. “Hate to say it, but I am gonna run this up the flagpole.”

  Roxanne looked between the two of us. “Did you get the contact info for Emily’s friend?”

  I looked to her, “Not yet, it’s the next thing on my agenda.”

  “Emily’s friend?” Alex asked.

  I informed him about the sister and her friend who witnessed my assault.

  Alex shook his head, “Frankie, when you get problems, you really manage to get some problems.”

  I wanted to respond with, ‘Tell me about it,’ but I kept my trap shut, because I didn’t think it was the most professional response.

  I was saved by Roxanne, though, as she stood up and said, “On that note, we’ll let you get back to it, Alex. Thank you for your time.”

  CHAPTER 8

  I could not find the legal pad with Emily Yates’s contact information.

  In between getting comps and other necessary documents to underwriting for my loans-in-progress, I upended my messenger bag like a crazy woman. In fact, I was accused by my coworkers in neighboring cubes of losing my mind. Then I emptied my day-planner of all scraps of paper, receipts, and sticky notes. No yellow legal pad paper. I was heaving sighs left and right, which was exacerbating the pain in my ribs. I put everything back in the day-planner and my messenger bag.

  Sitting back in my chair, I realized the only place I had not looked was my purse. The problem was, I knew I had not put that piece of paper in my purse. I got out my purse and searched it, anyway.

  As I was rooting around in my bag, my cell phone buzzed with a text.

  Henry: In the parking lot.

  I looked at the time on my phone and realized it was six-fifteen. Where had the afternoon gone? I still needed to return Reggie’s voicemail, but figured I’d do that at home.

  I had once read that if you couldn’t find something, you should stop looking for it. It sounded crazy then, and it still sounded crazy to me now, but there was absolutely no doubt that I was going crazy looking for that scrap of paper. With that thought, I powered down my computer, and called it a day.

  I hurried up to Henry on his bike. “Sorry I didn’t text you back. I figured it would be quicker to just come out here.”

  He gave me a chin-lift, and asked, “You need to stop off on the way for anything?”

  I thought about it, and said, “Thanks for asking, you reminded me that I most definitely need to stop off at the supermarket for some wine and whatever I’m going to eat for dinner tonight.”

  “Got it. I’ll stay close, but if I get cut off or anything, do not leave your vehicle once you park. I’ll catch up to you. Do not go into the store alone. Even if it is a public place, that doesn’t necessarily make it safe for you.”

  An hour later, Volt helped me bring in my groceries. I invited him to eat some dinner with me, but apparently he and Jackie had an early dinner so he declined. I offered him a beer, which was accepted. He hung around for a bit to shoot the breeze with me while I plated up some fried chicken, potato salad, and baked beans from the supermarket deli. I turned on my TV and we watched some mindless sitcom repeats while I ate. I put the extra food away and offered Henry another beer, but he decided on a glass of water instead.

  “If you don’t mind, I’m gonna take a bath and listen to my i-Pod. Sorry if that’s rude of me with you here, but it’s been a long-ass day and an Epsom salt bath should help my ribs. I feel like any more ibuprofen is going to eat at my stomach.”

  “Do your thing, Lo-lo. I’m gonna catch Sports Center. You’re not being rude at all.”

  I poured a generous glass of Pinot Grigio and went to my bathroom. After I put the wine glass on the ledge of my garden tub, I gathered my pajamas, my i-Pod, and my noise-canceling headphones. I found a plastic grocery bag to wrap over my cast while the water filled. When the tub was full of sudsy goodness, I cued up a playlist with my top-rated songs and settled in to relax and hopefully help my achy ribs feel better. “Cut Here” by The Cure came on, and I had forgotten how much I loved that song. Robert Smith’s deep voice lamenting meeting a former love again after three years suddenly made me realize the song was very appropriate for me and Vamp.

