Snake Charmer (Rawkfist MC Book 2) (16 page)

Journey

I
know the family meet-up is a big move
on Donovan’s part. I also know his family will piss me off. All morning before
he picks me up, I wonder if I can keep my temper in check with people I’ll
likely loathe.

Donovan says nothing for the entire
drive to his cousin’s house. I hate seeing him so tense about people who ought
to feel blessed to know him. He closes himself off so much before we arrive
that I doubt he’d care if I set the place on fire and danced in the flames.

His buzz cut sporting cousin Jeff lives
in a big brick house in Rockwell with his well-coifed wife and three towheaded
kids. Even their yellow Labrador looks recently groomed.

“Do these people like you?” I ask
Donovan as we walk into the backyard where a dozen people chat about lawns and
school functions.

“No.”

“Good. I didn’t want them to stop
liking you after today.”

“Are you planning on being rude?” he
says, sounding both horrified and excited.

“Of course not. My rudeness comes
naturally. I never need to plan.”

Donovan smiles tightly. “I’ll fake an
illness after a half hour so that we can leave.”

“Or I can just say I want to leave in a
half hour because I’m bored, and then the blame is pinned on me. Besides, I’m a
big believer in honesty.”

Smiling again, Donovan approves of my
immediate disdain for his family. He doesn’t like feeling like an outsider with
them while being an outsider gives me a badge of honor. To me, people who care
this much about appearances are losers. If they were truly happy and
successful, there’d be no need to try this fricking hard.

Jeff and his wife, Liz, smile at me and
make small talk. They approve of my job. They’re less impressed by my zip code.
Mentioning my mother’s veterinarian business makes them smile in unison.
Speaking of my father instantly ends their bright grins. They’re easy to play
with, so I follow up every good thing with something they won’t like.

“My sister is the manager at the Mart
in Tumbling Rock. You might remember how she testified against Becca Pamton.”
Once they’re smiling, I add, “And how she married Becca’s biker baby daddy.
What was Court in prison for?”

“Selling stolen DVD players,” Jeff
instantly says as if he’d been waiting all day to blurt out the charge.

“Is that a real crime?”

“Yes.”

“It’s a victimless crime, though.”

“The retailer stolen from wouldn't
agree.”

“Does a retailer have actual feelings?”

“It’s a person so yes.”

“Weren’t they stolen from a Best Buy?
Does a franchise store have actual feelings?”

“I don’t understand your point.”

“I didn’t think you would.”

Laughing awkwardly, Liz asks, “How long
have you two been dating?”

“I don’t know.”

Liz looks to Donovan, who shrugs.

“How can you not know?”

“I didn’t write it on the calendar,” I
mutter, sipping the lemonade cocktail they’re handing out like candy, “I can’t
remember the exact day we first got friendly, but I’d say it’s been a couple of
weeks more or less.”

Liz doesn’t like my answer. I should
have written my first date with Donovan on my calendar and drawn a big red
heart around the day. I suspect she did that with Jeff, and they turned out
great so…

“Grandfather,” Jeff announces, looking
behind me. “This is Donovan’s new girl.”

I shake the old man sheriff’s hand. He
doesn’t let go quickly, and neither do I. We both squeeze harder, and I dig a
bit of my thumbnail into his flesh. Finally, the tall bald fricker lets go.

Even distracted by the handshake, I
notice how Jeff emphasized the word “new” in his introduction. Yep, I’m just
the latest chick in a long line of them for Donovan.
Nothing special to see
here.

“Glad you could join us today. People
talk in these parts. Some have even claimed you might be a bad influence on
Donovan.”

“They wouldn’t be wrong.”

Sheriff Arnold Mooney does
not
find
me funny. This fact proves endlessly entertaining to me.

“Donovan didn’t have an easy time
growing up,” Arnold says.

“Everyone has a sob story these days.
Well, not me. I had a comfortable childhood, but I swear everyone else is a
whiner.”

Arnold narrows his eyes at me. I narrow
them right back. I like this game a lot. Donovan is so quiet next to me that I
nearly forget he’s there.

“You work a respectable job,” Arnold
states.

“That’s what people say.”

“What else would they say?”

“Come on, Arnie, if I had something
nefarious going on, would I share it with a couple of cops?”

“We take the law very seriously in
Rockwell,” he says before adding, “Unlike in Tumbling Rock.”

“Some might say street justice still
counts as justice.”

“Those people would be wrong.”

“Don’t you kinda have to say that?
Without the law, you’d be out of a job.”

