Little Memphis (21 page)

“Titty bruise,” Pax says, nudging Ford who glares at him. “Damn, someone needs to get laid.”

I pat Ford’s hand. “Oh, don’t worry. The night is still very young.”

Grinning, Ford focuses on me in a way that has nothing to do with fucking. Under his gaze, I’m alive like I’ve never been before. Heart racing, I shiver even as my body flushes with heat. My mind isn’t here in the restaurant, but with Ford in his room. Nipples hard against the silkiness of my bra, I feel him inside me. He owns me now.

Ford smiles, knowing my body craves him. I only wonder if he knows how my heart needs him too.

Shay

Queens of Duh and Huh

After picking up Bebe from work, we head to the grocery store. She smiles so much now that she and Lula live at the house. Darby dotes on the little girl. In fact, Lula didn’t come with me, just so she could finish a game of
Chutes and Ladders
with her favorite “aunt.”

“Darby isn’t old enough to be my mom, but she makes me feel like I’m protected,” Bebe says as we grab a loaf of bread. “You know, like a mom would.”

“If I’d grown up with a mom like Darby, I don’t know how I would have turned out. Probably a lot smarter.”

“You think you’re dumb? I sometimes forget how to spell my full name.”

When I don’t believe her, Bebe continues, “No one calls me Babette ever. I never use the D A M N name. When I have to fill out paperwork, I sometimes F U C K up my name. That’s why I’m the Queen of Duh.”

Laughing at her expression, I decide to share an embarrassing tidbit about me.

“As a teenager, I worked in a little crap store. On my first day, the manager called me Kay and I didn’t correct him. I worked there for six months with people calling me Kay. I even had a fucking nametag that said Kay, but I never said anything.”

“Well after a week or two, can you really speak up? You kinda have to roll with it, don’t you, Kay?”

“You have a point, Babette,” I say, laughing

“Well if I’m the Queen of Duh, you shall be the Queen of Huh.”

Laughing, we grab a gallon of milk, TV dinners, a bag of Skittles, and a few other essentials. As we’re checking out, I look at her debit card and laugh again.

“I wouldn’t know how to spell it,” I say, faking sympathy.

“Yeah, if only it was three letters long like your name.”

She gives me a wink and I bump her with my hip. “Babette is a sexy name.”

“It’s French. My mom was Manon. My sister was Sabine. My grandmother was Elise. French names are sexy on whores.” When the clerk frowns, Bebe shrugs. “Whores are people too.”

I don’t know what the clerk thinks, but she keeps her mouth shut and checks us out. After Bebe pays for her groceries, I get mine bagged. We put it all in one cart then head into the darkening evening.

Bebe snaps her gum then frowns at me. “Snapping gum might be the most obvious sign of F U C K I N G redneck ancestry there is. I should probably stop.”

“Or don’t. The world won’t end if you keep snapping it.”

“It’s one of those things I like to do, but I want to smack someone when they F U C K I N G do it. One day, someone will kick my A S S like I want to kick someone else’s. Did that make sense?”

Pushing the cart towards Darby’s PT Cruiser, I smile at Bebe enjoying the last few chomps on her gum. When I look back in front of us, I’m startled to find Creepy Spencer.

Wearing a hoodie over his stringy black hair, he looks like a college stoner. I have only a moment to react to the sight of him before he grabs for me. I don’t move quick enough and he yanks me against him by my hair.

Creepy Spencer smiles. “Bitch, did you think you could play with me?”

“Let her go of her, you F U…cker!” Bebe yells, slamming him with the cart.

Creepy Spencer pulls a switchblade from his pocket and waves it at Bebe. “Go away and I only cut her.”

Seeing the blade makes everything very real very fast. My gaze meets Bebe’s and she knows we’re in trouble.

With no time to plan, I reach back to grab for his balls. Creepy Spencer quickly tilts his hips to avoid getting neutered. Bebe rams him with the cart once then a second time. I struggle wildly and scream cuss words.
Why not?
It worked before.

