Foolish Games

by Lilliana Anderson

In the last few days, I’d learned a lot of things about bikers. Namely that, they did regular things like the rest of us. They didn’t go around purposely trying to frighten the life out of people for fun, and when they did, there was a reason behind it. Essentially, they were doing their thing and providing for the people they loved—just like the rest of us. Sure, they smuggled drugs to do it, and some of the women at the clubhouse were pretty strung out on the stuff—I’d been there with him to ‘pick something up’—but really, they were no different than the Cartwrights. Just way hairier and a bit more scary-looking.

  And Breaker really liked to bake. I’d eaten more cake in his house than I’ve ever had at my birthdays.

  “You ever decide to kick that guy of yours to the curb, my door’s always open to you.”

  He’d also made it no secret that he was interested in me. But he didn’t like to mess with another man’s woman so never made any advances. Thank God. He was lovely. But my heart and body belonged to someone else.

  “I didn’t know bikers were such gentlemen.”

  He winked. “Don’t tell anyone.” Then he opened the passenger door on the Mack truck that would take me home. I couldn’t wait.

  One of the other club members drove a truck to Melbourne once a week, transporting goods for a national grocery chain. I was pretty sure they were using him to smuggle drugs too, but with a BOLO out with a somewhat grainy image of me from the service station cameras, I had to take what I could get and cross my fingers.

  Buzzard was already in the truck’s cabin.

  I figured he was called that because he had little beady eyes. He also looked about sixty and had questionable personal hygiene.

  Another thing I learned about bikers—they weren’t all hot like the ones on TV either.

  “Let’s go,” he yelled.

  A cool wind whipped at my hair. “Thanks again,” I said, smiling at Breaker before remembering I was still wearing his jacket. “Oh, I should give this back.”

  Breaker pulled the collar of the leather jacket up around my neck and zipped me in. “You keep it. To remind you there’s more to life than surfing and stealing cars.”

  “Like Harleys and cupcake-baking bikers?”

  He chuckled and pulled me a little closer. “If you weren’t already spoken for, I would have fucked you so hard you’d never want to leave,” he said close to my ear. His lips brushed my cheek, and I placed my hand on his chest as a barrier.

  “And if I wasn’t already spoken for, I might have fallen for that line, but I think we both know you only want what you can’t have.”

  He grinned, brown eyes twinkling. “You’re good at reading people, Ronnie. Make sure you use that.”

  “I will.”

  He stepped back as I climbed into the truck. “I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave,” he said, making me laugh.

  “Goodbye, Breaker. I hope I never see you again.”

  He smiled. “Me too, babe. It’s been real.”

  Ten hours in a car took more like fifteen in a truck, and Buzzard wasn’t much of talker. He wouldn’t even go for a game of dirty license plates. I wanted to stick a needle in my eye just to alleviate some of the boredom.

  But once in Melbourne, I quickly made my way to Southern Cross Station and hopped a train to Torquay. Another hour and a half and I had the salt air of my home against my skin.

  I closed my eyes and breathed in. It was only a week since we’d left, but God, I’d missed it. It felt like a lifetime had passed, the entire time I’d been away from Kristian, from my family, was a slowly ticking clock. I wasn’t secure enough in my position with them to feel confident that my return would be parades and roses. I expected a little hostility over another job gone sideways, but I only hoped they’d hear me out and forgive me for sending them running unnecessarily.

  Needing the comfort and reassurance that only Kristian could give me, I headed towards the beach shack, hoping that maybe he was there instead of all the way out at Jasmine’s. The sooner I saw him, the better it was for my nerves.

  My step was light, and I hummed a nonsense tune out of hopeful comfort. I hadn’t even walked that far when I saw Kristian’s Ute parked at the curb. I wanted to clap my hands and jump up and down. I’d never been so happy to see that stupid vehicle in my life.

  Elated, my heart light in my chest, I ran to it, hoping to find him—or even Abbot—inside it. But it was vacant, locked up tight.

