Chapter 4
I woke late the next morning, still sore between my legs.
Rather than think on the reason why, I got out of bed and headed to the bathroom.
After I emptied my bladder and washed my hands, I grabbed hold of my hand towel and paused.
We were still a week or so away from summer solstice, but the weather had been warm for a while, and my garden was nearly in full bloom for this time of year. It was time to swap out my linens.
I knew I didn’t look like it, with my rock-n-roll vibe, but I was the kind of woman who embraced every season in my home. It was my way of hitting the refresh button; a reminder to myself of the passage of time and the significance of another year gone by—and me still alive to experience it.
For the next forty minutes, I busied myself swapping out the pale, spring-toned bathroom linens, kitchen towels, living room throw pillows and blankets with the warmer, bolder décor of my summer collection.
It was a subtle change. While my garden was beautiful chaos, my home’s interior was cottage cozy.
In all my living spaces, I’d painted the walls a muted sage green.
My two bathrooms were pale gray, and my kitchen was dusty blue with stained wood cabinetry I upgraded a year ago.
My bed linens and couches were off-white—a blank palate for me to dress up anyway I liked; and the area rugs I had scattered about were patterned in such a way that I could pull the colors I wanted into each room in every season.
I knew this wasn’t my forever home. There was a ticking clock on my freedom I couldn’t forget; but so long as I was here, I had every intention of decorating the hell out of it.
After I stowed away my spring décor in my unfinished basement for another year, I was past due for a mug of coffee.
I returned to my bedroom and shimmied a pair of jean shorts underneath my sleep shirt.
I grabbed my phone and my wireless handphones, slipping them on before starting my latest audiobook.
As I tucked my phone into my back pocket, I returned to the kitchen in order to brew myself a cup.
When it was finished, I headed for the back door, slid into my sandals, and stepped outside.
The mid-day sun was high in the sky, and I knew it wasn’t an ideal time to water anything, but I did it anyway, my book keeping my thoughts from wandering where I didn’t want them to go. I was only halfway across the yard when my phone began to ring, interrupting the narrator in my ear.
I loosened my grip on the spray handle attached to the hose and set it at my feet before reaching for the device. When I saw Georgia calling, I filled my lungs with a breath and contemplated ignoring her. It only took me a second to remind myself she would keep calling if I did.
With a heavy sigh, I tapped the little green circle.
“Hello?” I answered, stowing my device in my back pocket once more.
“Hey, there, honey,” greeted Georgia.
I was getting ready to pick up the hose and continue my task, but her use of the term honey made me pause. I frowned, already regretting having answered.
“What do you need, mom?”
“Who says I need anything? Can’t a mother just want to hear the sound of her daughter’s voice?”
I wrapped both hands around my coffee mug and willed myself not to lose my shit.
“Sure. We can talk. You can pretend you give a fuck about what I’ve got goin’ on, then you can ask me for whatever it is you called for— or we could skip to the end.”
“Well, damn. Who pissed in your Cheerios?”
“Georgia—”
“You know I hate it when you call me that.”
“And you know I hate it when you beat around the bush.”
“ Fine ,” she clipped. “Things aren’t so great down here. We’re hurting for money.”
I nodded, my grip tightening around my mug as I pulled in another deep breath.
It wasn’t news that she and Tommy were barely getting by.
The club where they both worked had gone out of business five years ago.
Seeing as Georgia had been dancing on a pole for as long as I could remember, the only work she could find since was waitressing—which didn’t tip nearly as well.
Tommy, on the other hand, was a lazy son-of-a-bitch who couldn’t hold down a job to save his life.
“Sorry to hear that,” I muttered.
“Ali-Mae, they’re takin’ the house.”
I shrugged, even though she couldn’t see me do it. I couldn’t understand why she was burdening me with this news. We weren’t close—not by a long shot. I wouldn’t help her, and I sure as fuck was not going to bankroll Tommy.
“Sorry to hear that,” I repeated.
“Well—we were thinkin’, maybe we might be able to come stay with you for a little while.”
I sealed my eyes closed, my body practically curling in on itself at the mere thought of living under the same roof as either of them ever again.
“No. That’s not an option,” I told her, with not an ounce of remorse. “We don’t even live in the same state.”
