4. Jessica
4
Jessica
“ I can’t believe you invited him to the game tomorrow!”
My father shrugs like any rich man who can do whatever he wants. “We’re indebted to the young man for helping you and Diablo.” He turns and stares at me. “What kind of woman is named Diablo?”
“She’s a kickass blocker, Daddy.” I stare out the window, already dreading the game tomorrow. Daddy likes me to be at every home game. He’s hoping some rich athlete will pluck me off the streets and take care of me. Give Daddy the grandkids he’s been waiting for. Lord knows my other brothers and sisters are too wrapped up in their own selfish ways to give him any.
“I spoke with the Sheriff. He will drop all charges against you and the other players.” That is a prelude to the oncoming lecture I get whenever he’s displeased with my behavior. Fortunately, I’ve learned to nod and move on. “I wish you would tone down the violence. I thought there was medication for people your age.”
That was a new one. Drug me until I abide. “I understand,” I say and nod with the intention of not abiding.
“Did you see your mother this morning?”
Yeah, she was about to go play scissors with Winnie. “She’s not my mother, Daddy.” I stare out the window, wishing Mom was still around. “Her and Winnie were just getting back from spending your money.”
Daddy pats my leg. “Now, now. There’s plenty for everyone.”
There is, but she doesn’t deserve jackshit. I nod again. “I understand.” I’ll do everything within my power to make sure the cheap whore never gets a dime when he’s gone.
The limo drops me at the rink, and instead of leaving to meet my father at home for dinner, I stay at the rink and sit in the empty stands. The place is a complete fucking mess.
“Sup, Jessica,” Jeremy says as he enters the rink. He’s too far away to see my eye roll. He’s the last person I want to talk to right now, but that doesn’t stop him from climbing the stands and sitting next to me.
“Frat tonight at U M,” he says. “Some of the guys and their girls are going down to get wasted.” He puts his hand on my knee, and I knock it away. “The fuck is your problem, Jess?”
“You’re my problem, Jeremy. You just assume I’m your girl. We haven’t even been on a date!” I scoot away, and Jeremy stands. His fists are clenched as tight as his jaws but probably not as tight as his asshole. “Fuck off, Jess. Stay at home by yourself. I’m getting laid tonight. Something you should try!”
As Jeremy leaves, I consider following him out to the parking lot and using my keys to write asshole across his car door. Ultimately, his not worth the time or effort.
I get up and walk down to the rink. Two championship banners hang from the rafters. I was responsible for neither, but I will be responsible for the next one.
Jeremy is another asshole in a long line of assholes that don’t get me. I’m not interested in going out and raising hell with a bunch of kids. I’m an old soul. At least that’s what Mom told me before she died. She didn’t see my disobedience as something bad. She said it was me making my way.
I want something different. I want to raise some hell, but not with those people. I’d had my fill of college guys trying to get into my panties.
I didn’t want to be like either of my parents. I didn’t want to abide by aristocratic rules. I wanted to make my own. I wanted to live life before I got old like my father and had to worry about some golddigger. Maybe I wasn’t so keen on the money. Nobody would believe that. Hell, I didn’t believe it.
“Thought I would find you here.” Emily comes to the middle of the rink and turns her head to the banners. She had been partly responsible for both banners. Of course, being ten years older, she had a headstart. “Who pissed in Jeremy’s Cheerios?”
“I did. Hiked my leg and pissed like a Saint Bernard.”
“He’s an asshole.” Emily motions over her shoulder. “I’m heading down to Grizzes Bar.” She hooks her arm around mine. “Come with me. Keep me company. Ryan stood me up and I don’t want to go home and Netflix and chill by myself.”
“Sex toy broken again?”
Emily nods. “Think the motor is burned out.”
Arm in arm, we leave the rink as the cleaning crew arrives. Emily wants to get shitfaced, so I volunteer to drive.
Grizzes sits on the southwestern side of town near the Mississippi River in the Harbor District. I know I've made a mistake as we pull into the gravel parking lot. At least two dozen motorcycles sit out front. Emily gets out, but I stay in the car. She stops at the hood and waves for me to follow. I stay put.
“What if those two assholes are in there? The ones who were at the rink today?”
“They aren’t locals, Jess. Come on.” Emily opens my door. “If they are in there, we’ll leave. I promise.”
I follow Emily to the entrance, and I cringe when we open the door. The stench is almost unbearable. Beer, sweat, and sex.
“Nice,” I say. “This is not me.”
We walk to an empty booth beneath watchful eyes from both men and women. Metallica booms from a Jukebox in the corner of the bar. Several bikers are at the two pool tables, drinking, laughing and playing very little pool. The place is entirely different on the weekdays.
“What can I get you?” a waitress wearing next to nothing asks. Her schoolgirl plaid skirt is short enough for everyone in the bar to see her ass.
“Two house beers,” Emily says.
The waitress stares at me for a moment. I expect her to ask for an ID but someone calls her away. “Coming up.”
“Scoot over, bitches,” Diablo says and scoots in next to me. “Doctor says the knees will be fine. Hyperextension. Nothing to write home about.” She chugs a beer and slams it on the table. She’s wearing tight blue jeans, chaps, and riding boots. Her black leather visit has her name on the right side, and the remaining vest is covered in national park pins.
“You ride?” Emily asks.
“Since I was a teenager. My father taught me. Said as soon as I was old enough that I should get my ass out on the road and let the wind blow through my hair and get dirt in my teeth.” She waves at a waitress and raises her beer bottle. “Another one!”
