Page 4 of Possessing Her

“Matthew, you got this in case things escalate?” I hear Asher join is as I take another step closer to my past. The car still looks like it’s in decent condition. Winnie never was one for the flash of a vehicle. She looked at material things as just that. Plus, theway she told it, she only drove to and from work. The rest of the places she needed to get to, she could walk, or she’d ride with me.

“You know that won’t happen, not from Win.” I wince at Matthew’s words because he’s right. The same might not be said for myself when it comes to Winnifred “Winnie” Marie Keen Gonzales. She dropped her maiden name shortly after our honeymoon. There were times she thought about changing her first name, except it’s a family name from a time in her life when things were better.

“I’m sorry to, uh, barge in. I just need you to sign these.” My wife’s first words to me after years of going radio silent are to ask me to sign what looks like several sheets of paper.

“Son of a bitch.” Crew puts two and two together at the same time I do.

“Got this, guys. Head back inside.” I look at Winnie, really look, then crook my head to the side and watch as she shrinks further into herself. The clothes she’s wearing are two sizes too big, her hair is hanging limp against her head, and her coloring is off.

“Think it’s better to stay,” Jude says, putting in his two cents for the first time.

Winnie flinches; she’s probably worried about the guys potentially ganging up on her, asking her the questions that have plagued my mind for more years than I care to admit. I tried moving on, dated a few women, messed with a couple, and not a single one of them could fill the void my wife created.

“I won’t take much of your time. Please, Johnny, sign the papers. We should have done this a long time ago. It’s time.” Winnie blinks her eyes. The usually bright blue is dull, like the light has gone out inside of her.

“We’re good. Head back to the party. Briar’s inside, and I don’t want her worrying about this after what just went down,sí?” I turn, giving Winnie my back. Maybe if I reassure them, they’ll do as I ask. Which is why I make sure I’m rock fucking solid. I keep my limbs loose and my expression blank. One by one, they give me a nod, then slowly head toward Lennon, Kennedy, and Briar. I wait a beat, making sure they’re out of earshot, until one by one, they make it inside the house. I can hear the quiet whispering and figure now is as good a time as ever.

“Here. I’m not asking for anything. I mean, the car is already paid off, and if you want me to sell that and take half the profit, that’s fine, too. I just really need you to sign these papers, Johnny.” She pushes them at me yet again, pressing them against my bare chest. I can feel the pressure coming from her between the thick pages.

“Why are you pushing this, after all these years? It’s been a long-as-hell time, esposa. A few more days won’t hurt you.” Winnie closes her eyes for a beat, and it makes me notice a lot of shit I do not fucking like. When she opens her eyes, she rolls her shoulders and lets go of the papers. In doing so, they fall to the ground, and if I had a match, I’d light them and watch ‘em fucking burn until nothing but ashes were left. The shirt she’s wearing moves to hang off her shoulder.

Jesús Cristo.

Winnie has always been tiny, smaller in stature. She’d complain about her weight here and there until I told her I loved her, all of her. Her smile, her eyes, her tits, that buddha-style belly she has, or had, really, her ass, and definitely her legs. She’s got great fucking legs. Though, what I can see now, her clavicle sticking out as much as it is, there’s something else going on.

“Johnny, I can’t do this. There isn’t enough time. I’m not asking for much, just your signature. Can’t you do that for me, please?” She wrings her hands together, and my gaze zeroes inon the nervous habit. It’s also then I notice my rings are still on her finger.

“Give me a reason why.” I put my hands in my pockets. She doesn’t see that my thick platinum ring is still on my finger as well. The guys asked why I still wore it. Asher told me it was time to move on. Tysen looked at the band, then at me, shrugged his shoulders, and walked away. Trent told me to figure out what I wanted, and if that was him nosing around on the police data base, he’d do it. Matthew offered to draw up the papers even though he doesn’t specialize in family law. Jude mumbled something beneath his breath about how I was a dumb ass, but he’s there if I needed him. Crew started listing pros and cons of staying married. A lot of it had to do with the money being a sticky situation when Night Moves is as profitable as it is. Then there was Jagger, who told me the band on my left hand would be a pussy magnet. He also said it with a sneer. Jagger’s fondness for my wife hasn’t dwindled.

