by Keary Taylor
“That’s all that matters sometimes,” Lake says as he leans against his own set of wheels and crosses his ankles, doing the same with his arms. “Sometimes moments are all you get, so you’ve got to appreciate them.”
While he takes in the sunset, I take the opportunity to study him.
Casual, wrinkled jeans cover his strong legs. His thighs are thick and well-muscled, just like the rest of him. There are two veins in each of his arms that stand out, straining against his skin. His jaw clenches and unclenches as he thinks about something. He blinks, slow and thoughtful.
There are depths to Lake that I don’t know if I’ll ever understand. He’s layered and dark, and he tries to seem shallow and simple. But he isn’t. There are things under his surface that matter.
“Been a while since I did that,” I respond. “Appreciate the small, good moments.” I shift my weight, looking down at my boots for a moment. “Thank you. For this.”
“You’re welcome.”
The sun sinks, the sky growing darker and darker. The stars burn through the light of day, winking into view.
The silence between us grows long, but it isn’t uncomfortable. When you go through loss in your life, it’s hard for others to understand. You grow complicated, complicated enough you don’t even really understand yourself. But somehow, I think that Lake understands what it’s like.
“Do you ever feel like you’re in a constant state of drowning?” I ask. My voice cuts through the silence. It’s a flat silence out here, all the sound waves eaten up by the span of the land and the air that keeps us humans alive. “Like you’re always floating just under the surface?”
I don’t look at him, and I’m pretty sure Lake doesn’t look at me. “Every day,” he confesses.
I nod. I thought so. We’ve both been touched with loss, and loss stains you for forever. “Do you ever get tired of feeling like that?”
“Every second.”
I nod again. “Me too.”
CHAPTER TEN
I end up playing phone tag with Mom all of Friday. I call her in the morning, get her voicemail. She calls me back while I’m in the barn and my phone is inside. Repeat four times.
On Saturday, Lake and I work on cleaning out the garage. Organizing things, pressure washing the floors. He changes the oil on my truck, and I go on the hunt through Mom’s office for evidence of our financial downfall.
I’m digging through a drawer marked Bills when my cell rings.
“Mom,” I say, pinning the phone between my ear and shoulder. “Finally caught you.”
“Sorry,” she replies, sounding slightly nervous. “I was with Lynda at doctor appointments all day yesterday and had to turn my phone off for most of the day.”
“How’s she doing?” I pull out some utility bills and start scanning them. Nothing seems out of the ordinary.
“Alright. She’s really tired and that’s driving her crazy. She doesn’t like taking things easy.”
“Doctors say if there was a physical reason she had the heart attack?” I ask as I put the utility bills back.
“They said sometimes it just runs in families,” she says, her voice shaking slightly. “Sometimes you’re just predisposed.”
“I’ve heard that.” I pull open another drawer. It’s stuffed with papers. It’s overwhelming to look at. I lean back in the desk chair and take my phone in my hand. “So, I need to talk to you about something.”
It takes Mom a second to respond. I hear her sniff. “I know.”
“I opened the mortgage statement,” I say. “There was a bunch of mail and it looked like some of them were bills, so I thought I’d better go through them. Mom, it said we were months behind on our payments.”
Again, it takes her a few moments to answer me. “I know. Things have been…have been a little tight lately.”
I close my eyes and press a finger and thumb into them. “Is there something going on that you haven’t told me about?”
She sniffs. I hear her rustling on the other end. Like she’s running a hand through her hair, or fiddling with the hem of her shirt.
“Mom, what is it?”
“Oh, Honey, I never wanted to have to tell you this,” she says. Emotion weighs heavy in her voice. “I just…”
“Just say it,” I demand impatiently.
“Okay,” she says with a sigh. “A week after Cal was killed, I answered the phone. No one answered, but I could hear breathing. It didn’t take me more than five seconds to figure out who it was.”
“Shit,” I breathe, rubbing at my temple.
