Lala
Rough fingers trail a line up and down my arm, leaving a wake of goose bumps behind. We’ve been like this for a while now. The only reason I know he’s awake is because his hand hasn’t stopped.
“Babe?” His voice deep and scratchy.
“Hmm?” I’m too tired and comfortable for words.
“Headin’ out for a few days in the mornin’?” My heart hits my ribs and anxiety begins to run rampant through my chest. He’s leaving? I know I shouldn’t panic at the idea, but I do. These past few weeks he’s been with me every day, a constant source of dependability.
“Oh, uh… okay. How long will you been gone?” I try to sound unaffected, pretending it doesn’t bother me. I don’t want to be that annoying needy bitch, so I suck it up.
“A few days, but Lala?”
“Yeah?”
“Takin’ your ass with me, babe.”
****
Rampage won’t tell me anything. He said pack a small bag and that was all. Now I’m pressed into this back, arms resting around his waist and fingers twisted in his t-shirt. Lush greens and yellows fly by as Rampage roars down the old highway through the forest. The smell of rain, forest, and fresh air swirl around me and I love it. I never thought a motorcycle and a highway could bring so much peace and calm, but it does.
Pulling off of the highway, the road narrows and the forest closes in on the single lane road. The sun is blocked out by the overgrown trees, along with the air, which gets cooler the deeper we go. I see a beautiful blue lake up ahead, the crystal water stretching as far as the eye can see.
Pulling down a pebbled drive, a small moss and ivy covered cottage comes into view.
“Up ‘n off, babe.” The first words he’s spoken in a few hours, and those words always make me smile. Getting off the bike has become a little easier each time, but still I pray I don’t land on my ass. There is a fifty-fifty chance my ass will find cement each time I get off, but so far I’ve not embarrassed myself too bad.
Watching Rampage get off of the bike, he’s pure man. Dark, dirty jeans, black boots, blue t-shirt, which is covered by his cut. His face is covered in a dark blue bandana, making him look more foreboding and mean. The only thing I can see are those dark menacing eyes. A deep brown that’s so dark, it borders on black. Those eyes full of soul and worry. Eyes that have seen and dealt death. Eyes that are haunting, and to me, they’re perfect.
“What is this place?” Rampage steers me toward the door. His hands and chin rest on my shoulders, his beard scraping on my skin.
“A house.”
“Smart-ass.”
“Rather be a smart-ass than a dumb-ass, babe,” He fires back. Well he’s got me there and his words make me laugh. It’s a rare thing when he’s anything other than hard, so when he’s like this, I enjoy it. When I look up at him, he actually smiles. It’s soft and little, but it’s a smile.
“Really, what is this place?”
“A cabin in the forest.”
“How’d you know about it?”
“Like you, I had a shit childhood. Mom brought me here when I was little, maybe six. One of the only fun things she did with me; one of the few good things I remember about her.” My heart hurts for that little six-year old Jameson.
“What was your mom’s name?” His hands on my shoulders tighten and I can feel his body go rigid behind me.
After a long quiet moment, he says, “Georgia.” I don’t push for more. That’s more than enough for me.
“Thank you. So why’d you bring me here?”
“It’s your birthday.” He says simply. I don’t ask how he knows ‘cause it doesn’t matter.
The cottage is small, it’s old, it’s in need of repair, but it’s perfect. Just like the small beach house we stayed at, this one is full of old rustic charm and character. It’s beautiful.
****
“Thank you for bringin’ me here.” I feel those damn tears well up. Jesus Christ, Rampage has turned me into a big ass baby. It’s hard not to get emotional because he’s been so wonderful. Taking care of me, looking out for me. I give nothing in return, yet he’s still here, being so damn good to me.
“Don’t start gettin’ all girly on me, babe.” He looks a little scared, which makes me laugh.
“But you’re just so good to me. Why? I just don’t get it.”
“Why?”
“Yeah. I mean, you’re not nice to anyone like you’ve been nice to me, so why?” A big arm wraps around my neck, pulling me further into him. His lips press into the top of my head.
“Lala, don’t ask that kinda shit. You know why, baby. Now go to sleep.” His hand stops moving after about ten minutes. I’m almost sure he’s asleep ‘‘til I hear him whisper, “Because I fuckin’ care about you.”
****
The tantalizing smell of breakfast pulls me from my sleep. The bed dips and a big hand lands on my lower back. Pressing his face into my neck, Rampage growls, “Wake your ass up.” No good morning. No traditional soft and sweet, this is his soft and sweet. Rolling over, his large body looms over me. A white tray with a plate full of whipped cream, strawberries, and waffles wait for me next to him.
“You made me breakfast?”
“Tried.” He tried? Well it looks like he succeeded. In fact, it looks mouthwatering.
“It looks delicious.”
“We’ll see.” Damn him.
“Shut up and hand me the plate.” At that I’m rewarded with my plate and a smile. A fucking smile. It’s perfect. He’s fucking beautiful when he smiles. Best.Birthday.Ever!
****
“Alright. Whatcha wanna do today?” He asks with his arms crossed over his chest, ankles crossed at the feet, leaning against his bike.
“I get to pick?” That’s seriously surprising.
“Your birthday, right?”
“Right.”
“So what are we doin’? Pick whatever the fuck ya want.”
“I want a tattoo.” That surprises him. His eyes widen and he looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. It’s something I’ve always wanted, and I couldn’t think of a better time than right now.
“A tattoo?”
“Yep.”
“You want a tattoo? You get a tattoo. I know a guy, so hop on.”
****
I left a grumbly and growly Rampage in the front of the small tattoo parlor. I followed a man to the back room, tattooed from head to toe, ears gaged, and bald. He introduced himself as Snake and I knew I’d like him. Snake had a big ass smile from ear to ear when I told Rampage it was a surprise and he’d couldn’t watch.
“Love virgin skin,” Snake said, rubbing his hands together and giving a smirk to a very pissed off Rampage as he led me back. I can tell Snake is fun.
“Up on the stool, darlin’,” He nods at a plastic covered stool.
“So, you’re a friend of Rampage’s?” I inquire. I don’t know a whole lot about Rampage, so whatever I can get, I’ll take.
“He’s my brother. I’m a Nomad of the Disciples, babe.”
“Oh.” I remind myself to ask Rampage what the hell a nomad is. No way in hell am I asking Snake. He’d probably laugh if I did.
“You’re Rampage’s old lady, huh?” He says with his back to me as he sets up his gun. It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. I don’t answer, because I have no clue what to say to that. “So. Where am I tattooing on that perfect, clean skin?”