I sent Jackson a text on our way here. He should be arriving any minute now to grab his keys. I have no interest in seeing him, but it would be a dick move not to give them back. Despite his flaws he did come through for me when
I needed a ride and was in a jam.
“Do you want these dishes, or you want to wait and pick out new?” Beni holds up the cheap floral pattern dishware I bought from a thrift shop.
“Leave it. It’ll be fun to shop together.” The idea of making a home together is exciting.
“All right. I’m gonna start putting some of these boxes in your trunk.”
“Thank you.” I kiss his cheek and hand him my keys.
He starts out the door when I hear, “Who the fuck are you?” Jackson. I may have forgotten to mention to him that I’m married, and my husband would be present.
Oops.
I glance toward the door to see Jackson shoving his way past my man. Oh shit. Not good.
“Hazel,” he shouts. “What the hell? Who is this dude?”
“Jackson, hi. I have your keys, but um, yeah. Meet my husband, Benicio.”
He glances back at my man. “You’re with a biker?”
“Yup.”
“Since when?”
“Listen, bud. Get that you’re hella confused but it doesn’t matter. My Ol’ Lady ain’t gotta explain herself to you, so get your keys and get the fuck out,” my bad ass biker hubby warns him.
“Your Ol’ Lady ain’t nothing but a stripper and a whore.”
At that Holy comes out and pops Jackson right in the mouth with his fist. “Don’t ever insult my wife.”
“The fuck, man?” Jackson rubs his mouth. “You hit me?”
“One more word about Hazel, and I’ll do a lot worse.”
“Fucking bullshit.” He snatches his keys from my outstretched hand and stomps out.
“That went well.”
“I’m gonna take this on out and make sure that stupid fuck leaves.”
“I’ll try Crystal one more time.” I sent her a text, but she never messaged me back whether or not she could make it. I put my phone down and finish sorting through the last of my clothes. More than a few minutes have passed. I have the last of my stuff ready to pack into the car. I’m about to go looking for Benicio when he walks in acting strange. He’s stiff.
“Hey.”
“Want to tell me why there’s two bundles of heroin in the trunk of your car?”
“What? Are you crazy?”
He shakes his head. “You sell it? For Crystal and ol’ boy? Be straight with me. You use?”
“No. You really think I’d be that stupid? You think I’d shoot my veins with poison?” I sit down to get a grip on my temper. “You need to think about the next words that come out of your mouth.”
“Tell me how it got there then.” He folds his arms over his chest.
“I don’t appreciate the tone you’re taking with me.”