“I’ll cut you!” he screams

He’ll hurt me either way. If I die, I won’t make it easy.

Bebe can’t reach him because the cart’s in the way. She shoves it aside while I bite into the arm holding me. Creepy Spencer screams at me. He digs the blade into my arm, sending me into a rage.

“Fucker shithead!” I scream, throwing myself back and hitting him in the jaw with my head.

Wearing my heels, I realize I have two weapons strapped to my feet. Creepy Spencer learns the hard way when I stomp down on his ankles. He shoves me face down onto the Cruiser, trying to pin me like in the first attack. I hear him yelp and see Bebe throwing cans of raviolis at him.

Twisting free, I roll back onto the car and pull my knees up. When I kick out, my heels nail him in the ribs. Based on his screams, he’s pissed. He’s also bleeding now, so we’re even at least.

Creepy Spencer backhands Bebe who goes sprawling. As her head slams into a nearby car, I kick out again, shoving Creepy Spencer forward.

Running and leaving Bebe isn’t an option, so I attack. Creepy Spencer is ready for me though. First, his elbow nails me in the forehead then the chin. The world spins, but I kick him in the knee and now he goes falling. On his way down, the knife is knocked out of his grip.

Unable to keep my balance, I topple onto him and we’re back in the position from weeks ago. My keys aren’t at hand, so I grab a can of ravioli sitting by the tire and use it to bash his face.

Creepy Spencer reaches for his blade, but it’s too far away. Instead, he swings wildly, hitting me in the face and clawing at my throat.

“Your mama never loved you!” I scream.

Completely unhinged, I laugh despite the pain and fear. I want to fucking kill him. I need him dead beneath me. I want to watch him choke on his blood. My hand holding the can comes down again and again on his face. He’s filth and everything I ever hated in life. He needs to die.

Creepy Spencer thinks the same about me. I see it in his bulging eyes as he tears at my arms. I hear him calling me names. Whore. Slut. Cunt. Oh, he’s clever with his insults. They’re not as much fun as mine though.

“You were a mistake! Your mama laughed about you! Mocked your loser ass! She hated you! Every day, she wished you were dead!”

I don’t know what I’m saying. I don’t really care. I need to win, but Creepy Spencer won’t fucking die. Grabbing my attacking hand, he shoves it back up at me and the can clips my cheek.

Temporarily stunned, I see stars and lose my balance. When he shoves me off him, I slam into the PT Cruiser.

I look at him kneeling over me with that can of raviolis and think about how much the next blow will hurt. Before it comes down, Bebe jumps on his back.

“Motherfucker!” she cries, holding on by his ears.

For the first time, I realize Creepy Spencer has big ass ears just like my real dad. Laughing now, I grab the switchblade and slam it into his leg.

I stab it once then twice. Over and over because I know there’s an artery in the leg that’s important. I saw it in a movie where the guy got shot in the thigh and bled out. I want that to happen to Creepy Spencer. I don’t know where the hell the spot is, so I stab wildly.

The momentum shifts again when he slams my head into the Cruiser and shoves Bebe into another car.

Though I expect Creepy Spencer to remove the blade and use it on me, he crawls away instead and collapses nearby. I still want to kill him, but he’s too far away and my fucking head hurts so bad that I think I might puke.

Once I crawl away to Bebe, we cower next to the Cruiser. I’m relieved to find my phone in one piece in my pocket. Dialing Ford, I hope he knows how to kill the sick motherfucker whimpering feet away from me.

Ford

Masks Come Off

Call it fate or God or pure coincidence, but Pax and I are only a few blocks away when I get Shay’s confusing call. Riding with Pax to the grocery store, I never consider I might lose Shay. I tell myself I’m handling a problem. A simple asshole needs to die and my woman just happens to be involved.

The crowd of people standing near the PT Cruiser backs up when we roar into the parking lot. I think I’m ready for anything. My enforcer shield cracks the moment I catch sight of blood on the side of the car. Is Shay hurt? I almost consider her being dead, but refuse to take the thought to its unacceptable end.

