CHAPTER FIVE
“Hey, little one. Got a minute?”
Seated cross-legged on the bed in the little purple room, Adrienne looked up from her Mac. Her digital Nikon was still connected to it, so she dragged the camera icon to the trash. As she looked up and smiled at Show, who was leaning against the door frame, she pulled the linking cable free.
“Hi. Yeah, sure. Come in.” She set her camera aside and closed her Mac. Show didn’t need to see that she’d been looking at photos she’d taken of Badger.
Shannon and Lilli had taken Lilli’s kids and gone to Springfield for the day. They’d invited Adrienne along, but she hadn’t been feeling it. She’d been distracted and vaguely ill all week, worried about Badger. The thought of pretending to be bright and chipper during a day of shopping for baby stuff and wandering around the town’s little zoo with two kids was too exhausting to entertain. So she’d begged off.
Shannon didn’t know anything about what had happened, because everybody had decided that her wacked-out hormones had her too emotionally fragile to deal with what Badger had done. She thought he was away from the B&B recovering from a beating he’d taken at Tuck’s, and she thought Adrienne had been hit in the mouth when her car door blew closed on her. She’d believed those stories completely. Adrienne supposed they were a lot more believable than the reality that sweet Badger was a violent junkie and had hurt her.
Instead of going with Shannon and Lilli, and with the whole day to herself, Adrienne had wandered around Signal Bend and the surrounding countryside, exploring and taking pictures. And then she’d come back and uploaded them to her Mac. She’d ended up going through all the photos she’d taken during the years she’d been coming to Signal Bend. Thousands of them.
A lot of pictures of Badger. He was—he was beautiful to her. It wasn’t just his looks, which were great. It was the way you could look at him and just feel like you knew him. When he didn’t know he was being observed, when he was simply at rest with himself, his natural expression was serious but still kind and intent. She’d always thought of it as the way somebody would look who was, like, writing poetry in his head or something. Like his mind was always working, like he was always seeing more than other people could see.
She had a lot of pictures of him not looking at the camera, pictures he didn’t know had been taken until after the fact, if then. In her favorite shot, he was leaning against the railing on Isaac and Lilli’s porch, a flowered coffee mug in his hand. He was looking down and to the side, exactly as if he were exploring a thought. His long hair was loose, which was rare, and a gentle breeze blew it lightly around his shoulders. His beard was full and lush.
Adrienne could look at the photo and see through her camera’s eye that she’d loved Badger long before she’d internalized that truth. Not half-love. Real love.
But she didn’t know what to do with that. He’d always brushed her off, and now, even if he wouldn’t brush her off, he was not in a good place. She felt like she got more confused with every day.
Show came in and sat down on the bed with her. She was about to ask him how he was doing when she noticed that his hand was bruised and scraped. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen evidence that he’d been fighting, but she hadn’t gotten used to it.
“Are you okay?”
“Hmm? Yeah, sure.” He followed the trail of her eyes. “Ah. Yeah. I’m fine. Want to talk to you, though.”
That sounded dire. “Okay…”
“I love you, Adrienne. You know that, right?”
She did. There was something safe about being loved by somebody like Show. Big, strong, steady, kind. She’d seen another side of him, too, but it hadn’t changed that sense of safety and comfort.
“Yeah. I love you, too.”
He smiled and picked up her hand, engulfing it in his palm. “I want you to go home, Adrienne. I want you to leave in the morning.”
All that safe comfort was just gone, knocked out of her with a two-by-four of shock. “What? No! Why? What did I do?”
“Easy, sweetheart.” With his free hand, the one with the raw knuckles, he reached out and brushed his fingers down her face, a gentle sweep from her temple to her jaw. Then he lifted her chin, his thumb moving over the thin cut that remained on her bottom lip. “You didn’t do anything wrong—that’s the farthest thing from true. I love having you with us. Shannon loves having you here. You’ve been a big help to her this week, and it makes her happy just to spend time with you. Me, too. But it’s not good for you here. There’s too much going on. You’re better off in New York.”
“This is about Badger, isn’t it?” She pulled her head out of his hold, and he let his hand drop to his leg. But he held on to her hand and gave it a squeeze.
“I told you—you need to stay away from him. Things with him are not good. He’s not good for you. He hurt you once, and he doesn’t get a second shot at you. I will not let that happen.”
“It’s not your call, Show.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, little one. It is my call. I make it my call. You’re going home, where you’re safe. I’m not negotiating with you.”
