Blood & Bones: Ozzy by Jeanne St. James

Chapter Three

“I figuredyou went home by now,” Shay said as she entered the office, surprised to find the same man who checked her in this morning still working.

The motel employee named Ozzy jerked his head toward the open stairway behind him. “Live upstairs.”

“Oh…” She frowned. “Does that mean you are the owner?” If so, why wouldn’t he have said that when she handed him her business card?

“Manager.”

He was once again behind the counter but casually leaning into it. She didn’t miss it when his eyes took a slow stroll from the top of her pinned-up, heavily hair-sprayed hair to her open-toed heels. She smoothed out her blouse, drawing his gaze back there, even though she didn’t mean to.

“You must work long hours then, since you checked me in early this morning and now it’s…” She glanced at the gold Movado watch with the black dial her mother bought her when she graduated with honors from Bloomsburg. “After five.”

She normally didn’t wear a watch, but figured tonight was a special occasion and she wanted to feel like her mother was with her. Especially since her mother had always been her strength and encouragement.

Even so, she had a pit in her stomach and was feeling anxious. Not to mention, a little nauseous.

“I’m sure it’s too late to switch my room now. I slept like the dead all day.” The noise from the office being next door didn’t disturb her at all like he thought it might.

“Yeah. Fully booked now. Thought about wakin’ you up but since you said you needed the sleep, decided not to disturb you. You were right.”

“About what?”

“Most of the guests checkin’ in today were for your class reunion.”

She wondered if they volunteered that information or he asked them just as many questions as he’d asked her.

She stepped up to the counter and stared at the tattooed man with the neatly trimmed, but thick, salt-and-pepper beard, the beautiful gray eyes and the very broad shoulders. He was now dressed in jeans, a black leather belt with a clunky metal belt buckle and another T-shirt—this one advertising some Harley Davidson dealership in Idaho—that fit much better, unlike the stretched-out, stained plain black tee he had worn earlier.

His hair now looked somewhat combed, too, unlike this morning when his very dark blonde, but mostly gray, hair was sticking up all over the place, like he’d just rolled out of bed. The “pepper” part of his beard seemed to be much darker than his hair. But then, most men’s facial hair was darker than the hair on their heads. The wiry hairs below the belt tended to be darker, too.

Now it made sense why he’d looked that disheveled during check-in. Since he lived upstairs, she must have woken him when she came in as early as she had.

Another difference easily spotted was the long black beaded necklace he wore around his neck. It was long enough to almost reach his navel and reminded her of Boho-style jewelry. She wondered if it had any special meaning or if he just wore it because he liked it. Maybe it was something spiritual for him, similar to a rosary.

Since it wasn’t her business, she didn’t ask, unlike him earlier when he asked her all kinds of questions.

She didn’t like when strangers asked her personal questions like that, but maybe he was just being overly friendly and didn’t realize it had been on the verge of making her uncomfortable. Talking about her business was one thing, she could talk about that all day since sometimes it drummed up more work, but anything else…

While she was checking out the black beaded necklace, trying to figure out what the symbol was on the bottom, he grabbed it and dropped it into the neckline of his shirt, hiding it from her view.

“That’s beautiful, why hide it?” she asked, putting him in the same spot as he had earlier when he told her not to hide her face when she laughed. Or smiled.

A habit she’d had since she was an awkward teen and had not been able to break since then. She did it more when she was anxious or her reactions were being closely watched. Like the way he was watching her this morning.

“Gets in the way,” he muttered.

Ah, maybe now he was uncomfortable. But she respected that and wouldn’t push. She would love to take a closer look at the necklace since it seemed to be hand-crafted by some artisan and not a mass-produced piece anyone could simply grab at a local jewelry store. She would also love to know the meaning behind it.

The beads reminded her of something a free-spirited individual would wear and wondered how free the man before her was.

He was tied to this office. Tied to his work, really, if he only lived upstairs.