“That’s what I’m saying, honey. Maybe we could come to Gillette and start over. Lord knows, something’s got to change.”
“No. My answer is no.”
“We have nowhere else to go. I’m your mother, Ali-Mae.”
“Yeah, exactly,” I scoffed. “You’re a grown up. I’m sure you’ll figure it out. I had to. I’ve got to go.”
“Ali—”
She didn’t get a chance to finish. I reached for my phone and ended the call as fast as I possibly could.
My audiobook began to play, picking up where it left off, and I lowered myself down onto the ground as the words floated through one ear and out the other.
I folded my legs underneath me and took a slow sip of my coffee, trying to refocus on the story.
I wasn’t surprised when another call interrupted the narration a second time.
I ignored Georgia’s call. And the next one. And the next.
When I was sure she’d given up, I rewound my book a couple of minutes, finished my coffee, and then stood to water the rest of my garden.
It was after noon by the time I wound the hose and headed inside to prepare something for lunch.
I was tossing together a grilled chicken salad when another call interrupted my book.
I swore under my breath as I extracted my phone from my pocket, but my irritation was instantly squelched when I saw it was Winnie calling.
She didn’t know it, but she was the closest thing I had to a best friend.
Being the ol’ lady to the president of the Wild Stallions meant she was on the compound often.
She was the first woman I met after I moved here, and she was one of the only women I’d ever admired.
We never confided in each other over drinks or spent the afternoon shopping—but, like Mustang, she accepted me for who I was and what little I had to offer.
She welcomed me into the fold, and she never got irritated by the way I kept her at arm’s length.
When she called, I knew it was because she needed something.
Unlike with Georgia, I was always more than happy to answer.
“Hello?” I said after accepting the call.
“Hey, Phoenix. How are you?”
“I’m fine, and you?” I replied politely.
“Good. Really good. I’ve got news. Baby Lane was born this morning.”
“Oh, wow. That’s great news.”
I thought back to the wedding and seeing Jenna there. She looked about ready to pop, and something told me she was relieved her baby boy had decided to make his way out into the world.
“Yeah. Jenna’s doin’ great. So is he. A few of us are going to drop by the hospital later, if you have any interest in comin’.”
I knew immediately I didn’t. The invitation was far too intimate. Not to mention, I wasn’t entirely comfortable around babies. Especially newborns.
“I’ve got to be at the bar,” I told her. “I hope you’ll send my best.”
“Of course. Anyway—the reason I called is because I’m organizing a bit of a food train for Maverick and Jenna. Can I count on you to sign up for a meal?”
I smiled as I glanced around my kitchen. Cooking a decent meal was definitely something I could do. “Absolutely. Just tell me what you need and when.”
“How about dinner? I’m hopin’ to fill Saturday or Sunday night.”
“I’m off the clock Saturday. I’ll take that one. What time should I drop by?”
Once we nailed down the necessary logistics, we said our goodbyes. I made a mental note to carve out time for a grocery run before work the following day, and then I got back to my lunch. It was getting late, and I needed to get a move on.
It was Mustang’s night off, and I was manning the bar with Buck and Rodeo.
Buck was more useful than Wrangler, as far as slinging drinks was concerned, but I wasn’t convinced this was his calling.
Mustang officially hired him on part-time a few months ago, but he usually earned his wage at Horsepower Auto-Supply.
Rodeo knew the guy wasn’t my favorite, and he was always quick to cover for his brother when he screwed up an order, but Buck was on my short list.
It might have been time to have a conversation with Mustang about hiring in more outside talent. Maybe even a woman, if we could trust her not to turn into some mindless club sheep.
The band that night curbed my impatience. They were our regular Thursday gig, and they were one of my favorites. They played mostly covers, but they were good, and they never had anything on their set list they couldn’t do justice.
When they took their first break, so did I.
I left the guys to eat the meal I brought from home.
I was gone no more than fifteen minutes, and when I returned to the bar, Twister was there.
I had so much trying to crowd my mind since Georgia’s phone call, I didn’t have to battle thoughts of him all day.
I was barely fazed by his presence now. Furthermore, I suspected he’d play it cool like he did the night before.
I noticed he was empty handed, and both Rodeo and Buck were otherwise occupied. I didn’t hesitate before I approached him where he sat, near the end of the bar.