Chapter Eleven #2
“That’s a shame, although sometimes when I was a kid I did wish I was an only child.”
“Three brothers will do that,” she laughs. “So with an accent like that I’m guessing you’re not a native to Baltimore.”
“Nothing gets past you.” She laughs again. “I’m from Nashville.”
“Seriously,” she twists around and draws her knees up, her bare feet are close to my thigh. “Is that where the name comes from?”
“Right again.”
“Is that how you get your names, like where you’re from?”
“Sometimes. Mostly it’s about personality, or attitude, or something that just fits.”
“If that is the case Beast seems like his name is all wrong.”
“Why do you say that?”
“He’s more of a bear than a beast, he’s nice and genuine and doesn’t raise his voice. He’s the least beastly person I’ve ever met.”
“Maybe it’s just when he’s in the sack,” I grin. “We saw how… vigorous he can be.”
Her cheeks turn pink and she hides her face behind her wine glass. “Stop it.”
“Don’t pretend you don’t agree,” I poke her ankle.
“Okay fine. But, I’m going to choose to believe he got the wrong name.”
She hasn’t seen him doing what he does for the club so I’m not going to change her opinion on that.
“Okay,” she says after taking another sip of wine. “If you could choose your name, instead of it being Nashville, what would you have picked?”
“Shit, I’ve never really thought about that. We don’t choose our own road names, they’re given to us, like we’re born into the club.”
“So, if you were given the name,” she rubs her lips together and looks up at the ceiling, thinking of a name. “Sprinkles! You would have been happy with that?”
A loud laugh bursts out of me. “I mean, I think I could pull that off.”
“Your bikes exhaust could fire out glitter,” she chuckles.
“And I’d have to have a pink helmet with a unicorn horn.”
“I would love to see that,” she tilts her head back and rests it on the back of the couch.
“You think I could look tough in that get-up?”
“It takes a strong man to be confident enough to wear a pink unicorn horn helmet.”
“Damn straight.”
“But I wouldn’t want to see you getting your ass kicked so maybe stick to Nashville.”
“I think you’re right. But now we’ve talked about it, I do kinda feel a little let down. Does it make me unoriginal, Charley?”
She raises her head and looks at me. “Honestly,” she nudges my thigh with her toes. “I don’t think there is anything unoriginal about you. I’ve never met anyone like you.”
“How do you mean?” I turn to face her.
“I’ve been really crap at trying to find somewhere else to live. I told myself one or two nights max and I’d leave you alone and, every time I thought about looking I got distracted. You could have kicked me out ages ago.”
“I wasn’t about to do that. And to be fair, I haven’t exactly looked either.”
“It’s on my list. I can’t keep imposing on you.”
“Funny thing is, it’s been nice, having someone around.”
“Someone to watch cheesy vampire shows with and not judge you?”
“Exactly,” I lean forward and tap my beer bottle against her glass. “In all seriousness Charley, I’m not planning on kicking you out. The last thing I want is for you to go from one bad situation to a slightly better one when you can get what you actually want if you wait a little longer.”
Her head dips and she stares into her wine. “At least let me pay rent.”
“You don’t have to do that.” She is about to protest and I understand that it’s not just about paying me for being here, it’s about pride. “How about you pay for the groceries, and gassing up the SUV?”
“That sounds like I’m getting off easy.”
“Yeah well, it’s not going to be forever, right?”
She frowns into her wine and nods. When she looks up at me, it’s hard to read her expression. Is she disappointed by that statement, or looking forward to the day she gets out of here?
It’s really hard to tell and when she finishes her wine and says she needs an early start at Elegance, I don’t ask her to stay, instead telling her I’ll handle the clean up.
“Goodnight, Nashville,” she smiles as she walks around the couch.
“Hey, that’s Sprinkles to you.”
Her laugh is sweet and kind of throaty and it makes my gut clench.
When she’s gone, I face the giant screen TV and study my reflection.
My cut is hanging on the back of the chair in the corner, I’m wearing a dark shirt and jeans, but kicked off my boots when I came in.
My hair is a little on the scruffy side and my face could do with a shave.
I’ve never had a woman turn me down and I’ll admit, in my younger years I played up to that shit. I can’t help but sit here and wonder what a woman like Charley could ever see in a guy like me.
The way she has been living, and the desperation to dance and earn money tells me one thing about her. Coming from Woodside, that tells me a whole lot more and intrigues me.
I’ve always been a geography buff. That shit enthralled me when I was a kid. I loved reading maps. I kinda hate GPS systems, they’ve taken away the fun of reading a map.
Woodside is in the Bay Area and is one of, if not right up there, as one of the most expensive places to live on the west coast. I met a guy once who came from Woodside, he was fucking loaded, like serious money.
How did she go from that, to this? Obviously she didn’t want to tell me and I won’t ask. I could easily get Blaze to look into her for me, I’m not going to do that either. All I can do is hope she finds what she is looking for.
I’ve never felt any real connection with a woman before, never really wanted to get to know one, or been worried about them.
As fun and light as I kept things tonight, my eye never went too far from that bandage on her hand. This odd sense of protectiveness is growing for her, and I don’t have a clue how to deal with that.
Charley is different to other women I’ve been around. She isn’t trying to impress me, or anyone else, she hid the fact she was in a bad place and was doing her best to make it work. She doesn’t like taking help… And yet, she hasn’t left my place.
Maybe I make her feel safe. That scares me and thrills me in equal measures.
There are a lot of reasons to back off and leave her be. Stupidly, I don’t want to.