Natasha ~ Present
“I’LL BE BACK,” JERICHO’S MOM said, laying a long, wet, quite disgusting kiss on her biker before walking out the door and leaving me behind.
I stood there, at the entrance to his apartment, unsure of what to do next. Afraid to move and call attention to myself, and wondering if he’d notice if I slipped out the door.
“What’s your name?” the man asked gently, causing me to look up.
He was standing before me, with a shirt on now, running his hand through his beard as he watched me warily.
“Natasha,” I replied, still stuck in place.
“Come on in, Natasha, it’s not the Ritz, but you should be able to find a clean place to sit.”
“Maybe I should go?” I asked, not ready to trust him.
“I wouldn’t, not in this neighborhood. Have a seat, I’ll be right back.”
I walked in, looking around the small apartment and seeing that it was indeed neat. There were no beer bottles stacked up, or drug paraphernalia on the coffee table, which, if I was honest, was what I was half expecting to see.
Instead, there were pictures of what looked like grandchildren on his TV, and a couple Harley Davidson magazines on the table.
I sat down on the couch and numbly watched the news playing on the television.
“Here,” he said, coming back in and throwing a pair of pajama pants in my lap, as well as a robe. “Those are my daughter’s, so they should fit.” He added a pair of socks and I almost whimpered with gratitude. I hadn’t realized how cold my feet were until I saw those socks.
I put them on first, ignoring the black dirt on the bottom of my feet, then pulled the pants on under my nightgown.
He’d left again, but came back once I was dressed, a bottle of water in his hand.
“I’m Gregory,” the man said. “Drink this, I’m sure you need it.”
I broke the seal on the water, then took a tentative sip, before taking a few gulps.
“Easy,” Gregory said, and I noticed he had a phone to his ear and a business card in his hand. “Yeah, this is Gregory. The girl, Natasha, is here . . . No, she went to see her PO. She won’t be gone long, so you best hurry.”
I watched him, initially thinking that he was selling me off to someone else, ready to bolt out of this seat and knock him down if necessary, then he looked at me, and I swear, I could see kindness there.
He was nothing like Jericho’s mother.
“That was your PI friend, Mick, darlin’. He came by yesterday, then called last night and told me to call him if I happened to catch sight of you. He’s on his way.”
I started to tremble, a little at first, then in big, rocking waves.
I sat there for what felt like forever, holding my water bottle and looking at, but not watching, the news, until finally there was a knock on the door.
I stood up, then sat back down, thinking, oh God, what if it’s her and not Mick, then Gregory opened the door and Mick stepped in.
He was a formidable-looking man. Large in size and stature, with muscles that didn’t quit, dark hair, and a gruff voice. If you met him in a dark alley, you’d run in the other direction, but his face was kind, and his light-green eyes mesmerizing, and in that moment, he was the best thing I’d ever seen.
I didn’t know him well, in fact, we’d only ever said a few words to each other, but I leapt up and ran to him, not pausing before I rushed into his arms and held on for dear life.
“There’s a lass,” Mick said, more softly than I knew he could speak, as he patted my back reassuringly. “Thanks, Gregory. I talked to the PO, so she shouldn’t be darkening your door again today. I’m going to get this one outta here.”
I felt Mick lead me out of the apartment, and turned quickly to say, “Thank you,” to Gregory, before I let Mick take me down the stairs and out of the apartment complex to where his truck was waiting.
He helped me inside, then rounded the truck and got in the driver’s seat. When we were off the streets and turning onto the highway, he handed me his phone and said, “You should give Jericho a call.”
“Thanks,” I said, thinking I could say that to him every hour of every day and it still wouldn’t be enough.
“It’s Mick,” I heard Jericho say, before he put the phone to his ear and said, “Hello.”
“Jericho,” I managed, my voice breaking.
“Tash,” he replied, his cracking with emotion as well. “He’s got you?”
“Yeah,” I said, then I started crying so hard I could no longer make sounds that formed words.
“Tasha, baby, you’re okay,” Jericho said soothingly, and I wanted to see him, to touch him so badly, that I started crying harder.
Knowing I wasn’t going to stop anytime soon, I thrust the phone toward Mick.
“It’s me,” Mick said. “She’s good. Unharmed, but shook up. No, she wasn’t there, dropped Natasha with the guy she’s currently shacked up with and went to see her PO, who was waiting to take her back into custody. Yeah, we’re headed straight for ya, no stops unless she needs to. Yup. Later.”
“Your family’s at Jericho’s so we’ll go straight there,” Mick said, his tone soothing as he spoke to me. “You can lay down if you need to, just holler if you need to stop for anything: food, drink, facilities . . . whatever.”
I laid down, careful not to take up too much of his space in the cab of the truck, and when his hand patted my shoulder, offering me comfort, I took it, then I dozed off.