Unravel

by Tara Lynn

  Her cheeks grew a shade of rouge. “If that’s the fix, then I don’t need you to help me with that.”

  It was my turn to spin. The girl wasn't squeaky clean. It took me by surprise every time, even knowing it.

  “Well, let me know if you do take care of it,” I said. “That'll be enough to tide me over.”

  “I'll let you know when we're over for the day,” she said.

  “All business, huh?” I said. “Fine, I'll go find my fun.”

  I winked at her, flipped down my shades and thrummed the engine to life. A dozen kids startled on the sidewalk – civilians. It was fun to give them a little excitement.

  But these kids were on their way to a wide open future. All I’d ever have was this engine.

  The branches above cast speckled shadows over me, as I wheeled my way out of the traffic jam. Without Liza bundled around me, the lightness in my mood leaked out steadily. What in the hell was I doing here? The more I stepped into Liza's world, the less certain mine seemed.

  It didn't matter. I couldn't go deeper into her world than the front door. Only access I had might be as her stepbrother and that sure as hell didn’t count.

  Life in the MC wasn’t the worse thing to return to. I still had a chunk of change from the run I'd done for Clash a while back. It was time to go find fun the ways I knew how.

  I drove around until I found a spot for my chopper by a place with a live bar. I glanced down and saw the whole street full of them, packs of UT Austin people huddled in outdoor patios, drinking, laughing, pounding the table even with the daylight searing down on them. Guess college kids and me weren’t all so far apart, after all.

  I entered one of the emptier venues. The bar was dark and wooden and under the lights at the far end, someone was playing a sax. I took a seat at a small table and got a whiskey neat – I looked rough enough they didn't even ask for ID.

  I had a whole day of this, so I went easy, getting some fries to slow things down. The whiskey melted into me nice and smooth and the jazz or blues or whatever it was almost started to make sense. Liza would love this place. Maybe I’d get her down here when things wrapped up for the day.

  Who was I kidding? She’d probably have her own crew to hang out with by then.

  I sat, letting the cool notes patter up my spine like a rainstorm. It felt sad and soothing at once.

  This wasn't how they raged at the club bar for the MC. It’d be hard rock or metal to accompany hard drinking and fucking. It crushed your senses. I'd seen guys with eyes planted on the horizon from the day’s work allow themselves to fall under the spell. They’d wake up the next day ready bright eyed, eager and ready for more, the past erased.

  This music was different. It didn’t try to bury what happened. It listened to your story, sympathized, then told you the world was shit, so you might as well keep on trying. Everyone sat equal before it.

  Even murderers.

  The thoughts came rushing back. It had been an accident, a miscommunication. But the truth remained: I had killed a man.

  I had gone to the MC looking to make a deal with the devil and found myself committing a sin that even the MC rarely indulged in. The blame was all on me. I’d been asked to do a simple package run. In the span of a few seconds, that package run ended with the supplier slumped on the floor with his life leaked out his back.

  I’d run. I rode out into the desert in my dad’s old rattler. It wasn’t the best hiding spot, but I didn’t try very hard. No place would take me far enough away from my own mind. I almost longed for a bullet to find it, to be rendered blank.

  But when the MC found me, they hadn’t buried me. They had wiped things clean.

  “Ain’t your fault, boy,” Jethro said, crouching in next to the open window. “That pendejo was always too jumpy for his own good. If you hadn’t shot him, he’d probably have done the same.”

  “He’s not a brother,” Clash said somewhere outside the passenger end. “Just a guy in it for the money. Well, he paid the price.”

  “This was for the MC.” Jethro clapped my shoulder. “You were part of family while helping us.”

  “And we protect our own.”

  Protect your own. Those three words had shown me light in the abyss. I could live by those words. They meant I wasn’t just a fuckup or a murderer. I was a guy trying to do the right thing, when shit went south. That story I could carry.

  It wasn’t a story I could share, though. Not with Liza. Even after the MC fulfilled my wish – had sent her father packing – I couldn’t confront her. Try as I might, I couldn’t find words that didn’t trip over my tongue, that didn’t leave her mortified at what I’d done in her name. Two times, I’d tried to help, and two times I’d made things worse. I couldn’t lay what happened on this third attempt at her feet.

  Being with her again put me right back in those first few moments; wanting to tell this girl what I’d done for her, as if it would lead me back to the life I’d led. It wouldn’t. I was with the MC, I’d squandered my time in school, I’d waited only dimly for a chance with football, and it’d never found me.

  The jazz swept me through into the afternoon. I could see clearly where life had landed me. Sure the MC had a place for me, but it was a place for broken men to keep from falling apart, not become whole again.

