Loving Me, Trusting You

by C. M. Stunich

  I fight my way to Kimmi's side because I know that when it comes down to it, even if she hates me half as much as I pretend to hate her, that she won't tell anyone about the tears that shine wet on the dusty planes of my face.

  It's two in the morning, and I'm still awake. I'd rather not be, but the moon won't let me sleep. She was beckoning to me through the curtains and drawing me out here to sit on the edge of the pool with my thoughts. The water might have chlorine in it and be swimming with water bugs, but at least it looks pretty. I dip a finger and try to grab some control over myself. I don't feel like me anymore. I blame Gaine for it because he's the closest person to me, a victim of friendly fire, but maybe it's true. He's been desperately trying to see inside the cracks of my psyche all these years, so I guess he's finally done it. He's in and I am screwed. ¿Qué voy a hacer?

  Tray Walker.

  I twirl my finger through the water and watch the trail of ripples, comparing my clumsy motion with the weightless dance of the insects on the surface nearby. They're probably laughing at me, at this ridiculous woman with the horrible past who can't make up her mind for shit.

  Right now, sitting here in this quiet loneliness, I know that I was right. I know why I feel so conflicted. I want Bested by Crows to suffer for what they did, but I don't want to be the one to act on it. I figure it's because I've already been through enough shit. I have plenty of nightmares to keep me awake at night. I'm not a saint myself, so I have more than enough to atone for. You add that on top of all the horrible things that have ever happened to me and there you have it. I'm tired. I'm done with all of this.

  I drop my palm to the water and hold it there, feeling just the slightest kiss of liquid against my flesh. It feels like Tray's blood. Well, in my mind it does. In reality, it's nothing like it. It was sticky and hot; my mouth filled with the taste and scent of copper, like I was sucking on a jar full of old pennies. He convulsed like a fish out of water and bled out right then and there in front of me, life fading from him like color draining from a photograph. One minute, he was in color, the next he was black and white.

  I want to like it that I did it, to cackle with glee at the memory like a wicked witch in a fairytale with some hope of a happy ending. But I don't. Don't get me wrong though. In no way do I feel guilty for what I've done. Did Tray deserve to die? You make your own decision on that, but he did deserve to pay and I extracted my remittance. Was it right? I don't fucking know. But I won't do it again. If I do, I'll just be splitting myself up into even smaller pieces. Right now, there's a chance I can recover. Later, maybe not so much.

  I glance up at the roundness of the moon and wish I could join her in the sky, join las estrellas and sparkle for eternity in blissful peace. I laugh and the sound echoes around the empty pavement, stirring up the day's dust to dance a solo just for me. I'm not usually so poetic, so I know something must be wrong. Fuck you, Gaine Kelley. I don't know who you think you are, but if I keep having these Shakespearean thoughts, you are done for.

  “Mireya?” I almost pull a knife when the voice sounds from behind me, soft and unassuming but also unafraid. I turn to find Amy Cross standing with her arms crossed over her chest. She's dressed in a pair of pink silk pajamas with a hotel robe thrown around her shoulders. Her blue eyes catch the moonlight and throw it back at me, like she knows all its secrets. I squeeze my fists and try not to scowl. I don't want to deal with her or Austin right now. I can't even get into that. Ten years of chasing that fool man around and I have nothing to show for it. What a waste of time. It just goes to show that no matter how strong I think I am, inside, there's a pathetic, quivering cunt just waiting to get out. I don't know if Tray and his cronies put her there, or if she was there all along, but I'm tired of looking at her ugly face. I've cried, what, three times in as many days? I don't cry. That's not me. That's her, all her.

  “What the fuck do you want?” I ask Amy. It's not enough that I'm nursing sore knuckles and a bruised face, that I got the shit beat out of me even as I kicked some ass today. Things went well for us, but I'm still hurting, and now I have to deal with this. I throw her a poisonous glare and a once-over that says she'd do best to back the hell off.

