We’ll have to climb up the hills we’ll be occupying, and there’ll be no easy way of leaving our posts. But we’ll also be as unnoticeable as we can be, and that’s the most important thing right now. Or should be. Though I’m not eager to face two days of no Brenda. I’m kind of dreading it, to be honest. Already the memory of her sweet, sweet lips on mine is starting to fade. I’ll need a refresh soon. I hope Blaze won’t be too annoying about me calling here once in a while.
17
Brenda
At first, I was annoyed that he just left, but then I went to sleep feeling good about the fact that he at least didn’t fuck me and leave right away.
The sun streaming through the flimsy curtain on the window woke me with the same soft feeling of being cared for properly. I’m not just a pretty piece of ass to Colt. I never thought I’d take that much comfort from knowing that. It was always the other way around for me. The prettier all those guys who thought of me as a piece of ass found me, the more I could get out of them. That was my goal for so long, from my late teens at least, that I hardly ever stopped to think what it’d be like to have genuine feelings for a guy. To genuinely care for him and care how he sees me.
I know it now. I think. And it’s like my entire body, mind, and soul are now this weird stormy place, where it’s calm and soft one moment, but then tumultuous and seething with rivers, strong currents, and gusting winds of emotions I’ve never felt this clearly before. Passion, lust, desire. Those are strong and those I know. But this soft, velvety, flowing wish to just have him in my arms as we kiss and caress each other is just as strong as those. It’s more foreign to me, but natural too.
And it all culminates in an unquenchable need for him to come to me several times a day.
The fact that I’m stuck inside a tiny motel room with a TV that has exactly five channels, none of them with good reception, makes the hours drag.
The fact that he only called for five minutes at noon to tell me he’ll be very busy for the next two days isn’t helping. Nor is the fact that he hasn’t returned any of my three calls since then.
The sun that woke me is setting now and I’ve been so restless and agitated all afternoon I’ve paced the room so much my thigh are aching.
I need him. I don’t want to need him. I’m afraid I’ll never see him again. I’m afraid it’s already started. I want him in my arms right now. I’m mad he’s making me wait.
In between all that, the soft flowing sweetness that’s this thing we share is fluid. But it’s growing fainter.
Two days?
How the fuck am I supposed to make it two days? I walk to the phone and pick up the receiver to make sure it has a dial tone. It does. Clear and loud. There’s nothing wrong with the line.
He’s just not calling.
And it’s getting dark outside.
How long am I supposed to sit here and wait for a call, a visit that might not be coming?
Forever, the soft river of sweetness is whispering to me. But I don’t believe it, I don’t trust it. I haven’t known it long enough to trust it.
At nine PM I finally realize I’m starving, because I refused to go out all day waiting for a call that never came and might never come.
Cursing myself for a stupid, naive little woman, I get dressed and stalk across the parking lot to the reception area, fully ready to take my annoyance out on the pimply kid. But the desk is manned by a plump woman in her forties. She’s wearing a flowery house dress stretched tight across her huge chest, and her permed, bright red hair is a frizzy cloud around her face.
No free pizza for me tonight, I guess.
I get the number for it from her, then, on the spur of the moment, ask how far a walk it is to it. I need to get out of the room and out of my head.
“You don’t wanna be walking along that road by yourself in the dark,” she tells me once she’s done explaining where it is. “Better have it delivered.”
“I’ve walked darker roads,” I tell her and leave.
It’s not a lie, literally or figuratively speaking. And the one I’m walking on now, this path of sweet surrender Colt is leading me down might be the darkest yet. Scarier than any deserted country road. Especially if I end up crashing into a wall at the end of it. The wall of never seeing him again because it was all just in my head.
Colt
The spot me and Blaze chose as our lookout offers a great view of practically the whole town, but it’s basically just a narrow space between two large rocks, only wide enough for the two of us to lie down and not much else. The rest of the terrain is bare, unless you count the thick, knee-high thorny shrubs that seem to love growing here.
The town below is bursting with people. I doubt it was ever this full, not even in its heyday. I’m guessing it’s all the remaining members, along with all the club whores and most of the wives and children to boot. The most exciting thing that happened was a short curly-haired woman dragging the tall, willowy redhead from one of the buildings along the main street by the hair, she proceeded to yell and scream to her about keeping her filthy hands off her husband while kicking her and pulling on her hair some more for a good ten minutes before the guys finally managed to pull them apart.
I was gonna make a second phone call to Brenda after that, before Blaze so very unhelpfully pointed out that if we could clearly hear what those two women were yelling at each other down here, they’ll probably hear my lovey whisperings down there too. I hated the fact that he was right.
It’s full dark now, and most of the houses below are fully lit up. All hundred and eighteen buildings down there—I know, because I counted them four times while I was bored out of my mind all afternoon—are lit up, so it’s like a lake of yellow light down there. Music, shouting, and laughter are coming from the building that was the site of the chick fight before, so that’s gotta be the new bar. By my rough count, there’s gotta be at least fifty MC members and most of the club whores in there now.
The house on the hill is mostly dark, only the lower windows on one side lit up. Snake has been in and out three times today and has had at least ten different visitors. He’s acting as their leader, there’s no doubt about that, but if there’s a chain of command under him, I haven’t been able to spot it.
“I think Ace should take extra care to confirm that all the guys down there are actually Sinners,” I say very quietly, but not in a whisper because whispers carry better. “Or maybe we could get Brenda up here and she can do it. She probably knows them better. She might even know some of the wives and she certainly knows all the whores.”
I can barely make out Blaze’s face in the darkness, but I clearly see him rolling his eyes at me. “You just want that girlfriend of yours up here. I’m sure Ace has his orders and I’m sure Cross is way ahead of you on coming up with them.”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” I say, ignoring the rest and grinning. “But I want her to be.”
“Dude, you fall for women too easily, and you’re always disappointed in the end. Watch out with this one, she’s been around the block and she knows what’s what,” Blaze says.
“She hasn’t been around this block,” I say, meaning myself, and it’s a pretty lame thing to say, overall. Leave it to Blaze to put his finger on the exact spot that’s been nagging me for the past two days.