Lala
I wake up with Rampage saying my name, looking down at me. All I can do is smile at his beautiful face, and I get a smile from him in return. He should definitely smile more often. Once he brought me to his room last night, all I could see was his warm, comfortable bed, and a welcome feeling of safety. I didn’t mean to fall asleep, but my body just completely shut down on me and I couldn’t hold myself up any longer. I never took Rampage for a guy who would have such a big, comfy bed with lots of blankets and pillows.
It had been such a long week between school, work and Ryan. He won’t leave and I won’t sleep when he’s there. I have even driven out to busy parking lots, hoping to just get lost in the sea of vehicles and get a little bit of sleep when I could. I had nothing and no one, so I’ve learned to just deal with it and take things as they come.
Ryan had decided my place was as good as any to crash at. For the first day or two, it was okay. He didn’t bother me much and I stayed out of his way, but I knew he was biding his time, waiting for me to do or say the wrong thing, and without any help from me, it happened last night. He’s extremely aggressive when he he’s high and drunk.
He was so wasted, he could barely talk, let alone walk. He walked in demanding things from me that I wasn’t willing to give him. I stood my ground until he flung me down on the couch and started ripping at my clothes. He’s taken a lot from me over the years, but he will never take my body again.
I punch him hard in the face, but of course, he pulls back and hits me twice as hard in the jaw. Thank God he was so fucked up because I was able to get away from him and into my car before he could catch me. While I was jumbling with the keys I grabbed from the table at the front door, he had time to grab a rock and smash it through the window, effectively hitting me in the face before I was able to drive away. I’d gladly take hits to the face before I ever let that piece of shit fuck me again.
I drove around for a while. Once the adrenaline finally started to wear off, I knew I couldn’t keep driving, but I had nowhere to go. I have no family, no friends. Lil is my only friend, and she is out of town. My home was out of the question and I didn’t want to waste money for even a cheap motel. I was out of options. That big compound of cinderblock, steal, chain link fences and rough men was the only place I could think of. If I was careful, maybe I could park close and just try to get some rest. The thought of being close to those walls felt safer than anywhere else I could possibly think of. They were nice to me once before, so I prayed if they found me outside their compound, they wouldn’t hurt me. They may not be the safest bet, but I was living on a prayer when I pulled up, parked my car and got comfortable with a small blanket and a ball bat that I had stowed away in the back.
I took a chance. I don’t know what could happen to me here, but I’m more afraid of dying at the hands of Ryan. As twisted as it may be, I would rather die at the hands of a stranger than give Ryan the satisfaction of taking one more thing from me. I’m tired of fighting and being backed into a corner, but I have officially run out of options. I’m also hoping this isn’t an even bigger mistake.
****
“You hungry?” Rampage asks from the side of the bed. He watches me like I’m a caged animal, ready to lose my shit at any moment. His unease makes me a little uneasy, but not uneasy enough to get up and leave.
I am hungry. Shit’s been so crazy that I forgot to eat. “I could eat,” I tell him tentatively. My answer rewards me with a nice lazy grin, a grin I really like seeing.
“Get some shit on and we’ll go.”
“I don’t have clothes with me,” I say with a shrug.
Rampage stands up from the bed and nods, “Know that. Talked to Sis this mornin’ and she’s got shit in her room.” He talked to Lil? I would feel strange borrowing her stuff without asking her myself.
“No, that’s alright. I’m not as hungry as I thought.”
Rampage gives me a hard, unforgiving stare. Crossing his arms he looks annoyed, “Use her shit. Don’t make me tell Sis you said no. No one needs that girl pissy.” Walking to the door, he throws it open, “Come on.”
I follow without a word, because frankly, Rampage intimidates me and I don’t want to piss him off. We walk down a long hall dotted with doors. All closed, all with these little silver numbers on them. I wonder what they mean, but I’m not stupid enough to ask.
The door we come to is at the end. It reads, one in shiny silver. Pulling keys out of his pocket, he unlocks the door and pushes it open for me, “It’s all in the closet. She said her girly shit is in the bathroom, too.” Nodding toward the closet, he adds, “Get some shit, babe.”
The small closet is dominated with women’s clothes, along with tiny boy outfits. Only a few items of men’s clothing hang on the bar. Sorting through Lil’s stuff, I feel Rampage’s intense gaze on me, watching every movement, so I hurry it up.
I pick a soft light blue V-neck t-shirt and a pair of white shorts. My blue chucks will match just fine. Piling the clothes in my arms, I hit the bathroom next. Taking what I need, I follow Rampage back to his room. Once inside, he points to the door in the corner and grunts, “bathrooms in there. Use whatever ya want. Get ready ‘n come find me when you’re done.”
I shower and get ready quickly. I use his soap, but sadly, there’s no shampoo. I throw on my clothes, sans panties next. Borrowing panties is never okay, so I’m rocking commando.
