Lock and Key
Lock & Key
Copyright © 2014 by Cat Porter
Smashwords Edition 2014
Lock & Key
Copyright © 2014 by Cat Porter
Smashwords Edition 2014
Cover
Tatiana Fernandez, Vila Design
Editor
Chelsea Kuhel
Formatting & Interior design
Angela McLaurin, Fictional Formats
https://www.facebook.com/FictionalFormats
Skeleton Key Necklace
Blue Bayer Design NYC
http://www.etsy.com/shop/billyblue22
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above author of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Once upon a time I lost everything.
Then I ran away.
But I returned because I had to, and I stood on the edge and looked over.
Truth is a painful sword. It cuts deep and stings, but the pain evaporates, the blood dries, and in the place of such savagery is a gleaming absolution and an absolute purity.
It’s blinding.
It hurts.
And it is utterly beautiful.
You can’t escape it. Truth demanded a leap, I took it.
This is a story of my love for two men at two different moments of truth in my life. One man is gone forever; the other is very much alive.
Love not only stings when you lose it, when it’s ripped away from you, but when it first bites, it can sting just as deeply.
This is also a story about the love between my sister and me, and our redemption through two families—one bonded by blood, the other by brotherhood—that tore us apart yet bound us together forever.
Real life is messy and strange, and our ride through it left plenty of bruises, slashed hearts, a few lifeless bodies, and blood and smoke in its wake.
But it’s our story, this rather mangled tale.
I should have left when I had polished off that first drink.
That had been my initial plan, but the Doobie Brothers “Eyes of Silver” was playing on the jukebox, and that really deserved another drink for old time’s sake. Not for the sake of the future, though.
Isn’t that why I stopped here in the first place? I was less than two hours out of Rapid City, but I wanted to put off harsh reality just a little while longer.
Just one more drink.
I gestured at the bartender with my empty glass. He winked at me.
My motel room across the highway was most certainly not a fabulous destination, but I just couldn’t face another night watching bad reality TV or the usual sitcoms as I had done the night before at the motel in Montana. Tonight was different. No, I couldn’t sit still tonight. The walls of the room seemed to stretch to hold me in. Dead Ringer’s Roadhouse was a much, much better alternative.
It hadn’t changed much in the fifteen years I had been away. License plates from all over the fifty states still covered the walls. That original poster for a Doors concert in California was thankfully now secured in a thick brass frame along the wall. A dramatic spotlight glowed over it for all those who came regularly to pay their respects. I suppose the owners finally realized its worth.
The enlarged vintage photo over the bar of a 19th century gold prospector had been professionally framed and dramatically lit as well. Another photo, it too now framed, of an old locomotive stuck in over twelve feet of snow during the infamous blizzard of 1949, took pride in its place on the opposite wall. Gentrification had arrived in this little corner of South Dakota. The same beer-soaked smell filled my nostrils, though.
Three pool tables were up on a raised section of the room where some older pot-bellied bikers were playing a game. In the center of the spacious bar was a sunken dance area, its wooden floor polished and worn from years of use. The dart boards still dotted one wall as did the myriad of hunting trophies peering down at us from overhead—an eccentric variety of antlers, furry, glassy-eyed heads, and even a few stuffed fish, all mute, somber witnesses to the whirligig of flesh and alcohol below.
Tables topped with glass jars holding a votive candle surrounded the below level dance floor. All of the seats were filled with spirited partiers, both young and old. The bar was still as long as I remembered it with the same worn stools to match. I lowered myself back on my barstool and waited for my refill. The couple at my right laughed uproariously at a joke the waitress told them. The lights lowered a notch.
I leaned on the bar and rubbed the back of my neck. I definitely needed to have a laugh and relax before I got into town tomorrow and faced the music. I was too wound up to sleep tonight.
All my belongings, and there weren’t many, were packed in my Toyota Land Cruiser. It’s good to be mobile at a moment’s notice, like I was when my sister called me. She wouldn’t have asked me to come home if it wasn’t serious. I quit my job, packed my things, and came back to South Dakota. Anything for Ruby. Anything.
But I’m not going to think about that right now. Right now, I’m going to have a good time. Well, at least have a laugh or two. Or something. That’s why coming to Dead Ringer’s had seemed like such a good idea a couple of hours ago after I had checked into the motel. My home town was located on the other side of Rapid City, so there wasn’t too much of a chance of anyone recognizing me here tonight.
I had taken a long hot shower, scrubbed the grime of the road off me, and eased the ache in my lower back from sitting in the car most of the day. I had put on my black jeans and my favorite charcoal-grey graphic t-shirt dotted with studs and tiny rhinestones along the wing design, and shoved on my oldest pair of engineer boots, then set off for Dead Ringer’s. My legs always felt solidly weighted into the ground with these treasured puppies on, which is always a good thing, especially now. They were definitely a nice change from the high-tops I had been wearing to stay comfortable as I drove.
