As I climb back into my truck, I call my mom. “Hey, Honey,” she answers.
“Hey Mom, how was work?”
She sighs. “Good, but I’m glad this day is over. How’s your day been?”
“It’s been good, really productive. I had a late lunch and got to see Aubree at dance class. She did so great.”
“Oh I’ll have to go see her next time. I bet she’s adorable,” she replies.
“Of course she is,” I tell her with a laugh. “I had a quick favor to ask.”
“Anything,” she tells me.
“I need to run by the clubhouse. Wilder called and he’s having an issue. Would you mind grabbing Aubree from Hollis for the time being?”
“You know I don’t mind at all. Dawsyn and her will have an afternoon of fun together,” my mom tells me.
“Thanks Mom.”
“Anytime. I’ll see you in a bit.” I hang up the phone and head to the clubhouse. I kind of feel like I’m stepping back in the past. The idea of Zoey now seems so foreign.
Three
Two weeks ago…
Zoey
I pull up to the rundown, one-bedroom shack that I’m currently calling home along with my boyfriend, Gregg. As I park the car, I attempt to roll the window up, but the damn handle breaks. Great, just what I need, another thing to have to worry about. I drop my head back on the seat and groan out loud. God, I hope it doesn’t rain. As I sit there, my eyes start to feel so heavy. I’m so tired. I don’t think I can even get out of the car right now. Every muscle is aching and my feet are screaming in protest.
This is not how I saw my life going when I left Los Angeles six years ago. Gregg had me tangled up in pretty lies and butterflies. I believed every sweet thing he whispered in my ear. I gave him everything and he took it all. I left my family behind without a second thought. Well, that’s not true. I missed my twin brother, Zayde, like crazy. I even missed my best friend, Drake, but I didn’t miss my dad and his hypocritical rants that cut me down to size based on the woman my mother was to him. He always found a way to make sure he made his feelings for me loud and clear. Two-bit whore, that was his favorite reference for me.
I was never a whore despite his accusations. I did have a thing for the bad boys, but I think that was because I had daddy issues. I wanted someone who wasn’t afraid to put my father in his place, bad boys weren’t afraid of anything-- my father included.
Gregg and I started out strong and I even thought I had found my tattooed prince charming. It’s funny how fresh outta high school you can be so naïve. I had grown up around bikers my whole life. My dad was the president of the Sons of Sin, but never once did any of them carry on the way Gregg did. It took him two years to show his true colors, to me at least. Who knows what he did when I wasn’t around?
The problem was, that two years into our relationship meant I was too invested. I held out for another year thinking that the Gregg I had left Los Angeles with would come back. Of course, he didn’t and I was the fool once again, but then I was three years in with Gregg and going back home wasn’t an option. I couldn’t go crawling back to my dad. I couldn’t hear his undercutting insults and the I told you so…so in the end I stayed.
Now, it’s been six years since I left Los Angeles and I haven’t talked to Zayde or Drake in four years. I don’t do social media to keep up the allusion that my life is so wonderful that I don’t have time to document it. Truth is…my life sucks.
I juggle three jobs. One is a full time position as a waitress at a truck stop just off the highway, then I have a part time job at the local Wal-Mart and lastly, I have a student job at the college helping grade papers and what not. It helps me keep my scholarships while trying to finish up my graphic design degree. I work constantly and when I’m not working, I’m in class or sleeping. Gregg works, but of course he never keeps a job too long because he is hot headed and mouthy and ends up getting into fights with the co-workers or bosses. It’s such bullshit.
The music from the house turns up, carrying out into the small, run down front yard. Now, I’ll have to go in and try to convince him to turn it down since we can’t afford to have another visit from the police. We’re barely managing to stay in this piece of shit house as it is. Why Gregg can’t seem to comprehend this is beyond me.
I get out of the car and make my way to the door which is open but the screen door is closed. It’s not hard to tell what’s going on from here. The beat-up coffee table is loaded with all kinds of drugs, alcohol cans and bottles litter the floor and there’s a naked girl laying across my naked boyfriend’s lap. You’ve got to be kidding me! I think to myself.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have suspicions that Gregg cheated, or that he was into something like drugs because our money is always gone. We barely have food or a roof over our heads. The Dodge Neon I own has most definitely seen better days and I think it runs more on prayers than anything else. I’ve often questioned where our money goes, but like everything else, Gregg controls the money that I make. Seeing this, all laid out in front of me, is like a slap in the face.
Slowly, I open the screen door. I try to figure out why the music wasn’t playing when I pulled into the driveway, when clearly everyone in here is stoned and passed out. I sigh and walk over to the stereo system and turn it off before heading to the bedroom. My thoughts are jumbled. The only thing I know for certain is that I can’t do this anymore. I’m so tired of this being my life. I walk into the wood paneled bedroom that is basically falling apart. The carpet is shag and worn. In some spots there’s nothing. Our mattress is thrown on the floor with the blankets askew. I walk over to the closet and just stand there trying to decide what to do with my life.
Finally, I pull out my shredding duffel bag that might not make it back to Los Angeles, but I hope like hell it will. I pile everything that I can in there. Once I’m done, I stand there staring down at the floor trying to decide if this is the best thing for me or the biggest mistake. Honestly, I don’t think it could be a bigger mistake than being with Gregg, especially now with drugs involved. I sigh heavily and run my fingers through my brown hair. When I turn around, I jump because a shirtless Art, Gregg’s best friend and probably drug supplier, is standing in the doorway, eyeing me up. My skin crawls with disgust and my gut clenches with fear.
Art bites his lip as he steps closer to me. “You look good tonight, Z.”
I roll my eyes. “I look tired.”
He shakes his head as his eyes rake over my body again. I’m trapped. There’s no way around him to get to the door. There’s no escaping. “No Baby, I think you look real good.”
I swallow down the bile that climbs up my throat and remember my keys are in my hand. There’s a little keychain pocket knife that Drake gave me years ago still hanging there. It’s my only hope. Without drawing attention to myself, I try to open it so that I’m ready for what I know is about to happen. Then a shout from the living room draws our attention. It’s Gregg and his voice is panicked. He’s screaming for Art.
I stand in the shadows of the hallway and listen as Art and Gregg discuss the naked girl who has apparently overdosed. She’s not breathing is all Gregg keeps saying. Tears burn my eyes and clog my throat because her life shouldn’t have ended this way. If I stay will that be me? That question is the reason I turn around and go back to the bedroom. I close the door before grabbing my bag and opening the window. I climb out and jog to my Neon. I start the car and back out so fast, I get dizzy. This can’t be my life anymore, it’s the only thought I have. I speed down the street, everything becoming a blur as I leave Gregg and the messed-up relationship we had behind.