Looking in the mirror, I see the nice new addition to my face. A lovely three-inch cut, right under my eye stares back at me. It’s a beauty, but it’s not one of his finer jobs. Regardless, it’s still nasty, but I have sunglasses big enough to hide it pretty well.
Toothbrush. Shit, I need a toothbrush. Opening and closing drawers and cupboards, I don’t find any spares. Rampage’s sits in the holder, staring me down. I think about it and decide fuck it, and I brush my teeth with his toothbrush. I don’t feel bad or wrong about it. I braid my hair to the side in a messy braid and slip on my chucks… and I’m ready.
I make my way down the long hall, hearing voices and music filtering through from the living space. Walking into the large open room, all conversations stop and all eyes land on me. I feel like squirming under their stares, but I keep it in check.
I scan the room and find Rampage standing by the bar across the room. The redhead leans against him, talking closely, but his eyes are on me. Stepping away from the woman, he walks toward me, not giving her a second look. She glares at me, but I just ignore her, too. She’s the woman from the first night I met Rampage. Red, I think is what they called her.
Throwing an arm around my shoulders once he reaches me, he looks down at me with a small, almost unnoticeable smile on his lips. For a minute he stares and I feel awkward. The need to say something, anything, nags at me, “I used your toothbrush.” Why did I just say that?
Cracking a small lazy grin, he says, “Good to know.” I’m such a dumbass, but at least it earned me a smile.
He walks us toward the front door while everyone just stares. Most seem shocked, and some seem a little confused. I keep my head down and my eyes on the ground, hoping to draw as little attention to myself as possible.
He keeps his arm around my shoulders till we get to his motorcycle, where I see the Chevy parked next to a row of bikes with the window fixed. He fixed it? When?
Walking over, I peek inside and the car is cleaned of any glass. It’s like it was never broken.
“You fixed it?” I squeak out, trying to choke back tears as I run my hand over the new window. I know he heard it in my voice, but I don’t want him to see all the emotions I have going through me right now. No one ever does shit for me, but here’s Rampage, turning into my saving grace.
“Yep,” he says.
“Thank you, Rampage.” Nodding, he goes about messing with his motorcycle. Thank you just doesn’t seem like enough.
“Really, thank you. I don’t know how to repay you for what you’ve done for me.”
Looking over his shoulder he nods again, “Don’t worry ‘bout it, babe.”
I don’t know what to do or say, so I just watch him for a second while he crouches down and works on his bike. Sticking a silver tool back into the side of his bike, he gets up and comes over to me.
Lifting his chin at the bike he asks, “You ride?” I shake my head no. “Imma get on, and you get on behind me,” he tells me plainly. A mix of anxiety and excitement come over me. I’ve never been on a motorcycle before. I watch his jeans stretch and pull over his thick legs as he lifts himself over the bike. Looking back at me, he jerks his head for me to come over to him once he’s settled.
“Put your hands on my shoulders for support. Throw your leg over ‘n you’ll be good.”
I do as he tells me. It’s not nearly as graceful as he was, but I don’t land on my ass, so I’d call it a success.
“Lean into me,” he demands shortly.
I do, but I try to give him his space. I don’t know where to put my body. I’m not sure of where to put my hands either, so I fold them in front of me. Should I sit back or forward, right or left. Where the hell do my feet go? Oh Jesus.
“Umm…”
He shakes his head at me and chuckles. The sound stops me in my hunt for the perfect riding position. He doesn’t laugh, but hearing him makes me smile. He just shakes his head when he realizes I’m staring at him.
Reaching back, he wraps both hands around my thighs, tugs me close and lifts my legs to place my feet on the foot pegs. God, he smells so good – clean and fresh, with a hint of cologne.
“You need to stay just like that.”
With one last squeeze of my leg, he lets go. I almost grab his hands and put them back, wanting the contact. My thoughts are immediately blasted away from the roar of the bike as he starts it up.
Tilting his head, he says, “Just relax. Arms around me ‘n hold on.” Grabbing my hands in his, he pulls them around his waist, letting them rest low on his thighs. Giving my hand a little squeeze, he lets them go and grabs onto the handlebars.
“Lean when I lean. Move with me ‘n the bike, baby.”
I can’t keep this stupid ass grin off of my face. I’m taking my first ever motorcycle ride, but I’m even more excited about the man who is taking me on it. I keep my body pressed tight against his as he takes off, and as we ride, he occasionally reaches back to touch my leg, or squeezes my hands for reassurance.
I can see why people love this. The longer we ride, the lighter I feel. I get a sudden urge to just beg Rampage to keep going, taking me away from all the stress and pain in my life, even though I know running will never change my circumstances, at least not for long, so I just enjoy this for as long as I can.
