I’ve upset her. Her voice is quivering in her frustration with me and I want to calm her down but she keeps zig-zagging around the room, pretending to tidy the place.
“I’ll grab a motel.”
“With what money?”
I look at the cash register on the bar without even thinking. Lucy must see me because she walks back to me and knocks a fist on the table in front of me. “Don’t even think about it!”
“What? I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re a thief. Is that who you are?”
“Woah, jeez. I fuckin’ glanced over there. Get outta here with that bullshit.”
“No.”
“I ain’t gonna steal from you.”
“What’s your name?” Lucy says, ignoring what I said. “Your full name, Landon. What is it?”
“Really? We’re doing this again? I. Don’t. Know.”
“Try. We’re gonna play a game. I ask you questions and you answer them as quickly as you can. Got it? So, what’s your full name, Landon?”
“I don’t—”
“Landon, what’s your name?”
“Ask a different fucking question,” I say.
Her expression suggests she’s not impressed. “Where were you born?”
“Portland.”
“What color is your hair?”
“Dark blonde.”
“Faster. How old are you?”
“Twenty six.”
“Wrong. How old are you?”
“Wait, wait, wait one sec—”
“—How old are you, Landon?” she interjects forcefully.
“Twenty eight?”
“How old are you, Landon?”
“Fuck, I don’t know?”
“Goddammit.” Lucy slaps her palm to the table. “What’s your girlfriend’s name?”
“Mia.”
“Where is she from?”
“Ohio.”
“Ohio?”
“I guess? I’m answering fast. I don’t—”
“What’s your favorite color?”
“Forest green.” I smile. She seethes.
“What’d you wanna be when you grew up?”
“Uh…”
“Faster!”
“I don’t know.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-nine.” That one comes out easier, automatically almost.
“What’s your club’s name?”
“Devil’s Dragons,” my mouth answers before my mind has even had a chance to think. Lucy pauses her interrogation. She raises an eyebrow to me and bites her lip. “You remember your club?”
I stand up to take a second.
“Landon, is that the club’s name?”
“Yeah, guess your aggressive methods work,” I say. “Lets take a break though because you’re giving me a fucking migraine.”
I collect my leather jacket, checking the pockets again for my wallet. I’ve got to get out of here. I look at the Devil’s Dragons emblem on my cut again and flip it over. There are some patches missing on the front of it too. Bits of my memory were clicking together. This was bad fucking news… There’s only a few ways out of a club. You either die, retire, or you go out in bad standings. You don’t lose your patch unless you’re out bad.
“What’s wrong?” Lucy asks, noticing my hesitation.
“Nothing sweetheart, just trying to remember,” I reply, my hand sweeping across something solid beneath the leather. I flip the jacket open and reach into the pocket, pulling out a small matchbook.
Big Sal’s, Jethrow, Northern California, it reads, with a small image of a naked woman.
“What’s that?”
“Matches from some bar. Y’ever heard of Jethrow?”
“Jethrow? You remember Jethrow?”
As soon as she says the words, an image appears in my mind; A slow fog of recognition rolling into my conscience. There’s a road with a few mom and pop stores, and the inside of a bar but there’s a lingering feeling that this memory is wrong. I feel uneasy.
“Landon?”
“I’m gonna need a minute,” I reply, closing my eyes and rubbing my temples. The pounding ache is killing me.
Lucy inspects her watch then collects her belongings. “Billie’s gonna be here soon. We should go back to my place. Relax on the way.”
I have to go with her. It’s my only option. When I’m at Lucy’s, I can sort out a ride to this bar and see if it jogs my memory…
Chapter 6
Only when guests other than Billie arrive do I become aware of how much a pig-sty my place is. It represents my mental state— With clothing, art supplies, and various other miscellaneous items of a young woman strewn across the squeaky floorboards. I ask Landon to wait outside a minute while I do a quick walk through, kicking things out of the way.
But first, I make damn sure to hide a photograph of the both of us taken back in our junior year of high school that usually lies in my bedside drawer. I give myself a minute to trace a finger over a much younger, brighter us on the bleachers at a school rally. Landon is clean shaven, his hair is short and he’s smiling so wide his cheeks dimple. I’m wrapped tightly in his arms, with my dyed-black hair, scene makeup and lip piercing that’s creased into my duck-face pout. Tears clot my throat and I cough them back down. For now, I stash the sun-bleached photo into the vegetable drawer of my refrigerator under some wilting lettuce, assuming that’s a place Landon won’t peruse.
I carry on, opening my curtains and letting in some light. Why am I so embarrassed by my state of living? This is Landon. My Landon. He doesn’t need this place to be spotless… but I still feel an obligation to present myself well.
I peek at him through the window beside the front door. He exhales, holding his forehead in his hand. I can almost feel him thinking… Remembering… If I could just keep him here long enough, maybe he would remember me.
But do I really want that?
Nothing makes sense since he crashed into my life. His presence has shaken up the snow globe of my boring existence, unsettling the particles of my new life. I’m taking a big risk letting him stay here. For the first time since moving to Baddock, I have no control over my situation and my hands haven’t stopped sweating since his arrival.
The bathroom door opens. Babeen shows his flat, chubby face.
“What are you doing in there, silly kitty?”
I walk to close the door again then realize I haven’t taken my medicine today. Babeen revs a loud purr. “Yeah, yeah. I’m taking them.” I quickly fill up my palm with my prescriptions and move back to the main room. But when I walk in there with my palm cupped to my mouth, Landon is in my living room. The pills clog in my throat. I gag unbecomingly. It doesn’t help that he’s standing there watching me with an amused smirk. I wretch some more.
“Shit, are you okay?” He realizes I’m actually choking and runs to my aid. I can’t answer as the pills spill out of my mouth with a clatter into my kitchen sink. Bitter remnants tinge in my throat. I don’t want him to see me like this but it’s too late now.
“You trying to kill yourself?”
“I told you to wait outside.”
“It started raining. You want me to get you some water?”
“No, go away. Don’t look at me like this. Go make yourself at home. Feel free to kick the cat off the sofa.”
I remain hunched over the sink, keeping an eye on Landon as he approaches sleepy Babeen.
“Hey, little man. You’re a cute lump aren’t ya?” He scratches Babeen behind his ear causing his shiny head to press further into Landon’s palm.
“I’ll be right back,” I say.
In the bathroom, I make my second attempt at swallowing some new pills. They go down successfully and I relax a little knowing their effects will kick in soon. They soften my paranoia and anxiety to a point of welcomed numbness I’ve missed since yesterday.
“Everything okay in there?” Landon knocks on the door.
“Yeah.”
But
is it? What am I supposed to do now? My soulmate’s sitting out there on my sofa right now and he doesn’t even know it. What options do I have? I can’t leave with Landon back to Jethrow. That cesspit of crime and deadbeats. If he was still connected to Jethrow that meant he was still connected with his MC.
And Mac… The MC President…
Not only would I never step foot back in that place but anytime I think about leaving Baddock, I freak out. This is my safe zone. I don’t leave. I could Misery him, maybe? Lock him to my bed until he remembers how much he loves me…