Lala
He has got to be shitting me. He’s giving me a car? Just offering me, practically a stranger, a car. I know he’s not taking my no for an answer, so I don’t know what to do, let alone what to say. He’s standing here waiting with his arms crossed, looking annoyed and a little bored. I’m sure my mouth is hanging open at this point.
I look over at Lil and she looks just as shocked as I do.
“Are you fucking with me? Are you serious right now?” I ask him. I’m really trying to process this offer. This can’t be real. Shit like this never happens to me and I don’t know how the hell to act. He’s either the nicest man on the face of this earth, or he’s the craziest.
“It’s a yes or no, Lala. Not gonna stand here all day while you think about it. Got other shit to do today.”
“Anything you want me to do for it?” My question makes him smile ever so slightly, regretting my question from the look he’s giving me.
Chuckling, he says, “Can’t offer a man shit like that darlin’. A man gets an offer like that ‘n he’ll just run with it, ‘n God only knows what he’ll do with it.” My heart hits my stomach. What the hell is he going to want from me?
“Listen. I’m just tryin’ to do somethin’ nice. No strings. I scrapped your piece of shit, might as well replace it.”
I feel like crying. No one has ever offered me anything, and now someone is offering to give me a car with no strings attached. This is nuts. I want to hug him, but he doesn’t look like the hugging type.
“Okay,” I whisper. If I talk any louder, it might turn into a sob. “Thank you, Rampage. Like, really, thank you! I will work out some type of payment plan with you. I swear to you that I will pay you back for it.”
He gives me a gruff nod. “Yeah, whatever.” With that he turns and stomps out of the kitchen, hollering in his deep gruff voice, “Prospect! Get the black Chevy at my place. Clean it ‘n bring it here. Be fuckin’ quick about it, too.”
Turning to Lil, she grins at me like a nut. “As long as I’ve known him, I have never seen him do any type of shit like this,” she tells me.
“Well come on. Let’s make him some lunch.”
****
“Here Lala,” Rampage tosses a set of keys to me an hour later. It’s two keys and a keyless remote, attached to a keychain shaped as a motorcycle. How fitting. “It’s out front for ya.”
All of a sudden I’m nervous. I don’t give a shit if it’s multi-colored and rusty, I’m just happy as fuck to have a running car so I can get to school and work. Lil grabs my hand up in hers and starts tugging me to the door before I can think about it too much.
“Come on.”
Once we are outside, I’m a little lost. He said a black SUV, but this sure as hell can’t be it, but it’s the only vehicle sitting at the door. The car I’m looking at has to be new, or at least new-ish. It’s beautiful.
“This can’t be the car,” I mutter completely stunned. My mind spins.
Lil busts out laughing, “Girl, I saw him drive it before. This is it.”
No way. I can’t accept this. I was expecting something old and rusty. Something barely hanging on, paint peeling, mismatched rims, not something shiny, beautiful, and fully functional.
“It gonna work for ya?” Rampage’s deep, gruff voice sounds from behind me.
Spinning around, I just stare at him in complete disbelief. “That,” I say pointing to the car, “can’t be the car you were talking about.”
Grabbing the keys from me he frowns, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion, “Babe, not a car. Truck? Maybe. SUV? Yes.”
I watch him walk around to the driver’s side door. Throwing it open, he waves me over. In a daze I walk over to him, trying to wrap my mind around what this man is doing for me.
“Up.”
His rough hands haul me up by my waist as he lifts me up and places me in the driver’s seat carefully. Handing me the keys he orders, “Fire ‘er up.”
I can’t believe this. This is insanity at its finest. “You’re really giving me this car?”
“Not a car, Lala. Ask me again, imma change my mind,” he says with a smile tugging at his lips.
“I’ll pay you every week until it’s paid for.”
“The fuck you will,” he grumbles.
“I can’t just accept a car from you, Rampage. I have to pay for it.” Shaking his head he looks a little annoyed.
“Let’s just call it an early or late birthday present.”
“I’m payin’ you.” I state firmly.
“Sure. Whatever ya want, as long as you’ll shut the fuck up about it,” With that I can only grin ear to ear.
Lil runs around to the passenger door and hops in. Looking over at her she squeals, “She’s a beauty!”
Her excitement prompts my own. Giving my own squeal of pure female happiness, I lose it. I throw my head back and giggle like a complete idiot, but also have tears running down my cheeks from such happiness. Rampage is leaning into the open door, his elbow resting on the open window with a smile in his eyes as he watches me lose my shit.
“Holy fuckin’ shit!” I can’t stop myself. “This is so fucking crazy!” Throwing my arms around Rampage I pull him into me and I slap a big, hard kiss on those mean, manly lips. I can’t help it. He may not be the hugging type, but he’s getting one anyway. “Thank you so fucking much! You’ve no idea what you’ve done for me today.”
