Chapter Thirteen
Roadkill sat in the common room at the Savage Warriors clubhouse, sipping a couple of fingers of Knob Creek while he watched Phantom whip Bobby Lee’s ass at pool across the room.
The kid deserved it. He’d been strutting around acting like the cock of the walk all evening. He needed to get his ass handed to him, but in a way that would hit his pride, hence letting Phantom wipe the floor with him worked.
“Need more?” Shawn, one of the prospects asked as he passed.
Roadkill paused, glanced down at his glass then shook his head.
He rarely drank more than one, but once in a while he would cut loose.
Rarely when everyone else was though, like club parties.
That was when Cyclone insisted that he and all the enforcers stay alert the most. Because let’s face it, when better to sneak onto the compound and cause trouble for the Warriors than when they’re partying and all shit faced.
Not that tonight was a party. Just an average Saturday night.
Some of the guys were drinking. A few were smoking weed.
A couple were spending time with the Belles, and Roxy had come in, sat next to him, and offered to have a little fun with him but he’d waved her off.
None of the Belles could hold a candle to Jenna.
Nor the Savage Angels. And the Warriors made sure they only hired high class pussy for the strip club.
But every time he even looked at one of them, an image of Jenna smiling up at him flashed through his mind and he knew, no one could take her place or even compare.
He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there when his phone vibrated in his cut pocket.
Worried it might be Cyclone, since he hadn’t seen the Sergeant at Arms all day, he pulled it out and checked the screen, frowning when he saw the incoming message was from Jenna.
What was wrong that she would text him this late?
**Jenna: Why do men suck?
He stared at the screen, unsure what she meant. Had she even meant to send this to him? Was she talking about him? So many questions circled his mind, but there was one thing he had to send first.
**Roadkill: I’m sorry. I’m going to need more context.
He frowned at the dancing bubbles that let him know she was typing something, reached for his glass and took a sip, his eyes still on the screen. When her message popped, it only took him seconds to read it and clench his teeth.
**Jenna: Sorry. I just found out there’s a teacher at the middle school that makes all the girls uncomfortable.
They won’t report him because it’s their words against his and they get told they’re twisting things or blowing them out of proportion.
The same bullshit gaslighting that’s been going on for centuries any time a woman stands up for themselves.
**Jenna: I mean I know we can’t solve the world’s problems, but why should kids have to worry about things like this?
He stared at the screen for several seconds.
Trying to unclench his fingers enough to respond.
But what should he say? What could he say that wouldn’t scare her off?
First though, he needed more information.
He needed to know who this was, which school, though he had a good idea on that one, but it was best to be clear, and what he was doing.
He couldn’t decide how exactly he would teach this teacher a lesson until he knew exactly what he was doing.
He took another sip of his bourbon as he tried to figure out exactly how to word his message, then he started typing .
**Roadkill: We need to talk about this. Lacey too. Will you let me take you to breakfast? Same diner, 9 a.m. tomorrow?
He hit send and watched his screen as he waited for her response. The dots danced then stopped several times before a message popped up.
**Jenna: Are you sure? I really didn’t mean to get you involved in this. I will call the principal on Monday morning. I just needed to vent so I could calm down enough to sleep tonight.
Fuck it. This was taking too long. He hit the phone icon at the top of the texting window and put the phone to his ear.
“Yes?” Jenna’s voice came across the line, quiet but not as if she didn’t want to talk to him.
“Sorry. I couldn’t handle how long texting was taking. Tell me what’s going on.” He listened, grunting a few times and encouraging her to continue, as she recounted the conversation with Lacey.
“You’re not wrong. Do you think having a meeting with the principal will help?” he asked. He didn’t.
Her sigh echoed across the line.
“No. But it’s all I can do.”
“What about breakfast tomorrow?”
She sighed. “I wish we could but we better not. I have too much to do tomorrow. It’s my last day at the bar and I have a lot of things to get done here before I go in.”
She sounded frazzled and he wished he could take care of this for her, but somehow, he knew she wouldn’t want that. He’d have to hold back and wait, at least for now. He just hoped the fucker didn’t escalate when she reported him.
“Enough about my worries,” Jenna said. “What are you up to tonight? I didn’t interrupt a good party, did I?”
“Does it sound like I’m at a party?”
