Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Huh?” I said groggily. Bleary-eyed, I picked up the cold 8-ball near my ribs. Maisie was kneeling on the floor, her head barely above the bed.
Her face was placid, but even in my post-sex sleepy stupor, I could sense her energy was restricted, about to snap.
“So, when were you going to tell me you’re a fucking felon?”
And there it was. Her tone was vicious, her eyes in a furious squint.
“It was a long time ago.”
She jumped to her feet. “Do you realize I’m running from a cop, being protected by a fucking criminal?!”
“Who better?” I said dryly.
"Sure, trap a girl, make her feel indebted to you, then tell her you’re a felon.”
“That’s manipulative as fuck. Don’t say that.”
Her face screwed tight as I called her out on her twisted truth. “Dane! You lied to me!”
“Bullshit!” I stood up from the bed, feeling naked and defensive in more ways than one. “I never once lied to you.”
“This is what you meant in Vermont, isn’t it? I asked why you lied to the lady at the check-in desk, and you said you’d done worse. This is why you make the bed and keep everything tidy. Why you’re weird about finishing your food and you knock on the table when you’re done eating. Some weird ass prison habits.”
I found a clean pair of underwear and pulled them up my legs. “Sounds like you pieced it all together, darlin’.”
“This is why you can only work for yourself. You’re a fucking felon, dude! No one will hire your ass!” She raked her hands through her hair, panic trembling her voice. “Oh my god, this is unbelievable. I’m such a fool!”
“I’m still the same guy.”
Continuing on her train of thought, she pointed at me. “This is why you were away from Pine Bluff when your sister died. You were locked up!”
“Have you ever watched your mom die of cancer? Huh? Have you ever watched her lose chunks of her beautiful hair, the one thing that brought her joy? Listen, I know your mom is a complete cunt, but mine wasn’t.” My throat clogged with memories. “I miss her every fucking day, Maisie!” I yelled.
“What the hell does this have to do with your mom?” She tore off my white shirt and threw it at me.
“Who do you think the weed was for, huh?” I said, stepping closer. “This was before everyone caught up to logic and legalized it. Even with cancer, it was a bitch to get. The other pain meds didn’t work. So I did what any loving son would and hooked her up with something that helped. It started off simple. My cousins down in Boston had a grower, I’d drive down there for the weekend, grab some, and bring it back.”
She hooked her bra around her torso, sliding it around to loop through her arms. “And you needed to steal a car and a gun in the process?”
“They’d ask me to drive a car up to my dad and we’d fix it up at the shop and take it back down when I did another run for the pot. They’d give us a cut. I was fresh out of high school, and all my friends had left for college, and I was completely directionless. The medical bills were adding up, and I think my dad and I just turned a blind eye. We knew it was wrong, but we thought since we were keeping it in the family, it would be okay. We were cogs in the wheel.”
She glared at me, silently yanking on the rest of her clothing.
“I was young and dumb. My mom passed away and I got cocky. I started selling to people around Portland on my way back to Pine Bluff. I was good with the people and built rapport. It got more frequent, and I think the officials at the tolls caught on. They’d see me every week in a different car. My dad was eaten up by grief, so he didn’t have it in him to worry about me. One weekend, my uncle asked me to bring a rifle up to my dad for hunting season. I did, and that’s when the bust happened at the border of New Hampshire. A trunk full of weed in a car that wasn’t mine and a gun that wasn’t registered to me under the back seat.”
“Dane! Grand theft auto isn’t a simple family business!”
“There you go again, being a complete hypocrite!”
“Hypocrite? How?”
“Oh, it was fun to break the law when it was something simple like cyberbullying Ted Cruz or being full-on pussy out on a public pool table.”
“I doubt either of those would get me jail time.”
“How ‘bout stealing a boat or breaking and entering a historical monument to fuck each other’s brains out? The second it’s something less desirable or icky ”—I mocked a girly tone—“then you get to judge the crime. Funny how that works.”
“Oh yes, you’re so noble. Listen, the weed thing I can look past, but chopping cars? Several? You’re a thief!”
“I did what I did. I paid for it. That decision stole my youth. I didn’t even get to say goodbye to my sister because I was fucking locked up. Do you know how hard that is? And I completely left my dad all alone to bury them in the same year. He was all alone. Once I was out, I only got a couple years with him before he died. Don’t you think I know my decision had consequences?”
She folded her arms over her chest. “Listen, I’m sorry you lost them, but I feel super unsafe now that I know you’re a felon and didn’t mention it. I told you some of my dark secrets. It feels like you kept this from me on purpose. I mean—"
“You feel unsafe around me? I’m an unsafe man?”
“Yes.”
“You’re putting me in the category of Boyd and your ex? Are you fucking for real?” I knew my question was loaded, but I didn’t care. Not waiting for her to answer, I snatched my keys up. “Grab your shit.”
“I want you to take me back to Pine Bluff.”
“Yeah, I figured that much out, darlin’. It was obvious you were never going to fucking stay, and now this is just the perfect excuse to run away from this.”
“This? What even is this?” she exclaimed.
I placed the 8-ball in her hand, covering her fingers to hold it. “This was the realist damn thing you’ve ever felt, and you’re willing to throw it all away because you’re scared.”