  The song also put Roll’s earlier words to me in firm perspective. Even though the song is upbeat in tempo and tone, it had a very melancholy message: regret about not making the time for that person from the past, not stopping to think about the chance encounter. I remembered Vamp saying he was pacing outside the Cheesecake Factory and finally decided to come in and get the answer to why I was going by ‘Frankie’. I probably should have talked a while with him that day. I realized the bitterness I held on to like a blanket was making me hardened. It would have been good if I had taken the time to talk with him that day.

  I felt tears streaming down my face as I thought about how maybe I should give Cary the benefit of the doubt. If I hadn’t seen Bradley with another woman at the engagement counter, I would have likely left the store long before Cal and Vamp arrived and we would have never run into one another. I took a deep breath and listened to the song over again.

  I was a minute into my second listen of the song, when I saw something khaki out of the corner of my eye. An immediate flashback to Mark Stillman’s attack hit me and I jolted in the bathtub and scooted my body as far into the corner of the tub as I could. Suddenly, I saw Vamp’s face, because he was crouched low in front of me. I was breathing hard, and he removed my headphones and then I could hear myself saying, “No, no, no, no,” in a terrified, low voice. Looking into Vamp’s concerned eyes, I took a deep breath and managed to calm myself. Then I remembered where I was, and that I was naked, so I looked down, to see there were still plenty of suds covering me. I also had managed not to submerge my casted hand into the water during my attempt to get away.

  After I blew out another deep breath, Vamp said, “Shit, honey. I didn’t mean to freak you so bad.”

  I slunk back down into the tub because while there were suds on me, I could feel them sliding rapidly back to the tub. Then I said, “No, no, don’t worry about it. Oh, God. What are you doing here? I thought Henry was on the case for tonight.”

  He shook his head slightly and with an almost impish grin he said, “Told you. I watch you at night. It’s just tonight I got in late, so Volt helped me out.”

  I nodded, but said, “Ok. Well, there’s fried chicken and potato salad if you haven’t eaten. So, um, help yourself.”

  I thought that would get him to leave, but instead, his hand still holding my headphones slipped them on his head. As he listened to the song that was still playing, a slow grin came to his face.

  “Excellent song, babe. Forgot how much you loved The Cure.” He listened some more and then remarked, “Know exactly what he’s talkin’ about too. Except, for us it’s not ‘too late,’ and it’s not over between us. No matter what you tell me, or what you might tell yourself, baby. Now, relax and take your time.”

  Vamp stood up, and I saw he was wearing khaki colored cargo pants. He handed me back my headphones and after he left me alone, I slipped them back on my head. I toggled through my iPod options and selected my instrumental play-list. At least then I wouldn’t find myself thinking about the past, or so I hoped. I had more of my wine and laid my head back and closed my eyes.

  Turned out the instrumental music di
dn't help me to relax nor did it prevent me from thinking about Vamp. Even though he was clearly concerned about my reaction to his sudden presence in the bathroom, I could also tell he was angry about it. He definitely cared about me, I had to give him that. Then, part of me figured we would always care about one another, but that didn’t mean I should give in to a second chance. My bath was not relaxing me at all, so I drained the last of my wine. I pulled the plug on the tub and carefully stepped out of the bath.

  I was determined to put my pajamas on without help. It was one thing to take help the first few days after the attack, but I was going to be saddled with this cast for another five to six weeks. Pajamas weren’t difficult since there was no bra to contend with; I threaded my arms into the sleeves of a large nightshirt instead of my camisole and Jaguar boxers. I was running a comb through my long dark hair when Vamp opened the door to the bathroom.

  “Uh, knocking. Have you heard of it?”

  Vamp leaned his right hip against the edge of the counter, “Heard of it, but you should know better. Biker way, baby. We do what we want, not what’s expected of us.”

  I shook my head at him, and put my comb back in a drawer. I turned to exit the bathroom, but Vamp grabbed my hips.

  “You have any trouble gettin’ dressed?”

  I shook my head.

  “Gonna let me help you in the morning?”

  My shrug at him was noncommittal.

  He gave me a quick eyebrow arch, “You do know why I didn’t knock?”

  “Thought it was the biker way?”

  His lips spread into a devilish grin.