Creepy Spencer is on the ground, bleeding and whining quietly. A knife is stuck in his thigh.

“Don’t pull it out, man,” he says when I stand over him. “Bitch hit the femoral artery. If you pull it out, I’ll bleed to death.”

Shay and Bebe cower nearby. They’re bloodied and I see pure terror in Shay’s eyes. I look back at Spencer.

“Good news, man,” I tell him, pulling out the blade. “The bitch missed your artery.”

Spencer grimaces when I remove the blade, but looks relieved. Well, until I stab him higher and to the left.

“There’s the artery,” I say, pulling out the blade and stepping back as he bleeds wildly now. “You’re welcome.”

Spencer says something to me, but I don’t listen. Walking to Shay, I kneel down and run my thumb over her bloody lip.

“Tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m okay.”

 “Now, tell me the truth.”

“I’m banged up and he cut my arm. Bebe’s hurt too.”

“Want to wait for an ambulance or can you hold on while we take you to the hospital?”

“I want to go with you,” she says immediately then looks at Bebe.

“I’m not looking to talk to cops,” Bebe whispers. “I’ll do whatever gets me to my baby faster.”

Creepy Spencer is quiet now. I don’t know if he’s dead, but no one’s saving him with the amount of blood pouring out of his leg.

Picking up Shay, I’m taken by how small she feels in my arms.

“I kicked his ass,” she says, leaning her head against my chest.

Her words are full of bravado, yet her voice sounds young and scared.

“I should have killed him after he messed with you.”

“Yeah, you should have.”

Teasing me, Shay returns to her feet and climbs on behind me on the bike.

“Don’t let go,” I say softly.

Pax helps Bebe to his Harley. Sirens get louder in the night as the crowd of people creeps closer to Spencer’s body. Once Bebe is holding onto Pax, we take off to the hospital, passing ambulances and cops on the way.

We pull the Harleys into the unloading zone next to the emergency room. A few people want to tell us we can’t park there, but they keep their mouths shut. While I can’t be sure about my face, I know Pax looks pissed.

The woman in the front wants us to fill out paperwork and wait like everyone else. I look around and find the waiting room nearly empty. The only people are drunks and a homeless lady looking for a place to sleep.

“Tell the doctor on call that Slugger is here.”

The woman knows the name and hurries to get the doctor. Shay stands next to me, staring at where the woman disappeared.

“You have pull,” she whispers, but her face is paler than usual.

“Did he cut you anywhere besides your arm?”

“I don’t know,” she mumbles. “I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

Cupping her face, I study her eyes. “You’re scared and coming down from the adrenaline high. Breathe slowly and the puke feeling will pass.”

Trusting me, Shay melts against my body. Soon, a nurse appears and waves us back. I take Shay’s hand and guide her into the emergency room. Pax and I have spent a few evenings in the place, getting stitched up after fights. Knowing the drill, I lift Shay onto the gurney and kiss her softly. As I pull my lips away, she grabs my shirt with her bloody hands.

“Thank you for killing him,” she whispers, “I didn’t know how.”

“I’ll show you one day,” I promise, kissing her again.

Her lower lips trembling, Shay fights not to cry. She wants to be brave, but this violence isn’t her life.

“My groceries are on the ground,” she says, glancing at Bebe on another gurney.

“I’ll deal with it.”

Pax stands next to me and looks at Shay. “If you’ve got this shit handled, I’ll go back to the store and talk to the cops. Make sure they don’t hassle the girls until they’re ready to talk. Bebe gave me her grocery receipt. If Shay has hers, I can get someone to round up the crap that got fucked in the fight. I’ll drop it off at Darby’s place.”

Shay digs into her pocket and finds the receipt. When Pax takes it from her, she smiles faintly.

“I hope my brothers grow up to be like you. Tough on the outside and a gentle teddy bear on the inside.”

Pax smiles. “I’m going to ignore the teddy bear shit since you’ve had a tough day.”