Her heart pounding, she yanked on her hand, but he didn’t let it go. But when she yanked again, harder, he did. “I’m not a kid, Show. I’m not your kid. You don’t have a say. You don’t. I’m not ready to leave.”
“My house, Adrienne.”
“Are you—are you throwing me out?” She jumped up, not sure where she was going, but the adrenaline that was surging into her muscles made her need to move. Had she thought just a minute ago that Show made her feel safe?
He grabbed her wrist and held on. “No. No, Adrienne. You always have a place here. Always. But, for right now, I’m asking you to do the smart thing for you and choose to leave.” He pulled lightly on her arm. “Sit, sweetheart. Let’s talk it out.”
She sat.
“Let’s put Badger aside for a minute. You’ve been here more than a week. That’s the longest you’ve ever stayed. Shannon’s talking like you’re staying awhile. I’m not throwing you out. I like having you here. But is something else goin’ on?”
She didn’t know how to answer that question. Spending the week worrying about Badger and wondering what was going on there, and helping Shannon at the B&B, and spending time with Lilli and Cory and their kids, she hadn’t had to think much about what she’d left in New York. She was glad to be able to forget that for a while.
“I don’t know.”
“Let me ask you something easier, then. When did you intend to go home?”
That wasn’t an easier question. “I don’t know.”
He laughed. It was a very fatherly laugh, full of tender care. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know.” He laughed again, and this time she joined him. “I keep saying that, but it’s true. It’s like…it’s like I want more than what’s at home. But I don’t know what.”
“Adrienne, you live in New York. You went to college—and you did it in New York City. You’ve been all over the world. Fuck, sweetheart, you went to Asia all by yourself. I see you want a big life. It makes me proud to see it in a way I don’t think I could make you understand. A way that makes my heart hurt a little. You should go and find the biggest life you can. But it’s not here. If you want more, you won’t find it here. Here, you’ll only find less. A small life. Small people.”
“I know it looks big. But Show, I was lonely in the city. I was so lonely at Columbia I made myself sick. New York made me feel claustrophobic. Being on my own in Asia was okay, but I’ve done that. I don’t want that again. And at home, I’m just regressing to the little girl who sleeps in the same bed she’s had since she was six. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I love my father and my brothers so much. I have a great family, and I will never take that for granted. Now I have another great family. I know I’m lucky. But I can’t find a way to feel right at home. It’s like I’m changing somehow, but my life isn’t. It’s like…”
She stopped and searched for a way to describe how she’d been feeling since before she’d graduated Columbia, a feeling she’d been oppressed by since she’d come back from Asia. “It’s like my old life is wearing a blister on my mind. Or on my soul.” She laughed sheepishly. “That sounds really lame, I know.”
“No, little one. It’s not lame at all. I know that feeling. What doesn’t fit?”
With a shrug, she turned and looked out the window next to the bed. It was dark. Shannon would be home soon. “Me. I don’t fit.” She paused again and tried to think how to explain. “From the time I was little, I wanted to be an artist. When I was in high school, I landed on photography, and I told everybody that I wanted to be like Alfred Stieglitz. You know him?”
Show shook his head.
“I’ll show you his work sometime. He did these amazing images. They’re all mood and rebellion, and they’re just breathtaking. He was married to Georgia O’Keeffe—you have a print of hers in your bedroom.”
“That rainbow vagina thing Shannon likes so much?”
Adrienne laughed. “Well, it’s called ‘Grey Line with Black, Blue, and Yellow,’ but yes. Lots of people see sexual imagery in her work.”
“Yeah, that’s a multicolored pussy. No question.” He grinned. “’Scuse my language.”
With a wry nod, she went on. It felt good to try to tell Show what was going on. She was putting into words things she hadn’t been able to sort out well enough to think through. “Anyway, I had a plan. I was going to Columbia, I was going to get a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree, I was going to get my foot in at a gallery or museum in the city, and I was going to live in a crappy walk-up studio garret, where all my neighbors would be starving artists like me, and then one day I’d get discovered and get my own gallery show, and be famous. Basically, I’d need a time machine to back to the Sixties and hang out with Patti Smith and Robert Mapplethorpe.”
Show didn’t register any recognition of those names, either. So she went on. “My mom and dad were totally supportive of my grand plan. Totally. And then my mom died, and my dad sort of fixed on it. On making sure I had the life my mom wanted for me.”
“But you don’t want that life anymore.”
Relief made her sigh. He got it. “No, I don’t. I have the degree, but it’s not what I want. I don’t know what I want. But how do I tell my father, who’s trying to fulfill his wife’s dying wish for me, that I don’t want that wish? And that I have no idea what I want more?”
