by Jordan Marie
“Be careful what you ask for,” Jack says, but he doesn’t get what Dog sees. I watch as Dog puts his hand on Jack calling him back. Weak-ass little punks.
“Be careful who you fucking follow,” I warn.
The waitress brings my food to the table and the look on her face says she doesn’t want anything to do with anyone at this table—including me. Probably a wise move.
“You two need to get the fuck out of here,” she tells the other two men.
“You forget yourself, old woman,” Dog says.
“You don’t run this town. You need to leave,” Charlie says, surprising me. I think I might like this woman.
“Listen here, you bitch,” Jack says, reaching out to strike Charlie and fuck me, I shouldn’t get involved, but for some damned reason I can’t stop myself.
I reach up and grab Jack’s hand. “Dog, I think you need to take your little puppy and leave. You’re ruining my dinner. Your message was delivered. Go back and tell Blade as long as you fucks stay away from me we got no issues. We clear?” Dog looks me over, nods his head slowly.
“Let’s go,” Dog tells his boy.
Jack makes a growling noise and yanks his hand free. I let him go, not taking my eyes from them. The diner is silent as they leave.
Once they’re gone, the woman called Charlie looks at me. She blows a strand of gray hair out of her face and the deep wrinkles on her face only get a little deeper as she studies me.
“You don’t keep good company,” she says, watching me.
I shrug, and take a bite out of my burger. Then I do what I do best.
I ignore her.
12
Hayden
“You okay, cupcake?” Charlie asks, and I fight down my panic.
In all honesty, I’m three steps away from a full-blown panic attack, but I’m doing my best to beat it down.
“What are they doing here? You promised this place was safe. I can’t stay here, Charlie. I can’t,” I tell her, and I’m whispering, but even so she can hear the fear thick in my voice.
“They’re gone now, honey. Apparently, they had business with that man you were waiting on.”
“He’s friends with them?” I cry, panicked. The thought of my neighbor having those men at his house. Of being that close again…I’ll have to move. I can’t stay, there’s no way.
“No. I got the distinct impression he didn’t like those men at all,” Charlie says, scratching the side of her chin. “But they definitely have moved in the same circles, so that’s not good.”
She’s right…it’s not good at all. I’m going to have to move…
“I’m going to go home, Charlie,” I tell her, wondering if I can manage to get out of town on the two hundred and fifty bucks I have saved up. My hand goes to my stomach. Maggie deserves better than this.
“Keep your head up, cupcake. I’ll see you Wednesday.”
“Maybe,” I tell her, weakly.
“Don’t do anything rash. I know you’re scared, Hayden,” Charlie says, putting her hand on my shoulder. I know she’s serious when she uses my real name.
“That man lives next door to me,” I tell her, wincing at the terror in my voice.
“Look at me,” she urges, and I bring my eyes to her. “I got the idea that those yahoos were afraid of that man in there. So maybe having him next door is a good thing.”
“I’ve never known any of the Dwellers to be afraid. They think they own everyone and everything.” I should know.
“I haven’t before either, well besides the Torasani family—which is another reason you should stay here. That plus, I definitely saw fear in Dog’s eyes when he was talking to him. So, hold tight for a little while, honey. Maybe this man is what you’ve been waiting for.”
“Doubtful. He didn’t like me before, and you didn’t see his face when they called me…” I break off. There’s no way I can say that name aloud. That’s not who I am. That’s never who I was.
“Maybe, but I have a feeling about him. I don’t think he’ll stand by and let a woman get hurt. I’m telling you he gives me good vibes. Him being here is a good thing, I feel it in my gut,” she says, as her leathery hand comes and strokes against my hair. She lays in the tanning bed way too much—so much her skin is the color of dark chocolate and leathery to the touch. But considering she’s almost sixty-nine, she looks amazing and gets around better than some women in their forties.
Charlie has been wonderful to me. I would have given up a long time ago if not for her and Pastor Sturgill.
