THE OUTLAW’S BRIDE Page 11

  Still, I would have liked to take him. With Trey, I bet we could do it easily. Trey’s house spoke of money, and even though I didn’t want any handouts, I had a feeling he’d start spoiling Chuckie as much as he possibly could. And that would probably include a vacation to Disneyland. I couldn’t help but grin when I thought of it. I thought of how Trey and I would hold hands in the airport, on the plane. I thought of Chuckie racing excitedly ahead of us towards the entrance, swinging his arms and making my heart race with the giddiness of it all. For a long time, I didn’t feel like I’d deserved to be happy. But now I almost felt like I was getting a second chance. A second chance at everything: Trey, happiness, Chuckie’s childhood. Life.

  I knew I shouldn’t think like this, but it was so tempting. In Trey’s house, enveloped in his scent of leather and sandalwood, I felt like a new woman. It was like I’d already forgotten about all of the bad things in my life. All of the debt, all of the problems. It was easy to just pretend like none of that had happened. And that was probably the most dangerous thing of all.

  I didn’t think I’d changed much in the years since I’d been with Trey, but that probably wasn’t true. After all, I wasn’t the same girl I’d been when I was living with Mom and Daddy. For one thing, I no longer counted on having a set future. I knew things could change in an instant, and I learned to expect the unexpected. Everything had been different than I’d been expecting, and the changes had come almost immediately.

  Mom and Daddy had thrown me out when they’d found out about the baby. Well, they hadn’t exactly thrown me out because of the baby. They’d thrown me out because I refused to have an abortion. Even though I was theoretically pro-choice, the idea of getting rid of something in my body was abhorrent. Especially because it was the last little remnant of Trey that I had, clover pendant aside. I’d had nowhere to go, and I’d been completely clueless about what I’d need to survive in the real world. Even when I’d traveled with Mom and Daddy, the help had always packed my bags. I didn’t even know what to bring with me on a weekend getaway, much less an actual lifetime of being away. When I’d left home, I’d brought the things I thought I could sell, like clothes and jewelry. But even that had been difficult. I’d found a pawnshop out of town and tried to get rid of some diamond jewelry Daddy had given me on my sixteenth birthday. But the guy at the pawnshop very obviously thought I was selling stolen goods. He didn’t listen to me when I told him they’d been gifts from my parents, especially after I’d begged him not to call Daddy and tell him where I was. When he called the cops, I barely escaped with what I’d brought in.

  I wound up selling the jewelry in the back alleys of the nearest city, for much less than all of the items were worth. One of the downsides of growing up rich was that, for a long time, I’d really had no understanding of how money worked. I didn’t know if a hundred dollars was a lot or a little. Unlike a lot of other wealthy kids I’d known, I’d never carried cash. I had a credit card, and if I wanted something else I had Mom’s personal shopper get it for me. When I finally started using money, I couldn’t believe how much of it was allocated to different things. I couldn’t believe how expensive certain foods were; it made me regretful of all the years I turned down my nose at Daddy’s caviar and quail eggs. Daddy had used to love a dish made with avocado, crabmeat, and caviar, and sometimes I still craved the taste. When I’d gone to the store looking for ingredients, the manager had looked at me like I was crazy when I’d asked for caviar.

  And raising Chuckie alone had been something else altogether. Now, more than anything else, I regretted not trying to find Trey and letting him know he had a son. I felt so guilty. I’d always thought I was doing the right thing, trying to protect my son, but now I realized I’d basically crippled him. It would have been better for Trey to know and choose not to be involved. Hell, now he’d probably choose that anyway. A flash of pain flickered through my body and I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I wanted Trey to step up to his responsibilities more than ever, but what if he didn’t? What if he couldn’t forgive me? What if he never wanted to be a part of a family with Chuckie and me? It was unlikely, but possible. I hated to realize it, but I would understand if Trey never wanted to be involved with me again. After all, I couldn’t imagine the shock of discovering an ex with a child, only to find out that the child was yours. Just thinking about it hurt my chest. I’d been trying to do the right thing, but it hadn’t ever worked. And now, I felt worse about my choices than ever before.

  Chuckie shifted in bed and stretched one of his skinny arms out of the blankets. I felt the love swell up in my heart as I watched him settle back in bed. I’ll make sure you finally get a family, I promised him silently.

  With renewed enthusiasm, I stood up and stretched. It was late, but somehow I had a feeling Trey wasn’t asleep yet. I thought I’d heard him walk down the hallway a while ago, but I couldn’t be sure. Besides, I’d been so deep in thought that it had been difficult to pay attention to what was really happening. My body was a mix of confusing emotions: desire, anger, betrayal, anxiety, love. I couldn’t shake the feeling of déjà vu, even though it had been almost ten years since I’d been around Trey. That was the funniest thing of all to me, that we’d been around each other for so long and never realized it. I’d never left Centerville. Had Trey? Had he left for a long time and recently come back? Trying to piece together how we’d somehow managed to avoid each other in the smallest of small towns was enough to make my head ache.

