5. Alisha “Kitty” Quinn
ALISHA “KITTY” QUINN
Though he’d been hesitant, Exodus borrowed an SUV from someone and very carefully maneuvered his way back to my place.
Before he allowed me to be alone inside, he went through the house, checking each room—in closets, under beds.
When he was sure we were alone, he stood down but I didn’t think he relaxed much.
While he pulled some boxes from storage for me, I set to work throwing out food that had gone bad in the fridge, frowning at the smell the whole time.
It wasn’t just the smell—who had money to be throwing away food in this economy?
“Assholes.” I muttered.
I tied up the garbage bags and struggled with them to the garage. I’d wanted to take them to the bins at the side of the house, but Exodus had made a good point.
The people who were after me might check and that would tell them I was home.
“Cunt-knuckles.”
I tripped over myself but managed to keep from falling over.
Barely.
Biting into my bottom lip, I paused to gather myself before hefting the bags—one after another— into one of the bins I had there for wintertime usage.
It was a while later that I took out some drinks for us. Rummaging through my snack stash, I found a pack of potato chips and carried it back with me to the living room.
I was sitting on a chair flipping through one of my mother’s diaries while Exodus frowned down at the contents of one of the boxes.
“Why keep all of this stuff?” He lifted a broken mug then set it back in the box. “I mean, there’s sentimentality but then there’s this. When does it go from memory keeping to plain ole hoarding?”
The next thing he held up was a man’s shirt.
“She loved him.” I shrugged.
“Seems like a waste of love to me.” He showed me an orange stuffed fish with one eye missing. “The man just got her pregnant and dipped. I’d want him dead not remember him.”
I thought about what he’d said and understood it.
“Yeah.” I replied, still thinking about it. “But sometimes love is weird like that. It makes us do stupid things.”
“I don’t buy that.” He put the box out of the way and sat on the floor. “Being a mother with a husband is hard enough. But with a husband like that? Who deserves that?”
He paused briefly.
“Leaving your woman like that—especially after she gives you a child makes you a coward.” He added. “And deserving of all the shit things karma can cook up for you.”
“Maybe he was scared.”
“That’s bullshit. Plenty of men get scared at the thought of being a dad.” He frowned deeper. “That’s the biggest most scariest thing anyone can do. But millions of men do it every day. He was a coward. Plain and simple.”
He paused as if rethinking his stance then shook his head.
“My woman is mine.” His voice was hard, filled with pure, raw determination. “If she gives me a kid, I’m not going anywhere. After she put her body through all that—the least I can do as a man, as her man, is help her with the few things I can. That’s my family.”
I smiled.
In that moment, I knew I was beginning to feel something for Exodus—something warm and soft and?—
I sighed.
And it wasn’t just about the way I yearn when I thought about him naked and hard over me.
No, this was so much more.
Almost like a flower blooming.
“I hear you.” I managed, my voice shaking.
“Listen to this—he doesn’t love me. I’m pregnant and he still goes out to his little whores.
After he goes where he goes, he comes home smelling like a brothel wanting to fuck me.
I don’t know what he has to pass on to me and hurt my child.
Even if he doesn’t love me, what did this baby do wrong?
I will kill him if he tries again. I swear on my life, I’ll kill him. ”
Silence.
The words of that passage echoed through my head like a gong.
“Why did she stay long enough for him to leave her?” My eyes stung with tears I didn’t want to fall.
“Maybe your mom thought you’d need him.” He rested a large palm on one of my knees. “Maybe it was love, like you said, and she believed that.”
I wasn’t sure what to think,
Unable to read more or I’d definitely break. I was closing the dairy when it slipped from my fingers to the floor. It landed facedown and open. As I leaned down to get it, something caught my eyes.
“He tried taking my savings again. This time I told him I’d kill him in his sleep.
He said it was an emergency, but it always is for him.
The last time he borrowed my money for a so-call emergency it was three grand and I never saw a penny of that back.
I’m almost certain he’s gambling again and this time he has to pay for that stupidity himself.
