by A. Marie
Her toiletries sitting next to mine again placates a piece of me still rioting for her reappearance. Still demanding her return—to me.
Even though I regret letting them out, I meant the words I told her last night. Paige’s existence feels like a temporary fixture in my life and where I’d usually relish that knowledge, I now detest the notion. The idea of this girl leaving with a part of me that’s finally sprung to life scares me more than the fact that she’s responsible for resuscitating it to begin with.
Every time we get close though, one of us tramples all over the moment with our egos. I thought I had a biting tongue until I met Paige. Girl can draw blood with a single sentence. Hearing her talk about my mom hit hard. She nailed a target I doubt she was even aiming for and I did the foolish thing by firing right back. Shame settled like a weight in my stomach after our war with words. The truth is she’s in a league of her own but I tried to make her feel worthless. Again.
What the fuck is my problem?
Showered, I throw on one of my new tees I just got in. This one says Ride More, Work Less and I think it’s pretty spot on. It’s been a while since I rode for fun and Coty asked if we could ride together after work, so I take my Ninja to the shop. Even though Paige’s homecoming has me breathing easier, I could still use some open air. Work’s been great as far as my bank account is concerned but it’s been a fun-sponge for hobbies.
Although, teasing Paige could give any extracurricular activity a run for its money any day.
Angie corners me as soon as I step foot in the bay. Girl puts in more hours than the rest of us and isn’t even a full partner—yet. Coty’s working on something big for our old neighbor girl. Nailing down a girl like Angela takes time but luckily that’s exactly what Coty’s willing to put in. And lots of it. Dude would wait ‘til he’s gray and balding for her to be ready for the next step in their relationship.
He pushes her in other ways though—like the bedroom. Goddamn, I’m glad they got their own place. The sounds that came from that room when Coty still lived with us will be etched in my memories forever.
I can only hope the same can’t be said for what Angie, and now Paige, heard coming from mine.
“Morning,” I greet, giving her a quick once-over. She’s in her typical polo shirt half tucked into black pants and aviator glasses hanging off the few undone buttons at the neck. She somehow manages to bring a down to earth vibe to her otherwise professional look. Business casual with a hint of beach chick attitude. The patrons eat it up as does every other person that meets our boy’s girlfriend. She’s enchanting in a sea witch kind of way. Beautiful and charming until she swallows you whole for disrespecting her or her rules. Basically the perfect manager for our car wash. She attracts customers by the hordes but still maintains order with her no bullshit attitude.
“I’m so glad I hired you, neighbor girl.”
She rolls her eyes, sticking her hands in her pockets. “You didn’t. And why do you still call me that? I don’t even live next to you anymore.”
“So? You’ll always be neighbor girl to me. Now, what can I do for you?”
“Paige.”
My eyebrows skyrocket and I sputter like an Oldsmobile. “I said what, not who, Angie. Don’t tell me you and Coty turned into swingers since you two moved out.” I hang my head, shaking it. “You can take the freaks out of Creekwood, but…”
“You’re an idiot.”
I cover my heart, blinking my eyes at her and deadpanning, “You continue to wound me when I specifically asked you not to.”
She ignores me, shooting her gaze over to Marc. “A little birdy told me it’s Paige’s birthday this weekend.”
A frown erases all my humor. Like all of it. How the fuck did he know that information and I didn’t?
“Coty and I want to throw her a party.”
I’m already shaking my head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I get the feeling she’s not close with her family.”
Angela’s doubtful expression has me questioning that now, too.
“Okay…well, we can keep it small then. A barbecue maybe. We’ll call it a housewarming party or some crap.” She waves her hand, still unfamiliar with domesticated life.
“What do you need from me?”
Simply, too simply, she says, “To get her there.”
I curb my scoff.
“What makes you think she’d listen to me?”
After maintaining a staring contest that borders on uncomfortable, she shrugs and turns away, muttering, “I’ll get Marc to do it.”
Like fuck she will.
“Fine.” Little rat. “What time do you want her there?”
Angie spins with a pleased grin plastered to her pretty face. Coty is one lucky dude even if his girl gives me as much shit as I give her. I wouldn’t have it any other way though. Only the strongest survive around here. And the toughest thrive. Like those two.
She gives me the rest of her orders—I mean, instructions—then disappears back to the wash side.
Marc and I make eye contact after she’s gone and he shakes his head.
“What?”
“She’s back, huh?”
I shrug tightly, squirting some liquid dish soap into my palm. “Looks that way to me,” I say, rubbing the soap over the skin on my hands until it’s dry. It makes cleaning my hands afterward a fucking dream. No mechanic hands for me. Fuck that. I like my shit smooth and moisturized.
Dude just nods thoughtfully.
“You know something I don’t?” Like her fucking birthday that he didn’t bother sharing. I remember her talking about it being this month but she never specified what day. We are starting to run out of days in July so it makes sense it’s coming up. But still…he could’ve said something.
“I already told you, ask her yourself. Quit being a fucking pussy.”
