by F. G. Adams
“You’re in way over your head, kid.”
“Can’t deny it. But that doesn’t change a thing for me.”
“Then trust me. Let me help.”
“Why are you so worried about me? What’s in it for you?”
I brace my palms on the top of the table and lean in his direction, speaking in a low voice because I don’t want anyone to overhear. “It’s not about me, you dumbass fucktard. It’s about what your so-called clients are doing. The devastation and destruction they are causing along the way isn’t a pretty picture. Do you even know what you are supplying?”
He shakes his head slowly left to right.
“That’s what I thought. You really should take a closer look and then come find me. Hopefully, I will still be in a position to help you out. But don’t wait too long.”
“Why won’t you tell me if you know so much?”
“Because you wouldn’t believe me if I did. Follow your own trail, Gunner. You need answers.”
He’s startled at my statement and opens his mouth with a retort. Out of the blue, lightning cracks and thunder booms somewhere very close. The lights in the huge room flicker on and off, and the televisions that were announcing Hurricane Georgia’s arrival grow silent. A hush falls over the people gathered in anticipation of what will happen next. Grady strides through the entrance of the large room and maneuvers his way to the bar in the corner where Kendall is standing. He reaches for the remote she is offering and the room fills with weather updates.
An edge lifts when he announces to the room, “Georgia’s about to knock on our door, folks. We’ve weathered rougher storms. We’re ready.”
Thirty minutes later, I’ve managed to wash away all the coldness that had seeped deep into my bones. I’m feeling normal again.
Normal. I’m not even sure what that means. I’ve never had the typical normal life. Yes, I come from a wealthy family, pillars of the community, but with hidden secrets of shame and abuse. Appearances on the outside can be very deceiving.
Most people look at a distance and think the Blackwood family is amazing. Perfect, even. They envy us from afar, aside from the scandal that went down with Fallyn, which was easy enough for the infamous Harold Blackwood V to sweep under the rug. And now it’s as if it hadn’t happened or she didn’t ever exist, which cuts me deeply. Only those closest to the family know the truth, and those people are very few.
Katrina is one of the privileged. Well, I shouldn’t call it a privilege, not really. I wouldn’t say knowing about the Blackwood family drama and wrongdoings is any kind of benefit. She’s always been easy to talk to and Lord knows I’ve needed a friend all these years.
She and I have so much in common. We both come from a large family, we’re second in line in the sibling department and her grandmother, the matriarch of her family, is one of the most important people in her life, just like me.
However, where Katrina comes from a similar background, the abuse is not an issue in her family. According to what I’ve witnessed, her family is the genuine article, a family that loves without abandon and judgment. You can actually see it in their faces by the way they express their emotions through touch and kind, gentle words. Although her dad rules the family with stern constitution, always expecting greatness, there is a loving temperament in which anyone can feel radiating, surrounding the family like a tangible being.
That’s very different from my own. I grew up in a world where as long as you follow the rules, walk the straight and narrow line, or in other words do whatever my father deemed appropriate, you are accepted by him. Well, most of the time, anyway.
Sometimes even that wasn't enough. There was and always is a motive behind his actions. “You do this and I’ll give you this or let you do this” was the common theme. A continuous vicious cycle which he will never break. In detaching myself from him and leaving Lakeview, I’m breaking the cycle.
I have vowed never to kowtow to anyone ever again.
When I was a little girl, I wanted a family of my own one day. It was a little girl’s dream of happiness. Fallyn, Sage, and I would play house with our baby dolls for hours and hours. Well it seemed like hours for a small child. At the time, we were all innocent to what the world truly held for us. Not to mention the power and poison our father embodied. However, some things will never change, and I’m not sure now if my dream can ever come true.
I won’t be a doormat like my momma was.
Maybe one day I will find someone to love me completely, to see the real me and love her, not just some idea of who I need to be or what they expect me to be. A partner in all things, an equal. I’m not giving up hope yet, because anything is possible if you just believe it, just like Keagan always told me.
After my shower, I dry my hair and pull my bangs back away from my face with a rose petal hair clip. Clean face, clean clothes, and nothing wet. I’m revived and ready for anything.
