My chances dissolved into a hostile environment.
Goon one boarded the plane, leaving his sidekick behind near the car. I guess we only needed one goon for this trip.
Maybe we weren't a threat anymore.
Maybe this goon was more trigger happy and able to get the job done if he needed to.
I settled into the seat, shortly falling asleep, until I felt Hunter's unlaced boots kick the side of my Balenciaga bootie sneakers to wake me. He had a lack of grace when speaking at a regular volume in my direction and not in full sentences for someone just waking up. “Hey, wake up. We're here.”
Untangling my limbs that were balled up against me, while I had fit myself in the seat, I could already feel the pressure of the air creep in from the exit. I pushed my sunglasses on and descended the stairs to an identical black SUV with pitch black tints and a second goon to match our first.
I slid against the leather and felt myself stick to the material. I was already feeling hot, and I had only been off the plane for a few minutes.
Forcing my eyes off the window, I tried to gage Hunter’s reaction to being home again, but like normal, nothing about Hunter was easy.
He looked almost uncomfortable, shifting in his seat, until he pulled out his phone to text someone. There was no name, only emojis—one of a baby and an angel, making whoever it was seem important. Hunter never mentioned home, family, or anyone important, except Layla. I wouldn't even know he had friends if they didn't text him after he fell asleep and my nosy ass couldn’t seem to mind my business.
“Are we staying with your parents?”
“No.”
He didn't look up from letting his fingers tap the screen in response to a gray bubble floating on his screen.
“Will we see them since you're here?”
“No.”
Every time he said no to me it got chillier.
We pulled up to a hotel that seemed similar to the last, only now we were in another state this time. It was assaulting my internal clock to know a few hours ago we were in LA, and now we were in yet another time zone.
The goons waited an extra minute to pull away from the curb this time. I don't know why that triggered something in me as odd, but it did. Everything about this trip made me uneasy, like I was waiting for the shoe to drop.
Men who carry guns are collateral damage.
I was all for new experiences, but the ones being offered up didn’t feel good; these kinds of experiences were life changing. You couldn’t just wield a gun and be arm candy to a very successful drug dealer, then forget about your reckless youth. These experiences were going to force you to cut pieces of yourself off and grow new ones in its place, changing you forever.
We weren’t even in the hotel room twenty minutes when Hunter abruptly announced he was leaving. I was tying my swimsuit straps around my neck, and he didn’t glance over once. I knew he was still pissed at me, but there I was, dangling my assets in his face, hoping it made everything better.
Hunter was immune to that kind of charm, and that was what I loved about him. He demanded authenticity that I avoided my whole life. He demanded I be myself, and everything else he was going to ignore – like he knew what was the “real” me better than I did myself.
He probably did. His bullshit detector was unmatched.
I watched him walk out the door, and the familiar feeling of missing him before was gone got lodged in my throat, forcing me quiet. He was always at a distance—close enough to feel his presence, but far away enough to miss.
I was a lot of things for Hunter: admirer, slut, conviction, burning hope. The one thing I wanted to be, and wasn’t, was his.
Hunter
Florida
Florida was something you don’t get out of your veins by moving somewhere else. It stays with you, taunting you; until you admit you miss it.
I hadn’t seen my little sister since I fled for college in New York then fled Columbia for Amherst. I was always trying to find home.
She was a junior in high school now and probably looked nothing like I remembered. She was the lanky, fun loving, soccer star who stayed clear of both our parents in favor of me. Every time I was yanked to juvie for bullshit reasons, like ending a fight I didn’t start, protecting those who couldn’t protect themselves, and doing what I thought was right, I left my sister to fend for herself. Every time I came back, we built more distance between us, until I finally left for college.
Now our relationship was reduced to texts updating each other on life without actually talking.
I was back to Florida for the first time since college ended, only ever coming back for one holiday break and after that I stopped bothering. My mere presence liked to set off friction with my dear old dad, spreading to my mom, and eventually all limbs of our fucked up family.
Layla was a good distraction. She loathed Florida and everything in it, so it made taking on how she felt easy.
My Mustang rental stopped in front of my mom’s house and I lit up a joint, not ready to walk down the small path to her door. She was the women who couldn’t take having me and my trouble around, banishing me to my dad’s circus of a fucking home with his child bride.
The house looked perfect still, with a white picket fence and manicured lawn that kept up with her neighbors. All the perfect I smudged with my angst. I knocked on the door lightly, almost hoping no one would here or be home. With no such luck, I heard the door unlock, and some guy was taking up the space of the doorway. He was at least six feet tall, strong muscles, no scruff or beard, and a kind of tan that made Addi pop into my mind at an inconvenient time.
I studied him, unwilling to draw any conclusions. He didn't look old enough to be dating my mom, and he looked way too old to be dating my sister.
“Who the hell are you?”
The man looked offended, his face frowning like I just said hail Satan instead. My sister must have heard me, because she came running through the doors and into my arms, like no time had passed at all. I squeezed her against my chest, taking in how much she wasn't my baby sister anymore. No, this girl was on the verge of being an adult.
She didn't let go, as she asked what I was doing here.
Off limits.
“Just visiting quick. Who the hell is this guy? Dating older guys?” There she was again, Addi, popping into my mind again.
She glanced behind her, checking if he was still watching our exchange, and he was. “Mom’s fiancé. They're getting married in September.”
I guess being banished means not being privy to information. I am her son after all, but even that's a title you have to earn, not given.
Sam dragged me inside by the hand, pushing past the fiancé I never heard of until now. At least the inside was the same, minus the new guy lurking around us, just as skeptical of me as I was of him. She moved around the kitchen, grabbing two bowls, cereal, and milk. She smiled at me, and I knew exactly what she was doing. She was forcing me to relive her favorite memory. Our mom worked more than she ever had to and poured into bed around the same time we got up for school, leaving me to be the one taking care of Sam.
I didn't have many skills in that department, so it normally started with cereal and ended with take out.
The fiancé shouted my mom’s name up the stairs, and every part of my body tensed, holding every emotion still in my muscles. If I held onto it long enough, maybe I'd finally actualize it and get over it.