17
No Love
Rampage
I realize what I’ve said the second that shit leaves my mouth, “I don’t fuckin’ love anyone.” I instantly regret the mean fucking way I say it. Those big blue eyes close slowly and a small, pained smile touches those plump lips. That sad smile tells me how let down and disappointed she is in me. Oh yeah, I fucking broke her good. She doesn’t have to say it. I know what I said hurt the fuck out of her feelings, but what the fuck was I supposed to say?
Was I supposed to say I love her? Do I even love her? It’s fucking doubtful. I don’t love anyone. I’m not one of those sad pricks who doesn’t think they’re deserving of it. I wasn’t fucked over by some bitch. I wasn’t dumped or had my sad ass heart broken. I don’t have some fucked up childhood story about never being loved. I just don’t think about it or feel it. Love is just a fucking word anyway. In the end, love just turns good shit into bad shit. The more you love, the more you have to lose. Why mess up a good thing with love? We’ve been going strong for a year, why fuck that up?
Look at Tank and Lil. They love each other so goddamn much they hurt each other. Cali and Stitch love each other so much they fuck other people. Gin and Peaches love each other to the point of hate half the time. My mom wasted her love on a sick bastard who only ended up breaking her down and killing her in the end. I loved my mom once upon a time, and look what that got me? Love can come and go, so what’s the fucking point?
I care about Lala. Fuck do I care about her. I care about her to the point of it feeling like a sickness, irrational and crazy. It’d kill me to see something bad happen to her. I’d do anything for her. I’d give that woman my life, gladly take a bullet for her. There’s not a goddamn thing on this earth that I wouldn’t give her if she needed it. And I’m okay with that shit. But do I love her? No. I’ve got no love to give.
Lil got a crying and screaming Red out of my face, but the show is far from over. Everyone saw and heard that shit, making Lala look and feel worthless, but instead of lashing out, she sits quietly on the stool. She’s not looking at me and she’s not talking.
“Lala?” I’m not gonna lie and give her some kind of shit hope. I won’t pretend I’ve got love for her when it’d be a goddamn lie.
“You don’t love me?” She asks softly. The sadness in her voice hurts me, but again, I’m not gonna lie. We play house. What we’re doing could look like it was going somewhere and shit, but never once have I led Lala to think that she was getting a happily ever after with me. I don’t promise shit to anyone.
“No, Lala, I don’t. It’s not that you’re not worth lovin’, I just don’t got an interest in that shit. I fuckin’ care ‘bout you though.” She nods once with determination and lets it go. That’s it. That’s all I’m getting from her, and I feel like I’ve been punched in the chest.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wonder if I made a huge fucking mistake. A ball of dread settles in the pit of my stomach, making me wonder if I should have just lied. Should I have said fuck it and told her what I thought she wanted to hear, just to make her smile. How could giving her that hurt me in any way? It’s a fucking word, dammit. I don’t plan on letting her ass go anytime soon, and I sure as fuck don’t plan on getting with any other bitch.
So what would it have mattered if I fucking lied to spare her feelings? I know she wouldn’t be sitting here, holding her feelings in and looking heartbroken if I would’ve just said I did. Fuck, I think I may have just fucked up the best thing I’ve ever had going in my life.
She gets up off the bar stool and heads toward the back hall without a word, and I let her go. Watching her walk away sends a fucking panic attack straight to my goddamn heart. I fight with myself not to get up and go after her, but in the end, this is how this shit was going to go. This shit is not fixable.
What if she decides to leave me over this shit? This might just be the thing to break her. She deserves someone who fucking loves her. Could I let her go so she could find someone who’d love her the way she should be loved? Fuck no.
I start wondering what it’d be like to not have her in my life anymore. What would it be like to sleep alone again? How would it feel to never have her on the back of my bike again? What if I never got that fucking smile again or that damn attitude? Could I handle coming home to an empty fucking house?
I don’t want to think about that shit. Fuck, I don’t want to have to live with that shit. In my dead, sad heart, I know I couldn’t live without her. There can’t be a life for me without Lala in it.
****
“You’ve got no love for her?” Tags asks me while he sips his beer. I knew the shit I said didn’t go unnoticed. Took five minutes of my ass sitting at the bar alone before brothers started asking questions. I should have known. This motherfucking club ain’t big enough for someone not to hear what’s said and leave it alone. I’m just not that fucking lucky.
Shrugging, I swallow back a shot of Maker’s Mark and enjoy the dull burn. Maybe in my own fucked up way, I do love her, but not the way she deserves, so I can’t give her some half ass, sick sort of love. She needs more.
This sort of obsession and crazy starts to look a whole fuck of a lot like love to stupid fuckers, but it’s not real. I’m not that stupid fucking asshole. I know exactly what this is. It’s a whole lot of amazing sex with someone you get comfortable with enough to be yourself around. Nothing more. Nothing less.
“If she ain’t gonna be your old lady, cut her loose, brother. It’s been a year and it’s fuckin’ time.” Gin tips his beer at the empty hallway where Lala went.
“Can’t.” That’s the fucking truth. I can’t let her go. Not willingly. What I’ve got with her I’ll never, not on my fucking life, find again. I’m not stupid enough to let it go without a goddamn fight.
“If you don’t, ‘n she stays with shit exactly the same, especially after what you said, it’s gonna eat at her and she’ll end up hatin’ you.” I know Lala could never hate me. She probably should, but I don’t think that sweet ass girl has it in her to hate anyone.
“You kept Peaches around doin’ the same shit.”
“Exactly. It’s why she fuckin’ hates me most the time.” True. I sure as fuck don’t want the sick thing those two have.
“Make her permanent or let someone else, man. Plain and simple. Care ‘bout her enough to let someone love her the way she should be loved, asshole,” Tags grumbles, pushing away from the bar.
“What’s his fuckin’ problem? He got a thing for Lala?” He better fucking hope he doesn’t.
“Nah. He’s just bitchy ‘bout his bitch. She won’t let him fuck her anymore.” Didn’t think I’d see the day when a bitch would bother with Tags.
“But brother, figure it out with Lala. Don’t just hold her here because you’re too selfish to let her go. Know you care ‘bout her. Don’t treat her like a whore. That shit ruins good women. Do right by her, man.”
Not that easy. I don’t have it in me to just cut her loose, no matter how much it hurts her to stay here with me. I can’t live without her.