by Nikki Wild
“You’re reading too much into this. He’s just a guy who crashed his bike.”
“Look, I’ve lived a little more than you have, young lady,” she says. “You’ve been sheltered from how bad the world can be. I know how kind and loving you are and that you want to believe in people but trust me when I say that some people are born bad. Don’t get mixed up with his breed.”
A fire sparks in me. “Don’t condescend me. I’m not as innocent as you think I am.”
“Perhaps, but you are as naïve. With your Catholic upbringing…” A lie I told. “…I’m looking out for you, Lucy. Your love for helping people is a beautiful quality but only when you use it with good judgement.”
“I don’t wanna argue this anymore. If he’s not feeling better in the morning I’ll take him to hospital in the morning with Todd’s truck. I’ll be with him a few hours and if in that time I’m raped, murdered or otherwise then, well, you have my permission to write ‘I Told You So’ on my tombstone. But, like I said, that’s not going to happen.”
“I’m not the bad guy here, Lucy. Why the attitude?”
I roll my eyes and scoff. My heart palpitates with frustration and I turn to leave. This is a weird place to find ourselves— we never argue, ever. It feels wrong.
“Lucy!”
“Leave me alone, Billie. I am a grown adult and you’re not my mother. He’s staying the night and if you call Ralph about this, I’m quitting.”
I leave, shutting the office door behind me. In the tavern, Landon’s still sitting with his face in his hands. I make sure to step on one of the creaky floorboards to capture his attention.
He shoots awake, puffy eyed from the deep nap he must’ve drifted into. “You okay? I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Yeah, sweetheart. Just fell asleep.”
I fall with a sigh beside him and kiss him gently on his head to give him some comfort. He leans back a little from me.
I turn my face away as it blooms a hot blush across my cheeks. “I…I don’t know why I did that.” I have to stand up again and pace for a bit, pretending to rearrange some things on the walls like books and ornaments.
I hear him laugh a breathy laugh from behind me. “Landon, please don’t read into that.”
“Hey, darlin’. Don’t stress. It was sweet. Weird, sure, but sweet.” He laughs again. “Nice to know someone cares.” I inwardly scold myself.
Billie clears her throat to get my attention and reappears from the office, leading me a little away from Landon so he can’t hear us. “I have to go home now. Know that I don’t feel comfortable the way I’m leaving you right now. You two can stay here and I’ll know if you leave because I’ll check the security cameras. I’ll be back at six tomorrow.”
“Billie, I’m an adult. This is on me.”
“No, it’s not on you, actually. That blame would fall on me, your boss and best friend. Remember,” she starts to lower her voice to a whisper, “there’s the gun in the safe. Or the kitchen knives…Oh, maybe I shouldn’t leave the knives out—”
“—He’s not a serial killer, Billie. He isn’t. He’s sweet and normal and not going to bring any harm to me, I promise.”
“You got a crush on this dude or something?”
I twirl a strand of loose hair. “Pfft, yeah, that must be it,” I tell her sarcastically. “That bad boy charm.”
“I’ll text Todd for you and let him know what’s happening.”
“No!” I hiss. “I mean…No, thank you. It’d only complicate things. Please don’t tell him.”
“You need to be honest with him, baby girl. Don’t keep shit like this from him. This is serious.”
“We’re not together.”
“Doesn’t matter. He cares about you.”
“Well, I’ll tell him myself tomorrow.”
“I’m letting him stay, I’m texting Todd so he doesn’t get a shock in the morning,” she says, presenting her hands to me. “That’s the deal.” She grabs her coat from the hook and before I can complain further she holds her fingertips to my lips. “Landon, I’m heading home so I’ll leave you both to be mature adults and figure out what we’re going to do with you. My cell will be on the whole night if you need anything, Lucy. You got it?”
“Thank you.”
“Cheers for all your help, Billie. It’s real nice of you to let me stay.” Landon sounds genuine in his sentiment.
