BABY GIRL II For the Ones We Love

by Scott Hildreth

  We were scheduled to meet tonight for dinner after work. My mid-day trip to the police station and a few other things I had to take care of took four hours, and now I was working late to complete my unfinished work from the day. I explained to Erik that I should be done around eight o’ clock, and he understood my need to work late.

  His understanding made me wonder if he truly ever had any expectations whatsoever of me. I felt like I was becoming much more comfortable around Erik lately. Maybe one day I will ask him. Not tonight, but sometime soon.

  As I finished my work, and turned off the lights, I noticed my father was still in his office. His office was a remote office in the parking lot, away from the showroom floor where I worked. As I looked toward his office, I smiled, remembering the talk that he had with Erik and I.

  I got into my car and quickly typed Erik a message explaining that I was on my way home to meet him. As I pulled out of the parking lot, I thought of holding him in my arms when he walked in. He almost always gave me a hug when he saw me, and I like that about him. It was one of the many things about him I expected and enjoyed. In some respects, I guess we’re all predictable. Even if the things are small or few, they’re still nice to have.

  As I sped down the highway my phone beeped. I fumbled with it, hoping it was Erik. Text messages from him always made me happy, and I had kept all of his messages that he ever sent me. I cleared the screen on my phone and glanced at it.

  Erik Ead: I’m on Douglas now. Meet at Il Vicino? The one on Douglas?

  I immediately typed “yes” into my phone and pressed send. I set the speed control at 70 miles an hour and anxiously waited for my exit to arrive. Waiting to see Erik excites me as much today as it did the first day we met. When I know I am going to see him, the time drags on forever. The road ahead had few cars on it. What little rush hour traffic Wichita had was long gone. It was now dark and I could see the taillights of all the cars ahead of me. There were only a few.

  Fuck it.

  I pressed the gas pedal to the floor and sped up to 95 miles an hour. As I changed lanes to exit, I thought about Erik dancing on the kitchen counter with his cock in his hand. I wish he did that more often. That night was the best night we have ever had. Ever. I want more nights like that, and I hoped they were more frequent in the future.

  I turned at the light onto Douglas and wondered what kind of mood Erik would be in tonight. I wondered what his day was like. What he did. What type of mood he was in. When I pulled into the parking lot, I saw his motorcycle parked by the entrance. I pulled in the stall beside it and parked.

  He never drives his car any more. I like that car.

  “I’m out here, Kelli,” Erik said from behind the fence of the outdoor patio.

  I skipped to the entrance of the patio privacy fence and stepped inside. Erik was sitting alone, and with the exception of Erik, the patio was empty.

  Yaaay.

  I walked to his table and started to sit across from him.

  “Hey,” he said sharply.

  “Yes?” I responded.

  “Kiss me,” he said as he leaned toward me.

  As I leaned his direction, he reached out and touched my face with his fingertips. As he held my face in his hand, he guided my mouth to meet his and kissed me deeply. As our lips parted, he flicked his tongue to touch my upper lip.

  “Your skin makes me want to touch you all the damned time. It’s tough for me to keep my damned hands off of you. Sit here,” he said as he pulled out the chair beside him.

  I sat beside him and smiled. I liked being close to him. He made me feel safe. Safe and special. When we were together it was easy for me to daydream about the what ifs. What if we were together for real. What if we were a true couple. What if we were married. What if he was really mine. What if…

  “Kelli, I’ve been thinking,” he said as he turned to face me.

  “About what, sir? I asked.

  “About you, Kelli,” he responded, squinting as he looked at me.

  Oh fuck. No. No. No. This is going to suck. He’s going to say something awful.

  “Uhhmm. Okay. What did I do?” I asked, wondering what happened.

  “Well, you didn’t do anything, Kelli. It’s more about us. Let me say all that I have to say, and then we can both discuss this, okay?” he asked as he moved his hand to his chin.

  The waiter came outside and Erik held his hand in the air and waved it.

  “Give us a few minutes,” Erik said to the waiter.

