by Emma James
Hearing the reason my skater-boy died starts to strip the emotional wall I’ve put up in front of this man down to a paper-thin husk around my heart.
I drop my head back against the couch and try to get a hold of myself because I refuse to break in front of this man.
“Are you all right, Flora?” He feels he can use my first name, and we still have not been formally introduced to each other. I need to stay angry with this man to get through this meeting. My best friend died over an undiagnosed heart disease, and it feels like the least important thing on this man’s mind. “Flora... would you like me to get your mother for you?” I’m not deaf. I heard him the first time, but I’m not ready to answer him. I’m not sure I can without tearing up.
I swallow down the emotion and hang on until I can breathe without sobbing.
I feel a hand rest gently over mine, which makes me jump a little, by the gesture, which kinda ruins this whole persona he walked into my home wearing. “Flora?” He squeezes it to get me to look at him. I don’t. Then he withdraws his hand. The ogre isn’t so much the bad-guy-messenger as he likes to make out.
“I heard you the first time, Aron, now that we are on a first name basis like we know each other. I was trying to pretend you aren’t still here.” I can play at being rude too. Grumpy is as good a weapon as anger at keeping me holding it together. “But we are far from that, aren’t we? I wasn’t even supposed to know your name today, was I?” I take my time, making sure I can trust myself to sit up and face him because looking at him will help to keep me angry and get rid of him faster. I turn my head and open my eyes. “You came here today to serve me with some scare tactics with your henchmen for decoration, didn’t you?”
“I wish she would stop calling us henchmen,” I hear one of the thugs grumble in a deep gravelly voice from close by.
“And they can’t even leave you alone with me.” I sigh, tiredly as I try wriggling into a seated position, and again Aron offers his assistance, which I accept until I’m sitting up and facing him.
I may be only eighteen, but I am trying not to act like a teenager. I haven’t felt like a teenager since I found out I was pregnant, but this man is bringing out the protective mother in me, and I want to show him I am no pushover because this will all no doubt get reported back to Toran’s parents.
“Please know my mother, and I will love this child, and we will let him know his father loved him with all his heart. I have very little to be able to tell my child about his father, and I will have to accept that. I just want to clear something up. Toran was my first and... um... the only time we... And I was his.” Crap, I know I’m turning beetroot. I was supposed to say that a little differently. “What I mean to say is I am not a whore. We knew each other for eighteen months before—”
“Now that is too much information,” a henchman cuts me off as he tries to whisper, but his voice is too deep and loud to be quiet.
Aron groans. “Really? Would you two go wait out the front? You’ve lost all your badass respect in her eyes.”
Who are these people?
When I’m ready, I ask the question I already know the answer to, but I want him to be looking me in the eye when he tells me. “Will I be able to attend the funeral?”
He sighs loudly before answering me because he already knows what his answer will cost me to hear. “No. You will not be invited or be allowed to be present at the funeral. Toran’s parents have already claimed the body and taken it home for burial.”
I can’t say goodbye to my skater-boy. I know his four friends will stay loyal to Toran’s family because I now realize after this meeting with Aron, that they will have little choice in the matter.
“What is the point of being here, Aron? Why didn’t you just send a message through the boys?” Anger keeps me strong.
“I was sent to determine what type of human being you fell into—the good kind or the devious, plotting kind. I have deemed you the honest kind.” I don’t quite know what to say to that, so I just stare at him.
Aron reaches inside his leather jacket and pulls out two long, thick envelopes.
Oh, my gosh. This is not happening.
“From the stunned look on your face, you definitely are the honest kind. Yes, these two envelopes contain a lot of money. It’s for you and the baby.”
I didn’t want a cent.
“It’s hush money, isn’t it? Is this really what Toran’s parents think of me? I whisper-shout at Aron. “I’m feeling pretty strong with all the anger inside me.
“Never doubt their love for their only child. This is money to help you live your life as a single parent. They may not want to claim their grandchild or ever set eyes on it, but they do want it to live in comfort”—he looks around the neat den—”not that you are not living respectably. You have a good mother.”
“They weren’t sure how much Toran had told me about them, so they thought I might blackmail them. Didn’t they?” I’m just throwing mud and seeing what sticks. “Or am I an embarrassment to the family? Or is Toran being ga—”
“Enough! Trust me when I say it’s in your best interests to take the money and keep the father of your child a closely guarded secret.” He dips his hand inside his leather jacket again and brings out a document and a pen. Please read this and sign it.” He holds the papers out to me.
I stare at them.
“Girl... why do you have to be so difficult at a time like this? Just take the money and live your life.” Aron’s frustrated with me, and I am emotionally drained and past caring how annoyed Aron is with me. “Flora, please do as I say and read them carefully and then sign them. I don’t want to be walking out of your front door without those papers signed. You don’t want to be insulting these people. That would be a grave mistake.”
“And now we get to the threats,” I mutter. I’m disappointed we arrived at this level. I snatch them away from Aron and carelessly read them, my anger strengthening my resolve.
