Forbidden Crush

by Cole, Cassie

  I washed my hands and then felt the folded towels on the shelf above the sink. They were super soft. “He did tell me to make myself at home,” I said to myself.

  The water of the shower was hot and perfect compared to the rain pouring down outside. I examined his bottle of shampoo—a brand called Aussie, which came in a purple bottle—and decided to wash my own hair with it. The suds smelled like fruit and flowers.

  Thunder boomed and shook the barn as I dried myself off on Hawk’s incredibly soft towels. That was something that made me smile: a hard biker on the outside, but soft towels and fruity shampoo in the privacy of his barn. Some men were more than what they appeared to be.

  My clothes were still wet from the rain, so I hung them up on the closet door to dry. With one towel wrapped around my body and another around my damp hair, I decided to explore the barn Hawk called a home. The closet was a single rack of shirts and jackets, with a tall hamper for dirty clothes on the ground. The laminate floors weren’t cheap; they looked like real hardwood planks until you got really close to them. I loved the way he’d strung lights across the rafters above, filling the huge space with amber light without being too bright. I’d already seen the bathroom, so I walked past it into a room that was divided away from everything else by a sliding door.

  It was a workshop type area. The floor was cobalt concrete instead of wood, and a steel workbench took up one long wall, which was covered with tools. Cylindrical oxygen tanks were stacked underneath the workbench. Hanging on hooks on the wall were a welding mask, work gloves thicker than oven mitts, and a split-leather apron. A torch device on the end of a rubber hose was coiled next to that.

  I was confused about what I was looking at until I turned to the other side of the workshop.

  Open-top barrels held long pieces of metal, like rebar without the ribbing. Each barrel held a different thickness of metal, from some which were as thin as spaghetti to others which were like big metal baseball bats.

  Next to the barrels was a piece of art made from the metal.

  It was a humanoid figure, standing on two legs and with a trapezoidal torso. Its bone-like arms and spider-like fingers were clasped in front of it like a figure in prayer, and the metal face was tilted back to stare at the roof of the barn.

  It was one of the pieces of art I’d seen around town!

  “Well look who has some secrets,” I said to myself while running my fingers along the joints. Imagining Hawk as an artistic man, bent over his work like Michelangelo chiseling marble, made me giggle. I couldn’t wait to tease him about it later.

  As if that wasn’t enough embarrassing ammunition, there was a framed certificate on the wall above one of the work benches. It was a stamped license:

  Certificate of Membership

  American Welding Society (AWS) Certifies that

  SIMONE J HAWKINS

  Is hereby designated an Affiliate Member

  January 2013

  “Simone,” I read out loud, grinning to myself. Way back on our second day working together, he’d sarcastically said his first name was Simone. Or at least, I’d assumed it was sarcasm.

  I was going to give him so much crap for this.

  In the other room, my phone rang. Thinking that it might be Hawk, I ran to get it. I was already thinking of a bunch of ways to tease him about his first name. But it wasn’t him.

  “Hi, Momma,” I said. “Do you mind if I call you back? I’m in the middle of something.”

  “Sweet pea!” she said over me. “I’ve got some good news. Your father talked to more of his old sheriff contacts.”

  “Momma, he didn’t have to…”

  “He found someone who might be able to talk to the Eastland judge and get the rest of your hours waved! Isn’t that amazing?”

  I winced. After what I knew now, the last thing I wanted was my dad sticking his neck into this corrupt town.

  “Charlotte? Are you there?”

  “Is that a good idea?” I said carefully. “I don’t want dad upsetting the wrong people on my account. It could be dangerous.”

  “What do you mean, the wrong people? Your father’s a former sheriff. How would he be in danger?”

  You don’t want to know, Momma.

  “I just don’t know if it’s worth it as this point,” I tried instead. “I’ve only got 72 hours remaining. I might as well finish it out, you know?”

