Where Souls Spoil

by Jc Emery

  “Oh no. Don’t you start speaking WOP to me.” He breaks out in a full smile now. He’s always so serious and quiet, fading into the background, when I’m around. I can’t help the smile that overtakes my face at the sight of Ian so relaxed for once. “You’re talking to me,” I say, a little surprised.

  “Don’t think this means we’re best friends or something.”

  Rolling my eyes at him, I try to keep the mood playful, even if the nerves in my stomach feel like they’re about to go Chernobyl on me. I might need to sleep for a year after the day I’ve had. “Don’t worry, the position’s been filled.”

  “So I’ve heard. Just don’t go taking any cues from her. I don’t want to have to kick a brother’s ass for fucking around with you.” Biting my lip, I look down, and the entire room goes silent. All of the shame and guilt floods to the surface in this moment. Ian’s laughter dies immediately, and Jim clears his throat. I can’t see them, but I can feel all of their eyes on me.

  “What’s going on here?” Jim asks. Pushing off the counter, he comes to stand beside me. Gently lifting my chin, he says, “What happened?”

  I fight to keep the tears at bay, and succeed, but just barely. “Nothing. Ryan doesn’t want me. You don’t have anything to worry about,” I say. Jim’s gaze is cold, not even remotely surprised. Of course, what an idiot I am—Jim knows damn well that Ryan would never trade in his patch for some stupid little girl.

  Squeezing past Jim, I cross the kitchen and rush down the hall to my bedroom. Just as I cross the threshold, I shut the door behind me, leaning against it. The pressure on my chest weighs heavily, and my heart beats loudly in my ears. Sliding down the door, my butt hits the floor, and I curl into myself. A rustling noise alerts me to movement on my bed. PJ stands on all fours from the center of my bed and yawns. Her short, floppy ears twitch, her head tilts sideways, and her wispy tail swings so furiously her butt wiggles from side to side. Patting my knee, I welcome her over. Excitedly, she bounds forward, leaping off the bed and crashing into my legs upon landing. I wrap my arms around her wiggling body and give her a smile.

  Movement sounds on the other side of the door. Curiosity gets the best of me, and I shush PJ, commanding her to lie down on the floor. Ever the obedient dog, she does as directed, but her excited eyes stay focused on me. Turning toward the door, I place my ear against the wood and close my eyes. My room is the only bedroom on this end of the house, sandwiched between the kitchen and the rec room. People rarely ever pass by my door.

  “Leave her alone, babe,” Jim says in a whisper.

  I hear Ruby hmph and say, “She’s upset, Jim. She needs me. When I see Ryan, I’m going to tear him a new asshole.”

  “You don’t even know what happened.”

  “Does it matter? She’s upset, and he did it. That’s enough for me,” she hisses quietly. I strain to hear over PJ’s excited panting.

  “Calm down, Mama Bear. Your cub is fine.”

  “She better be,” she snaps and stomps down the hall.

  “Fucking women,” Jim mutters. “And I know you can hear me,” he says a little louder. My eyes widen for a moment before I respond.

  “Yeah, well, you’re in front of my door,” I say back, loudly. PJ jumps to attention, pressing her nose to the closed door, and whimpers at the sound of Jim’s departing laughter. I give PJ a grumpy look. Her body jerks forward, tail wagging once more, and then stops.

  “Kisses,” I say, giving into her pathetic blue eyes. She darts forward and covers my face in slobber. Keeping my eyes closed, I giggle uncontrollably at the loving assault. It’s hard to be upset about everything else when PJ gets going. I’ve never had a pet until now, but now that I have her, I can’t imagine being without her. It’s amazing how kind and loving animals can be while humans can be so cruel and heartless.

  Far too emotionally spent, I decide to skip the shower and instead opt for crashing for the night. It’s well past two in the morning, and my body is giving out on me. I don’t even worry about changing my clothes as I open my bedroom door a crack and crawl into my bed. Kicking my shoes off and patting the bed for PJ to follow, I snuggle into my pillow and close my eyes. The weight of everything—Jim’s orders, Ryan’s behavior, the way he felt inside me, the way he purposefully humiliated me in front of the club—slam into the forefront of my mind. PJ crawls in beside me, and I drift off chanting in my head, I will not cry.

