Page 13

CHAPTER

TWELVE

Rayleigh

“Brew, thank you so much for getting this, it’s a lifesaver,” I say, looking at the floor machine he bought when the mop broke in half.

“Not a problem, Rayleigh. Seems to be working well,” he replies, looking at the bar floor. “Fucking thing is probably cleaner than it’s ever been.” He laughs at my expression, which is probably one of dismay.

“That’s kind of scary, Brew,” I halfheartedly scold.

“Think about it, the mop was going into a clean bucket but then picking up all the shit fuckers spill and drop. Even rinsing it out, it’s never really clean, is it? But that thing there, you can take the brush thingy off, pop it into some hot soapy water, and then put it on the charging unit and it cleans and disinfects it, so even if it gets stained, it’s still clean.”

“When you say it that way, it makes sense. Can I get you to order some white vinegar?” I ask. “Since it’s not taking as long to do the floor now, I want to start working on a deep clean of the tables and chairs, then the bar.”

“Fuck, Rayleigh, you’re gonna turn this biker dive bar into a place where the town hipsters are gonna wanna party,” he teases.

I shudder thinking of the overly made-up women I’ve seen in town with their men, all dressed in funky yet stylish clothes coming into the place I’ve grown comfortable being in. Despite all the men in leather, which should terrify me based on the horror stories my mother would tell me, I feel at ease in their presence. I’m typically not downstairs when the bar actually opens, but I’ve started helping restock the bar cooler and the men from the club tend to come and go as they please if they need to speak with Brew. “Yeah, no thanks, Brew. But honestly, with the way I grew up, I’m used to a clean environment since I was punished if the house wasn’t completely spotless, so I don’t mind making everything shine, I promise. Y’all are paying me to do it, so that’s what I’m going to do.” He has no idea I learned to clean at an early age to avoid my father’s belt across my back.

Internally, I shudder, and my heartbeat accelerates when I realize I stood up to the tall, broody biker. Instead of reacting like I’m used to, he throws his head back and laughs long and hard, until his face is red and he’s clutching his stomach.

“Oh, I think you and Pres are gonna do just fine.”

“Whatever,” I grumble, unsure exactly what he means. “Okay, I’m done here, going across the street to take care of the shop. Want me to grab lunch from the diner while I’m out?” That’s become our customary routine over the past several weeks, so I don’t know why I even ask at this point. Habit, I guess. It seems almost impossible to me that I’ve now been on my own for almost a month. The club won’t let me pay for rent or any of the utilities, including the internet or cable, stating they cover it with the bar’s expenses, so other than the food and stuff I’ve done for the kittens, I’ve amassed a nice nest egg of cash.

He hands me two twenties and replies, “Grab me the special then get what you want. Keep the change.”

“I’m not keeping the change, Brew, that’s not right!” I exclaim, finally deciding enough is enough. He does this every single day and it’s bothered me since the beginning which is why the so-called ‘change’ he and Phantom tell me to keep is in an envelope I keep separate from my pay in the lockbox I bought when Cassie took me shopping.

“If I stopped what I was doing and walked over there, I’d tip the waitress. What’s the difference? You’re ordering it then bringing it to me, which is the same thing she’d do. Keep the fucking change.”

“Fine, fine. I will,” I dryly retort, screwing my face up at him. He once again laughs instead of backhanding me, which is unusual compared to what I’m accustomed to.

That was then, this is now, I remind myself, this mantra seems to be on an endless loop in my mind these days, as I take the money then quickly put my cleaning supplies away. Once I’ve washed then disinfected my hands in the bathroom, I head over to the tattoo shop.

“You’ve never considered getting yourself tatted?” Phantom asks as I restock the inventory after cleaning the bathrooms. They tend to keep their stations clean themselves since they have a specific sanitizing routine, but I take care of wiping down the reception area, dusting shelves, organizing the portfolios on the tables, cleaning the bathrooms, taking out the trash, straightening up their breakroom, and restocking inventory when shipments arrive.

“Not really. I mean, I know I can handle pain.” I stop when I see his face darken at the mention of my abuse. Being able to freely talk about it has been a lifesaver in so many ways. I’ve also started journaling, which was Cassie’s suggestion after I gave her a brief overview of my life.

“Sorry, Phantom, I forget sometimes,” I admit , immediately going to a dark place in my head.

He gently lifts my chin with his fingers so I’m looking directly at him. “Don’t lower your head, sweetheart. My anger is at the circumstances behind the reasons why you can handle pain, not at you. None of us, no matter if we yell or throw things, will ever take it out on you or any woman, you understand me?”