  There was a pause on the other end. When she spoke, her tone was different. “Charlotte, I don’t understand. Last week you were adamant that we find away to get you home. After talking to dozens of other sheriffs, your father might have found a way. What’s changed?”

  I made myself sigh into my phone. “I guess I’ve just accepted my fate. I’ve been charged with a crime, and I need to do the work. Letting my dad come sweep me out of here feels like cheating, ya know?”

  There was another pause. I could feel Momma’s studious gaze through the phone, trying to decide whether or not to believe me. I always had a tough time lying to her. She saw right through me.

  “We’re still gonna come visit you this weekend, like we talked about,” she said.

  I cringed. “Ah, you don’t have to do that, Momma. It’s such a long trip…”

  “It’s an easy drive down I-16,” she said dismissively. “You’ve been trapped there over a week without a real home-cooked meal.”

  “The diner food is good!”

  “I want to see my daughter,” she insisted. “Is something wrong, Charlotte?”

  “No, nothing Momma. But I’ll be picking up extra community service hours, just like last weekend.”

  “Then we’ll take you out to dinner after. Some place nice.”

  There aren’t any nice places in Eastland. I needed to find a way to keep them from coming. If dad realized there were meth dealers moving product through Eastland, and even running the town itself, he would probably do something stupid.

  “I’m seeing Scott this weekend,” I blurted out.

  I felt my momma tense. “Oh?”

  “I was embarrassed about it, so I didn’t want to tell you. We’re sitting down to go over the food truck business, how to split it up. It’s going to be emotional, so I’d rather just be alone once he’s gone. Plus, I don’t want dad threatening to lock Scott away in a jail cell until he’s 75.”

  “Forget your father, I want a piece of that cheating fool!”

  I laughed. “See what I mean?”

  She sighed and said, “Yeah, I guess I do. I’m glad you’re finally handling your problems. I thought for sure you’d avoid them until you came home. I don’t know what’s gotten into you to make you so proactive, but I like it.”

  A man named Hawk. That’s what’s gotten into me.

  I hung up and sat on the bed, still wearing only a towel. I hated lying to my parents, but it was for their own good. This was something I had to take care of myself.

  Another peal of thunder sounded outside, farther away this time. It went on and on, like rolling thunder, until I realized that’s not what it was.

  I ran to the barn door and peered out into the darkness. Through the rain and trees I saw half a dozen headlights driving down the road. They slowed, then turned toward the barn. Pulling down the driveway.

  The Copperheads were here.

  27

  Charlotte

  Terror gripped my chest as I watched the bikes turn, one by one, down the driveway. I was all alone, and they were coming here.

  I closed the barn door. Instead of a traditional lock there was a latch bar that fell into place, but after a moment I pulled it back up. Locking the door from the inside would just let them know someone was inside.

  I grabbed my clothes off the door and looked for a place to hide. The loft area above the bathroom seemed best. I climbed the ladder with my clothes under one arm and then tossed them the rest of the way on top before peeking over the edge. The loft was filled with old boxes and dusty crates. Plenty of places to hide, unless they were searchin
g thoroughly.

  Outside, the bikes rumbled closer.

  I pulled myself the rest of the way onto the loft, but I was careless in my hurried state and knocked my bra off the edge. It landed on the ground, pink and damp and most certainly not belonging to Hawk.

  The bikes sounded like they were right outside, their engines louder than the rain pelting the roof. But if they saw my bra it would ruin everything Hawk was doing to try to keep our relationship a secret.

  I left my other clothes in the loft and climbed back down. Bra in hand, I was too panicked to climb back up, so I ran into the closet next to the bed. I shifted the big laundry bag and crouched down behind it, and prayed the Copperheads weren’t here to steal Hawk’s clothes.

  The barn door slid open and the bikers strode inside.