  Chapter 20

  Mother love is the fuel that enables a normal human being to do the impossible.

  Marion C. Garretty

  MORNING COMES WAY too early. After a fitful night’s sleep, I’m not ready to be up yet, but my mind is slowly waking. I try, and fail, to block the words that have assaulted my mind since the moment they were said.

  Your pussy’s good, but it ain’t that good.

  No excuse to be a rat.

  Do you want me to stop?

  Harsh sunlight streams through my bedroom window, covering me in its warmth. Stretching out my legs and arms, I find myself sandwiched. Blocked on both sides by fur, I blindly pat my bed mates down, finding PJ’s short double coat on my left and Tegan’s long coat on my right. Tegan whimpers at my assault and rustles around immediately, then settles back in. When she’s awake, she’s sharp as a tack, but asleep, she’s useless. PJ stands immediately, looks around, barks loudly, and then rushes out of the room at warp speed.

  Blinking my eyes open, I groan at the discomfort of the first sight of the bright sun. Letting out a heavy yawn, I fold my hands over my stomach and stare up at the ceiling. Classic rock blares from the other room, the bass so loud it vibrates the retro ‘70s light fixture that hangs from my ceiling. This isn’t exactly abnormal around here. Anytime Ruby cooks, she blasts the massive stereo system in the kitchen, no matter what time it is. And don’t even get me started on her music choices when she makes her special baked goods.

  Laughter sounds down the hallway, getting nearer, then Ruby busts in, all smiles. With a spatula in one hand and an oven mitt covering the other, her caramel brown hair is shoved up in a messy bun, and flour covers her black tank top and dark blue jeans. Pulling myself up on my elbows, I give her my best smile. It isn’t much after the day I had yesterday and the awful sleep I had last night.

  “Today’s kind of a big day, baby. But first, we have waffles, bacon, sausage, eggs, and toast.” She rattles off something about burnt waffles and a flour fight between the boys, but I hear almost none of it after she says Ryan’s name. My smile falls immediately, and my eyes narrow. Catching wind of my changing mood, she bounces in place before sliding into the room and shutting the door behind her.

  “We got a problem here?” she asks. I shrug and look to Tegan, who’s stretched out beside me, snoring. I’m just glad she’s facing the other way. She’s got some of the worst breath I’ve ever smelled.

  “It’s stupid,” I say.

  “It’s never stupid if it makes you sad,” she says. I roll my eyes and blow out a heavy breath. I know her well enough by now to know that she’s never going to let it go if I don’t just tell her.

  “Your step-son is an asshole,” I say with as much venom as I feel. The level of honesty I’m willing to exhibit in this moment surprises me a little. Ruby, Nic, the club, they’re all rubbing off on me, apparently.

  “Yeah, he is,” she admits. “I tried to steer him into non-asshole territory, but his genes prevailed. That one is just like his father.” She snickers and smiles sadly. I force myself to gift her a small laugh before I pull myself up into a full sitting position. Tegan finally wakes beside me, yawns, and scampers over to Ruby, where she sits at her feet.

  “How do you deal with it?” It’s something I’ve wondered since our second day in the van. Surrounded by so many men all of the time, being one of the only women in their world—still not totally inside their world. Ruby somehow manages to bring a feminine touch to the club that is at-once comforting and off-putting. If I think about it too much, I’ll worry about her now that
I know how awful Jim can be.

  “You just gotta know your place, baby. Jim gets to yelling, and I wait for him to finish. He gets to acting stupid, and I just wait for him to stop. But you better believe that when he shuts up, it’s me who has his ear. I let him be an asshole because it’s who he is. Lord knows that man has cared for me and mine in more ways than I’ve had any right to ever ask of him.”

  The music is abruptly cut off in the other room, and a moment later there’s two sharp knocks on my bedroom door that jar both Ruby and me out of our bonding moment. She moves away from the door and opens it. Towering over her shoulder, Jim looks between us. Flour stains his chest, and he wears a blank expression.

  “Speaking of you and yours,” he says, his eyes cutting to Ruby. I blush at the fact that he heard at least part of our conversation. These damn walls are paper thin. “It’s time we got this over with.” Ruby’s shoulders sink, and she shakes her head. “Now,” he says, in that baritone command I’m beginning to hate.