  I looked at Chuckie. He was sound asleep; he wouldn’t notice if I slipped out for a little while. Or, at least, I wanted to believe that it would be fine. I knew if he woke up and I wasn’t there, he’d probably freak out. But I had to do this. I had to talk to Trey.

  Letting myself out into the hallway, I closed the door behind me with a soft click. I could barely hear Chuckie’s soft snores after the lock was turned. I heard voices in the hallway and I tensed. It was Trey, and that other big thug he’d had watch me when he went out. I giggled nervously; I hadn’t seen the guy since I’d escaped from under his nose. I hoped he wouldn’t hold a grudge, even though I kind of deserved it.

  “Trey?” I called his name softly and rapped my knuckles on the kitchen doorframe.

  Trey looked up at me with a lazy grin on his face. His skin was flushed and there was a bottle of beer in his hand. The table was covered with empty bottles and the thick miasma of cigarette smoke hung in the air. I stifled the urge to stamp my foot. I couldn’t believe he could throw me out of bed and then just go drink with his buddy like nothing had happened! Breathe, I told myself. Stay calm. This is a big deal, maybe wait until he’s sober. He’s probably not going to understand right now.

  “Yeah?” Trey gave me a cocky grin. He winked at me and I felt my insides slither and slosh around in my body. “Can I help you, Angel?”

  I flushed deep red all over. This wasn’t going like I’d imagined, not at all. “Can I talk to you?”

  “Sure,” Trey said. He winked at me again and stretched out, sprawling out in his chair like a wild grizzly bear of a man. “What can I do for you?”

  The other biker, Ram, turned his face to me and smiled. He didn’t move, and I felt a wave of irritation fly through my body.

  “Alone?” I pointed towards the door. “Do you mind?”

  “Oh, sorry, ma’am,” Ram said.

  I blushed when he called me ‘ma’am,’ and I almost corrected him, but I didn’t want to come off as even more of a fussy old lady.

  “It’s fine,” Trey said. He turned his lazy grin towards Ram. “Whatever Angel has to say, she can say it in front of you.”

  I blinked. “No, I can’t,” I said sharply. “Please, Ram. Just give us five minutes.”

  Ram looked embarrassed as he got to his feet and shuffled out of the room. I sat down at the table and the beer bottles rattled and shook.

  “So,” Trey said. He folded his hands on top of the table and stared at me. “What do you wanna talk about?”

&
nbsp; “Our son,” I said softly. “And our life. And our future.”

  Trey shook his head. “You’re bringing that shit up again?” He didn’t wait for me to answer before continuing, “You know I don’t have anything to say about that, Angel. That was a long time ago and done now. Past is past, you know.”

  “I don’t know,” I said in the same soft voice. Frustration welled up in me and I blinked back tears, stamping my foot on the clean linoleum floor. “You’re not listening to me, Trey. I’m sorry about everything, but I want to move past that. You have a family now. You’re a father.”

  Trey stood up before I could protest. He stretched up and I averted my eyes away from his taut, muscular torso. “This ain’t no good to talk about right now,” he said. “You get that, Angel? We can’t talk about this right now.”

  “Well, when can we?” I whirled around in my chair and stared him down, my eyes blazing in their sockets. “I’m sick of you brushing me off.”

  Trey blinked. He shook his head. “Angel, this isn’t gonna work,” he said softly. For a moment, it sounded like all the cockiness and all the fight had gone out of him. “We’re gonna have to deal with this later.”

  Before I could argue, he left the room. I heard him and Ram talking in hushed tones in the other room. I couldn’t even feel ashamed thinking about Ram hearing us — I didn’t even care. My heart felt like it had been ripped out of my chest all over again, just like before. Everything would be just like before: Trey would leave and I’d never see him again. Anger and sadness welled up in me and I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t start crying. Why? Why did he need so much time? Couldn’t he see I meant it, that I loved him? That I’d never wanted to let him go?

  I stared at the whorls on the wooden table. It was roughly hewn and unvarnished, but with a smooth sheen. If I hadn’t known better, I’d think Trey had carved it himself. I ran my hands over the soft wood and closed my eyes. I couldn’t be alone again; there was no way that would happen. I remembered how I’d felt while pregnant: alienated, alone, too giant for a world that didn’t want me. Just like my body was changing, so was my status in the world. I went from someone who could buy the entire inventory of a shop in ten minutes to someone who was scrounging for pennies to buy food off the dollar menu at McDonald’s. Shame had a distinct taste, like soap. I never wanted to taste it again. I never wanted to wake up with my stomach feeling as empty as a squeezed-out tube of toothpaste. I never wanted Chuckie to cry because he wanted more milk and all I could afford was water.

  I couldn’t stand another year of sitting in my car and crying at that spot just outside of town. It would kill me; I’d die of loneliness. I didn’t ever want to have to explain to Chuckie just who Trey was…and why he wasn’t around. It would hurt him so much. It wasn’t just me who I had to think about now, there was Chuckie, too. If I made another mistake like the first one, he could be miserable and unhappy for the rest of his life.

