Page 12 of Quiet Chaos

There’s something in the sleeve of my shirt. I take out a couple of twenty-dollar bills. My hero must have tucked it into the shirt. Or maybe it was by accident. I slink into the convenience store to buy a sandwich, bag of chips, and a water. The sun is moving away. Soon, nightfall will arrive, and I’ll have to find a place to sleep. For now, I lay my head on my knees, close my eyes, and mouth the wordsplease God, save me. Sleep takes over.

I wake to the sound of a motorcycle, and a setting sun. Footsteps come toward me, and I push myself up, fearing it’s Christoff. When I round the corner of the building, I bounce off something hard and catch my balance on the wall. It’s him, my savior.

He tilts his head to the side and asks, “What are you still doing here?”

I swallow to give myself time to think. He doesn’t ask again, just looks at me.

“I…I was waiting for my boyfriend.”

It’s a lie and the way he crosses his arms over his chest, giving me a look to continue, shows he’s aware of it. I glance around at people filling their tanks and going inside to pay.

Letting out a sigh, I say, “I better get going.”

When I take a step forward, he sidesteps in front of me, muscles protruding from his short-sleeve shirt. If Christoff could do the damage he has done, I can’t imagine what this man can do. I don’t want to anger him.

I stare at my feet, a tear dropping on my shoe. “Please, I don’t want any trouble. What do you need?”

In a slow, cautious move, his hand lifts my chin, and I flinch. His eyes lock on mine, then veer away to inspect my injuries. My breath hitches. His eyes are captivating. The blue color isn’t what’s intriguing. It’s the pattern, like broken lake ice. I twist and turn my hands together while I shift my weight from side to side.

I’m staring and thinking about how beautiful he is that I almost didn’t catch him say, “Do you need a ride?”

I shake my head for a moment to dispel the trance, except his voice triggers something else inside me. My eyes move to his broad torso. “Um, no thank you. You’ve helped me enough.” My head bows. “Thank you for the shirt and money. I appreciate it.” He releases a frustrated sigh.

I don’t want him mad, so I decide to be honest. While I tell him a part of what happened, I stare at the gas pumps to avoid his gaze and body. “My boyfriend and I got into a fight.” I cover my midsection with my arms. “I don’t think he’s coming back.” He keeps staring. “He has everything of mine.” Still quiet. “I’ll go sleep in the park.”

“Cops will kick you out.” His voice, thick and rich like dark chocolate, forces me to look at him again, and I fall into a daze when I see his eyes.

Before it registers, he tells me to follow him, and my feet obey. We stop next to a motorcycle.

“I have extra rooms. You can stay until you get your stuff.”

If I go, I’ll be sinning again, and I don’t even know what the sin would be this time. I’m in this situation because of all the choices I’ve made. My reckless decisions have given me a black eye, a bloody nose, and not a thing to my name. I glance around while biting my lower lip. I’m so lost. Do I stay or go? Christoff will get me if I stay. He’ll use me for money and destroy whatever’s left of me. My fingers tug at the ends of my hair. I could leave and wind up in the same situation. The thing is, thisman’s not even pushing the issue, and for whatever reason, I don’t feel fear.

While I battle over sins, he stands, watches me, and waits for a response. There’s something about him that is calming my nerves. I should flee from this bulk of a man and his mesmerizing eyes. But he’s a salve to my injuries and pain. I run the cross over the length of the necklace and internally ask God’s forgiveness.

6

“A whiskey glass and a woman’s ass are the downfall of many a good man.” Rick Chapman

Cade - September 2019

It takes a month for me to go through dad’s things. Since his death, I haven’t shed a tear. Not one. What kind of son doesn’t mourn his own father’s death? To rid the guilt, I argue the fact that my dad left a long time ago, and a premature death was imminent. The idea makes me feel like shit.

There’s a club meeting in an hour, so I head over to the gas station to fill up. After I pay, I hear a woman scream and cry. Some disgusting pig of a trucker is grabbing at a tiny woman. I tell him to let her go, but the dick wants to show dominance. Sweat streaks down his bloated face as he looks at my stature and swallows hard before challenging me. The fucker doesn’t relent. One swift punch, and he’s down for the count. Her sobs and screams cease. Since no one bothered to help her, they’re not about to get involved with a biker. With only thirty-minutes left before the meeting, I give her the extra shirt I keep in my saddlebag and tuck money in it before I go, assuming she’ll be fine.

I call the meeting to order, but my mind isn’t all there. Thoughts drift to the woman. I paid little attention to her because of the altercation and being short on time. I recall seeing blood, yet I wasn’t sure where she was bleeding.

The meeting lasts an hour. I decide to drive back to the gas station. Hopefully, she’ll be gone. At least, my conscience is assuming if she’s not there, someone came for her. When I approach the corner of the building, she collides into me. I ask her what she’s still doing there, and she lies.

I lift her head to inspect her face, and she winces. She has a black eye and there’s blood under her nose and mouth. What catches my attention are her eyes. Accented by arched brows and lush lashes, she has almond-shaped, amber-colored eyes. They’re hypnotizing. I glance down and notice the blood on her jeans. If her eyes weren’t enough to cause an unwanted affect to my body, her voice comes out like a harp. It’s soft and calming.

I clear my throat and have her follow me to the bike. “I have extra rooms. You can stay until you get your stuff.”

It’s a good thing I’m a patient man. I can see by the way she bites her lip, eyes wandering around. Her internal battle is going to take a while. To pass the time, my eyes wander down her tiny, delicate body, rising back to her face. Even with all the blood, it’s hard not to notice her natural beauty.

She catches me off guard when she agrees. I had doubts she would want to stay at a stranger’s house, so my guess is she’s desperate and has nowhere else to go. I hand her the helmet. Her confused look has me putting on the monstrous thing over her head, which gets buried in it.

I get on the bike and say, “Get behind me and hold on.”

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