  “There’s that, but I also stand no chance of catching you naked or half-naked if I knock on the door.”

  With that, I knocked his hands off my hips and made my way to the bedroom to drop off my dirty clothes. Vamp went back out to the living room and turned off the TV and started turning off lights. I brushed my teeth and then turned to get my wine glass from the tub, but it wasn’t there. I heard the kitchen faucet running, so I figured Vamp was rinsing it out for me. That was not something he did six years ago. I told myself not to dwell on that kind of thing, finished up my bathroom business, and then got into bed.

  *** ***

  A harsh voice was yelling at me, while I lay on the ground. I was trying to curl into a protective ball, but I couldn’t move my hand off the sidewalk. I couldn’t open my mouth to cry out. All I could see were neatly folded cuffs at the end of khaki pants and brown wing-tip shoes. The shoes struck out to kick me, but since I couldn’t curl up on myself, the shoes caught me in the stomach.

  “You’re going to call them off, bitch. Do you get me? It’s not over, Frankie. Whenever I want, you’re going to take care of me. Or else.”

  The brown shoe was lifting up in the air, but suddenly a bright light was shining into my eyes. I awoke from the nightmare and winced at the light. I could hear Vamp calling my name, but he was calling out ‘Lorraine’ in a stern voice. I sat up and saw Vamp was standing and rounding the bed to come to my side of it.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  His look was stunned. “What’s going on? You’re over here trying to curl into yourself and half-screaming ‘No. No. Please, no.’ You sit right up and ask what’s going on? You have to be shittin’ me.”

  I sighed, “I’m not shitting you. I know I had a nightmare, but why didn’t you just nudge me?”

  “Tried that, babe. You were impervious. I touched you and you just curled tighter,” Vamp said as he sat down and wrapped his bulky arms around me.

  “Christ, Rainey, you’re shakin’. What the fuck?”

  I sighed again and let Vamp hold me because it was calming me down, not that I was going to tell him that. He stroked my hair and started dropping random kisses on my head, forehead and cheeks. At that point I burst into tears; I could not have stopped it if I tried. I didn’t know what had snapped inside, but something broke and the floodgates were opened. It also suddenly hit me that I hadn't even done that with Reg and Tucker after the attack. It made me wonder why I felt secure enough to break down around Vamp.

  When I finally calmed down after my very ugly crying jag, Vamp rearranged us on my bed. He snuggled up to me on his side and propped his head up on his hand. He looked at me for several long moments, and then he gave my lips a quick peck.

  “I owe you an apology, Frankie.”

  I shook my head, “What for?”

  “Being such a colossal dick way back when. I really shouldn’t have done it. So young and tempted by the idea of a threesome. I knew certain ones only went for new patches. After you, I may have had quantity but not a damn one of them was you. I knew it was the wrong thing to do, and I didn’t just shit on you. I supremely shat on you.”

  “‘Shat’? As in the British? Since when do you do British?”

  He grinned, “Back when I was in the Corps. Ricks and I had leave. We went to Paris. Next day took the Chunnel to London. Met some blokes and other people at a pub. Educated us in some of the finer nuances between their English and our English.”

  I did not know that, obviously, but I also did not know that Vamp and Ricks had been so chummy. Way back when, he’d awaken from some nightmares saying, “Ricks, no, not Ricks.” No wonder he had such a deep sense of survivor’s guilt and remorse.

  After a deep breath, Vamp said, “I’m sorry for causing your nightmare tonight, Rainey.”

  Not thinking much, I said, “No, no. It was most likely the voicemail he left me today.”

  Vamp’s frame went rigid and the air in the room was tense, to say the least. Then I realized I had not told anyone with Riot about the voicemail message.

  It was too late to bother his brothers with actual phone calls, but Vamp sent texts to the officers in the club and Roll as well. He turned out the lights and laid down with me. He tucked me right to his side. I figured he would lay there fuming beside me, but somehow he managed to drift off to sleep within what seemed like five minutes.