We ride for a while until Rampage starts to slow down. He turns and pulls into a small parking lot with a shack of a restaurant, parks the bike, and shuts off the engine.
“Hands on my shoulders, push up ‘n off.”
I do as he says. I make it off as well as I made it on, which means I made it on my feet, not on my ass, and that’s all that matters.
“You like it.” He states. It’s not a question. I just nod because it’s impossible to speak with this stupid ass smile on my face. Reaching out, he runs his thumb over my lower lip, tracing my smile.
“That is one of the best fucking smiles I have ever seen, babe,” his eyes darken and he licks his lips. My body reacts instantly. I stick my tongue out, licking his thumb and watch as his eyes flare with something scary and exciting.
Pulling his hand away, he shakes his head and quietly says, “Let’s go in before I do somethin’ you’ll regret.”
****
We’re seated in a booth where the seats are ripped to shreds. Our table has a phone book under the leg, just to keep it steady. The God-awful, puke green Formica table is flaking and chipping, while the walls have old smoke stains. The dust and soot are so thick, you could write your name on them. The bar is scuffed and scarred, and all the stools are mismatched. The waitress looks just as old as the weathered wood siding, but she’s friendly.
As soon as our asses hit the seats, we have coffee poured and sitting in front of us. With a raspy chuckle, the waitress welcomes us with, “Mornin’. Welcome to the Red Rooster.”
The place is falling apart from the inside out, but good God, they have the best breakfast I have ever eaten. Huge, fluffy pancakes, and the best biscuits and gravy I have ever tasted. I will definitely be eating here again, no matter how far I have to drive to get here.
Rampage is sitting across from me, eating a burger for breakfast. I watched as he began to pick the thing apart the second it was set in front of him.
“Why didn’t you just order it plain?” I ask him.
Lifting an eyebrow he says, “Bob don’t cook for picky fucks like me.” Taking off the pickles, tomatoes, onions and lettuce, he sets them on the edge of my plate.
“What do ya want me to do with them?”
“Don’t care. Just don’t want that shit near my food.” Fine I’ll eat them.
“You don’t like fresh veggies?”
“Fuck no. Nasty shit.” His burger is now nothing but two half pounds of greasy meat, a quarter pound of bacon, and at least four slices of gooey processed cheese sitting in between two buns. It’s a heart attack on a plate.
Picking up the tomato, I take a bite. It’s ripe and juicy. Rampage visibly cringes when it touches my lips.
“These are so good,” I observe around an exaggerated “Mmm…”
He actually screws his face up in disgust, “I’ll take your word for it.”
“You don’t eat any veggies? Fruits? Anything that is actually good for you?”
“Potatoes count?” What a man thing to say. It is considered a veggie, but it’s a starchy carb, so it’s obviously not the healthiest vegetable he can eat.
“Sure, I guess so.”
“Then yeah, I eat potatoes, but other than that, it’s not going in my mouth.” He waves a disgusted hand at my plate.
“Well I’ll eat them. I love veggies.”.
We eat in silence, catching glimpses of each other here and there. I know that he’s staring at me, like he’s trying to figure me out. I can’t complain. It’s probably the same way I’m looking at him. One thing that I can say is that even with the staring, I feel completely at ease with this man.
“So, you from ‘round here?”
“Originally. I was born here, but I’ve lived everywhere. How about you?”
Taking a drink of his beer, during breakfast I might add, he sits back and looks thoughtful for a second, “All my goddamn life.”
“You got family here?” I knew that question was coming. Shaking my head, I look down, trying desperately to avoid this.
“No Mom or Dad? Brothers and Sisters?” He pushes and again, but I just shake my head. I don’t have anything to say on the subject, so I try to take the heat off of me.
“Do you have family?”
“Yep. The club’s my family.” That doesn’t exactly answer my question. Just like I’ve been doing, he’s avoiding the question.
“No Mom or Dad? Brothers and Sisters?” I counter back.
“Nope.”
I know that’s all I’m getting and I think I’ve made my point. If he doesn’t push, I won’t push.
“How long you been livin’ back here?” He asks, changing the topic.
“Just about two years. We moved away when I was 7.”
“You plan of stayin’ ‘round after school?” he asks around a bite of his clogged artery on bread.
Shrugging, I take a bite of my hash browns and gravy, and suddenly the question’s forgotten.
“Mmm… so good,” I mumble around my delicious bite. Rampage chuckles softly, his lips turned up in a small smile.
I don’t answer this question because I just don’t know. I don’t even know what tomorrow holds for me. I’m just going day to day, praying to get through school and getting rid of Ryan.
When I look up at him, he’s staring at me so intently that I know what he’s about to ask me next.
“You gonna tell me ‘bout what happened to the Chevy? Why you were at my place at one in the mornin’?”