Page 30 of The Love You Hate
The urge to hug her rises, because this seems so final. The last chapter of one book closing, and another beginning, but I push the urge down and make my way to the door. A lump in my throat causes me to breathe deeply and rapidly. Then I catch sight of myself in the mirror, Helen Cohen’s hand print, bright red, and perfectly outlined embedded on my cheek. Fitting that this would be the last thing she gave me. Glancing behind me, I look at my mother, also a victim, one more time. She deserves whatever comes her way if for only the reason she never questioned my father. I was a child, naïve and held at a distance. My mother could have been stronger, craftier in her ways to uncover truths that were staring her in the face. In the end, she just didn’t care, and the price was high.
She just didn’t care. I close the door and follow the guard down the hall and up the stairs to the helo pad. It’s idling, kicking up a strong wind in all directions. That ride is the first time I let myself cry. It was then that it felt I had lost…everything.
****
Nate calls out, and I realize belatedly it isn’t the first time. I leave the bathroom, and the reflection of my red, marred face. “Sorry, I was trying to clean my face up.”
“How do you want your steak?” He thumbs over his shoulder at the open door, where the grill is sizzling and popping.
“However you’re having yours,” I respond, nudging him out of the way so I can go outside. Leaning over the balcony,I eye the garden we did today and smile. I take a deep breath and try to calm my nerves. Thinking about my past, especially my mother, drags up old emotions. They took everything else, why couldn’t they take the damn emotional baggage too? Nate flips the steaks; I hear the grill hiss on contact of the raw meat. I turn and admire his back. His neck is thick and his hips are narrow. I noticed at the bakery, but here with the sun highlighting him, his presence is even more overwhelming. I can’t help imagining what he looks like without any clothing. “You’re right, Nate.”
He turns to look at me over his shoulder. “Shocking sentiment, but I need more to go on. What am I right about?”
“Roller derby will be too dangerous. I’m not going to join the team.”
Nate laughs. “The smashed-up face really give you a stern talking to?”
I groan. “Kind of. Not really. I just came up with something better to take its place on the redo bucket list.”
He turns all the way around to face me, tongs in one hand and a sardonic expression washing across his face. “Oh, I can’t wait to hear this.”
“Spankies. Up the mountain? They’re holding auditions, and I’m going to try out.”
His eyes wide. “The strip club? Wait, why?”
I shrug. “I’ve always wanted to and wasn’t allowed to do anything that scandalous before…Gold Hawke. I like the whole naked in a public place thing.”
He licks his lips and the set of his jaw tightens. “I’d like to think you’re joking, but you’re serious. Aren’t you? That place is gross, and I really didn’t take you for someone with daddy issues.”
“That’s awful judgmental. Not all strippers have daddy issues. Plus, I said I want to try out. Who knows if they’ll hire me.”
He scoffs as his anger rises. “Of course, they’ll hire you. They hire everyone.” He motions to my body. “Why wouldn’t they hire you?”
His rage is confusing. “Nate. It’s on my bucket list. It’s not something I’ve aspired to do my whole life. I want it as an experience. I figured as my friend; you’d be supportive.”
He laughs meanly as he tosses the steaks on a clean plate and brings them inside. “Dinner is done. I need a second,” he says. “Everything you need to eat is on the counter.” He breathes deeply a few times. “And no. I’m not supportive. That club is disgusting. That’s what it’s known for. A woman was robbed in the parking lot two weeks ago. Supportive is roller skating or taking a hike. Fucking insanity is letting strangers grope your naked body. If it’s voyeurism you’re after, you should get a little more creative.” I can tell he wants to say something else, but leaves the room instead. The door to the guest room slams, and I startle.
Annoyance is what I expected. This is something a little stronger than that. There are two plates and silverware laid out on the counter. I take one steak, sit down at the lonely table and inhale it because I’m starving. This isn’t how I imagined the day ending, in fact, now I’m stuck here without a car. Nate has to drive me home, and with the amount of time he’s been in the room, I doubt he’s exiting anytime soon. It’s a quick walk, and I know there’s a jogging path that connects to the one down on my road. Darkness isn’t ideal, but I’d rather take my chances than interrupt whatever Nate is doing in the mood he’s in.
I slip out of the side door quietly, and make my way down the dark street. Because it’s rural and there aren’t any other houses around, nor are there anystreetlights,it is darker than I thought it would be. I didn’t take that into consideration, and my stomach turns when a stick snaps from beside me in the woods. Squinting my eyes at the tree line, I search for the break where the trail begins. A burst of cool wind whips my hair and another stick cracks from behind me this time.Jog, Presley. Or even run,I think. My face throbs as I pick up my pace, but I decide against going into the woods for fear I wouldn’t make it out on the other side. The dirty road is rocky, but my footing is steady. My face can’t take another fall today. I cut a right-hand turn, and I’m certain someone is following, keeping their form hidden in the dense trees. I pick up the pace when I see the lights of my street, where it actually seems more civilized because there are a few raggedy lamp posts that flicker. In the distance I see a car pulling away from a trailer, but can’t tell which trailer it’s leaving. It drives off in the opposite direction, the same way I’m running. Was it beige? I’m still too far away to know if it was at my house.
My heart pounding, because now I’m running quickly,andI’m terrified, I forget why I’m out here in darkness in the first place. Then the reason doesn’t matter at all. A woman, who would be a worthy opponent for Ratchet Ryleigh stumbles out of the woods with a sawed-off shotgun in her hand. She’s aiming it directly at me as I abruptly halt in place.
I put my hands up, as my whole body shakes. “Yer fuckin’ my man,” she slurs, wiping sweaty bangs off her face. “I saw it.”
If I was good under pressure, I’d try to remember who this woman is, because I must know. She’s on my road and this is Gold Hawke, Colorado. I open my mouth to reply as she inches closer. “I can assure you; I am not fucking anyone and not for lack of trying,” I reply, voice trembling. “You have me… have me… confused with someone else.”
“There’s only one new bitch in town, Cohen.”
I swallow hard and nearly choke. A lone gunshot rips through the silence of night.