  That’s OK. I can wait. I’ve already waited days, so a few more minutes won’t hurt.

  When the minutes stretched from five to twenty, I climbed up on the bonnet and sat with my bag beside me, the leather jacket bundled up to the side. It was late afternoon. I’d been travelling since late the night before, and at some point, I think I dozed off because a sudden noise scared the shit out of me.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The Cruellest Of Cruel

  Bwoop, bwoop

  My eyes flew open, my heart lurching in my chest as the Ute beeped unlocked beneath me.

  Darkness had replaced the sunlight, and it took a moment to register where I was.

  Kristian.

  Sitting bolt upright, I turned and saw him on the path, staring at me with his keys in his hands, telling me he beeped the car specifically to wake me up.

  It was for that reason I didn’t run into his arms.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked when he didn’t speak.

  “I’m trying to see how many biker tattoos you accumulated. Although I see he gave you a different souvenir,” he said, indicating the jacket.

  I blinked twice. “Excuse me?”

  He stepped forward. “I saw you. At the motel. It was touching, really it was.”

  “What are you talking about?” I gasped, my chest so tight I could barely breathe.

  “You. The biker. The fact you went straight to him and stayed with him in his house. I saw you together, several times. I watched the way you were with him for days. I had to be sure.” Sure of what? What is he going on about?

  “You’re talking out your arse,” I whispered, my eyes burning. I already knew what he was accusing me of, and it felt like a knife in my gut.

  “Tell me, was it planned the whole time? Was the cop even a real cop?”

  “I got into a car chase with the cops to protect you, you motherfucking arse.” I spoke through clenched teeth. “That biker took pity on me and hid me from them. Then, when the police quit searching, he took me to find you. But you were gone. I’d barely been gone an hour, and you were gone. Packed up and left. He convinced me that you didn’t abandon me and then he gave me a place to stay. He helped me get home because the cops were looking for me and I was so desperate to get back to stupid you.” By this point, I was yelling, tears streaming down my face. I wasn’t sure at which point it started, but the hysteria gripped my throat and coated my words. “I have been through hell and back because of some misguided notion that I was finding my way home. To my family. But now I see I was wrong. You’re just like all the rest, Kristian Cartwright. You use people and throw them away when you’re done with them.” I hopped off the hood of the Ute, grabbing my bag and jacket. “You don’t deserve me.” I angrily swiped at the tears pouring from my eyes. “And you don’t deserve my tears. Here.” I pulled the ring from my finger and pegged it at his feet. It bounced with a ting. “Rot in hell!”

  Then I turned and ran as fast as I could, barely able to see through the tears. When I finally got to the point where I couldn’t breathe and move anymore, I dropped to my knees and pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes.

  I hated my life.

  I hated my life.

  I hated my life.

  No one stuck around. No one trusted me. No one gave me a fucking chance. They didn’t care if I lived or if I died. Whether I was safe or in danger, whether I could fucking breathe. I wanted to squeeze my eyes so tight that I disappeared, popped like a bubble of nothingness and simply ceased to be.

  I
t would be so much easier.

  Balling up my fists, I hit them into the concrete ground and screamed. Again and again and again, slapping and crying until a set of hands wrapped around my upper arms, and I jumped to my feet defensively.

  “Oh my God, Ronnie. What happened to you?”

  I met Holland’s concerned eyes for only a moment before I crumbled again, this time crying into her shoulder.

  “Come with me,” she said kindly, her hand rubbing circles on my back. Let’s get you cleaned up, then you can have a stiff drink and tell me all about it.”

  Taking me to a property farther down the coast right near Bells Beach, Holland stayed quiet until she stopped her car in front of a quaint farmhouse.

  “Here we go,” she said, unclipping her seatbelt. “Nate should be back later. He has some meeting at Jasmine’s and quite frankly, I’m sick and tired of being there. So, here we are.”

  I sniffed. “Are you supposed to be at this meeting too?”

