6. Diesel
Chapter 6
Diesel
I shouldn’t have said that to Rory. She didn’t really earn it and I took my anger out on her. Leaving Ryan at school this morning was the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever had to do. He’s out of my protection there, and too far away from me. I paid a fuck of a lot of money to put him in a private school and one where the security is nailed down tight. I made sure absolutely no one but me is on the list to pick him up and that they know Ryan had been the victim of an abduction—one that involved his mother. I gave them all the court documented paperwork, showing that her rights to Ryan had been terminated and that she was deemed to be unfit and harmful to Ryan’s wellbeing. I had extensive meetings with the principal, the office staff and Ryan’s teacher.
You would think all of that would make me feel better, but it doesn’t.
Not even close.
I’m nervous as fuck, stressed and fucking tired. I’m so tired that I feel it deep in my bones. It feels like I weigh a thousand pounds and I’m just dragging my body along with me.
Seeing Rory this morning, remembering her moans last night, I forgot myself and tried to joke with her—forgetting for a moment that I shut her down and she has reason to hate me. Forgetting that I shouldn’t even want to talk to another woman in my lifetime.
My instinct tells me that Rory is nothing like Vicki—or Violet for that matter. But then, when have I been able to trust my gut when it came to women? Violet was the last one and that almost cost me my son. I need to remember that—not think about Rory.
Unless…
I could treat her like a muffler bunny. She’s obviously in need of a man if what I heard last night is any indication. I definitely need a woman. Finding a woman of my own was where I went wrong all those years ago. That’s how Vicki got to me. I wasn’t like most men in my life. I never wanted to share what I had in my bed—not long term. Now I’m thinking that’s exactly what I need. No strings, no drama.
Fuck buddies.
I could look elsewhere, but Violet left her own set of scars on me. I haven’t really wanted another woman since. Something about my red-headed neighbor with the killer ass and tits has changed that.
The thoughts are still there in my mind when I pull into the Whitefish General Store. I have about thirty minutes before I pick up Ryan and I thought I’d stop here and get some supplies. Whitefish doesn’t have normal shopping centers. They have a general store which sells everything from groceries to clothes. It’s kind of a poor man’s idea of Walmart—which works great for me. I hate shopping almost as much as I hate driving around in my truck. I’ve been dying to get my bike out, but a bike makes Ryan too vulnerable. Maybe I can take it out for a bit tomorrow while he’s in school—I just have to be careful and make sure my cell never loses signal. I need the school to be able to reach me at all times.
I go through the motions picking up household supplies and grabbing hotdog buns for dinner. I don’t cook. I hate cooking and I’ve never had to do it in my life. About the only thing I’ve mastered is heating up soup and burgers and hotdogs. We’ve had soup and burgers this week. It looks like it’s time for hotdogs.
I go up to the front without paying attention and that was probably a mistake. I really should have known better. After all, being alert and paying attention to my surroundings has kept me alive. I need to remember that. Just because no one here knows me, it doesn’t mean I don’t need to be alert.
“Great.”
My head jerks up when I hear Rory. She starts ringing up my items on the register, her face tight.
“I didn’t know you worked here.”
“Probably a good thing you know now.”
“Why’s that?”
“So, you can make sure to keep your son away,” she says.
She’s being sarcastic, but she doesn’t realize that’s exactly what I’m planning. I don’t plan on telling her that, however.
“How long have you worked here?” I ask, trying to start a conversation—and it turns out I’m fucking horrible at it, because I can’t think of anything but that to say.
“Please don’t,” she says.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t pretend we’re friends or that you even want to be my friend.”
“What if I told you that I wanted to be your friend, Rory?”
“I’d call you a liar,” she says, smiling sweetly.
“I realize we got off to a bad start,” I respond, trying to figure out how to dig my way out of the corner I put myself in—all while simultaneously trying to figure out why I want her to think better of me and why I’m bothering to even try. Rory wasn’t wrong when she said I was all kinds of fucked up. I am and it’s becoming exhausting.
“A bad start? You accused me of…. Shit, I don’t even know what you accused me of and that’s how twisted it is! You don’t know me, buddy. You don’t know enough to make?—”
“Noah.”
“Those assumptions— What ?”
“My name is Noah,” I tell her. No one really knows that name. The boys have my name Westin Cross, because that’s what’s on my license and papers. Noah was my first name that no one has called me—not my parents, not anyone in my life other than my grandfather who died when I was five. Which means, I haven’t used it in a lifetime. I gave it to no one. Vicki and Violet sure as hell never knew it. None of my world did. Noah was a name I buried. Diesel is the name everyone knows. Noah was the name I had before I dumped a five-gallon jug of gasoline on the life I had, and struck a match to it. I haven’t looked back since then and maybe it’s a mistake to give Rory that name now… but it seems safer than telling her my road name.
“I don’t need to know your name,” she mutters. “That will be sixty-four dollars and ninety-nine cents,” she adds, while bagging up the last of my items.
“We’re neighbors. You should know my name. I know yours.”
“I already have a name for you,” she responds, taking the hundred I hand her.
“You do?” I ask. For some reason, I find myself grinning. I like the spunk she’s showing. I can usually get a woman without effort. Rory is a novelty—at least on the surface.
“Yeah.” She hands me my change and I gather up my bags. We’re alone in the store and it takes effort not to keep talking with her. I wouldn’t say I’m enjoying it—not completely—but, I definitely feel more alive than I have in a long time.
I’m almost at the door, when I turn around unable to stop myself from asking.
“What’s my name, Rory?”
She looks up at me and I think I see shock on her face for a second. Then, she shrugs.
“Fucking Asshole,” she says. “That’s your name.”
I do something then that I can’t remember the last time it’s happened.
I laugh.