HIDDEN CREEK NOW: a hidden creek high novel

by Kidman, Jaxson

  I didn’t answer.

  But my mind…

  Closing your dream business or marrying someone?

  “It doesn’t matter,” Julia said. She dropped her cigarette and stepped on it. “I’ve been thinking about opening it again.”

  “You should,” I said. “Just open it up tomorrow.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Just like that,” I said.

  “It’s not that easy.”

  “Why not?”

  “It just isn’t.”

  “Turn the key,” I said.

  “Turn the key,” Julia said, rolling her eyes. “Here’s some stale bread. And, oh, we don’t have coffee. But you can sit here for free.”

  “Lame excuses, sweetheart,” I said.

  “You don’t know anything, Jett,” she said.

  She pushed from the wall and walked back to the sidewalk.

  I tossed my cigarette away and followed her.

  The little town was now a busy night. There were streetlights glowing in the air, neon lights from restaurants and bars.

  I stepped up next to Julia and sighed. “Fucking coffee. Who drinks coffee anyway?”

  “A lot of people do,” Julia said. “Including you.”

  “Yeah, but not tonight,” I said.

  “I know what you’re trying to do,” she said. “The same thing I used to do to you. Make a dumb joke to ease the tension.”

  “Is it working?”

  “No.”

  “Which is why I used to get annoyed,” I said.

  Julia looked up at me.

  She didn’t say anything.

  “Can I buy you a drink?” I asked. “No fake names and funny stories. Just a drink.”

  “No,” Julia said.

  “No? Oh, that’s right. You’re a tough girl now. You’re going to buy your own drinks.”

  “No,” she said again.

  “So now I’m getting one word answers. Perfect.”

  She touched my arm. “No, Jett. I don’t want a drink.”

  “Then what do you want, sweetheart?” I asked.

  Julia slowly grinned and pointed. My eyes followed where she was pointing.

  I laughed.

  “Really?” I asked.

  “Jett… we should get matching tattoos.”

  Chapter 18

  THEN

  Julia

  Jett opened the door to the tattoo parlor and I grabbed his hand.

  “You’re serious right now?” he said.

  “Yup,” I said.

  “Matching tattoos? Were you sneaking drinks when I wasn’t looking?”

  “No,” I said.

  I was feeling good. But I wasn’t going to not remember anything tomorrow.

  And it was a tattoo.

  So what?

  I had more than one already.

  And it was my body.

  I could smoke if I wanted to. I could pierce anything I wanted. And I could get tattoos. Of anything.

  Music echoed from the back of the tattoo parlor.

  The front was brightly lit.

  A tall guy stood behind a glass counter, his ears pierced with giant O’s in them. His arms full of tattoos down to his wrists.

  “That’s so cool,” I said as I walked toward him.

  “What’s that?” the guy asked.

  “Your earrings,” I said. “Or whatever they’re called. Can I stick my finger through the hole?”

  “What is with you tonight?” Jett asked.

  I looked at him. “What? Got a problem?”

  “Have you two been drinking?” the guy asked.

  “Bro, you set up a tattoo shop in the middle of a bunch of bars,” Jett said.

  “Point taken,” the guy said.

  “We want to get matching tattoos,” Julia said.

  “Cute,” the guy said. “What do you want to get done?”

  “She wants my name across her ass,” Jett said.

  I elbowed him. “Gross.”

  “I’ve seen it before,” the guy said.

  “My name on some woman’s ass?” Jett asked. “Oh, shit…”

  The guy laughed. “I’m Matt.”

  We all introduced ourselves.

  Matt said he’d be waiting for when we made our decision.

  Of course, Jett being Jett, he found big tribal tattoos and said they’d look good on our faces. I’d get one half on my face and he’d get the other half. So then when we hugged, the tattoo would look complete. Like a signal code as though we were superheroes.

  Dick.

  I flipped through pages of tattoos.

  Designs. Symbols.

  I thought about a cup of coffee.

  No lie.

  A little cup of coffee with steam coming out of it.

  “Hey, why not a loaf of bread too?” Jett asked after I told him my idea.

  “Fuck you,” I said with a grin.

  “Just pick something random. So nobody will know what it means. And you can make up a story.”

  “Dog shit?” I asked.

  “I’m not cool with shit getting tattooed into my skin.”

  “Well, it’s ink,” I said.

  Jett laughed. “I know that, sweetheart.”

  “Okay. I’m going to just point to something random. And that’s it. Okay?”

  “Let’s get it done,” Jett said.

  I put my head back and flipped through a bunch of pages and randomly stopped and planted my finger down.

  “A spade,” I said.

  “A spade?” Jett asked.

  “Like in a deck of cards,” I said. I curled my lip. “Right?”

  “You said whatever you picked…”

  “That’s pretty cool,” Matt said from behind us. “I mean, depending on what you’re doing this for.”

  “Sell it to me,” I said to Matt.

  “I don’t sell tattoos,” Matt said. “But the spade as a symbol… it has a mix of life and death to it. It could mean winter. Darkness. But it also means bad stuff. A lot of bikers get those for whatever reasons. I mean, if you’re looking for a happy tattoo…”

  “Nope,” I said. “This is it.”

