Blue Colla Make Ya Holla (19 page)

I want to scream at her and demand answers. I want her to tell me how she could forget about me so easily after being best friends our entire lives. How could she throw away all the plans we made? How could she walk away from fifteen years of seeing me every day, talking to me every day? Every day while I was in prison, I waited and hoped for a letter or a visit, but it never came. At first I thought something awful happened to her, but then Riley came to visit and told me she moved away to live with family. Every fucking day my heart grew harder and colder. As much as I tried to hate her, there was always that part of me that hung on to my love for her. And now that I’ve seen her again, ten years later, that little part has sparked up again.

We’re not kids anymore, though, and I’m gonna make sure Marlie gets a good hard look at the man she gave up. If she thinks she forgot me, she’s in for a rude awaking, because I aim to make sure she never forgets me again.
Payback is a bitch, honey.

*

I start tearing
down a wall in my house because the destruction helps me deal with my frustrations and anger. I was going to put this project off for a few months, but now feels like a good time. I bought this house last year as a fixer upper, but I could see the potential it had. It’s on ten acres of land, so no one is near me, which is exactly how I like it. I can sit on my farmer’s porch and drink beers and smoke cigarettes and blast music, and no one gives a shit. There’s an old two-story barn I’ll be fixing up and turning into a workshop. In my spare time, I still like to make metal sculptures and woodcarvings. Who knows, maybe someday I can sell some of that stuff. For now, though, it’s all sitting there for my eyes only.

Already, with this wall down, I can envision the open concept kitchen and dining room. I’m going to put hardwood floors throughout because I love the warmth and character of wood. Tile is too cold for me and will only go in the bathrooms. I plan to make the kitchen killer, with stainless steel appliances and broken glass backsplash that I’m fabricating myself. I wish I had a woman to share this with me, but that isn’t in the cards it seems. I’ve yet to meet a woman who makes me feel anything more than of the urge to have sex for a few hours. Seeing Marlie all grown up stirred a lot of desires in me. I can only imagine how hot sex would be with her now that we’re both adults. Her body looked fuckin’ slamming in those tight jeans the other day. She may be short, but damn she’s got curves in all the right places. I’ll lose my mind if I see her around town with another guy, especially if it’s someone I know.

Marlie

‡

I
’m white-knuckling
the steering wheel as I’m driving over to meet Twist to talk about my bike. I wish he didn’t make me so nervous.

Bitchface Blondie is at the front counter again when I arrive.

“Can I help you?” she asks with that same bored expression. I can’t believe they would hire someone like this to be the first person to greet their customers. Bike shop or not, no customer wants to deal with an attitude from someone. Or maybe she only treats me like this.

“I’m here to see Twist.”

“Are you Mary?”

“Um, Marlie,” I correct her.

“Whatever. He said you could just go back.”

“Thanks, sweetie,” I say, just to annoy her as I walk by.

Twist is in his work area blasting rock music so loud that I have to yell to get his attention.

“Hey!”

He turns suddenly and flashes me his panty-dropping smile.
Damn him.

“Good, you’re here,” he says. He’s got my bike set up on a small lift already. He turns down the music a little so we can hear each other and turns to face me. “I went over your work order with Riley. We’re gonna have to lower the front and rear suspension, and I can cut some of the padding out of the seat and shove some gel padding under there for you; that should give us another inch off the height.”

“Awesome,” I reply.

“We’ll get you some new mid controls and order you some black leather saddle bags. I saw some cool vintage-style ones with rivets that would look really nice on this. How about those?”

I nod enthusiastically. “Yes, that sounds great. I trust you.”

“Cool. I’m not going to go over all the mechanical details of what we’re going to do unless you want me to.”

“No, that’s okay. I just want to be able to reach the ground—however you get me there is fine with me.”

“Got it. So…paint job. What are you thinking?”

“Hmmm…ya know, this is the hardest part. I really like the black base but want something really unique over it. At first I was thinking airbrushed wolves, but that’s not very original, is it?”

He’s staring at me, contemplating. I know that look well—it’s what he looks like when he is thinking up something great.

“I do have an idea,” he offers, raising his eyebrows at me. “But, you’d have to trust me with complete creative control and let me just do my thing.”

“So no hints at all what you’re thinking? How do I know you won’t put something butt-ugly on there?” I tease.