His words resonant in my soul and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that every man in the club, even the ones I’ve not met yet, will keep me safe. “I understand. As far as getting a tattoo, I’m not sure what I’d get, to be honest.”

I watch as he grabs a sketchpad and pencil and quickly starts drawing. Before I know it, he’s turning the page toward me. “You’re finally free from the confinement of pain and abuse, Rayleigh. There are a lot of symbols which epitomize freedom, but this is what I see for you.”

With shaky hands, I take the pad and stare at what he’s drawn. It’s a cage surrounded by butterflies and bubbles flying out of the open door. “It’s beautiful,” I murmur, my fingers tracing the design. “I can’t afford a tattoo right now, Phantom,” I disclose, regretfully giving the sketchpad back. I know what he charges, having overheard him discussing prices on the phone one day when I was there cleaning. Despite my savings, I never want to put myself in the position where I can’t take care of myself and a tattoo by him would seriously deplete my funds. What I’d really like to do is tear that page out of his book, frame it, and hang it on my living room wall.

“It’s on the club, Rayleigh. Let me do this for you,” he pleads. “I want to do it in watercolors, on your shoulder, so everyone can see you’re free.”

“Are you sure?” I question. “I know y’all are always busy. The shop stays packed, when would you find the time to fit me in?”

“We can do it before the shop opens to the public if you’d like. The place is always clean and honestly, this will only take an hour or so.”

I think about all the stuff my parents said about people who had tattoos. They were losers, drains on society, thugs and scum. Getting one would be another way to flip off my past, that belief brings a blazing smile to my face. “Okay, let’s do it. Set it up.”

“How’s tomorrow work for you?” he asks, while looking at the scheduling log on the computer.

Shrugging my shoulder nonchalantly, I answer, “Sure, why not?”

“Then it’s a deal. Wear a sports bra or something that will expose your shoulders,” he requests in a pressing way.

I quickly scan through my wardrobe and realize Cassie and I will have to go shopping. “I will. I’ve got to grab Brew’s lunch. Would you like me to get something for you and drop it off?”

He grins, hands me a twenty before I can tell him it’s on Brew then imparts, “I’ll take a special. Keep the change.”

“Are all of y’all like this?” I huff in annoyance. When he raises his brows at me, I explain, “Brew said the same thing when he tossed cash at me. Y’all know the special isn’t pricey, but both of you gave me way too much money then told me to keep the change. Y’all do it every single day, even though I’ve got the change from the day before. What’s up with that?” My boldness and the fact that I’m crawling my way out of my shell shocks me. I never thought my life would be more than me being subservient to a pair of bullies.

“We know you’re just starting out and want to be independent. This is one way we can help you get what you need without buying it outright since you’ve been rather stubborn about taking any of our assistance.”

I can feel my face reddening at his words. The first week I was on my own, Brew and Phantom both attempted to give me money to get my house in order, which I adamantly refused. When stuff appeared on the landing outside of my door, I returned it and politely told them I needed to stand on my own two feet even though I appreciated the gesture. I would return the clothes Brick bought me but because it was him, it’s different for some inexplicable reason. One I refuse to acknowledge right now. Ignorance is bliss as the saying goes.

“I’m sorry about that. I know you guys just want to help me out, but I feel like I should be doing this on my own as much as possible. It’s honestly appreciated, Phantom, I hope you and Brew both realize that fact. I just… I can’t explain it exactly but it’s freeing for me to have to figure out how I’m going to do something without another person stepping in and fixing it for me, is all.”

“We understand, Rayleigh. Just know, if you do need help, we’re a simple phone call away.”

I nod, smiling. “I got it. Let me go get our lunches because I still need to go shopping.”

Laughing, he waves, gesturing me out of the shop. As I head down the sidewalk, my heart is light and airy. The old fears are still there, lurking in the background, but having Phantom make the statement that the club is only a phone call away eases things and lets me know I’m not alone in life anymore.

Never again do I need to worry about being locked inside a gloomy closet, or starved for days because my parents forgot to buy food. I can say whatever I want without fear of being backhanded or worse, punched and kicked until I’m bleeding, and writhing with pain. While my body bears the scars of my past, those marks show I’m resilient, a survivor.

My musings stay with me all the way to the diner, where I quickly order three specials, grinning when the total is less than one of the three twenties in my pocket. I hand over the money, then shake my head when the waitress tries to give me the change. “Keep it. We might not physically eat here, but you’re doing the work of ordering it for me, making sure we’ve got all the pertinent stuff we need, then bagging it up. It’s the least I can do.” Her smile is infectious and has my heart lightening further. I do this every day too, but this is the first time she’s waited on me, so she didn’t know.