  From the closet I had a little rectangle of view above the laundry bag and below Hawk’s hanging shirts, showing me the bedroom area, the door to the bathroom, and the area in front of the door. One Copperhead strode into view, followed by another. Their boots sounded hollow and heavy on the laminate floor, echoing with danger. Sid was right behind the first two men, pulling back a rain hood and shaking out his dreadlocks. I felt my stomach turn at the sight. Very few white guys could pull off dreadlocks. Sid was nowhere close to being one of them.

  “He’s probably not here,” one of the men behind Sid said. “Truck’s gone.”

  Sid smiled as he looked around the room. “Check anyways. Maybe he finally took the truck in to get fixed.”

  My stomach sank as I realized something: they thought Hawk had stolen from them. They were probably going to turn his entire barn upside-down to look for it! I was a dead woman if they spent even a few minutes searching the barn.

  I reached for my phone automatically before remembering that I was only wearing a towel. Another pang of dread struck me. Where had I left my phone? I’d been talking to Momma, and when I hung up I put my phone down… Not on the bedside table. I was certain of that. I think I tossed it on the bed. If the Copperheads found it…

  Boots clomped as the men moved around the barn. One of them crouched to check under the bed, like an adult appeasing a child by searching for monsters. Another man went into the bathroom, and then came right back out.

  “Shit’s still wet. We must’ve just missed him.”

  “Where would he go this time of night?” another leather-clad biker wondered.

  Sid looked around the room, an amused grin on his face. “The cemetery. Crying over his poor baby sister.” He made his mouth into a mocking pout as he said it, and the men around him roared with laughter.

  I clenched my fist and told myself to remain silent.

  “Bathroom smells fruity,” the Copperhead said. “Feminine.”

  I tensed as Sid disappeared into the bathroom. He came out a minute later holding the half-empty bottle of shampoo. “You know Hawk. Always primping his hair.” He hurled the bottle across the room, where it smashed against the wall. Mauve-colored goop ran down the side where it had struck.

  Another Copperhead stepped in front of the closet. I made myself as small as possible as he shoved a few shirts to the side, but then he turned away without looking any harder.

  I was relieved, until he walked across the room and began climbing the ladder into the loft.

  My clothes.

  I wondered how hard of a look he would take. Would he examine the wet clothes long enough to tell they were a woman’s, or would he be more concerned with looking for Hawk behind the boxes? The panties were underneath the jeans, I thought. But I wasn’t certain.

  The man climbed the rungs slowly, nearing the top. From my closet vantage I could only see his feet. He picked one up to climb another rung…

  “Fuck this shit,” Sid announced impatiently. “Let’s go look at his bike.”

  Alone in the closet, I trembled with fear—and relief—as the Copperheads went back out into the rain.

  28

  Charlotte

  I couldn’t hear what they were doing outside. Everything was just a constant drone of the rain on the roof of the barn and the thunderclaps that hammered central Georgia. All I knew was that I only felt safe in the closet, huddled behind Hawk’s laundry bag like a terrified little mouse.

  Eventually the rumble of their motorcycles announced their departure. I don’t know how long it had been except that my knees ached from crouching in place for so long. Their gargling engine noises dimmed in the distance as they went down the driveway, onto the road, and away.

  Even still, I was too terrified to move for a few minutes longer. Just to be certain.

  I stretched and peeked out of the closet, then went to the door. They had left it open a crack, allowing me to peer out into the rain without opening it. Hawk’s bike still stood where it had before underneath a plastic rain-cover. They must not have wanted to mess with it in the downpour. They also hadn’t left anyone behind to wait for Hawk or cause any other trouble. I was indeed alone.

  Still, the run-in with Sid left me shaken. His danger had been an abstract sort of idea up until this point. Hiding in the closet, where an accidental sneeze might have meant death, suddenly reinforced just how careful Hawk and I had to be.

  I put on my damp clothes and found my cell phone in the folds of the bed comforter. Thank goodness they hadn’t seen it—and thank goodness my mom had called before they showed up, not after. I would be utilizing silent mode a lot more often from this point onward.

