All for Maddie (15 page)

I was crying by the time I
got it all out. “That is the last thing I remembered until my friends came to
find me fully clothed passed out. They were laughing at me for being drunk and
passing out in your bed. Did you go tell them that I passed out drunk in your
bed?”

“Come here, Whitley,” Alex
spoke in a quiet voice. I came off the bed when he tried to pull me to him.
Really? Did he really think I was going to permit him to touch me?

“Don’t fucking touch me!
Don’t you ever fucking touch me!” I had to get out of there. I couldn’t be in
the same room with him.

Thank God the downstairs was
dark. Dana had gone to bed. I sat in the dark living room with my legs pulled
up to my chest on the end of the sofa. I’m not sure how long I sat there, but I
was sure it was a while. Alex never came after me which was a good thing. I’m
not sure I would have been able to control my elevated voice.

“Hey, you okay?” my dad
asked, sitting beside me, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me close. I
wanted to cry.

“Yeah, I’m okay, just
couldn’t sleep,” I lied.

“Did you and Alex have a
fight?”

“No, why would you think
that?”

“I heard you yelling.”

Shit, did he hear what I was
yelling?

“I couldn’t make out a word
of it, but I could tell you weren’t very happy with him,” he said, kissing the
side of my head. “It’s hard to start a new relationship, Whit. Especially when
you first start living together. I swore I would go crazy that first year with
Dana. She used to squeeze the toothpaste from the middle. That drove me
insane,” he snickered. I wished I was mad at Alex for squeezing the toothpaste
from the middle. “It’ll get easier. You guys have a lot to learn about each
other, but I do think you are doing the right thing by making a go of it. He
sure loves that baby in there. That means a lot to me.”

“I know it does, Daddy.”

“I can’t believe how much I
miss her. I hate feeding her fish. Every time I do, I hear her look up and say,
‘I feed a fish, Papaw.’ I even dropped an M&M in there the other day,” he
laughed.

“She misses you too, but I’m
glad there are no fish here.”

He laughed again. “I’m sure
you are. You better get some sleep,” he coaxed, kissing the side of my head
again before leaving me to my dark thoughts.

“I will. Night.”

“Night, sweetie.”

I never went back upstairs
with Alex. I went in and snuggled with my Maddie.

<><><> 

“You sweep wif me,” Maddie exclaimed
in the morning. I smiled down at her.

“Did you sleep well?”

“No, dem gemin’s did sweep
under da bed.”

“No, they didn’t. Gremlins
aren’t real. They’re like daddy’s big TV, they’re just pretend.” Was she ever
going to forget about gremlins?

“I did see one.”

“I think it was just in your
dream.”

“I need a gun.”

I laughed. Was she going to
shoot the damn things?

“Papaw here!” she remembered,
sliding off the bed.

“You go potty,” I called
after her.

I lay on Maddie’s bed,
staring up at the ceiling and the light peering in from the top of the curtain,
thinking about the night before. I said some pretty rotten things. I got pretty
vulgar in my description of that night. I lay there contemplating what I was
supposed to do and what was expected of me for a long time. I was young. I was
only twenty-one and had no choice but to live this messed up life. I needed a
gun. For who, I wasn’t sure. Maddie did need her daddy and he loved her. That
part I was sure of.

“Papaw teld you come eat
beakast,” Maddie yelled, from the door in nothing but her panties.

“Come here. Where are your
clothes?” I asked, pulling myself out of bed and to her dresser.

“I did take em off.”

“Why?”

“A sweeping time over now. I
not wear jammies dis time,” she explained, raising her foot for her shorts. God
I loved that kid.

I walked out with Maddie,
avoiding the look from Alex as he sipped his coffee. I retrieved my cellphone
and opened up the new text message sent at four in the morning, looking right
at Alex.

I’m sorry. I remember
every single detail.

I erased it.

<><><> 

I told Maddie, from the back
seat of my dad’s car, that I would come and get her in a couple of days. My dad
insisted that they would bring her home, but I didn’t want them to. I needed to
go home to
my
house for a couple of days. I needed out of Alex’s house
and wished he would take me with him.