“You tell him, little one. Simple as that. Like you’re telling me.”
“No. I tried that. He can’t hear me. I get why. He can only hear my mother. But I can’t be there and figure myself out at the same time. I can see him being disappointed—not in me, exactly, but for me. Does that make sense?”
Show nodded. “It does.”
“And it makes me hurt. I don’t want to make him even a little sad. He’s had enough of that.”
“He can’t be happy you’re here. I know he doesn’t like it much when you come.”
“No. He worries.”
“He’s right to, Adrienne. He’s right to worry. It’s why I want you to go.”
And they’d come full circle. Even though she could tell Show understood, he still wanted her to go. She could feel the love and concern in his stubbornness. But she couldn’t go. She wouldn’t. “I’m not ready to go. If you throw me out, I’ll just move into the B&B or something. I have money.” Her money from her mom, but she’d use it if she had to. And she could get a job, maybe.
“I’m not throwing you out, Adrienne. You have a place with us as long as you want it.” He huffed heavily and shook his head. “But no Badger.”
“It’s not your call.”
“That one is. You’re not safe around him. You know it’s true. Who knows what he would have done to you if I hadn’t been there.”
“But he was strung out or whatever, right? It wasn’t him. And you guys got him detoxed or whatever, right? So he’s him again?”
“Today. Just today he’s out. He is still fucked up. I’m telling you, Adrienne. He’s not good for you.”
“And my dad says you’re not good for me.”
“He’s right!”
“No, he’s not! You are good and kind, and I always feel calm to be here, with you and Shannon. You are good for me. I love you.”
Something changed in Show’s blue eyes. It wasn’t that impression of shuttering that he got when she came too close to something he didn’t want to think or talk about. It was more like he was searching for something. “You love him?”
“I think so. Yes.” First time she’d said that out loud.
He was shaking his head before she’d finished speaking. “No. I will not get out of the way of that. No. He doesn’t get another chance to hurt you. No, Adrienne. No.”
“It’s not for you to decide, Show.”
“Watch me.”
With that, and without another word, he stood, kissed the top of her head, and left the room.
~oOo~
A few days later, Adrienne was at the B&B with Shannon. They only had four guests, two occupied rooms, so there wasn’t a lot of work to do, but they were sitting in her office, going through sample books for an upcoming wedding. Adrienne loved to help Shannon with this kind of stuff. Making a beautiful wedding was a little like making beautiful art—especially, as in this case, when the bride gave the planners nearly free rein to create the event, without a long list of must-haves and never-evers. For this event, scheduled for early June, with sixty guests, the bride had said only that her favorite color was yellow, and that she was allowing the bridesmaids to choose their own dresses with that in mind.
While that last was a nice gesture that suggested a general lack of control-freakiness in the bride, it could be a visual disaster, really. There were a lot of different kinds of yellow, and they didn’t all look great with each other. But Shannon had pinned Allie, the bride, down to a particular yellow (Pantone Lemon Zest) and had then asked her to send a swatch to her three bridesmaids.
Now, they were considering a complementing color for floral arrangements and decorations.
“What about lilac? Purple and yellow is a nice summer combination, maybe with a thread of grass green? Or even an orange with enough red in it.” Adrienne tipped the color book Shannon’s way.
“Not the orange—too close, with the red and yellow tones both. I want something cooler. The green could work. Yeah. I like that. A more vivid green to brighten the soft tones of the lilac and yellow. Good eye. Nice to work with an artist.” She winked. The past couple of days, Shannon seemed to be feeling better than she had been. She looked more rested and healthier, and she was definitely more centered emotionally.
Adrienne had spent the couple of days right after their big talk avoiding Show. She didn’t want Shannon to see any tension between them, and she was really angry. Hurt, too, even though she knew that his problem with Badger was coming from a place of love. It still really hurt to have him disregard her like he was, and lay down the law or something, as if he had a right.
But he did, sort of, because she was living under his roof. That had to change, she thought. Not ready to go back to New York, not sure when or even if she’d be ready to go back to New York, she had to come up with another option. The B&B could only be a short-term solution. If she wanted to stay for any real length of time (Was she thinking about living here? She didn’t know.), she would need to find a place and a job. The place probably wouldn’t be that hard. There were still empty houses around outside of town. But she’d need to afford it, and the job was another story.
For now, though, she was ready to dip into her inheritance a little. Her father would be furious, but she’d gotten full control of it on her birthday in January, so he didn’t have a say.
None of the men in her life had a say over her life anymore.