“Language,” Mom says absentmindedly. “Anyway, I told him to stop bothering you, that I’d call the cops. Riley, he threatened you. Said if I did call the police that he’d hurt you. It scared me to death.” She takes a moment and I can imagine her wiping tears away. “So I asked him what it would take to make him leave you alone. You had just lost Cal, and I knew you couldn’t handle him bothering you again. He wanted money.”
“You paid him off,” I say. I’m a war of emotions on the inside. Anger, pity, appreciation. They’re all fighting for control.
“I paid him off,” Mom confirms with a sigh. “It wasn’t too much at first, but he kept asking for more and more, and saying if I didn’t pay, he’d do something to you.”
“I could have handled myself, Mom,” I say with a slight crack of emotion in my voice. “And no matter the threats, you should have called the police.”
“Do you think there is any chance that I was going to risk it?” she says, her voice shrill. “Your father is gone, and you may be an adult, but you’re still my baby girl.”
My body sags and I let my eyes slide closed. “I know. So how long ago did you stop paying him?”
There’s a beat before she answers, and when she does, her voice is hard. “Just a few days before Lake showed up. Honey, there’s a reason I was so eager to hire him, even if we couldn’t really afford his help, but knowing nothing about him other than that he’s a Marine.”
“You wanted someone who could handle himself close by,” I clarify.
“I feel safer knowing he’s there.”
I swear, my thoughts going back to the financial disaster at hand. “Why didn’t you tell me about this? We’re about to lose the ranch, Mom. You’ve got to remember that I am an adult.”
“I know,” Mom says, sniffing, her voice cracking.
“So we have three weeks before they start getting ready to kick us out of here?” I say. There’s something wrong with my stomach. Like it’s either not there, or filled with the weight of the earth.
I hear Mom sigh quietly on the other line. She shifts, like she’s either standing up or sitting down. “I didn’t want to have to tell you this either, but it sounds like we don’t have much choice right now. About two months ago, I was approached by a housing developer. He’s interested in the ranch. Well, more than interested. He made me a very generous offer.”
“A developer?” I say. My eyes go out to the window that overlooks the pasture. “Like they want to turn the ranch into houses?”
“Afraid so,” Mom says. “He’s willing to keep the barn intact and one of the arenas. But he wants to put in about twenty homes and turn it into a little country community.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head, my voice hard. “No. I can’t let anyone do that. This is our ranch. This is my home and my land. I’m not letting anyone come in here and fill it up with people who don’t give a damn about it.”
“Honey,” Mom says. Emotion is showing in her voice again and it’s rising an octave. “I know this is difficult. No one wants this and it is killing me, knowing what this would do to your dad if he ever knew, but I don’t know what else to do.”
“You could have told me about this earlier,” I say, my voice angry. “I could have helped you. We could have come up with a plan. And now you’re telling me it’s too late.” I hang my phone up and let it drop to the desk.
My face falls into my hands and angry tears well
in my eyes. My breaths come in harsh, quick bursts through my nose. Something wicked and hot rises up inside of me, and I whack the jar of pencils and pens off the desk. The glass shatters against the far wall.
My phone dings with a text message, and my eyes drop to it. It’s from Kyle.
Just a friendly reminder about tonight. Half of us are already here if you want to join.
My nostrils flare and my chest rises and falls quickly as my eyes stay locked on my phone long after the screen goes dark. Finally, my fingers close around it and I head up to my room.
I shower. I blow dry my hair for once, and curl it. I pull on a denim skirt and a red tank top that shows plenty. Lastly, I pull on my boots that are purely for looks.
When I get outside, I see Lake sitting on his little deck, a bottle of water in one hand.
“Where you off to?” he calls down, his brows drawn together behind his sunglasses.
“To get really, really wasted,” I say, my voice sharp with more emotion than I’d like. “And to forget all the shit that is reality.”
I open the garage and start digging through my purse for keys. I hear Lake’s booted feet clomp down the stairs quickly. They crunch the gravel as he crosses to the garage just as I get into the cab of the truck. The engine roars when I start it, and Lake slips into the passenger seat.