“You and that gut of yours.” I laugh it off, but her words have helped some of my panic disappear.
“It’s never betrayed me. It didn’t with you, cupcake.”
“His name is Michael,” I tell her.
“Not much of a name,” Charlie says, she shrugs, curling her lips to the side.
“Pastor Sturgill says that’s the name of God’s most feared archangel who fought evil.”
“Not much of a church-goer, but I’d say that’s a good omen.”
“I hope you’re right.” I smile tightly. Unease is still swimming in my stomach.
“You and me both, cupcake. You and me both,” she answers, hugging me close.
13
Beast
I hear a car turning into the driveway before I see it. I’ve been pranking around on my bike. Turns out not getting roaring drunk every fucking night has its drawbacks. Those mainly being I have too much time on my hands. I’ve been trying to fill my time by tinkering on my bike. I’ve been kicking around the idea of getting a truck or something. I ride my bike and never really cared about finding a cage to drive around in. I had a vehicle through the club in Kentucky…once. I didn’t worry about bringing anything here besides my bike, but fuck, Kentucky winters aren’t this cold. Today is the first decent day we’ve had in a week and it’s still barely twenty. My eyes stay on the road, waiting to see whose vehicle shows up.
It’s been few days—maybe a week since I ran into Dog and his flunky at the diner. I’ve gone back a couple of times for breakfast. I’ve seen Hayden there, but that Charlie woman is the one who usually waits on my table. Which is fine. More than fine. Hayden has kept to herself. There’s been no more midnight chainsaw events, and she hasn’t even looked in my direction. That’s exactly what I wanted.
I won’t pretend I’m not curious to know how Pistol’s sister messed around and got herself involved with the Shadow Dwellers. The Dwellers are fucked up assholes. They are still merely existing because of the stronghold they have in a major city. There’s not a club around that’s not fed up with their shit. No decent club gives them the time of day. Their allies consist of men covered in shit and when I say that, it’s not just words. Scum stays with scum. If this Hayden chick messed with them, she should be counting her lucky stars she’s not tied to a bed spread eagle somewhere across the border used in ways that most women couldn’t imagine—or worse.
I watch as that run down little Ford Fiesta that Hayden drives pulls into her driveway, and disappears into her detached, run-down shack of a garage.
How that fucking car is even running is beyond me. It’s loud as fuck, and not in a good way; it sounds like it’s about to die at any moment. The stench of burned oil is so strong my nose curls as I hear her shut it off. I turn around facing my bike once again, making sure that when she comes out of the garage all she gets sight of is my back. The last thing I want to do is to encourage a conversation with her.
“Uh…Michael?” I hear from behind me a few minutes later, and I hold my head down. Apparently, I haven’t made it clear that I don’t want to talk to her. I don’t turn around. Maybe she’ll get tired and leave. “I didn’t see you at the diner today,” she continues, I can hear fear in her voice, and something else I can’t name. It’s there in the way her voice falters and trembles. Again, I continue being the bastard I am and don’t reply. I expect her to give up and leave.
It’s quiet for a couple of minutes, and I hear the sound
of walking. I breathe a little easier, knowing she’s going to leave. Then she does something few people do—especially these days. She comes around to face me. I’m looking down at my bike but she’s standing in front of me so in my vision all I see is her protruding stomach, covered in a dark blue, extremely worn jacket that’s stretched to zip around her. She needs a thicker coat.
“Will you talk to me for a minute? Please?” she asks, surprising me further. Picking up a rag I had lying across the seat of my bike, wiping the oil from my hands, I raise my eyes to her and see the paleness of her face. She doesn’t look good. I don’t mean that in her appearance. She’s never going to be a raving beauty. But today, she’s pale and her nose is red, like she’s sick. Which she probably is considering the crazy bitch has no brain.
“What?” I ask her, my voice rumbling, my tone clipped. She jumps slightly, but does her best to hide it.
