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“Shit, brother.”
“Fuckin’ him in the bathroom while Timmy was crashed on the couch. Yeah. So, not only am I copin’ with reliving the worst night of my life, feeling like PTSD or some shit, waking me up at night in cold sweats. Nightmares. Making it so my dick won’t stay hard when I’m with my girlfriend. And she fuckin’ cheats on me with the guy that broke her heart and abandoned her and her boy?”
“Sorry, brother. That fuckin’ bites.”
He growled. “Yeah. It bites.”
“You through with her?”
He shrugged. “She wants forgiveness.”
“Yeah?”
“Begging, cryin’. Treating me like a king to say she’s sorry.”
“Is it enough?” I asked.
He blew out a breath. “Love those two kids like they’re mine, Jesse. Serious. Those boys started calling me Daddy. Now Timothy’s calling me Scotty like he did before.”
“Fuck. That’s rough.”
“Yeah. I don’t know. She swears it won’t happen again.”
“I’m here for ya, man. All right?”
“I don’t talk this shit out, you know?”
“I hear you.”
“How’s it goin’ with you and Gia?”
“I don’t share either, brother, not about personal shit. It ain’t me. But it’s goin’ well. She’s… having a rough time feeling like she won’t fit in. Like the other girls hate her because she’s been with a few of the brothers.”
“How are you coping with knowing that some of them have…”
“You can say it. It’s the reality.”
“ – slept with her.”
I sighed. “It’s the past. In some of those cases the pretty distant past. She gave me the full rundown and when she laid it out, it didn’t seem extreme. Some of it was just Friday night clubhouse orgy shit. You know how it gets down at the mother charter sometimes. Some of it was dawgs being dawgs and leading her down the garden path, thinkin’ she’d be their ‘ol lady. Bottom line: don’t feel like I have the right to judge. Shouldn’t have double standards about her not being a virgin when I met her. I like what I see, what I’m getting to know. Way more to that girl than meets the eye and I’ve decided I want it all, especially the shit she’s hinting at but trying to hide because she’s been burnt so bad. None of those guys got deep with her or maybe they’d have gone off the market for her, too.”
“Good point. Heard nothing but good things about her from the other brothers. Nothin’ like that stepsister bitch.”
“She didn’t wanna be a sweet butt. She got labeled early on because Skippy’s a fuckin’ dipshit asshole.”
“Not a fan?” He laughed.
“No. I don’t want to get into the nitty gritty but really not a fuckin’ fan.”
“I’m here for you too, brother. Thanks for taking the time to do this tonight,” Scott clapped my shoulder.
“Any time. Or, I mean… I’d rather not braid one another’s fuckin’ hair but I’m here for ya, Scott.”
“Thanks,” he said around laughter. “I’ll ask Deanna to be extra sweet to Gia next time there’s a family thing.”
“That’d be appreciated.”
“If I can find my way past this shit,” he added.
“I hear ya. Sounds like you’re leaning toward tryin’.”
“Yeah. I am. Does that make me a pussy? Probably. But, we’ll see. I fucked up once by cheating on a girl I really cared about. Lost her. If she’d have given me a second chance, I would never have strayed again. That’s what I’m stuck on with Deanna.”
“Makes sense.”
“We’ll see. I’m gonna go in and grab some donuts to bring back for Timmy and Caden. You want anything?”
“Yeah. Coffee, man. Thanks.”
18
It’s been weeks. I was never the long-distance relationship type, but it felt like that was the deal here. And the Francie thing was giving her the perfect reason to stay away.
I was tired of this shit. Tired of subsisting on phone calls where she was mostly whispering. Where she didn’t sound happy. Tired of feeling like things hadn’t gotten deeper with us.
She was sweet and affectionate when I managed to get up there for a few hours or for a night. But the mask was still on her face unless we were connecting physically. When our eyes were locked and she came, it slid off and I got to see underneath. Same thing first thing in the morning, almost always waking up to her eyes on me. Otherwise, something fundamental was missing. Most of all: progress.
I’m not about superficial bullshit, never have been.
But distance made it so we couldn’t get there. I knew she was keeping me at arm’s length, whether she realized it or not. Whether it was lingering grief from the murder of her stepsister, the toll her aunt’s health was taking, fear from being burnt in the past, all of it – I suspected it was all of it… enough was enough.
When shit feels wrong, broken, or fucked up you’re supposed to fix it. I’m not a guy to wallow in my problems. I fix shit. Having my hands tied like this gave me the urge to shake it all off.