“I would never do that. Trust me, it will be hot as hell. Just like its owner.” His gaze lingers over my body as he says it.
Holy shit.
Is he flirting with me?

I swallow as my body wants to melt into a puddle at his feet. “Okay. Do whatever you want,” I finally say.

He smirks like the devil and walks around the bike. “Oh, I plan to, and you’re going to love it when I’m done.”

Heat spreads over my body at his words. Ten years has not erased the memory of his touch. My body remembers how his tongue once slid over every inch of my body, how he rocked into me so slowly, whispering in my ear, lulling me into my first orgasms.

“Marlie?”

“Huh?”

“Daydreaming, are we?” he teases.

“You wish,” I shoot back, hoping to hide the way he’s flustering me. What is this game he’s playing now?

“I think I have everything I need, then,” he replies. “Do you have any questions?”

“How much is this going to cost me?”

“I talked to Pops and Riley, and we’re not going to charge you for the labor, just parts.”

I’m taken aback by this nice gesture that I don’t feel like I deserve. “Oh no, I can’t accept that, Twist. That’s not fair for you.”

He shakes his head. “It’s fine. Pops likes that you’re doing community service with your pet rescue. He’s always liked you; he wants you to stop by and say hi, actually.”

“I would love to see him again. Does he still come in here at all?”

“He’s had some heart issues, so he’s kinda retired. He still comes in here and hangs around, though.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. How’s your mom?”

“Very good. She would also love to see you. She misses you.”

I miss them too. They were all like a second family to me. “I miss her too,” I reply. “I’ll try to stop by if you’re sure it’s okay?”

“Of course. They don’t blame you, Marlie. Not a bit.”

I still feel guilty over the fact that my father sent their youngest son to prison for a year. I don’t know how they got through that. Or how Twist got through that.
Without me.

“Let’s say about two thousand, on the high end, for parts and the bags. I’ll keep it as low as I can,” Twist says. “That okay for you?”

“Yes, that’s great. I really do appreciate it.”

“No problem. Did you catch the dog?”

I sigh, thinking about the elusive little dog. “No, but I got a fox. Which makes me nervous that a fox is running around where the dog is hanging out. The little dog could be dead by now. I guess I can’t save them all,” I say sadly. I wish I could, and this is the hard part of rescue.

“I’m sorry, Marlie. That sucks.”

I nod and force myself to smile. “It does. But maybe he’s still out here. I better get going; my number is on there if you have any questions. How long do you think you need?”

He thinks for a minute and chews the tip of the pen he’s holding. “Two or three weeks.”

“That would be great. Thank you for doing this for me.”

“No worries. Do you have anyone to ride with once you get this back?”

“No, not yet, but I just moved here. I’m sure I’ll find someone.”

“It’s not safe to ride alone, Marlie. Especially on a new bike. I’ll go with you on your first few rides. If you want.” His eyes bore into mine, making my heart pause. It may be small, but it’s a crack in the doorway back into his life. A shard of light is shining through, giving me hope. Maybe he can forgive me.

“Okay. Yeah.” My ability to form complete sentences has apparently gone on vacation.

*

The shelter is
busy when I arrive; there are two couples wanting to see dogs, and one family wanting a kitten. I look over their applications and then hand them to Wendy to do some reference checks. Annette, my other volunteer, takes the family to the kitten room, and I deal with the dog couples. Three hours later, they all are heading home with their new pets, huge smiles on their faces. This is the kind of day I love—when my fur babies start on their journey to their forever homes. We take pictures of all adopters with their new pets and post them on a huge bulletin board out front. So far, we have homed three elderly dogs, six young dogs, and twelve cats of various ages. We have a strict contract that requires the adopters to return the pet to us if anything should not work out. I do not want any of my babies out there in unhappy homes, being tied up outside, or given away to some random person.

On my way home, I check the trap for the little dog and add fresh food. I’m really worried about this little guy, as the last sighting for him was two days ago. I say a silent prayer he is safe and I can catch him soon. I’m going to have to research some other ideas for catching elusive dogs.

After taking care of Mrs. Montagne’s house and pets, I eat a quick dinner and head to bed to read. I am exhausted but can’t stop thinking about Twist and the way he acted today and what it could possibly mean. Is it possible, after all this time, we could ever be together again? I just don’t know if he could ever forgive me for not contacting him or telling him the truth about why. I can’t even forgive myself, so I don’t know how I can expect him to forgive.

Twist

‡