“You’re such an idiot, you know that?”
“Yeah, but I’m your idiot, baby. And you’re stuck with me forever.”
Pushing the door open with my shoulder, I kick it closed behind me once I’m inside. The room smells of fresh bleach and mildew, the air stale and unmoving.
I chuck my bag on the bed. The blanket has its fair share of cigarette burns, and the mattress sags in the middle—more than a little worn in.
Unclipping my holster, I lay it and my piece on the nightstand, the comfortable weight leaving my side before I move to the bathroom to take a leak.
The bathroom light flickers when I flip the switch, buzzing overhead like it’s on a dance floor and not the ceiling of a seedy motel. The sink drips in a constant rhythm, the mirror above it foggy with old water spots that the room cleaner obviously couldn’t be bothered with. The tile beneath my boots has a large stain that could only be from one thing, but I don’t give a damn right now.
“Are you going to answer me? I need to head out.”
“Yeah, baby. Someone should be there. I’m gonna getsettled in here, then I have a meeting with Patch tonight. Text me when you get home and before you go to bed tonight. Actually, better yet, send me a picture of you in bed showing me just how much you miss me.”
She scoffs, but I catch the smile in it even if she doesn’t agree. Her I love you comes before the call ends, and the quiet descends, pointing out my lonely night ahead.
“Fuckkkk,” I moan as my bladder empties, relief rolling through me hard enough to make my head fall back. We decided to cut the last stop to get in sooner, and we won’t be making the same call on the way home.
When I’m done, I scrub a hand down my face and stare at my distorted reflection for a second longer than necessary. Wind chafed cheeks. Beard rough. Eyes tired yet sharp enough to catch any bullshit tonight if it’s laid at my feet.
I turn the shower on and wait as the pipes rattle, coughing up rust-tinged water before it finally runs clear. Slowly stripping off my clothes, I feel each ache as it announces the changes in my older body. Fifteen years ago, the ride out here was nothing but a quick way to get to a fresh pool of hot pussy. Now, it’s a necessary but unwelcome trip away from my girls.
The hot water hits my body like a new lease on the day, steam filling the cramped space as I brace my hands against the tiled wall and let my head drop forward, stretching the tight muscles in my neck. Scrubbing hard, grime and sweat spiral down the drain, as I wash the ride off me piece by piece.
Patch doesn’t like wasting time, and neither do I. Whatever this meeting is about on his end, I need a clear head. By the time I shut the water off, my skin is red, my muscles loose, and my mind sharper than it’s been all day.
I dry off, pull on clean jeans, a fresh shirt, and throw on mycut before holstering up again. Their weight feels as comforting as a hug from my own kid.
With a couple of hours to kill, I grab the keys to my bike and the room and head in search of some food to line my stomach in preparation for tonight.
UNINVITED GUEST
JOSEPHINE
Our town isn’tbig by any means. One stoplight off the highway and another halfway through Main Street. If you asked the locals, it’s one too many, getting in the way of our daily lives. We’re nothing more than a blimp on the map, but the highway crawls through here against our will, so we don’t have much say in the matter.
The same faded brick buildings have lined this road for decades. The hardware store with a crooked sign, the diner that still smells like bacon grease at all hours, and the tiny post office that somehow keeps the whole place connected to the outside world.
There are a few newer additions, too. My salon, with its pink-and-white striped awning. The boutique where Lexi used to work. Which we all still avoid like the plague after the way Bethany May treated her. Her shit’s not really my style anyway. And then there’s the cute little bistro that brought in delicious subs and fancy coffees. A weird combo, but honestly, some of the best damn food we have around here that isn’t home cooking.
I sit stuck now, waiting for the damn light to change,though there’s no one at the crosswalk, just Bernice’s truck revving opposite me. The afternoon sun beats through the windshield, warming the steering wheel under my palms and making the dashboard smell faintly of hot plastic. You know it’s a scorcher when the AC at full blast can’t combat the heat outside.
A stray dog trots along the sidewalk near the feed store, and somewhere behind me, a car horn gives a quick, impatient tap. My eyes flash to my mirror and recognize Charlie. I flip her the bird, and we both laugh, eating up our wait.
“What’s for dinner?” Haley asks from the backseat, her little fingers tapping against the arm of her booster to the beat of a Riley Green song playing on the radio. Her pink sneakers kick lightly against my seat, no doubt leaving smudges I’ll pretend don’t exist until this weekend. I catch her reflection in the rearview mirror, ponytail crooked and cheeks flushed from her after-school chores.
It’ll be late by the time we get home and get situated. The last thing I want to do is make a whole meal on top of cupcakes, but there’s no rest for a soloing mama.
“What do you want for dinner?” I ask because, honestly, I think I’ll have a bowl of fresh tortilla chips with a side of salsa and call it a night.
The bag’s still sitting on the counter at home from our grocery haul, practically whispering my name.
“Mhh, can I have eggs and waffles?”
A girl after my own heart, and she doesn’t even know it. Because those are the only two things that Miss Independent back there can make on her own, and I’m not about to deny a blessing. I picture her standing on her little stool in the kitchen, serious as can be, while she cracks the eggs she brought inearlier like a pro, and it makes me smile despite how tired I am.
“Absolutely, breakfast for dinner sounds like a fantastic idea, baby.”