Once again, her nervousness about the upcoming reunion and seeing classmates she hadn’t seen in twenty years, made her fuss with her silk blouse. And once again, his eyes were drawn to her motion, but paused on her breasts.

Before she could think better of it, she asked, “Do I look okay?”

Holy smokes, why did she ask him that?

For a long moment, he continued to stare at her breasts. When he slowly raised his gaze, he shook his head. “No.”

She didn’t? She glanced down and smoothed her hand down the front once more.

He straightened and, in a flash, was around the counter and standing in her space just like he had when she worked at the computer checking herself in. And just like then, him being that close made her realize how solid of a man he was. He wasn’t overly tall, but he was just big. And not just his physical presence.

He snagged her wrist, stopping her nervous fabric-smoothing action and forced her hand back to her side. She started and held her breath when he reached for her.

No, he wasn’t reaching for her. Not exactly. But for the buttons on her blouse.

What was he—

“Gotta loosen up a bit.” He freed one button out of its jail, then another, then one more, stopping once her cleavage was exposed. Her royal blue silk blouse was now open to just above her bra.

She pressed a hand to her exposed chest. “I…”

Then… What the hell? He was yanking the pins from her hair and tossing them over his shoulder, undoing all the work she had done to put it up and make sure it stayed up.

“What—” He ignored her flapping hands as she tried to slap his away.

Her long hair fell around her face and he dragged his fingers through it, fluffing it and totally destroying the conservative style.

She should be appalled. She should smack him for touching her like that.

She should…

“Bend over.”

Her eyes went wide. “What?”

“Trust me. Bend over.”

Trust him? She didn’t even know him. It was bad enough he unbuttoned her blouse and undid her hair, but now the man wanted her to bend over.

Just like that.

Sure, Jack. “I—”

“You trusted me enough to ask for my opinion. Gave it to you. You asked if you looked okay. Told you no. Now… you want me to get you to where I’d say yes? Or you gonna ignore the opinion you asked for?”

She blinked.

She couldn’t tell if he was simply an asshole or just honest.

“The way you were lookin’ made you look like you got a stick up your ass. Looked better this mornin’ after you drove all night.”

Ouch. But she still wasn’t sure if he was being an asshole or being honest.

“Bend over. Promise you’ll thank me after.”

“I’ve heard that one before,” she muttered.

He snorted.

She sighed.

And, of course, bent over. Because, apparently, he was an expert. She mentally rolled her eyes.

“Shake your tits.”

Really?

She groaned with embarrassment as she wiggled her shoulders and her breasts shifted in her bra.

“All right,” he murmured. “That’ll do it.”

She stood up and paused, feeling a bit light-headed. As soon as that passed, her hands automatically went up to fix her hair, to smooth her blouse, to tuck her boobs back away since the nipples were on the brink of flashing him. But he snagged both of her wrists on the way to do all of that and held them tight, preventing her from undoing his work.

“Look at me.”

The deep timbre of his voice could topple nations. Or simply make everything inside her clench tight and her nipples pucker.

A memory flashed before her.

He reminded her of someone. Someone from her past.

Not of someone who made her aware of her sexuality but someone who spoke like him and acted like him, too.

Outspoken. Opinionated. A bit rough around the edges but, when he wanted to be, was an expert smooth talker.

She quickly tossed that memory away.

“Yeah, now you got real color in your cheeks. Hair lookin’ like you’re freshly fucked. Your tits poppin’ and on point. Fuck yeah. Now you look okay.”

She doubted the color in her cheeks would stay since it was caused from a blush. “Are you sure?”

“Truth? Completely fuckable. All the men are gonna want you. All the women are gonna wanna be you.”

Wow.That was some compliment. Or was it? Maybe he was just hitting on her.

“Said you came alone. You got a man?”

She shook her head and her loose hair felt so much more comfortable than when it was pinned to her head. Much more natural, instead of her trying to be someone she wasn’t.

But she had wanted to look sophisticated, not “fuckable.” She didn’t come to the reunion to hook up with anyone, she only wanted to prove to her classmates she existed. She wanted them to finally notice her because all throughout high school she felt and was treated like she was invisible.