“I don’t need a babysitter,” I say, even as I start backing out.
“Okay,” he says simply. He looks out the window, the scenery reflecting off his aviators.
It isn’t a long drive, seven or so minutes. Smitty’s is near the middle of town. I park along the curb and climb out. The sky is dimming, the hour stretching toward seven-thirty. The air is cool and fresh, causing goose bumps to flash over my skin. As I approach the door, I can hear the music pounding.
Lake holds the door open for me, and not meeting his eyes, I walk inside.
There are only about fifteen people inside. And I recognize them all. There are five of them at the bar who are older locals. There’s Kent, who owns the hardware store. And then nine people I knew well, all from Cedarcrest High School, right here in Duvall.
“Riley!” Miranda calls, holding her beer up and smiling brightly. “We didn’t think you were going to come!”
“I had a change of heart,” I say. I order a beer for myself and walk over to the long table that’s been set up along one side of the building. There’s Anita, and Miranda, and Julianna. There’s Tom, and Dale, and Kelton. There’s one other guy I’m having trouble remembering the name of. And Kyle, down at the end. He tips his beer at me and takes a sip.
I try to discreetly take a look over my shoulder to see what Lake’s doing. He’s sat at a table by himself. Stacia, the waitress that’s worked here for forever, sets a beer on his table before crossing to ours. She gives me my beer and brings a few others for us all.
The conversations keep up around me. Julianna turns to me, leaning in close so I can hear.
“Is that your new guy?” she asks, a smile curling on her face. “He’s certainly something to look at.”
I take another look back at Lake, catching his eyes. His expression is blank and intense. As it is most of the time.
“He’s not mine,” I say, looking away. “Just the hired help.”
But her last statement hangs on my mind. Is Lake something to look at? I guess he does have that rugged look so many girls appreciate. Five o’clock shadow that’s ever present. A scar on his left cheek. Serious eyes. Messy—yet not—hair. Lips that always look just the tiniest bit pursed.
“Too bad,” she says, looking back at Lake once again. “He looks like he can handle himself, if you know what I mean.”
“Did you forget you’re married?” I ask her, annoyance in my voice. I take a hard pull at my drink.
“I may be married, but I am not dead,” she says. She reaches out, patting Dale on the back. He flashes her a brief smile before turning back to his conversation with the guys.
Anita looks at me with a bit more sympathy. She’s always been understanding. When I meet her eyes, I can see it there. She hasn’t forgotten Cal so quickly.
Everyone laughs. They talk. They share old stories from the “glory days.” I burn through four beers pretty quickly. Shoot in a story every so often about bonfires we’d have out at the ranch.
One hour here becomes two and rolls toward three.
My insides feel warm. My body loosens up. I don’t feel so wound hard and tight. I’ve been feeling that way for too damn long. The room feels fun and full of energy.
Why didn’t I want to come in the beginning?
The clock hits ten o’clock and a bell suddenly rings. A disco ball lights up from the ceiling as everyone cheers and a spotlight turns on to Bessie.
Bessie, the ancient mechanical bull.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the hour has arrived. Everyone who wishes to challenge Bessie is invited to climb aboard,” Stacia’s voice echoes throughout the building. “Just remember, we’re not liable for any injuries. So show us what you’ve got and have a good time!”
The crowd cheers again and the music cranks up. It’s generally a rock or country song, rambunctious and energetic. And usually overly sexual.
“Who’s first?” Kyle says loudly. “I’ve got ten bucks that says nobody can stay on longer than my ten seconds.”
“You can’t make a statement like that!” Tom goads him. “You haven’t even ridden tonight.”
“Is that a challenge?” Kyle says, looking up at him, dark and dangerous and drunk.
“Just get on the damn bull,” Tom says with a laugh.
We all cheer as Kyle gets up and crosses over to Bessie. He straddles her and signals to Bennett, the owner of Smitty’s and the guy who always works the machine.