  Oh. My. God. I’m going to vomit. He’s calling me ‘Kelli’. This is not going to be good.

  I nodded and tried to fight back tears.

  “Kelli, this is about what we’re doing. This thing we have between us. I guess I’m ready to make some changes. This isn’t totally satisfying for me, not any more, not completely. I want to move ahead, take another approach with life and see what happens, see how I feel about change,” he rubbed his face and took a breath.

  I covered my face with my hands, sliding my fingers up to cover my eyes. I was going to cry. Cry and vomit. This could not be happening. I did nothing to deserve this. I’ve done everything he has asked. I have kept my mouth shut. I listen and don’t speak unless he asks me to. I have been a good girl. He tells me he’s proud. That has to mean something. Did he forget how proud I make him? I wanted to interrupt, but he told me not to. I moved my index fingers so I could see his face. He was looking up at the sky.

  “Kelli, I want to make a change. For me, it’s huge. For you, it may not even matter,” his voice was cracking and he was clearly upset.

  Seriously? Not matter? You shallow prick.

  “Kelli, I want to…” he took another breath.

  I moved my hands.

  “I want to commit to you. I want to be yours. I want you to be mine. Nothing really will change I don’t guess, just the knowing. Knowing that I’m yours. Tell the world. I will do the same. I just want to, I guess - what do they call it now? Exclusive? I want to be exclusive. Date. Boyfriend-girlfriend. Whatever you want to call it. I want you to know I’m your man. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for you, okay? You alright with that?” he inhaled a breath and paused, waiting on an answer.

  I tried to take a breath. It went in in short machine-gun like bursts. I was overcome with emotion. My face felt hot. I stared. He wants me. Erik Ead wants me to be his woman. Not just to fuck. He wants more from me. I want to give him all that I have.

  Erik Ead wants to be my man.

  I fought back tears and tried to bring myself to speak. Focus Kelli. You can do this.

  “Kelli, did you hear me?” he asked.

  “Will you…” I tried not to cry.

  “Still…”

  “Call me…”

  “Baby girl?”

  “Awwe, baby girl. Sure I will. You like that, don’t you?”

  I nodded my head repeatedly.

  “Okay, I’ll call you baby girl. Consider it done. Now, will you be my baby girl, nobody else’s?” he held his hands out with is palms turned up.

  I wanted desperately to make him proud of me. I didn’t want to cry, or scream, or do anything stupid. I reached out and squeezed his hands in mine.

  “I thought you’d be more excited.”

  “I am more excited. More excited than you can understand,” I choked the words out without crying.

  “Want to celebrate?” he laughed.

  I nodded.

  “What do you want to drink?” he asked.

  “Water,” I responded, “make it a double,” I added.

  “Wow, you are excited,” he chuckled as he stood.

  “Hug me,” he said.

  I stood from my chair and turned to face him, holding my arms out to the side. As he pulled me close to him, I felt his hands pressing against my back. I wrapped my arms around him. I buried my face in his shirt and inhaled. Faint, but it smelled like him. I inhaled again and relaxed, allowing him to hold me in his arms. He nestled his head beside mine, and moved my
hair behind my ear. His breath against my face startled me.

  “Who owns you baby girl? Who do you belong to?” he whispered into my ear.

  “Erik fucking Ead,” I mumbled into his shirt.

  I pulled my face from his shirt and looked up into his eyes.

  “Erik fucking Ead,” I repeated proudly.

  ERIK. Letting go of the past doesn’t mean that you release all your memories or thoughts associated with the events of or in the past. Retaining all of the memories, yet releasing the grip may be the key to succeeding. Brushing my teeth was routine for me. The same stance, same manner, and same location every morning. As I dropped my toothbrush into the holder, I closed my eyes. At that moment, to some degree, I released the grasp on a good portion of my past.

  My phone beeped, indicating that I had received a text message as I was brushing. I rinsed and walked into the kitchen to see what the message was.

  When I picked up my phone, I was a little shocked. Shocked and full of wonder.

