Morrison

by Chelsea Camaron

  “That’s none of your business or your concern.”

  “I had a part in creating this situation, so let me help you out.”

  “No! Never again will I let a man think I owe him.”

  At this moment, I realize why she is the way she is, why she will never take more than she gives. At this moment, I know damn well I can’t just walk away. It’s not just my unexplainable draw to Hailey—now there’s a kid involved. I was that kid once, and no one offered to help.

  Momma didn’t raise us to walk away.

  “I wanna help.”

  “I don’t need your help.” Her attention moves to the walkway her friend is rushing down.

  “Hailey, just got a call, and Monte is on his way. You need to—” her friend begins, and I snap to full attention.

  “Monte Timmons?” I ask. They both look at me, and I shake my head, realizing the ruthless bastard she’s tied to. “I’m not asking for anything in return. Just take this as a little good in a world of bad.” I turn around and see the little girl. “Hey, beautiful, you ever ride in a Porsche?”

  “I don’t think—”

  “Jesus, Hailey, just let him help you get out of here. Go!” her friend encourages.

  “You get this little girl into my car,” I tell her friend.

  Before her friend can argue, I look at Hailey. “Follow me.”

  She looks lost, scared, and so vulnerable, but she nods her head, and I sprint to my car and get in.

  “You like to go fast or slow?” I ask Hailey’s daughter.

  “Slow?” She giggles and smiles in the way of a little girl who has no idea of the danger she is in.

  “Okay. Since this is our first date, I’ll let you call the shots. Don’t get used to it, though, kiddo.”

  I pull out onto the road and look in the rearview. This time, Hailey is following me.

  Chapter 10

  Hailey

  I have lost my ever-loving fucking mind. Of course Monte would have people watching me. Of course the minute he got word I picked Marisa up early he would be on his way to her. Of course in the blink of an eye I would have nothing to balance the scales and would have hit bottom, the sins of the past always weighing me down.

  The drive is a blur as I go crazy inside knowing Monte could be closing in on us. He will take her. He will take her from me. My baby, my little girl, my reason for existence—he will get her and find a way to make me pay.

  The man has no conscience. Hell, the man has no soul. I knew I was in bed with the devil himself, but what could I do? Hailey “Hard Knocks” Poe Timmons—he got the nickname right. My entire life has been surviving the hard knocks.

  Tears fill my eyes, making the road in front of me blur while I follow Morrison closely so I don’t get separated from my daughter any more than I already am.

  How did he know where I lived? How did he show up just when I needed an escape? Can he really give us a safe place?

  I don’t know shit about him. Am I going from one bad situation to another? Could it even get worse?

  Hailey, cut that shit out right now, I tell myself. It can always be worse. Don’t tempt karma; she’s a bitch, and she’ll be sure to show you much worse.

  My chest tightens at the thought, making it hard to breathe. I need a distraction.

  I start to tap my fingers nervously on the steering wheel and look at the speedometer, seeing we are going five under the speed limit. The man has a fucking Porsche, and we are driving under the speed limit, all of this with Monte possibly catching up.

  I gasp. What if he’s working for Monte? How stupid am I?

  I stop myself before my mind runs wild with one bad scenario after another. A man like Morrison Caldwell is not the type to run with the likes of Sean “Monte” Timmons. No, Morrison is about the game, the money, and the flash. He isn’t one for power plays and mind games. Is he?

  God, I hope the hell not.

  My mind swirls, making me feel like I want to vomit, as Marisa’s head bobs, and it hits me right in my gut. I look in my rearview mirror to see just what I didn’t want to see in my backseat.

  Marisa’s car seat.

  In all the chaos, we didn’t move it into Morrison’s car. No, no, no. Please don’t let him wreck. Please let her be buckled. Please, oh please, don’t let us get pulled over. The last thing I need is for Monte to be able to level a charge of child endangerment against me. The last thing my little girl needs is to become property of the state.

  She is mine. I can’t lose her to anyone. She is the only good I have in this entire world, and I can’t give that up.

