41. Monroe
FORTY-ONE
monroe
TEN MONTHS LATER
I tossed the pen onto my lilac bedspread, tired of studying for my world history exam next week. “Why the hell do I need to take history when I’m going into accounting?” I asked, glancing at Jade.
She laid, sprawled on her bed on the other side of our dorm room, the oversized Alabama State hoodie drowning her. The sound of heavy metal music from her headphones reached me even from here. She yanked one bud out and glanced at me. “Did you say something?”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t worry about it.”
“You should stay this weekend and come to Brandon’s party.” She lifted a brow, and I dropped my gaze to the book in my lap. “Dayton sucks.”
It did suck. Truthfully, I’d never go back there again if I didn’t have to. It was full of memories, and it wasn’t the bad ones I was hiding from. It was the good.
“And you know Brandon wants to see you.” She smirked. “You should totally date him. He’s hot.”
Part of me wanted to stay and go to the party—even though I hated parties. Maybe even date Brandon. I knew I needed to move on with my life, but I couldn’t. The thought had a sick feeling settling in my gut. I’d tried to forget about Zepp, but it wasn’t easy. It was like there were parts of me that were missing, and he was holding them hostage. The constant ache had faded over time, but still, it would flare up and catch me off guard when I least expected it.
A brief knock sounded on the door before it flew open, and Jonathan burst in, dragging a Louis Vuitton suitcase behind him. “I am so ready for some redneck luvin’.”
My gaze swept over him in his designer jeans and crisp, white, button-down shirt. The first day of my English class, I would have never pegged him as someone I would become friends with. He was from Upper Manhattan, and his family had more money than anyone at Barrington could have dreamed of. But, he grew on me. And I was pretty certain if I took him to Dayton, he might get himself killed. One catty remark to some redneck in Velma’s would be all it would take.
“Jonathan,” I said, giving him a once over. “Tell me again why you’d want to come to Dayton.”
“Girl.” He propped a hand on his hip before making some zig-zag snapping motion with his hands. “Having some real country boy to have a tumble in the hay bales with has always been my fantasy. I want me one of those down and dirty whorebags.”
“Trust me, you don’t,” Jade mumbled.
He was about to get the shock of his life.
“Oh, trust me. I do.” He waved a sassy finger in the air. “I waxed for this.”
“I…don’t even know what to say.” I pushed to my feet and tugged my shirt over my head. “You know this is going to be a bitter disappointment.”
He scowled, then took my bra strap and popped it. “No more of a disappointment than that brazier of yours. What kind of statement is this, anyway? It’s cotton for Christ’s sake.”
Jade snorted. “That she isn’t getting any action.”
Jonathan turned to Jade. “I got her one of those King Dong dildos for her birthday. She’s getting plenty of action.” He patted my back. “Isn’t that right, Moe Bear?”
I ignored him and pulled on a shirt. Then I shoved some clothes in a bag and my toothbrush. “Right. I’m ready.”
Jonathan touched a hand to his chest, pointing at my bag. “What’s that?” With a shake of his head, he opened my closet and rummaged through my belongings, criticizing everything I owned.”
I sank to the bed on a sigh. Once he started, there was no stopping him.
Jonathan repacked my bag three times before he let us leave. Forty minutes later, Jonathan turned his brand-new Mercedes into the trailer park. Most people would be ashamed of being seen in a shit car, but in Dayton, a shiny Mercedes just screamed Barrington, and that was never good. I wanted to crawl into the back seat.
Jonathan emerged from the car with a flare, swatting at the gnats buzzing around. He pulled his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose to look around. “This is way more redneck than you let on, honey. I feel like a man with a banjo is going to come out any minute.”
“This is as redneck as it gets.”
The second I breathed in the filthy Dayton air, I remembered why I avoided coming back here. I couldn’t help but glance at Wolf’s roof, like I expected to see Zepp up there, just hanging out on one of the ratty deck chairs. Of course, he wasn’t. I told myself I had come back here to check up on my mom, but if I was honest with myself, I chose this weekend because I knew Zepp got out last week.
I knocked on the trailer door before tugging it open. Inside was clean, though the furniture was still ratty.
“That you, baby?” My mom poked her head out from the kitchen doorway. She looked good or as good as she could. She had a job at the local Waffle Hut and a spot at the methadone clinic. From what I could remember, it was the longest she had ever kept her shit together.
“Yeah.”
Jonathan sashayed past the beat-up sofa to my mom. “Hey there, Miss James.” He took her hand and kissed it. “It’s so lovely to meet you. I love the way you’ve gone with the quaint, floral decor. It really brings out the Alabama in the place.”
I snorted. “Mom, this is Jonathan.”