  “Time for breakfast and a family meeting,” Ruby says, her relaxed demeanor totally gone now. The last impromptu family meeting ended so well, I just can’t wait for this one. I just wish that when Jim said family meeting, I could pretend he was going to gripe about the way the toilet paper roll was put on the holder wrong. Taking a moment to compose myself from the impending fear that he knows what happened between Ryan and me last night, I crawl out of bed, only to remember that I’m still wearing yesterday’s clothes.

  “Oh, yuck,” I mutter. “Can I at least shower first?” Ruby’s face relaxes as she says yes, but it’s Jim’s retreating voice from down the hall that once again says ‘now’ that I listen to. A painful reminder of last night aches between my legs, and my back is stiff in a way it’s never been before. Even my hip, where Ryan had gripped me so tightly, aches. So this is what it feels like to be used up and hung out to dry.

  Making my way down the hall, followed by Ruby and PJ, I spot Ian and Ryan on the loveseat in the living room, neither looking my way. My steps falter before I suck up the courage to keep moving.

  I’m going to fuck you out of my system.

  And I suppose he did. The dirt and grim I feel on my skin and in the fabric of my clothes is one thing. I can handle feeling a little dirty. It’s the disgust and shame you can’t see that makes me want to pistol whip Ryan—maybe Jim, too. Ruby places her hand on my back and gently guides me into the living room, all thoughts of waffles and bacon forgotten. Ryan’s eyes snap to mine, then dip down to my clothes. Same jeans, same top that I was wearing when I did the walk of shame out of his bedroom last night. The moment of recognition hits and, very slowly, his eyes travel back up to mine. I can’t get a good read on him, but this is neither his angry face nor his sad face. Not that it matters.

  “Sit with me,” Ruby says, bringing me to the sofa. We sit down, and Jim pulls a chair in from the dining room, setting it down on Ruby’s other side. “I need to tell you a story, and I need you to listen. Okay?”

  I barely manage to nod. The way Ryan won’t stop staring at me, Ian won’t even acknowledge me, and Jim looks so sad is unnerving. Ruby angles her body toward mine and places a hand on my knee. Tears fill her eyes as she visibly fights to keep them at bay. She hasn’t even started her story yet, and I already feel nauseated.

  “I’ve fucked up a lot in my life. I’ve been selfish and mean. And the person I hurt the most was the one person who never did a cruel thing to anyone, not ever. My sister, she was always so quiet and kind, ya know?” Losing the battle with the tears, Ruby lets them stream down her cheeks unabashedly. None of the men in the room dare to move.

  “I’ve always been reckless, never thinking how I hurt her. And I didn’t mean to hurt her, please believe me. You have to believe me. I just wanted better than I had, that’s all. I shouldn’t have been so horrible to her.” Her voice breaks. Jim reaches a soothing hand out to her shoulder, calming her shaky tears. I don’t know what to make of this conversation and the message she’s trying to convey. She keeps talking, though it’s jagged. She talks about her relationship with my mother. Eventually, the tears slow, and her breathing regulates some.

  “Your Aunt Gloria was my best friend. We used to get in so much trouble together.” Memories flood my brain, of that last night Gloria and I spent together. She sat me down and had a similar conversation with me. Nothing makes any sense. Gloria talked about my mother like she had this spirit, this whole charming personality that just radiated. She said my mother was her best friend, but the woman Gloria described is nothing like the mother I knew—even before the cancer made her so frail. The woman Ruby describes is exactly as I remember my mother to be—quiet, obedient, kind.

  “Gloria used to take me around her neighborhood, showing me off to all the men she knew. They were always older, married. It wasn’t a big deal for these guys to take a goomah. She thought one of them could help me out. I had Ian, no education, and in that neighborhood, being some guy’s mistress was a couple of steps up from the welfare line.” An awful sickness churns in my gut. My father’s taken a few whores that I know of over the years. I know how it works. All of her apologies about my mother, and now this—I just want to block it out. If she’s going to tell me what I think she is, I’d rather not hear it. I respect her too much to hear that she was my father’s whore.