  Maybe I could have Liza for a little while longer, but it’d just be passing time till she’d have to walk away. I’d rushed in her like air filling a vacuum. Losing her again would be like ripping the air right out of my lungs. It’d be worse the deeper I inhaled. I’d never truly be fit for this city or for her.

  “Hey, is this seat taken?” a bright voice chirped above me.

  I glanced up and saw a cute redhead with a pointed chin glowing at me.

  “No,” I said. “Have it.”

  She didn't scrawl it away though. She sat down right next to me.

  “You like jazz?” she said.

  “I'm finding it suits me.” I said softly.

  “Ooh, you certainly know how to speak it.”

  The waiter came over and she ordered a tall, hard drink. I took the chance to look her over. She wore a tight brown t-shirt that had the UT logo on it and black jeans. It was all she needed to look good. She glanced back with an exhausted smile.

  “I'm so glad I found someone who isn't all into that organized Admit Day bullshit,” she said. “We're here to live, right? So why not see Austin.”

  “You're skipping all the events?” I said.

  “Well, the beginnings.” Her eyes never strayed from the man playing. “I don't need to be praised, you know. Right, we got in, we're great. Not great enough to go to Rice or Chicago maybe, but still, just awesome.”

  She rattled on about events I had no invitation to. I simply sipped my drink and admired the song. Part of me wanted to kiss her to get her to shut up. It would work – I mean, hell, the girl had picked this seat out of an empty room.

  But I didn’t have the urge for what would follow.

  “I'm not a student,” I said eventually.

  “Oh.” She looked me over. “You've got that look about you.”

  I chuckled. “Honey, you never seen a cut before?”

  “A cut?” Her tight brow wrinkled. “What is that?”

  I patted my jacket. “It's what you get when you sign on to a motorcycle club.”

  “Ah. I was wondering why you were wearing leather in April. But what does that have to do with not going to school here?”

  It was such an obvious question. You were in the MC or you were a civilian. Loving had always operated that way. But...I couldn't even begin to explain it in a way that made sense.

  The girl looked on with her doe eyes, occasionally flickering to my lips.

  Maybe it didn’t make sense. The MC had helped me out of the hole I’d put myself in. Maybe I couldn’t pull myself all the way to Austin, but I could rise a bit further, go to school, become something decent.

  The thought left me spinning.

 
“I don't know,” I said.

  “I'm sorry.” She patted my hand. “Did I say something wrong? I just meant you have that clean cut look about you. Maybe I'm just being stupid.”

  “You're not,” I said. “But I think I'd rather drink alone.”

  “Oh.” She bit her lip, but nodded. “Ok, I understand. I'll just be chilling by the bar if you feel like talking.”

  I almost wanted to fuck her just to cheer her up. But I had no fire in me.

  The only sparks that lit up came thinking of Liza, gripping me tight as we entered Austin. She must have found her crew by now – and if not, she’d still have that Maria chick here when she attended.

  But even if I could convince myself to do something more with my life, even if I could pull myself up, I’d never be good enough for her. At best, I’d be a weight holding her down. I’d be a gnat on her thoughts, chasing her from the future she was owed.

  Even here, even with the promise of her close, she was already lost to me.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Eliza

  If orientation was supposed to tell me what going to school was like, then the next four years were going to be a bigger nightmare than the last four. There were thousands and thousands of people here. Even though they'd put us in ‘family squads’ of a dozen, it didn't help. Everyone else came from a place like Dallas or Houston. San Antonio counted as some backwater. Loving? Not even on the map

  “Cool name.” One of the kids had said. “Isn’t that a suburb in Houston?”

  “It’s just a town out West.”

  “Oh.” He was polite enough not to snicker. But I could see the judgment in his eyes: Poor, little country mouse.

  Other guys, tall red faced ones, looked at me like coyotes eying fresh meat. Like I didn’t know what they wanted from me.

  Everyone in my squad stuck together in seconds like tumbleweed. I might be quiet back home, but only cause I chose to. Now, I could barely squeak out a few word when someone took pity and talked to me.

  I was not this girl. My stepfather himself hadn't reduced me so much. This school did enough.

  God, why wasn't Maria here? Even Everett walking silently by my side would be comforting. This wasn't his crowd, but he wouldn’t mind.

  Only, I’d chased him away, cause I didn’t want my name tarnished. What exactly was there to tarnish? I wasn’t Laser Clark here. I was barely a dot on the wall.

  After tours of dusty red-stone buildings with names I forgot immediately and an echoingly silent late lunch mushing through a turkey wrap across from no one at my corner of the table, I couldn’t take more. I just wanted my dorm key so I curl up on the top bunk, cover myself with a blanket and pretend to be sick.

  I couldn't even get that.

  “What do you mean, you don't have a room for me?” I said.

  “I'm sorry, dear,” the older woman behind the plastic registration table said. “I'm just not seeing a room number here.”

