Mending Michael (8 page)

MICK

"Who's there?" I barely have the energy to raise my voice, but I need to get up to pour another glass of vodka, so I ask again through the pounding door. "Who the fuck's there?"

"It's Holly."

Holly? "Kinda busy at the moment."

"I'm not leaving, Mick. I can pound on this door all night, so you might as well let me in."

"Bitch," I mumble under my breath.

"Yeah, I heard that, but, whatever, I'm still not going anywhere."

Sticking the vodka back in the freezer after pouring myself another, I unlock the door and swing it open, not bothering to greet or acknowledge her. I let her stand there in the doorway while I make it back to my couch -
the couch my precious niece had been sleeping on only this afternoon.

While running my hand along the leather fabric where Kenna was sleeping, there appears a set of denim-clad legs in front of me. "Go away," I mumble without looking up.

Then she's sitting right next to my hand, removing my glass from my other hand and replacing it with a plastic-covered Styrofoam cup. What is it with Holly and coffee that she keeps insisting I drink it? But lacking the desire to speak, I refrain from commenting.

"So... what are we gonna do?"

"What are
we
gonna do?" I ask slowly, setting down the coffee I never asked for. "I asked you to leave. Why are you even here?" I barely give her a second glance.

"Well I'm not here for you, that's for sure. You're an asshole."

Incredulous, I ask again, "Then why..."

"I'm here for that sweet little girl of yours," she interrupts. "She's probably frightened half to death being with people she doesn't even know."

Now the bitch has my attention. I stand, grabbing her under the arm and pulling her up with me. "Get out of my fucking house."

She thins out her lips but makes no effort to move. Instead, she sticks her hands in her pockets, leaving her thumbs, with her turquoise-painted nails, hanging out. "I'm not leaving. I'm here to help."

Frustrated beyond belief, I punch my apartment door, leaving a nice jagged hole in it and bloodied knuckles on my left hand.

"Yup. You're an asshole," she says, turning and scanning my whole apartment. She finds whatever she's looking for and walks away, returning five seconds later with my roll of paper towels. Shoving them at me, she says, "You need a plan."

The paper towel roll drops to the floor, creating a path to the door I just punched, while I start wrapping my offended hand with the towels left in my grasp. "What are you, a lawyer?"

Holly scoffs and says, "You wish. I just think you can't sit on your ass and sulk all weekend. You need to have a definitive plan... and a lawyer."

"Yeah, well, no one wants to see a drunk on a Friday afternoon. I checked." I grab the glass of vodka she took out of my hand before and sit back down on the couch.

"That's another thing." Holly whisks the glass out of my hand again.

"What the fuck?"

"You can't have an alcohol level of cajillion when you're fighting for custody of your niece. I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure that's one of the rules."

"Oh fuck," I pretty much say to myself and lean, defeated, against the back of my couch.

"It's okay." She's. Still. Talking. "By Monday, when you get to see a lawyer, you'll be clean as a whistle."

"Who the fuck asked you to be my AA sponsor?"

"What?"

"Jesus Christ. Never mind."

"Drink the coffee. It'll be good for you."

I don't drink the coffee. I don't even acknowledge that she told me to.

"So first... we need to find you a new place to live. I don't think living above a bar will be looked upon favorably."

My eyes remain closed. "Are you still here?"

"Yes, I'm still here."

"Why?"

"'Cause I'm gonna help you get Kenna back."

Sitting up, I finally look at her.

And ignore the fact that her eyes sparkle.

"Don't you have your own problems to deal with? Like your father making you go back home this summer, or whatever other reason you were crying the other day?"

She bites the side of her lip like she always does. "It's easier to take care of someone else's problems than your own," she says, straightened and serious.

I raise my eyebrows in agreement. "I don't need your help."

"Tough." She rolls the paper towels back up, places them on the coffee table, and takes her cup of coffee. Sitting back down next to me, she pats my knee like we're old buddies and says, "I'm here to stay."

"What? Stay? Who elected you my guardian angel? And what makes you think I want you to stay here?"