I walked to the kitchen and
started cleaning up from breakfast, ignoring Alex as I passed him.

“Can we talk?” he asked,
sliding to the stool.

“No,” I replied, walking out
and leaving him alone.

I spent the entire day in my
room doing nothing. I messed around on my laptop. Called Maddie, and then
Kylie, hoping she would want to get together. She was out of town. Figures, I
called Regan next, wondering if she was busy. It was Saturday so she was
probably doing family things with her perfect little girl and her perfect
husband.

“WHAT!” she answered in a
scream. I hesitated, taken aback by her angry tone.

“Regan?”

“Oh sorry, Whitley. I thought
you were my asshole husband again. We kind of had a fight.”

“It must be in the air. Where
is he?”

“He took Trenton to a Red Sox
game.”

“You don’t go with them?”

“No, I hate baseball. That’s
their thing, besides he went with a guy from work and his daughter. What’s up?”

“Not much. Bored and I’m not
talking to your brother.”

“Want to go do something?”

“Uh, yeah,” I replied, happy
that Alex had a sister and one that I liked.

“Okay, I’ll pick you up in an
hour. What do you want to do?”

I looked at the clock,
reading six pm. “Are you allowed to go to a bar?”

“Honey, I wear the pants in
this family, but I have to eat first.”

“I haven’t eaten either. We
can get something out.” I wasn’t cooking for that jerk. He could eat shit. I
didn’t care.

“Okay, see you in a little
while.”

I wasn’t expecting Alex to be
out of his man cave when I emerged from getting ready.

“You look nice, going
somewhere?” he asked, looking up from what looked like a bowl of soup.

“Yup, going out with your
sister.”

“I don’t think that’s such a
good idea. My sister is kind of crazy. I would rather you didn’t do that.”

Really?
I snickered
and shook my head. “Yeah, and I would rather you go to hell. We don’t always
get what we want.”

“Whitley, this arrangement is
never going to work if you don’t let go.”

“This arrangement? Are you
serious right now? I didn’t choose this arrangement. You did. I didn’t get a
choice in the matter or did you forget that too?” I asked, opening the door and
slamming it behind me. At least the son of a bitch had nerve. Thank God, Regan
was coming down the street as I left.

“Where we going?” I asked
getting in and buckling up.

“I thought we would just go
to Blue Moon.”

“Blue Moon?”

“Yeah, it’s just some small
dive bar. It’s out of the city limits. The cops stakeout all the bars in the
city. I don’t want to have to call my husband to bail me out of jail.”

“Did you make up?”

“No, we never make up. We
just forget it. He sent me a text message that said
I love you
so that
means were done fighting about it. It was dumb anyway. We were supposed to take
Trenton school shopping today. They both deserted me for a stupid ballgame.”

I laughed, wishing Alex and
me were fighting over a stupid ballgame.

“What about you? What did my
stupid brother do now?” she asked.

I turned away briefly,
looking out the window. “It’s complicated,” I replied, hoping that was enough.
It was. She smiled a weak smile and moved on.

“I love your dad,” she said,
changing the subject.

“Thanks. I was nervous about
you guys meeting him. He can be a little rough around the edges sometimes.”

“And so can my mother,” she
assured me.

“We’re not going in here,
Regan,” I demanded, pulling into Blue Moon. Blue Moon, the biker bar.

“Yes, we are, now get out.”

“Regan, this is a biker bar.
We’ll get raped and murdered or some shit.”

Regan laughed at me. “We’re
not going to get raped or murdered. And they have the best food in all of
Lincoln.”

I followed her in not liking
it. I didn’t like it at all. This was going to be bad. I could feel it.

The bar was pretty empty,
only a couple of guys at the bar, a couple in a corner shooting pool, and two
women and two guys playing cards at a table.

“The usual?” the tattooed
bartender asked.

The usual? I repeated in my
head. Did Regan hang out in a biker bar often?

“Yeah, thanks Sam, make it
two, and we need menus.”

We drank one drink of
something. I’m not sure what it was, but I didn’t like it. I ordered my
customary bottle of Bud next. Regan was right. The food was delicious, either
that or I was just starving from sitting in my room all day pouting.