All my life, I only ever wanted to love and be loved. The stories I was able to read told me it was possible, but honestly, I had zero expectations it would happen to me. Yet Brick has stated that he wants me to be his old lady, whatever that means, which signifies that eventually, maybe, he’ll fall in love with me. Guess I need to research the term ‘old lady’ and discover what it really means because I’m not that much younger than he is… no more than nine or ten years, at the very least.

With my parents’ constant physical, emotional, and verbal abuse, I know I’m a hot mess. Hearing a certain tone of voice still causes me to flinch or even fall to the ground. When I express what I’m thinking, I still expect to be struck, either with a hand or a closed fist. I probably need therapy, but not knowing if Brick has dealt with my parents yet makes me hesitant to search for someone to counsel me in case my parents find out I’m no longer with Enoch and try to kidnap me or something like that. I may be an adult, but the terror where they’re concerned makes me feel like a child again, which I absolutely loathe.

However, I know one thing beyond a shadow of a doubt, I’ll never allow myself to be treated like that again! Ever. I remember I put registering for a self-defense course on my list of things I want to do and decide once I’m back home, I’m going to research online to see where I can sign up to take the classes.

“Here you go. Thanks again for the big tip,” the waitress conveys, handing me the bag full of three specials. “I put packages of silverware in there, along with condiments. I made sure to place plenty of ketchup, mustard, and mayonnaise packets, since I told the cook not to dress the burgers. All of the toppings are on the side so you don’t have to pick things off, you can make it the way you prefer.”

“Thank you! Honestly, you didn’t have to go to that much trouble.”

“It’s not a problem whatsoever. The guys from the club are in here regularly and if I’m being truthful, they’re some of our best customers. They all compensate us well, don’t leave their table a complete disaster, and have even stopped a few fights between patrons. It’s the least I can do to ensure they enjoy their meal.”

“Thanks again,” I supply, proud that the guys aren’t disrespectful to these hard-working men and women. Nothing like the tall tales my mother used to scare me with in regard to these men. Criminals my ass. No surprise that I’ll be adding another lie to the ever-growing list of infractions committed against me by my parents.

As I walk back to the tattoo shop, I think over what the waitress said and understand that what I’ve been told in regard to these larger-than-life men has been overly exaggerated. I know the club isn’t fully on the up and up, but everything I’ve seen with my own eyes points to the fact that they don’t do anything incomprehensible to anyone unless they deserve it. Once Phantom has his lunch in hand, and I’ve served Brew his, I head up the stairs and enter my apartment.

I can’t help laughing when I see Calvin and Hobbes on the cat tree. Despite my concern, they’re rather adept at climbing up, and also, jumping down. “Hey, babies,” I croon as I relock the door behind me, and kick off my shoes, getting comfortable. I hang my light jacket on one of the hooks on the hat stand behind the door. “Momma’s home.”

Tiny meows fill the room as they quickly leap their way down off the tree, flipping and flopping until they’re on the floor, and running straight to me. I wince slightly when they start climbing my jeans. Their little nails are razor sharp; I bear the punctured proof on my legs and arms. Quickly scooping them off my legs, I cuddle them in one arm while carrying my lunch to the two-seater kitchen table in my dining room. Although calling it a dining room might be a bit of a stretch since the kitchen and living room are one giant room. They both start purring as they nuzzle against me. “Do you want some gushy foods?” I ask, which makes Hobbes meow even louder.

“Let’s get you some then,” I state, setting them down by their water bowl before I quickly open up two small cans of kitten wet food, put it on a dessert plate then place it in front of them. “Oh my goodness, look at you two go!”

While they chow down, I wash my hands then sit down at the table so I can eat my own lunch. I’ve settled into a bit of a routine since being on my own. When I get up in the morning, I shower then dress before making myself some breakfast. Then, after checking on the kittens and making sure they’ve got plenty of water and dry food, I head downstairs to help them prep for the day and clean the bar. Once I’m satisfied that the job’s complete and done to the best of my ability, I go over to the tattoo shop and repeat the same thing on a much smaller and less messy scale.

Lunch is pretty much the same every day. Both Brew and Phantom ask for the special then give me too much money. Today, however, I pushed back just a little, yet it didn’t work. “Looks like my stash is growing, boys,” I say to the two kittens who are currently face deep in their plate. “Goodness, I’m going to have to clean the two of you up after you’re done.”