“Hey, Shannon? What would you think about me taking a room here for a while? I mean, I’d pay—I just wonder if you’d mind if I did.”
She dropped the cake brochure she’d been leafing through and stared across her desk at Adrienne, clearly shocked. “What? Ade! Why?”
Not about to tell Shannon anything that had happened, Adrienne smiled. “Nothing bad. It’s just—you have the baby coming, and I know the room I’m in will be for her—or him—and you bought that stuff over the weekend, and it’s piled in the dining room because you have no place to put it.”
“Oh, honey. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel crowded out. That room is yours as long as you want to be with us. If you’re thinking you want to be here long term, that’s great! So great! I’ll…” She stopped and looked down at the booklets and brochures scattered over her desk. “I’ll have Show close up the dining room. We can convert it into a bedroom for you.”
Now Adrienne felt guilty about making Shannon feel guilty. This was getting to be an even thornier conversation than she’d expected. “It’s okay, Shannon. I don’t feel unwelcome or crowded out. But I am thinking of maybe staying a while. Long enough to maybe start looking for work.”
“I’ll talk to Lilli. What you’re doing with us freelance while you’re in town—we can make that something official.”
No. She loved it here, but she was feeling a need to break out of the things she’d been doing. Too many expectations, too much help from other people.
When she didn’t answer right away, Shannon smiled; it had a rueful little twist to it. “Oh, God. I’m managing. And hovering. And crowding. Being pregnant is making me weird. I’m sorry. You find the job you want. There’s one here if you want it, but I won’t push. If you want to stay in the B&B, then of course you can. And as long as we don’t need the room and you make it up yourself, then you stay for free. I’ll talk to Lilli about what to do if we need to book full—but we’ll work it out. I love having you at the house, but I know you’re a grownup and need some privacy. I’m just thrilled that it means you’ll be around awhile. That makes me really happy.”
Adrienne went over to Shannon and hugged her. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“Could I—could I move over here today?” Show was on a run and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow.
“Um…sure. We’re pretty empty, but we are booked full on the weekend.” She slapped her forehead. “God, I’m an idiot. Take the manager’s suite! Right there!” She pointed to the door in the corner of her office. “No one uses it, because we all have homes elsewhere. It’s been empty for more than a year.”
Wow. Adrienne thought that could be amazing. At least short-term. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. There’s no furniture in it, but we can work that out. You could take a room upstairs for now, until we get it furnished. Or you could stay at the house a little longer.”
“I think I’d like to take a room, if that’s still okay.”
At that, Shannon cocked her head, and her dark blue eyes narrowed a little. “It is. But why the rush, honey? Is something wrong?”
“No. Really. I just…I guess I feel a little restless. If that makes sense?”
“It does. Okay. Well, let’s get you a room, then!”
~oOo~
Once she had a room upstairs, Adrienne went out to her car, on a mission to collect her things from Show and Shannon’s house and come back. It wasn’t a perfect plan, and it didn’t keep her from being dependent on Shannon, and therefore Show, too, sort of. But it was a forward step, and it gave her time to think things through.
Walking to her car, though, she saw Badger’s bike. She hadn’t seen him since the day they’d taken him, bound and unconscious, to the clubhouse. Was he okay? And were they? Were they even friends anymore?
She’d gotten within six feet of the barn door, which was mostly closed, before she realized that she couldn’t. She couldn’t go in there. Memories of her last encounters with Badger filled her head. There wasn’t room for another memory like them. If she saw him, it would have to be some other way. She turned around, headed back to her car.
“Adrienne?”
The voice sounded like it was coming from underwater or something, but it was Badger’s. She turned toward it. He was coming around the back corner of the barn, Weasel at his heel. He looked awful—the terrible bruising he’d had that other day was mottled grey and green, but over it was fresh, vivid bruising on the side of his head, and across his face like a mask. Both eyes were black, and his nose was covered with a white bandage. Adrienne thought of Show’s hurt knuckles and did some deducing. God. Show was so much bigger than Badger. God.
“Badge—are you okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah. I’m better.” He took a step toward her, and she’d stepped back before she realized she was doing it. He stopped, and her chest hurt at the look of pain she could see even in that mangled face.
“Adrienne. I’m so sorry. I won’t…bother you. I just want to say that. That I’m so, so sorry. What I did to you is the worst thing I ever did.”
“Badge, I’m not mad.” She recovered the step she’d taken away from him, and added two more. If they both reached out, they could hold hands.
“You should be mad. I was a dick to you. Worse than that.”
She shook her head. Old news. “How are you doing? You’re wearing your kutte.”