  Now on high alert, I watch him drive, wondering if he realizes just how precious the cargo is that he carries.

  Every turn, he slows and uses a signal. Every stoplight, he brakes with ease. He never gets remotely near the speed limit, much less goes over it. Morrison Caldwell is a man of mystery, but right now, he is keeping my little girl safe, even if it may only be until Monte gets to us.

  The burn fills my lungs again as the thoughts continue to invade.

  He slows, and I follow as we enter a gated community of condos, a luxurious entryway opening into the upscale facility. I continue at what feels like a snail’s pace behind him until he pulls into a garage and directs me to pull in beside him.

  Blowing out a breath, I try to calm my nerves. I have to be strong for Marisa. Then I force my fingers to stop trembling and get out of my car just as my precious little girl comes bouncing over without a care in the world.

  Inside, I smile to myself. This is how it should be. Adult problems are just that—adult fucking problems. They shouldn’t trickle down on top of kids. Let children be children. There is more than enough time later in life for them to be filled with worry, doubts, and insecurities.

  “Mommy, did you see me? Did you see me?” She beams, and I look to Morrison, who is smirking. “I rode in a porch.”

  “Porsche, Porsche,” Morrison tries to correct.

  “It’s s’posed to go really, really fast, but Mister Mowison asked if I wanted to go fast or slow, and I said slow.”

  In that moment, my heart melts just a little. He gave my baby girl a choice. I can’t think of a time with my mom, my sperm donor, or Monte that I was ever given a choice about anything. However, Morrison Caldwell gave my daughter a choice. He listened and then gave her what she asked for.

  When I look to him, he simply shrugs like it’s no big deal. If he only knew…

  Quickly growing bored, Marisa bounces past me and over to Morrison, who leads us inside. The space is not overly large, like the house I shared with Monte, but as I take in every single square inch, I see it is high-class. The furniture, the TV—hell, even the accent pieces are high-end.

  Morrison has money.

  Thinking on that, my mind spins down the dark rabbit hole yet again. What will he expect from me? What does he want from me?

  We spend the rest of the afternoon getting set up—only temporarily—in Morrison’s guest room. Luckily, he doesn’t say much in front of Marisa, seeming to understand my need to shelter her.

  Night comes all too quickly, thankfully with no word from Marshall or Monte. I’d made a quick call to Jamie, who told me to shut my phone off and get a new prepay to contact her on. After we left earlier, she’d gone to the store and bought pads, tampons, and a prepaid phone that she gave me the number to. The packages of feminine products easily hid the phone inside the plastic grocery bags on the way out of the store. She doesn’t want Alex to see any numbers on the bill for her regular phone and turn them over to Monte. Thank goodness for smart friends. I wouldn’t be able to do any of this without her.

  I sigh. I wouldn’t be able to do any of this without Morrison, either.

  Whether I want to admit it or not, Monte would have found a reason to push me harder and further even without knowing I hooked up with Morrison. This is his world, and I merely exist in it to do as he wishes.

  Knowing I won’t be able to sleep, I slowly pull myse
lf away from Marisa, who is soundly sleeping in the overly lush bed. Her books aren’t packed, because in my rush, I didn’t think about such things. She happily settled for Mommy making up a fairy tale and added in her own bits and pieces where she felt appropriate.

  Now, I quietly move through Morrison’s space as the dread washes over me. Curling up on his couch, I do what any self-respecting mother would do—I cry.

  I let it all out. In the quiet of the night, in a relative stranger’s house, I let go.

  I don’t pay attention to what’s around me as I sob into the fancy throw pillow I find beside me. It isn’t long before, sensing him, I look up to see Morrison walking over to me in a pair of light blue linen pants with white stripes. I hide my face behind the pillow.

  How much has he seen?

  “Sorry to interrupt, but in my master bedroom, there is a huge bathtub full of hot water and some bubbles. Why don’t you go see if that will help you relax?”

  “I don’t need to relax, and if you’re just trying—”

  “Hold up. I’m not trying anything except to keep you safe until we can come up with a plan.”

