Page 60
Story: All I Have Left
“No, you’re not.” I run my hands over my face. “I look like hell though. Hardly cheerleader material, but I want to go. I don’t want to hide any longer.” I glance at myself in the mirror. “But we gotta cover this shit up somehow.”
She laughs and reaches for a bag. “Girl, that’s why they made trucker hats for girls.” Her eyes take in my face, dancing over every mark visible to the world.
“Okay, so say he shows up, what if Ethan or Grayson starts a fight with Shane?”
She laughs. “Let them. That asshole deserves to fucking die a slow painful tortured death.”
I agree, but I don’t want the drama of it all. Is that too much to ask for?
The day goes by impossibly slow and Grayson’s gone for most of it. Apparently he got the job and he’s in Dothan getting his license switched over from New Mexico to Alabama.
Around three, I shower and Frankie does my makeup. After putting on the bikini and shorts, I slip on one of Grayson’s old baseball sweatshirts that I stole in high school. Then I add a pair of dark sunglasses before leaving the room.
Frankie smiles when she notices the sweatshirt and pulls playfully on the hood. “You do realize it’s ninety-six degrees outside and like 80 percent humidity?”
I sigh and keep walking. If I’m going out in public with this damn bikini on, I’m wearing a sweatshirt, regardless of this Alabama heat.
“Hey,” she says as we walk through the kitchen toward the back door. “I don’t want to hash out the other night or make you all weepy, but holy shit, was that Jameson Riley who saved you from Shane?”
“Yeah.” I nod, thinking of the other night and the way Jameson stood up for me when he didn’t even know me. I’ll forever be a fan of his. “He walked by.”
“Wow.” She smiles, impressed. “He doesn’t seem like the dick they make him out to be.”
As far as I’m concerned, Jameson Riley is a hero. A good part of me knew if I’d gone home with Shane the other night, I might not have ever come back.
Grayson told me Aiden called him on Monday morning—at Jameson’s request—to make sure I was okay. I’ll never forget what he did for me.
Frankie and I load up her car with the cooler for the game and the T-shirts she had made for the team. As soon as we step outside, I regret the sweatshirt. Stupid humid state we live in.
Damn you, Alabama. Damn you.
When Frankie pops her trunk to put the cooler in the back, I notice something rather disturbing in there.
“Um, Frankie.” I look up her. “Do I dare ask why you have these in your car?” I hold up ropes, duct tape, and a shovel.
She laughs it off. “No, probably not.” She glances over hershoulder and closes the trunk. “How much detail do you want to know about my sex life with your brother?”
“Uh, nothing. That’s… disturbing.”
“I’m kidding. It’s for safety. Besides, you never know when you might need to bury a body or tie someone up.”
I’m not sure what to make of that so I ignore it. We stop by the sheriff station and I attempt to file the restraining order. I have to get an attorney to file it though and I’m given the names and phone numbers of a couple of local ones. I know both of them. One is Shane’s cousin, the other, my high school welding teacher’s wife.
I’m told I can file a petition for protection and have the courts expedite the process by going before a judge Friday morning. If the judge grants the order, it will act as a temporary restraining order until the petition for protection hearing.
We leave with nothing accomplished and Frankie watches me carefully, staring at the business card in my hand. “Babe, what’s wrong?”
I twist the card around in my hand, tears burning. “Hearing. Notices. Attorneys. None of this I want to deal with because I know it’s going to piss him off even more. If he’s served a restraining order, I know what will happen. He’ll come after me.”
Frankie places her hand over mine. “I can’t imagine how hard this is for you, but we’re going to get through it together.”
“Thank you for being a friend.”
“You’ve got me for life, darlin’.”
Sniffing, I reach over and hug her, the tiniest bit of relief I’d had coming here fading. “We sound like theGolden Girls.”
Frankie grins. “I’m totally Blanche.”
She laughs and reaches for a bag. “Girl, that’s why they made trucker hats for girls.” Her eyes take in my face, dancing over every mark visible to the world.
“Okay, so say he shows up, what if Ethan or Grayson starts a fight with Shane?”
She laughs. “Let them. That asshole deserves to fucking die a slow painful tortured death.”
I agree, but I don’t want the drama of it all. Is that too much to ask for?
The day goes by impossibly slow and Grayson’s gone for most of it. Apparently he got the job and he’s in Dothan getting his license switched over from New Mexico to Alabama.
Around three, I shower and Frankie does my makeup. After putting on the bikini and shorts, I slip on one of Grayson’s old baseball sweatshirts that I stole in high school. Then I add a pair of dark sunglasses before leaving the room.
Frankie smiles when she notices the sweatshirt and pulls playfully on the hood. “You do realize it’s ninety-six degrees outside and like 80 percent humidity?”
I sigh and keep walking. If I’m going out in public with this damn bikini on, I’m wearing a sweatshirt, regardless of this Alabama heat.
“Hey,” she says as we walk through the kitchen toward the back door. “I don’t want to hash out the other night or make you all weepy, but holy shit, was that Jameson Riley who saved you from Shane?”
“Yeah.” I nod, thinking of the other night and the way Jameson stood up for me when he didn’t even know me. I’ll forever be a fan of his. “He walked by.”
“Wow.” She smiles, impressed. “He doesn’t seem like the dick they make him out to be.”
As far as I’m concerned, Jameson Riley is a hero. A good part of me knew if I’d gone home with Shane the other night, I might not have ever come back.
Grayson told me Aiden called him on Monday morning—at Jameson’s request—to make sure I was okay. I’ll never forget what he did for me.
Frankie and I load up her car with the cooler for the game and the T-shirts she had made for the team. As soon as we step outside, I regret the sweatshirt. Stupid humid state we live in.
Damn you, Alabama. Damn you.
When Frankie pops her trunk to put the cooler in the back, I notice something rather disturbing in there.
“Um, Frankie.” I look up her. “Do I dare ask why you have these in your car?” I hold up ropes, duct tape, and a shovel.
She laughs it off. “No, probably not.” She glances over hershoulder and closes the trunk. “How much detail do you want to know about my sex life with your brother?”
“Uh, nothing. That’s… disturbing.”
“I’m kidding. It’s for safety. Besides, you never know when you might need to bury a body or tie someone up.”
I’m not sure what to make of that so I ignore it. We stop by the sheriff station and I attempt to file the restraining order. I have to get an attorney to file it though and I’m given the names and phone numbers of a couple of local ones. I know both of them. One is Shane’s cousin, the other, my high school welding teacher’s wife.
I’m told I can file a petition for protection and have the courts expedite the process by going before a judge Friday morning. If the judge grants the order, it will act as a temporary restraining order until the petition for protection hearing.
We leave with nothing accomplished and Frankie watches me carefully, staring at the business card in my hand. “Babe, what’s wrong?”
I twist the card around in my hand, tears burning. “Hearing. Notices. Attorneys. None of this I want to deal with because I know it’s going to piss him off even more. If he’s served a restraining order, I know what will happen. He’ll come after me.”
Frankie places her hand over mine. “I can’t imagine how hard this is for you, but we’re going to get through it together.”
“Thank you for being a friend.”
“You’ve got me for life, darlin’.”
Sniffing, I reach over and hug her, the tiniest bit of relief I’d had coming here fading. “We sound like theGolden Girls.”
Frankie grins. “I’m totally Blanche.”
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