Resilient

by Gillian Archer

  “How long have you guys been married?”

  “You should know. You were there. Eighteen years in June.”

  “And where are those kids you always talked about having?”

  “Why the hell are you asking me that? I wanna talk about Derrick’s horrible job history, not our fucking family planning.”

  I swear to God I loved my sister, but sometimes she drove me fucking crazy. “Just answer the goddamn question.”

  “I don’t know. For a while there it felt like I already had a kid since I spent so much time raising you.” She smirked and threw me a fake glare. “You were such a wily little shit.”

  I returned her fake glare. “And after I finished ruining your life?”

  “I don’t know. It was too early at first, and then it just never seemed like the right time. Derrick has such a hard time holding a job. Money’s always been tight. It just never worked out.”

  “So not because you didn’t want kids? Or Derrick?”

  “No.” She was quiet for a minute, then said quietly, “He pushed for us to have some after we’d been married a few years, but I kept saying not now. After a while, he stopped asking.”

  “It had nothing to do with Derrick sitting on his ass all the time and you being afraid that you’d be raising your kids all by yourself? Or that he’d leave you?”

  Christy narrowed her eyes at me. “You think you’re such a smart little shit, but I know better. I’ve seen your report cards.”

  I stared determinedly at my sister. “Why do your fictitious kids deserve better than you do?”

  “Ah…” Christy blinked a few times and cleared her throat. “What are you—I don’t think…”

  “Why are you protecting kids that aren’t even here from their shitty father? You’d be a great fucking mom, Christy. Hell, you practically raised me since Mom was working all the time. You can’t keep wasting your life waiting for that asshole to suddenly be worthy of you.”

  Shocked silence vibrated the room. I thought I’d reached Christy, but judging by her flushed face and what came out of her mouth next, I’d failed. Miserably.

  “What gives you the fucking right to judge my marriage? Are you married? Hell, have you even had a relationship longer than a fucking week since you divorced Abby? Maybe you need to get your shit together before you start psychoanalyzing mine.” Christy stood up, grabbed her purse, and stormed over to the front door. “Giving up isn’t as easy for some of us as it is for you.”

  “That’s fucking below the belt and you know it, Chris. I tried with Abby. I tried a lot longer than any sane man would’ve. You can’t make a marriage work when only one person wants to be in it.”

  “I guess that’s the difference between me and you: I don’t give up on the people I love.”

  The front door slammed so hard behind her it bounded back open.

  “Son of a bitch!” I picked a glass up off the coffee table and hurled it against the wall. It landed with a crash and shattered into little pieces. I didn’t give up on shit. I served our country until I was medically discharged. That wasn’t me giving up. I stayed with Abby through a ton of bullshit not many men would forgive—until she’d done the unforgiveable. Everyone had a fucking breaking point, but that didn’t make me a goddamn quitter.

  All my euphoria over the upcoming “holiday” weekend was long gone.

  “Fuck!” I kicked the side of the recliner, but it hardly moved. Right now more than anything, I wanted to find some Saddletramps and kick a lotta ass. Anger coursed through my blood until I could practically taste it. Unfortunately for me, I had to get to work. Instead I vented my anger with a few shouted curses. “Goddammit! Bunch of motherfucking bullshit! Fuck!”

  I heard a whimper coming from the kitchen, and the sound jerked me out of my temper tantrum. Crossing over to the entryway, I called out, “Stella? Come here, puppy. It’s okay. Nothing’s wrong. I’m not mad at you.”

  Since she’d gone blind from the cataracts, any loud noises—thunder, garbage trucks, or my occasional blowups—scared the crap outta her. Sure enough, when I entered the kitchen I found her cowering under the kitchen table.

  “Shit,” I cursed under my breath. The sight of Stella quivering because I’d spooked her drained the anger out of me like nothing else could. Stella didn’t need this on top of all her other shit, and certainly not from me. After some cajoling on my part and the lure of wet dog food, I finally got Stella out from under the table. Ten minutes later she was fed, medicated, and tucked in for the night with plenty of water.