I can’t let him at that money. He’s not supporting this household.
He managed to get himself fired from his last job and hasn’t worked in almost two years.
I’ve managed to scrape some funds together.
I’m not sure how long it will last but I’ll be damned if he gets his hands on it. ”
I looked in Exodus’ eyes, not sure what to think or how to feel.
“Could this be something?” I wanted to know. “The gambling.”
Exodus nodded.
“Could be.” I replied. “If he was gambling that heavily that could explain why we can’t find him. Why we couldn’t find a death certificate. Now, he’s probably hiding on purpose?—”
“Or being fish food at the bottom of Lake Ontario in cement shoes.”
That night while I tried digesting what I was reading in my mother’s journal, Exodus ordered me Thai food. When it arrived we ate together while sitting on the floor.
For the first time, other than Sam, I felt free to speak with Exodus. He listened—actually listened as I told him about the time I accidentally went to school with my skirt tucked into the back of my leggings.
I even told him about the time I almost caught my kitchen on fire trying to fry fish—usually I would cook them in the backyard on the grill. That made them healthier and the smell wouldn’t be stuck in my clothes or curtains.
As it began raining, the lights flickered.
“Should I get the salt?” He teased.
I laughed, hiccupped loudly then double over laughing again. While I was with him, I forgot myself and fell into this moment of comfort.
That night, I fell asleep on the sofa while we watched a movie and the next time I woke up, I was in bed, a blanket drawn up to my shoulders, cozily tucked in.
Exodus had carried me to bed.
I wish I had been awake to know what it felt like being in his arms. The size of his body told me he must be strong and the thought of those arms holding me up—well, frankly, it turned me on. It made my body burn in ways my ex hadn’t made me feel.
I lifted the sheets over my head as my cheeks heated and my body trembled.
I wish?—
It was still dark outside, and I checked the time to find it was almost three in the morning. I turned on the table lamp and paused a moment before doing anything else.
After using the bathroom, I showered quickly then made my way out to see that he’d fallen asleep on the sofa. Since I couldn’t lift him, I covered him with a quilt, checked the door then turned down the lights.
But I didn’t feel sleepy and brought back one of my mother’s journals to the bedroom. After climbing under the blankets, I shifted a couple of pillows under my back and kept on reading.
The deeper I went into the stories, the more I realized my father was an asshole. Maybe Exodus had been right.
My mother’s love and youth were wasted on him.
That DNA flowed through my veins.
Corroded.
Stagnant.
Poison.
No wonder I’d been cursed.
He’d done horrible things to my mother. And things grew worse after she became pregnant.
My mother, according to the journal, believed he was doing all those things because he knew that she couldn’t leave him.
She was pregnant.
She felt that he believed he had a right to mistreat her because they were married.
What made him eventually leave was probably he realized she wouldn’t obey him as he thought as a good wife, she should.
She was standing up, talking back and at one point he slapped her across the face, and she gave him one right back.
It was then, according to her writing, he realized that short of killing her, he was just as stuck as she was.
I couldn’t make him stay—but what did I expect?
If my mother’s love couldn’t keep him, I don’t suppose a kid would.
At some point during the wee hours of the morning, I must have fallen asleep. I woke to tears streaming down the sides of my face with fear gripping every part of me.
I had a nightmare, but I couldn’t remember—I hated that.
The smell of coffee drifted into my bedroom, and I remembered that Exodus had stayed with me.
Quickly, I ran out of bed, brushed, showered and changed.
Making sure my hair was brushed and tied back in a ponytail, I walked, barefooted out into the kitchen and leaned against the doorframe, watching him.
His back was muscular, and proud.
He moved around the kitchen searching for things as the smell of bacon assaulted my senses.
While he didn’t know where I kept things, he was making do.
“You didn’t have to make breakfast.” I blushed. “I could have done that. Where did you find all this?”
I entered deeper into the kitchen to steal a strawberry from the bowl on the counter. During my purge of rotten food the evening before, I’d all but emptied the fridge.
