Blood & Bones: Ozzy by Jeanne St. James

Chapter Four

As Shay steeredher Lexus UX Hybrid into the empty spot in front of her room, the headlights lit up the man sprawled in one of the two green-painted Adirondack chairs in front of the motel’s office.

She finished parking, shut off her SUV and sat in the driver’s seat a moment, staring through her side window at the man to her left who sat alone. The only thing breaking up the darkness of the night was the soft light shining through the large picture window from inside the office behind him and the double bulb fixture above the entrance. Several spotlights illuminated the darkest corners of the paved parking lot, but where he sat was, for the most part, in the shadows.

A glowing cigarette was in his fingers and when he lifted it to his lips, it flared brighter in the dark as he inhaled.

Had he been waiting for her to return?

Was she wrong about him and he was some sort of psycho?

She glanced through her windshield at her room and knew, even though the door was only a few steps away from her Lexus, she wouldn’t be able to escape without him talking to her.

Maybe her brain was overthinking it all and he was simply working late and only stepped outside to smoke.

She wouldn’t care as much about getting caught in conversation if she wasn’t already mentally drained from her evening of having to be “on” all night. Smiling, chatting, sipping on wine—but stretching it out so she didn’t get loopy—and also dodging wandering hands when asked to dance.

She almost turned down those invitations to hit the area set up for dancing, but decided not to feel intimidated and accepted a select few. Only one former classmate ended up getting handsy enough that she was forced to leave the dance floor early. She had realized too late he’d had too much to drink. He was listing off kilter anyway and might have ended up on his ass if they’d continued.

When he complained loudly about Shay deserting him on the dance floor, one of his buddies dragged him off and over to his seat to keep him from making a bigger fool out of himself.

Unfortunately, his buddy was too late.

By then, most of her classmates had figured out who she was. And no one, not a damn one, had apologized for treating her like shit during high school. Because she hadn’t expected any apologies, or even any admissions of regret, she wasn’t disappointed when none came.

But tonight, by visiting the past, it reminded her how far she’d come and how she didn’t need anyone’s acceptance to be happy with both herself and the direction her life had taken.

While she could wish her teenage years had been different, she couldn’t take a trip back in time to change it. She had to look back on it as a harsh life lesson on how people treated each other. Only she alone could push herself to move up and move on, she couldn’t rely on anyone else to give her that shove.

Even so, she had gotten far in the last twenty years of learning how to accept herself and she shouldn’t allow tonight to drag her backwards.

She also couldn’t sit in her car forever and it would be rude of her to head right to her room without even saying hello. Especially after he helped her out earlier. Twice.

Treat people as you would like to be treated.

Another life lesson she wished more people took to heart.

She grabbed her key fob and her clutch, shoved open the driver’s door and climbed out, trying not to twist an ankle as she did so. Her feet ached and her toes might be permanently crippled since she wasn’t used to wearing three-inch heels.

In fact, she’d only bought these shoes for tonight’s occasion. She couldn’t imagine she’d get another opportunity to wear royal blue heels that matched her silk blouse anywhere else. If she happened to get invited to an event where she had to wear heels, she might be tempted to decline the invite.

Shay carefully made her way over to Ozzy, who continued to casually smoke, not saying a word. Even in the shadows, she could see his eyes tracking her as she closed the distance between them.

She guessed she could have shouted out a simple, but friendly, hello and goodnight from the car, but something about him drew her over. If she was forced to admit it, even if only to herself, it wasn’t just about not being rude.

She bet if she sat down in the chair next to him and spent the rest of the night talking with the man, she would have a much better time with him than she did at her class reunion.

“See you survived. How was it?”

As tired as she was, his gravelly voice suddenly woke up everything inside her.

He wasn’t even her type, so she didn’t understand why her body was reacting the way it was to him.

“To put it simply, enlightening.”

“Not sure if that’s good or bad.”

“Neither,” she answered truthfully.

As he sucked in the next lungful of smoke, she wrinkled her nose. Whatever he was smoking didn’t smell like tobacco.

“Are you smoking a doobie?”

Ozzy snorted and the smoke shot out of his nose. “A doobie?”

She flapped a hand around. “Whatever it’s called. I don’t know. I’ve never…”

“You never smoked weed… ever? Not even in school with your friends?”

“I guess you would have to have friends to succumb to peer pressure.”

“Don’t gotta be peer pressure. Could just be havin’ fun. You know, like at a party.”

“Had to have friends to be invited to a party.”

He glanced up at her, his brow furrowed. “Were you a cunt or somethin’? Why didn’t you have friends?”

She blinked at his easy use of the C-word. It wasn’t a word most people threw around lightly, though she had silently said it in her head several times tonight. But, thankfully, not once had it accidentally slipped out.

