Page 16 of Never To Suffer

I sigh, realizing she’s chipping away at my armor, and I can either walk away right now, or I’ll be talking to her for the next three hours. The directions she wants to take this conversationscreams danger. We could keep it cordial, and I try to convince her to get off the drugs and get help. We could fuck in the bathroom while she convinces me she shouldn’t get high alone. I could fall for her pity trap and bring her back to the hotel room, where she ODs in my bed.

I turn and face her big green eyes, and she bites her bottom lip. Maybe I already feel bad for her, or maybe I want to tell someone the story I’ve held in for too long. Maybe I do want to get my dick sucked. Whatever the reason, I don’t get up and walk away like I should.

“It’s a reminder. Someone I love. Loved. Whatever it is.” I nod at the bartender for another drink. I’m making mistakes, ignoring the warnings and signs I’ve been told about.

“Oh, did they die? I’m sorry if that brought up lousy memories. I shouldn’t have asked, I guess.” She giggles but catches herself.

My head shakes as the smile creeps over my face. “Nah, she’s alive. She’s nothing but pleasant memories.”

Robin smirks and keeps asking questions. With each one, I loosen up, letting a wall come down a little more. The questions are harmless. Where do you live? What do you do? Safe questions, until she runs out of wine, and circles back to the tattoo.

“So, your girlfriend?”

“No, never got that far. She’s what they call the one that got away. More like the pair that got away.” I roll the hair tie from my wrist and pull my hair up while she watches. Even through the jacket, she notices my arms flexing. She licks her lips, shifting in her chair as her breathing changes. I’d bet if she stood up, there’d be a wet spot in her chair. Lucky for me, I’ve already decided the demons aren’t winning tonight. It’s her own fault. Making me talk about the tattoo puts two people in my mindthat I want far more than this temptress, or the score she’d likely share with me.

“Wait, so two girls got away, or like a metaphor or something about her tits?”

“Two people.” I trace my fingers over the bee on my wrist. “He…he was the reason I left my old life. The reason I couldn’t pretend anymore. She’s the one drawing me back, my beacon to find them again.”

“Oh?” Her lip comes up on one side and she tilts her head. “Nope, gonna need more info.”

“You mean you need more wine, and to call yourself a cab?”

“Aww, you can’t give me a lift, big guy? All strong and tall and handsome.” Her fingers slide up my arm, squeezing. “Maybe show me a few more of your tattoos.” She leans over, pushing her chest out. “Or, better yet, I could show you mine.”

I don’t understand what people see in me, but someone once told me it had to do with the bad boy image I exude, and that I’m a soft teddy bear on the inside. I don’t claim any image. I put on clothes and go through life like anyone else. Sure, I go through it with long hair, tight pants, painted nails, and a motorcycle. Apparently, I’m the rough around the edges guy everyone wants to save. Dani never wanted to save me. She said I didn’t need saving; I needed to stop forcing myself to believe the lies.

My phone buzzes again. This time, it’s my sponsor.

“Excuse me, Robin. I should take this.” She pouts as I stand up and walk to the back of the bar and out onto the patio. I light a cigarette and lean against the wall as I answer. “Shawn.”

“Hey, Skylar. How’s it going?”

“I’m not dead yet, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I’m not. I’m worried about you. Driving from here to your brother’s place in San Luis Obispo? Then to Hollywood? All on a motorcycle? You’re a special kind of nuts.”

“I told you; I’m making amends or whatever the fuck that step is.” I tuck the phone against my shoulder and flex my hand to work out the soreness along the scar tissue and joints. I glance across the parking lot, watching the first mist from the coming rain dance around the streetlights.

“Alright, I get it. So, it’s been a week since you left. How are things going?”

“I’ve had two…no, three whiskeys, and nothing else. I can see the hotel from where I’m standing, so I won’t drive.” I take a drag. “Met a girl named Robin at the bar. She’s flying, but also wants to ride my dick.”

“Okay, I’m pretty okay with that. Except, maybe?—”

“Nah, no worries there, buddy. As soon as I go back in, I’m getting her ass in a rideshare and out of my life. I don’t have time for that.”

There’s a silence and I don’t interrupt his note taking. We planned for this when I told him I wanted to go back south, back home. I enjoyed Canada, but something about Los Angeles pulls me back no matter how far I run, or how hard I claw. I can make it work with the right people beside me.

“Skylar, are you going back to make amends with your ex, or to try to getthemback?”

The darkness in my laugh even scares me a little. “Fuck, can’t it be both? No, wait, can you accuse me of trying to get the two of them back if I’ve never actuallyhadthem?” I blow a series of smoke rings toward the giant light overhead, watching the mist turn to drizzle and growing to rain. “If you break it down to the finer points, I can’t have one without the other. That goes for both the need to make things right with my ex and trying to get the people to accept me again.”

“And if it doesn’t work out?”

“I take my brother’s offer and work for his auto body shop. I’m going there tomorrow so he can show me the place and try to tempt me away from Los Angeles.”

“Good, call him, though. He’s called me twice to check in on you. And think of it as a backup plan, like you said, not a lesser option.”

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