The documents get down to the nuts and bolts of the cash gesture. The paper came with a warning if I chose to ignore the gift then my life would be made very difficult, and I would be virtually unemployable. They had eyes and ears everywhere. They want me to take the cash and carry on with my life without making any waves, which equals, keeping my mouth shut.
No paperwork ever is to have Toran’s name mentioned on it. “Father unknown” was to be put on the birth certificate, making me look like a girl who slept around.
Wonderful. Talk about insulting me!
Whether his parents like it or not, Toran’s blood runs through my unborn child’s veins, and envelopes of cash isn’t going to wash that clean. It is the twenty-first century, and DNA is a powerful thing.
I am hurting Toran’s memory by not including his full name on the birth certificate, but I am not ever going to get given his full name and details. I had lost that battle before it began.
I sign the papers. If these people are so desperate to ignore their biological grandchild, then I didn’t want anything to do with them.
“Please leave,” I say quietly.
And that was that. Aron stood up, folded the papers neatly, placing them inside his leather jacket. He calls out to the boys, who appear in front of me faster than he could say all their names out loud.
“You four are with me. Flora needs to rest.”
“Boys, I need a—”
“I can assist you, Flora.” Before I can object, Aron has an arm around my waist and one at my elbow, and he has me on my feet like I don’t weigh thirty-three-weeks pregnant.
Each of the boys take their turn, giving me an awkward hug due to my protruding belly while Aron stands watching me from behind them.
When it is Gamer’s turn, his hug at first makes me laugh the way he overexaggerates, sticking his butt out to arch his body around my belly, and then he holds on for the longest time, giving me a genuinely heart-felt hug. And that nearly brings me to tears.
Aron is watching me until I start to tear up.
<
br /> Before he looks away, I catch a glimpse of what looks like guilt in his dark eyes and then they are all walking out the door.
It takes less than twenty-four hours to realize what Aron’s guilty look meant and why Gamer hugged me for so long.
The next day, Mom and I discover a FOR SALE sign out the front of the house the boys all once shared—their phone numbers are disconnected.
Aron knew he was going to be cutting me off from the boys.
Gamer had been saying goodbye to me.
If I wasn’t pregnant, I would question my sanity and whether they even existed in the first place.
It makes sense that Toran’s parents would take the boys away from me. Cut me entirely off to any link to them.
I was on my own.
***
I lift my head out of the palms of my hands, looking around my den.
I sit back on my couch and crush a cushion to my chest and stare up at the ceiling.
Gosh, I’ve not thought about that very odd meet-and-greet after Toran’s death in a very long time. And now it decides to flood my memories like it only happened yesterday that I was eighteen and thirty-three-weeks pregnant.
For the record, I haven’t touched a cent, something I am very proud of. It is all sitting in an account for Bowie when he turns twenty-one.
I knew I had to prove to Toran’s family; I was going to be a good mother. I wanted to show them their preconceived notions were wrong about me. I don’t doubt they keep tabs on me even now, but at least they will see me for the woman I have become. I am proud of what I’ve achieved. What my mother’s love, support, and understanding helped me to achieve. For all they know, I’ve probably used their money to get where I am now, and I am happy if they believe that and leave me alone and watch me from afar, even if that does feel a little creepy, but they haven’t caused me any trouble, so I just keep living each day as though they do not exist.
I hope Toran can see how free I am and how beautiful his little boy is.
I hope he is proud of me.
“Mom?”
I startle into an upright position, realizing I’ve been sitting here too long. “Yes, Bowie?”
I look proudly at my little boy. Bless him. He’s tidied himself up. He looks so smart in his little suit.
I take hold of his hands. “Bowie—”
“I’m sorry, Mom,” his words rush out at me. I love this kid so much.
“I know you are, honey. I just want to be sure where your mind is at with what happened earlier. I know as you get older things are registering more with you when it comes to not having a father in your life. Your friends’ parents are getting married today. Presley’s dad is a great guy. Taking one of Toran’s skateboards that he had left to you and riding it without telling me... well, that kinda makes me think you’ve got a lot going on in your head, buddy. You wanted something of your daddy’s to give you courage in front of Harper because you want her to notice you differently. You are waaaay too young to be thinking about anything other than being friends with Harper. She won’t understand you want to…” I wave one hand about in the air as I choose my next words carefully. “What I mean is, for example, if you want to hold her hand. She might not like that and be confused by your actions. Be there for her like you always are and let your body grow into the mind you already have. I know you are super intelligent, and I know how good a kid you are, and I also know you will grow into the man Harper will be able to understand more clearly when you’re both much older.” Damn, I hope I’m saying all this correctly, and he can understand me. It’s a time like now that I could do with a father figure’s words of wisdom, but my son only has me, and I will have to be enough for him.
“I’m okay. I shouldn’t have taken Toran’s skateboard and used it. I made a snap decision that didn’t work out well in the end. I won’t try to impress Harper again. Skateboarding is a lot harder than I thought.” He’s got the voice of a little boy and the intellect of a man-child. His honesty makes me want to tear up.
I blink back the moisture, which will threaten my makeup and hug my son. “I love you, buddy,” I remind him and pull back, letting out a soft sigh before standing up. “Bowie, give me a couple of minutes to close the house up and put the security on. Then I’ll walk you over to Whisper’s house.”
