Learning to Forgive (The Learning Series) Page 4

  Looking at her, I arch my brow. “The spare key you leave under that fake rock thing. It’s in the same place that it’s been in since I met you.”

  She nods her head before grabbing her pack of cigarettes off the table. “Okay. Then after you pulled that shit last night, why’d you show up here?”

  Looking down, I let last night replay in my mind. I shouldn’t have acted like that to Janet. Maybe to everyone else, but not her. Looking up, I stare in her direction and tell her the truth. “This was the only place I had to go.” Her face softens a fraction, but I don’t want her pity. I just want her to know how sorry I am. “I know I shouldn’t have yelled at you, but I’ve had a shitty forty-eight hours. I was robbed and left with only some whore shoes and Benji’s old guitar. I had just enough money for a bus ticket and a bag of chips. So I was pissed seeing Benji’s bike outside of Jay Jay’s last night and starving and really, really hurt, Janet. Hurt because I feel like someone else has betrayed me by taking something from me. But after I came here last night, I realized how stupid that was because you were right. I shouldn’t expect you to keep my things and then disappear like I did.” I wipe an errant tear away. “I’m sorry.” My voice cracks as I apologize. Taking a deep breath, I make an effort to calm my crazy emotions the best I can.

  She walks up and touches my shoulder again. This time I don’t freeze or let it trigger a memory. I absorb the fact someone cares for me. Someone whom I trust out of everyone on this earth. “All right, hon. Enough of this mushy shit. I need some sleep before we open tonight, and you have a job to get ready for.”

  Just like that, I’m employed, and she’s forgiven me. I wish forgiveness was that easy for me.

  Walking into Jay Jay’s at three in the afternoon on a Sunday is surreal. I am surprised Janet started opening again on Sundays in the first place because we were usually dead. However, she said with business booming every other night, the old regulars requested one night of quiet drinking. So here I am, in my old black T-shirt that says STAFF on the back, walking through the familiar place.

  I’m feeling hesitant because I’m unsure how tonight will play out. When Janet mentioned Trudy was in charge of the wait staff, I felt my back stiffen as I went on alert. Even though I want that bitch to pay for making my brother miserable, I promised Janet I’d behave while on her clock. I let her know real quick that Trudy wasn’t my boss, and I refused to take orders from a gold-digger. Of course, she quickly jumped to Trudy’s defense. I guess the little hussy has everyone fooled.

  The lunch shift is closing up and getting ready for the night crowd as I make my way toward the back staff lounge that sits across from Janet’s office. It’s cleaner than I remember, and it’s even sporting a new red couch against the wall and a small TV. I guess business has picked up this past year for her to be able to afford such amenities for the employees.

  After placing my bag inside and closing my locker, I turn and see the princess herself walk in, wearing the same smile that used to fool me. When our eyes meet, she stops short and loses it.

  “Blaire… um… I’m so glad you’re okay.” She tries to smile, but it won’t hold. The last time we saw one another was at my brother’s funeral when my palm landed across her face. That was truly the worst day of my life. Out of all the pain I’ve suffered through in my life, seeing my once happy brother lying in a satin lined casket with cold skin, and no smile hurt worse than anything ever could. It literally felt as though a blade was cutting me in half. I begged for his eyes to open. For this to be some sick joke of his. But he didn’t, and I knew this would be the last time I saw him. That image is forever in my mind, and the feelings of loss will always be there, no matter how much time passes.

  Shaking off my grief, I roll my eyes as my anger resurfaces. I will not fall for her lies. “Look, bitch. You might have everyone deceived around here, but I know what you are. I know what you did to Benji. I’ll work with you because I need the money and I’ll keep my hands to myself because I respect Janet, but don’t think you can tell me what to do. Don’t even talk to me or breathe around me. Got it? I don’t want your poison near me.”

  I see her eyes widen and watch her mouth open, ready to speak, but before a word comes out, another voice intervenes. One that I haven’t forgotten, and once again, chills come to the surface while heat pools in my lower half. “Trudy? Everything okay here?”

  “Y…yeah Lyric.” She stutters.