Her eyes lit up. “This your boyfriend, baby?”
Jonathan wrinkled his nose. “Oh, no, honey. No, no, no.”
“He’s gay, mom,” I laughed.
She looked disappointed. “Knew he was too pretty.”
Jonathan preened under that comment. God, why did I bring him here?
The only place I could take Jonathan that night was Velma’s—it was the only bar aside from The White Rabbit that didn’t ID, and I was not taking Jonathan to a strip club where I used to work. The twang of country music poured through the front doors of the shithole bar, the beat moving in time with blinking Christmas lights that stayed up year-round. Jonathan stopped at the bottom of the steps and touched a hand to his chest. “Oh, my God. It’s a honky-tonk!”
The door hadn’t had time to close behind us before he made a beeline for the bar, dragging me behind him. Velma stood behind the counter, a cigarette dangling from her lips and her bleach-blonde hair piled high on her head in a messy beehive. “What you want, sugar?”
He glanced at me with a smile, mouthing “sugar” on a laugh. “I’ll have an appletini, and…” he motioned to me.
“Just a beer.”
Velma’s gaze shifted from me to Jonathan. “We don’t serve no fancy drinks.”
Jonathan's lip curled in offense. “Fine. Martini?”
She half rolled her eyes before waddled off. I knew, for a fact, she was just gonna dump vodka in a glass and call it a Martini.
She popped open a beer and slid a plastic cup of vodka in front of Jonathan, dropping an olive in it with a splash.
“This is how you grew up?” He stared down into the drink. “This is messed up, Monroe. It’s like I’m in Deliverance. I mean, not that I’d mind if some hot guy in a wife-beater told me to squeal like a pig, but…” He took a sip, and his face immediately puckered up. “Velma! Honey.” He placed the cup on the bar. “It’s been a while since my gag reflex has been tested and that...” He pointed at the offending cup. “Just tested it.”
Velma chucked another olive into his cup, then ashed her cigarette on the floor before shuffling off.
I nearly choked on my beer at the look of horror on his face.
“Right,” he said. “Get me some good country music. If I’m drinking neat vodka, we’re dancing.”
I scooped up my beer and went to the jukebox, picking “Tennessee Whisky.”
An hour later, Jonathan had ordered three more of Velma’s “martinis.” He passed the cup to me. “It’s so nasty,” he choked. “Drink some.”
And yet he kept ordering them—and making me drink them with him. Now we were both drunk. I hung off his arm as I tipped the drink back, wincing at the burn.
He grabbed the empty cup and threw his arm in the air. “Another!” Then he plucked the olive from the bottom of the cup and shoved it in his mouth.
“Hey!” I swatted at his arm. “I want the olive. You had the last one.”
He grabbed my face, pressed his lips to mine, and rammed the olive between my lips. “There.” Then he waltzed off to the bar for more drinks.
My gaze swept over the people crammed in the tiny room, pausing on Wolf’s familiar form. My stomach clenched, tightening further when I saw Hendrix, then Bellamy—both ignoring me—and I knew he was there. I could feel his gaze on me long before I met the dark eyes that had run rampant in my dreams for nearly a year, torturing me. My heart squeezed, long dormant, and trying to wake while my lungs seized in my chest like they’d forgotten how to draw air. He lifted a drink to his lips, his gaze never straying from me. Until Jonathan came back and wrapped an arm around my waist, blocking my view.
“I see you, girl, eyeing up that tall drink of manly water.” Jonathan looked over his shoulder at Zepp. “Tattoos, muscle. Mmm. Bet he’s been to prison a few times. You know, prison always turns them.”
“He’s not gay.”
Jonathan slicked a hand through his hair. “Because I—”
“That’s Zepp,” I said, the buzz from the alcohol dissipating almost immediately.
Jonathan’s eyes went wide. “Oh. My. God.”
The walls felt like they were suddenly pressing in on me. Zepp was here, in the same room, and I couldn’t breathe properly. “I uh, I need to go.”
Jonathan chugged his drink before grabbing my hand and leading me through the maze of people, stopping in front of two girls blocking the doorway. “Excuse me. We’ve got an emergency situation here, and you need to move your unfortunate-looking asses out the way.”
He shoved through them, speed walking me to the middle of the parking lot before he stopped and pulled out his phone. “Oh, look. They do have Uber in the middle of Bumblefuck Nowhere.” The colored lights flashed off his face when he glanced up at me. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” No. I knew I would see him at some point. I just didn’t expect to feel like that. I’d pushed Zepp from my mind, fought my feelings for him every day, but it was so pointless. Because they were all right there, almost as fresh as the day he had broken my heart. That wound hadn’t healed at all. It was still festering away.
