“Well in that case, you’re welcome for my gracious nature. Now go away, so I can get to know my new tenant.”
Lucky gives me a fatherly nod. At least, I guess that’s how dads nod. Once his Harley roars away, I stand alone with Darby.
“Where’s your stuff?” she asks.
“I didn’t bring any.”
Clearly suspicious, Darby sizes me up. “Did you need to leave town in a hurry?”
“My mom pissed me off and I wanted a fresh start.”
The words make sense in my head. Out loud, I hear their stupidity. I don’t even own a pair of clean panties.
“Didn’t you have a special thing you left behind? A journal or something?”
“No. Just my little brothers.”
I don’t know what Darby sees on my face, but her expression softens. She’s stunning now and I feel like a dirty nothing next to her.
“Starting over is a choice most people can’t make. They stay where they’re at, but not because they’re happy or trapped. They just can’t make a move. You did choose, so you’re a step ahead.”
I give her a tired smile. “I’m starting to think I messed up.”
“You’re here now. Do you want to run home or stick it out?”
Thinking about all the nights I worked for money my mom pissed away on a loser, I remember Hawthorne as an ugly place. Maybe a better life awaits me here in Little Memphis.
“I’ll stick it out.”
Darby nods. “First, I’ll show you around the house and talk about my expectations. Second, I’ll drive you to Wal-Mart and front you the money to buy essentials like tooth paste.”
Covering my mouth, I suspect I’m a gross sight. “Thanks. I’ll pay you back.”
“Oh, I know you will. My ex-husband once made a guy bleed over twenty bucks. He might be sharing another woman’s bed, but I’m still family. If you refuse to do what you say, he has ways to make you change your mind.”
Staring at Darby who stares back, I can’t think of how to respond.
“You look really pretty when you threaten people,” I finally blurt out.
Darby smiles. “I am very vain.”
“I don’t want to be pretty,” I add. “I don’t want to be seen as a sexy person.”
“One day, you’ll grow up enough to realize that it doesn’t matter what other people see in you,” Darby says, taking my elbow and directing me towards the kitchen. “I used to dress like the other old ladies in the club. Boobs out. Tight jeans. They were happy looking like that. I never was. Now, I do what I want. As long as I purr when I see my reflection, other people’s reactions don’t mean shit.”
Darby shows me the small kitchen. Everything looks new and I’ve never seen butcher block countertops before. Upstairs are two small empty bedrooms. A third bedroom is off-limits.
“It was my son’s room,” Darby explains. “He died a few years back, but I keep the room the way he left it. If you mess it up, I’ll cut you.”
Darby’s threats make me smile since she dresses like a 1950’s housewife, yet cusses like a trucker. She’s what my mom might have been if she hadn’t met Donnie. With Mom, I sometimes saw hints of the willful wild girl I heard stories about. These days, Lydie Thompson is in a downward spiral. I cut her loose, but my brothers are falling with her.
“What was your son’s name?” I ask as she opens the door to my room.
“Milo Junior, after his dad. We call him MJ.”
Walking into the small, clean room with crisp white curtains and bedding, I smile at the soft pink flowered wallpaper. This is the prettiest room I’ve ever stayed in and I’m realizing life is different now. Only time will answer whether different turns out to be a good or bad thing.
6
Ford
Chick’s a Biter
Maggie is a warm body that few guys want to wake up next to. By the time I’m done at Suede, my hook up options prove slim. Maggie is fine when the lights are off and her mouth is shut.
Now, the sun is up and she’s moving around behind me in bed. I remain on my side and pretend to sleep. If I fake it for long enough, maybe Maggie will leave and I won’t need to make morning small talk.
“Your brother is a better fuck,” she says, climbing out of bed.
“I’ll mention that to him later. Lock the door on your way out.”
Maggie stomps around the room, looking for her clothes. Once she’s dressed, she kicks the mattress.
“I’m not a club whore you can use and throw away.”
Rolling over, I smile at her. “Funny because I say spread and you always ask how wide.”
Maggie wants to say something. Hell, I heard she’s an eye-clawing, hair-pulling maniac when in the right mood. She won’t bitch with me though.
Instead, she storms out to find someone who will tell her lies about how she’s not a loser and the right guy is around the corner. I might have told her lies if she didn’t insist on crying whenever anyone said a single nice thing to her.