Beautiful Outlaw by Emily Minton

The Call

Bowie

I cut the engine and swing my leg over the bike as soon as I pull into Nina’s driveway.  This is the fourth day in a row I’ve been here, the fourth day of having Shay on the back of my bike.  I’ve never done this shit before; I fuck women, I don’t date them.  Not that Shay and I have been on a date, just riding out together.  Still, being with her is different. 

I’m about to step onto Nina’s porch when my phone rings.  Pulling it from my jacket, I see the number of Lock’s burner phone flash across the screen.  After four months of silence, his sudden call sends a chill of foreboding down my spine. “It’s about fuckin’ time you called.”

“I don’t have time for your shit. Just listen,” Lock huffs out.  “You need to keep Laura with you.”

Thinking of her intense reaction to that name earlier, I automatically correct him.  “Her name’s Shay now.”

He ignores me and keeps talking.  “Mom’s in the hospital. The doctors say she won’t be coming home this time.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck!  “I’m sorry, brother.”

I hear him take in a deep breath, obviously trying to get a hold on his emotions.  “Me too, Bowie, but that’s not why I called.  Mom’s drugged up, talking out of her head.  Marcus made an appearance earlier, and she started talking about how Laura was safe from him now.  She went on and on. I couldn’t get her to quiet down.”

I think about his words for a moment, wondering exactly what this means for his sister. Even though Lock and Shay never told me the full story, Nina did; at least, she told me the important parts.   She said Shay would have to decide to tell me the rest.  If everything she told Nina was true, the reason behind her disappearance won’t be here much longer.

As much as the thought of Lock’s mom dying kills me, I ask my question anyway. “She’s only staying away so your mom doesn’t lose her medical coverage, right?”

“Yeah, that’s why she left.”

Not knowing how to say it without sounding like a motherfucker, I just lay it out for him. “I hate to say it, man, so don’t think I’m being a dick. If your mom’s not gonna be here much longer, is it such a big deal if the bastard knows the truth?”

He goes quiet again; this time I’m not sure what’s going on in his mind.  Finally, he responds in a voice so cold it makes the hairs stand up on the back on my neck.  “He’s got another girl.”

“What?” I ask, wondering what the fuck is going on now.  

“After the funeral, he let me come into the house and get some shit of Laura’s- not much, just family pictures and stuff.  I planted a few bugs, just wanted to listen and make sure that he didn’t know what was going on.”

He takes a long pause, and I can hear the flick of a lighter. After in deep draw, he continues. “The girl started making appearances in his bed about a month ago.”

“Why the fuck does it matter if he has a new girl? That just means that Shay could come home and be free to do what she wants, get a divorce, live life how she wants.”  The possibility of her life not including me pisses me way the fuck off, but I shake it off and try to focus on the conversation.   

“It’s the same shit that Laura told me about.”

Confusion is an understatement for what I’m feeling.  I pull out my own cigarette and place it between my lips.  Lighting it, I pull in a deep drag and ask, “What the hell are you talking about, man?”

“He calls her Gwendolyn.  Every fuckin’ time he has her in his bed, he calls her his dead wife’s name.” I can feel the skin on my arms prickle as he explains.  “When I first saw her, she had brown hair.  I saw her again today, sitting in his car at the hospital.  She has red hair now. He’s got himself a new Gwendolyn.”

“He’s one crazy bastard,” I mutter as I lean against the porch rail.  My heart is pumping double time as fear for the woman inside courses through my veins. 

“My thoughts exactly.”

A deep seeded desire to protect her started to take root the moment Lock asked me to pick her up from the bus station, but I managed to tap it down when the ice queen appeared. Now? The desire has taken root, and a vicious need to destroy anything that dares to harm the woman I plan to claim rages just under the surface.

Doing my best to control my anger, I ask, “You’re the cop.  You know all about this fucked up shit. What does this mean for Shay?”

“I’m not sure, but the bastard is crazy, even more so than I thought.  If he finds out she’s still alive, there’s no telling what he would do.  I can guarantee it wouldn’t be pretty though.” 

Squeezing the railing, I raise my voice.  “Damn it, Lock.  This isn’t good.”

“No, it’s not,” he says, his voice filled with worry.  “I’m scared for her, Bowie.  I’m scared out of my fuckin’ mind for my baby sister.”

I draw in another puff off my smoke, letting his words sink in.  “Like I said, it’s bad, but how does it change anything?  I know your Mom told him shit, but she’s sick.  The bastard couldn’t know for sure that she wasn’t just talking out of her head. How I see it, we just keep doing what we’re doing.  He doesn’t know she’s here, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Even as I say the words, they sound hollow, like a dream I know will never come true.  There is not a doubt in my mind that if the crazy fucker even thinks she’s alive, he’ll be looking for her.  My only question is if he will find her or not, and if he does, what the hell can I do to protect her?

“Like I told you, I planted bugs in his place.  As soon I got home from the hospital, I pulled his feed up.  He was talking to someone on the phone, hired them to do a search on her, on me too.”

“Fuck!” This time, I shout the word.  “What can they find? Is there anything linking her to here?”

“I’m not sure, but I don’t think so. I need you to keep her close until I know for sure.”

“She won’t be out of my fuckin’ sight,” I growl out just as Shay opens the door.

The look on her face is pure agony.  There is no doubt in my mind that she has heard everything I’ve said, and each word has cut her to the quick.  “Brother, I’ve gotta go.  Your sister needs me.”

“Shit, did she hear?” he asks, sounding defeated. 

I don’t answer, just mutter goodbye and slide the phone in my pocket. I toss my cigarette over the porch rail and walk straight to her. I wrap my arms around her and start to talk.  “It’ll be alright, Shay.”

She leans her head against my chest, wetting the front of my shirt. “My mom’s dying, and I can’t even be there with her.  I’m her daughter, and I can’t even say goodbye. Nothing about that is right.”