“Mm-hm. I’ll see you in the morning.”
She exits out the door, letting the cold evening breeze blow inside. I shiver.
Landon stands, stretching his one free arm then walks over to me. “Everything okay? You look upset.”
“Billie can just be a little overprotective. Sorry for her whole attitude.”
“Hey, look. I will do my best to find a way to leave ASAP. I don’t wanna burden you with my vegetable brain too much longer.”
“You really don’t remember anything at all? Do you? High school? Yesterday’s breakfast?”
Landon huffs to ease the tension and browses some wood-carved Californian animals on a shelf. “At this point, darlin’, I know my head hurts, I lived in Portland, and I ride on that wreck of a bike we left out there…” He trails off. Something on his hand catches his attention instead. I can make out a silver ring on his thumb that he examines a while. “And… There’s a girl in my life named Mia… Mia Rossi.” When he finishes talking, he looks at me and presents his hands as though to say ‘ta-da!’. But his trick hasn’t impressed me, not one bit.
A girl…. A girlfriend?
My chest constricts. I turn my expression away from him to hide my shock. I’ve never experienced such sudden heartbreak. I’m such a short-sighted idiot! Why did I never consider the possibility that he moved on from us? But I’m a hypocrite. I was out here leading Todd along like one day we’d be dating… Trying to forget Landon existed…
Maybe I needed to crash a motorcycle.
“W—What sparked you remembering her?” I stammer.
“This fuckin’ cheesy-as-shit ring is engraved with her name.”
My hands are visibly trembling and I have to hide them in the pockets of my jeans. I know if I try speak anymore, my words will come out shaky. This is a pain I can’t endure. I think of the two of them together, holding each other, telling her he loves her, maybe even talking about our secret. Would he lie to her about how much he loved me? Would he even mention me at all? I don’t know which would be worse.
“Well, who is she?”
“Think she’s my girlfriend… Or my wife. Ask me in the morning and maybe I’ll know,” he replied, glancing down at his hand again, then back up to my face.
“Lucy? You’ve gone a little pale.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind. I’m fuckin’ sick of having all this attention on me. How ‘bout you tell me more about you?”
“I think you know most of it already,” I say truthfully.
“Oh, really? So all there is to a fascinating woman like you is that your name is Lucy and you work in a tavern. Oh, and you’re very persistent in your caring of tall, dark, handsome strangers.”
We make direct eye contact and it intimidates me. “Yep, that’s pretty much it.”
“What’re you into then?”
“Into?” I say and move back to sit in the booth.
“Hobbies, interests, whatever you do when you’re not working.”
“I mean, I paint and draw some. I hike.”
“Oh yeah? What d’you paint?”
“Anything. Impressionist portraits lately but I do landscapes too and sketches and stupid little collages with leaves and things like that.”
“I’d like to see them sometime.”
I smile. “Pfft, good luck with that. I don’t exactly enjoy showing people my work.”
“You sell ‘em?”
“Heck no,” I say, wide-eyed. “I’m not quite up to that standard yet.”
“Somehow, I think you’re underplaying yourself, Lucy.” Landon joins m
e on the seat and puts his arm around the backrest behind me.
We talk some more. Despite his lack of memory, Landon still has that charm and engagement in conversation that makes you feel like every word you say is important. Ninety-percent of the conversation is about me and art and painting and hiking. Usually, that would terrify me to have so much attention on me but not with him. With him, speaking about myself feels cathartic and significant.
I look up at the clock to see it’s now three o’clock in the morning.
“You wanna sleep?” Landon asks me softly. I shake my head. “Good.” His mouth parts to say something more but he backs off.
“What?”
“It’s…it’s nothin’.”
“Go on, say it.”
He purses his lips and lifts his eyes to mine. “Forgive me for how fuckin’ weird this sounds but can I just say I feel better when I talk to you.” His sincerity intimidates me. I lighten the mood with a soft punch of his arm and a playful ‘shut up’.