By nine o’clock the bar was
full of guys in cut off jean vests and tattooed arms. Women wore skimpy tight
shirts, biker boots, and jeans. They weren’t like the bikers I had watched on
television at all. They were good ol’ boys and funny as shit. Regan knew
several of them.

“Hey Regan, you owe me a
chance to win back my bet,” a burley biker called, holding out a pool stick
toward us.

“No way, my mother is still
pissed about your life time ticket to her theater,” Regan called.

“Hey, tell your mother, my
kid appreciates the hell out of that win. Come on, you got my choker last time.
You owe me.”

“And you almost got me
divorced when I lost the bet for a tattoo.”

“You have a tattoo?” I asked
shocked as hell.

“Shhh, my family doesn’t know
about that. I was drunk.”

“You have season tickets for
putt, putt golf.”

“I never use them. You have
my bra?”

What?

The biker laughed on that
one.

“Yeah Regan, I almost shot
him in the head when he came home with that one. No more betting underwear,” a
girl called from throwing darts.

“Sorry Roxy, that was the
only thing I had on me that night,” Regan laughed.

“I’ll bet you drinks for the
rest of the night,” the biker challenged, not about to let it go.

“Can you shoot pool?” she
asked, turning to me.

“I’m not getting any tattoos
or giving up any clothing.” I could shoot pool. I was damn good at it. Jaron
was a shark and he had taught me moves that I was sure they hadn’t seen.

“You’re on, Red” Regan
called, holding up two fingers to the bartender for two more drinks.

We shot partners with Red and
a guy they called Thorn. Red broke and went two more times, claiming the low
balls. I went next and last. I cleared the table with one turn. I was good, but
I didn’t think I was that good. I was trying like hell not to show my
excitement. I had never done that in my life. Regan and both men stood holding
sticks with their mouths hanging to the floor.

“We were hustled,” Red was
sure.

“How could you be hustled?
You’re the one that wouldn’t shut the hell up until we played,” Regan
retaliated.

“How the hell did you bank
that eight ball like that?” Thorn asked. “You gotta teach me,” he begged.

“I can’t be giving away my
secrets,” I joked. It took me a whole summer to get that move down.

“Come on, I’ll buy you a
drink.”

“Wait, aren’t you buying me
drinks anyway?” I teased.

“I’ll buy you a house.”

I laughed. “Okay, okay. Line
it up,” I said, giving in.

Thorn set up the difficult
shot, recreating the balls as they were.

“Okay, you can’t shoot this
like a normal bank shot,” I explained. “You can’t just cut it in and bank it
like you normally would. You have to hit it hard with center ball, aiming
toward the left of the eight ball.”

“Wait, you just said hit it
center ball,” he questioned.

“Yeah, hit the Q ball center,
aiming for the left of the eight ball.”

“Oh, oh, I get it,” he said
as I lined up my shot.

“You want to hit it with
about a seven speed,” I continued, swinging my hips into it, hitting it perfect
straight to the side pocket.

“Okay, okay, let me try,” he
said, lining it back up.

He missed, over and over and
over.

“Do it again,” he finally
said.

I did, again, making it the
first try.

“What the fuck?” he asked as
everyone laughed. I loved it.

Regan and I walked back to
the bar for our free drinks, leaving Thorn alone, trying not to be showed up by
a girl.

That night was just what I
needed. Regan was right. Those guys were awesome. Nobody tried to hit on us and
even the biker women were overly friendly. By eleven o’clock, we were hammered
and I was having the best time I’d had since I’d been forced to move there. I
could get used to hanging out there.

“You know we’re going to have
to call our men, don’t you?” Regan slurred, leaning into me.

“I’m not calling my man. Your
man can drive my ass drunk…assed drunked….drunk ass home,” I said, finally
getting it right.

Regan laughed and after one
more drink she called Vince.

“You have to call Alex,” she
said.

“Uh-uh. Why?”

“Trenton’s already in bed.”

Damn. “You call him.”

“What? You’re the one
sleeping with him. You do it.”

“No way, let’s hitch a ride
with one of these guys,” I countered. She laughed.

“I’m not getting on the back
of a bike with any of these guys,” she assured me.