Page 49 of Rox

“Can youpleasestop beating up the man I can see myself marrying?”

“Listen, I said we’re changing, but that is something that will never go away. I will defend you until the day I die. No matter who it is. But, yes, I can stop…for now.”

“Dad!” I exclaim, laughing at him and his insanely protective side, just like Max.

I have found a man like my father.

“Okay, okay, yes. I’m sorry about that, and I’ll talk with him at some point. I admit it’s hard to see reason when it involves you kids or your mother. But marry? Really?” It’s Dad’s turn to lean back in the booth and look away into space. It’s like it finally hit him that I grew up and am ready to have someone else take care of me.

“It’s like how you knew when you met Mom. He’s to me what she’s to you. I’m just not gonna have twelve kids because I’ll have zero.” I laugh, then movement at the window catches my eye, and I stop. Mark is running across the street away from the diner and jumping in a car I’ve seen around more than once. “Holy shit,” I mutter when clarity hits me.

“What?” Dad’s hackles raise, and he is on red alert. He turns to see the car pull away, and we both follow it with our eyes until it’s out of sight.

“I know who is stalking me,” I mutter.

Twenty Four

Mimic

“What the fuck?!” I sputter, shooting up from my place on the couch.

I whip my head around, launching the cool water droplets from my hair and face all around me before my eyes land on her. The look on her face strikes more fear in my heart than the night I spent in the ring with Prez.

“You were here to sober up. Get your shit together. FOR ONE NIGHT!” Mama Judy yells at me, causing my head to throb. “Yet here we are, god knows how many days later, and Gene has poured your ass into my house again to have you sleep it off here rather than confront your emotions and talk to your woman.”

Who the fuck is Gene?I think when I hear a loud slurp from someone. I look to the right and see Omen standing there, leaning on the doorway. He watches his Ol’ Lady give me a verbal ass-kicking to match my physical one.

“Sober up and get off my couch. You’re starting to make it smell like impure thoughts and desperation.” She huffs at me.

“Those smells are from someone else’s desperation and impure thoughts,” Omen says with a soft chuckle.

I jump off the couch so fast that I actually feel dizzy from the sudden movements. “You’re about to join his ass in the gutter because you can’t read the room,Eugene.” Mama spits at him before turning back to me. “You think you love her—”

“—I know I love her!”

“I call so much bullshit. It’s no wonder you smell like shit, that’s all you can spew these days. If you loved her, you would be there talking to her. Working out whatever trivial fucking fight this is. Talk to her. Work it out! And get off my couch!” Again, I look over to Omen for some help. He takes another loud sip of his coffee and puts his free hand up as if to say ‘naw man, not my monkey, not my circus.’

“What happened?” I ask, feeling my face to see that it’s not just water running down my face but also more blood.

“Ugh,” Mama Judy mumbles before spinning on her heels to look at Omen. “You brought the stray home. You take care of it. I’ve said my piece.” She gives Omen a soft slap on the face and then a hard kiss before leaving us alone in the room.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Omen asks once his Ol’ Lady shuts the door.

“I remember never knowing your real name is Eugene,” I rub my face, trying to get some bearing.

I hear movement, and the next thing I know, I’m getting a smack along the back of the head.

“Never call me that in public, or Prez and Roxie will be the last of your worries.”

“Sorry,” I mumble, seeing stars behind my eyes. “The last thing I remember is Prez punching out my lights in the clubhouse because I opened my drunk fucking mouth.”

“Then we dragged your ass to the ring, and you went a couple of rounds with the Demon. You opened your mouth again,decided that wasn’t enough, and got your clock cleanedagain. You have been drinking to feel nothing and hiding from the pain of what I am sure is about three facial fractures, a few broken ribs, as well as all the emotional damage. Both actual and that of your own making.” He takes another loud slurp of his coffee, which is starting to get on my nerves. “Sit down, son.”

The softness of his tone catches me off guard, but I sit on the very edge of the wet couch. He called me son, and I haven’t been called that in so many years that it sticks something in me, I can’t quite explain. Something that feeds the knowledge that no matter what, this is my home. This is where I am meant to be.

“Roxie has a complicated past. It started with what she and her mother went through. She told me she explained that part to you. But after they came to Wyman, actually, more like they were sent to Wyman, their story got intertwined with more people. More young girls who had the same trauma, if not worse. She will always let you know what she is feeling. What she is personally going through, but once it crosses into someone else’s story, she is loyal enough to keep her mouth shut. For example, when you yelled out that you had bared your soul raw to her, Prez tried to get that information out of her. But she locked that down with the same logic you are faulting her for. She can’t tell you her truth without telling you others. She’s being a good friend. She was raised in this club.”

Omen’s explanation is helping me understand. It could also be the unknown number of days bender I’ve apparently been on that’s also helping, but it’s clear I’ve messed up. I got so mad at her for protecting people all because I wanted to know everything about her. I called her selfish when, really, it was all me who was. “I’ve really fucked up, haven’t I?” I ask, my voice still rough and broken as I feel in so many ways.

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