  Lyric? What kinda fucked up name is that? It repeats in my head and my heartbeat picks up with every syllable. I glance at him for one second to see his penetrating eyes burn me alive. Eyes that are malicious and beautiful at the same time. Murky gray-blue encircled by dark lashes and appear to see every part of my anatomy as they continue their evaluation. I feel naked and vulnerable while they calculate every beat my heart makes as well as the movement of my blood in each vein.

  Breaking our stare, I bring my eyes back to my enemy who is intently watching our interaction to one another and try to shake off this reaction. “I see you already have someone else wrapped around your greedy finger huh? Man… you don’t stop, do you?” I walk past them and through the door to escape, but when a large hand wraps around my bicep I’m pulled to a stop. I know who it is without looking behind me, so I keep my eyes ahead, staring down the empty hallway instead of looking into his. I need to be tough with this guy and keep my defenses up.

  He bends low and hisses in my ear. “Leave Trudy alone. You keep your poison away from her. Got it?” He throws my words back in my face. But all I can concentrate on is the warmth of his breath on my ear and the calloused tips of his fingers as they rub my arm ever so slightly.

  My breath hitches for a semi-second on its own accord, but I know he’s noticed when his grip tightens once before he releases me. Still feeling the heat of his murderous stare, I walk quickly to the ladies' room to gain my composure, but I know I’m hiding. Hiding from whoever that monster is because he could make me hate someone more than Trudy. And I’m not sure if I can handle any more bitterness.

  As the night goes on, I stay behind the bar while the other bitches run the tables. As far as talking to anyone, I stick with short conversations with customers and eye rolls with everyone else besides Chris, mixologist of Jay’s.

  I’ve always respected the guy being a soldier who was honorably discharged. He entered the Army right after high school as a way to stay out of trouble and because he wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps. He ended his first term with a missing limb. No one knows his left leg is amputated because he wears jeans all the time while at work. Even though he gets his check once a month from the government, he still wants to make his own way.

  He swats my butt with a rolled dishtowel to gain my attention. And I smile before giving him my middle finger.

  “So, Mouse, what’s with the new bitch look you’re sporting?” Chris passes me a Cosmo to take to some hussy at the bar who keeps squealing like a fucking pig. Who the fuck orders a Cosmo on a Sunday? I wish I had an apple to stuff between her surgically amplified lips.

  Grabbing the drink, I’m tempted to spit in its red contents, but decide against it. We’ll wait and see what she tips me. “To keep people like that,” I nod my head in the annoying girl’s direction, “from talking to me.” I’ve never understood people who see sunshine and rainbows in life, and they get on my nerves. Maybe it was more jealousy at one point in time, but sometime in my past, it’s morphed into detesting them and what they stand for. Ignorance.

  Can’t they see the ugliness that surrounds us as we sit here? The liars, cheaters, rapists? The people who beat down the ones they love? But no, they’re too blind and too focused on themselves. They crave compliments on their looks to bring a sense of empowerment over the opposite sex. They don’t know that this attitude is an actual weakness and could be the cause of their death. Maybe not a physical death, but a spiritual one because they won’t watch their back until after the knife is already embedded. Mandy was the last person I trusted and turned my back on. I’ll depend on myself, and if I happen to fail then it’s okay. At least I’ll walk out without another knife in my back.

  “Yeah. They’re always here for the band.” I give him an eye roll, and he laughs. “Well, I’m glad you’re back. I’ve missed Benji and you. But at least I can have my Mouse back, and I’m sure Benji would want you to be here with the people that care about you.”

  I don’t respond. No one but maybe he or Janet actually gives two shits about what happens to me in life. Honestly, I’d rather no one care. Regardless of their concern, when I have enough money, I plan to leave again. I might keep in touch, but I doubt it. Janet would lecture me about being a wanderer on my own, but she doesn’t know what I did this past year to survive. All the money I’ve stolen and marriages I’m sure I ruined. I’m sure she’d look down on me or chew my ass. Maybe I should tell her. That way she knows how truly fucked up I am, and she’ll stop caring so damn much. I know one thing for sure. After Mandy left me without two pennies to rub together, I’ve decided that I’m tired of liars. So from now on, I plan on being a straightforward person, no matter whom my words hurt.

