"I'm just going to move it to the municipal lot down the block," he said, as though reading my thoughts. "That way, if you're right and he's tracking your wheels, he won't know where you are, just that you've been here at some point. But if you're parked right outside your room … "
"Oh. Of course," I said, still not entirely sold but also seeing the logic in his proposal. Besides, if I was going to be stuck with an abusive man, it might as well be an abusive man who was willing to give me mind-blowing orgasms than one who just wanted to give me reasons to wear concealer. I gave him my keys from where they sat on the nightstand.
"You won't … you won't, like, steal it or anything?"
Reign smiled, finding humor in my panic. I'd have been offended but that smile was like a get-out-of-jail-free card.
"What would I do with a junker like that? I only need two wheels. But I am gonna see if we can't get you something new to ride around in. Even if you decide to go through with this fool plan of yours to head to the border, we'll make sure you get there as incognito as you can," he said, reaching out to stroke my cheek. My eyes closed, my head lolled against his palm, the warmth of him like a panacea for my fevered mind. He rose, jangling my keys.
"Don't you run off on me, now," he said, and I thought I could detect a hint of actual worry in his plea.
"How can I?" I said, gesturing to the keys he held in his hand. He looked down at them and smiled, laughing at himself.
"I'll come back ‘round later, or see you at the bar," he said, leaning forward and cupping my chin in his hand, our lips meeting once again, tongues just barely touching for one soft, blessed moment.
And then he was gone, a shaft of too-bright light appearing in the room as he swung the door open, then disappearing as he shut it.
Do you know the tale of the tell-tale heart?
As soon as I was alone in that room, it was like that duffel bag in the safe was the beating heart plaguing the narrator in Poe's story. I fell asleep, slowly but surely, to a dull, imagined throbbing sound emanating from the safe. As though it were alive, glowing and thumping against the walls. Trying to escape.
A metronome that lulled me to sleep as much as it frightened me.
It could have been my own heartbeat.
8
"Give me a screwdriver, Honey" Reign said, sliding onto a stool in the tired morning light of the bar. He'd moved Gabriella's car, loving the smell of her that lingered in the driver's seat, and walked the two blocks back to the bar in a sort of exhausted, lust-or love-struck stupor. He hoped it was just the former, prayed that it wasn't the latter. Honey twisted her dishrag around her hand, looking at him with her eyebrows raised.
"Now what in the hell's got you out of bed before noon?" she asked before turning to pour out a very, very stiff drink. Kid sure looked like he needed it.
"Ain't my bed. Got kicked out," Reign said, taking a long swill from the drink and smacking his lips together. "Sure glad I didn't brush my teeth first."
"You spent the night with someone?" Honey asked, more surprised than anything else. "I thought that was one of your rules, never spend the night?"
"Yeah, well, the girl was so good, I wanted to get it again when I woke up. But we never did get to sleepin'," Reign said, somewhat bashful. He realized that he was slipping back into a more comfortable vernacular, and thought about how much he'd wanted to impress Gabriella. Even after she'd let him do whatever he wanted to her body, some part of him still wanted to impress her mind. He kept his eyes away from Honey's as she looked him up and down.
"You're not talking about that curvy piece what was in here last night, huh? The one with the shiner made her look like damn Mohammad Ali?"
"That's the one. C'mon, Honey, that bruise was gnarly but those hips … whew!"
"I like girls, too, Reign, but girl like that means trouble. The way she was clutching that bag to her like it was her baby … someone's looking for her, most likely," Honey said, idly wiping at the bar.
"Yeah, a cop," Reign said with a half-smile. Honey stopped wiping the bar, put her hands on her hips. "Her hubby is Colorado PD."
"You think that's something to smile about? You fuckin' think that's a joke? We ain't exactly selling flowers here, Reign. Jesus, I though thirty-year-olds were supposed to have a little more going on between the ears, but you provin' me wrong, boy," Honey said, visibly agitated.