  “But I'm registered.” My fuse had just about run out, and I needed to get somewhere out of sight before I blew.

  “I understand, but there's just not...”

  She leaned over and consulted with the other woman sitting at the A-D table. They both had the same comfy long sleeve university shirts and the same bob of hair.

  They actually did seem to care. That calmed me a bit.

  The lady peered back up at me. “Don't worry, dear. It's just a bit of a mix-up. You have a room. It’s just not ready yet. Why don’t you go talk to a few more people while we get everything tidied up?”

  My timer started ticking again. I didn't want to meet anyone. I just wanted space to breathe.

  I clenched my teeth and said, “How long will that take?”

  “Oh, by the time you get back from your afternoon session-”

  “No.” My breath came so thin that my nose felt clogged. “No, I need to lie down now.”

  “Well, you only have till quarter past to settle in anyway. There’s the student group fair after-”

  “I'm not going to any of that. I just need to lie down for a while.”

  The woman's gentle look tightened. “Are you alright?” She peered up at me.

  My arms erupted in sweat.

  God, why was it so hot here?

  I looked around. People were easy and smiling in lines even in their full university long sleeves. A few were looking at me with flat faces.

  The registration lady was standing now. The girl behind me in line had come up. She looked like Maria, but she was a stranger.

  “Are you ok?” she said softly.

  My breath was coming out of me in huge huffs now. It felt like trying to breathe underwater. Everyone was looking at me.

  It was one thing to be the quiet girl. I could always fix quiet. But the girl who spazzed out and went nuts at reception? People would never forget that. I’d be defined by that moment. My future would vanish before it appeared.

  “I'm fine,” I managed to gasp out.

  “Should we call a nurse?”

  I stepped away from her, tugged my bag tight around my shoulders and barely kept from running my way to the door. I cut through another line, but no one noticed. Someone might have been calling out for me, but I pretended not to hear.

  The air outside was thick and warm like a greenhouse. The dorms were on the edge of campus luckily, so the foot traffic wasn't that high. I crossed the street into a crowd of non-students, just breathing and putting one foot in front of the other.

  I walked a block then wondered just where in the hell I was headed.

  Home? Home was three hours away.

  And there was nothing for me there but a bed to hide in. It had never saved me from anything. Was I so pathetic that I just wanted something familiar rather than something decent?

  A man was playing saxophone on the street corner. I stopped to listen. The chords wound their way up my spine like a massage. My heartbeat came down. My breathing eased.

  The tangy smell of barbecue sauce floated through the air from somewhere beyond. I was full, but it snapped me to life like an electric jolt.

  This was life: people earning money, eating, relaxing. School was just a means. So I was a poor girl from nowhere. Of course, I’d feel out of place here. All I had to do was show up to class and do as well as I could. If that didn’t amount to top of the class, then fine. Why on earth would I need to fight my way to the top here?

  It had never been about that in Loving. I’d fought to get away – maybe more from myself than anything.

  Well, I got away from town, but I couldn’t run away from me. I’d just have to find my place here. Maybe with the art club – those guys sure kept their space.

  And maybe if I found where I belonged, I’d slowly forget what had happened to me. That wasn’t the thought on my mind now though. All I could think about was getting back to Rett. He’d know what to do.

  I texted him. Where exactly was he planning to stay tonight anyway? I had just thanked him quietly for offering to drive me here, and just expected him to show up for the ride back tomorrow, and he’d agreed without another word. Sure, he’d toyed with me the whole trip, but only with words. His hands had remained distant.

  In truth, I’d been expecting worse.

  Or maybe the right word was ‘more.’

  He didn't text back right away. Maria had sent half a dozen though, so I gave here a mix of truths about the school and lies about how awesome a time I was having.

  I tossed a dollar I really couldn't afford into the busker's saxophone case and went to the barbecue shop for a hot link that I also really couldn't afford.

  I stood eating it outside, checking my phone every few minutes.

  What exactly was he doing?

  I'm only getting ideas. I'll paint them on someone else.

  The memory burned my ears. My chest condensed like a crushed can.

  Is that really what he was up to? This soon? Ok, fine he looked good, but what kind of girl would let him just ravage her i
n the middle of a school day?

  Well, not a girl at school. An older woman, maybe.

  A real woman, one who could actually handle his strength, who he’d become. Not just let him twist her into an old ache until she couldn’t tell what was lust and what was longing.

  I started breathing hard again. Even now, I couldn't even tell if it was because it was wrong being with him.

  Or infuriating not being the girl he was with.

  The spicy sausage didn't help. I took a long draw in my mouth and suddenly I tasted him, warm and moist. I took a big mouthful and just held it there, soaking in the memory of him. Life had been so simple when we were together in bed. I didn’t want to be anywhere else. I didn’t need anything more.