Yield

14. Ryke

Hell on wheels pulls into my driveway and I have a front-row seat. Max messes with her phone as I approach her door. I stand before her, hands in the pockets of my sweats, and she hops out. Her jeans are loose throughout the legs and fitted at her waist with chunks of missing fabric, taking ripped jeans to a new plain. She tugs her sunset-colored t-shirt over her belt loops. Good Vibes. I hope she’s doing as well as her shirt states.

“How was the drive?”

“So-so.” She shuts the driver’s door and opens the rear.

“Traffic bad?”

She shakes her head, reaching for her bags. “The normal.”

“What do you need me to carry?”

“Um, here.” She hands me the pink suitcase I recall from her last stay.

“Your duck pillow is still in the guest room.”

“Oh, yeah. I said I would make a trip to get him and…” She fades out.

“It didn’t happen.” She grabs another bag and closes the door, hitting the button on her key fob.

“You know how busy I’ve been. I can’t believe I forgot about him though.”

“He’s betrayed as fuck, but we became best friends. I might keep him.”

“The hell you will. Buy your own,” she argues and starts walking towards the porch.

“But I like him.”

“Avery is mine and I will never share.”

“Ouch, ouch, oww.” I stop and she turns to evaluate. “My arm...it hurts. I think I pulled something. I’m not gonna be able to carry your bag anymore.”

She circles me, taking the bag. “Move out of the way. Boss bitch coming through.” She glances back, flicking her chin up. “You coming?”

“It’s my house.” Taking off in a full run, I snatch the bag back and speed up to the door.

We exchange a few silly looks, making our way to the guest room—her room. I drop her belongings off and she follows me back to the living room. I sit down and recline my side of the couch. She curls her legs up, tucking them under her butt. Her hair covers both of her shoulders as she leans back, closing her eyes a few times. She’s tired—doesn’t want to let it show.

“Hit me with it, Max. You’re fucked up, aren’t you?” I’ve had my share of heartbreak. “You have bags under your eyes.”

She sighs. “I’m too tired to function and too anxious to sleep.”

I reach for a thin tan throw blanket on the back of the couch and toss it at her. “What are you anxious about?”

“Everything. All the what-ifs and...what’s next.“ She stretches the blanket over her leg, her toes sticking out the end.

I tug the fabric down, covering her sky-blue nails.“If you’re looking for someone to tell you that you’ll be alright, I can be that guy.”

“You don’t want to be that guy. Don’t get swept up in my mess.”

“I wanna be that guy.”

“Why?” She moves around. “I like that you’re not that guy. You’re fun Ryke. My funny friend that I laugh over stupidness on the internet with and the friend who drags me to the paintball arena when I’m in a shit headspace.”

“I can be both.” Shit. I’m making her uncomfortable. “Um, like, feel free to vent on me. I’ll nod and agree with you. Spill the tea, girlfriend.”

Her laugh eases my smokey thoughts. “See, fun Ryke.”

“It does have a ring to it. Not really, but I’ll take it...I’m here when you need me, peach.”

“I failed. The one thing I never want to fail at.”

“Nobody wants to fail.” I hang my head. “I was in a relationship for a long time.”

“Wait, Ryke Onak is going to share his deep, dark secrets?”

“Shush yourself or I won’t tell you.” I settle my gaze on her. “I dated this woman for four years. This was before all the Rave stuff. She cheated on me with one of my, at the time, friends.”

Her lower lip shuffles left and right. “That’s shitty.”

“I was the idiot who stayed with her. I believed her when she said she was going to change.” I thread my fingers through my hair, brushing it to the side.

“I understand that.” She blinks down.

“I knew you would, but uh, moral of the story, everything happens for a reason. I caught her for the second time and left. It took a toll on my confidence and Rave helped me get it back. Now look where I’m at. A solid business and some good company.”

She rubs her thumb over the inside of her finger. It looks like a tattoo. “I hope I can find that content place sooner than later. I guess I’m...I’m questioning everything.”

“It’s going to take time.”

Her eyes meet mine. “It sucks.”

“What’s the tattoo on your finger?”

She smiles disingenuously. It’s tainted in disgust and agony. “A circle.” She nods. “It’s eternal, always connected...no beginning, no end.”

“A permanent wedding band.” She heavily inhales, slowly letting it go. “He’s a part of your journey, Max. Whether you’re ready to accept it or not, he will always be connected to you. As the father of your daughter...A friend when you needed. A love that you outgrew, who refused to grow with you. Hang on to the joyous memories that came with that significant symbol...and one day you can redesign it to fit the next journey.”

“You are wise beyond your years...and I hate it.”

My low chuckle follows her remark. “Well, you’re here. Why not test drive a new opportunity?”

“You want me to stream you, right? As in, follow you around hoping I don’t get trampled by crazed women with mask kinks?”

“Would I put you in danger? I mean, yeah, I did throw you out in a paintball arena, but you survived.” I shrug off her side-eye. “At the very least, you’ll have a good time and forget about everything else for a few hours, but you should probably take a nap.”

“Yes, Dad,” she mouths off.

“It’s big Daddy, actually.” Big eyes bring realization and I toss a throw pillow at her. “ Please don’t. Any variation of that is too much for me. In fact, I’d rather you call me a bitch.”

Thank the skies, she’s laughing. “Don’t tell your followers that.”

“I’m only scary when the mask is on. Rave. You’ll find out tonight.”

“What time are we leaving?” She asks.

“Three hours or so. You have time for a nap...a shower.” I shrug. “I know how you women like to spend an hour getting ready.”

“Don’t use the term you women if you ever want to keep a woman. And I have a kid, Ryke. Why must I always remind you of that? I know how to get ready in less than twenty minutes.”

