Page 68 of Panther's Magpie
The only thing missing is decorations. Sure, he has a couch and recliner along with a table that looks like it’s seen better days, but there is no personality in the place beyond the workmanship it took to build it.
That makes me sad when I look at it. There aren’t pictures of him and Aspen around, nor are there pictures of him with his brothers. It’s depressing.
Maybe I’m thinking too much about it. Maybe he prefers it this way.
Still, as I wander around his home, it reminds me of the one I grew up in. A big, opulent home with no signs of life beyond the occasional unmade bed or dirty dish in the sink. I know many of the maids and other workers in the home spent more time inside the walls than my own parents did.
Maybe that’s why this place feels so empty to me. I grew up without pictures on the walls. I don’t even have any photos of me as a baby or child. Nothing to mark my growing up and moving onto another stage of life. Even my graduation was overshadowed by yet another trip to Milan.
I should be grateful. They never hit me. I always had food, clothes, and a roof over my head. Yet in some ways, I feel like my abuse was worse. At least if they hit me, I would invoke some kind of emotion in them. They would know I exist.
Instead, my parents practically forgot about me. Like some pet left at home when they went on vacation.
That’s not true. Fluffy, my mother’s dog when I was growing up, was allowed to go on vacation with them. He sat proudly in her little purse in every photo.
My heart aches at the memory. At the loneliness.
Not wanting to dwell on it, I decide I will make this place a little more like home for Panther. Nothing major, but something that will make it feel a little more lived in.
Picking up my phone, I smile when I see it’s charged. I didn’t even notice him putting it on the charger last night.
I dial Rain, waiting for her to answer.
“Hey girl. What’s up?”
I smile. “Are you busy right now?”
“Not really. Why? Are you breaking out of your jail?” she asks, sounding too excited.
“No. I don’t want to go against what Panther says. If he thinks it’s not safe out there for me, then I would rather stay here.”
“Ooh. Doing what the big bad biker says now, huh? It’s okay. I’ll forgive you for not being a badass bitch,” she teases.
“Hey,” I protest.
“Kidding. What do you need help with?” she asks.
“Can you stop by a store and grab me a few things? I’ll pay you back,” I tell her.
“Sure. Whatcha need?”
I love how willing she is to do what I ask without question. It makes me feel like I may have found another friend.
“Three throw pillows. Two white, one navy blue.” I look around the living room some more. “A throw blanket that is fuzzy and a cream color, I think.” I think about Panther’s large stature. “Make it extra large. Oh, and some candles. I’m thinking nature-smelling, like freshly cut pine or something.”
“That is all oddly specific. I am intrigued. Anything else?”
I walk into the kitchen, looking into the fridge. “If I text you a grocery list, can you pick that up too?”
“Of course. I can be there in like two hours, including the stops,” she tells me.
“Wait, can you, um, bring it to Panther’s house? Do you know where that is?”
“Excuse me, bitch says what? Are you in Panther’s house as we speak? Way to bury the fucking lead.”
I wince. I don’t know if he wants people to know I’m here. Honestly, I wondered if he brought all his dates back here before. Maybe that’s what I’m coming off as. Some girl who slept with Panther. Am I doing too much?
“You know what. This is a bad idea. Forget it,” I hurry to say.
