Sunday Morning (Damaged #7.5)(6)
Her eyes were clear of drugs and alcohol. What I was witnessing was pure, righteous indignation. She had a temper and a solid swing with her bat. When she stood up to me, I knew she was full of shit. Fuck! She was so completely overflowing with shit, but she challenged me anyway. How in the hell could I not want this woman even if she was barely past being a kid?
Reality ensured I was already backtracking on my instant lust for the blonde by the time I left my card with her. Jodi was too young I told myself. An hour later, I was convinced I was ready to wait five years until she was old enough to deal with a man like me.
Five years were nothing to a man my age. I could wait while she grew up. I’d let her mature and experience life. Not experience men, of course. She’d need to stay away from them because only one man would do. I wondered if she was sitting in her trailer thinking about me and knowing I’d claimed her. Probably not. She was likely scared that one of the club guys planned to take away her bat and make her publicly pay for embarrassing Gordy.
She surprised me by showing up at the club and then surprised me again by challenging me. When I hurt the *, she didn’t even blink. Jodi was made of tough stuff, and I needed a strong woman. Her courage made me even more willing to wait for however long it took.
Whether Jodi sensed this truth, our paths were headed in the same direction. I was a patient man when I needed to be, and I needed Jodi. I could do five years in my f*cking sleep.
4 - Jodi
The trailer got so hot sometimes that every old, vile stain in the place awoke, and the smell spread. I tried to ignore it all and disappear in my books, but there was no escape on that blazing hot Thursday. Everything was too f*cking loud, ugly, and noxious.
In the living area, Mom laughed with one of her boyfriends. Terry was a trucker who stopped by whenever in town. I knew she really liked him. I also knew he was married and probably had a few other losers who liked him in the other nothing towns he passed by. Her laughter made me sad. I loved the fool of a woman, but her life was a f*cking mess, and she didn’t care.
Sadness never felt right while rage provided invigorating warmth. When I got too sad, I started worrying about the future. Was I a few decades away from being the joke in the next room? How long before I laughed for any man who showed me the least bit of attention?
Leaving the trailer, I was desperate for a quiet place to read. I considered using my search as an excuse to see Kirk. Unwilling to tempt fate, I avoided the strip club. The more I saw Kirk, the more I craved him. With enough time, I might forget the way I felt when he looked at me. That feeling was a lie. I wasn’t special, and we weren’t living in a storybook. There was nothing storybook about being fifteen years away from possibly becoming my mom.
Walking down one of the main streets in town, I passed fast food places. They were air conditioned, and I had enough cash to buy a small soda. If I could find one not overflowing with screaming kids, I’d sit in a corner and read until near sundown. The plan was so simple yet alluring.
McDonalds and Burger King had kiddie areas, so they were full of moms and children hiding from the heat. I kept walking, but every place was crowded.
After thirty minutes of walking, I remembered how the community center typically only drew in the town’s seniors. I figured old people were quieter than toddlers, so I began walking that direction.
I wasn’t dressed to be noticed. I wore a plain white t-shirt and baggy jeans. My clothes still clung to my sweaty body, thereby gaining the attention of a bored perv at a gas station. He tried to make small talk, but I ignored him.
“Don’t be like that,” he said, following me.
Years earlier, I’d learned how talking to horny men only encouraged them. This guy had nothing better to do, so he kept following. When I stopped at a light and stared straight ahead, he stood too close to me.
“Are you deaf?” he asked, still smiling.
His hand brushed the side of my face. I instinctually swung around and hit him with my backpack. My temper never considered the damn consequences. The guy wasn’t big, but I backed away from him while holding my pack in front of me.
“You’re a little bitch,” he growled, clearly unsure how to handle the situation.
People nearby laughed at how I nailed him with my pink, flowered backpack. His ego bruised, the guy needed to react somehow. If I were a better bullshitter, I’d have talked him down. I could have apologized, put on my sad, little girl face, and told him I was just really scared. Hell, I should have pretended I didn’t know English.
My temper didn’t allow me to back down even though I was scared. In fact, I’d gotten my ass kicked a few times. Pain wasn’t something I embraced. My neighbor fought with people regularly and walked around with constant black eyes. Nothing fazed the bitch, but I wasn’t jaded like her.
My heart beat so loudly in my ears that I didn’t hear the traffic nearby, let alone the roar of the Harley. The * had spotted Kirk before I did. He also put together the situation faster. I was still shaking like an angry leaf when I turned to find Kirk’s idling Harley behind me on the sidewalk.
Kirk never said a word before the guy panicked and ran away. Still shaking and confused, I stared at Kirk.
“Every time I turn around, you’re starting shit with someone,” he said, fighting a smile. “Want me to chase him down and let you beat him with your backpack?”