Page 33 of Marx

“Ah, cool. Sounds great,” I say, kicking off my boots in the entryway and following Lovely to the couch where she has snacks set up on the table and Bee playing on a rug on the floor.

“Have you seen it? Tav suggested it’s one I should watch. He’s given me a huge list of movies I had to see to catch up with the rest of the world. I thought it might be a nice, easy watch after the excitement of today.”

Lovely sits at one end of the L shaped couch, at the part where she can put her feet up. She pulls a throw rug over her legs, covering those beauties from me. “Oh shoot, you’re bigger than me, do you want to sit on this side?”

I huff a laugh. “Lovely, it’s fine. I’m all good here,” I reply, slumping down a little into the cushions.

She smiles and is about to press play when I interrupt her. “Are you alright? You know, after what happened today?”

She tips her head to the side, studying me with her dark eyes. “Yeah, of course. It was fun,” she grins.

“Yeah, I’m sure. You weren’t scared or worried or anything?”

“Marx, you may not know this, but I’m skilled with a knife. I can shoot a gun too. Eden’s Keep leaders were paranoid we’d be raided one day. I’m guessing by the government or something. Anyway, from the time we could walk we were taught self defence and how to use knives and a gun in case we had to defend the Keep.”

“I know it was a shit place, but that’s a handy skill to have,” I say, impressed. I never once thought Lovely would be capable of shooting or knife work. I’m starting to see that my expectations of what Lovely is capable of is shockingly low. I’m such a douche.

“Don’t give them too much credit. They also taught us women that if it looked like we were losing, we’d take the children and the elderly, barricade ourselves in the hall and drink the ‘calming’ tincture that Royal Landry created.”

“Jonestown style?” I ask, shocked to my core that Eden’s Keep would go that far.

“I don’t know what that is,” Lovely says, her confused face is fucking adorable. Jesus man pull it together, you’ve led men into battle!

“Jonestown was a religious cult led by Jim Jones, I’m guessing similar to yours. Anyway, Jim Jones became more and more paranoid, some members were accused of murder and everything spiralled out of control. They believed the government would come to get them, so they decided to round everyone up and have them drink Kool Aid. It had been laced with cyanide.”

Lovely runs a hand over her cheek, wiping away tears. “Ugh, evil men hiding their true selves under the guise of God and his teachings. That’s why I like it here. Every man here knows what it is to be good, and just. Do you kill people? Sometimes, but it’s to protect the innocent. Those men could never.” She drops her hand to her lap, her fists clenching. It’s then I notice the ink onher wrist. Leaning over, I gently take her hand, turning it over for a better glimpse. A tiny bumblebee marks the pale skin. I run my thick finger over the ink, trying to ignore the shiver that runs over her. I know I should stop touching her, I lost that right when I said that shit, but I want to memorize the smoothness of her skin for one second longer.

“Didn’t know you got inked.”

Her lips tip up. “It seemed appropriate. She’s my little Bee.”

I nod, leaning back into my place on the other side of the couch. Before I can ask anything else she starts the film. I settle back and watch the screen while taking sneak peeks at Lovely. I don’t ever remember seeing this movie, but it’s not as shitty as I thought it was going to be. It definitely has Tav written all over it. One of the first things I learned about the man was how much he loved watching films in his down time. Weird shit from before we were born almost. Not that it matters because watching Lovely watch the movie is entertaining enough. There’s joy, sadness, anger. Every emotion you can think of crosses her face throughout the film. One part there she snuggles Bee into her lap and hides behind her so she can’t see the scary parts. I know I have a shitstorm coming my way, and every time I think of the fuckers tied up in Pops’ office my blood boils, but this here, with Lovely and Bee somehow pushes that to the back of my mind. It’s so fucking domestic and instead of breaking out in hives I want to grab on with both hands.

