Page 37 of Diesel
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Ellie
Weeks went by. My belly was getting bigger. Reagan helped me shop online for some new clothes since we weren’t allowed out of the compound for whatever reason. I was still in the dark about a lot of things when it came to the club, but I simply learned to accept it, knowing that it was for the best. For the safety of the people inside of these walls.
Grass and I had become regular sandwich making buddies. Every day around noon he would come find me and we would figure out what kind we were going to make. We usually ended up making a whole boatload. Because once word got around about our little thing, the guys would show up out of nowhere wanting one. They always asked nicely, which was surprising to me.
I was really starting to like it in that crappy and overcrowded place. It was starting to feel more like a home and less like a little cell I was locked in. It helped that I was coming out of my shell and actually taking the time to get to know everyone. And really, I loved making them food. Even if it was just sandwiches. It brought a smile to their face, which brought one to mine.
I started to let my hair down a little more each day. However, Diesel’s distance hurt me a little more with each day that passed. He never said more than a word to me at a time, a word that usually came out like a grunt. I could always feel his eyes on me, which I think, hurt me the most. I didn’t realize it, but I had given him my heart in that motel room. Stupid as it may have been. Maybe not the whole thing. Maybe only a little tiny corner, but he still held it. And every day that little part was breaking and cracking more.
Everyone acknowledged the baby but steered clear of the topic of the baby’s father. I wasn’t sure if it was for me or because it was just such an awkward situation. Although I was sure I wasn’t the first person to be put in that position, it felt like I was.
When I wasn’t hanging out in the main areas or my room, which I was spending less time in than when I got there, I was outside. I had a little spot in the corner. I had an ugly but soft handmade blanket that I dragged out there with me. The weather only warmed up after noon and didn’t say that way for very long. I sat out there and read books I had on my phone and the few I brought with me. I let my mind relax and escape for a few hours every day. I think that was what helped me keep my sanity. It helped me from spiraling out.
Sometimes I would sit out there and watch the trees along the far end of the property. I would watch them sway with the breeze. I would watch the birds find the perfect branch to perch on. This was also when I would find myself talking to my belly and telling it everything I hoped for my little, growing baby.
Everything seemed to be going well. I was getting along with just about everyone. Except most of the club girls. It was like there were purposely trying to make me feel unwelcome.
Tammy, the leader of the mean club girls, as I had named them, started pushing me around not long after I came out of my hole. She told me that the women were supposed to cook and clean and basically take care of the men. I didn’t argue because that was what I knew how to do best. I knew how to take care of people. I knew how to cook and keep men happy with it. I knew how to clean until everything shined like new. And so I did, with a cheerful smile on my face. I shared the duties with the other women and club girls, so it wasn’t all that bad.
But I had to laugh when Brand, who I learned did tattoos, and Bocca came to me one night telling me that I didn’t have to do all of that. I simply told them that I didn’t mind and kept on my way. Truth be told, I kind of liked feeling like I was worth the trouble. It was my silent way of saying thanks and earning my keep.
However, every time Tammy or one of her mean girls snapped at me to do something, I felt anger rising up in me. I wasn’t used to feeling angry. For the most part, I was a docile, person-pleaser. But something about the way they treated me like I was less than them and a bother, grated on me on the inside.