  She waved her hand dismissively and shrugged. “I’ll text so he knows I’m safe and having dinner with a friend.”

  That just made me cry more.

  “Shit, Ronnie. Come inside. I’m a lot bigger than you but I’m sure I have something you can wear once we clean up those bleeding knuckles.

  I didn’t even realise… I turned my hands over in my lap, seeing the damage I did punching the concrete.

  “OK,” I said, sniffling.

  Once inside, she directed me to the bathroom and showed me how the rainfall shower worked before leaving me to it.

  “You have a beautiful home,” I said as she was leaving. I wiped the side of my hand across my nose, taking in the rustic décor that looked carved from nature. It was a home that belonged in magazines.

  Holland thanked me. “You should see the library.”

  Stepping into the shower, I let the water wash over me, the heat seeping into my aching muscles and stinging my scraped hands. I’d never felt as out of control as I did right now. To be offered your dreams, to hold it in your hands and wear it on your finger, believe it was real before losing it all again was the cruellest of cruel. They should have let me go when I ran. They should have never interfered in my life at all. They should have left me be. They were cruel, heartless people who called you family one moment then treated you like a pariah the next.

  Why? Why am I surprised? I was my mother’s unwanted pregnancy, and from there, life never improved. Why didn’t she just abort me to save me all this pain? Why do I keep expecting—hoping—someone will actually give a fuck?

  When my pity party started to hurt my brain, I closed my eyes and shook my head, repeating the only good advice my mother ever gave me. “You can’t rely on anyone but yourself, Ronnie. No one will give you what you need. You have to take it for yourself. Do you understand? Do you understand?”

  I covered my face with my hands, tears bursting the dams of my eyes. I had never cried this hard and had no idea why this was hurting me so much. “I’m better off alone,” I chanted. “I’m better off alone. I don’t need him.” My voice cracked and I slammed my hand against the tiles, trying the line again. “I don’t need him.” That wasn’t strong enough either. Come on, Ronnie. Say it like you mean it. I cleared my throat and went again. “I don’t need him,” I said with force, feeling it in my chest. “I’m better when I’m alone.”

  I don’t need them.

  I don’t need anyone.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  As Green As Green Can Be

  “Feeling better?” Holland asked when I emerged from the bathroom with Band-Aids on my knuckles. I was wearing a sundress and an oversized cardigan several sizes too big for me, but there was a sash about the waist of the cardigan, so I wrapped it around myself like a robe, and it did just fine.

  “Much. Thank you for that. A shower and some clean clothes really does the world of good.”

  With a nod, she smiled and picked up a teacup that had a little saucer and everything. “I made you this. I wasn’t sure if you would prefer tea or alcohol, so I made you a Hot Toddy. My aunt—she raised me—loved them in the evenings. Said they could cure anything. It’s tea, honey, lemon, and a splash of whiskey.”

  Taking it from her, I lifted the cup to my nose, smelling the concoction. It reminded me of Lemsip. I took a sip, tasting all the flavours she’d mentioned, and felt the warmth of the alcohol spread as it hit my belly. “That’s actually pretty good,” I said, placing the cup on the saucer I was still holding in my other hand. I wasn’t sure where she wanted me to drink it.

  “Why don’t we sit?” she suggested, gesturing toward the overstuffed couch in the lounge room. It faced a fireplace and there was one of those distressed wooden coffee tables in front of it. Around it, bookcases, a sideboard, a large window with an ocean view, but no TV.

  I sipped at the tea and tucked my feet beneath me, my body getting lost in the dress. “I suppose you want to know why you found me screaming in the street,” I said, clearing my throat as I straightened my spine.

  “You can talk if you want. Or, we can just sit. I can put the television on.”

  “You don’t have one,” I said, frowning slightly because she should have known that—it was her house, after all. Wasn’t it?

  She grinned and reached to the side, picking up a remote that she aimed at a large landscape painting on the wall. It slid up and there was a flat-screen television behind it.