  Contrary to the depictions on television and some movies, none of the members of the club, to the best of my knowledge, carried a throw-away phone. I’ve been around countless clubs, some of which are outlaw clubs, and I have yet to see a thow-away type phone used. This was good in the movies, but in my life, it didn’t exist.

  We did, however, have certain things that we did, or agreed to do, to minimize our risk in our use of electronic devices for communication.

  If we ever received a one word text from another club member, and that text depicted a location, it meant that we were to get there as soon as possible to meet. Additionally, the content of that meeting was something that could not be discussed over the phone.

  My text message was from Teddy, and it was one word.

  “Parking garage.”

  I quickly got dressed, in the car, and drove to the parking garage at the Warren theatre. I parked the car on the roof, got out and waited for Teddy. I leaned over the edge of the roof and watched traffic driving into Old Town Square. As I saw his truck enter the parking lot below, I leaned back away from the edge of the roof. I looked at the concrete deck where I had parked. I was mere feet from where Kelli made mincemeat out of her knees earlier in the summer. I chuckled out loud and retained a little bit of a smile on my face when Teddy pulled onto the upper deck.

  Teddy pulled his truck onto the roof and parked it beside my car.

  As he got out, I could see the distress on his face.

  “What the fuck, brother?” I asked as I approached him.

  “Well,” he said as he walked up to where I was standing, “probably a pretty dumb question asking you if you read the paper this morning ain’t it?”

  “You know I don’t read the paper, why? What was in it?” I asked.

  Teddy took a breath, put his hands on his knees, and exhaled.

  “Well, fuck Teddy, say it,” I begged.

  “He’s dead. Dead as absolute fuck,” he said as he stood erect and pressed his chest out.

  “God damn, brother, what happened? Who? You need somewhere to stay?”

  “No, goddamn, I didn’t kill anybody. Slick. He’s dead. Shot in the head. Guess he lives…well he lived out in the country, by that lake outside of Augusta.”

  “Holy shit. Need I ask who did it?”

  “That’s just it, they have no idea. No bullet. No weapon. No suspects,” Teddy said as he raised his eyebrows.

  “A-Train?” I asked.

  “Train sure ain’t braggin’, so if it was him he ain’t sayin’ so,” Teddy said as he shook his head.

  “Well, fuck,” I shook my head and walked in a circle.

  “Well, if it was him, this damn sure isn’t his first. For fucks sake, he killed who knows how many in that damned war,” I continued.

  “Yeah, probably wouldn’t bother him one ounce to shoot that prick either,” Teddy admitted.

  “Well, I didn’t tell you, but at the bar-b-que, Train was eye balling Slick by the beer kegs. Shake ran up to me and asked me to settle A-Train down. I barely, and I do mean barely got Train away from Slick without him snapping,” I said, turning and walking back toward Teddy.

  “No shit?”

  “Yeah, no shit. It was about,” I paused and thought, “it was right before you left. We went outside to talk to Bone about it. Shake, Easter Bunny and I,” I said, nodding my head.

  “Well, only real concern is this. Now we got all the problems that we tried avoiding before. You know with the club,” Teddy reminded me.

  “Fuck, true. Yeah, well, shit. May bring some questions to the members. Probably, all told, won’t be that bad, though. Hell, really it won’t be much at all. We didn’t do anything. The club didn’t do it,” I pleaded.

  “Tell the fuckin’ cops that,” Teddy laughed.

  “Well, Bone knows all those detectives and half the beat cops. Hell, you and I know half the beat cops,” I said, thinking of all of the officers that rode bikes.

  Over the years, although we weren’t friends, we had become friendly with two local and one national police motorcycle club. It seemed like a contradiction of terms, but there were actually police motorcycle clubs. The only catch was that you either had to be active or retired law enforcement.

  For the most part, this made association with these police clubs off-limits. They certainly felt the same way about associating with us. We were, however, friendly to them, and they were friendly in return.

  “Well, fuck,” Teddy said, “I’m nervous as a whore in church.”

  “Shit, Crash, you didn’t do a damn thing, you don’t have to worry,” I said, trying to digest what had happened, while making him feel better.