  I gave Hawk a call, but it went straight to voicemail. It’s probably nothing, I thought, instead sending him a quick text to let him know that Sid had come by, but everything was fine. Then I climbed into the loft, found a relatively dustless spot behind two boxes, and waited for Hawk to get home.

  I was fairly certain the sound outside was his beat-up truck squelching through the mud, but I waited for him to announce himself before leaving my hiding spot. He threw open the sliding barn door and rushed inside.

  “Charlotte?” he bellowed, panic in his voice. “Charlotte!”

  “I’m up here,” I said as I climbed down from the loft. “What’s wrong? Are we in danger?”

  “Oh thank fuck,” he muttered, rushing forward to wrap me in his arms. He held me so tight I almost couldn’t breathe. “I thought I’d lost you. I saw the bike marks in the mud outside, and all their boot prints in here, and you were gone…”

  I hadn’t noticed the black, muddy prints scattered all over the floor. “I texted you to let you know what happened.”

  “I turned my phone off, just in case.”

  “In case of what? Sid’s tracking you or something?”

  “You don’t know how much power he has. The strings he can pull.”

  The fear in his voice sent a chill down my spine. If Hawk was afraid…

  I sat on the bed and caught him up on everything he’d missed. He listened quietly, nodding along as I went over everything.

  “They must’ve handed off their shipment early on the interstate,” he said. “My contact said Sid was supposed to be occupied all night.” He put his hand on my leg. “I’m sorry I put you in danger. I should have taken you home straight away.”

  “It’s not your fault. I’m safe now.” I cleared my throat. “So what happened at Flop’s?”

  His gaze hardened. “Jesse is all taken care of. He won’t bother you, or us, ever again.”

  I felt my jaw drop. “Did you… You mean you…”

  I couldn’t bring myself to say the words. Fortunately, Hawk immediately shook his head.

  “Fuck no. We didn’t kill him. We just had him transported to a friend who’ll put him in a shipping container out of Jacksonville on its way to China. By the time it arrives in three weeks, you’ll be long gone from Eastland.”

  “Oh, okay.” I breathed a sigh of relief. I knew Hawk had a dark history, but it was comforting knowing he wasn’t that bad of a man.

  “Jesus, Peaches. You thought I would kill someone in cold blood?”

  “I d
on’t know.”

  He flashed a half-amused, half-offended smirk. “You think I’m the kind of man who would do that?”

  “I don’t know what kind of man you are. I thought you were a biker bad boy, but it turns out you’ve got an artistic side.”

  I let a smile crawl onto my lips.

  He groaned. “You went into my workshop.” He got off the bed and strode across the room.

  “I like them!”

  “Sure you do,” he muttered, closing the sliding door to the workshop half of the barn. He grabbed a loose length of chain and started to clamp a padlock over the door.

  I stopped him with a gentle hand to the back of his neck. “I think those statues are the only beautiful thing in this crummy, run-down town.”

  He paused with his hands on the padlock. “You’re just sayin’ that.”

  “It’s true. They’re… haunting, in a beautiful sort of way. If that makes sense.”

  He dropped the chains and turned around. His eyes were soft and vulnerable.

  “I wanted them to be haunting,” he whispered. “I like making things with my hands. Creating something rather than just… destroying. Leaving something behind that will be here long after I’m…”

  Hawk shrugged as if he were uncomfortable. Not from talking about his potential death, but about the things he had created. He wrapped me in a hug, and whispered, “Thank you,” into my ear.

  I hugged him back, and could feel how desperately he’d needed that sort of validation. I ran my hands through his sandy hair until he finally let go.

  “So you learned to do that welding at that factory you said you worked at?”

  “Uh huh.” He motioned with his hands, and for a moment I could picture him bending the metal with his strength. “There’s an art to welding. I just sort of, I dunno, translated it over to something more creative.”