Floating (16 page)

Fuck I hope she’s not considering any kind of sexual relationship. Actually, I hope she’s not considering bartering any kind of relationship for her and me, in exchange for visitation of my son. You’ll sooner see me tell my dad he was an awesome fucking parent before I agree to that shit.

“Spit it out, Verity. No games, tell me what it is you want.”

With a vicious smile planted on her face, she says, “I want you to spend three months of uninterrupted time with your son. No distractions, nothing to get in the way of the two of you getting to know each other.” This sounds far too easy. I’m waiting for the hammer to fall. I don’t have to wait long either, merely a breath. “That means no Veronica. I don’t want her confusing Kellen or upsetting him. He seems to believe she’s the reason he hasn’t had contact with you before now. Before you say it, no I didn’t tell him that was why you weren’t in his life. My parents told him stories about Veronica and young love gone wrong when he was about five. Why they told him that shit I can’t tell you, but he got curious, and they told him your name in conjunction with her story. I’m relatively sure they weren’t aware he already knew your name and that you’re his father. He put it together, and has been under the assumption Veronica was stopping you from seeing him ever since.”

Fuck my life…

Give up Ronnie for three months? I don’t fucking think so. This bitch is seriously warped if she thinks that’s going to happen. What am I saying? I know the bitch is insane. No question about it she is certi-fucking-fiable. I promised Ronnie only fifteen-minutes ago, two days to herself to get her shit together then I’m bringing her home. There’s not a chance she is going to understand this. Hell, I don’t understand it.

Verity’s request doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. I’m perfectly capable of spending time with my son, getting to know him, learning how to be a father to him, and have Ronnie in my life at the same time. I’m not saying this parenting gig is easy, I’m sure it’s not, but I assume it will make it easier having another adult in the house to help out.  This isn’t about Verity putting my son and his needs first. There is an undercurrent of malice intended for one person, and one person alone. Ronnie. Why Verity feels the need to hurt her sister, any more than she already has, blows my fucking mind. Rest assured after the scene Ronnie and I had earlier, Verity damn well knows this will hurt Ronnie. True to form, she did it anyway.

The worst part is, Verity will revel in this shit. She’ll soak it up like the sun, and use the power she gains from hurting Ronnie to destroy her any way she can. The answer as to why she wants to destroy her sister is simple, because she can.

Knowing all this what do you think I did?

If you guessed that I’m an asshole of EPIC proportions, you would have guessed right!

Today is the day I make a decision. One I’m sure I’ll live to regret more than any decision that came before it. One that will inevitably give me the gift of my son, but will at the same time take away my sunshine. This time it’ll be far worse than the first time Ronnie left, breaking us both in the process. This time Ronnie stayed and that makes it exponentially more horrific. This time I’ll have to watch the girl that owns my heart; that I gave every piece of my soul to wither away and become a shell of her former self.

I know with a certainty born of pain that I’ve just shattered the most precious gift I’ve ever been, or ever will be, blessed with. I love her above my mom and before my son, who I came to love with a kind of ferocity I didn’t know I was capable of. What I did to Ronnie is reprehensible. I didn’t grasp the magnitude of what I was doing at the time. I don’t know if anyone could have predicted the fallout from what I had hoped to be a temporary situation. Three-months and it’ll be done and over with. I’ll have joint legal custody of my boy. Or that’s what I thought, and for the most part it is. Everything except for the relationship between Ronnie and I, which is currently non-existent, is on track.

Verity held up her end of the bargain surprisingly. She didn’t try and negotiate for more or less, at the last minute. She never tried to initiate any kind of relationship between us, other than what was necessary to raise our son. The papers were drawn up, and delivered the day the three months expired. They were already signed by her, and ready for filing which I did AS-fucking-AP.

In a perfect world that would have been the day I would’ve gone and got my woman and brought her home permanently. Home to me and my son, who was now fully aware his aunt was the most wonderful woman to grace the earth. Home to a place she would be safe, protected, and loved for the rest of her life. That day didn’t come though. It didn’t happen the way I’d dreamed it would; the way I spent hours in my bed alone at night fantasising about. It simply didn’t come at all.

If it wasn’t for Kellen I don’t think I would have ever smiled again. My world is so much darker without Ronnie in it. My outlook is bleak and most days without hope. Getting up in the morning is a fucking chore, especially the weeks Kellen’s at his mother’s. More than once I have considered ending it all. The pain of being without her is so severe it threatens to overwhelm me, at times. I’d never be that selfish, or cowardly, though. My son needs me, my brothers love me, and Chasers definitely needs some prick that knows how to fill out the fucking paperwork.