I’ve changed into a pair of medium washed skinny jeans and a light pink ocean inspired patterned tank top, along with my pink cowgirl boots. The boots are a lot like the ones I had when I was younger. They ground me.
Katrina has changed into similar attire, lying sprawled out on the bed and watching the news. Plastered across the nineteen-inch screen is Hurricane Georgia. The newscaster and weatherman are discussing the path and landfall points.
The lights flicker and then go off. We sit in the dark. Nothing but our breathing is heard.
“You okay, Rina?”
“Sí. Didn’t the guy say they had generators?”
“Yep. Let’s hope they get them going soon.”
Within a few seconds, the lights stream back to life.
“Whew, that was a bit unsettling.”
“No doubt. Georgia’s slowed down, chica, and gaining strength. They say it’s basically standing still and going to move slowly for now.”
“Seriously? That doesn’t suck at all. Ugh!”
“True. I think we are here for a while. Might as well make the best of it. Sí?”
“Agreed.” Sighing, I sit down at the foot of the bed. I clasp my hands tightly, then release, clasp, release.
“What, amiga? Are you okay? I mean from earlier, during your siesta. It seemed to bother you. You were mumbling incoherently and the only word I understood you to say was ‘Fallyn’. Her name, you murmured over and over. Are you still having bad dreams, Jo? You know we can talk about it,” she urges. “I’m always here for you, mi amiga. Have you heard anything? Still nada?” Concern laced her voice.
I shook my head back and forth.
“Nope, nothing. And I continue getting those unknown number calls like before. I still always answer, too, without question. When I say ‘Hello, this is Jocelyn’ I get zip, zilch, or nothing but static on the other line. I try to say hello a few more times. Hold my breath. Hoping and wishing, ya know?”
“Ah, Jo. I know that can be very frustrating for you. Mi pobre amiga.”
“Yep, very depressing. I always hang up the phone feeling frustrated every single time. Like I’ve told you before, I’ve been receiving these weird phone calls for a while now. They started not too long after my graduation from college. It’s always the same, too. Unknown number. Sometimes I can faintly hear someone breathing on the other end of the line. Other times it’s just static. I keep wondering if it’s the signal I’ve been waiting on? The ‘everything’s gonna be alright’ code? You know, what she used to say when we were little. Is she trying to reach out to me? In my heart of hearts I want to believe it’s her. I want to believe it’s Fallyn. I wish I could tell her how much I care about her and miss her most in my life.”
I wipe away a stray tear. I hadn’t even realize I was crying. The mind is a tricky organ. It’s the supreme ruler of the body, even when the heart longs to go in a different direction. The strange thing is if your mind believes it, your heart will follow. It has to. I guess that’s the reason I have the feeling it’s her. It has to be her.
“I can’t even i
magine what you’re going through, niña. I would be devastated if something happened to one of mi familia. Or if I couldn’t talk to one of them whenever I wanted to. But one day, mi amiga. One day everything will be alright.”
Katrina moved to sit beside me on the bed. Grabbing my hand and squeezing, she smiles at me after using Fallyn’s words. No, it’s not my sister sitting beside me making everything better. Although if I had to have one person by my side right now other than Fallyn, I would pick Katrina. She always seems to know just what to say.
“Thanks, Rina. Ya know, I’ve often thought about how chance brought us together and I’m so glad that we became friends. Because when it hurts to look back and I’m too scared to look ahead, it’s nice to know I have someone in my corner. You’re the best, mi amiga.” I use her favorite phrase, letting her know how much her kind words and love mean to me. She hugs me hard, like she always does, grounding me again to the present.
Katrina releases me and leans back on her hands, watching the television again. We don’t dwell; we just move on.
“Oh, by the way, that shower really rocked my world, Rina. It’s exactly what I needed.”
“I told you it would be increíble. Much better being wet naked than wet with clothes on. Sì? Hey, you’re looking good, Jo. I love the way you’re rocking those boots. Like a boss,” she snickers. “You ready to go?”
