Reaper's Property

Page 8

That afternoon I got a text from Horse, telling me to look at the “favorites” list on my phone.
He’d programmed himself into it, right at the top.
Aug. 23
Horse: How’s it going?
Me: Good. Kid barfed at me at work, but I managed to jump out of the way :)
Horse: Sounds like fun. Bike broke down here
Me: That sucks. You have a car?
Horse: SUV. Good for getting around, esp in snow. Hate feeling caged tho. What you doing?
Me: In yard, catching sun.
Horse: What you wearing?
Me: Nothing. Working on tan all over
Horse: !!!! You f**king me????
Me: LOL I’m wearing a tee and shorts :->
Horse: Too good to be true. Going to try to make it down next week
Me: Give me heads up
Horse: I will. TTYL
Aug. 27
Me: Bored. Hows the bike?
Horse: Bored is better than barfed on. Bike up and running again.
Me: Congrats! Kind of excited, going out tonight. Friend Cara from HS came to visit from NY. Like old times
Horse: Out?
Me: Dancing in tri-cities. Some club. Gonna slut up and everything!
Horse: Huh. Be careful
Me: Always. Excited tho. Haven’t gone out since Gary
Horse: Looking for new man?
Me: Um…not really. Just fun
Horse: Watch out and don’t dress too slutty. Don’t want trouble
Me: Had enough trouble, trust me
Horse: True. Send me a pic later
Me: OK
Me: So what you think? Too slutty?
Horse: Hot. Definitely too slutty. Go change.
Me: Prude :-P
Horse: Text me when you get home
Me: Night gone to shit
Horse: ?
Me: Jeff is sick, really sick. Asked me to stay home with him. Thought I might have to take him to the hosp but all right now
Horse: That sucks. He okay?
Me: Think so. Getting checked tomorrow, stomach pain
Horse: Sorry
Me: Me too. Cara leaving tomorrow, so no party for me…
Aug. 28
Horse: Hows Jeff?
Me: Fine, like nothing happened. Doc says must have been gas
Horse: Heh
Me: Bad gas
Horse: Sorry about going out. Glad nobody saw you dressed like that
Me: Jealous? ;)
Horse: What do you think? Gotta go, church in a few
Me: Church?!?? Didn’t peg you for a church kind of guy
Horse: What we call a club meeting. I try to stay away from collection plates
Me: Don’t get holy water in your beer!
Sept. 1
Me: Going to see mom today. Hate jail
Horse: Watch out for LEO
Me: LEO?
Horse: Law enforcement officers. Jail crawling with them
Me: LOL. Cause I break so many laws?
Horse: No, cause you keep bad company :-> Social visit or something up?
Me: Just regular, try to go every week since closer now. Harder when I lived with Gary. Didn’t like me seeing her. Calls cost too much $ tho, so visiting important.
Horse: I get it. Got brothers inside. Hope visit is good
Me: Thanks
Horse: Send another pic?
Me: Um, not dressed up
Horse: Don’t care. Send it. Want to see you today
Me: Okay :)
I hate the county jail.
I’ve spent way too many hours in the waiting room, although I know it’s probably better than visiting a real prison. The county guys look at me like I’m trash and occasionally they cop a feel while patting me down.
That’s the price of seeing my mom.
They put me in a little room that had a built-in table, sort of like those tables at McDonald’s where you can’t move the chairs. But here the chairs are just stools and the whole thing is white. After a few minutes the door opened and Mom came in. She was wearing an orange jumpsuit, and even though it had to be the ugliest piece of clothing on earth, Mom looked fantastic. Seriously. My mom is hot, always has been, something that drove me crazy during high school. But from the way she walked, I could tell that her back was hurting worse than usual. She had a bunch of ruptured discs and no health insurance to fix them. The doctors wanted her to have surgery, but the county didn’t want to pay for it, so she was stuck in limbo.
I stood and hugged her.