“Kids?” he asked next.

He was really nosy. Maybe he was hitting on her. She recognized the signs easier now that she was older, but for a long time after high school, and even during college, when a man flirted, she thought he was just doing it as a joke. Or to trap her in some prank.

Because the only time she had been noticed during junior or senior high school was when she had been bullied.

The exact reason why she skipped her fifth, tenth and fifteenth class reunions. For a long time she figured none of those people were worth her time or attention. But then after her divorce, she suddenly felt the need to face them again. The same way she faced her ex across the table during mediation.

It hit her that, when she survived her divorce and survived her husband cheating on her, she was strong enough to survive seeing the people who treated her like nothing. Less than nothing.

She was a strong, successful woman and it was time to act that way and show the world—and herself—it was true. Shay Diggs had a damn spine and that spine was now built from steel.

But here she was, standing in a motel, back in Manning Grove, Pennsylvania, the place of not so great memories, bending over and shaking her breasts because the man who worked there simply told her to.

Like suddenly she lost that spine and became a puppet.

Maybe it was foolish, but, hey, his advice couldn’t hurt. And with what he suggested, she suddenly found herself back in her own skin and not feeling like she was wearing a costume, trying to be someone who she certainly wasn’t.

Because in truth, she was hardly conservative. She was more of a free-spirit herself. She thought once again about the beaded necklace he hid.

“Since you didn’t answer, gonna take that as a no. So, you ain’t tied down with a ball and chain, got no kids. You’re a goddamn free woman.”

That was a weird comment, but it was true. She now only answered to herself. But she was curious… “How about you? Are you free?”

“Nobody’s really free, sweetheart. Freedom’s just an illusion. But you gotta own that shit and live as free as you can.”

The guy was a little rough around the edges but he did have some good advice. That made her say what she said next. “I hate to admit this but… I’m nervous.”

“About what?”

“How they’ll treat me.”

His eyebrows pinned together. “Who?”

She flapped a hand around. “Any of them. All of them.”

“Then why the fuck are you goin’?”

Right. A simple question with a not-so-simple answer.

For the most part, she wanted to prove to herself she could. But if she told him that, he’d want to know why and she didn’t really want to explain it.

While he acted like he knew her, in reality, they didn’t know each other at all. They were strangers whose paths just happened to cross at that moment. After tomorrow, they’d continue on their own paths.

“Look, trust me…”

Trust me. It was really strange, she normally didn’t trust people right off the bat, it took some time for someone new to gain her trust. But something about him settled her and made her want to trust him. Again, maybe it was foolish… But it wasn’t like they were going out on a date or anything, he was just an employee in the motel she happened to be staying at.

How outspoken he was kind of amused her. She wished she could be more like him without worrying about someone judging her.

Again, a deeply ingrained worry. She had worked hard on that issue over the years but hadn’t completely eradicated it.

“Those motherfuckers are gonna be jealous as all fuck. A lot of them are gonna be stuck in miserable marriages, got too many kids or kids that hate them. You’re gonna walk your sexy ass, wearing those sex-assed heels, into that reunion and act like a boss. In attitude and also in reality since you are your own boss. Gotta answer to no one but yourself. Right?”

She smiled and forced herself not to hide it. “You’re right. I’m going to go in there like a fucking boss.” That was the whole reason she came back. To do just that. To show them she was no longer invisible.

He grinned. “For fuck’s sake, sweetheart, that smile…”

As soon as she flattened it out, he shook his head and frowned.

He stepped toe to toe with her, cupped her face with his big hand and locked those amazing gray eyes with hers. “Know it when men tell women to smile, they hate it. Sometimes their nuts even get rearranged. So, I’m gonna take a big fuckin’ risk here and tell you to smile. You smile like you just did when you’re there tonight, you’re gonna own them.” He shook his head. “Fuck that. You’re gonna own the fuckin’ world.”

“You really know how to give a pep talk. Do you have your own self-help podcast?”