  On bad days, one of the only things that kept me going was my son. If he were to cut off contact with me as an adult because I hadn’t raised him with a father, it would break my heart. Then I really wouldn’t have a reason to live. I thought about myself, old and alone in some state-sponsored nursing home. I’d be covered in spittle and drool and lumpy blankets the color of old gym socks. Chuckie wouldn’t come visit, no one would. Because I’d have no family, and it would all be my fault.

  I set my lips in a thin line and prayed for Trey to come to his senses. I need you now, I thought. More than ever before. Don’t you see that?

  Chapter 15

  Trey

  That night, I could barely sleep. I kept thinking of Angel and wondering if she was turning and twisting in her bed the same way I was in mine. It was torture knowing she was only a few rooms away. What was I supposed to do? How was I supposed to act, knowing she was so close but so far? I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was my fault. But whenever I started feeling sorry for her, some of the anger came back. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe her now when she said things like she wanted to be with me forever, or that she loved me. It was that I was worried. She had said those same things, many times, and then she’d left. I hadn’t ever heard from her again. She didn’t even have the consideration to break up with me to my face.

  It had all started the morning after Angel’s eighteenth birthday.

  “Trey,” my mother barked from the kitchen. As usual, she was perched on a stool with a cigarette dangling from her hand, her fingers stained yellow with nicotine at the tips. “Where the hell have you been?”

  I ran a hand through my hair and looked at the floor. I had a bad feeling, ever since I’d woken up. After I’d dropped Angel off at home, I’d driven around for hours. Even though we’d parted on terms like that before, there was something in the air that had felt final. I couldn’t believe the look her father had given me. It wasn’t quite one of conquest, but more like one of…pity. I hadn’t quite understood last night, but now an inkling of something darker was forming in my brain. Somehow, he must have felt for me. But why? What was going on?

  “I’ve been home,” I said flatly. “Didn’t you hear me? I got in around five in the morning.” It was true. After I’d almost run out of gas, I ambled home and lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling. I saw Angel’s face in every whorl of plaster, every chipped bit of surface in my room. The hold Angel had on me scared me. It was enough to make me change my life, change everything I’d ever done.

  Mom looked at me with a blank expression on her pasty, doughy face. “Whatever you say, boy,” she said, blowing a plume of smoke at the ceiling.

  I was a few feet away but I could smell the booze on her breath like she’d just finished drinking. I shuddered. Mom had tried when I’d been a little kid, but not anymore. She’d about given up. I wondered if things would be different if my dad had been around, but probably not. Mom wasn’t the kind of person who could stand up to various stressors. She just didn’t have it in her. She couldn’t hold down a job for more than a month at a time, and she buckled under the slightest pressure. I felt bad sometimes, like it was my fault. But looking into Mom’s dead eyes, I could barely see the person behind the muddy-colored irises. She was like a shell, a husk of the woman she’d once been.

  “I’m going out,” I told her. Even if she tried to stop me, it wouldn’t work. Just as I expected, when I got to the door, I heard her weak cries of protest. “Mom, this is important,” I said, my hand on the knob as I turned around to face her. “I have to do something, just for me this time.”

  “Everything you do is for you,” she replied, catching me off-guard. “You men are so selfish; you don’t even think about how much we suffer for you.”

  When she was drinking, Mom was prone to these bouts of “wisdom.” But much like the look Angel’s father had given me last night, there was something different, something unsettling about her words this time.

  “If you picked now to start lecturing me, this isn’t the best time,” I told her. “I’ll be back later.”

  This time, Mom was silent. She stared at me with glassy eyes and kept her dry lips closed. The silence in the room was palpable, awkward. Finally, I shrugged it off and walked outside. The day was clear, chillier than I’d expected. The sunlight was harsh against my face. I’d gotten maybe three hours of sleep. I knew I had to get to Angel, had to hear her reassurance. I had to make sure things would be okay. Even if this summer was rough, I’d be with her in the fall. I was already planning to move to her college town and surprise her with a ring at Christmas. I even had one picked out — it was yellow gold, with a small round diamond. On the inside of the band I had a four-leaf clover stamped into the gold, to match the pendant I’d given her. She didn’t know yet, at least I didn’t think she suspected. I was dying to give it to her now, but I knew I had to wait until she was at least a little bit out of her parents’ clutches.

  The drive to Angel’s house was torturous and long. Traffic was slow and I beat my fist against the steering wheel, m
ore conscious than ever of my ripped shirt and grease-stained pants. It occurred to me too late that I should have changed, or even stopped to buy some new clothes on the way.

  “Why are you so nervous?” My voice sounded hoarse, boyish, aloud in the car. I looked at myself in the rearview mirror — my eyes were wide, scared. There was perspiration on my forehead and I could see I was shaking. As I shifted in my seat, a gust of sweaty odor came up to meet me. I cracked a grin. At least I was still cocky as ever: going to win my high-class girlfriend when I looked like shit. Angel knew I didn’t care about impressing her, but sometimes I still felt like I should try. After all, I was the luckiest guy in the world. I had the hottest girl I’d ever seen. So what if we’d had a bad night? We still loved each other just as much as ever. Right?