  “Easy to say, Doc. Tough to do, but easy to say,” he responded.

  “Well, shit. So what did the paper say?” I asked.

  “Said his name. Dave somethin’ or other,” he put his hand on his face and looked up at the sky, “Daniels. Dave Daniels, thirty-four, if I remember right. Said that he was shot in the damned head in his driveway. One bullet hole. Didn’t say all that powder burn shit or any CSI crap, so don’t know if it was a long range shot, or if someone capped his ass right there. You know, that show will damned near teach a fella how to kill someone, you ever seen it?” he asked.

  “What?” I asked, puzzled.

  “CSI, the T.V. show, it’ll give a guy some damned fine details about being a criminal, or gettin’ caught. Guess it just depends on what side you’re on,” he laughed.

  “Oh,” he continued, “said the suspected time of day of the death. Was, uhhmm, yeah, get this – uhhmm, approximately 8:08 p.m. Doc, what the fuck is approximate about 8:08 p.m.?” he asked, laughing.

  “Shit, that’s pretty definitive,” I chuckled.

  “Yeah, it said if you’ve seen anyone in the area on or about that time, call this number. And they gave a number to call,” he said.

  “Huh. Well, sounds like they know something,” I said, wondering about the entire event.

  “Well, watch your back, who knows what might come of this,” Teddy said.

  “Always do, brother,” I said, “always do.”

  As I pulled down the ramp, The Heavy, How Do You Like Me Now started playing. I turned up the volume and smiled.

  I like this song.

  And dead Slick or no dead Slick, I was just in a damned good mood.

  KELLI. Loving someone is easy. When the point in time comes that it happens, you don’t wonder, you know. Love isn’t questioned, and love certainly isn’t developed. I really don’t care what anyone says.

  Love just is.

  Love just happens, and there isn’t a damned thing you can do about it.

  Love has the ability to take away your breath or breathe life into you. Love has the capacity to make you feel as small as an infant or as tall as a giant. Love is a magnificent gift.

  Love is. Well, love just is. Love cannot be defined. I am in love.

  Don’t tell anyone.

  Not a soul.

  “Y
ou. Are. A. Pig.”

  “You skinny little bitch, kiss my ass,” Heather responded.

  “Seriously. I am half finished with my salad, and that Philly cheesesteak is gone. Fries, gone, and you’ve had two beers,” I said as I pointed my fork at Heather’s plate.

  “Listen, I was hungry, I told you that. I was famished,” she said as she licked her fingers.

  “I guess so,” I laughed as I took another bite of salad.

  “All Teddy and I do is fuck. That’s it. We haven’t watched T.V., went out to eat, or anything. He cooks most of the time, which is so nice. He’s a pretty good cook for real. He made steaks in the oven in a cast iron skillet the other night, and they were so good. The entire house got smoky, but they were stupid good. Better than anywhere in town,” she said as she pushed her plate to the side.

  “You’re going to be as big as a house in about six months if you don’t watch it,” I said as I stabbed another perfect bite of salad and chicken.

  “Do I look fat?” Heather said, pointing up and down the length of her body with her fingertips.

  I poked the salad in my mouth and shook my head.

  “Seriously, do I?”

  With my fork in my hand, I pointed to my full mouth as I chewed, still shaking my head.

  “Swallow it. I know you can swallow, so swallow it,” she said angrily.

  I swallowed the bite of salad, “Listen, that’s enough with the cock sucking jokes. That’s over.”

  “Well, stop with the fat jokes,” she said as she stood.

  “Do I look fat?” she asked again as she rotated slowly.

  Surprisingly, she looked fabulous. She was, again, dressed in slacks, and a nice shirt. The shirt was a crew neck, instead of one with a plunging neckline. She had a fairly flat stomach, and her face looked healthy. While looking at her face, I couldn’t help but notice her hair. It was a little darker, but not dark. For once, it truly looked fantastic.

  “Not at all. Okay, joking aside. You look fantastic. And your hair, it’s great. When did you get it done?” I asked as I forked another bite.