Chapter 2
Elle
As Elle got out of her beat up old Jetta, her face was still bright red. Yeah, that embarrassment was gonna stay with her for a good long time. She rubbed her hand on the old silver car, a habit she picked up since the last time it was threatening to break down for good.
Okay, Elle, you've got an hour and a half before classes. I can take a nap before driving to the community college. Or maybe shower and then a nap. Let's see, I only need like fifteen minutes to drive there…
She stopped dead in her tracks when she opened the front door to her mom's house. Her parents had saved up enough to buy the house outright, so it was passed to her when they died. It was hard to keep it up, since it was so big, but if she stayed in only a few of the rooms and didn't go in any of the others, all she had to do was dust from time to time.
She had unexpected guests.
“Grandma?” She said, stepping into the living room. Her grandmother was sitting on her old couch, smiling up at Elle. A woman she didn't recognize was sitting next to her, and standing next to the window was a man that Elle recognized as her grandma's lawyer.
“Hello, dear! Sorry for popping by unannounced, but I know how you get with plans. Always avoiding!” She chirped, raising her eyebrows. Her hair was dyed black and curled immaculately, and her eyes were done perfectly thanks to the tattooed eye makeup she paid for last year. Every time she called, she chattered on about how that was one of the best purchases she ever made.
Elle laughed with growing unease. Okay, so a lawyer. Another old lady. Is she about to come out as a late-stage lesbian? Maybe it's a friend and she thinks she's dying soon. That would be bad, don't think that.
“Is everything okay, Grandma? Why are you here?” She hoped, to herself, that there wasn't going to be any bad news. She could take a lesbian grandmother much better than a dying one. Grandma Rosa was all she had left in the world. Elle wasn't exactly ready to give her up.
“Oh! By the way, this is an old friend of mine, Ina. We actually went to high school together!”
“That was ages ago,” chuckled Ina, her long silver hair done up in a bun. Her smile was friendly and her blue eyes were kind. She sat straight up as if she were royalty.
“True!” Cackled Elle's grandmother. “You should sit before we talk, Elle. This is going to be a bit of a surprise for you. Don't want you to faint like when we told you about your trust fund!”
Elle did as she was told. Yeah, she didn't want to crack her head open against the coffee table again, either. Sitting diagonally from them in the old chair her dad used to spend his nights in, she crossed her legs under her and steadied her shaking hands against the cool leather arms.
“Okay. I'm sitting,” she said, taking deep breaths. She hated change. She hated surprises. She hated, especially, surprises from her grandmother, who was quite a prankster and never quite knew how to deal with Elle's timid nature.
“So, this is actually about that trust fund. You only turned twenty a few weeks ago, so you've only got a year to go! Unfortunately, since you haven't yet married, there is one little hoop you have to jump through first.”
Her heart sank right into her stomach. “A hoop?”
“Yes, dear. You see, when you were quite young –”
“Barely even out of your momma's tummy,” Ina cut in.
“The two of us met and decided that we would love our families to join. And so, we put it in the paperwork for your trust fund that you will marry Ina's grandson.”
Ina nodded, her smile growing. “He's quite handsome! He was born a year before you. I bet you'll like him.”
Elle's mouth fell open. “This has to be a joke, right?” She waited. “Right, Grandma?”
“I want it to be clear that I advised both of them against this, and they didn't listen,” the lawyer cut in with a cough.
“No, it isn't a joke. I have to remind you, if you refuse to do this, you lose access to your trust fund, as well as this house.”
“You can't do that! Mom and Dad paid for this!”
“I'm afraid they didn't. I did.”
Elle felt as if she might throw up. Or cry. Probably both, now that she thought about it.
“You can refuse, of course. We're not savages, forcing you to marry.”
“Goodness, no!” Ina said, touching her hand to the pearls around her neck.
“And you only need to stay married for a year. If it doesn't work out after that, then I suppose you can divorce and keep your trust.”
Ina shook her head sadly. “What a shame that would be, though. My grandson truly is quite a catch.”
I can barely pay for food, and my loans are going to eat me alive. I need that money. Oh, God, I don't have a choice! I don't have a choice here at all!
Elle's bottom lip quivered, but she forbade herself from crying. “Do I at least get to meet him first?”
“Of course!” Ina smiled, the wrinkles around her eyes crinkling. “He should be here any minute, in fact.”
Elle's grandma nodded. “Right. Why don't you head upstairs and shower, make yourself presentable. Do you still have that blue sundress I bought you last year? You should wear that when you come down.”
Climbing up the stairs to her room, Elle could no longer hold back the tears and panic. She sobbed and heaved herself onto her bed, crying ugly tears into her pillow. She kicked and screamed, allowing herself to be childish. If ever there was a time that she could be childish without remorse, this was it.
How could Grandma do this to me? This is barbaric! No one arranges marriages anymore! She wanted to go downstairs and tell her grandma how awful this idea was, to throw her out of the house. The house that wasn't even actually hers for another year.