“Hey, Mama,” I whispered into her hair, which looked fantastic even though she didn’t have any styling stuff or anything. How did her hair look better in jail than mine did after two hours fixing it? Just another part of the mystery that was my crazy, loving, incredibly-difficult-at-times mother.
“Hey, baby,” she replied, holding me tight. She smelled a little like cigarettes, which I know a lot of people find disgusting but I find strangely comforting—so long as it’s not totally filling our trailer with smoke. It made me think of when she’d come home late at night after work when we were little. She’d walk into the bedroom I shared with Jeff and kiss us both good night. That little hint of smoke was the smell of comfort and safety.
We separated and took seats.
“So how’s it going with you?” she asked. I’d put on lots of foundation to cover my bruises but her eyes flickered across them. “Gary?”
“Yeah,” I said, flushing. “I was stupid, went back there alone to get some stuff. He was drunk.”
Her mouth tightened, eyes filling with tears of anger or frustration, I couldn’t tell which.
“I wish I was out of here,” she said. “I’d kill that bastard.”
“Mom! Don’t talk like that, they’re probably listening—they’ll think you mean it.”
She cocked an eyebrow at me and I knew she meant every word. Mom had a temper, no question. That’s what got her here in the first place. But I loved the fact that she always protected her chicks, back when we were little and now too. My mom wasn’t perfect, but the woman could be an avenging angel when she needed to be, something more than one school bully had learned the hard way.
“He won’t be bothering me again,” I said quickly. “A friend of mine had some words with him.”
“Friend?” she asked.
“Um, actually a friend of Jeff’s. He’s a biker.”
“I see,” Mom said. “Since when does Jeff hang out with bikers? Gamers are more his speed, I’d think.”
“Ever since I moved back to the trailer,” I replied, shrugging. “He’s doing some kind of work for them. I don’t know the details.”
“They good bikers or bad bikers?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean.”
I laughed nervously.
“Um, they’re good to me. Kind of rough and they can get scary, but I’m okay with them.”
Her eyes narrowed, studying me. I shifted nervously, blushing again. Mom always saw right through me.
“Just ‘getting along’ or something more?” she asked. I shrugged again and she smirked.
“Well, be careful. Bikers can be great, but the hardcore guys are living in a different world from us.”
“Yeah, I picked up on that,” I said wryly. “It’s nothing serious, mostly just flirting.”
She didn’t need to know all the details. Does anyone really want to tell their mom about their best orgasm ever?
“I’ve got news of my own,” she replied with a gleam in her eye. Uh-oh, I recognized that gleam.
“What?” I asked, unnerved.
“Well, I’ve reconnected with someone,” she said. “A man. We’re getting serious.”
That caught my attention.
“How on earth are you doing that from jail?” I exclaimed. “I swear, you’re like a magnet, how do you get so many guys after you?”
She giggled, looking years younger than her age.
“Well, I may be getting old but I’m not dead yet,” she replied. “He came to see me not too long after I got in here. In fact, he’s been visiting me a couple times a week.”
“Who?”
“John Benson.”
“No way,” I muttered, stunned. “John Benson, our landlord?”
”Yeah,” she said, looking sheepish. “You may not know this, but he and I had a thing a long time ago…”
“I know,” I replied. “I also know he was married.”
She had the grace to look embarrassed.
“Well, I’ve made mistakes. But you should know we both felt guilty. That’s why we ended it. His wife never knew. She’s been dead for about three years now, car accident. John and I had been avoiding each other for so long it became a habit, but I guess when he read about me in the paper he started thinking about me.”
Only my mother would end up finding love by trying to run over two cops. Clearly, John Benson was an idiot.
“He wants me to marry him.”
I shook my head, unsure what to say. Finally I managed to speak.
“Well, I guess that’s good, Mom. How does he feel about what happened?”