“Thanks. Not too shabby yourself, lady,” I compliment her. “Yes, let’s get a move on. I’m so starving, I could eat a horse right now. The sooner the better. What about you?”
“Sí. I’m hungry. The common room is calling my name. I hope they have something good.”
“Beggars can’t be choosers, Rina,” I say, trying to sound like a mother scolding her child as I smirk. “But I’m crossing my fingers for some fried chicken and mashed potatoes.”
“Or some ropa vieja with congri. Yumm.”
We exit room 10 laughing. Things are good once again. Loud voices coming from down the hall lure us in the direction. As we draw closer, the laughter and shuffling of chairs carry out into the corridor.
“Sounds like a party, mi amiga. Maybe we’ll have some fun tonight after all.”
“I can’t imagine a party going on in the middle of a hurricane, but I’m definitely up for it. Let’s do this.”
Katrina enters the room first and I follow behind.
I stroll into the room with food on the brain as my tummy growls and rumbles for the third time in the past few minutes. My eyes zero in on the hanging lights scattered around illuminating the large dim area and the multiple televisions suspended from the walls in various spots, each of them blasting out the weather and what’s to come with Hurricane Georgia. Tables are jam-packed into the space and full of people. There’s a countertop in the corner where drinks are being mixed up and served by Grady’s lady, Kendall.
“There’s Kendall over there, Rina. We can ask her about the food. Follow me.”
“Okay, niña. I want to get some food, now.”
As I weave in and around the tables packed with people, I get the strange feeling that someone is watching me. Scanning the room, I don’t see anyone who stands out or who I might know. Hmph. We continue to the corner of the room, hopefully to find the promised hot meal.
“Hey, Kendall. I’m Jocelyn and this is Katrina from earlier, in the lobby.”
“Hi, girls. Y’all look much better than before. Storms rough out there. I guess y’all are ready to eat, right? Give me just a sec and I’ll go get your grub. I hope you like country food.”
“Sure thing. No problem. Thanks,” I say.
I focus on Kendall as she finishes mixing up a drink and passes it to an elderly-looking man. He’s wearing a button-up sports shirt untucked from his khaki pants and a fedora with a feather on the side.
“Now take it slowly tonight, Mr. Jenkins. We don’t need any repeats of last night. Right, hon?”
“Ah, shucks, Miss Kendall. I’ll be good. Gotta keep my wits about me with the storm comin’ and all. I might be needed to help.”
His smile is cheerful and light as he turns around carefully making his way back to his table, careful not to spill a drop of the most certainly tasty drink Kendall made for him.
“That’s Mr. Jenkins. He’s a permanent resident here at the Pit-Stop. God love him. Good. Now where was I? Oh, food. Hang on, girls. I’ll be right back. Have a seat right at the high-top table. The one over there.” She points at the tall lone table in the corner as she exits through the door behind the makeshift bar.
I like this woman already. She radiates a good heart. No wonder Grady snatched her up. I’d sure like to hear that story. With the weather getting rough, I foresee a good old-fashioned girl’s gossip hour.
Within a few minutes, Katrina and I are sitting at a table in the corner, scarfing down cubed steak, new potatoes, and steamed veggies. Kendall is an excellent cook. Same caliber as my momma. It’s all simply delicious.
I finish up the last piece of cubed steak on my plate and take one more drink of sweet tea when I feel someone staring at me again. Pushing a stray piece of hair behind my ear, I glance up and lock eyes with fierce unyielding blue ones. Beautiful eyes that belong to a baldheaded, tattooed hulk of a man. His look gives nothing away. He seems indifferent to the fact that we have locked gazes. Then, in contradiction to his appearance, his mouth quirks up with a lopsided grin, barely revealed from the goatee hair on his face, and I look away. Son of a biscuit eater. My heart is pounding rapidly, caused by this bad-boy biker-looking man a few tables over.
“Are you all finished, chica? I’m going to take these to Kendall and see about getting us some drinks. What’s your poison tonight, mi amiga?”