  The night creeps on, and I watch the clock, waiting for my shift to be over. Thank goodness today is Sunday and we close early. If not, I’d have to take drastic measures and run out in front of a train if one more chick asks me when Lyrical Obsessions will be playing. I think I’ve had at least fifty show up wanting to hear them. Lucky for me, I haven’t seen Lyric since our little clash earlier because I seriously don’t like that guy. He’s just too much. Of what? The hell if I know. I don’t like people that think they know me and can put a hand on me. So I, being a bitch, enjoyed telling his groupies the ass-wipe lead singer was out doing a circle jerk with his buddies and h
ow they can find him on YouTube doing bestiality videos. The looks of disappointment and disgust were hilarious. Let that fuckwad threaten me again.

  “It truly is a small yet, fucked up world.”

  ~Lyric

  Lyric

  Breathing in and out, I hit the heavy bag over and over again. The sting of the vinyl against my bare knuckles is what I need to concentrate, not the red blood that covers them. It reminds me of someone’s hair color that won’t leave me night or fucking day. I need to concentrate on Polesky. Even though no one has seen the fucker in town, I’m sure he has eyes taking notes. It’s what I would do if I were visiting another area. Especially if someone who equally hates you and wants to rip your heart out with his bare hands runs that territory. But no matter how much I try, I can’t get Red out of my damn head. The one on my shoulders or the one in my pants.

  I’ve seen her several times this week, coming and going from Jay Jay’s as if she owns the fucking place. When I asked Janet about it, she tells me the girl has had it rough the past year and to let her pick the staff. I guess those two are close because they usually leave together. Trudy keeps her distance, but I see too much damn niceness when she looks in Red’s direction. I need to get to the bottom of why Red hates such a nice girl so much. Maybe then, I’ll stop expecting her to slit someone’s throat.

  “Cool it, Rampage. King Mo called off the fight.”

  Breathless, I grab the black bag to make it stop. My arms burn and my heart feels like I just snorted a few rows of some prime cocaine. Ryan walks up, sporting his trademark bandana and wrapped knuckles. Probably something I should have done, but I wanted the sting. Craved it. “What the fuck are you doing up so early?”

  “Hey, you’re not the only one who can’t sleep some nights, you greedy sonofabitch. You already took my girl. The least you could do is share the damn gym.” He places his bag by mine against the brick wall and begins to stretch.

  “What do you mean? I didn’t steal nobody’s girl.”

  “Well, how many times have you and Mari fucked?” He continues because he knows I don’t talk about my business like he does. “Even if it’s just once, it’s still more than me. That is one fine piece of ass, and I’ve been trying to bang that for a while.”

  I can’t help but laugh at this kid. He dives in more pussy than a Gyno. Me? It depends on my mood. “Hey, champ, I haven’t stopped you from making a pass at her. Go for it. You’re the one who’s always hooking up with someone else.”

  He turns to where his back faces me and leans on the wall to do some calf stretches. “Yeah. But the other night was the first time I’ve seen her at Jay’s, and my mind was occupied.”

  “Don’t you mean your hands were occupied?”

  “Well yeah! But my mind was full of that Blaire chick Jazz and them were all talking about. That is one fine and fiery POA. I think I might try and talk to her. Ya know? Sweeten her mean ass up so I can lay on the cock while she wears them fuck me boots.”

  With every word that comes from his mouth, my anger goes up another notch. Just picturing Red with anyone brings out something in me I haven’t felt in a long, long time. Jealousy so strong, I sense anger form in its depths, which has me wanting to rip off Ryan’s hands for even contemplating touching her. Touching something that, for some unknown reason, has become a fucking obsession since I met the crazy bitch. He turns around and stops dead in his tracks when his eyes meet mine. “Dude! Why the fucking death-glare?”

  Shaking my head, I focus on the bag again. “I just have a ton of shit on my mind.” I continuously pummel the bag to keep myself in line. Can’t knock the hell out of my drummer.