“Oh, probably because I was a shy, awkward nerd who let myself think no one liked me because I wasn’t good enough. That’s one reason.”

“Why’d you think you weren’t good enough?”

She debated giving him more than she had earlier today, but what would it hurt? “Basically, I was invisible. And when I wasn’t, I wished I was.”

“How could you have been invisible?” He ran his gaze from the top of her head to her aching toes. “Don’t look invisible to me.” He tipped his head at the chair next to him. “Take a load off. Those shoes are hot as fuck, but I bet they fuck up your feet.”

“They do.”

“Then sit.”

She stared at the chair he had indicated and, with an accompanying sigh, settled next to him and watched him take another inhale of his… “What should I call that so I don’t sound like a dork?”

He blew the smoke up and away from her and casually lifted his shoulders. “Joint will work. Better than doobie.”

His deep chuckle had her smiling at her own faux pas. His eyes landed on her smile and his chuckle faded away. But then, so did her smile.

“Get up,” he suddenly demanded.

“What? You just told me to sit.”

“Know it. Get back up.”

He was so damn bossy. When she was about to tell him that, he lifted both eyebrows, stopping her before even the first word was released. Instead, she rolled her eyes at him and then groaned when she stood due to the pain in her arches. And her toes. And her heels.

Hell, in every part of her feet.

He quickly got to his and adjusted both wood chairs until they faced each other. Then he tipped his head to her chair again and ordered, “Sit.”

She opened her mouth once more in preparation to inform him about how bossy he was and, once again, he only lifted both eyebrows. He then pointed to the chair and, of course, she sat.

She mentally sighed at herself for obeying him. “Does everyone simply follow your orders like that?”

Once she was settled comfortably back into her chair, he did the same, but now they faced each other.

“Nope. Just you.”

Of course. “Is there a reason we need to face each other?”

“Yep.” He patted his thigh. “Foot.”

Huh?

He tucked his marijuana cigarette between his lips, slapped his thigh again and repeated, “Foot.” Like he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“What—”

His sudden lunge forward made her heart seize and she sucked in a sharp breath. He grabbed one of her ankles, pulled her foot onto his lap, kept his long, warm fingers wrapped around it and ripped off her shoe, letting it drop to the pavement.

Holy smokes, it was amazing how good her foot suddenly felt simply by removing that torture device.

“Other one. Or do I gotta fetch that one, too?”

With an exaggerated, but fake, grumble of complaint, she put her other foot in his lap and this time he didn’t rush to slide the shoe off her foot.

Oh no, he took his time, the back of his knuckles sliding up the center of her sole as he removed it. Luckily her feet weren’t ticklish or he probably would have been accidentally kicked in the face.

Once he let that shoe drop to the ground, he took another long draw on his joint. When he was done, he held it out to her. “Will help you relax.”

She shook her head. “I can’t.”

“Not that you can’t, you won’t. There’s a difference.” As demanding as he was, she was relieved when he didn’t push her to partake in sharing the joint with him. Instead, he shrugged, took one more hit and ground out the lit end of the joint on the wide arm of the chair. Afterward, he tucked it inside the vest he was wearing, she assumed into some inner pocket.

The vest itself seemed to be made of black leather and had some patches on the front that were difficult to read in the limited light. But one she could make out easily since it only consisted of four letters.

OZZY.

It didn’t seem to be the typical vest someone wore while working a job, like at a retail store or pharmacy. Or a vest that housekeeping might wear at a motel.

No, it didn’t seem to be that kind of vest at all.

She gasped and her attention was pulled from those rectangular patches when he grabbed both of her feet, one in each of his large hands and began to work the soles with his strong thumbs.

She couldn’t stop the low groan that escaped her next. This time it wasn’t from pain, it was from pure, unadulterated pleasure.

Holy smokes.

She sounded as stoned as if she had smoked that joint, when she whispered, “You do this often?” Not only massaging random women’s feet, but feet in general.

“Nope.”

Well, he was a freaking expert. As his thumbs dug deeper, hitting all the sore spots, a shiver slid down her spine and woke up her nipples. She lifted her heavy eyelids and turned her gaze from his lap where he was creating heavenly bliss, to his face. He was no longer looking at her feet, either, he was staring at her with his face unreadable.

A stranger was massaging her feet. A stranger who was not a licensed professional.

Maybe he had some sort of foot fetish.

At the moment she didn’t care. What he was doing felt way too good and she was letting herself be selfish and enjoy it without trying to overthink it.

Don’t overthink it, Shay. If you do, the possibilities of why he’s doing what he’s doing may creep you out.

Just sit back, enjoy it and let yourself have this. Don’t say anything to ruin it. When was the last time a man massaged your feet?

Let me remind you… Never.

Not once.