The credits roll and I glance over to see Bee asleep on her mom, plastered to a sleeping Lovely’s chest. Her little mouth is wide open and she’s already in her PJs so I very gently slip my hands under her light weight, trying hard not to grope or bump Lovely’s healing chest in the process. Once I’ve extricated Bee, which is similar to extricating an explosive, I carry the little girl to her room. Her night light and the machine in the corner that plays soothing sounds is already on. Pulling back the covers Islowly transfer Bee into her bed, her mop of hair resting against the pretty pink pillow on her miniature bed. Pulling the covers up over her I make sure to tuck her in a little. Don’t want her kicking them off in the night. I know that being cold wakes them up; well, that’s what Rhodie said. Now his kid sleeps in a big sack thing.

I slowly sneak out of Bee’s room, trying hard not to make too much noise and startle her or her mom. Lovely is still on the couch, completely dead to the world and for some reason that makes me feel good. She has the tendency to work too hard, to help too much, and I want her to rest and heal as much as she can. Moving down the hall I let myself into her room. Stepping inside I’m hit with Lovely’s scent. Most women smell like flowers and shit, but not Lovely. She’s somehow a mix of lemony sunshine and fresh laundry. It’s the only way I can explain it. It’s fresh and comforting all at the same time. Rolling my eyes at my thoughts I make my way to the bed and fold down the floral quilt, ready for her. I fluff up her pillow too, because why the hell not?

I turn to make my way back to the living room to get Lovely, and a notepad on the desk catches my eye. I know I shouldn’t snoop but clearly my feet don’t get the memo as with two long strides I’m at her modest desk staring down at myself. Flipping the page I’m met with a pencil drawing of Flack. I flip through pages, one by one, every page has an absolute masterpiece on it. Chewy in full Rev Room glory, the funny grin she gets on her face frozen in time and captured perfectly. Mad Dog leaning against the bar of the clubhouse, smiling at someone just out of view. I turn back to the first page I saw, the one where she captured my likeness. Never in my life have I seen myself portrayed this way. I’m frowning, lips turned down and yet there is determination, grit in my gaze. There’s a hardness about me, almost a cruelty that I’ve never noticed or seen before. Running a hand downmy face I curse myself. I’ve spent a wonderful evening with a wonderful woman, a woman I want to make mine, but I’m a fucking monster. This portrait shows in great detail exactly what Lovely sees when she looks at me.

“That’s from the day TumTum was shot. You were so mad, raging at the world and how to get revenge.”

I clear my throat, “It was the day I said some shit you didn’t deserve too. Actually, I say a lot of shit you don’t deserve. I can see why you see me like this. A cruel, hard fucker.” I run a finger down the picture once more. No matter the subject, her work is breathtaking.

“That’s not true.” Her soft voice reaches my ears. “I see you in lots of different ways. Do you say mean stuff sometimes? Yeah, you do.” Somehow hearing from her sweet lips the shit I said affects her makes me wince. “But I know those moments are moments where you have the world on your shoulders, pressing down on you. You’re not a cruel man, Marx. Trust me, I know cruel men. You’re just a man trying to keep his family safe who sometimes says shitty things.” My head snaps up at the curse word coming from Lovely’s lips, an impish grin on her face. “Turn the page.”

“Huh?” I grunt, unsure why she wants me to see Flack’s picture.

“Not that way, the other way.” She rolls her eyes at me.

I flip to the next page in the book, unaware that there were more. I blink once, then twice. Staring back at me is another version of me. This one is softer, kinder. The type of man I wish I was more often. This one has a slight quirk to his lips, as if about to smile. There’s a lightness there that I don’t recognize.

“Is this the version of me I should be? All happy and shit?” I ask, not able to tear my eyes away.

“Nope. That’s the version of you I’ve seen the past two days. Briefly.” she adds. “That’s how you look when you’re helpingwith Bee. She really is good at making your heart feel happy, huh?” She moves slightly closer, beaming up at me. “She saved me, Marx. She saves me every day. I can put up with anything as long as I know I have her with me and I’m keeping her safe.”

“I’ll keep you both safe.” I vow, my throat tight with emotion. For how Lovely sees all the facets of me. For the guilt I feel for the way I treated her. For her shitty past and the battles she faces every day. For the things we’ve lost.

“And I’ll do the same for you, Marx.” She beams at me before a giant yawn takes over her face.

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