For three months I’ve passed by Skin Fusion looking through the windows like a creeper. I see the deep purple bags under Ronnie’s eyes. The weight she’s lost, she never had any to lose in the first place, but she has, and still is fucking perfect. Exhaustion is etched all over her face and mirrored in the way she holds her body. What I never see is her beautiful laugh, or her smile, the one that lights up the room. I don’t see her go out to Mo’s, Rough Shod, even Hair Do. She goes to work, the grocery store, and occasionally stops for gas, heading straight home afterwards. That is the extent of her outings, and trust me I know. I know everywhere she goes and everything she does. I know for a damn good reason.

I watch her, follow her home, to the store, pretty much wherever she goes; I follow. I need to make sure she’s safe. I want to know she’s physically okay, although that’s in debate, at the moment. If she looses any more weight, and doesn’t start sleeping, I will need to get Kendall or Lou to have a word. Most of all, I need to make sure no one hurts or scares her. I don’t know why I torture us both by continuing this charade. Ronnie knows that I’m following her. She never looks at me in the rearview mirror or over her shoulder. She never looks at me, at all, but she knows I’m there. For my sake, I decided it’s better to see her, regardless of how badly she’s suffering, than to not see her at all. I know I’m a sick fuck, aren’t I?

It won’t be long before circumstances will end the distance, at least the geographical one, between us. The emotional distance will be an entirely different story; one that’s far more complex in my mind than it is in hers. One, that if I knew then, what I know now; I would have changed our lack of relationship immediately. I wouldn’t have waited. I wouldn’t have let her hurt for so long. Fuck that! I wouldn’t have let her hurt, at all.

Someone once said, “You don’t get over it, you get through it. It doesn’t get better; it gets different. Every day, just like me, grief puts on a new face.” I couldn’t agree more…

Every day I mask my grief: for my son, for my brothers, and for their women. It is time to take the mask off. Time to confront the woman that I’m unsure even exists anymore. The woman that is so cloaked in sadness she’s barely living.

It is time to make my woman shine again…

CHAPTER EIGHT

Veronica

                 4 months later…

Oh this day is getting even more fucked up by the second.

You know those days where you wish you could hit rewind, and not bother getting out of bed? Burrow your head under the covers and wish the day away.

Yeah, well today is one of those days…

It starts when I try to get out of bed, mind you terrifically unsuccessfully. My legs tangle in the sheets. As I go to stand, I only manage to end up crashing to the floor, hitting the side of my forehead on the bedside table. Ouch! That is, so going to leave a bruise.

My shower doesn’t go much better. Shaving my legs with, what I now know is a razor in desperate need of replacement, doesn’t turn out so hot. The back of my knees are now both covered in tiny nicks that are stinging like a bitch as they rub against the denim of my jeans.

Add to that, tripping over the chair leg in my eat-in kitchen, spilling scalding hot coffee down the front of my brand new, did I say brand new, Triumph t-shirt, and almost falling down the stairs at the back of my apartment on the way to Skin Fusion. Now, you have the start of my totally fucked up day.

I should have known then it wasn’t going to get any better. It is my lot in life after the past four months, which have pretty much sucked big fat donkey balls. I have no illusions that my life is predestined to be one clusterfuck after another.

Walking out of Mo’s and away from Arrow; I refuse to call him anything else now, was heart wrenching. Honestly, it took every ounce of strength I had left in me. That was nothing in comparison to finding out that part of his agreement with Verity, for shared custody of their son, Kellan, involved staying away from me completely for three months. Don’t get me wrong, I was over the moon Kellen will have a dad as great as Arrow in his life. Shit, I’m glad Kellen has both of his parents as an active part in his upbringing; regardless that one of them is the WW.

Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you.

One night over copious amounts of tequila, and yes I did relent on my previous decision not to commune with her, once again befriending the merciless bitch tequila. Anyway, Lou, Kendall, she didn’t commune with alcohol, being she was about to pop any second, Priss and I, renamed Verity the Wicked Whore, WW for short. Suits her don’t you think? We did.

I’ve seen Verity around town far more often than was safe for either of us, in the past few months. It isn’t safe for her because I want to plant my fist in her face. It is equally unsafe for me because I still want to plant my fist in her face, and I don’t want to risk arrest, while I’m at it. Orange just isn’t my colour. It doesn’t suit my hair or complexion.

