Jake walks out, I haven’t been able to move. I have been staring at the space where her car was parked, trying to think. Trying to work out what is the best thing to do. He doesn’t say much, just stands next to me. Staring off as well.
“He may say he’s my brother, but he isn’t my brother.” I turn to his words, they’re soft, unlike him. “You are that.” I nod my head, he is that for me. Has been since we were teenagers.
“Are you going to kill him?” He said he would, but the reaction from Rose might have him back peddling.
“I don’t know, she will hate me.”
“She will,” I agree.
“Maybe slice him up a bit more, then send him packing?” He nods his head. He takes a few steps then stands in front of me, his face mixed with emotions, but the main one I can see is determination.
“I’m leaving, Black, I’m leaving tomorrow.” I knew it was coming. It’s what he wants, he doesn’t want to stay somewhere and watch what may or may not happen between Rose and me. I don’t even know what will happen.
“I need some favors first.”
His eyebrows raise in surprise. “Tell me.”
“I need a steel coffin.”
His mouth hangs open, then shuts. “You’re joking, right?”
“No, and I need it by tonight.”
“Where the fuck am I meant to find a coffin? Let alone a steel one?”
“Your boys are good with steel, ring them and tell them I need it, now.”
“They hate you.”
He shakes his head in disbelief.
“They don’t hate you.”
He nods his head and goes back to staring out into nothing but gravel road and long grass.
“You better go after her.” His arms are crossed, his lips are tight.
“She needs time.”
“She doesn’t. Go… now,” he says as he stops clenching his fists, then he turns and walks back to the house.
The drive is quiet, I try to think of the best possible thing to say to her, I am not good with words, so I come up blank every time. I see her car parked in the driveway, and as I look closer, I see she is still in it, sitting there, doing nothing. She jumps when I open the door, her face red from anger or hurt, I am not sure which one.
“Should we talk?” I give her the option, she sits there playing with her fingers.
A moment of silence passes before her eyes seek mine and she speaks. “I think it may be best.”
“What do you need from me?”
“If you would have asked me that question a few months ago, the answer would have been simple.”
“It’s not as simple anymore?” she shakes her head. “It’s not.”
“It’s who I am.”
She rolls her eyes, her mouth goes tight. “It’s who you know, who you think you are, it’s not who you are.”
“You think love changes things, Rose? Do you? Love is just a cover up, it’s not who you are.”
“Don’t bullshit me, I can’t handle more shit today.” She steps from the car, her back against the door, her eyes dance from the floor up to me. I step closer, my hand moves up, the same time her hand comes up in defense, stopping me by touching my chest. The only hands I ever want to touch me there again. I lean in close, my mouth near her ear, her breathing becomes heavier.
“You’ve hurt me, not put us first, even after you remembered. I need time, Liam, I need to work out what’s best for us, for our family. And right now, it can’t have you in it while I work it out.” A sob breaks free. “I can’t believe I just said those words to you, to you of all people. The person who I love that holds me so tightly that I find it hard to breathe.”
“It’s okay to think of yourself, Rose, most people do. Think for yourself, I’ll be here. I will always be here, just maybe not in the manner in which you need me to be.”
I kiss her cheek, she closes her eyes. I kiss her again, moving closer and closer to her lips with each kiss. My lips touch the edges of hers. She opens, giving me access to her and the kiss is beautiful, unlike our previous kisses. This one speaks of missed time, hello, as well as goodbye. I can feel her passion toward it, her hands are everywhere now, up and down my back, on my face, through my hair. I am exactly the same, trying with each beat to get her to me, to keep her locked to me.
Then she pulls away, stepping away from me, gaining distance from us.
“You should go.” She wipes at her lips, taking me off of her, any trace of me now gone.
I reach up to touch her one last time, her face, her hand, anywhere. But she pulls away even more. My hand drops so I turn leaving her standing there, leaving a piece of me behind with her.
A few hours later, in a place I haven’t been back to, I stand there as my phone starts to ring. I want to ignore it, I don’t want to hear anything anyone has to say. I look to the screen, it’s Jake.
“You owe me so fucking big,” are his first words.
“Jake,” I warn him.
“Okay, okay. The boys did it. You’re extremely lucky that they had everything. It’s built.”
“It’s done?”
“Yes.”
“What do you plan to do once you have done this?”
“I don’t know.”
“You do know, you will do whatever is possible to keep her and to make her happy. She deserves it.”
“Are you my Fairy Godmother now?” His laugh vibrates through my phone.
“Yes, tatted up, scarred up, motherfucking scary godmother, now do as I say and be a good bitch.”
“You may have speed over me, Jake, but not with a gun.”
“You always bring out your macho man ways.”
“You can’t handle my macho ways.” His laugh is full, it makes me remember the time we first met.
I met Jake when I was fifteen years old, he was not popular, but he was no loner either. He seemed to have his own circle, which consisted of just him. Yes, he occasionally spoke to other students and they would attempt to make conversation with him, sometimes he would engage but most times not. Everyone was scared of him, not so much him but his family especially his father. They all knew his father was in an MC, and that his father was the president. They had all seen the bikes that came to pick him up after school, they were hard to miss.
I used to people watch after school, watch the way they interacted, watch body language, it was an escape, home held nightmares, I tried to avoid going there for as long as possible. Ever since she died, I never wanted to go home. One afternoon while I sat on the basketball court, with my shoes that had holes in them and my clothes two sizes too small from how fast I was growing, someone stood in front of me, blocking the sun. I looked up, a boy was standing there, the boy that always got picked up by the loud bikers.
“You retarded or something?” He looked down at me, his hand holding the strap of his bag over his shoulder. I didn’t say anything, he didn’t seem to care. “You look like you crawled from a dumpster, did ya know that? Your clothes are too small.” He pointed down at my obvious clothing that was so tight I hated putting them on. My body had packages, packages that were being squeezed by tight clothes. “Anyway, my dad’s teaching me how to shoot today, wanna come?” My head popped up with the thought of touching a gun but, more importantly, the thought of using that gun on the man in my house. “Ah huh that interests you. Come on.” He waved his hand, and I followed. He didn’t shut up the whole walk back to his house. Not once. He laughed at his own jokes, and he didn’t care that I didn’t speak.
“Holy Donkey Kong shit,” he spat out. I lowered the gun in my hand. He was watching me. I liked it, I liked the gun a lot. I shrugged my shoulders, and he turned to his father. His dad was watching me with interest. I came around for days and never missed a target, soon they started providing me with clothes. I never spoke to anyone after she died, until Jake.
“Do you ever shut up?” I asked him. I was dressed in his clothes. His father gives him the men’s clothes that don’t fit them anymore, most are brand new. Today I had on all new clothing that actually fit me perfectly. Jake was being Jake, chatting like a school girl. He stopped and turned to me.
“Do you ever shut up? Seriously, do you know hard it is for me to get a word in?” He was acting serious, I thought then he had mental problems, until he laughed, slapped my back and kept walking, not waiting for me to catch up with him.