  “You sure?” Jett asked.

  I looked at him. “I get to be an outlaw, Jett. With my badass spade tattoo.”

  Jett stood up. “I’m ready then.”

  “Sounds good,” Matt said. “I can just do that freehand for you both. You can follow me to the back.”

  Matt walked and I stood up but didn’t move.

  I faced Jett.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Does this work for crazy?” I whispered. “I mean, with everything that’s happened to us. And I know with Azel…”

  “Are you trying to back out on this?” Jett asked.

  “Not a chance. But you’re going first.”

  “Where should I get it tattooed on me?”

  I smiled and backed away. “Put it on your ass, Jett.”

  * * *

  Nobody got a tattoo on their ass.

  Which was good.

  Jett got his ink done near the top of his right shoulder. Sort of mixed in with his other tattoos. But the way it was centered and with the fresh black ink, there was no missing that it was new.

  I still got nervous when it was my turn.

  I decided to get it on my left hip.

  Just under where my jeans rested.

  I had to wiggle my jeans (and panties) down enough to give Matt space to tattoo me. He was focused on the tattoo. I was focused on Jett as he stood there with arms crossed.

  The grin on his face made me blush.

  I was getting ink on a spot Jett used to touch…

  The first buzz and burn of the tattoo gun made me gasp and thankfully chased all my thoughts away.

  But that didn’t last long at all.

  What is this, Julia? What’s the story here, huh? This is crazy.

  But it’s a good crazy. The right kind of crazy.

  How?

  Because o
f the meaning. We’ve been through so much. You heard what the guy said. Right? Death. Darkness. But also something with life. It’s us… it’s Jett and I. Everything we went through. Finding each other. The love we had. All the death that happened around us. The darkness that took him from me and me from him. But… life…

  Yet I had no idea what that word meant.

  Life.

  I didn’t have much time to debate myself.

  I cringed through the sound of the tattoo gun and the little nips of pain here and there. Not to mention when Matt wiped the excess ink away it kind of tickled. When it tickled I blushed. Not because Matt was touching me but because I saw the look on Jett’s face and knew he was thinking the same thing as me.

  ‘What did you get me for Christmas, sweetheart?’

  ‘I’m not telling you,’ I say. ‘It’s not Christmas.’

  ‘It’s Christmas Eve. Same thing. Come on.’

  ‘No way, Jett. I’m not telling you. I’m not giving you anything. You hear that? Anything.’

  ‘Oh, really? I might not believe in Santa, but I’m damn sure someone is coming tonight…’

  I laugh and push him away. ‘That was so lame, Jett. And kind of gross. I don’t want some fat guy with a big, white beard trying to make me come.’

  ‘Don’t even joke about that,’ he says.

  ‘Oh, is someone jealous?’

  ‘Just tell me what you got me for Christmas. I hate surprises.’

  ‘Tough. Shit.’

  Jett grabs my hips and knows right where to touch to tickle me.

  I scream.

  He puts his mouth to mine.

  We skip the pleasantries of a soft kiss and go right for something else.

  I can’t breathe.

  His hands are flirting and teasing and torturing me.

  Merry Christmas to me…

  When we were done, I had to either keep my jeans down low or pull them up high. It was easier to keep them lower.

  Jett was an asshole and paid for everything when I wasn’t looking.

  And just as fast as I told him I wanted to get a tattoo, we were out the door and walking again.

  Side by side.

  Not holding hands.

  That part of the night just felt so wrong.

  And out of nowhere I felt my throat close and tears try to pour from my eyes.

  Two hundred things hitting me at once.

  The tingle, tickle pain from the tattoo on my hip.

  Standing next to Jett, unsure what I was thinking or doing or why I was even there.

  The first place I saw that served alcohol became my new favorite part.

  I dipped inside and Jett had to chase after me.

  I cut my way to the bar and the woman bartender looked at me and didn’t have to say a word. She lifted her eyes to Jett behind me. Then back to me.

  I nodded.

  Drinks… lots of them.

  * * *

  My plan mostly worked.

  The drinks calmed everything down.

  Not completely silent, but quiet enough that I could still function.

  Jett and I agreed to keep things real. No fake names and stories.

  We sat next to each other, went drink for drink, and kept the conversation totally meaningless.

  I wasn’t sure if it was flirting or just talking. Or just what we were never able to calm down.

  I felt safe near him. Even with a million things hanging over our heads.

  So many conversations that were being skipped over that could change our lives.

  I put my hands to the bar and stood up.

  “You good?” Jett asked.

  “Restroom,” I said.

  I walked around the bar and through the noise of chatter and music to the women’s bathroom. I pushed open the heavy, black door and the bathroom was soft lighting, smelled clean, and I was alone.

  I didn’t have to use the bathroom.

  I just stood at the sink and stared at the person looking back.

  She looked like me.

  But she wasn’t me.

  Then again, I wasn’t sure what me even was.

  I looked at my phone and couldn’t believe what time it was.