“I’m serious.”
He smiles again and the conversation continues, this time moving over other topics Landon seems to have no problem remembering… Harleys, Portland, and ‘Would you rather…?’ type questions.
It’s here in the dim amber glow of the tavern, laughing at Landon’s jokes, getting lost in his eyes, and feeling his breath near me that I find myself torn in two, utterly conflicted. I almost have him back…
And I don’t know how I’ll ever let him go again.
5
“Wakey, wakey, gorgeous.” I nudge Lucy, who’s asleep on my thigh. She groans a while then wakes to look up at me.
“Wakey, woken,” she tells me with a sleepy smile. “The alarm has spoken.”
Her innocence is endearing.
I chuckle. “Wow. Someone get this girl a spot at slam poetry night.” For that, I receive a whack into my ribs from a sleepily disgruntled Lucy. She’s made me genuinely smile for the first time in who knows how long. I appreciate her for it.
She sits up slowly and rubs her face. I won’t lie that I’m a little taken aback by how calm she seems to waking up where she has. Doesn’t last long though. The reality of the situation hits her and she quickly stands up to back away from me.
“Shit,” she says to the far wall then turns her head back to me. “Landon?”
“Unless you’ve got a new name for me today, then yeah.” My memory’s still cloudy and I’m pissed about it after three hours of uncomfortable rest. With a sigh, Lucy heads toward the bar to pour herself a glass of a water.
She watches me a moment then cocks her head. “How’s your, uh, your head today?”
I have this persistent migraine I know ain’t a good sign but I have no choice but to endure it for now. Lucy can’t find out about it. “Better.”
“And your memory?”
I think of last week to what I go up to. Blank. I try to think of my parents’ names. Again, nothing. Where I went to high school…Where I work…Hell, even my favorite movie. It’s all white noise. “Fuckin’ wrecked, Lucy, if you’ll excuse my French.” I hope to God this Mia girl’s out there looking for me ‘cos ain’t a chance in Hell I can find my way home in this state.
“This really isn’t safe for you to put off seeing a specialist. We need to get you checked out. What if there’s permanent damage?”
“There won’t be.” I drag my teeth along my lower lip. I know I’m wrong. Fuck knows how brains and brain damage work but I can’t bring myself to go. There’s an intuition I can’t ignore, a goddamned good reason for me not wanting to see cops or hospitals trapped in my fucked-up head, and I’m gonna listen to it.
“How would you know?”
“Lucy.” I pound my fist against the table. She shrinks back a little. “Sorry. I’m tired. Just, please, not again with this shit, especially this early. No fuckin’ hospitals. That’s it.”
“But I promised Billie.”
“Well, Billie doesn’t seem to give a fuck about me and my well-being anyhow.”
“She’s just overprotective of me.”
“As she should be. Besides, she won’t have to worry long. I’m headed outta here today.”
Lucy stalls on her way back to me, her hands holding two glasses of water. “You can’t leave.”
“Huh?”
“Y—Your bike’s wrecked.”
My hands comb through my hair. That, too, had slipped my mind. How the fuck am I meant to fix her in this podunk town, let alone afford it? And where is my wallet?
My head shakes. “Fuck it. I’ll walk if I have to, hitch a ride somewheres. I’ll quit wafting my bad air through your sweet town.”
“Stay at my place,” she answers quickly. “Remember, I have that sofa bed. It’s not the best but it’s out of the way, beneath some redwoods and nowhere that anyone’ll find you. No visitors besides Billie.”
I can’t handle this girl’s innocence. I stand to meet her and put the glasses on the table with my non-slinged hand. I cradle her face as I stare at her intently, needing her to believe me on this. “Quit being so trusting, darlin’.”
“But I do trust you.”
It’s no use getting through to her. “Why the fuck would you trust me?”
“Because you haven’t given me any reason to think otherwise.”
“I might be a little out of my skull right now, but I’m from a patched MC. I don’t trust myself.”