  “Classy,” I said.

  “It’s very Get Smart.”

  “Get Smart?”

  “It’s an old TV show. It was always on after school growing up. Haven’t you seen it? They made a movie of it a few years back—bumbling spy who takes all the credit while his female assistant does all the work? You know, like every workplace everywhere?”

  I shook my head. “I think I missed that one.”

  “We’ll have to add it to our list of things to watch.”

  I looked into my cup, watching the gentle ripples move over the tea’s surface. “I don’t think we’ll be doing that anymore. I’m thinking I might get out of town. I probably should have left years ago, anyway...”

  “No, Ronnie,” she said, touching my arm. “Don’t run away again. We’re only just becoming friends.”

  I looked out the window, her words hitting me in the cracks of the wall I kept trying to put back up. “It’s not really up to me. Kristian doesn’t trust me—and I guess I don’t blame him. We didn’t exactly start in a way that builds trust. But still…I can’t be in a relationship like that. So, it’s best I go. Especially since, well, who knows what the Queen of Hearts will do.”

  “Is the Queen of Hearts Jasmine?”

  I nodded and mimed chopping my head off.

  “I hear that, sister,” she said with a chuckle. “Although, I don’t think she’d do that. She likes you.”

  “If she believes Kristian’s version of events, I can’t see how that could possibly be true.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You don’t know?”

  She shook her head. “All I know is that they returned early and you and Kristian didn’t. I actually expected to see you tonight. They were meeting because Kris got back this afternoon. You didn’t come back with him?”

  “No. I came back for him. But he made it very clear that he doesn’t want me around anymore.”

  “Those Cartwrights can be absolute stubborn arses when it comes to matters of the heart. Lord knows I went through it with Nate, and Alesha went through it with Sam. They like to cut their own noses off to spite their face.”

  “Well, he can go around looking like Voldermort for all I care.”

  “There you go,” she said, patting me on the knee. “There’s a movie reference we can all get on board with.”

  I sniffed and laughed a little. I liked her humour and was glad in a way this was ending early. With her kind eyes and understanding nature, I would have grown too attached to her. Perhaps it was because she was a teacher and used to guid
ing all kinds of people, but she really seemed to get me. I was going to miss the friend I never got to have.

  “He thinks I cheated on him,” I said after a while, finding that I really needed to get that detail off my chest. The injustice of it, the weight of his accusations… They had me feeling sick and twisted up inside. I felt that if I could just get one Cartwright to listen and understand, then at least I’d get my say. Then I could leave and close the door on this chapter of my life.

  “Why would he think that?”

  “Because he saw me with another man. We weren’t doing anything. In fact, he was actually hugging me out of comfort. But Kristian saw it as something else, and now he’s convinced I ruined the job on purpose. That I had planned on the cops all along.” Frowning, I shook my head.

  “You got caught?” she shrieked, her eyes going wide as the colour drained from her face.

  “No. They didn’t get caught at all. I did. The intel on the car we took must have been wrong, because it was reported stolen.” I then proceeded to tell her about my ordeal—the car chase, running on foot, doing everything I could to make sure I kept the police away from them so they could finish the job, the fuck-up with the home button on the Blackberry. I told her how Breaker helped me, how horrible I’d felt when I realised they’d left without me, how I travelled back with a truck driver who didn’t talk, and stank—all so I could get back to Kristian. “The thing that kept me going was the thought of running into his arms and having him hug me and say, ‘Thank God, doll. Thank God you’re home.’ But he didn’t say that at all. He accused me of fucking another guy. But I didn’t. I fucking didn’t.” I shook my head, swallowing the lump in my throat, because I refused to fucking cry over that man again. He’d gotten all the tears he would from me.

  Holland was quiet for a moment, her brow furrowed as she studied my expression. “I’m sorry, Ronnie. It sounds like you’ve been through an ordeal and Kris is being a complete and utter cunt monkey.”