  “May I?” she asks, gesturing at the edge of the pool nearest me. I give her a look that says no, but apparently she misinterprets my silence for a yes. I glare at her heart-shaped face and her pale skin, already warming up with color from the sun. The worst part about her isn't just how pretty she is, how her chestnut hair falls straight and silky around her shoulders or how her lips always look like they're just about to smile. The worst part is that she's fitting in here, that she slipped right into this life like she was a piece missing from the puzzle. Austin looks at her like she's a god and her face mirrors his. They belong together, whether I want them to or not.

  I look away.

  “Austin hovering around the door somewhere?” I ask, gesturing my hand at the dimly light entry to the lobby. I hear Amy's clothes rustle as she shakes her head and slips her robe off her shoulders, rolling up her pant legs and dipping her feet into the cool water. When I glance back at her, I see a small shiver work its way up her legs. It was hot as fuck out here today, but the water is freezing ass cold. Don't know how they manage to pull that one off.

  “He's not back yet,” she says, and I can see in her eyes that she's worried. I am, too, but I refuse to show it. Kimmi and Austin have done this midnight rendezvous shit for years. It's just now that I'm hearing what it's all about, but it makes sense. I almost feel betrayed that they didn't tell us sooner. Robbing banks. Who gives a shit about that? There are people in this world who have too much and some who can't have anything, who don't fit into a particular mold. That's us, Triple M. We're not just bikers, we're people with pasts that would light up the sky if you set them on fire. We need this group and this life to keep our spirits alive. It might come at the cost of others, but then, nothing in this world is free. We work for our livelihood in different ways.

  “Gaine?” I ask instead because if Austin isn't back, then that means Christy and Amy were still in our room. I doubt he'd let her out to wander by herself. The initial fight might be over, but we're still here and neither of the other gangs wants us to be. If they come at us again, it's going to be with an even worse intent. They're going to come for us, and it's not going to be in broad daylight in the middle of a hotel parking lot. No, next time, they'll grab us when we least expect it, in a place that makes it easy to take things a step further. And I'm no optimist, so I know what's coming. Rape and then death, that's it. Or for poor Amy, they'd probably just rape her and then take her with them for a fate worse than death. I feel irritated with her myself.

  “He sent Beck with me,” she says, and I throw a narrowed glance over my shoulder. I don't see the asshole, but then, when Beck doesn't want to be seen, you won't see him. I don't know what his story is because he refuses to tell it, and I don't mind. I don't exactly walk around blabbing about how my mother was a Castilian artist who painted vampires and fairies and cats with demon wings. I get the weirdest urge to tell Amy about her, but catch my tongue just in time. I don't want to have girly gossip with this bitch; I just want her to go away.

  “Then we're safe as long as the military doesn't descend with nukes.” I reach for a cigarette I started earlier and left in the ashtray nearby. I put it between my lips and inhale. Amy laughs at my joke which I don't think is funny at all and then throws me a sweet smile.

  “You're absolutely gorgeous, you know that?” she says, and I raise a dark brow, taking in her petite perfection and her soft curves. So this is the kind of woman that Austin was after all along. Nice. The polar opposite of me. Where I'm dark, she's pale and light, where I'm gruff, she's polite. Fantástico.

  “I'd thank you for the compliment, but then I'd remember you stole my boyfriend and I'd have to get pissed off. I don't really want to deal with that right now if you don't mind. Why don't you go back inside and watch Lifetime or something?” Amy laughs a
gain and the sound doesn't echo like mine. It's light, like bells, and simply peals away into the silent evening. Bitch.

  “I didn't come out here to talk about Austin,” she says and my lip curls as I pull out the cigarette and toss it into the pool. Amy looks at it aghast, but clears her throat and says nothing.

  “Gaine then,” I say, figuring that must be it. She saw us fucking, and I'm sure she figured out what we were doing in the bathroom. Plus, I know she sees the way he looks at me. “The last thing I need right now is for you to throw your two cents in. He still loves me. Fine. I get it. But I don't want to love him. That's all there is to it.” Amy's smile grows a little wider and then she's glancing over her shoulder and checking to see if she can spot her bodyguard. Beck is visible now inside the glass doors, flirting with one of the night staff. I roll my eyes.