  “Did you have an affair with my father?” I bite out, shrinking away from her. A moment of regret washes over me. Curling into the corner of the sofa, I try to create as much distance between the two of us as possible. Her lip juts out as she covers her mouth and lets out a sob. Anger flashes through my limbs. My caring Aunt Ruby is a slut. I scrub my face with my hands, not even wanting to think about the way she betrayed my mother. Minutes pass as I try to process this information. Eventually, Ruby’s shaky voice breaks through my bubble of denial.

  “I was an awful sister. I was also a single mom with a kid I couldn’t afford. I made a horrible choice, but I need you to listen. Even if you hate me, this is something you need to hear.” My eyes shoot to hers, and I nearly crumple under the visible weight of her pain.

  “I got pregnant. I… wanted to keep my baby.” The world spins around me, my limbs shake, my lungs strain to pull in an adequate amount of air, and I’m beginning to wonder if I’m imagining things. “Your father pushed for an abortion until the babies were born. He’d been married to Esmeralda for a few years at that point, and they weren’t having any luck.”

  “What are you saying?” I shriek, unable to control my volume. My muscles tense in a painful contraction. “Why are you saying this?”

  “I am so sorry, baby. I loved you from the moment I knew you existed. I named you, I talked to you, I wanted you.” A hollow sob escapes my lips as my entire body begins to tremble. I choke out a cry, and then another. Somewhere in the distance of the destruction of my entire world, I see Jim move closer. He wraps his arms around a sobbing Ruby.

  But she’s not just Ruby, is she?

  She’s my mother.

  And I want to deny it. I want to call bullshit and tell her she’s done a few too many recreational drugs over the years, but somewhere in a dark recess of my heart, I believe her. Choked sobs turn to panicked cries as I wrap my arms around my legs and curl into myself. Every stupid fucking thing I used to care about ceases to matter. My ears pound, my face heats, my arms and legs go numb, and my chest strains under the heartbreak.

  My mother didn’t die in my father’s bedroom seven years ago. No, my mother abandoned me nineteen years ago. Michael. Why didn’t she save Michael from my father, too? Does she not love him? Is he not important to her? Revulsion sets in as I disentangle myself and move to stand on shaky legs. I have to catch myself on the arm of the sofa so I don’t fall right over.

  “You left me there,” is the first thing that comes out of my mouth. I let my voice rise, strangled and more painful the louder I get. “You left me in that house. You left Michael. Oh my God, Michael!”

  Ryan and Ian, wh
o are both watching me like hawks with matching sorrowful expressions, dart their eyes away when I look at them. “How could you let me grow up in that? Never having a choice? No chance to ever go to school? Nothing!”

  My anger is diluted only somewhat by Jim’s hulking frame rising from the sofa. With narrowed eyes and a firm expression on his face, he comes to stand before me. I try to back up and find I’ve hit the fireplace.

  “You gotta be mad, fine. Be mad,” he says. Wrapping his big hand around the back of my neck, he turns me so that I’m facing Ian. “But if you want to be mad at someone, be mad at that bastard you call a father. Look at your brother’s face. Look at it!” Jim gives me a slight shake, and despite Ian’s obvious discomfort, he doesn’t break from his position on the sofa, facing me head-on. Hearing Ian being referred to as my brother makes me want to freak out all over again, but I don’t dare. Not with Jim’s grip on my neck, gentle or not. Sniffling, I stare at Ian, wondering what he has to do with any of this. He moves just slightly, giving me a better view of his scar. The rolling sickness swings back into full force, and I have to count my breaths so I don’t get sick all over the hardwood.

  “What kind of sick bastard cuts a six year-old’s face open and threatens to kill him in front of his mother if he sees her again? Tell me, what choice do you think your mother had? You and Michael were safe. Ian wasn’t.” Turning me to face him and holding me by my upper arms, Jim crouches down to my level.

  “Have you ever asked yourself why I risked the life of every one of my men to get you out of there safely? Because there is only one thing that woman—” He jerks his head to Ruby. “—has ever asked of me—to promise I would make sure her children were safe. And after watching her spend fifteen years raising my boy, crying herself to sleep on your birthday, and waiting desperately for Gloria to call once a year for an update on you—the only thing she ever asked of me was to keep you safe. If that’s not being a mother, I don’t know what is.”