“My own what?”

She shook her head.

His fingertips brushed along her skin as he dropped his hand and took a step back, finally giving her some space. “Just callin’ it as I see it.”

“Well, thank you. You reminded me who I am. I guess I needed that little slap upside the head.”

“Shouldn’t need remindin’.”

“Sometimes we all need a little reminding,” she countered.

He tipped his head to the side in agreement.

Shay glanced at her watch again. “Okay, I need to get going.” Too bad she couldn’t take him with her. She could listen to his “pep talks” all night.

She wondered if he even owned a suit. If he did, he probably would look damn hot in it. Add some fancy cuff links and a sharp tie in a gray to match those eyes…

But he didn’t seem the type to like to wear suits. Or even a suit jacket.

That was perfectly okay with her because the heels she was wearing were already killing her feet and she was counting down the minutes to when she could go back to her room, kick them off and go barefoot again.

She headed toward the exit.

“Have a good night, Shay. Go slay those motherfuckers.”

She paused with her hand on the door’s push bar and took a last glance over her shoulder. “Thank you.”

He jerked his chin up at her and shot her a grin. “Ain’t nothin’.”

She shoved the door open and stepped out into the humidity of the mid-August evening.

No, he was wrong.

Maybe he didn’t realize it, but, to her, it had been everything.

* * *

A clusterof butterflies were having a good ol’ time at the disco party in her stomach while Shay wandered around the high school gym, a glass of wine in one hand, her clutch in the other.

Tonight the gym wasn’t as she remembered it since it was brightly decorated for the event and didn’t look as intimidating. Throughout her years here, it, and the locker room, had always sent her spiraling into a panic.

She hated dressing and undressing for gym class and did everything she could not to use the showers. Other girls in her class would strut around in their pretty matching bras and panties, while Shay hadn’t even needed a bra.

Hers was two triangles of cloth just to cover her nipples. They certainly didn’t need to support anything. Two Band-Aids would have done just as good of a job.

As a teen she had been skinny and gawkward, her term for being both gawky and awkward. No matter how much she ate, she was much skinner than she should be for her age. Her thinness had caused her to be labeled as “willowy” from kind people and a whole host of other names from those who weren’t.

She stopped in an uncrowded corner of the large gym and lifted her fingers to her cheek. All night she kept remembering Ozzy’s warm, but firm, touch there when he locked gazes with her and told her to smile tonight.

The way he’d said it seemed to be more of an order than a suggestion, but even so, as soon as she had walked through the high school’s doors, she had pasted that smile on her face. Though, it wasn’t as genuine like the ones he caused.

When her name was checked off the attendance list and her “Hi, my name is…” name sticker was given to her to fill out, she recognized the two women manning the table.

They didn’t recognize her.

At least at first.

But when she was told to write her maiden name in parenthesis under her current name on the sticker, and she did so, both women’s eyes widened and they shot a quick glance at each other.

Then Maggie Miller exclaimed, “You look great, Shaylyn!”

She wasn’t sure if the compliment was genuine or not, not that she cared either way. The two women were among many who had made fun of her during her high school years and never once made an effort to be nice.

Not once.

Shay had lifted her chin, pulled her shoulders back and snapped her steel spine into place. “You can call me Shay. No one calls me Shaylyn.”

“I see you’re married!” Pennie Corbin piped in. She made a show of looking around and “searching” behind Shay, even though Shay was the only person standing in front of the table. Her over-plucked eyebrows dropped low. “Where’s your husband?”

Shay kept her expression deadpan as she said, “Dead.”

Both women’s mouths dropped open and their eyebrows shot up.

Channeling Ozzy’s confidence, she followed it with, “I’m much happier now.” She tapped the table in front of the two ladies. “I hope we get a chance to catch up later.”

She turned, careful not to trip on her heels, and strode through the propped open double doors into the gym. She immediately spotted the cash bar and headed in that direction.

She could use a glass of wine or two.

Now, an hour later, she was slowly sipping on her second glass of cheap Cabernet and checking out the small clusters of chattering people scattered around the decorated gym.