  It felt like it was just ten minutes ago that I was chasing Jett down the hill from the cemetery to the church. And now…

  I sucked in a breath and had to let it out.

  As I stood there, blubbering, I started to laugh at myself.

  Maybe I was going insane.

  I wasn’t just off my rocker. I broke the rocker and tied it together into a raft and was sailing out in the middle of the ocean.

  After a couple minutes, I wiped my eyes, splashed water on my face, and that was that.

  It was technically already tomorrow, which meant it was today, and today I’d head back home and let things figure themselves out.

  Simple.

  I opened the restroom door and Jett stood there.

  I gasped like I hadn’t seen him in ten years.

  “Tab’s paid,” he said. “Ready to walk back to the room?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Of course.”

  He reached out and touched my face.

  He knew I had been crying.

  Shit.

  “You want to walk back in silence?” Jett asked.

  I nodded.

  He took his hand away and grabbed my hand to make sure I was behind him as we walked out of the bar.

  Then he let my hand go.

  And he kept to his word.

  We stayed in silence all the way back to our room.

  When we got there, he grabbed a pillow and threw it to an old looking chair in the corner of the room.

  He sat down and said, “Home, sweet, home.”

  “You…”

  I stopped.

  What was I going to say? Sleep in the same bed as me?

  “You did enough, sweetheart,” he said. “Least you can get is a half decent night of sleep. Next time I’ll splurge and get a big ass hotel room.”

  “Next time, huh?” I asked.

  “I wasn’t impressionable enough?”

  I laughed. “Jett, you leave more than an impression on someone.”

  “I’m not sure if that’s good or bad.”

  I opened my mouth and had to think about it. “I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m drunk.”

  I walked to the door and made sure the door was locked.

  Then I shut off the lights.

  It was dark.

  I could see the silhouettes of the objects in the room.

  And as I walked by Jett, I felt his fingertips touch mine.

  I lost all my breath.

  I turned and faced him, even though I couldn’t see him.

  His hand touched my hip.

  Then his other hand touched my other hip.

  It was my turn to make a move now.

  I gently put my hands to his shoulders.

  Those big shoulders.

  I felt my legs parting, my body inching forward, wanting to sit on him.

  I leaned down.

  Inching closer to him.

  My hair falling forward.

  Our foreheads touched and I gasped.

  I smelled the whiskey on his breath.

  I wanted him to taste the whiskey on mine.

  Our noses touched.

  My head turned just a little.

  Our lips had to have been an inch apart.

  “I’m married,” I whispered.

  “I know,” Jett said. “Do you want to be?”

  “I… I said the word,” I whispered.

  “What do words mean if you don’t mean them, sweetheart?”

  “They’re still the words,” I said. “We’re drunk. You’re in pain, Jett. I’m… I should go to sleep.”

  I felt Jett tighten his grip on my waist for a second and then let me go.

  He sank back into the chair.

  I pushed from his shoulders and turned, biting my lip, walking to the bed.

>   I collapsed down and pulled the pillow to my face.

  It took everything to not break down into tears and scream.

  “It’s missing everything that hurts,” Jett said. “That’s the shit that doesn’t go away.”

  I lifted my head. “Jett…”

  “I loved the way Wes took care of Azel. Watching him told me everything I did with Wes was good. Maybe that’s a shitty and greedy thing to say. Who knows, sweetheart. Ah, shit, who knows. The kid is gone. The little guy is gone. He’s really fucking gone.”

  “I’m so sorry, Jett,” I said. “I am so sorry for everything. I want you to know that. And please believe me… I can… or I will… I am… shit, Jett. I’m just so sorry.”

  There was silence.

  I stared at Jett.

  I waited for his silhouette to come into view.

  To see if he was awake or not.

  I couldn’t tell.

  I wiped my right cheek and put my head down.

  I’m so sorry, Jett, but please know I still love you.

  * * *

  When morning came, I sat up in the motel room bed and looked around. There was no confusion. There was no headache or hangover. I knew exactly what had happened, when, why, blah, blah, blah.

  I lifted my shirt and looked at the bandage over the tattoo and I smiled.

  The first thing that went through my mind was what was I going to tell Kinney?

  It wasn’t the biggest tattoo in the world, but any tattoo was one Kinney hated.

  I’d have to pull something out of the air.

  A version of the truth. Kind of like folding a picture in half to hide someone.

  That’s what I would do.

  I’d explain what the spade meant. And how it pertained to my life.

  I’d just have to leave Jett out of it.

  Oh, Jett…

  I turned my head and the chair was empty.

  My heart sank.

  There’s no way…

  I hurried to the door and opened it.

  Jett’s car was gone.

  “No,” I whispered.

  I shut the door and looked around the room.

  He was gone.

  Really gone.

  I walked to the bathroom and when I opened the door, I let out a loud gasp.

  The bathroom counter was small but it was covered in bread and coffee.

  Stacked with loaf after loaf of bread. All kinds of breads too.

  And the coffee… whole bean, ground, and a coffee that was already made with a note on top of it.