Page 48 of Ridin’ Dirty
I was on my feet, walking barefoot toward the kitchen when Hazel strolled in. She and I weren’t exactly friends, and I was surprised to see her, but I didn’t speak on it. I didn’t know how much I needed the company until it arrived. An insane number of things had happened in such a short period of time. Processing it all was overwhelming. So much so, I didn’t have the wherewithal to phone a friend.
Max was the last to make her entrance. When she saw me, she offered a hesitant smile then held up a set of keys. My keys. She spun them around her finger than tossed them at me.
“Don’t worry. I took good care of her,” she said when I caught them.
I didn’t get a chance to let her know I wasn’t worried. Before I could respond, she was right there in front of me, pulling me into a hug.
“You okay?” she murmured as she squeezed.
I returned her embrace, letting out a sigh of relief.
For the second time that day, I was reminded I wasn’t alone.
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
“It’s okay if you’re not. It’s why we’re here,” interjected Viv.
Max and I pulled away from each other, both of us shifting our attention fully on her mother.
“Brought enough to stock your fridge for the next few days. Milk, cheese, bread—the essentials. For lunch, I thought I’d throw together some BLTs. But I got some bags of bird food if that’s what you’re into,” she said, holding up a sack of premade salad.
Hazel scoffed before reaching across the counter and snatching the salad out of Viv’s grasp. “Some of us weren’t born a size two.”
Viv laughed, entirely unfazed by Hazel’s attitude. Sofia ignored it, cracking open a beer and handing it to me as she told Viv, “I’d love a BLT. What about you, darlin’?”
“I’ll take one, too, thanks,” I replied, accepting the bottle.
“Can we get back to the part about you being okay?” asked Max as she folded her arms across her chest.
I hardly recognized this anxious version of her.
Actually, that wasn’t true.
Sunday night, she was jittery as hell, and this seemed a little like that, but I couldn’t quite figure out why. She left the diner and, less than an hour later, my whole world changed—but she wasn’t to blame.
“I second that, honestly. You’ve been through a lot,” said Sofia as she reached for another beer. She was quick to uncap it before she thrust it at Max. “Worry isn’t your color, babe.”
Max breathed a laugh as she accepted the drink. The soft sound was confirmation she caught Sofia’s drift, but that didn’t stop her from shifting her focus back on me, her anticipation clear as day in her pretty hazel eyes.
“Let’s see—in the last forty-eight hours, I watched Pistol beat a man to death, then was locked in his room at the clubhouse for hours on end before he finally let me out only after I agreed to marry him. For reasons that seem as obvious as they are stupid, I went through with it only for him to turn around to go hook-up with Cherry, like he completely forgot he had a wife. A wife, I might add, he’s fucked before.
“Now, I have a new name, a new address, and it’s all so incredibly insane, I couldn’t tell you one way or another how I feel. But I’m not dead. So—yeah. I guess you could say I’m fine.”
All eyes were on me as the room fell silent. I raised my glass in silent cheers then took a long pull from the bottle.
Hazel was the one to speak first.
“He made you his wife, not his ol’ lady. There’s a difference. Don’t expect him to be loyal to you. You barely know each other. My advice—”
“Haze, don’t be a bitter bitch,” interrupted Viv.
“I’m not a bitch. I’m a realist,” she shot back, unperturbed.
“Yeah, well, how about for now you just be a friend.”
It was a command disguised as a suggestion accompanied by a raised eyebrow from the mother hen herself. It also worked. Not only did it shut Hazel up, but it also made me feel a little better. Still, it couldn’t be denied Hazel had a point.
Viv put a plate of bacon in the microwave and started it before turning to address me. Her expression softened, but I recognized the look on her face. She was going to do what she always did and give it to me straight.