He looked down at the leather. “Yeah. They let me stay. I’m okay. It’s hard to be here. But I’m clean.”
“That’s good. I’m glad. I was worried.”
He looked down at Weasel and then out, past her, at or beyond the grounds. “Well, anyway. I’ll see you, I guess.” He turned back the way he’d come.
“Badge, wait.” He stopped at her call, just at the corner, but he didn’t turn around.
So she went to him, walking around to face him. “I’m so glad you’re better. I missed you.”
He lifted his hand and brushed his fingers over her bottom lip. Just a trace of the split was left. “I can’t believe I hurt you.”
The feel of his hand on her face, his fingers on her mouth, made her body tense and shiver. The pads of his fingers were rough and hard, but his touch was gentle. She pursed her lips and kissed them.
His eyes, even more luminous surrounded by the dark skin of his bruises, seemed to spark when she kissed his fingertips. He took another step, and his hand slid from her mouth around to grip her neck—but gently, without any intent to hurt or force her. She felt his fingers threading into her hair.
“Adrienne.”
Not knowing what to say, she nodded. And he bent down and kissed her.
She loved the feeling of his beard on her face. Since she’d known Badger, she’d dated another guy with a beard—they’d dated for a while, in fact—but Patrick’s was coarse and sparse, with not much hair under his bottom lip. Nothing like Badger’s, which was full and surprisingly soft.
At first, he just moved his lips lightly over hers, but she wanted more than that. She wanted something to happen between them; she’d wanted that for years. She could feel him wanting her, even though he was barely touching her.
Deciding to rectify that situation, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist. Now they were touching at nearly all points, from their legs to their mouths, and she knew for an empirical fact that he wanted her. He grunted at the contact and opened his mouth. Adrienne opened hers, too, and when their tongues touched, she heard herself moan. She liked the sound, and she did it again—and felt him pressing even harder against her stomach.
He groaned into her mouth, and his other arm, the one not attached to the hand clutching her hair, went around her waist and held her tight.
And then he broke away from her, gasping heavily, letting her go as he stepped back.
She could have stomped her foot like a four-year-old. She was gasping, too, and she didn’t think she’d ever been as turned on as she was right then. But here he was, backing off. As usual. She thought about calling him on his crap, but she was too hurt and frustrated.
“Okay. Sorry. I’ll see you around.” She turned, but he grabbed her hand.
“No, wait…I don’t…want you to go.” He took a deep breath. “I didn’t want to stop. I just couldn’t breathe. My nose.” His hand came up and waved at his broken face.
“You didn’t want to stop?”
“No. I’m tired of stopping. If you don’t want to stop, I mean.”
Talking in circles was not what she wanted to be doing. “What are you saying, Badger?”
“I’m saying…I’m saying I don’t want to be friends. Just friends, I mean. I want more.”
That made her smile. But: “Show doesn’t want us even to be friends.”
“I know. But I didn’t promise him anything.”
“Neither did I. But he’ll be pissed. His pissed is scary.”
“Yeah. But it’s not his business. And it can be just between us, for now. If you want that.”
“Sneaking?”
“Private. But Adrienne—I’m… I’m just different from what I was. Not all of it was the Oxy. I’m not like I was before. I don’t think I can be.”
In his eyes, she saw the Badger she knew. They were different, she saw that, but they were also the same. And she didn’t care if he was different, as long as he wasn’t mean. She was different, too; she could almost feel herself becoming somebody else, like pieces shifting in her mind. Maybe they wouldn’t mesh, when all was said and done. But she’d wanted to ‘not stop’ with him for years. He was the only person she’d ever really wanted to ‘not stop’ with.
“You’re Badger. That’s enough for me.” One day, maybe he’d tell her what had happened that had hurt him so much.
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her again. This time, when he needed a breath, he didn’t let go—he just took it and came back in. But they couldn’t make out against the back of the barn forever, the goats milling about behind them and Weasel sitting at their feet. So, after several minutes, she pushed him back.
“Hey. I’m moving out of Show and Shannon’s house and taking a room here for a while.”
He grinned. “So you’re staying? How long?”
Right at this moment, she was thinking she might make a permanent move. But outwardly, she shrugged. “I’m not sure yet. I need to work some things out. But I need to get out of their house so they can start getting ready for the littlest Ryan. I’m gonna go get my stuff. Maybe you could come up tonight, and we could watch scary movies? I could get a pizza from Tuck’s.”
He pulled her close again. “That sounds like a pretty good date.”
“If that’s a date, then we’ve been dating for years.”
By way of response, he kissed her nose.