Chapter Seven
Serenity
“You okay, honey?” the bartender I met last night asks me.
I nod, swallowing my tears. What Rage said about Tiffany cutting her daughter’s hair was a punch to the gut. My mom did the same thing to me when I was a kid, but not for the same reason. She wasn’t jealous of me. She just didn’t want to brush it.
“I’m … gosh, I don’t really know. Everything’s been so …”
“Crazy?”
“Yeah.” I rub my temple.
“You’ll feel better when we get some food in you,” Cole says, helping me to my feet.
“I’m not hungry,” I tell him, scooting to the edge of the bed.
The other men walk out, leaving me alone with Cole and the bartender.
“My wife worked her magic, I see. You look good.”
“Shelly is your wife?” She was so nice to me, and she made my hair look great. It’s going to take me a while to get used to the new style, but at least it doesn’t look like I was run through a woodchipper.
“Sure is. I’m a lucky man,” the bartender says. “I’m glad she got you all fixed up.” He places his arm over my shoulder and guides me out of the room. “You can call me Wolfe.”
On the way to the Rage Cage, I remain in a daze. I know what’s happening, but it’s like I’m watching life through a window. Dissociation at its finest. When the chaos gets to be too much, I tend to check out. I don’t do it purposefully. It just happens.
“This is Prospect. He’ll get you set up in the room,” Cole tells me.
He snaps in front of my face when I don’t respond.
“I heard you,” I snip, shoving his hand away from me.
His attention turns to Prospect. “She belongs to Rage, so keep your eyes and hands where they belong unless you want to lose them.”
My heart would normally race at such an absurd statement, but I don’t have it in me. The last two days have completely drained my social battery. It seems no matter where I go or who I meet, I’m doomed for a life of insanity.
Once I’m geared up, Prospect leaves. He was nothing but gentlemanly, so I guess he took Cole’s warning to heart.
I stand in the center of the room, remembering my rage last night. It came from nowhere. Well, probably not nowhere. It was stuffed down somewhere in this body of mine, but it’s not there today. If it is, I can’t seem to find it. Nor do I want to.
My gaze roams over all of the items placed around the space for me to break. I’ve never related to so many inanimate objects in my entire life. Just sitting still, waiting for that final blow. The one that sends you scattering into nothing but a pile of broken pieces.
Prospect’s voice echoes over the loudspeaker. “Are you okay in there, hun?”
“I’m fine, why?”
“Well, you haven’t hit anything.”
“It’s my time, isn’t it?”
“Uh, yeah, I guess. Just let me know if you need something.”
“I will,” I say, pulling the gloves from my hands and tossing the helmet to the ground.
My fingers dance over a glass vase sitting on an old console television set.
As I move around the room, I stumble across a porcelain music box.
On the top, a boy and girl sit on the edge of a little pond with fishing poles in their hands.
There’s a small duck in the center. I hug it to my chest and then lower myself to the floor, resting against the wall.
I wind the music box not expecting it to work. When it does, I let out a little laugh. The duck spins to life and twirls around the water as the small children watch from the shore.
My heart aches to go back to the days when my brother and I were allowed to stay at my grandmother’s house. It was the one place in the entire world that brought me peace. Mr. Johnson’s oddity shop was a close second.
We stayed at her house often when we were little.
The older we got, the less it happened. It was usually when one of my mom’s boyfriends didn’t want us around, or when, a few times, she was promised a new life in another state.
No matter how much I prayed she wouldn’t return, she always came back for us.
I’m not really sure why.
My mind returns to the smell of pine and dirt.
To the sounds of birds singing in the trees and water lapping softly at the beach.
I loved every minute there, but I learned quickly that it was something I had to hide away in my heart.
The one time I told my mom I wanted to stay, she proceeded to question my love for her from that day forward.
It wasn’t that I didn’t love her. I did … do. It felt safe at my grandmother’s, and I could be myself. I didn’t have to walk on eggshells trying to avoid my mother’s big feelings at Grandma’s house. I could sleep without fear of who might come into my room at night.
I run my fingers through my hair, and my stomach falls.
I can’t believe I slept so hard I didn’t hear Tiffany come into my room.
Something tells me it was due to the exhaustion I felt after my outburst here at the Cage.
I know I can’t fault Rage for how deeply I slept, but part of me wants to blame someone.