“Yeah, thanks.” I’m fidgeting with my napkin and diverting my eyes left and right. Old habits die hard. “Well, hmm. I’m sure they don’t have any Moscato here, so I’ll take a rum and coke. With an extra shot of rum, please. I need something to calm my nerves.”
“You got it, chica.” She glances in the direction of the table with the smokin’ hot bad boy I’ve been making eyes with. “Oh. Don’t look now, but I think you have an admirer. And his friend’s not too bad either. I’ll be right back. We’ll have to go chat them up when I get back.”
Katrina walks off, leaving me with that last piece of information. Always the cheerleader in my corner. Daring myself to see if he’s still watching, my eyes look up. Yep, he’s still staring at me. This time, he looks away to speak to the other guy at his table and I’m gifted the chance to study him for a brief time. His features are hard, tired and worn, battle weary. This man has been to the dark side. The scowl on his handsome face portrays a man of action with a badass disposition. Hottie McHottie is an understatement to his masculine beauty. I’m sure he has many stories to tell, or maybe he wouldn’t want to. I’m suddenly wanting to know. No—I’m needing to know more about this mysterious man.
His eyes. It’s his eyes that give me pause. I’m puzzled by the familiarity. It’s like I know him, yet I know that’s impossible. I’ve never seen this man before tonight and he’s not really someone I would hang out with, even though I’ve never been one to judge a book by its cover. Those eyes, though, they’re a haunting blue. They remind me of Keagan, although his eyes were never haunted. Keagan’s blue eyes were full of happiness. They would sparkle with mischief and life. I have never come across another person who had the same color eyes like his. This man is the first. Aside from his rough exterior, his eyes seem to tell another story, calling out to me and drawing me in.“Ha, I knew you had your eyes on him too, chica.”
After she sets down a red solo cup full of rum and coke, no doubt, I scoop it right up without comment and take a long swallow, feeling the burn as it goes down gently. Boy, does it feel good. Then I take another just because. I look up and see Katrina studying me suspiciously.
“What? I know it’s not my usual thing, but it’s been a crazy day, right? I need a little liquid courage right now.”
“
But remember, you’ve got to take it slow this time. You don’t want to get sick.”
I’m not bothered in the least by her comment. I’m in control. My eyes wander to the tattooed hulk again; I can’t help myself. His bright blue gaze ripping holes deep into my soul.
“Why don’t we go and join them? We’re in this for the long haul tonight, so let’s have a little fun, niña!”
“Wait! Rina!”
I grab hold of her and she falls back into her seat.
“What? Jo, come on, mi amiga. It’s okay to live a little. No harm, no foul. Right?” Katrina’s wisdom is whiny and impatient. I really can’t blame her.
I sit there for a few minutes, analyzing her frankness. She’s correct. I know this to be true. I’m the cautious one. I find it very hard to just let go and loosen up. For so long I’ve kept up my guard. After everything that happened with Fallyn and then when I finally trusted someone again, my ex-fiance, well we all know how that turned out. And before that, the only boy relationship I ever had was with my best not-boyfriend Keagan. I just never wanted to trust anyone completely again.
But this isn’t really about trust, is it? This is about living a little and having some fun. I’m still young, even though I act like a senior citizen sometimes—careful, safe, and above all, never getting too close to anyone, ever. I have a selective circle of friends and that’s the way I like it.
Katrina is the only person who ever broke down those walls I have erected around my heart quickly and without much effort. We’re soul sisters, someone I can trust completely.
“Okay, Rina. But we need like a code word. In case one of us wants to leave or something goes wrong. Ya know? Just in case.”
Beautiful laughter erupts from Katrina. She thinks this is funny. Maybe she’s right. I’m not twenty anymore.
“Alright, mi amiga. Just like when we were in college, huh? Okay, how about pink? That’s your favorite color. We can say ‘pink’ if we get in too deep.”
I hold up my hand and make a slashing movement while shaking my head.
“Nope, no can do, Rina. I like pink too much and it could come up in conversation. You know my boots are pink, right?” I laugh heartily. “Let me see. Maybe … headache. Yes, headache. It would be easy to leave if one of us had a headache. What do ya think?”