  And I was off to work my shift at the door of Lux. The entire ride over I kept replaying Christy’s words to me. Logically I knew she was only lashing out, but her dig fucking stung. After all the shit I’d gone through with Abby, Christy knew more than most that I’d been in a miserable fucking marriage. Hell, she was the one who’d helped me find a lawyer and get all the paperwork together to file the fucking divorce in the first place. And then Christy had spent the next six months telling me how she knew from the get-go that my marriage would never work—how she’d seen from the beginning that Abby was a manipulative bitch and how I was better off without her.

  Where was that Christy?

  My anger simmered beneath the surface and must’ve been apparent, because during my first break Bumper cornered me.

  “What the fuck crawled up your ass and died?” Bump asked me as I stood at the bar with a Coke in hand.

  I turned my scowl his direction. “Nice to fucking see you, too, asshole. How’s the new job?”

  “Can’t complain. The pay is good, the chicks are hot, and this is so much easier than rewiring a Harley.” Bumper wiped the bar top next to me with a damp cloth. After the shop burned down, the guys who’d been working there got spread throughout the club’s other businesses. Bumper, being a natural-born bullshitter, was perfect at the bar. He charmed the ladies while being a bro to the guys, and the tips just rolled in. It was only his third day on, and I was pretty sure he was already the most popular bartender in Reno.

  “I’ll have to take your word for it.”

  Bumper filled a few shot glasses on a tray with tequila and glanced at me. “Which part? The wiring or the hot chicks?”

  “Fuck me. Both? Either? Take your pick.” I wouldn’t touch a wiring job with a ten-foot pole. And, to be honest, I hadn’t spotted one hot chick tonight. They all kinda looked like Abby—bleached blondes with overblown makeup and bitch written all over their faces.

  Bumper tossed a few limes in a glass bowl, then winked at the cocktail waitress as she picked up the loaded tray. “The fuck you say. The talent in here is huge—the waitresses are hot, the clientele is out of this world. This is fucking adult Disneyland. And they pay us to be here. They’re gonna have to drag me back to that dusty old shop. I don’t ever wanna leave. What the fuck is your problem?”

  “Family shit. Whatever.” I shrugged.

  “Huh, you wanna talk about it?”

  “Why, so our periods can sync up?” I sneered. “Screw you.”

  “Hey, man, you came to my end of the bar.” Bumper held his palms up. “You could’ve spent your break all alone in the back room, moaning on the phone to your girlfriend, but instead you’re here scaring away all the hot chicks with your fucking ugly face.”

  I relaxed a bit and let out a little chuckle. When laid back, surfer-y looking Bumper tried to be tough, it was just funny as hell. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

  “Looks like a duck, quacks like a duck, but if you say it’s a swan, I’ll believe you.” Bumper snickered.

  “It’s just a bunch of different shit.” I took a long swallow of my Coke, then stared at the condensation running down the glass. “Tell me something. Have you ever had a happy relationship?”

  “I can guarantee that blonde over there will be walking away with a smile on her face tomorrow morning,” Bumper said as he grinned at the woman in question.

  I tossed a look over my shoulder as said blonde grinned unabashe
dly back and started to walk over to our end of the bar. Knowing a lost cause when I saw one, I pushed my barstool back and stood up. “Later, Bumper.”

  “No, man, wait. Is that really what’s got your panties in a bunch?”

  I glared in reply. I should’ve known better than to try having a somewhat deep conversation with Bumper.

  “There are plenty of guys in the club who are happy with their old ladies. Zag and Reb are happier than monkeys with a peanut machine. Those two were grinning so hard at the wedding last weekend. You’d thought they won Megabucks the way they look at their women.”

  I shook my head. Bumper had such an eloquent way with words. “Zag and Reb haven’t been with their ladies long enough to count.”

  “So what, you’re looking for a fairy-tale happily-ever-after story? With a biker?” Bumper scratched his sideburns. “Bootleg’s been with his woman for, what, five years? And what about Stitch? Him and Brittany have been together forever. And they’re still going at it like rabbits. You should’ve seen them on the dance floor after you carted Nicole away. If that don’t bring a tear to your eye, nothing will.”