The one thing she could count on, the one anchor in her life, had just fallen through her fingers like grains of sand.
It was becoming hard to breathe. Standing, she went to her window and opened it wide, looking out over the city. I need to get some fresh air. Just for a few minutes. I'll go for a walk.
Climbing out of the window, she stepped onto the roof below it and skidded on her butt towards the edge.
Troy
One of the first things Troy taught Roman as a puppy was how to ride a motorcycle. It started with the pup strapped to his back, and as he grew Roman learned how to move with the bike, leaning against Troy and even holding onto his shoulders to keep from falling during hard stops.
Even Troy would openly admit that the dog looked adorable with his red goggles on his face. He acts like he was born to ride a motorcycle. The longer ride from Michigan to Arizona was rough on him, but with regular stops he managed.
Grandma doesn't really like Roman, but she knows I need him with me, Troy thought as he passed by a car. She doesn't know why, but she knows I need him. Troy was not exactly forthcoming with information about his problems. His flashbacks. They felt a lot like a weakness that he didn't want to admit to having. If other people knew, they could use it against him.
The roads in Arizona were so different from Michigan. For instance, there were basically no potholes. Not anywhere near the extent of Michigan potholes, which could take up a hole lane during winter. Potholes like what they got during the Michigan winters were enough to wreck a car and send a motorcycle like his flying. Potholes like that killed motorcyclists.
It occurred to him that Arizona would be a much safer place for Troy. He didn't have much back in Michigan that tied him there, but moving someplace new didn't thrill him. Especially if it meant always being near his grandmother, who had a habit of being a nag with just plain too much energy.
He was also constantly impressed by how clean and shiny all of the cars were. That was definitely not something you would see often in Michigan, with the salt and crappy roads kicking up all kinds of car-destroying crap. Troy took good care of his motorcycle, a Harley Iron 883, but it was starting to get some salt-related problems.
I should just move down here. Be closer to Grandma, be able to walk Roman during winter without putting boots on him to protect his feet. Dog boots are so not manly. I hate ruining his alpha male image for the bitches.
He chuckled to himself, watching as a car swerved from one side of their lane to the other. Fucking nutjob, he thought, making sure to stay well away from the guy. That's the kind of driver that kills motorcyclists.
Ina had a bad habit of making Troy jump through hoops to get the money that was technically his. Or, it will be when he turned 30 or got married. Riding across the country was just a minor hoop compared to some of the others.
Getting married was a laughable thought. Troy couldn't be around most women without getting horrible flashbacks. No sex since before he left for Iraq. It was safe to say he had a lot of pent up sexual energy with few outlets.
He wouldn't allow himself to hire a hooker, though. One, because there was no guarantee they were clean. Two, because women he didn't know obviously freaked him out. Three, because a gentleman doesn't hire hookers.
Though he wasn't much of a gentleman at that point, he would like to one day be one. Getting married would be nice, too, but he would have to find a woman that wouldn't make his hands shake. Maybe he just needed to give the right woman some time.
Pulling off of the main road, glad to be away from the insane driver, Troy pulled onto a quiet and beautiful side street. Almost every house had a huge cactus in front of it, which struck Troy as kind of hilarious.
He looked for the house with a gate in front of the door and a blue star hanging over a window. When he found it, he pulled into the driveway just in time for a woman to fall from the roof and right in front of him.
She totally ate it, probably scraping her knee and palms as she fell harder than she expected with a great, “Oof.” The woman stayed like that for a while, just breathing through what must have been quite a bit of pain.
“Hey, you alright?” He called as he undid his helmet, but stayed on his idling bike.
The woman stood, her blonde hair shining in the sun, and her body started to shake. At first he worried that she was crying, but then she threw back her head and laughed out loud, wiping away a tear and brushing dirt off of her knees.
“Yeah, I'm fine!” She turned to Troy and her face fell.
Oh, boy. Elle. Her eyes narrowed with a furious glare. “Why are you here?”
“My grandma? She said she's here with a friend.”
Elle groaned and leaned against the house, covering her face with her hands and taking deep breaths. “Keep calm, Elle, maybe he's at the wrong house,” she muttered quietly.
“What's wrong?” Troy asked, but she just shook her head. Kicking his bike into place, he helped Roman down and took the dog's leash. “Seriously. Is Grandma okay?”
Roman sniffed Elle's hand, giving it a tentative lick.
“Well, I guess this is all perfectly fitting.” She gave Roman a gentle pat on the head, then motioned for Troy to follow her. “Come on, let me welcome you to my own, personal living hell. It's about to collide with yours.”
He cocked his head to the side, terribly confused, then followed her. He watched her heart shaped ass as it swayed up the steps to the gate that barred her front door. She unlocked the gate and held it open for Troy as she went on ahead.
The way her ass moved just begged for a squeeze, but she seemed irritated enough already. He didn't need to make things worse with a sexual harassment charge.
Why was he even being so awful about Elle? He didn't know her, and he was still uneasy around her. He had to stop being such a pervert.
It is fun though, he admitted to himself with a smirk.