Page 67 of Ordinary Girl

“Skip can go where he likes. He can do what he wants. And I truly believe that he loved my mama, I do, I believe that. Now. But he has no say in what I do with the rest of my life.”

“He cares about you, that’s all.”

“And I’m grateful to him for that. But that doesn’t give him the right to decide what I do with my life, I’m done with that shit. I did as I was told in the beginning because I was scared. I was grieving. I didn’t know anything about this club or this life. This world. But now? I know enough to be able to make my own mind up about things. You can’t keep me prisoner anymore, Joel. I don’t need babysitting, I don’t need to prove to you or anyone else that you can trust me. I’m not going anywhere, okay? And I’m not going anywhere because I want to be withyou.”

I look into her eyes, and I believe every word she’s telling me. “I’m not the kind of man you should be with, Ana.”

“That’s my decision to make.”

“I’m not a good person.”

“I think you are.”

“You could get hurt, if you stay here. Maybe Skip’s right…”

“Again, what I do, where I live, who I spend my time with, that’smydecision. Not yours. Not Skip’s. Mine.”

“You can’t tell him we’re together, Ana.”

She narrows her eyes: tilts her head. “The one thing I never thought you were was weak, Joel.”

“Jesus Christ…” I can’t stop the hollow laugh from escaping. “I’m not fucking weak.”

“Then we tell him we’re together. We tell him I’m going nowhere.”

“He’ll kill me.”

“Oh, come on! This macho, ego-driven, testosterone-fuelled, fucked up life you all lead, it’s ridiculous!”

Is she fucking kidding me…?

“Stand up to him! Put yourself first, it isn’t a fucking crime.”

I’ve never heard her speak like this before. Never seen her so determined. So angry.

“I hated this place, when I was forced to be here. But now I’m making a choice, Joel. And that’s because of you, not becausethis world fascinates me, because it did. For a while. Before my mama got caught up in it. Before I was forced to face up to the fact I was going to be living in it. I had this stupid idea that men like you were wild and dangerous and everything I thought I wanted. I thought this world and the people in it, I thought it was exciting. I was wrong. I loved the idea of it, all of it: the life, the men, the world, and it’s nothing like my fantasy filled ideals imagined it would be. The reality is very different. But you’re in this world, and I’m choosing to stay here because of you. I’m choosing to live this life becauseyou’rein it.”

“If Skip leaves: if I’m the new President, it makes everything that little bit more dangerous, Ana.”

“Do you want to be with me, Joel?”

“Did you hear what I just–?”

“Do you want to be with me?”

Our eyes are locked. Her expression calm. Unwavering. She’s forcing me to tell her the truth. “Yes. I want to be with you.”

She shrugs and pulls herself to her feet. “Then there’s nothing more to talk about. Is there?”

She goes inside, and I’m not sure it’s all quite as done and dusted as she thinks it might be, there are loose ends all over the place. Telling Skip the truth: facing up to him, it isn’t quite as simple as she might think it is, but when all’s said and done, she’s killing me. And if facing Skip is what I have to do to be with her, then I’ll fucking die trying…

Twenty-Eight

Ana

Mama always used to tell me that, at times, I’d engage my mouth before I put my brain into gear: speak before I’d had time to think. Not often, but sometimes. Everything I’d said to Joel the other day, was that one of those times? Maybe. Maybe not. But it needed saying. I’m tired of pretending shit isn’t happening when it’s almost constant now. He touches me and I shiver. One kiss from him and my head spins. When we fucked it was like nothing I’ve ever felt before, he’s changing me. And I like that that’s happening. I like that this new me is out and living this life I didn’t choose but am slowly getting used to. But I do have choices. They told me I had none, once upon a time, but they were wrong. Nobody has come for me. Nobody has, to my knowledge, tried to kill me. But, at the same time, nobody here has sought to seek any kind of retribution for what happened to my mama. And the old me, she didn’t fight hard enough to make sure that retribution happened, because the old me was confused and scared: she didn’t have a loud enough voice. The new me is a very different woman.

“Where’s Skip?” I ask Kit, who’s leaning against the doorpost of the open clubhouse door, smoking a joint.

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