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The fake biker bar was hot and crowded and I most definitely wasn’t having fun. If one more nice, clean, leather-clad cool person accidentally knocked into me I’d punch them in the face. This was, apparently, Dean’s crowd. He seemed to know everyone here. Sure as hell, no self-respecting biker would step foot inside the place. You didn’t have to be an expert in mc culture to know the place was a fraud. I’d more chance of tripping over a trust fund baby’s leather loafer than a real live biker boot.
Bet they were having fun at Jimmy’s dinner party.
Maybe I shouldn’t have tried to force Tom on him. Crap, I no longer had a god damn clue what the right or wrong thing to do was regarding Jimmy Ferris. If I ever had to begin with. From day one I’d been out of my depth, wading in shark-infested waters. I wondered if he’d called Liv and invited her over as suggested. Jealousy slithered up my spine. Dating was the right thing for Jimmy, it was. My inability to find inner peace and harmony over it was my own damn problem.
Time to suck it up, baby.
Dean stood a few feet away from me, deep in conversation with some guy about the values of different soundboards. No one could blame him. Tonight, I’d officially been voted world’s worst company. I played with the straw in my gin and tonic, pushing the slice of lime first to the left, then over to the right. Back and forth, back and forth. I’d yet to take an actual sip, it just felt wrong. Like I was cheating somehow, stupid but true.
Stage Dive blared out over the sound system and it was all I could do not to scream. Further proof of my predicament. My whole world was Jimmy Ferris and it was my own damn fault. For years I’d been drifting, getting over the betrayal of my delightful sister and her wonderful fiancé. It was time to start making plans again. If I could just figure out what I wanted.
Maybe I should talk to Pam again, ask about how she got into photography. There’d been something about lining up the shots, seeing the world through the lens that appealed to me. Bored, I pulled out my cell and started snapping off some pictures. The swaying dreds of one of the male bartenders as he shook up a cocktail. A crowd of patrons’ hands, reaching across the bar, calling for service. A partial shot of a couple, the two women leaning in close, holding hands. This was fun. My night had been saved.
I lined up a view of some of the bottles behind the bar. The flat screen beside them caught my eye and I lowered my camera. On screen was a face, an eerily familiar one. The marrow in my bones turned to ice.
“Oh, no.”
They’d cleaned her up, but it was still definitely her, Jimmy and David’s mother. Her normally pale sickly skin had been covered in garish makeup. She looked orange with coral pink slashes instead of lips. Still too thin with all sorts of nasty shit shining bright in her blue eyes, the bitch. Next a series of pictures of Jimmy flashed up, him walking into rehab and another of him obviously high on something. Then there was the snake herself, sitting on a couch, pouring her heart out to the camera if the dewy look in her eyes was any indication. Text ran along the bottom of the screen which was good. I couldn’t hear a thing over the music.
“I’m homeless. I’m on the street while they live in mansions. They’ve turned their backs on me because they have money and fame. They’re ashamed of the simple loving home that they came from. It’s such a betrayal. My heart is broken, I don’t know what else to say.”
A big fat tear ran down her face, leaving a streak in her makeup. The equally tarted-up blonde interviewer reached across, clasping her hand, offering comfort. My stomach rolled queasily.
“Shit,” I muttered.
“Lena?” Dean grabbed at my arm. “What’s wrong?”
“I have to go. I’m sorry, I’ve got to go.” I shook him off, not even looking back.
He called out something, but I didn’t slow down. Bye-bye biker bar. Heels couldn’t get me home fast enough, so they had to go too. I hopped along, tearing off first one then the other, dumping them both. The bitter cold of the concrete stung the soles of my feet, dirt and grit sticking to my skin. All that mattered was getting home.
Jimmy.
Please let him be okay. He wouldn’t take this well, no one would, your own damn mother selling you out. The woman was pure evil. My heart pounded and sweat beaded on my forehead. People got out of my way, a good thing.
“Where’s the damn keys?” I raged, searching through my bag, completely forgetting the Merc would open just because they were near. Thank fuck for technology.
I flung myself into the car, slamming the door shut behind me. Engine on and I was away, rushing through the nighttime traffic. Someone got in my way and I let loose with the horn. The guy flipped me the bird, as if I cared. Though if a cop saw me driving this way I was done for.
It seemed to take forever to get home and when I did, every light in the house was blazing like some ominous beacon standing in the mist. A horror movie couldn’t have done it better. I pulled into the driveway, tires screeching. One of the butler dudes looked up from where he was packing stuff into the back of a white van, his face startled.
Into the house I ran. “Jimmy!”
Ev’s face appeared at the top of the stairs. “Up here, Lena.”
I might have busted a lung or two somewhere along the way because all I could do was pant. I’d gotten there, however, and that’s all that mattered.
Everyone was loitering outside of Jimmy’s bedroom door, including Liv. Had she been invited before or after I decided not to attend? It didn’t matter.
Tension and pain lined David’s face. “Lena, hey. He’s refusing to talk to anyone, locked himself in. She did a real hatchet job on him, went after him with the worst.”
“I can imagine.” Given she’d focused her attack on him in Idaho, it made sense. “Can you give us a minute?”
Lots of worried looks. Mal and Ben both deferred to David, waiting on him to speak.
“Please,” I said.
At long last, David nodded and slowly, the group headed down stairs, Anne nudging Liv along. No matter how many times Liv looked back, I wasn’t meeting her eyes. One apocalypse at a time and all that. I waited for the last of them to go, the marble freezing my feet. Then I knocked on the door. “Jimmy?”
No answer.
“Jimmy, it’s just me. Open the door please.” I knocked again, then tried the handle. It was locked of course. “Jimmy.”
Nothing.
I placed my palms flat against the smooth wood in entreaty. “I know you’re upset and you want to be alone, but I’m not going away until we’ve talked. You need to let me in, I have to see that you’re okay. Please open the door.”
Silence filled the hall.
“Jimmy?”
Nada.
“One way or another I am coming in there.” I rested my forehead against the door, frustration gnawing at my insides. There were no booms or crashes at least, just a scary sort of silence. The thought of where his head might be at terrified me. I hated feeling helpless. His hissy fit the other night when I’d locked him out now made perfect sense. Man, we were screwed up. Just his assistant my ass.
“James Dylan Ferris, open the god damn door.” I smacked my palm against the door, waiting and hoping, though I didn’t really expect him to answer. The stubborn jerk. “Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
If he could do it, so could I.
“You’re not keeping me out.”
And really, how hard could breaking down a door be? People did it all the time in the movies. I’d been jogging lately and was in better shape than I had been, despite the sweat currently coating my back. Sometimes, a girl just had to do what a girl had to do. And I had to get to Jimmy. He hadn’t opened the door to his family so getting them to help didn’t seem right. First, I’d try on my own. For all I knew, he could be crying again and if I let David and co see him in that condition it wouldn’t be good. The man had his pride.
I took a few steps back, squared my arm, and rammed the bastard. Gave it all I had.
Bam!
And holy shit, ouch.
The door rattled and my arm stung from shoulder to elbow. My funny bone went beserk, making me wince. Alright, so it was harder than it looked. Time to try something else.
I raised my leg and braced myself, taking a deep breath. There was no room for fear. Yes, I could and I would do this because I was woman, so hear me roar.
Instead, I howled.
My foot struck the door and pain reverberated up my leg, wave after endless wave of it.
“Motherfucker!” My ass hit the floor (which also hurt) and tears filled my eyes. “Ow.”