“Johnny, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.” I put my hands on my hips, slide my foot until it’s on top of the stack that fell to the ground. I may not sign the divorce papers, but I’m damn sure going to look at them.

“I can’t, I’m sorry. Sorrier than you’ll ever know. My number is on the paper. Please sign them. I’ll meet with you to pick them up, and then we’ll be done. This time forever.” Winnie turns away from me, taking a step closer to her car, and I’m trying to get my body to move.

“Are you wearing my ring while you’re with another man, Winnie?” My mouth gets away from me. There’s only one reason she’d come back years later without her sister in tow.

“Don’t go there. You can’t condemn me for something you’ve done, too. Which, by the way, there isn’t a man; I’m just putting our past to rest. I should have done it before walking away. Sign the papers, call me, and move on.” There’s a hitch in her voice,and when she walks away, I let her. Like a goddamn coward, my wife leaves me. I stand stone-cold sober, watching as she gets in her car, a car we purchased together. One where she bitched and moaned that it was too much money, too many bells and whistles, when it’s really only a step or two above the basic model. As it is, the four-door black sedan isn’t anything to sneeze at, and it’s also one that will last her till the wheels fall off while keeping her safe. The argument we had over me paying cash for it instead of Winnie financing it was worth it for the make-up sex alone.

“Cono, soy un tremendo estupido.”Fuck, I’m so stupid.I stay where I’m at, near the edge of the grass, watching until the last I see of my wife is her taillights. Only then do I bend down, pick up the stack of papers, and start leafing through them. I couldn’t give a damn about what she does or doesn’t want. I’ve spent years without her, became a workaholic and an all-around asshole, and look where it’s got me. A pile of money without a lick of fucking happiness.

I do a quick scan of the papers, finding what I’m looking for—her phone number. Winnie Gonzales doesn’t know it yet, but this time, I’m going after her, and I’m not letting her leave me, not ever again.

“You alright?” Trent asks. It’s then I notice he’s got Briar in his arm while the other is wrapped around Kennedy.

“I will be. You?” He lifts his head, acknowledging we’ll talk about it later. “Catch you later,” I tell him as he walks across the lawn to Kennedy’s place, which is really Lennon’s. She rents it to Asher’s sister; something tells me that will be changing soon enough.

“Sure will,” Trent replies.

“Later, Johnny.” Kenny sends me a finger wave. With that out of the way, I head into Asher’s. I’m going to grab my shirt,shoes, and keys, then I’ll head to the apartment, have a tall fucking drink, and do some research on where Winnie is staying.

3

WINNIE

Italked a big game to myself, to Isla and Santiago, and to whatever room I was in that I’d be okay seeing Johnny for the first time. I wasn’t prepared. I don’t think I ever will be. He looks great. No, he looks amazing. Somehow, he’s managed to fill out more in the muscle department, his hair is a bit longer with those dark loose curls, his skin is tanned from his Cuban heritage and a lot of sun because anytime he’s outside, his shirt is off. Which led me to seeing even more of him that I thought possible. A pair of black swim trunks hung low on his hips, the length meeting midthigh, and showed off every bit of him, including his tattoos, like our anniversary date in Roman numerals wrapped around his thigh. I figured by now, he’d have it covered up, but there it was, on full display. The others would be hard to cover up considering he didn’t have a shirt on. The half sleeve he carries on both arms as well as a chest piece all portrayed sentimental meanings to him.

When he’s wearing his work clothes, a three-piece suit, completely buttoned, no one would be the wiser in knowing a lot of his body is marked with intricate ink. Then there are days like today, when he’s out in the open with his friends, hangingaround the pool without a care in the world. Then there were our days, lazy Sunday mornings, him in nothing but a pair of jeans, walking around the apartment barefoot, while I was in one of his discarded shirts, the two of us locked away from the outside world.

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