“You have a mouth on you.”

“Why does everyone keep telling me that
as if I don’t listen to myself all day?”

“Is your father keeping his nose
clean?” he challenges.

“I don’t know. We could call him right
now and ask.”

“You have anything to say?” Arnold asks
Donovan.

“No, she’s doing a bang-up job.”

I glance at Donovan whose expression is
unreadable. He’s putting on a show for these people. I just wish I could see
through it. Justice swears she can read Court like a book. He claims the same
thing about her. With Donovan, I feel like he’s a book written in a foreign
language with no available translation.

Sheriff Big Shot and the rest of the
Mooney family can’t read Donovan either. They quickly become uneasy about his
blank expression and decide to talk about soccer practice.

Donovan looks at me, and I see a hint
of my guy in his dull gaze. He wants me to understand he’s still inside this
hunk of nothing. I do understand, but I no longer know why he brought me to
this family get-together.

Did he expect them to scare me off? Was
I supposed to make a great stand for freedom and the American way? What was
Donovan’s hope when planning this meeting of people who’d never like each other?
Somehow, I doubt we’re here because he was too lazy and weak to tell them no to
the invitation.

No, Donovan wants something out of
today. He won’t tell me what, though. He probably isn’t even sure himself. I’d
figured out that much about this man. He isn’t even an open book to the guy
writing the story.

Donovan

O
n the day of Journey’s family barbecue,
I wake up on time despite my late shift the night before. Soon, Kitty is fed,
and the mail is inside. I’ve washed my single dish in the sink. I’m dressed and
ready to go to the barbecue. I stand at the open door of my house and look out
at my Jeep. At some point, Kitty joins me, and I realize I need to put him
outside before I go.

The dog doesn’t want to leave the warm
house for the cooling day. He stares up at me, and I relent to the begging in
his big brown eyes. We sit on the couch while I wait for him to soften his
stance about going out. I could leave him inside and hope he doesn’t shit
everywhere. Of course, I’d chosen to give the dog my leftover pizza for
breakfast. No, he won’t handle hours alone in the house.

There’s never a point where I decide to
stay home and ditch the barbecue. I just never get up from the couch. The TV
plays and Kitty snores next to me. I stare at the screen and listen to the dog
and ignore my ringing phone.

Journey is calling. I don’t need to
check to know she’s wondering where in the hell I am. Even with the worsening
weather, she expects me to show. She’ll get the message soon enough that I’m
not coming. Talking to her will likely only make matters worse.

Kicking off my shoes, I notice a light
drizzle outside. I assure myself the barbecue would have been a bust. Journey
is probably relieved to get out of it. Not that she’ll admit such a thing. The
woman is more stubborn than a mule.

I feel muggy in the house, but I don’t
get up to turn down the heater. No, if I get up from the couch, I’ll need to
answer the phone and face Journey’s wrath.

After tugging off my shirt, I lean back
on the couch and put my bare feet on the coffee table.

My life in this house is comfortable.
When Journey is here, I’m on edge, but I never want her to leave. She seems to
feel the same way about me. We’re good together but just as content apart. That
might be healthy for a couple, but I sense it makes us odd.

Court and Justice spend every free
fucking minute together. Glued at the hip might work for them, but I need space
and quiet. I work a lot. Spending the day with Becca’s kids and Journey’s loud
sisters isn’t my idea of relaxing.

I realize I never intended to go to the
barbecue. I’d tried the family crap with the Mooneys. They’d been as rude as I
expected. Journey blew it off, but I’d seen our future, and it wasn’t pretty.

The phone stops ringing after a half
hour of me ignoring it. The ball is in Journey’s court now. She can rage at her
place with her family supporting her every angry dig at my manhood. Or she can
show up at my place and call me an asshole to my face.

Feeling particularly optimistic, I
picture the Earlham women taking turns sticking pins in a Donovan voodoo doll.
The more realistic side of me knows Journey won’t choose such a passive path.
She’s likely already on her way here to force a reckoning.

Journey

A
rainy mist hangs in the air by the
time I arrive at Donovan’s brick ranch. I’m relieved for the bad weather since
it’ll keep the nosey neighbors from watching me kick his ass. I’m so pissed
that I nearly forget to put the car into park before opening the door.

Taking a deep breath, I get myself
under control before finally stepping out of the SUV. Donovan’s Jeep sits in
the driveway, mocking me. He isn’t off somewhere else, busy with work or having
an emergency. No, he’s right fricking here and perfectly capable of having a
meal with my family.