  Try as I might, I could not get to sleep. As Vamp fell deeper into slumber, I felt his hold on my waist loosen. Knowing there was no use just laying there next to him, I quietly exited the bed. I went to the kitchen, grabbed a teacup and made a cup of herbal tea. I took my tea out to the patio. Sometimes, depending on the direction of the wind, I could sit on my patio and faintly hear the waves falling at the beach. As I sat on the patio, I decided tomorrow (well, later that morning) I would play hooky from work. Then I could at least get a decent nap mid-morning, or definitely in the afternoon. Then I just needed to pray that Mark Stillman didn’t come lurking around or knocking on my door.

  Suddenly I heard a muffled voice from inside my house. It was Vamp calling my name. He slid the sliding glass door open with such force, I was amazed it didn’t crack or come off the track.

  Standing in the doorway wearing nothing but black boxer briefs, Vamp said, “Jesus, Frankie! You scared the hell out of me. What in the hell are you doing out here?”

  I gave him a small smile. “I’m sorry. I could not sleep no matter how much I tried, and you drifted off almost immediately. I didn’t want to disturb that. Anyway, I decided I’m not going into work today.”

  As I said all of that, Vamp’s expression went from anxious, to relieved, and then to what appeared to be extremely pleased. I couldn’t imagine why he’d be extremely pleased about me skipping out on work. Then my exhausted brain remembered I was talking to Vamp, and I realized playing hooky might be the worst thing I could do.

  Before I could say anything Vamp said, “Best damn news I’ve heard. Tomorrow, you’re on my bike with me.”

  Oh hell. I wanted that. I wanted that so much. However, there was no way I could get on the back of a bike with him again. Being on the back of his bike provoked feelings in me that were equivalent to kissing him for an hour. I was barely keeping my wits about me when he kissed me, and he’d only done it four times so far. No doubt I would lose all control if I took even a ten-minute ride to Starbuck’s with hi
m.

  I shook my head. “No, Vamp. I’m aiming for a mid-morning nap, or an afternoon nap for sure, and getting a boatload of laundry done in the hours in between.”

  Vamp came and sat in the Adirondack chair next to mine. He had a smirk on his face that did not bode well for whatever he was going to say to me.

  “Wasn’t on club business yesterday.”

  That was out of left field, but at the same time what did I care? “Oh-beh-kay-bee. Thanks for that info.”

  He shook his head with two short shakes, “No, baby. I was in Daytona, ’cause my Pop is gettin’ hitched. Had to meet my soon-to-be step-mom’s family and shit. Would have stayed down there, but I’m takin’ care of you at night. Today, I gotta go to a reception-slash-rehearsal dinner and crap. Been gettin’ all manner of shit about whether I’d have a date. Come with me. Pop would love to see you again.”

  Oh, fuckin’ double hell. I loved Cary’s dad. Sorry, but Mr. Sullivan was not the father of Vamp, he was Cary’s dad. No two ways around that shit. Much like his son, Mr. Sullivan was a flirt of the first order. I had never understood why he never remarried. His charm was unparalleled, even by his eldest son's, and that was saying something. Vamp had his blue eyes, but oddly, Vamp’s dad still had a full shock of grey hair. Though I supposed, in the past six years, that shock of hair might now be a silvery-white. Talk about a one-two punch; I could get the thrill of riding on the back of a bike and get to see Mr. Sullivan again. I missed both being in my life, but then Vamp’s words on the phone came back to me. ‘I’m not playin’. I’m fighting, and nothin’ about the ways I fight are fair.’ He was dead serious when he said that to me, I just didn’t know why I didn’t realize it at the time.

  Shaking my head, I said, “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not? You’re dying to get on the back of a bike. Not only can I see it on your face, but I clocked you in the parking lot at Dick’s Wings Monday night, before you came inside. Didn’t realize it was you because of the cast and the shiner. Never occurred to me that you would have gotten into that kind of trouble. Anyway, I know a woman who wants on a man’s bike when I see one. C’mon, an hour’s ride this afternoon, and then you’ll get to see my pop and my brothers again.”