  I look up at him and scowl.

  “Stow the badass Hailey. You know damn well that’s not what you need right now.”

  “Don’t tell me what I need!”

  “Shh, little chick is sleeping.”

  I am shocked that he’s just scolded me. Then I am flooded with even more emotions—warmer ones. Monte never cared if Marisa witnessed a fight. That’s why I stopped allowing him to push my buttons around her. She didn’t deserve to hear that; she deserves so much more.

  Without a word, I get up and follow the light. Maybe Morrison is right; maybe I do need to try to relax.

  Once we’re in his room, he holds out a shirt. “Sleep in this if you want.”

  I am in the bathroom, soaking away my worries, or at least trying to, when he walks in and hands me a glass of wine. “Here, you’ve earned it, little momma.”

  He walks over to the closet and pulls out two towels. When he is ready to walk out, I stop him.

  “Thank you, Morrison.”

  “No need,” he says, looking back at me as I chug the wine. “That’s really much better if you sip it. Savor it, take—”

  “I’ll try to remember that next time.”

  He nods, then walks out, only to return with the bottle. “It’s here if you need it.”

  “Getting me drunk won’t get you laid.”

  “Didn’t plan on getting laid, babe. But not gonna lie—I did plan on trying to get you into bed.”

  I roll my eyes, and then a very soft smile forms on his lips.

  “You need sleep. We need to figure out what’s next,” he says as he walks out.

  “I need to plan,” I say loud enough for him to hear me.

  “That’s what I just said.” He shuts the door behind him.

  I soak in his ginormous tub, trying to wash my worries down his overpriced drain. When I come to terms with that never happening, I get out. Drying off, I scoop up the shirt he laid out for me without thinking.

  Morrison is tall. His pajama shirt comes down to just above my knees.

  Exhaustion is taking over. With the emotions of the day, the bath, and the wine, I am more than ready to sleep off the rest of this hellish day. Needing to put this all behind me, I go to the guest room, where Marisa has turned sideways, consuming the entire bed. I’ve just made my way back to Morrison’s room for a blanket and pillow when everything hits, and, exhausted, suddenly I find myself lying in his bed. And before I can drift off to dreamland, Morrison is climbing in beside me.

  Looking at him, I notice I am wearing the top to his bottoms, and I can’t help giggling.

  “Babe, it’s not good for a man’s ego if you laugh when he climbs in bed.”

  “Morrison, we’re wearing the pajama set.”

  He winks. “Sharing is caring.”

  “Sharing, huh?” The wine has me feeling relaxed—maybe a little too relaxed. Although my plan was to go to sleep, now that he’s in the bed with me, sleep is not what’s on my mind.

  He reaches up and rubs his thumb in circles on my temple while his fingers find their way into my hair. “What’s going on in there?”

  “I’m not a whore. Well, I am, but not ’cause I’m easy. I lost. Monte won. The prize was me. He got me.”

  “Baby, you are every man’s prize.”

  I giggle at his sentiment and slap at his chest. “I’ve only ever been with him…Well, until you blocked me in, and I couldn’t resist.” I begin blabbering, a trait that’s far from attractive. I have heard of liquor lips, but what do they call it when the wine has you telling your deepest and darkest secrets in life?

  “Hailey.” He says my name softly, stopping my crazy rambling about my time with Monte. “Where’s your family? Is there anyone who ever tried to intervene, or people you can go to?”

  I laugh sharply at him, and not in the “ha-ha this is funny” way. “Family…Marisa is my family.” I sigh before whispering, “Marisa is my world. She is the most important thing I have ever done and ever will do.”

  “You’re a damn good mom, and you can take that from someone who was raised by a damn good momma.” He looks to the ceiling, and something passes across his features, making me curious about his mom. “Who is holding you up, though?”

  “My mom is dead, and my dad was her pimp.” His eyes grow big at my admission. “Big Daddy Pimp, who freely handed us over to Monte. He was nothing more than a sperm donor.”