“Okay, Yogi.”

Rolling his eyes, Pax leaves the emergency room. I glance again at Bebe sitting alone on the gurney. She looks too young to have a kid. When I think of her living in that house with the prostitutes and Paro hanging around, I want to kill the shithead again.

Soon, the doctors check out the girls, talking about keeping them overnight for observation. I say the same thing I’d say if Pax was in their position.

“Fix them up, so I can take them home.”

Bebe looks the most relieved about leaving. Once she gets staples for a gash in her head, she’s ready to go. Shay needs stitches for the cut on her arm. I hurry along the doctors until I can finally walk Shay and Bebe outside.

“I’m sorry,” Shay tells Bebe.

“We beat up a guy with cans of raviolis. Not bad for the Queens Duh and Huh.”

Shay hugs Bebe for a long time. Watching them, I feel like an asshole for letting Creepy Spencer live long enough to put these girls in danger. Sure, the order came down from Trigger. Except I could have killed the pervert later and made his death look like an accident. I’m a fucking enforcer, yet never thought to destroy a threat to my woman. Just because a fucker like Trigger told me to obey.

After Darby catches a ride from Jenn, the women arrive to pick up Bebe. In the backseat, Lula reaches for her mother who tells Shay goodbye.

Once the SUV speeds away, Shay waves long after it’s gone. I frown at her and she frowns at me.

“Did you bang your head?” I ask.

“No more than I do when you’re fucking me too close to the headboard.”

Smiling, I rub my eyes. “I’m taking you to my place.”

“I assumed that when Jenn left before I could get into the car.”

“Are you okay?”

Her gray eyes focus on me and she sighs. “I’m going to cry when we get to your house. You’ll want to prepare for that.”

“I have headphones,” I say, climbing on the Harley then helping her get on behind me. “It’ll be fine.”

Shay holds on tight and I check her at every light. Unsure if she’s scared or upset over the dead creeper, I guess it doesn’t matter. Shay needs to feel safe and I spend the night ensuring she does.

Once we’re home, Shay learns she can’t handle pain meds. She throws up within a half hour of taking the first dose. She cleans up then asks if I want to take her home. I tell her no. We’ll play this game all night.

Shay sits with me in the dark. Her mind is on tonight while I replay the night I had Creepy Spencer hanging upside down in the freezer. I should have killed him. He should have been dead and dumped in the quarry. I let him live. The club gave me an order and I followed it like a fucking dog. When the hell did I lose my balls?

Shay cries throughout the night, though she never truly lets go. Most of her sobs are strangled. Even admiring her strength, I’m pissed and want revenge. Except Creepy Spencer is dead and I’m stuck feeling like shit all night.

“You can’t sleep with all my crying,” she says around two am. “Should I go home?”

“Do you want to go home?”

Shay stares at me in the dark room with only the flickering TV screen lighting her face. I think she wants to leave, but she always shakes her head when I ask.

“I’m scared,” she whispers more than once.

Holding Shay against me, I hate the club whenever I feel her shaking.

“Why didn’t he kill me?” she asks as the sun rises. “He could have killed me more than once when we were fighting. Why didn’t he?”

Resting on our sides watching each other, we wait for fatigue to force one of us asleep.

“Creepy Spencer didn’t kill women. He raped and tortured them until they were too scared to tell anyone. Killing you was never part of his plan.”

Her eyes half closed, Shay nods. “I don’t know if I have the courage to live here.”

Finally, she says the words she hinted at all night. Every time Shay asked if she should go home, her mind was never on Darby’s house. She was thinking of Hawthorne, Georgia. Little Memphis tore off its mask tonight and she can’t stomach the ugly truth. I don’t blame her.

“I’ll get you a gun,” I whisper.

Shay stares at me and understands I can’t let her go. If she wants to run, she’ll have to do it by stomping on my heart. A better man might give her an out and make the choice easier.

Shay now sees me without my mask and I’m not sure she can stomach this truth either.