“The music is a little loud, but I’m not hearing a lot of people, so I don’t know. If it were country instead of rock, I’d say you could be at the Driftwood.”
“I’m not at any party, or in a bar. I’m just hanging out in the clubhouse. I’m watching Phantom whoop Bobby Lee at pool. What are you doing? I thought you’d be asleep by now.”
“I’m in bed. But I couldn’t sleep.”
“Too much on your mind,” he said, knowing how that was.
Roadkill had spent a lot of nights unable to sleep for one thing or another that wouldn’t shut off in his brain.
“I like that you thought to text me when you just needed someone to listen. Give me a sec. I’m going to head up to my room.
It will be quiet up there and we can talk about whatever you like. ”
Normally he hated talking on the phone, but he did prefer talking to texting especially when it was detailed or complicated. And, apparently, when it was Jenna.
He stood, picked up his glass, and took it with him as he headed to the stairs then up to his room.
“All right,” he said, closing his bedroom door and turning the lock. “It’s just the two of us now. What else is on your mind?”
“Nothing.” There was a slight pause. “Everything. I don’t even know where to start.”
“Start with whatever’s the heaviest. What’s weighing on you the most?”
He found bottle of Knob Hill he kept up here for the occasional drink and poured a couple of fingers into his glass, then sat in his recliner and hit the button that elevated his feet.
“I already told you that.”
“Then what’s the next one?”
“How to tell Mason I quit. Obviously, I can’t put in two weeks’ notice if I’m starting at the shop on Monday. But I also don’t want to miss out on my wages for tomorrow’s shift. They’ll help get us through until Papa Smurf pays me.”
He made a mental note to ask Papa Smurf how often they paid and if possibly they could get her an advance on at least part of her first check.
Roadkill started to give her a solution but as soon as he opened his mouth, he remembered something his mama had said when he was a boy, before his dad had passed away, then her only a few years ago now.
“Do you want solutions or just someone to listen?”
“Huh?”
“I know you wanted to talk. And if you just want someone to listen to you, I can do that. But if you want me to toss out possible solutions, I can do that too. Tell me what you’re looking for tonight, darlin’.”
The silence on the other end of the line was loud. He fought the desire to ask if she was still there, but he wanted to give her time to work it out. Something told him she’d never been asked that, at least not in quite that way, before.
“That’s a good way to think about it. I’ve never heard it put quite that way before. I had to think for a second,” Jenna said when she spoke again. She sighed again. “I guess I’m just looking to unload. Someone to listen while I vent. Is that okay?”
“That’s fine. I understand the need for both, but I also know it can be frustrating if you’re looking for solutions and all you get is someone who listens and tells you you’ll figure it out.”
She let out a dry laugh.
“I’ve had a lot of that.”
“So tell me. Other than the creepy teacher, and telling your creep of a boss where to shove the job, what else is on your mind?”
“It might be easier to tell you what’s not on my mind.”
“Tell me whatever you like. We can switch to video calling, if you like?”
“No. It’s easier when I can’t see you. I don’t have to worry so much about what you’re thinking or if you’re judging me. I can pretend I’m eight again and I’m telling Benji all my troubles over a cup of imaginary tea.”
“Benji?” He couldn’t stop himself from asking.
“Benji was my best friend when I was a kid.”
“What happened to him?”
“Nothing.”
“You said was, I assumed something happened.”
She laughed. The bubbly, giggling sound made something warm deep inside. He liked hearing her happy.
“Nothing abnormal happened. I grew up. I stopped trusting all my secrets to a stuffed monkey.”
He chuckled.
“Benji is a stuffed animal?”
“He is.”
“And do you still have him?”
She was quiet for a moment, and he got the feeling she was debating answering.
“Maybe.” Her voice was soft, as if still having her childhood confidant was something she was embarrassed about.
“That’s sweet. I wonder if I’ll ever get to meet him.” He shook his head and wondered where the hell that had come from.
“Maybe. We’ll see.”
They continued to talk for another hour, until Jenna started slurring her words and her voice had gone thick with sleep.
He told her to sleep well, then they disconnected.
But Roadkill sat in his recliner for a while, thinking about everything she’d said.
All the troubles and worries she’d laid on him.
As he thought about it. How could one small woman shoulder so much? And for so long.
But if he had his way, she wouldn’t ever have to face the world alone again. Now he just had to convince her. And her little sister.