“I wanted to explain about the other day.”
“No.”
“I mean you know, about those men and…”
“No,” I tell her again, turning away from her, to go towards the tack room, carrying my tools with me. I’ve been finished for twenty minutes, and suddenly, I’d rather not be here. The peace from earlier is gone, and there’s only one person to blame for that. Her.
“What do you mean, no?”
“Exactly what I said,” I tell her, and to reemphasize that because apparently, she’s simple-minded, I repeat the word, “No.”
“But, I wanted you to understand…” she says, her voice going quiet, and with that I’ve pretty much had enough, which means I’m going to have to talk to this woman, which pretty much pisses me off because of one reason…I do not like to talk. I spin around right before I get to the tack room. She stops mid-step, almost colliding into me. I harden my face, which isn’t that difficult, because I’m the first to admit I’m not a happy person, and now I’m fucking pissed on top of that, because this bitch won’t leave me the hell alone.
“Understand what?” I bark.
“How they…I mean why they know me. I’m not…it’s not what you’re thinking,” she says. Her face is red with embarrassment, and her body is trembling. She’s like a scared mouse, which would be great if she would just fucking leave and run away.
“I’m thinking I don’t like you, and I don’t want to talk to you,” I confide, not hiding the strain in my voice.
“But—”
I cut her off, not letting her respond. “And it’s not because of who you are, which would be reason enough. It’s not because of who your family is, which trust me would positively be more than enough reason. It’s not because of what you look like, which ain’t that fucking great, and it’s definitely not because of who you’ve let between those legs of yours.”
She gasps. Her face drains of color and her hand comes up to her face like I hit her. Not yet, honey, but if you don’t get out of here…
“So, you have nothing to explain. I don’t like you. I don’t want to talk to you. If that’s not plain enough, and you need a fucking reason, how about the fact that you’re pregnant. You obviously got that way without either caring about the father or worse, pushing him out of your life. You can’t even care for yourself let alone a child. And from what I’ve seen, you don’t give a damn about that baby in your belly. Those are more than enough reasons as to why I don’t like you. So, get the fuck out of my space and leave me alone!” I growl, my voice cracking, and that just makes me feel worse. I need her gone. I need her to leave before I’m tempted to wrap my hands around her neck and choke the life out of her. She’s just like Jan. A selfish whore who should never have children.
“How dare you. You don’t know me,” she whispers, and it’s a whisper so soft I have to strain to hear it. “I love my child,” she says, bringing her hands up to hold her stomach. They’re trembling and there’s a brown paper bag in one of them. I watch as it bounces with each shuddering shake of her hand. There’s a thread of hurt in her voice that almost makes me want to believe her, but I don’t. Jan would try and be innocent when she wanted to be too. “I would never harm my child. I would protect her with—”
“Were you protecting her when you went out in a lightning storm and almost killed both of us with a fucking chainsaw?” My words hit her straight on. I see it in the way the gray color of her eyes widen and her pupils dilate. I should let it go with that, but I don’t. I continue, giving her part of the anger that I’ve been carrying around for what feels like a lifetime. “I’ve seen women who care for their children. I know women who gave up everything to keep their child safe, lady,” I bark at her, my mind going to Beth. Hell, I don’t like Beth. I blame her and Skull for the loss of Annabelle, but I can at least admit that she did her best to protect her own child. She has my respect for that, if nothing else. “I’ve seen women who do that, and you are not that woman. You’re not even close.”
Those words are the ones that deliver a killing blow inside of her. I see it and somewhere under the anger it registers. Tears gather in her eyes, but she doesn’t cry. A few tears spill out and run down her face, but she doesn’t cry. There’s no sound. No heaving, gushing of the tears, no begging for understanding like women so often do when they’re called on their shit. No. She looks at me without replying. The bag in her hand drops to her feet and without another word she turns to leave, giving me the silence that I crave. Leaving me alone.
