Page 21 of Ruthless Son

I leaned over and grabbed her a towel, chucking it at her. She caught it between both hands, a confused look on her face. “Clean yourself up and get out.” I climbed off the bed, leaving her to show herself out, and walked into the en-suite, closing the door between us. I needed a shower, and sleep.

Then tomorrow, I would restart my search for Mickey and give him a taste of his own medicine.

Mia

I woke to pounding on the door, in my sleep-addled brain I’d thought it was Mickey coming back to finish the job he’d started yesterday. My heart thudded in my chest as I scanned the room looking for something to use as a weapon, but nothing jumped out at me that screamed ‘I can hurt you back’. Perhaps the hairdryer might keep him at bay until someone gets here.

The banging started again, and I eased over quietly to peek through the window at my morning interloper. The sun hit my eyes, and I squinted at the figure outside who definitely wasn’t Mickey.

The old lady was hunched over, a cane in her hand was being used to make all the racket as she banged the end over and over on my door.

I kept the hairdryer in my hand as I opened the door, she may look frail, but looks could be deceiving and I had no idea who she was and why she was disturbing me.

“Well it’s about damned time.” She moved past me quicker than I expected someone like her could move, practically shoving me out of the way in the process.

“Uhhhh, hello?”

“Well you don’t seem as eloquent as your sister.” Her wrinkled hands picked at my toiletries placed on the desk. “Why’d it take you so long to answer anyway.”

Her shrewd eyes looked my semi-naked state up and down, and I just realized that I was still in a vest and my underwear. “Um, let me just…” I dashed into the bathroom, grabbing my clothes as I went, determined to put a barrier between me and this crazy old lady.

“You youngins always sleeping the day away. I’ve been up and out for hours already,” her voice called through the door as I struggled to get my leggings on, hopping on one foot to pull the fabric up.

As I stepped out, she cast her cold eyes over me, reading the slogan across the material. She huffed and sat on the unmade bed, her cane held between arthritic hands. It was only when I looked down I realized I had chucked on my gag-gift that I was given for the staff Secret Santa two years ago which read ‘I’m not a gynecologist, but I can take a look’. Which had been hilarious at the time because I was a nurse, a joke amongst colleagues. Normally it was a sleepshirt, and in my haste I’d just grabbed the first thing at hand. I guess the joke was now on her for waking me up so early.

My phone read 8 a.m., God I hadn’t got to sleep until gone two as my thoughts had raced with visions of Rex outside the diner. I’d felt his hand around my neck like a brand for hours, and I’d tossed and turned for ages considering whether I should get the edge off or not, but it felt like a cop out. The release wouldn’t be as satisfying, and so I’d finally fallen into a restless sleep.

“It’s so early, you made it sound like I’d slept the day away,” I told the old woman, crossing my arms and glaring at her sitting so demurely on my bed.

“Well, if you’d been up earlier, I wouldn’t have been able to wake you up now, would I!”

“I don’t even know who you are.” Frustration laced my tone, but I kept my voice low as I didn’t want her having a heart attack in my room. I was already having to go to the hospital later to see Millie, I didn’t need this woman on my conscience too.

“Millie said you was an early riser, so I just assumed?—”

I sighed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “You’re Margot.” The woman that my sister worked for.

“You’re just as smart as she said you were,” she cackled. Leaning into her walking stick she heaved herself up, before walking toward the door. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Go where?” Even though I questioned her, I still found myself slipping my shoes on, grabbing my bag and room key and followed behind her.

“You don’t know much do you.” I jerked at her constant jabs. It seemed in the space of ten minutes, I’ve been labeled lazy and dumb.

She walked quickly, and I matched her stride as she led me down the street that was just getting ready to open for the day. The diner, its strong coffee smell teasing my half-asleep senses was already open and had a few people already seated. Shining black and chrome bikes lined the parking lot and I craned my neck to see if Rex was one of the bikers seated at the tables.

“You’ll break your neck doing that,” she called over her shoulder, before dodging a passerby and nodding her head in greeting as they passed.

“Doing what?” Everyone we walked by offered her a good morning, until she stopped at a little door, pulling a bunch of keys from her pocket and opened up, switching lights on as she went. The heavy floral scent hit me as soon as I walked in, the rows and rows of bunches of all flowers lined the walls in their buckets of water. A table covered in stems, petals and all manner of cutting tools sat in the center of the shop, and I watched her circle it to reach the exit at the back, before stepping back in with aprons. One she was slowly looping over her own head.

“You should stay far from them motorcycle boys, trouble they are.” She held out the second apron which I left hanging from her fingers between us. “Go on, put it on.”

“Firstly, I kill everything green so probably not a good idea I do that. Secondly, I have nothing to do with the motorcycle club, Jenna just helped me out with a problem at the hospital, that’s all.”

“Tut. Stop lying to yourself, girly. Now put the apron on and help me. My hands ain’t as good as they used to be.” She chucked it at me, the strings flying around my face.

“Did you say the same thing to my sister about Mickey?” I clutched the material in my hand. The old woman was so intent on giving me life advice that I didn’t ask for, and felt the need to dictate my day when I had an injured sister to get to.

“Pfft, of course I did. That boy is a whole different kettle of fish.” She pottered about the shop, grabbing long stems from buckets and laying them in piles. “I’ll tell you what I told her, you lay down with dogs, you get fleas.” Picking up a pair of shears, she held them out to me, handle toward me. “Now, I spoke to your sister when I visited her yesterday evening, and before you ask, it wasn’t visiting hours because I can go whenever I damn well like, and she told me you’d help little old me in the shop while she’s out of commission.”

---