Sometimes, she has Kellen with her, trailing behind like he’s a dog; this only makes me want to punch her harder. Sometimes she is on her own shopping or getting her hair done. Not at Hair Do, though, Lou would have shaved it all off in a show of solidarity to the sisterhood. Each and every time I see her I want to rip Kellen away from her. WW never approaches me. She doesn’t try to talk to me, for which I am glad, because well, you already know what I would do. She does smirk at me; shooting me evil looks if I’m on my own. However, if I’m with the girls, she turns on her heel and rides her wicked broom right the hell out of wherever we are, ASAP.

The times she is with Kellen, I watch her closely. Well, as closely as I can while keeping my distance. I probably look like some kind of psycho stalker, but whatever, I don’t like what I see. Actually, what I see every time I catch sight of the two of them together infuriates me. Kellen is a gorgeous little man. He’s sweet, shy, and polite from what I can pick up. The way WW drags him around if he’s too slow, making him trail behind her with his little legs rushing to follow, and the way she gets in his face snarling reprimands at him, sets my teeth on edge. At the end of the day, it isn’t my business and I have no real right to get involved. Regardless, I did speak to Tank about it. In part to clear my conscience because I would feel like the most horrible person on the planet if WW really hurt him, and in part, because I thought that Arrow has the right to know.

Now, don’t think I’m a bad person, but I did mull the last part of that reason over for a little while before talking to Tank. It isn’t fair, and I do feel bad about waiting. I just couldn’t get my head, that was telling me to speak up, and my heart, that was broken, to get on the same damn page.

A month after I witnessed the first time WW treated Kellen like shit; I cornered Tank when he was dropping Tilly off at Skin Fusion to spend the afternoon with me.

“Hey, Tank, have you got a minute?”

Ever since that day at the diner, Tank is around a hell of a lot more often. I have the sneaking suspicion Arrow asked him to keep an eye on me. Well, fuck him, and fuck Tank too, for agreeing to do it; I don’t need a babysitter. I haven’t let on to Tank that I know what he’s doing. I just became excellent at evading detection when I wanted to go somewhere that is none of their business. Not that I go anywhere interesting anyway, it’s the principle of it that counts.

Making his way over, I’m struck dumb again at the sheer size of Tank. He is a freaking mountain. A hot mountain of man muscle, but a mountain, nevertheless. If I wasn’t so convinced Priss is in love with Tank, I would like nothing more than to take a bite out of his sexy man flesh. Oh, who am I kidding? I wouldn’t do that anyway, because of the feelings I still harbour for, ‘he who can’t be named.’ Still it’s a nice thought.

Hunched over the desk, his huge tattooed forearms crossed in front of him, Tank winks at me. “Sure, sweetheart. Whatcha need?” Hmmm. That answer has so many possibilities. That sounded creepy, even in my own head. I hope I’m not projecting my thoughts right now because that would be mega embarrassing.

“Ummm, look it’s none of my business, but I thought I should let you know. You can do with the information whatever you want, but Verity doesn’t treat Kellen very well, Tank. She drags him around and speaks to him like a piece of shit. I wouldn’t be saying anything if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, more than once.”

A mask of anger slips over his face dispelling the lightness that was just there moments ago. “Have you seen her hit the boy?”

Shaking my head softly, I say, “No, nothing like that. Just pulling him around if he’s not quick enough, getting in his face, stuff like that. Maybe I sh…”

He cuts me off with a sharp shake of his head and a narrowed look. “No. You abso-fucking-lutely did the right thing by saying something, V. I’ll give Arrow the heads up and let him take care of it. You see anything else, you come to me yeah?”

Knowing there was no way I would approach Arrow over this, I’m grateful for his offer. “Yeah, of course, Tank.”

Slowly over the next couple of months, I noticed WW has Kellen with her a lot less often. Whether this is because she left him at home or not, I don’t know. That is until Kendall mentioned something to me about Arrow cutting back his hours at Chasers because he has Kellen almost full-time now.  There’s a story behind that I’m sure, and my previous self would have been beyond intrigued. Now, I just don’t have it in me to care. Bluntly put, I am all out of fucks to give.

I read this saying the other day. It gave me a giggle, and I decided right, this is what I’m going to do from now on.