Bessie jerks back and forth, up and down. Kyle holds onto the strap with one hand, his other waving and jerking through the air. He whoops and hollers as he fights to stay on. The clock on the control machine reaches ten seconds, and the next second, he gets thrown off onto the mat.
“Yeah, baby!” he cheers as he climbs to his feet. He pumps his fists, spit flying through the air, illuminated by the spotlight. “Eleven seconds!”
Tom can’t back down now. He climbs onto the bull, just as Stacia brings me my fifth beer.
I should stop soon. But for once, I feel relaxed.
Tom lasts nine seconds. And has to cough up the ten dollars.
Dale refuses to ride, saying something about saving his balls to make children. None of the other guys want to ride.
“Julianna? Riley?” Kyle calls. He stands, walking in our direction, beer in hand. “I know both of you are bad ass enough to take on Bessie.”
“I, kind of, can’t,” Julianna says, biting her lip.
“Why not?” I call, loud and obnoxious. The alcohol has well taken its hold. “You chicken?”
Julianna shakes her head, a smile curling on her face. “Guess this is where we make the announcement. Dale and I are expecting!”
“What?” someone calls out. “Congrats!” another shouts. I hug her, tight, laughing and congratulating her, right in her face, despite my bad beer breath.
“I was wondering why you’ve been drinking just water all night,” Anita says with a wink.
“Thanks everyone,” Julianna says with a laugh. “But, I do think we all want to see Riley ride.”
“Yeah!” the men cheer, raising their beers at me.
Cold air gusts into the bar as the door opens. I turn and see a group of four guys walk in. They’re the midlife crises kind, dressed in black leather motorcycle gear, long ponytails, scruffy beards. They take a look around the bar before sitting at the counter.
One in particular—the one who looks youngest and least scruffy, locks eyes with me. A smile curls behind that beard.
Ignoring his leer, I take one last sip of my beer before setting it on the table. As soon as I stand from my seat, my group cheers. As I walk to Bessie, I catch Lake’s eyes. And maybe it’s just
the alcohol making me see things that aren’t real, but I swear there’s a hint of concern there.
The song switches and starts singing about having one shot and feeling better, two shots and being on a roll, and doing unspeakable things by the third.
I swing my leg across the bull and my denim skirt bunches up around my panties. Hadn’t thought about that.
But what the hell?
The crowd cheers as I wrap the strap around my hand, holding my other up in the air. I smile and laugh as my friends clap and point with smiles. And the countdown begins.
Bessie jerks hard forward, and then backwards. I don’t feel as balanced as I should, considering what I do for a living. But then again, I have had five beers tonight. With a hard jerk to the side, I nearly loose it.
And then Bessie makes a weird sound. A grinding and a hissing. And then she’s moving in slow motion.
I can only imagine how it must look. Bessie slowly going through the bucking motions, me sitting atop her. My thighs pretty much all exposed. My breasts bouncing up and down under my revealing top. Hair whipping around.
It’s easy to see it’s a turn on from the reaction of pretty much every guy in the building.
They whoop and holler and whistle.
“Sorry, ladies and gentlemen,” Bennett says from the controls. Bessie stops. “Guess that’s all the bull can take tonight.”
The men inside boo, loud and rambunctious. I laugh as I climb off, pulling my skirt to its rightful place. Tom blows me a kiss and Kyle winks at me. My eyes meet Lake’s for just a moment, and there is no mistaking the emotion there right now.
He’s angry.
“Can I buy you another drink?”
Suddenly the biker guy who looked at me long and hard before is standing in front of me, looking every surface of my body up and down.
“I’d like to get to know any woman who can break a bull,” he says. His tight pants are bulging and he’s standing way closer than I want him to be.
“I don’t think so,” I say with a shake of my head, taking a step back toward my table.
“Come on, Honey.” He grabs my arm.
I react on instinct. My fist balls, and I swing.