I bang at his door until I can’t feel
my hand. Switching from my right fist to my left, I pound harder. I know he’s
inside. Unless he’s fallen and can’t get up, he owes me an explanation, an
apology, and a chance to kick his ass.
Not necessarily in that order.

My hands throb by the time Donovan
answers the door wearing only jeans. I study him to ensure he isn’t injured.
Drunk, sure, but he’s otherwise as healthy as an ox.

“Don’t just stare at me,” I nearly
scream before calming myself. “Where were you? Why didn’t you answer your
phone?”

“I didn’t want to come over, and I
figured you’d be pissed. I guess I was right.”

When I move to enter, Donovan closes
the door enough to block my way.

“I can’t talk to you right now,” he
says casually.

“I’d ask if you had another woman
inside, but I know you’d be way more fricking scared of seeing me if that was
the case.”

“I don’t want another woman, but I
can’t talk to you right now.”

“Can’t?” I demand.

“Fine. I won’t.”

Before I can get out another word,
Donovan shuts the fricking door and locks the bolt into place.

“Motherfricker!” I yell, kicking the
door.

Like an idiot, I wait for him to change
his mind. I don’t know how much times passes before my sanity and self-respect
force me to walk away.

Storming to my SUV, I want nothing more
than to drive home and enjoy my family’s coddling. I can imagine how much
happier I’d be with them rather than forcing this issue with Donovan.

Except if I don’t force it now, where
does that leave us? Are we over? Do I avoid him now? I can’t live in a state of
uncertainty, so I walk past my SUV and to his 6-foot wood fence. The gate is
locked, forcing me to climb the damn thing. With the rain, I struggle to get my
footing. After a few false starts, I drop over the side and walk to the back door.

Inside the house, Donovan sits on the
couch with Kitty. The dog hurries to the door when I open it.

“If you’re going to lock someone out,
make sure to get every door,” I tell Donovan who doesn’t move.

“I didn’t figure you’d jump the fence.
My mistake.”

I pet Kitty’s head and then maneuver
him outside. “I don’t want him getting in between me screaming at you.”

“Have at it.”

“Don’t you care at all, you fricking
frick?”

“You should probably full on cuss in
these situations.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, idiot. After
today, I hate you.”

“Then why are you here?”

Shocked by his indifference, I don’t
know what to say or do. He isn’t supposed to be like this. Donovan is a good
man, right? He said he loved me. It never occurred to me that he might be
lying. Had I been played? Or had he just gotten bored? I’d heard about men
doing that, but I never considered it happening with Donovan.

Thinking of him over here laughing at
my stupidity, I want to tear off his fricking handsome face. I want to beat him
until he’s a bloody mess. I want to rip apart his stupid, bland house and steal
his sad-eyed dog. I want to destroy everything he cares about and leave him
feeling as miserable as I do.

“Sonovabitch,” I growl, punching a hole
in his beige wall. “I’m not paying for that.”

Donovan stands up and walks to me a
little too quickly. Thinking he might attack me, I put up my fists up and
prepare to give him a taste of what I gave the wall.

“Easy,” he nearly whispers. “Let me see
your fist. Did you bust a knuckle?”

“Don’t touch me, queef sniffer.”

“I don’t know what a queef is, and you
refuse to tell me.”

“Have you never heard of a fricking
Google search, queef sniffer?”

“Let me get some ice for your hand.”

“I’m fine. Don’t touch me.”

“I’m not.”

“Well, don’t even think about it.”

“I can’t promise that. My mind is
always on you,” he says, walking to the kitchen.

“You somehow forgot to show up to lunch
with my family. You also somehow forgot to call me. Or to fricking answer the
fucking motherfucking phone, you fucker.”

“Cussing makes this easier.”

“What in the hell is wrong with you?”

“I’m drunk off my ass. You should give
it a try,” he says, offering me a beer bottle rather than ice. “Have a drink
and keep drinking until you’re in a solid state of drunk.”

“I don’t want to be drunk, you
asshole.”

“No, but it’ll help. When I started
drinking, I thought I was a huge asshole. Now I figure I’m more like an average
sized asshole. Booze takes the edge off the truth.”

“What truth?” I ask, setting the beer
on the counter.

“I’m not cut out to be in a human
relationship.”

“So only non-human relationships for
you, idiot?”

“Do you know how I get through the
family functions I go to? I put on my autopilot and coast through the entire
encounters. They say shit, and I nod. The reason that works is because they
don’t care if I’m paying attention. They’re happier if I sleepwalk through
everything with them.”