I also can’t hold him responsible for Tiffany’s bad behavior. He didn’t cut my hair, she did. The man even settled the score on my behalf. It brings a small smile to my face until I remember what else he did … he claimed me.
A shiver runs up my spine. Rage isn’t someone you want making such a bold declaration. He’s scary as fuck. He’s unpredictable. He’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met. His very name should be enough to send me packing.
My head falls back against the wall as the music box plays a happy little tune and the duck floats around.
“You’re just like me, stuck to the world, getting pulled around by a magnet that won’t let go,” I whisper.
But he can leave his little pond with my help.
“Do you want to stay?” I ask, wondering the same for myself.
Do I want to stay in chaos, or do I want to keep running from it without ever quite breaking free?
“Do you want to live in the same pond forever? Swimming the same paths?”
It wouldn’t matter if I did have the choice. I’ll never be free of my family’s karma.
When the door swings open, I quickly pull the duck from the music box, wrapping him in the palm of my hand.
Rage steps inside, his eyes roaming over my face like he’s trying to figure me out. “Why aren’t you using the room?” he asks, his brows pulled together and his tone harsh.
“Who says I’m not?”
“I do. Put your equipment back on and let out your rage. It’s the only way through.”
I look up at the ceiling following the ductwork as it winds above us. “Sorry, but I’m not feeling it.”
He walks over and picks up a glass bowl. “Here. Pretend this is Tiffany’s head. I know you’d like to take a little anger out on her.”
“Who are you to pretend to know anything about me?” I stand up slowly, unzipping the overalls I’m wearing.
We stare at each other as I step out of them. I’m telling him no. If he doesn’t accept my refusal to this, I know I’m screwed on declining anything. So far, I’ve been complacent. This is my first act of rebellion.
His jaw clenches, and I can tell he really wants to force me to pick up the bat like he did last night.
“Fine,” he finally spits out. “Go wait for me with Prospect.”
Do I want to push a little further and refuse his request?
It might cause more problems.
“Don’t make me throw you over my shoulder,” he warns.
“Fine,” I snap, but only because I’ve seen first-hand he doesn’t say things he’s not prepared to act on. I’d prefer not to be carried by this man.
When I get to the lobby, Prospect is nowhere to be found. I hurry to the glass door. There are no Bastards outside either, but what is out there is my car.
I glance behind me, biting my bottom lip. Do I stay?
Why would I?
What do the Bastards have to offer?
More uncertainty and turmoil.
I push against the bar on the door and find myself walking out to my car. Unbelievably, the door is unlocked. I fall into the seat, finding the keys in the ignition.
I could drive away.
There is a chance he might follow, but I have to try, don’t I?
I start the engine, look back at the building, and no one comes out to stop me.
The little duck digs into my palm as I watch a jogger run in front of my car. He stops, running in place as he waits for a truck to pass him. The driver waves, and he waves back. It reminds me of the place I just left. People seem friendly around here. It feels right.
It always feels right until my past catches up to me.
My fingers tense in protest as I turn off the car. The same thing happens with my legs when I force them to walk back inside the Cage.
The irony is not lost on me. A little bird, willingly flying back into her cage.
I sit down behind the counter, waiting for whatever comes next. When I swivel the chair toward the front door, I notice the cameras that monitor each room. My gaze stops on the one I was just in. Rage is standing with his phone in his hand, but his eyes are on the camera in the corner … on me.
It makes me swallow hard. Was this a test?
“Hey,” Prospect says from behind me.
I yelp, jumping from the chair. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that,” I accuse, backing away from him.
He holds his hands up. “I wasn’t trying to scare you. Honest. I’m just as surprised to see you as you are me. I thought you and Rage would have taken off by now.”
My eyes follow him as he walks over and locks the door. He notices me eyeing him warily. “Don’t worry, you can still get out, but nobody’s coming in. Are you guys going to the Trough tonight?” he asks.
“I don’t even know what that is,” I say, rounding the counter opposite him.
He doesn’t pay me any attention as he starts clicking off the lights. I move to the front door, deciding to wait for Rage there.
“So, where are you from?” Prospect continues to try to make small talk with me.
“Um, well, a lot of places, but most recently Colorado.”
“Cool. Cool. Me too. Do you miss it?” he asks.