  “That's not it either,” she says as she reaches down and unbuttons her top. Underneath, she's got on a swimsuit. It's the color of honey and half as sweet. This thing looks like it was designed in the early fifties or something. It covers everything. Amy takes off her pajama top and lays it aside, standing up and dropping her pants to the cement. “I just wanted to come down here and make sure you were alright.”

  “Yeah, so that's why you wore your grandmother's swimsuit under your pajamas, right? To check in on me?” Amy laughs again and sweeps her hair up on top of her head, twisting it into a bun and snapping a hair tie from around her wrist onto it to keep it still.

  “This,” she says, pausing to gesture at the beige jumpsuit she's got on. “Is most certainly not my gram's swimsuit. It's far too scandalous, don't you know?” Amy points to the curve of the suit on her upper thigh. “Gram's was much more conservative. Went straight down to her knees.” With a wink and a nod, Amy launches herself into the cold water and disappears in a perfect swan dive. I watch her move beneath the water for a moment, and don't even bother to look up when boots appear beside me. Beck is an idiot, but he's good at what he does.

  “Are you two skinny dippin'?” he asks, squinting into the darkness and trying to catch a glimpse of Amy. I put my cigarette out on the toe of his boot, and he doesn't even notice. He's too focused on trying to catch some free tail. Wish I was that single-minded. Must be nice being Beck Evans.

  “Only in your wildest fucking dreams,” I tell him as Amy surfaces with a gasp and treads the water with a smile on her face.

  “Everything alright?” she asks him as he tucks his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and grins.

  “Be even better if you two lovely ladies were to put on a show for me.” Amy laughs, but I don't. Beck might seem funny at first, but after a couple of years, he just gets annoying.

  “That desk clerk is leaning over the counter,” I tell him and he moves back, so Amy can swim forward and lean her arms on the cement edge near my feet. “Her ass is in a prime viewing location. Go away and do what you do best.” Beck pats me on the head and laughs again. He's always fucking laughing. Must be nice.

  “She's more colorful than a leprechaun's ass burstin' with rainbows,” he says and Amy snorts.

  “What?”

  “He thinks she's gay because she's not interested in him. Beck always thinks that.” I start to stand up, irritated that my quiet slice of space has been ruined and pause when Amy's hand touches my foot.

  “I mean, who wouldn't want a little cut of this beefcake?” he asks, and then laughs at his own joke. See what I mean? Sometimes, I think it's a front for something darker, but I guess I'll never know. I don't have the time or leisure to delve into Beck Evans and his many intricacies. “Only reasonable explanation is that she prefers titties. Can't say that I blame her.” Beck shrugs and, satisfied that he's not missing any nudity, moves away again. As soon as he's out of earshot, Amy grabs my attention.

  “You know, I brought a book with me, one of my favorites. I think you might like it. I'd be happy to let you borrow it if you want to read it.” Before I can object, she forges on, leaning out of the water, eyes sparkling. Reading is obviously her thing, but it isn't mine. I don't want to get lost in somebody else's story. I'm already having enough trouble trying to navigate my own. “There's a character that kind of reminds me of you. Sali Bend, I think you could relate.”

  “Bonding with fictional characters isn't my thing, but thanks for thinking of me.”

  “The only good lie is one that sticks. Otherwise, it's just all bullshit.” I give her a narrow eyed look, and she smiles. “A Sali Bend quote that I happen to think fits.” Amy reaches up and hauls herself out of the water, plopping down next to me with a splat. “We all need an escape every now and again, an opportunity to lose ourselves, if only for the moment. I look at you sometimes and I can't help but think of my mother.” Her face falls, but the expression doesn't last. It hits rock bottom and bounces right back, leaving her with a bittersweet smile.

  “A preacher's wife?” I ask her as I straighten my legs out and let my feet hit the water with a splash. The coolness washes over me, bringing a sigh to my lips. I bite it back, refusing to show Amy anything but my harshest side. I think about that damn video again, and I wonder how much it played a part in my fate. What would've happened if I hadn't sent it? I glance over at her and can't help the feeling that somehow, things would've ended up the same. I don't necessarily believe in fate, but sometimes shit is just meant to be. I roll my eyes at my own inner thoughts and Amy smiles wider.