Exactly like I want.
14
Hayden
It’s been three days since my neighbor decimated me with his words. I can’t manage to even be mad. I mean, a lot of it was bullshit, and I’m used to closed minds. But, there was truth there. I can’t take care of my child like I want. Michael might be a major asshole, but he wasn’t wrong in that at least. And he was right again when he yelled at me for going out into the rain. In truth, I’ve been sick ever since. Being pregnant, they won’t really give me medicine, and even if they did, it wouldn’t really help. A cold just needs to work itself out of your system. So, I’m trying to tough it out and drink plenty of orange juice for the vitamin C. Would he think that’s wrong too?
Luckily, Charlie is understanding and she has made me stay off work for the last three days. I can’t really afford it, but since the run in with the jerk next door, I really can’t handle being in the public yet. I need time to recover. As a result, my mantra of being stronger tomorrow has been temporarily changed to being stronger next week. I figure that’s better than next year, which is what I really want to say at this point. That or…never.
Tomorrow, I need to do a lot of baking, but I don’t feel well enough tonight to tackle it. Instead, I’m lying on the couch watching horrible, romantic comedies. Kate and Leopold is the latest one. Why can’t life be like that? Your dream man coming to you from another time. A time when men were not such assholes and actually cared about women. Why? I burrow down under the cover. I managed to get a fire roaring in the fireplace, but the house is still cold. I probably have a fever, but I don’t have a thermometer. It takes too much energy to worry about it anyway.
I watch the movie, then another. By the next movie, I’m starting to think my plan to sleep it off won’t work. I’m feeling worse, and now I’m not cold. I’m burning up. I feel like I’m on fire. I’ve kicked off the cover, but I only grow hotter. I look around for my phone. I should go to the doctor. My head is spinning and my vision is kind of blurring. I might be panicking. You chill with a fever, right? You don’t get hot. I thought that was the way it went. I’ve not been sick a lot, so I can’t be sure. Crap.
This is one of those things a mother should know before she has a baby. She should know if her daughter is cold or hot and what that means. I don’t. I don’t know anything. Michael was right. Maggie deserves so much better than me. That’s when I start crying. I can’t stop, and I don’t want to. I continue to allow my misery, my doubts, my fears, and the hurt over Michael’s harsh attack wash through me and take over.
15
&n
bsp; Beast
I refuse to label what I’m feeling as guilt. I was a fucking dick, I get that and hell, I own it. But a lot of that was Hayden’s fault. She shouldn’t have pushed me. Still, I saw pain in her eyes and it’s bothering me. Not a lot, but enough that here I am, three days later, showing up at the diner. It would have been easier to go to her house, but I couldn’t seem to make myself do that. Not when I picked up the bag of cookies she dropped that day, and not even after eating those cookies. Cookies, which I will admit, were better than anything I’ve ever tasted. They were peanut butter with chocolate in the center, and they had a salty-sweet taste going on that I had never tasted before. They were fucking good. I get that she was trying to be nice. Maybe she was hoping she could use me for something, I don’t know. It’s possible…more than possible. I’d say definitely. Still, I don’t know her, and I should have just walked away.
The diner is mostly empty when I walk in. It’s never extremely busy. I’m not sure how the place stays open. There’s no sign of Hayden and that’s probably for the best. I don’t know what to say to her, yet. I just know I don’t want to encourage her to talk to me.
There are three other people in here. There’s an old man, who is probably in his seventies, and a couple of men my age who are probably on their lunch hour. It’s the same three people that have been here each time I come in. Regulars I guess.
I sit down and wait for a waitress to come and take my order. I’m here a few minutes and no one seems to be coming over to me. There are two waitresses, one is standing at the table talking to the old man quietly. Every now and then she looks over here at me. I’m used to people staring at me. I don’t really care about that. But it’s clear that she’s not going to come take my order. The other waitress is actually sitting at the bar and she’s shooting me dirty looks.