  The blonde Bumper had been flirting with pressed her breasts against the bar next to me. “Can I get a Slippery Nipple?”

  Bumper tossed a wink to me, then answered the blonde. “Coming right up.”

  “Thanks, Bump.” I left him to his flirting as I pushed away from the bar and returned to my post.

  I don’t know why I was getting all emo tonight. It didn’t help that I was surrounded by so much sexual tension. Women looking to hook up, guys looking to score, Bumper charming chicks left and right. It was frustrating. Usually I enjoyed looking at all the eye candy, but everywhere I looked tonight I saw Abby’s face. That cajoling expression she used when she tried to get her way was on all the girls waiting to get in. A redhead at the door had the mutinous pout Abby used when I pissed her off. The last time I’d seen it, it’d been accompanied with a knife. Fuck, that woman was vicious.

  And so very different from Nicole.

  I didn’t know what to do about her. The past week we’d been texting on my breaks. I can’t even remember why we’d started that first time. We were supposed to be easy and casual, but it was starting to feel anything but casual. And I wasn’t sure if I deserved more.

  My mind was a clusterfuck.

  When the end of my shift finally came around, I texted Stitch: Need to talk. You still up?

  From Stitch: Yup

  Great. On my way.

  From Stitch: Awesome. The more the merrier.

  What the fuck did that mean?

  I guess I’d find out when I got there. So I stashed my phone in my jacket pocket and rode toward Stitch’s house in south Reno.

  Chapter 17

  Nicole

  SEPTEMBER 25

  “What does that clock say? It can’t be one in the morning.” I moaned and held my head in my hands. “Shit, I’m gonna have to call in drunk to work tomorrow.”

  Brittany cracked up on the couch next to me. “Whatever you do, do not say that when you call your boss.”

  “Oh Lord, that wouldn’t go over well with Valentina.” I laughed so hard that I might’ve snorted. I was really drunk if I’d entered the snort-laughing stage. “Damn, what am I gonna do, Brit?”

  “You have sick time, right? Just claim a flu or something. You don’t have time to sober up before eight a.m.”

  “I know how to call in drunk to work.” I toasted my statement with another slurp of the wicked concoction Brittany had whipped up when I came over brokenhearted a few hours ago. “I meant about my mom. I don’t know what to say to her or to my brother. This is gonna kill him.”

  Brittany grew solemn as she frowned. “I don’t know, hon. That’s a hard one. I can’t say that I’ve ever had to deal with a similar situation. I know that as a mom, I don’t get to have a say when it comes to who my kids are going to date. They’re gonna do what they’re gonna do. And it sounds like you and your mom are pretty tight. Can you really see yourself cutting your mom out of your life?”

  I could practically feel the wound just thinking about never seeing or talking to my mom again. “I don’t think so,” I whispered.

  “Maybe you should wait for her to come to you. Give it a little time for all the emotions to calm down. She’ll come around. She left him once already, right?”

  “Because he went to jail for manslaughter,” I answered bitterly. “Had nothing to do with her finding the courage to leave him—the state of California did that for her.”

  “But she still uprooted you and your brother to move a whole state away—to a place where you guys didn’t know anyone all while supporting two kids on her own—that takes a ton of balls. Your mom is a strong person. I bet she’ll figure it out sooner than you think.”

  As Brittany’s sage words sank in, I contemplated the amber liquid in my glass. “How do you do it? How do you stay with Stitch when you know the kind of things they do?”

  An awkward silence strained between us for a moment, and then my brain caught up with my mouth. I immediately started backpedaling. “I’m so sorry. That came out wrong. I swear I don’t judge you or Emily or Jessica. I’m sure your guys are completely different from my dad. I don’t know where that came from.”

  Still Brittany didn’t say anything.

  “Clearly I’ve had too much to drink. Maybe I should call an Uber before I completely ruin our friendship.” I put my drink down on the coffee table, then grabbed my phone and mumbled, “If I haven’t done that already.”