He pulls away and looks surprised as hell and a little fucking confused. “Uh-Yeah. Whatever.”
Coming to the club a few weeks ago wasn’t such a bad idea.
****
Sitting in my driveway in my new car, I feel like I’m on cloud nine. I am so damn happy I could do a little twirl, like an honest to God girly twirl. No one has ever done something like this for me without asking or expecting something in return, yet no one has ever given me anything even close to this. Rampage gave me a shiny black, 2010 Chevy Tahoe. I could kiss him again for it. I’m not at all comfortable with just accepting the car, and I will figure out a way to pay him back for it.
I start to play around with everything, giving the car a good once over. It’s beautiful. It’s all black, all leather, and everything works. It amazes me how someone who can look so damn mean, be so damn sweet.
My life hasn’t been easy. It hasn’t been horrible, but it sure as shit could have been better. My mother raised me. She was a stripper who partied for a living, not able to do one without the other. Mom could never sit still, so we were always moving around whenever she got a wild hair up her ass, but it was usually due to some shit she may have caused. She would latch on to a guy, usually married with kids, rip their world apart and move on to the next sucker. She always made sure to put lots of distance between each place, dragging me along on her wild journey of a fast life and fast men. I’ve never had roots, never settled anywhere. We were the only thing the other had.
Mom had told my dad she was pregnant when she was fifteen. He packed up his shit and he split. It’s really no bother to me. Mom said he was a loser, so he wouldn’t have contributed much anyway. Growing up, I didn’t get shit from my mom except heartache and hard lessons about life. Don’t get me wrong, she tried, but she was young and caught up in living her own life, staying fucked up and getting fucked. She lived hard and wild, not leaving much time to pay any attention to me.
I’ve learned to rely on myself and struggle all on my own. I don’t put my shit on anyone. My mess, my problem. I learned to be strong, independent, crafty, and smart – always taking care of myself. I always keep my head held high and push through the shit life throws my way. Sure, there are things out of my control, but I fight back. I’ve been knocked down – literally – but I always get back up and fight like hell. I’m not ashamed to admit it.
Rampage giving me this car just showed me that there are still decent people left in this world, and that good shit happens to good people. With school getting harder and more expensive, along with my degrading job, I really needed that reminder.
The one thing my mom taught me with no shame, was how to strip. Stripping is not my ideal career, but I’ve got the body and brains for it. It pays well and I get to pick my hours so it works… for now.
Bills were piling up and I didn’t have a whole lot to choose from. I needed hours that worked around my school schedule, and every job that I applied for ended up being a bust, so I did what I had to do. Right now shit isn’t great, but I do what needs to be done to get me where I want to be. I push through it day in and day out, knowing that things have to get better if I keep working hard for it. Come hell or high water, I will survive.
After sitting in my new car for what seems like hours, I get out, lock her up and head to my front door. Once I make my way inside, I find a very unwelcome guest on my couch. His dirty shoes are on my coffee table, an arm thrown over the back of my couch like he owns the place, and an opened case of beer is sitting on the floor by his feet. My stomach twists and I want to vomit as a chill settles through my bones. The intense need to flee runs through me, but he’ll chase me, and he will catch me. He always catches me.
“Where the fuck you been, bitch, and who the fucks car is that?”
A few years ago, I ended, or at least tried to end, a long, violent relationship. Ryan is the epitome of trash. He’s mean, cruel, self-centered and conceited. His most memorable trait is how he likes to beat the shit out of me.
Ryan has been in and out of my life for a long time now. He was the son of a man my mom used to date. Ryan came into my life when we were young, being a friend when I needed one the most. He was always polite, considerate, and funny, nothing like his father. Things happened that caused us to part ways for years, but he found me, wanting to continue with a relationship, but I didn’t want any relationship with him at the time. After a lot of attention from him, I finally gave in and we began dating, and I soon saw him for who he really was and what he knew about our sudden departure years before. He’s used that ever since, and things have just gotten worse. It’s been years, and I still can’t be rid of him.
I’ve tried. God, I’ve tried. I tried being nice, I’ve tried being forceful, demanding that he stay away. I moved numerous times. I’ve changed my number more times than I care to remember. Hell, I even tried the legal way. A restraining order only made him angrier. When he beat my ass because of it, the cops didn’t do a thing. Nada. The only option left to me now is to kill him, but I’d really hate to go to prison for the rest of my life, but it’s looking like my final option if I want to outlive him.
No matter where I go, he finds me. No matter how hard I fight, he fights even harder. I don’t have any options available to me, so I do what I know. I fight ‘til one of us are gone.
“Ryan, what are you doing here?”