I lay out my cut on the table, running my rough, dirtied fingers over the wrinkled, well-worn leather. There’s an embroidered logo of a dragon, the only patch that remains attached to the piece. Above it is an arc of a darker patch of leather where something has been torn off. There’s other rips in the leather that suggest a knife has been at it.
“You see this?” I ask, running my fingers over the missing patches. “Either someone hates me being a part of this club or I fucking do… I’m bad news, darlin’.”
She takes a minute to cast her gaze down along the black and grey ink on my arms— Skulls, people’s names, and grim reapers, all of which seem foreign to me. Then there’s the other tattoo of which I can still translate. “When you got ‘In death do I rise’ in Spanish across your fuckin’ chest, I’m figuring I ain’t the best company to keep for a girl like you.”
“A girl like me?” Lucy shoulders by me and switches the lights on. “Who do you think I am?”
She ties her long hair back into a ponytail. Her eyes are sleepy and her left-over makeup is smudged around her eyes and still I’m so attracted to this chick. She’s fucking gorgeous in every way I like but I can’t pin down exactly why.
“Lucy, I mean no offense.”
“No, tell me who you think I am?”
“I mean, you seem a little naïve, a little small town, girl-next-door type. The kind of girl I think I dated when I was a kid,” I said, my head aching with little flashes of memory too swiftly fading to hang onto. “You’re the kind whose daddy would kick me out of the house soon as I picked you up for prom and, to be honest, someone who really needs to learn a lesson or two about staying fucking safe.”
I half expect a laugh in return but instead she tells me, “Fuck you.”
“Woah, there she is. Think that’s the first time I ever heard a bad word fall from those sweet lips.”
“You have no idea who I am.”
“Alright, prove me wrong.”
She scowls, probably stopping herself from mentioning a time she shoplifted some gum from a convenience store back when she was sixteen to prove how tough she is.
“I buried someone,” she squeaks, glancing up at me and watching my response.
“Oh, uh-huh.” I laugh along with her attempt at a joke but she doesn’t follow suit. I’ve offended her.
“Forget it.”
“Aw, don’t be like that. Tell me what’s the worse thing you’ve done.”
“Landon, how about you quit being a prick to me? All I’ve done is help you.”
“I’m just making conversation, darlin
’.”
“Well, darlin’, I’d appreciate it if you’d fucking stop. You don’t wanna go to the hospital? Fine, I won’t take you. But you damn well better come up with a plan on what we’re gonna do with you before Billie gets here and tears us both a new one.”
“Oh, so you’re afraid of her and not me?”
“There you go again.”
“Fine!” I snap. “I’ll leave.” At that, she rolls her eyes, huffs and folds her arms. “What? I’ll leave. That’s what you want, right?”
“No, that isn’t what I want. I want you here since you can’t remember where the heck you’re even from. That jacket… Somebody might be looking for you.”
I’ve upset her. Her voice is quivering in her frustration with me and I want to calm her down but she keeps zig-zagging around the room, pretending to tidy the place.
“I’ll grab a motel.”
“With what money?”
I look at the cash register on the bar without even thinking. Lucy must see me because she walks back to me and knocks a fist on the table in front of me. “Don’t even think about it!”
“What? I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re a thief. Is that who you are?”
“Woah, jeez. I fuckin’ glanced over there. Get outta here with that bullshit.”
“No.”
“I ain’t gonna steal from you.”
“What’s your name?” Lucy says, ignoring what I said. “Your full name, Landon. What is it?”
“Really? We’re doing this again? I. Don’t. Know.”
“Try. We’re gonna play a game. I ask you questions and you answer them as quickly as you can. Got it? So, what’s your full name, Landon?”
“I don’t—”
“Landon, what’s your name?”
“Ask a different fucking question,” I say.
Her expression suggests she’s not impressed. “Where were you born?”
“Portland.”
“What color is your hair?”
“Dark blonde.”
“Faster. How old are you?”