The sparkles in her eyes fizzle out, and I'm pretty sure I just hurt her feelings. Finally. But tough. She came here uninvited.

"I wasn't talking about actually
staying
here. I just meant, I'd see you through this, you ungrateful ass."

"Hey." I cup my hand around her wrist, a habit I really need to break but can't seem to stop myself from doing. "No one
asked
you to do anything. I don't need you to see me through this or anything else I got going on in my life. You got that?"

She nods, her eyes flat, her face grim.

Holly swings her designer purse over her shoulder and leaves my home.

Leaving me feeling shittier than I had before she walked into my home.

And if the clenching in my chest is any indication, into my heart.

HOLLY

Rather than hanging out with my friends today, I decide to pay a visit to Donny, even though he was rude yesterday. I figure I can't really blame him, considering all that's happening with Kenna. But after spending the whole rest of the night, or early morning actually, researching child services laws, I want to put what I learned into action. Mick may not want me to help, but that little girl needs someone to come to her defense, and well, let's face it, I got nothing better to do with my time. I'm flunking out of college, my friends think of me as just good for a fun time—not anyone special—and well, I really like Kenna. I love her innocence.

"What are you doing here at twelve in the afternoon on a Saturday? And on your day off, nonetheless?"

"Can I have a Sprite, Don?" I lay a twenty dollar bill on the bar, "and a steak salad, please?"

"Here's your Sprite. Now why you here?"

"Where's Kenna's mom?"

"Why do you care?"

"Because I do. Is she in rehab?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because she doesn't think she has a problem, I don't know. Why are you getting involved in this, Holly? It's none of your business, and I'm sure Mick doesn't want you sneaking around asking about his life. I heard you leave last night, Holl. You can't get involved."

"Why not? Someone has to."

"Not you. You barely know these people."

Donny's right. I don't know these people, so why do I want to get involved? Is it to forget my own problems? Like I told Mick last night, it's easier to deal with other people's problems than with my own. But the fate of this little innocent girl seems so much more important than my desire to break free from my father.

Unless of course, she's better off without her birth family.

"Don? Can I ask you a question?"

"I'm sure nothing I say will stop you."

"I thought you liked me."

Don puts the ketchup and salt and pepper in front of me. "I like you, Holl. I just think you're making a mistake getting involved. Maybe...maybe Kenna's better off without her mother."

"But her uncle? Mick? Shouldn't she at least be with
him
?"

"With a bachelor who works nights and drinks too much? I don't know. He loves that little girl to pieces, but he couldn't even handle this one week with her. How's he gonna get custody of her? And if he does, how's he gonna take care of her? There are things you don't know about that family, Holly. Maybe it's best all-around if Kenna's matched with a good family."

My heart hurts just listening to him. Kenna's probably scared to death right now.

"What if..." I stop talking, because all of a sudden, Donny's eyes are blown up, and he's shaking his head very slightly. "What?" I ask, but then I notice Donny's eyes are looking beyond me, and I follow them.

The wind is suddenly knocked out of me.

With the same jeans and tee he had on last night, and his eyes blood-shot and swollen, Mick is standing at the bar's side door. "Don't you ever go home?"

I'm guessing Mick's snide remark was directed at me, since it's no surprise that Donny would be here.

"Mick, you okay?" Donny asks.

"You think you can cover again tonight? I just..."

"Yeah. I got it, Mick. Don't worry about it."

Tommy brings out my steak salad, then sees Mick. "Mick, man, sorry to hear."

"Mmmm." Mick doesn't really respond.

Tommy shrugs it off and returns to the kitchen.

Mick sits two seats down from me but says nothing. He does, however, stare at me while I eat my salad.

"Like I said before," I say, taking a sip of my soda before finishing, "take a picture. You can stare at it all day long if you want to." No longer hungry, I push my plate away, take one more sip of my drink, and tell Donny to keep the change from my twenty, before storming out of the bar.

My mind is so distracted by Mick Ross and his asshole ways, and his niece that stole my heart, that I don't realize anyone is behind me until a cool hand slips around my forearm as I'm opening my car door. "You have got to stop doing that," I demand, yanking my arm from him.