“He knows I have my issues, but I’m sober now, which has helped me sort things out,” she said. That was true—she’d joined AA even before her little incident. We’d confronted her about her drinking after Jeff found her passed out outside the trailer in the snow last winter. It was a miracle she survived. “I’ve realized now that I need to deal with my emotions or I get…upset.”
That was the understatement from hell.
“Aren’t you supposed to stay out of relationships your first year of AA?”
“It’ll be almost a full year by the time I get out,” she replied. “I’d get out a little earlier for good behavior, but they’re not cutting me any slack because of the cop thing.”
We looked at each other, both thinking back to that day. She sighed.
“I never do anything halfway, do I?”
I shook my head, smiling ruefully.
“That’s the truth.”
“I’m moving in with him when I get out. That’s good news for you and Jeff, I guess. You’ll get to keep the trailer all to yourselves.”
I shrugged.
“I guess if that’s what you want,” I replied. “It concerns me a little, but if you’re happy, that’s good enough for me.”
She smiled, the tension on her face easing.
“Thank you, baby,” she whispered. “I’ve been worried about telling you guys. You talk to Jeff for me? He hasn’t been to visit in a month and I’m worried. Is everything okay?”
I thought about how to answer her question. I didn’t know of anything specifically wrong with Jeff, but there was definitely something going on. How to explain that though?
“He’s been kind of edgy,” I said finally. “And lost some weight. But he hasn’t talked to me about anything and when I asked he blew me off. Wish I could tell you more.”
“Thanks for that,” she said. “You tell him I love him?”
“I’ll tell him.”
Sept. 1
Me: Well that was fun
Horse: ?
Me: Went to see mom. She’s good, but crazy news. Getting married
Horse: This a good thing?
Me: Not sure. He’s the guy who owns our trailer. They used to have a thing, but he was married. Wife died couple years ago
Horse: Good guy?
Me: Cheated on his wife
Horse: One-time thing or pattern?
Me: Short term accord to mom. Says they both felt awful, ended it. Explains why we get the trailer so cheap
Horse: No shit
Horse: You like him?
Me: I guess. Always been nice to me. She’s moving in with him when she gets out.
Horse: Then be happy for your mom.
Me: Gonna try
Sept. 3
Horse: Whens your next day off?
Me: Thurs. Why?
Horse: Want to visit
Me: I’d like that :)
Sept. 6
I studied my face in the mirror critically, wishing I didn’t feel so nervous. The bruises had faded, which was good, and you could hardly see where my lip had been split. There were still a few yellowish splotches but I covered those up with strategically placed makeup. I put on a pretty sundress—nothing fancy, but bright and cheerful and it made my boobs look fantastic.
All in all, I looked human again.
Horse would arrive any time. The drive was a little over three hours, and he’d texted me when he left at seven that morning. I couldn’t define our relationship, but he wanted to visit me, not Jeff, and he was coming by himself. That had to mean something. And I couldn’t be just a booty call when he’d never gotten my booty, right?
I heard him pulling up and paused at the door, tugging up the bodice of my dress. Cleavage had seemed like a great idea earlier, but now I felt self-conscious. He knocked on the door.
“You there, sweet butt?” he called. I opened the door and his eyes went straight to my chest.
“Don’t call me sweet butt,” I snapped at him and he grinned, reaching out a finger to poke my nose.
“Bitchy, aren’t we?”
“Rude, aren’t we?”
“Always.”
We started laughing at the same time and he pulled me into his arms, giving me a welcome kiss that made me forget everything else. While his tongue explored my mouth, his hands roamed down to my rear, cupping my cheeks and pulling me up and into his hips. I felt his c**k against my stomach and sparks raced through me. Hard to believe I could make this handsome, intimidating biker so aroused.
Finally the need to breathe got the better of me, and I pulled away from him, taking his hand and drawing him in to the living room to the couch. He looked around, eyes pausing as they took in Jeff’s pipe on the coffee table.
“Your brother here?”
“He’s still in bed,” I said. “Not really a morning person.”