After lunch, I typically take a short nap on my couch with the noise of the television in the background. Calvin usually snuggles against my chest while Hobbes curls up on my shoulder with his head buried against my neck. Then, nice and refreshed, I pull out the laptop and do some coursework so I can get my GED.

Despite the fact I only have a fifth-grade education, I’m not finding it as difficult as I expected. I’ve had to reach out to Hawg a few times with computer questions, which he’s always answered. A week ago, he brought a book to the bar he said might help. It’s an actual GED workbook, which I work on at night. Maybe it’s because I read whatever came into the house whenever I possibly could or if they were passed out, I would change the channel to an educational one and watch as long as they were sleeping. I always managed to get back into my room just before they woke up, although I remember hearing my father complain on more than one occasion that something must be wrong with the television because it was on a different channel than he remembered.

As I curl up on the couch, each kitten finds his spot while I flip channels. “Let’s learn about basic carpentry,” I say to Calvin who merely burrows closer. Before I drift off, I remember I need to call or text Cassie to see if she can take me shopping later. “I need to make a list when I wake up.”

“Thanks for picking me up to go shopping,” I say to Cassie as she heads toward the department store just outside of town. We might live in Roanoke, but we’re definitely not within the city limits, so a trip requiring something the Main Street stores don’t carry is no easy feat.

“Girl, no problem at all. I like hanging out with you, Rae.”

Grinning shyly at her, I reply, “I like hanging out with you too, Cassie.” Remembering my slight panic when I woke up and saw my period had arrived, I continue. “And thanks for bringing me stuff to handle my period, then walking me through how to use the dang things.” I know my face is tomato red at this point, but like I told Brick, I didn’t have those supplies growing up. No, I used whatever I could find, which was messy and disgusting. I shudder at the memories trying to invade my head.

“I’m pissed that your mother never taught you! Or hell, another girlfriend. Now, I know you have a list because you always have one with you, so go ahead and add the following to it; a heating pad, a pain reliever, and chocolate.”

“Chocolate?” I question, jotting the other two items down. The cramps this month are horrendous, but I’ve always just sucked it up because what else was there for me to do?

“It makes everything better. Oh, and a stain remover for when you do laundry, because accidents happen. My mom told me to put a towel on my sheets to keep them clean, but I found those pee pads I used for my puppy work even better, so write a box of them down too.”

I shake my head but do as she says. “Seems like an awful lot of fuss for something that doesn’t last too long,” I murmur, looking at my expanded shopping list. I can definitely handle the extra purchases, but still, it kind of seems like a waste to me.

“I can tell you’re in pain and bet you haven’t taken a damn thing, you’re just pushing through, right?” she asks, glancing in my direction.

I smile, but suspect it looks like a grimace as my abdomen feels like it’s in the grip of one of those pinching machines, the ones that kids play to try and win a stuffed animal. “Mmhm,” I respond, unable to vocalize anything due to the pain ripping me apart.

“So, I’m going to make sure you’ve got my tried-and-true items to make it through Auntie Flo,” she replies. “Oh, and I’ll give you the name and number for my female doctor. You’re going to want to get checked out once it’s over so you can get on birth control.”

Feeling like an absolute dunce at this point, I repeat, “Birth control?”

“Girl, if what you’ve told me about Brick is true, when you finally come to your senses and let him claim you, you’re going to be going at it like two rabbits.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sex. Fucking. Doing the horizontal mambo. Playing hide the salami.” When I don’t respond, she looks my way and sees my mouth agape. “Let me guess, you never got the birds and the bees talk, did you?”

Shaking my head, I feel tears well up in my eyes. I’m so unprepared right now I feel like an utter failure. She grasps my hand in hers and shakes it. “None of that. Put some wine coolers on your list. It’s gonna be a long night because I refuse to let you be unprepared for what’s bound to be coming your way.”

“No way!” I gasp out after she finishes telling me what happens between a man and a woman. Or, as she said, between couples of the same sex, which I wasn’t aware happened either! “I think you’re pulling my leg right now, Cassie.”

“With the right person, it’s positively stratospheric,” she replies, opening another wine cooler and handing it to me. “How are you feeling right now?”

I take mental note of how my body feels then shrug. “Kind of numb but the cramps don’t feel as though they’re tearing me apart.”

“Told you the pain reliever I recommended is the bomb. I’m sure the two wine coolers you’ve had so far don’t hurt either. We should probably order a pizza or something so you’re not hungover tomorrow for work.”

“I don’t even know what that is.”

“You will if we don’t slow down and eat something, plus drink some water,” she sagely replies.