“I stand corrected.”

She curls up on the corner, closing her heavy lids, and I sneak out of the room, letting her rest.

“Whoa, there’s a woman on your couch.”

Alex stops between the kitchen and living room, loudly making sure I know there is someone else in my house.

“No fuck. Don’t wake her up.”

He bends low, narrowing his eyes. “Is that Max?”

“Yeah.” I continue chopping veggies at the counter.

He walks around, stealing a slice of my bell pepper and taking a bite before he parks his ass on a stool. “You didn’t tell me she was here.”

“And you didn’t tell me you were stopping by.”

He blows me off, searching for answers. “Why’s she here, Ryke?”

“Same reason she was here last time, Alex. She needed a friend.”

“Are you taking her to the club tonight?” He takes another bite, chewing obnoxiously.

“Yes.”

“Sure that’s a good idea?”

I lay my knife down and transfer the vegetables from the cutting board to the strainer. “Why wouldn’t it be? I want her to take the job. The only way she’s going to consider it is if she experiences it first.”

“You could have anyone livestream.”

Moving to the sink, I run the water, tossing and rinsing the veggies. “I want someone I can trust handling all my social media accounts. I already pay her to keep my website maintained. She knows what she’s doing.”

“You could still hire someone locally,” he prompts.

“I don’t care if she only streams twice a month.”

“You want her.” He won’t let up.

“Quiet.” If she hears I even remotely like her in a way that is more than friends, she won’t stay here, she won’t consider working for me, and I won’t have a chance. I do want a chance. She’s great...funny, kind, adventurous. She has a kid. I can handle it. She has pain. So do I. We have this chemistry that I can’t deny and she knows it’s there too. Maybe she can’t see anything beyond friendship right now. That never scares me off. I’m a patient man.

“You always want what you can’t have, Ryke. Ashley, McKenna, Angel. Should I go on? You know how those ended.”

“With me getting shit on.” I lean against the counter, crossing my arms.

“Yep. Cunt. Psycho. Cheater.”

“She’s not like them,” I contend.

“Right, because she’s married,” he scoffs.

“Separated.”

“What? This is a change in development.” He sits upright, raising his brows. “They’re done? Like done, done?”

“I think so.” I turn back to the sink, shake the excess water from the strainer, and pour it into my skillet. “I’m going with her to look at a couple of apartments on Monday.”

“Here?”

“One here and one, um, in Virginia.” Rubbing two fingers across my forehead, I’m waiting for another acidic line.

“You’re going to drive to Virginia to look at an apartment with her. Man, you’re in it.”

“The fuck do you know?” I’m getting defensive. Yeah...he knows.

“Do we need a repeat of Roxanne?” Fuck you.

“I was seventeen.” I find the oil and Everything Seasoning from the cabinet.

“And that’s the only reason you don’t have a record and why I don’t have one.” He picks at his teeth, eyeballing me.

“It was a long time ago.” I add the necessary ingredients to my pan and turn the heat on low.

“Fuck, whatever man. You do you but don’t expect me to bail you out. I’m broke.”

“Stop spending all your money at the casino.” I open the refrigerator, grabbing the plate of sausage.

“I’m gonna hit big one day.”

“And blow it all the next.” Unwrapping the plastic from the top, I lift one by one into the pan with my tongs.

“Probably.” He shrugs. “I heard E went over to Sara’s last night. That movie thing she asked him to watch.”

“It’s a series, I think. I wonder how that went?”

“Haven’t heard from either of them, so they’re probably still fucking. You only get me and Chris tonight.” Only two bodies I’m not making money from in my club. Oh, how will I survive?

“No VIP. They’re booked.” I toss the plastic in the trash can and walk back to the sink to wash my hands.

“Chris won’t leave the bar anyway. Still has a hard-on for Tess.”

“I’m not the only one that’s chasing rainbows.” Fucked up. I admitted it.

“Nobody listens to Alex. Noo. How old is Tess?“ He stands up and walks to the cabinet he knows I keep snacks in, pulling a bag of pretzels out.

“Twenty-four or twenty-five.”

“Two years older.” He barely swallows before he asks the question. “Wait, how old is Max?”

“Thirty.” I continue around the kitchen.

“Is everyone into the older women now?” He drops food on the floor and I halfway roll my eyes, glaring at him.

“She’s only four years older than me.”

“You admit it. You want her?”

I look around the corner into the living room to check on her. “If she hears you…”

“What? You won’t do shit.”

I face him. “I won’t let you in the club.”

“Are you seriously waiting for her? She was...still is, married, man. It could be months till she wants to date again.” He puts more food in his mouth, chews, then frowns, furrowing his brows. “Unless she’s a whore.”

“What the fuck?” My jaw hangs, looking at him like he’s crazy, and he nods to the side. “She’s not like that.”

“I’m just saying.”

“If she moves down this way, then it’s fate. If not, it’s another lesson.”

“You take after your dad. Hippies. Instead of church on Sunday, do you dance around a campfire and cleanse your chakras while you charge your crystals?”

“Dickhead, we only charge our crystals once a month when it’s a full moon.” He smirks at my snide remark and I snatch the bag of pretzels out of his hand. “Make yourself useful. If you’re eating here, you can pitch in.”

“Where’s my maid skirt?”

“In the closet next to the size twelve stiletos and mop with your name on it.”

“Sure you don’t want to hire me? I’d make a great addition to the club.”

“I’ll tell ya what.” I take a drink from my stainless water bottle. “If one of the guys quits, I’ll add you to the roster.”

“No deal. If I’m not your first choice, I’m fucking out.”

“Just say you have commitment issues.”

Alex flicks me off before pumping soap on his hands at the sink.