"Aw, she'll be movin' on soon, I reckon. She sure plans to. Though I hope not too soon … "
"Damn right she will be. I'm kickin' her out. We don't need that kinda trouble around here," Honey said.
"You're not doing any damn thing like it," Reign said, suddenly no longer playful. Honey turned to him, eyebrows raised, as he stared at her. She felt ice plunge into her heart. He meant business.
And she couldn't exactly argue with him, not with him being the likely next president of the Black Smokes. Reign kept his eyes glued to hers as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes, rapping it against the table. Two coffin nails popped out and he brought the pack to his mouth, holding both between his lips, never breaking eye contact. With a flip of his other wrist, he lit his zippo, both cigarettes lighting at once. He puffed on one while grabbing the other, holding it out to Honey.
"Smoke up," he said. "And don't you walk around sayin' you're gonna kick people out. We all been in that girl's place, you know. She needs a place to hideout, this one is as good as any. We'll smell that pig coming miles away. We always do, don't we? And make sure you spread the word that she ain't here. We never seen her. Never even heard of her."
"Uh huh," Honey said, taking the offered cigarette and indulging in a long drag, blowing the smoke above her head, eyes closed as she tried to shake the bad feeling that was trying to settle in her bones.
Women's intuition, she thought. Reign wouldn't get it, but she just had that notion in her heart that this girl was trouble. She seemed sweet enough, and Honey didn't wish her any ill, but that didn't change the fact that battered women with mysterious duffel bags and cop husbands were never going to be anything but bad news.
"Why don't you drink with me, Honey?" Reign said, dropping his death glare and offering a truce in the form of one of his famous, knee-knocking, panty-dropping smiles.
Honey'd been down that road before, most of the chicks had, and knew exactly how much of a man Reign was. She smiled back, in spite of her bad feelings, the affection she felt for the savvy but young biker beating out her cynicism. Pouring them both a shot of vodka, and a screwdriver for herself for the side, they made a toast to damsels in distress.
"You ought to go have a chat with her, Honey," Reign said, somewhat out of nowhere. Honey scoffed. "No, really. You know where her head's at better'n me, probably. And she's smart, real smart, like you. She knows all about these dead old philosophers. She'd listen, if you wanted to give her some advice, I think. C'mon, you got something better to do? Pretend like you're a bartender?"
"I am a bartender, Reign," Honey said with a roll of her eyes, taking another drag of the cigarette. "More like a bar protector. If I weren't here dolin' out the drinks, this place would be dry in an hour from you guys raiding it."
"Aw, what a martyr we got here. Well, whatever, you don't gotta do a damn thing just ‘cause I suggest it. You're just a respectful broad, is all, and that little thing maybe needs to see someone like you, who's been in her shoes, who's come out the other side."
"You think this is comin' out the other side? That girl don't want this life," Honey said.
"Neither did you, when you first come here, did ya? But what do you think comin' out the other side is? You ain't breaking any bones around us, now are you? Nobody giving you shiners anymore. Anyone even try slapping your ass and five guys'd turn his knees to powder," Reign said, sipping his drink slowly.
"Fuck that, I wouldn't need five guys, you know damn well I'd take care of ‘em myself," Honey said with a chuckle and a smile.
"Damn straight. But you came here cowerin' at every little thing, same as her. Don't forget that," Reign said, tapping his knuckles against the bar, the sound of his metal rings against the wood echoing in the silence of the morning. Honey shrugged.
"Maybe," she said, not committing to anything. She didn't want to have to go talk to this poor little girl. She wanted this poor little girl to get gone. But if it would make Reign happy … it was hard to let those eyes down.
Honey didn't fancy Reign like some of the younger girls did, hoping he'd make her his old lady. She didn't want to be anyone's old lady. She liked being everyone's old lady, choosing who she wanted to spend the night with … or not, when she wanted to spend the night alone. But she really, truly liked the kid. He was a good lay, and he had a good heart. And he was rising straight to the top. Always good to be on the right side of a man like that.