“I ran out while you slept.” He looked up from the scrambled eggs he was making. “I hope scrambled eggs are fine. I didn’t know how you like your eggs. Either way, I don’t know many ways of making them—except poached.”
“Eww.” I crinkled my nose. “I wouldn’t be putting that in my mouth.”
He glanced at me—a heated look flashed through his eyes so fast, I might have imagined it.
“Hey, a man is making me breakfast.” I sunk my teeth into the strawberry and moaned at its sweetness. “I don’t care how you make my eggs.”
Exodus laughed while dumping the eggs onto a plate.
“It’s just eggs, bacon, toast and coffee, Kitty.”
“To you.” I hurried around the counter to get a cup. “Let me explain, coffee is important.”
I said nothing else until I’d dumped some coffee into my mug, added cream and sugar and had taken two sips.
“What could make this better was if you were making those eggs naked.” I told him bravely. “But this, this is good.”
Exodus laughed loudly.
“Girl, you better behave yourself.” He murmured sweetly to me.
I grinned and sat on one of the stools.
Breakfast was delicious—and it took everything in me not to lick the plate. Maybe it was the company that made things so good.
He talked to me about things. But I knew Exodus was a man of few words. He was doing this for me—to take my mind off what was hanging over my head.
—the unknown, the fear, the things that went bump in the dark.
For that space in time, I wasn’t thinking about the demons hidden in my DNA. I wasn’t thinking about the woman who’d given birth to me of whether I thought she was brave or a coward.
For that moment, the weekend was as it should be.
I was having breakfast with this man—this beautiful man who could hold a conversation that kept my brain stimulated.
At some point, we talked about Pride and Prejudice, a book his mother had forced her boys to read.
It was a book he strongly disliked and wasn’t sure why so many women loved it so much. It hadn’t been fun for him, and he was still bitter about it.
“I mean, it was a book.” He shrugged. “I wasn’t a fan of reading it. The way it was written didn’t make things any easier. But I had an amazing English teacher who was able to explain things to me.”
“So, fan now?”
“Oh. No.” He waved his fork at me. “Don’t get carried away.”
“Okay, there has to be a book you love or at least like.”
“Yeah.” Exodus nodded. “Stephen King.”
“Oi.”
He laughed,
“Reading is supposed to be fun. As an adult who is usually traveling, I need something fun to pass the time. And I do read other things.”
“I was watching some of your fights on Youtube.”
“You hate.” He chewed. “I usually get scared when a woman says that to me.”
“Why is that?”
“They’re usually not a fan.” He chuckled good-naturedly.
“I’m not a fan.” I admitted. “But you seem good at what you do. No one else can dictate to you what you should be doing.”
I watched her.
“But you need to protect your head better.”
“Oh?”
“Cauliflower years, Exodus.” She pointed out. “Stop letting them get you there. And it’s not even the ears. It means you’re getting hit in the sides of the head—a lot. That’s not good. Concussions are a thing and?—”
I stopped speaking as I noticed how quiet he’d been to find him smirking at me.
“Are you worried about me, Kitty?” He asked, voice soft. “It’s very sexy.”
“Well—who wouldn’t be worried?” I hung my head and grumbled. “It’s—I’m only saying getting hit in the head so often can’t be good.”
Exodus laughed softly.
“I’m trying to keep you from brain damage. That’s all.”
He chuckled.
“Alright, Kitty. I’ll listen to you.”
Blushing, I shoved the last of my breakfast into my mouth. I placed my plates and mug in the sink and ran for the door trying to hide the way my cheeks heated, the way my body trembled.
Stopping, I managed to face him.
“Thank you for breakfast. It was delicious.”
“You’re very welcome, Kitty.”
Biting back a whimper, I continued my escape, locking myself in the bedroom
I couldn’t breathe well enough and my knees gave out.
Slumping to the floor, I tried thinking of every unsexy thing I could have but nothing helped. Thoughts of Exodus forced its way through my haze.
If I was brave enough to check, I’d find myself wet and ready for him—all of him.