I thought I did. About what I really wanted to know anyway. I came right out and asked Paige if she was hooking up with my boy. And she finally gave me what I was looking for. What I’d been wondering since the day she moved in. The answer to the question I’d been dreading asking but ultimately did for the sake of my mental stability from not knowing. I’d resisted putting my mouth on her long enough. I was done waiting. And goddamn, the kiss was worth the awkwardness of asking at all.
“You heading out to Vega’s?”
“Yeah.”
“To work?”
He gives me a cryptic look then without another word, he jumps in his red BMW and takes off. July being one of their busiest months, his dad’s farm has needed him onsite almost daily and it just so happens that’s where we keep our dirt bikes, too. Can’t say I blame him for taking full advantage from time to time. When we were younger, the three of us used to get lost for hours in his father’s orchards, riding until the sun went down. Just three dejected kids trying to find their happy in life.
The landscape might’ve changed in the past few years but the quest for happiness sure hasn’t. Not for me at least. Watching Marc leave, I’d be willing to bet dude’s still searching, too. He never wants to end up trapped like his dad is to his farm but I don’t know what he actually does want.
Coty’s the only one I can look at and say he’s undeniably happy. Yeah, he wants marriage and kids one day but Angela will give that to him and more. She just makes him prove his worth every chance she gets because she still questions hers.
Fucking bad parents.
There should be a special kind of hell for people that fuck up their kids with their own issues. One with planes full of crying babies and floors covered with LEGO blocks. My dad used to bitch about both. Angie’s mom would make the perfect candidate if it did exist. The damage she caused her youngest daughter will take years, if not longer, to reverse. She’s made great progress so far but once a parent grabs hold with their vile beliefs and toxic ways, it’s hard to shake free from the decay they’ve triggered.
Or maybe that’s just my experience.
Shit, mine’s prob
ably there already, sipping on her favorite white wine, having a grand ol’ time. Anything but be with her son, right? Hell itself holds more appeal to a woman that self-centered than her own family. The one she started, then abandoned.
I shake off the disturbing thoughts bubbling to the surface. Luckily, they disperse as quickly as they formed and I move over to the Sportster still in pieces inside my station from last night. Unable to focus on anything other than Paige and where she might’ve been, I left early.
With the knot now missing from the pit of my stomach, I dig in for a full day’s work with more energy than I’ve had all week.
* * *
“I needed this,” I say as I scan the canyon below. It’s crazy. You wouldn’t even know an entire storm rolled through last night. The wind kicked up after lunch and there’s a thick haze that settled over the trees from the loose dust blowing around. Everything seems…calm.
But isn’t that usually before the storm?
After a gnarly ass ride on some winding back roads, followed by a ripper of a curve, Coty led us to this piece of land near his, just a little higher up on the mountain overlooking the entire area. It’s a cherry spot for anyone who’s into that kind of thing, like a starter family or something.
Coty had this dream of me and Marc buying the properties surrounding his so we could all live close to each other. Unfortunately, some big shot snatched up all the lots but the one Coty brought me to today. Pretty sure that’s why we’re here now. Dude’s relentless. But if that’s really the plan, then Marc will get first pick, not because he’s ready to settle down, but because I’d never be the greedy one to split us up.
Let that shit hang over his head for the rest of his life.
Plus, fun Uncle Beckett could couch surf like nobody’s business. Marc’s way too good of a person to make sleep on a couch which is exactly why he deserves the property over me.
Although, if Coty got his wish, this location would be perfect for me. I could look out over my boys and their lives and know that all is well. That everyone is exactly where they’re supposed to be.
I like that idea.
I like it too much.
“How’s married life by the way?” I nod at the newly finished house in the distance, the one we had to keep from Angie for almost a year while Coty had it built in secret. Worst year ever. I hate keeping secrets. Well, good ones anyway. “Ready to move back yet?”
Coty, atop his matte black R6, adjusts his gloves, chuckling. “As much as I miss living with you guys, I never want to be without Angela again.” Sucker.
Even though I give him a hard time, Coty’s one of the best people out there. Period. He’s worked his ass off to be the opposite of what he was shown growing up. His dad is what I refer to as a shitbag. He sleeps with his students—college age students—while he’s…wait for it…married.
Yeah, guy’s a total douchebag and I pretty much hate him. We all do. We took a vote and everything. That’s one thing we all agree on, hands down, no matter what, set in stone with a layer of shiny epoxy over the top. Once you’re taken, like for real taken, it’s fucking end game.
Basically, thou shall not commit fuckery. Ever.
And Coty’s dad is a wasteland of fuckery. A wasteland with only one remaining resident who refuses to leave—Coty’s mom.
Sometimes I wonder if my dad knew about my own mom’s affair before she took off and just did the same thing Coty’s mom did. Just stuck it out.
I hope not.
“I didn’t really think my old room was up for grabs anyway.” His eyes widen with emphasis. “She show up yet?”
I bob my head. “Yeah, she’s back. Don’t know for how long but she was there today when I left.”
Which is kinda weird in itself since I never see her before I leave for work. She gets out later, once I’m already at the shop. What’s that about?
“Marc said she works crazy hours. What does she do again?”
“She hasn’t really said but I dropped her off at an old folks’ home or some shit once.”