“One of those is your bike?” I gesture over my shoulder at the door.
“Loudest motherfucker in the parking lot!” Diablo grabs the beer from the waitress’s tray when she comes by. The waitress puts our beers on the table and turns to me.
“I need to see your ID,” the waitress says. “We don’t serve minors.”
Diablo belches and slams her hand on the table, laughing and cussing like a sailor. “This ain’t no minor. This is Jessica Stallone! She owns the Memphis Macabre roller derby team!” She motions for the waitress to bend over so she can whisper something. “Now, Bella,” Diablo says and I notice her hand reach between Bella’s legs. “I think Jessica will leave you a mighty big tip.”
Bella nods and smiles at me. “Thank you.” She walks away, and Diablo watches her ass twisting. Diablo then smells her own fingers. What happened to the shy woman I met earlier?
“I had a twelve-inch strapon in that pussy last week. Fucked her like a Saturday night whore.” She laughs again, and Emily and I join in. “Who’re looking for?” she asks when I crane my neck to look around the bar.
“The two bikers at the rink this afternoon,” I say. “One keeps hitting on me.”
“Hope it was the smaller of the two,” Diablo says. “I’d ride that bigger motherfucker like a ball-strapped bull at the rodeo.” She looks around the bar and sighs. “They were from the Brothers of Choas Pine Bluff, Arkansas chapter. Probably gone home by now.”
“I need to use the lady’s room,” I say, and Diablo scoots out.
I walk to the back of the bar and down a short hallway, passing half-naked women on posters, a pay phone, and a biker practically fucking a woman against the wall. I enter the Women’s bathroom and take a deep breath while looking in the mirror. A woman’s shoe slides out from beneath a stall door, and then the door swings open.
They don’t see me, but I see them. The biker has the woman pressed against the stall wall. Her left foot—no shoe—is on the toilet seat, and her other foot is on the floor. The biker’s hands are so tight on the woman’s hips that his nails dig into her skin.
“Fuck yeah!” the biker says, his massive biceps flexing with every animalistic thrust.
“Come on, Brady,” the woman pleads.
The biker glances at me and winks but doesn’t stop fucking the woman. It’s like a car accident on the highway—I can’t turn away. The biker grunts like a grizzly bear and shoots his load into the woman. She bucks a couple of times and smiles when she turns to see me watching.
They step out of the stall and pull up their pants before nonchalantly walking out of the bathroom. I stay exactly where I’m at, staring at the stall. The other stalls are out of order and if I want to go pee, I only have one choice.
One step forward, I see a splash of the biker’s spunk on the floor. Life could be worse. I step over the shimmering spot and use the toilet. I finish, wipe, pull up my jeans, and open the door.
“What the actual fuck are you doing in here?”
“You forgot to flush,” he says. He sees the spot on the floor. “You do that?”
“Move!” I order, and he does. “Isn’t there a men’s bathroom?”
“Says out of order.”
“So, you came in here? Can’t you go outside like the other barbarians do?”
“Watcher,” his buddy says when he opens the bathroom door. The other biker sees me and leaves.
“We got off on the wrong foot,” he says. His eyes have a slight sparkle that I hadn’t noticed before. He smiles and leans against the wall as I wash my hands. “The name’s Johnny Walker. The club calls me Watcher.”
Although he holds out his hand, I decline his invitation. “My friends are waiting for me.”
He steps to the side so I can leave. “See you tomorrow,” he says. As I walk past, I get a strong whiff of the man and almost pause. Almost.
I’m stopped in my tracks before I even make it back to the booth. Watcher’s biker friend sits in the booth with his arm around Diablo. Emily is nowhere in sight. I take a deep breath and continue to the table. I slide into the booth and watch the two swap spit.
“Where’s Emily?” I ask, but Diablo can’t seem to hear through the kissing. They take a short breath, and I ask again.
Diablo wipes her mouth and takes a drink of beer. “She left with some guy.” That’s all I get before the two return to practically eating each other. Diablo drops her hand to the guy’s crotch and squeezes his dick. The biker returns the favor by dropping his hand and squeezing Diablo’s thick crotch. When the zippers begin to come down, I slide away and head to the exit.
The night air is thick, heavy, and humid. Haze hides both stars and the moon.
“Hey, sweetheart,” a man says and steps from the side of the bar. A second and third man join him. They aren’t bikers; at least, they aren’t dressed like the men inside the bar. A fourth man gets out of a van and opens the back doors. “What say you take a little ride with us? Go hang out by the river.”
“No, thank you.”
Two men walk around the car when they realize which car belongs to me.
“You don’t have a choice,” the first man says. He pulls a knife from his back pocket and shows me the blade. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. It’s your call.”
“Hardway.” Watcher comes down the steps from the bar, and the two men around the car join the man who likes to talk. “Get in your car and go, Jessica. Go straight home and don’t look back.”
I start to say something stupid, but he holds up a hand. “Okay.”
“Go.”
I climb into my car and back out of the parking lot. As I leave, I look in my mirror and see the four men start toward Watcher. I turn my eyes back to the road and press the gas pedal, tears filling my eyes.
How many times will a man get shit on and still try to save your life? Two? Three? I didn’t suspect he would be showing up at the game tomorrow. That’s a shitty thing to think, Jess .
I get home to find Megan out by the pool smoking weed. My father is sitting in the hot tub smoking a cigar. All is right with their worlds. My world is shit, and neither care. Despite all the money I have, I’m still alone.
A lot of people want what I have. They see the glitz and glamour, but they don’t see me running up the stairs to cry in my bedroom at night.