The next morning, I woke with the hangover from hell. Jonathan laid passed out, his leopard-print eye mask in place.
“Jonathan,” I mumbled, nudging him.
He groaned and nudged me back, then whispered, “Don’t speak.”
“We need to get your car.” Although, the chances someone stole his A-Class were pretty high. It would have stuck out in Velma’s gravel lot like a beacon.
“I can’t, muffin. I think I’ve had a stroke.”
“Oh my God.” I smacked him with a pillow. “You have not.”
“I think Velma gave me some janky Moonshine.”
“Well, we still need your car.”
“Please go get it. Be my hero.” He took a hard breath. “The wind beneath my wings.”
I hit him again with the pillow, then crawled over his corpse, my head pounding. I brushed my teeth, yanked on my Alabama State sweatshirt and a pair of sunglasses, and braved the bus I had to take to Velma’s.
On the way back, I drove Jonathan’s car well below the speed limit, terrified I would somehow damage it. I was so focused on making sure the gravel on the dirt road didn’t fling up and ping the hood, that I didn’t notice Zepp’s bike in my mom’s drive until I had parked. I groaned, my stomach rolling even more than it already was. Zepp leaned against the wooden railing. All muscle and tattoos, looking better than he had any right to. My heart let out pitiful, pained beats.
I stepped out of the Mercedes and leaned against the sleek side, a good few feet away from Zepp. I needed that distance right now; I really did. My gaze hit the gravel, and awkwardness wound tight around me.
“Nice car,” he said.
“It’s not mine.”
“Figured.”
I let out a sigh. “You got out then.” I knew he had.
Jade had told me, but he certainly hadn’t. Not so much as a text. But then, why would he? He made it very clear in that visiting room. What I wanted didn’t matter.
His gaze veered back to Jonathan’s car. “You moved on then.”
I glanced at the car. The trailer door flew open. Jonathan stood in the doorway, nursing a mug of coffee, my mom’s pink robe on, and his eye mask on his forehead. “Moe Bear, what you doing hanging around in the street like a two-dollar hooker in all her—Oh my...!” His words trailed off when Zepp shifted on his feet. Jonathan clutched the mug to his chest, gaze glued to Zepp. “Tell me you have a brother. Please, for the love of Ru Paul. Tell me there is some more of that genetic pool to go around.”
“Zepp. Jonathan.” I waved a hand between the two of them, then eyed Jonathan.
“Oh, yeah. I’ll just...” He backed inside the trailer pulling the door shut slowly. “Thanks for getting my car, Moe Bear. You’re the wind beneath my wings,” he sang through the closing gap before it shut.
One of Zepp’s brows was raised, the other angled down. “What. The fuck.” His eyes were still on the trailer; Jonathan could have that effect on people.
“He’s not from around here,” I tried to offer as some kind of explanation. Truthfully, I couldn’t think of a place on the planet where Jonathan would be considered normal.
A silence fell between us, and his gaze dropped to my State hoodie. “Why didn’t you go to Dixon?”
“I don’t know.” I’d asked myself that before. I had the offer, full-ride scholarship, just like I had always wanted. But something kept me here. “I guess Alabama grew on me.”
“I’m glad you’re doing good, Roe.” He gave me a nod, turned his back to me, and headed for his bike. Just like that.
There was no reason for him even to show up if all he was going to do was leave. He had no idea how hard it had been for me to find some kind of normal in my life, and just when I was starting to be okay, he shows up. I hated him.
Anger heated my skin. I wanted to shout at him. Tell him how much he had screwed me up. I took a small step toward him.
“Good? Sure.” I paused, fighting the tightness in my throat. “You know, why are you even here, Zepp? Why do you care? Do you just need to feel validated that you played the hero?” My fists clenched so hard that my nails cut into my palms. Over the past year, I had pined for him and hated him, but I could never stop loving him, and that was the worst part of all this.
“The fucking hero? Really?” A sarcastic laugh fell from his lips before he faced me, jaw tight. He grabbed his helmet and threw a leg over his bike. “I’m not a knight in shining armor. I’m an asshole. Don’t know if you remember that or not.”
He was right, but I’d never cared. “But you were mine!” My voice broke. “And you left me when you said you never would.”
His chin dropped to his chest, one hand rubbing over the back of his neck. I couldn’t do this. Not again. I hurried past his bike to the trailer, then slammed the door.
The engine to his motorcycle rumbled to life a few seconds later, the noise vibrating through the aluminum windows before it faded.
Jonathan stood in the kitchen with my mother, a frown on his face. “Moe Bear…”
“I uh, I need to get back to school. I forgot I have a paper to turn in.”
He nodded. “I’ll go pack my things.”