“Have you asked her?”
What the fuck? He’s the second person today to give me shit about asking Paige personal questions. Won’t the girl just tell me when she feels like it? Why do I have to go around digging into her business?
Obnoxious laughter, complete with snorting like a hopped up pig, has me side-eyeing my best friend.
“You don’t know how to pursue a girl, do you? Like ‘can I hold your hand, I want to date you’ pursue her.”
The fuck? “Who said I wanted to hold her hand and date her?”
The girl has made her place at the apartment—I guess—and yeah, she’s taken up residence in my mind. Hell, she’s even made an impression on my body that just won’t quit but that’s it. I mean, I missed Paige but not enough to date her.
I just like knowing she’s safe. And not in some other joker’s arms. But that’s my gentlemanly nature shining through. I deserve a fucking medal, not a relationship.
“If I remember correctly, you weren’t exactly Mr. Chatterbox when neighbor girl showed up.” In fact, he barely spoke at all—to any of us. He was wound tighter than a steering wheel running low on steering fluid.
“Are we talking soul mates now?”
“Soul mate, huh? Does Angie know that?”
Coty sobers, pinning me with a look to say flatly, “She knows.”
Yeah, but…knowing it and admitting are not the same and I’d bet good money Angela wouldn’t come out and say some simp ass shit like that. Only my pussy whipped friend would.
He covers his mass of dark hair with his matching black helmet before lifting the visor to say, “Marc was right. You’ve got your head so far up your own ass, you don’t know which way is up. Here’s some advice though, wherever she is, that’s up.”
I raise my hand like I’m back in school. “Uh, for clarification purposes, who’s the she in this far-fetched, totally unbelievable scenario? Like which one exactly? Imma need you to clarify.”
It gets real quiet after that, neither of us talking, then just when I think he’s not going to answer, he says, “The one that makes you want to be better. Even if you have to reveal the worst version of yourself just so you have a shot at being the best version. For her.”
“Bro,” I shake my head, putting my own helmet on and making sure to open the visor as well even though this conversation officially drags, “you lost me at ‘the,’ okay?”
Thank fuck we have technicians trained in customer relations because Coty would make a shit salesperson. Whatever my man’s selling, I definitely ain’t buying. That sounds exhausting and not enjoyable in any way. People willingly sign up for that?
Hard pass.
“All I’m saying is make sure you’re ready, man, because when it happens, you’ll be in for the climb of your fucking life.”
Dude starts his bike, revving the engine a few times and I follow suit, wanting to be done already.
“What if I like where I am?”
His eyes meet mine over the roar of our machines.
“Do you?”
My stare moves to the land below one last time. Sounds simple enough. Do I like where I am? Theoretically? Yes. Sure. I have a job I’ve dreamed about since I mounted my first dirt bike, financial stability most people my age wish they had, friends that I trust, family I chose, a dope apartment I share with one of my brothers and a smoking hot roommate.
Realistically though? I don’t know. Lately it feels like I’m missing something. But what if that something was never really there for me to miss in the first place? What if I’m not set up for more? What if I’m not equipped to climb, as Coty put it? By no means am I afraid of hard work, but I’ve never had to exert myself for anyone else. I’ve always thought that by staying put, never moving forward or backward, the right person would find me when the time came. If they were looking.
We bump knuckles, saying our usual motto of “ride it” before pulling back onto the main road out of h
ere. Ride life, don’t let it ride you. Is that what I’ve really been doing?
He pulls off toward his house shortly after, jerking a nod in my direction, then I head for the apartment.
With the sun at my back, the sky before me looks like a painting with purple giving way to pink as it blends into orange and Coty’s words stay with me no matter how hard I lay on the gas. What a load of shit suggesting I gotta climb. Climb where? If anything, women flock to me. He should know. He’s seen the evidence himself. Everyone has. That’s how I’ve always been. It’s simple logic, really. If I stay in one place, I’m easier to find.
But isn’t that what I’ve been doing with my mom all these years? Waiting for her to put in the work. Scared of what I’ll find should I actually put myself out there.
That’s not something you just get over. Especially not for that one person, whoever that may be.
Back at Creekwood, I notice Paige’s CBR still in the same spot it was this morning so I park as quickly as I can just in case it shit the bed again. She might be waiting for a ride to work and I can intercept—if needed. Judging from the losers she insists on bringing around, it’ll definitely be needed.
What I don’t expect to find is Paige asleep on the couch when I open the door however. Her hair is piled on top of her head in some sort of crazy mess and a throw blanket is pulled up around her shoulders. Bare feet and jean-covered legs are peeking out the bottom as she lies on her side.
I contemplate waking her since she’s clearly not ready for work but Marc comes out, stopping me as he motions me over.
“Should we wake her?” I ask quietly, joining him in the kitchen.
His head shakes as he grabs a Gatorade from the fridge. “We ate dinner.” My teeth clench so tight I think a filling pops out. “Then she passed out watching a movie. She said something about having some time off so I covered her up and let her sleep.” What a perfect gentleman. Dick. “There’s some leftovers if you’re hungry. She made kabobs and rice.”