He removes his hand, but all I hear is his breathing behind me. I open my door and turn to look at him. "What?"

Mick's shoulders rise and fall along with his increasingly rapid breathing, but still, he just stands there.

"Listen, if you're done here, I gotta get going." I proceed to get into my car, but the clearing of his throat stops me.

"What is it, Mick? Do you want my help now or do you want to tell me to fuck off? 'Cause truthfully, you're hard to read, and... I don't have the time to figure you out."

"I'd like your help," he says so quietly it could have been the trees blowing in the wind.

I shut my car door and lock it with my remote lock. "Then let's go upstairs and talk."

MICK

"Actually, do you mind if we go somewhere? I'd like to show you something." I'm astonished at the uncertainty of my words and the insecurity in my voice. Hopefully, Holly can't hear it.

"Oh." She hesitates, unsure herself. "Okay. Sure. Um..." she turns to look at her car, like maybe she should drive, but I stop her.

"I'm not drunk, I'll drive."

"Oh."

"We can take my sister's car, or... I have an extra helmet if you don't mind riding on the back of my bike."

Her eyes widen and those sparkles light up. "Really?" she asks, smiling.

"You like riding on motorcycles?"

"I don't know. I never have."

"Do you want to?" I ask, suddenly nervous to have her sitting behind me...so close.

"Okay," she says, still smiling, and it catches me off guard that she didn't add some snippy remark with her answer.

I grab the extra helmet from the back hall and hand it to Holly. She swings her legs over my bike like she's an old pro. and she winks at me before I get on. I don't know if she's being a smart-ass, if she's flirting, or if it's just in her nature to wink for the heck of it. I get on my bike and scoff at myself—I'm putting way too much thought into it.

"So where we going?" she asks before I turn on the engine.

"The next town over. Do you trust me?" My tone is serious.

"Mick," she leans in toward my ear, "I barely know you, how can I trust you? But if you're asking if I feel safe with you, then, yes, surprisingly, I do."

My shoulders relax, yet my stomach tenses. How can I feel both relieved and nervous at the same time?

Without further thought, I tell her to hang on tight, and I start my bike. Her arms weakly wrap around my waist. Ignoring the thumping in my chest, I once again wrap my hands around her wrists and pull them in closer, so that she now has no choice but to lace her fingers together. I rip out of the parking lot, and her chest crashes against my back, her arms tightening even more around me. I'm grateful my heart is not in my stomach, because I'd be embarrassed if she knew just how rapidly my heart is beating at the moment. I'd hate to give her any ammunition to use against me, and I'm guessing if she sees through me, sees she makes me nervous, I'd be ripe for her picking.

Ten minutes later, we're where we need to be.

"Where are we?" she asks, applying pressure to my back as she lifts her leg over the seat.

"This is what I wanted to show you." I take her helmet from her and leave them both on my seat.

"A one-floor ranch?"

Leading her up the walkway, I find the key on my ring and unlock the door. "Please excuse the mess." I sigh, dropping my shoulders in grief. "My sister lives here."

"Oh. Charity?"

"Yeah." Picking up broken glass and ceramic as we work our way into the living room, I apologize again. "I'm sorry. The house doesn't usually look like this."

"You don't need to apologize for your sister's house. Is she home? Will she mind I'm here? I mean..."

"She's not home, and uh, I kind of caused this mess."

"
You
broke everything?"

"Nooo. I said I
caused
it. I didn't
make
the mess."

Holly follows me to the kitchen where I pull out a chair for her and offer her some water.

"No thank you."

"Coffee. You'd rather have coffee, right? That seems to be what you give to me all the time."

She chuckles and says, "I'm good. Now why are we here?"

"You said I need a place to live." I nod.

"Sooo... you're going to live with your sister?"

"My parents left this house to me. It's
my
house."

"Oh," she says, eyebrows raised, then dropped. "Sorry about your parents."

"They're not dead. They're in Florida."

"Oh." She laughs with her hand over her mouth.