“Boo hoo. Your family sucks, but you
weren’t meeting with them. You were meeting with my family who doesn’t suck,” I
say and then mutter, “Asshole fucker.”

“That’s the point, Journey. Your family
will talk to me and want real responses. They’ll engage with me, and there’ll
be no sleepwalking. I don’t know how to have those kinds of conversations. I
never noticed before you, but I’m on autopilot every day with everyone. I can’t
deal with anything else. Fuck, I even have trouble showing you how much I love
you, and you’re you. I couldn’t deal with your family.”

“You’re so stupid,” I say, shaking my
hand. “Get me ice, queef sniffer.”

I think about his words while he
shuffles back into the kitchen. He returns with a towel filled with ice. Taking
it from him, I’m afraid to look at Donovan. His gaze hypnotizes me until I
believe whatever lies my ego tells me.

“Do you want out? Is that what this
thing is about?” I ask.

“I want you, but I don’t know what to
do now that I have you. I spent months thinking about the first part and never
considered what would happen if I actually won you over.”

“If you didn’t want out, here are a few
suggestions your stupid fricking queef loving brain never considered,” I say,
sitting on the floor and leaning against the wall. “You could have told me how
you fricking felt, and I’d have run interference for you at the barbecue. You
could have told me and we could have canceled the barbecue. Or you could have
not shown up and pissed me off, but fricking called to tell me why. Or even, I
don’t know, answered the fricking phone when I called or answered when I
knocked at your damn door. Instead, you blew me off, so I don’t believe you want
to keep me. I think you want out, but you’re too big of a pussy to admit it.”

“Don’t cry,” he whispers, brushing a
tear from my cheek.

“You’re breaking my heart. I’m chasing
a man who keeps running. Whenever I catch you, I hear crap about how you want
me. Then I turn my back, and you run off again. It’s pathetic.”

“I don’t want this,” he whispers in a
slightly slurred voice. “I want you happy and with me. How do I make that
happen? When I try to make it happen, I freeze up and stay where I’m safe.
Kitty doesn’t judge me.”

“Sure, he does. He just can’t vocalize
his disappointment.”

“You’re probably right,” he says,
squatting down next to me and leaning against the wall. “I do love you,
Journey. You’re not the pathetic one. I am, but it’s not because I don’t care.
I just don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

“That’s a cop out because if you wanted
to know what the hell to do, you’d ask someone. It wouldn’t even need to be me.
Court could give you guy advice. Even the fricking dog would help if you just
asked. You didn’t though because you don’t want help.”

“Maybe it’d be easier to give up. I
don’t know. I don’t want to lose you. I just don’t know how to keep you. I
think I’ve got shit handled and then I panic. My life was comfortable before
you. Boring, lonely, pointless, but it was also easy.”

I hold the ice on my right hand and
think about leaving. We should end this crumbling romance. Neither of us knows
what we’re doing. I feel him slipping away, and I keep pulling him closer.
Why
prolong the inevitable?

“Is love enough?” I ask, fighting
tears.

“I don’t know. I hadn’t known how it’d
be when I saw you. I hadn’t been expecting anything out of life and then I saw
you and I wanted you. Now I have you, and I’m fucking things up.”

“Yes, you are.”

Donovan takes my bruised hand. “When I
know I’ve disappointed you, I don’t want to look at you. I can’t see that look
in your eyes. It makes me a damn coward, sure, but you’ve got the power to tear
me up, so I avoid you. I thought I could shut you out. I should have known you
wouldn’t go away without a fight.”

Exhaling, my rage fades. I’m left
exhausted and uncertain. Kicking Donovan’s ass is no longer an option. I only
want him to say something perfect like men sometimes say. I want him to help me
forgive him and forget about today. I want lies, but Donovan won’t bullshit me.
He’s too drunk not to be heartbreakingly honest.

“Tell me what you want me to do,” I
finally say after crying a little and finding tears no substitute for facing
the problem.

“I need you to put up with my shit
until I figure out how to be the man you need. That’s not a decent, honorable
answer. It’s not fair to ask you to wait even if I love you. The thing is I
need you to stay, and the cowardly truth is the only way you might give me
another chance.”

Maybe the booze explains why his voice
cracks when he says he loves me. Or maybe he’s a man begging for his life.
Either way, I choose to believe he loves me, and we’ll somehow make our jagged
edges fit together just right.