  “A person who thinks she should be one way, but might be happier if she let herself be another.”

  “And what makes you the ultimate, fucking authority?” I growl at her, scooting back, feeling my chest tighten with anger. This bitch is going to come down here, disturb the one freaking peaceful moment I've had in a long while, and then psychoanalyze me? Nuh uh. Not happening. “Listen here, sweetheart. You don't know me, so don't act like you're a freaking expert all of a sudden. I don't need your advice, and I sure as hell didn't ask for it.” I lean in close, but Amy doesn't flinch. She sits stone still and listens to my rant without the slightest hint of fear or anger in her blue eyes. “You don't know where I've been or where I come from or what's going on in my head.” Amy nods which surprises me into a brief second of silence.

  “No, I don't. You're right. I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't make judgments like that.” She pauses and reaches out a hand, placing her fingers on the back of mine. “But if you want to tell me, I'm here. You can say whatever you want, about anything you want, and I'll listen. I'm actually quite good at that.” She pauses again and this time, swallows nervously. “Even if it's about Austin, you can talk about it.” Amy stares at me with such a warm expression in her eyes that I don't know what to do or how to handle it. I don't have female friends. I just don't. And I definitely don't have heart to hearts either.

  I stand up suddenly, my lace nightie billowing in the wind around my ankles, and open my mouth to speak.

  I find that in reality, there's absolutely nothing that I can say.

  I leave Amy at the pool with Beck and march up to my room, rapping my knuckles gently against the door and waiting for the sound of movement inside.

  “It's me,” I say before Gaine gets the chance to ask. I let my fingers rest against the wood and try not to think too hard about the erratic thumping in my chest. Obviously, he's having an effect on me, maybe he always has and I just never noticed. I guess I might've taken him for granted all this time. I try to think back on my weakest moments, the moments where I needed someone the most. Did I run to Austin? Only for the little things. When it came down to it, when it really counted, it was Gaine I was spilling my soul to.

  I step back and swallow my resolve, letting it slide down my throat like a dry lump. I'm cutting him off. Period. If I keep playing this game with him, things will change, and I'm not sure I'm ready for that.

  “You have a nice swim?” he asks me, and there's no hint of anything in his voice but mild interest. I look up and find that he's not smiling, not gazing at me with affection. Guess he
listened when I told him to back off. It's what I wanted, so I try to be happy about it, try to pretend that I don't feel anything in the air when I slip past him and move into the room.

  Christy's asleep on top of the bed, curled up into a ball. This journey is going to tax every last ounce of strength from her. I hope she's willing to pay for it with all she's got.

  I check the clock on the nightstand and decide that I don't have time to shower. Austin and Kimmi should be back soon and then we'll be moving out again, hopefully to someplace free of conflict. I run my hands down my face and breathe in the sharp scent of chlorine. I know I'm wishing for something that'll never happen. I might have made peace with my needs, but that doesn't mean Bested by Crows will go away or that this … war on women will stop. I can only hope it doesn't get bigger than this. I mean, I get that there's an antiquated consensus among some gangs about women being pledged members, and I've dealt with my fair share of half-assed insults and bullying, but I've never seen it get so serious. Bested is going to turn this into an all out war if we're not careful.

  I move over to my suitcase and let my mind wander.

  “Is it alright if I step out for a bit?” Gaine asks, surprising me. I turn my head and glance at him over my shoulder. He's staring at me with a carefully blank expression now, like there's a lot he could or would say if he had the chance. I don't give him one.

  “Yeah, fine with me.” I pause, mouth open, and think about saying something else. But there is nothing to say. The best thing for me to do right now is to keep my distance from him. “But be careful, alright? The air might be settled, but it'll only take a gust of wind to stir it all up again.” Gaine nods and moves away, reaching for the door handle without another word. It doesn't feel right to let him go, but I don't have much of a choice. I have no control over him or what he does.