Big smiles. Loud voices. And a lot of hugs.

At first, not one person had given her a hug. Not one person had even said hello. She assumed it was because they didn’t recognize her or thought she was someone’s wife. At least until they got close enough to read her name tag. Then they squinted and looked closer at her name and read it again.

When it hit them who she was, they finally looked at her.

And what did Shay do? Smiled and said hello. Pretended like these people were her long-lost friends.

“I didn’t recognize you, Shay!”

Yes, because if you had, you probably wouldn’t have approached me.

Once the alcohol began to loosen everyone up even more, the men began to approach.

Some she recognized, some she did not, and most she noticed had wedding bands. Not that their marital status stopped them. Nope. That didn’t stop them from hitting on her even though none of them had given her the time of day back then.

They might not remember her, but she remembered them.

A few of the guys asked if they could buy her another glass of wine. She politely declined since she didn’t accept drinks from strangers and, even though she graduated with most of the men who had approached, to her, that was what they were. Strangers.

She also had fun jogging their memory on who she was.

Eventually, if they had a significant other, that wife or girlfriend would come and collect him.

All through it, she smiled.

All through it, she successfully made small talk when necessary.

She also continued to sip on her wine.

“Guess those braces worked,” she heard from across the table when she sat down for the catered meal.

She lifted her wine glass and said, “Yes, they worked like braces should,” before taking another sip.

“And your glasses…”

She had had corrective lens surgery the second she could afford it. “No longer needed.”

She could also “hear” them wondering if she had gotten breast implants. But no one was brave enough to come out and ask. Instead, she pulled her shoulders back and let them wonder.

She hadn’t. Besides the assistance from the braces and laser eye surgery, everything on her was all her. No fake nails, no fake eyelashes, no painted on eyebrows.

And no implants.

Her breasts weren’t large but they were enough and since Ozzy had exposed her cleavage, they still drew some male eyes. Probably wondering if, at thirty-eight, they were really as perky as they looked or if she was wearing a push-up bra.

They were and she wasn’t.

Her chest was no longer as “flat as a two-by-four.” Since high school, her hips had also flared out slightly and her ass was no longer a “soggy pancake.”

Doing squats and workouts to create more shape to her naturally slender body, had helped take care of that.

She was now quite happy with how she looked after years of being unhappy.

She had been the trifecta. Extremely smart, an awkward nerd and a “bean pole.” So thin that she could “fall through a crack” and never be seen again.

Some days she actually hoped that would happen. It didn’t.

It also didn’t help that she had to wear thick glasses to correct her vision, braces to correct her gapped and crooked teeth, and knew nothing about style or makeup at the time.

She no longer looked like a “boy” wearing girls’ clothing. She no longer looked like she should use the boys’ locker room instead of the girls’.

She also could see perfectly fine, unlike when someone ripped her glasses off her face and flung them far enough she had difficulty finding them again.

One time one of the football jocks offered her two glass soda bottles to use instead. He said they should work the same. Another time, in science class after someone stole and hid her glasses, a classmate handed her two large magnifying glasses and suggested she tape them to her face.

If she ever heard “boys will be boys” or “kids will be kids” again it would be too soon.

Long ago, she had decided if she ever had children, she would never use that excuse. To Shay, there was no excuse for children to be cruel or to bully one another.

None.

During her years in high school, she never got invited to hang out after school or to parties and even if she had, she probably just would’ve stayed home to study or read. Keeping her nose in a book, whether fiction or non-fiction, was her happy place. Her escape from reality.

High school, both junior and senior high, had never been her happy place. And only because of her fellow classmates. The people she was now surrounded by and having dinner with.

So, why the hell had she decided to come back here and do this? Why did she choose to stir up old memories?

To remind herself that these people could no longer make her miserable. To take back the power she’d given them, starting over twenty-five years ago.

Now that power belonged to her.

And she wielded it like a weapon the rest of the night.

She slayed those motherfuckers.