  Morrison says nothing, only sets his face firmly in a scowl, making his features harden to a point that I can see even in the darkened room.

  “Call me Orphan Annie, ’cause, baby, I got no one but the family I made with Ris Priss,” I try to joke to lighten the mood.

  “I’m sorry,” he says as he laces our hands together.

  “Don’t.” I push the tears back. “Don’t you dare fucking pity me, Morrison Caldwell! We play the hand we’re dealt in life until the last card hits the felt.”

  “I don’t pity you, Hailey. I just…I just…”

  “You just wanna make it all better. Well, Morrison, the truth is, my life is hard knocks. You’re trying to give me hope in a situation that’s hopeless, in a life that’s hopeless. I keep telling myself I can do better for me and for Marisa, but I don’t know if I believe it anymore. It’s best if you get away now so I don’t drag you down with me. I’ll see my way through somehow. I always do.” I start to tense as the wine quickly wears off now that we are in deep, emotional territory.

  Sensing this, reading me, Morrison pulls me against him, laying me half over his chest. Then he strokes my hair while I listen to the steady thump of his heart, relaxing once again.

  “You are the strongest woman I have ever known, outside of my mother. I once made a promise to be the good in a world of bad. Hailey, let me give you good.”

  I start to sit up to look at him, but he keeps me in place, dropping a quick kiss on the top of my head.

  “Sleep, Hailey. No more hard knocks—just good. Sleep on that.”

  I want to argue. I want to…I don’t know. I just want to yell, throw something, and tell him, “If only it were that easy.” Yet, I don’t. Instead, I find myself listening to the beat of his heart as I drift into a sound and peaceful sleep that I have never before experienced in my entire life.

  Chapter 11

  Morrison

  She is finally asleep. Finally.

  As a child, I saw my mother cry. I saw it a few times, actually. Every time I asked what was wrong, she froze up and told me everything would be fine. She would comfort me. As I grew older, I no longer had to ask.

  By the age of seven, I remember knowing exactly what was wrong. I remember hearing him berate and degrade her. I remember Hendrix pacing and looking like he wanted to escape the little shit box of a room where all three of us slept. It was in the back corner of the apartment and the smallest room, but I don’t remember t
he old man’s drunk ass making it back there more than once, maybe twice.

  Momma tucked us away, figuring she could protect us back there.

  In her weakest moment, she told me everything about her life, her mother, how she was raised, and what she had been through.

  Hailey. Holy fucking conundrum, Batman! This chick’s life has been a whole different level of hell than Momma’s. No physical abuse—well, not anything like Momma’s, anyway.

  To feel like you were owned and somehow owed the rest of your life to some piece of shit who reminded you every day that he possessed you, that shit right there strips your pride, your confidence, and any fucking hope that a human being could have. And, regardless of what Momma and us boys endured, we at least had hope. Hope is the single strongest feeling you can have. Hope doesn’t go away. It may hide, like right now, but it comes back with a vengeance.

  Hailey said she has none, and I couldn’t tell her she was wrong; I could only listen. She was wrong, though. She has hope—hope for her daughter. And, if she could only see that, she would be well on her way to healing, to overcoming the shit storm her life is.

  In the dark of night, her body trembles, and she starts making these little noises, almost silent sobs, as she lies against my chest. I pull her tighter, and they go away.

  God, it feels good to know I can do that for her.

  I wish someone could have done that for Momma.

  She was right, though: Monte is a snake. I played against him in one of the underground tourneys around Vegas, kicked his ass, and walked away with enough money to buy this place. For a week, I watched my back, because he and his goons were everywhere. I didn’t change shit in how I went about my day, but right then and there, I decided I wouldn’t play in that circuit again.

  As much as I love the thrill of the game, I love my face and my possessions more, and I didn’t want either to get fucked up. Let’s face it; I’m not Jackie fucking Chan, but going toe to toe, I could wipe the floor with anyone I want. Hell, the old man whupped the shit out of me, and I let him. Why? Because it pissed him off that I was stronger than he was, and it taught me to fear no man. Pain is nothing.