  Ryan goes to a separate bag and pops in his earplugs to listen to some music. Me? I stay in my thoughts. Plus, I don’t need a distraction when I have my back exposed. After another hour in deep thought about Polesky and now Red, I finish and pack up to head home since the sun is up, but receive a text that has me making a pit stop.

  Pulling into the warehouse, I see Lou, my right hand man, with a few guys I don’t find significant enough to remember their names. I remove my sunglasses and step off my bike before I pat my side feeling my Glock. It’s gotten me out of some major shit the past couple of years. Especially in New Orleans or NOLA as us locals like to call it. It’s my hometown, but the only family I have is either dead or in jail.

  “Lou?” We don’t shake hands when I get to his side. We’re not gentlemen, so why pretend. Suits aren’t right for my crew or me. We keep it casual and maintain a low profile. I’m sure Mobile County police department would love seeing a bunch of suits hanging out at the dock. Anything to get their dicks hard and fatten their wallets. “This better be important.”

  He nods his head. “It is, boss. We found out this fucker here,” he nods his head to a mangled body in the center of the crowd, “has been lacing our shit before he sells it. Had two OD’s last night because of it.”

  I nod my head as I take in the heap of limbs lying on the warehouse floor. His clothes are torn, his face busted, and he looks as if he’s had enough. But I’m strict when it comes to my shit. It’s clean and pure. I have the best heroine, nose candy, and cannabis shipped from all over, but Brazil is my main contributor. If you sell under my name, it better not be tampered with. I look at Lou. “Any minors?”

  “Yes. One was a sixteen-year-old girl.”

  Now I’m pissed. The fucker in front of me opens his eyes (or eye, since one is swollen shut) and watches me walk to stand in front of him. I recognize him. He pulled this same shit a year ago. He sold it for more when it was laced, and then kept more money than he should have. Killed a close friend of mine, and I would have handled it then, but I’m a believer in second chances. Minors are a no to me. I don’t fuck with them. Too much liability because they like to run their mouths and get shit stirred up. Knowing he killed one only brings more heat to me and my boys and depletes my pockets when I have to cover this shit.

  “Pete. Pete. Pete,” I say through a sigh. “I warned you last year about your habit of fucking with my shit. Didn’t I? And didn’t I, being the gracious person I am, let you off with a warning?” Pacing in front of him, I keep my stare on my boots. “And since I’m such a nice person, I’m going to give you one more chance.” Now I look at him. His fear is apparent, but a small, bloody smile forms. I really hate when I can’t beat the fuck out of him from the beginning, but seeing how my boys have already done it, it leaves me with only one thing to do.

  “Yes, sir. Thank you…” He pauses when my hand goes up.

  “Don’t thank me yet. I’m giving you thirty seconds to run as fast as you can before I shoot you. And I won’t kill you right off. I’ll take out your legs first. Then your kidneys and just work my way up. I’ll use every last bullet to make you suffer like that girl suffered before I finish you off with the last one.” His face is pale as he sits there in fear staring at me. “I suggest you get off your ass.” I grab my gun out of the holster. “Lou, get your timer started.”

  Pete stands and starts when Lou says go, but I’m a helluva shot, which he learns right before he dies.

  Leaving the men’s room at Jay’s, I step down the hall and yell in Chris’s direction for a beer before we go on stage. I sit down at our regular table and notice Ryan’s ass sitting on the table, drumming his legs while watching the bar. I know who has his attention, but there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. Finally, his eyes move my way. “What?”

  “Hyde here?” I ask, trying to take my mind off Red working behind the bar in those tight jeans that caress her ass. My palm would look great on it. Cool it, dipshit. “Where the fuck is my beer?” I need a quick cool down before thoughts of a certain bartender fuck with my head more than she already has.

  Instead, I look around and try to keep my mind on the band because tonight’s our first performance with Hyde as the bassist. I made him burn his momma’s boy clothes and loafers in exchange for some jeans and t-shirt. I was surprised to find some ink under his clean cut clothes, and noticed the scar on his left upper back. Not my business. Not my problem.