  “Nicole, stop. It’s okay.” Brittany set her glass on the coffee table with a click as I frantically searched my phone for my car ride app. And then I remembered how Tank had screwed my passenger ranking when he’d told my driver to “fuck off” last weekend. I doubted anyone would be willing to pick me up at this time of night without charging an arm and a leg. I was about to call a taxi company when Brittany grabbed my wrist. “Seriously, girl. It’s okay.”

  I heaved a huge sigh as I blinked back tears. “Really?”

  “Yes, and you’re cut off, by the way. When you get all truth-telling and weepy, it’s clearly a sign you’ve had too much booze.” She grabbed my drink and poured it into hers. “As for me, on the other hand, I’ve got a good two more drinks to go before I get all teary and truth-spewing.”

  “I’m sorry. I just—all this shit with my family and then I’ve been texting with Tank every night and—”

  “Wait, what? Back up there a minute. You’ve been texting with Tank?”

  I nodded.

  “Every night?”

  I nodded again.

  “How the hell did that happen?”

  “I don’t know. He texted me out of the blue on Monday, and we’ve been texting back and forth—mostly right before I go to bed. He’s been all sweet, and I’m starting to learn some stuff about him. And I don’t know…He’s deeper than I thought.”

  “You like him!”

  “Shut up!”

  “You do! Nicole and Tank sittin’ in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g. First comes love, then—”

  “Oh my God. You did this to me.”

  Brittany sat up from her slouch with a confused expression that I totally wasn’t buying. “Huh?”

  “You set me up. You deliberately shoved me into Tank’s path that night at the rehearsal dinner.”

  “Nooooooo. Hell no. I do not set people up. I’ve seen that kinda shit ruin friendships when people see who you think they’d click with. Feelings get hurt because he’s not hot enough or she has a weird laugh. It hardly ever ends well. I did nothing.”

  “You totally did.”

  “Did. Not. I swear. You guys had already met each other, remember? You said you had all that crazy sexual chemistry when Jessica made you run errands with her and Tank. I couldn’t have set you guys up.”

  “Fine, you didn’t set us up, but you pushed me at him that night.”

  “Because you said you wanted ‘a one-and-d
one kinda thing.’ What happened to ‘I don’t have time in my life for a steady relationship’?” Brittany’s eyebrows reached her bangs as she did a very unfortunate voice impersonation of me.

  I really hoped I didn’t sound like that. “You know what happened—you were at the wedding, weren’t you? Or were you too busy dry humping Stitch on the dance floor to see Tank cart me out of the reception room?” I teased.

  “It’s not called dry humping when you’re forty-one. I think technically it’s called a miracle, considering we’ve been married almost twenty years.”

  “Whatever. Everyone saw the way we left the wedding. It’s just…electric between us. And I don’t know what to do.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m confused. Why is this even a worry? You guys have amazing chemistry. You’re two awesome people who deserve each other. What’s there to worry about?”

  “Because he’s a biker.” I might as well have screamed my answer the way the walls vibrated with silence after I spoke.

  Brittany just stared at me like I’d slapped her.

  I started babbling again. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong. But it’s just…After my dad went to prison, I swore I’d never be stupid over a guy like my mom was.”

  “And it’s ten times as bad because he’s a biker. Like your dad.”

  “Yeah.”

  “But that’s where you’re wrong, sweetie. These guys, my guys in the True Brothers, are nothing like your one-percenter father. Sure, they get their hands dirty now and then, but they’re all good, honest, hardworking men who want to come home to their women and families at the end of the day. They never dish shit out to anyone who doesn’t deserve it. They’re not about protecting territory, or illegal drugs and guns bullshit. They just wanna ride, fuck, and live free.”

  I nodded slowly as I listened to Brittany’s defense of the True Brothers. I knew they weren’t self-proclaimed one-percenters. But that didn’t make it any easier to let Tank into my heart. After a minute I bit my lip and whispered, “It’s still scary.”