"They took off the minute Charity told them she was pregnant." I shake my head in disappointment. "They wanted nothing to do with taking care of another baby."

Immediately, Holly's smile fades, and she sighs.

"Yeah. They're sweet like that," I joke, non-humorously. "Anyway, they sold my father's screen printing business, took the money, and bought themselves a nice place to live in Long Boat Key, and left me with the house, the taxes, and a pregnant heroin-addicted sister."

"Oh my." Holly looks like she doesn't even know what to say after that. But after a second or two, she straightens and asks, "So... how did your sister end up with the house?"

"When Donny gave me the job as night bartender, he let me rent the studio upstairs. Before that, I lived in the apartment out back. I couldn't live with T. She just...her lifestyle was too crazy for me."

"But she was pregnant. And, then after Kenna was born?"

"I couldn't stop her, Holly. I tried." I took a swallow of pride and continued our very sad story. "She wasn't as bad back then. She drank a lot. Smoked some weed. Maybe dabbled in harder shit. Recently, though....Anyway, I kept my nighttime job, took early morning classes, and spent part of my days here with Kenna...once she was born.

"When I would leave for work at night, I made sure my... ex-girlfriend or one of my neighbors would check in on them. Usually Kenna's to sleep by six, so...it worked." I'm trying so hard to hold back my tears, but knowing I failed Kenna is all-consuming, and I can't help myself. Squeezing the bridge of my nose and closing my eyes, I swallow back the impending tears. Once I've regained composure, I open my eyes to see Holly crying—not much, but her eyes sit behind a wave of unshed tears.

"Now why are
you
crying?" I half laugh, half blurt.

"I don't cry," she says emphatically, her eyes betraying her words.

"That's not what I saw the other day," I remind her, referring to her phone conversation in the corner.

Rolling her eyes and ignoring my reminder, she asks, "So where is she now?"

"Who?"

"Your sister."

"Oh. Luke and I dragged her to rehab this morning."

"Dragged?"

"She didn't go too willingly." I pause, remembering how we had to pick her up and carry her out. "But she loves Kenna...I know she does." With my heart sinking lower with every beat, I admit, "She just has a sickness she doesn't know how to cure."

"Will she sign herself out?"

"I hope not."

For several seconds, maybe even a whole minute, Holly and I just stare at each other—no words to say, but unable to trivialize the heaviness of the conversation by looking away.

Holly is the first to break the stare when she blinks back those tears she says she doesn't cry. "So," she starts, "your reason for taking me here...do you plan on moving in?"

I nod. "Yes."

"Good." Her auburn eyebrows dip in the center while she thinks. "You're going to need to prove it somehow, though, no?"

"The house is already in my name, I don't know how to prove it otherwise."

"Me neither, but...we'll find you a lawyer by Monday."

"Yeah? And how are you going to pull that trick out of your sleeve?"

"I don't know, but I like to think positive."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah."

"Am I some kind of pet project or something? Why are you doing this? Why me?"

"You asked for my help."

"You offered first. Why?"

Holly shrugs but says nothing.

"We did get off on the wrong foot, didn't we?" I admit.

"What does that mean?"

"It means...oh crap, I don't know what it means. Forget I said anything."

"It means we haven't been very nice to each other?" she remarks.

"Not very."

"You, like, had an attitude towards me from that first day." She fake pouts. "Do you, like, hate everyone who tries to get served illegally?"

For some reason, this makes me smile, but I don't respond to that question. She
is
the only one that rubbed me the wrong way when she tried to get served.

And I can't even put my finger on why.

Maybe because of the way she reacted when I wouldn't serve her?

Maybe because I had put her up on this unrealistic pedestal from the moment she walked through the door?

Maybe because no one had ever caused my heart to jump, stop, and pound ferociously all at the same time?

Not even Lara.

I am at a loss for a real reason why my stomach turned every time she'd walked into the bar in the past.

And now, I'm at a loss for why I can't even recall the feelings of dislike for her.

Because all I want to do right now is pull her into my arms and have her heal me from the inside out.