                            “When life knocks you down…. calmly get back up,

                               Smile and very politely say, “You hit like a bitch””

The fighting, the struggle, all of the pain, is taking too much from me. I’m constantly exhausted, distracted, and in general a downer to be around. I’m surprised the girls haven’t evicted me from our friend group, yet. Surprisingly, the girls are here for me the same way as they’ve always been. If anything, WW’s appearance has made us even closer. She’s been a common enemy to unite against, and Lou takes great pleasure in dreaming up creative ways to fuck with WW on a daily basis. She doesn’t go through with them, it’s just to help blow off steam. But it works for her, and for us, when we hear about her inventive ways to kill her.

The bright spot, amongst all the shadows over the last few months, was when a little over three weeks ago Devil’s Spawn MC, and the rest of us, welcomed Kane Declan Marks to the big, boisterous, overprotective family he will now call his own.

Wheels, or so the guys call him; apparently because baby Kane is hell on wheels, has the same dark hair as his daddy, blue eyes like his mommy, and is absolutely delicious, he’s just that cute. Even I couldn’t help getting an ovarian shove in the childbearing direction when I held him for the first time. Kendall is a natural mother. If people hadn’t seen it with the way she is with Lexi then they would certainly see it now. The way she and Dec look at that baby is with nothing short of miraculous wonder in their eyes. Their lives took a long time to get to this point; the road was definitely not smooth sailing. I think that they both realise now, that it was worth all the trouble to have Lexi and baby Kane, in the end. I know that’s how I would feel if it were me.

When I say that was the one bright spot, that didn’t mean that there were no other small glimmers of sunshine that shine through. When they did, they are what keep me going from one day to the next.

Tilly spends a lot of time with me at Skin Fusion, while I’m working, or pretending to. She is a clever, sweet, and talented young girl that shows remarkable talent in charcoal drawing for someone her age. I have seen artists twice her fifteen-years with nothing close to the level of skill she possesses. I see a lot of the younger me in Tilly. When I originally met her, I think that’s maybe why I took to her so quickly. Tilly is reserved, a little shy, and prefers to keep to herself most of the time. That isn’t to say she’s introverted or a recluse, because she isn’t. Tilly just takes her time getting to know people, and I understand and respect that. After losing her parents, both of them at the same time, Tilly doesn’t want to become too close to people, for fear she will end up losing them, too. It’s sad, and my heart breaks for her a little, but I can see why she chose that way to cope and protect herself. So many times I’ve wanted to reassure her that it was a freak accident and things like that rarely happen. That would have been useless though. Tilly has every right to feel the way she does. I don’t think she would appreciate me trying to change her mind.

Tilly is actually the person I need to thank for re-energising my passion for painting. It has been going on almost a year since I sat down and did some serious work on canvas, until recently. After hours of teaching Tilly what I know and her begging me daily to show her my paintings, I surrendered. I took her to my studio apartment to unveil what I’ve kept covered up for months. The first paintings I did when I arrived in Blackwater were filled with hope. They showcased vibrant colours, depicted whimsical scenes hidden throughout layers of paint.

In college, my art professor called me in to talk to me about my latest piece of work, one afternoon after class. Before she began speaking I was terrified that it was awful, she hated it, or I was getting a fail. I was elated and so proud of myself after she had finished. Professor Barnes spent the entire time praising my unique skill and natural ability, going on to commend me on my use of detail. From then on I specialised in, I don’t even know what to call it, there isn’t a name for the particular type of work I do, so I just call it ‘Hidden Aspects.’

It boils down to layers and layers of acrylic based paint in two or more different colours applied to canvas. Within the layers I carve out intricate scenes depending on my mood or whatever speaks to me at the time. The scenes are carved with pottery sculpting tools. In the recesses left behind, I use miniature brushes to add colour and life with oil or water based paints.

Tilly gasped then ooh’d and ahh’d, clapping her hands excitedly over my paintings for hours, making me promise to show her how to create something like it herself. It wasn’t until she reached the opposite wall and removed the sheet covering the three vertical canvas panels that she turned to me with tears in her eyes. I knew then I was wrong to bring her here. The look on her face made me feel horrible. Her eyes were filled with tears, and the pain she was feeling radiated from her body like the heat from a fire.

Launching herself at me from across the room, Tilly hugged me tight for a long time, a very long time. It could have been hours, but I wasn’t keeping track. It was just nice to be held, even if it was by a fifteen-year-old girl that had known her fair share of suffering. Tilly took a step back eventually with her arms still around my waist and said, “He’s not gone, you know. He’s just a little lost, right now.”