“Sure, Mom. I’ll wait outside.”
“Sounds like a plan.” I hold the front door open and wait for him to walk over the threshold. “Wait right here until I come back.”
“I won’t move.” He rolls his eyes playfully at me.
I need a moment to collect myself before I see Torque again, so I quickly head upstairs to my bedroom. My thoughts of this man are like a hot, humid day in the tropics.
A girl could easily let a man built to protect with messy, ash-blond hair take care of her, but Bowie and I are a good team. I know how to work this engine. It doesn’t need stripping down and rebuilding.
I’m older and wiser now that I have Bowie to be a role model for. I like who I am: strong, intelligent, and independent. I became a mother at a young age. I had to grow up quickly. Men don’t factor into our equation, and I am good with that.
My brow furrows.
Well, I thought I was.
I’m not even sure why I opened up to Torque and blurted out, about my first time having sex resulted in a guy realizing he didn’t like females that way. I haven’t told anybody that. It was too private, and then I go and tell the first man my heart decides to do the “cancan” Moulin Rouge-style for. Way to go, Flora!
And for the bonus round I all but tell him I’ve stayed celibate since.
What must Torque think of me?
Oh, the horror!
The cobwebs!
I quickly make sure I’m presentable, touching up my makeup in the bathroom wall mirror.
I remind myself I’m good with my lot in the life I have now without a domineering male to boss us around.
And you keep telling yourself that!
Bowie is amazing, albeit a little too grown-up for his age, but he gives me no trouble—except for today.
My anxiety is rising again when I think I have no clue how I am going to make it up to Whisper and Edge for Bowie’s mishap in judgment.
I study the woman in the reflection and let out an annoyed sound, tearing my pointer finger away, which absent-mindedly had made its way to my mouth. I spent too many weeks disciplining myself to grow these nails to ruin them now.
Torque may have been downplaying the damage to Whisper and Mr. Scott and no doubt himself, but there’s only one way to find out.
Time to woman up, head next-door and face the music.
I walk into Edge’s home to find the bridesmaids draped over couches and chairs in the great room sipping on champagne, looking like they belong in a bridal magazine double-page spread, talking among themselves looking calm, relaxed, and beautiful. You wouldn’t think they were late to a wedding.
Noticeably absent is Slade’s woman from the female crew. “Ladies, where’s Phoenix?” Their heads swing in my direction.
“Hey, Torque.” Hope, the pretty brunette with the glasses speaks up. “Phoenix has popped out to pick up the replica of Boxer’s suit from their house.” You would never guess looking at her now she was once living on the streets, homeless, and a gifted musician. She was rescued from that life by her man, Keanu. The guy’s got a big heart and Hope’s matches his.
“Evelyn’s a smart lady. She’s got her man pegged,” Joy calls out while standing up, walking confidently over to me in high heels (something I wouldn’t have seen her wearing before she met Levi) while the champagne sippers all nod in agreement. She smoothly hooks her elbow with mine, spinning us in a one-eighty direction, guiding me over to the other side of the large room.
Here we go. Joy’s got something on her mind.
We come to a halt, and as amused as I am with her need for privacy, I inwardly sigh because I know what she’s about to do.
The beautiful mechanic
stands at an arm’s-length from me, her eyes wandering over my appearance before placing her hands gently on my biceps. “Torque, are you okay?” She keeps her voice low. “We all saw you take an impressive dive for Bowie,” she continues in her mixed up Aussie/American accent. “I know you’re a macho man, but seriously, have you taken a good look at yourself?”
Joy spent eighteen years of her life in Australia from the age of ten before returning to Texas to reconnect with her father nearly ten years ago, and there she met/reconnected with Levi (but that’s another story).
“I’m good, don’t you worry about me, sweetheart. I’ve lost a bit of skin, but I’ll be fine.” I shrug it off. She knows not to make a big deal out of what she can see of my torn clothing.
Joy’s blue eyes are resigned to accepting my answer because she knows that’s all she’s gonna get out of me, even though my ass is hissing like a pissed off snake forced to sliver over hot coals.
“Regardless of your manly attitude, you’re up next to see Evelyn for a quick medical, so buckle up, big guy. I messaged her to let her know you’re here. She will call for you shortly. I’m sure Evelyn will get to the bottom of your injuries. Pun intended.” She winks, smirking. “Don’t think when I hooked my arm with yours to walk here it was for support, so I didn’t fall over in these heels. I got a look at your tush, big guy. Sitting down is going to be raising the choir.”
“Nearly ten years and Keanu’s use of puns is still rubbing off on everybody.” I laugh. “And nope, I don’t think it will be pleasant sitting down, but thems the breaks.” I grin and wink at her.
Joy’s husband, Levi, and Keanu are best friends who were both severely injured by a suicide bomber nearly sixteen years ago. Joy and Hope, their very aptly named females, are very close because of their husbands’ friendship.
“Well, don’t worry about your clothes, big guy, Phoenix is also borrowing a suit and shirt from Slade’s collection, seeing as you’re now both roughly the same size. Come to think of it, you are nearly man-mountain’s size.”