She dropped her gaze back to his lap and his magical hands, and searched for the glint of a wedding band. Here she was overthinking it anyway and about to ruin it. “I see you’re not wearing a ring. You’re not married, right?”

Please say no.

It wouldn’t be appropriate for someone else’s husband to be rubbing her feet. If he was married, she would stop him immediately and give up the ecstasy she was experiencing.

Even if regretfully.

He put her right foot down in his lap, “Keep it there,” and began to work on the left one… With. Both. Hands.

Holy fucking smokes.

This was better than sex.

Please say you’re not married. Or engaged. Or in some sort of relationship where this would be so, so inappropriate.

“Ain’t married.”

“Engaged?” she squeaked when he hit a particularly tender spot.

“Ain’t nothin’.”

She had to disagree with that last answer. “You’re something all right.”

He snorted and planted the sole of her left foot on his chest and worked on the top of her foot and in between her toes.

Holy shit, she might orgasm!

But as high as her leg was raised, it had worked her black pencil skirt higher up her thighs. She quickly tugged it back down as far as she could so she didn’t give him a peep show. It might be dark but she still preferred if he didn’t get a good view of the floral pattern of her panties.

Or a glimpse of the dampening of her panties solely from his expert touch.

“Are you looking to get married?” she asked breathlessly, because if he said yes while she was in this boneless, euphoric state, she just might drag him to the courthouse.

Thankfully it wasn’t open until Monday morning so she was safe from that potentially rash decision.

“Fuck no.” He grinned, and put her left foot down and repeated the same orgasm-worthy massage on the right. “Musta left early. Nobody else has come back yet.”

“Ooh…” she moaned.

Wait, what? Oh, the reunion. That was right. That was why she was here in Manning Grove, staying at this motel and had met this man. “They were having,” she blew out a shaky breath to gather her thoughts, “an after-party at the hotel bar in town.”

She quickly went over in her head what she just said to make sure she didn’t slip a “Marry me!” demand somewhere in her answer.

“Didn’t wanna go?”

“Had enough fun for the night.” And this right here was so, so much better.

“Night’s early yet.”

He dropped the foot he was massaging back into his lap and began to rub both calves. She should stop him. What he was doing seemed too intimate.

She should…

She didn’t. She tipped her head back and rested it on the chair back, not caring at the moment how personal his touch was. Luckily, he didn’t push it and go higher than her knees.

Though, for a second, she kind of wished he would.

She was like putty in his skilled fingers.

She needed to keep her two massaged feet planted into reality instead of falling into some fantasy involving the man sitting there working her sore muscles.

Feeling too relaxed, her confession easily slipped from her. “Truth is, I had to force myself to talk to people tonight. People I didn’t dare talk to back then. It was one of my goals for coming back for this reunion, to interact with people I haven’t seen in twenty years. I wanted to push myself, prove I could do it, to remind myself that I’ve changed and will no longer allow them any control over my life. That I would no longer allow them to bully me. Or look through me like I didn’t exist.”

She looked at tonight like an eviction. It was time to kick these people out of her head.

His fingers paused, almost causing her to complain. “They act like dicks tonight?”

It was hard to escape dicks, they seemed to be everywhere. But no one acted like a bully or dick to her tonight. At least not to her face. Whether they gossiped or talked about her behind her back, she didn’t notice and didn’t care. She no longer cared what any of them thought about her. She reminded herself several times tonight that their opinions didn’t matter.

“No. At first, they didn’t remember me since I was easy to forget, apparently.”

“Ain’t easy to forget now,” he mumbled.

“I was also an easy target. It was either one extreme or the other, depending how the wind blew.”

“Why were you invisible?”

“I was gawky and really, really thin. I was also a nerd who loved her books, especially fiction because it was so much better than reality. Also, back then I wore really thick glasses and metal braces. I was in the honor and AP classes and I did really well in school without a lot of effort.” She was called all kinds of awful names. Metal mouth, brace face and worse. They called her glasses coke-bottle bottoms, jam jars, and whatever original insults they could come up with.

“Jealous,” he muttered.

“Maybe about academics but not about the rest.” No one wanted to look like her. No one wanted to be her no matter how smart she was. Most of the girls preferred to be popular and pretty, instead. “When seventh grade started, every time a teacher would ask a question, I would raise my hand because I knew the answer. Eventually my classmates would call me names behind my back and throw things at me every time I volunteered to answer. Someone even put gum in my hair one day in class and no one told me so I had it stuck in my hair the rest of the day and my mother had to cut it out when I got home.”

Her mother had actually cried over that incident. Shay lied and told her it must have been an accident. When it clearly wasn’t.

“A few times my locker was filled with shaving cream or stuffed with dirty diapers. Or even trash. One day I even found some bloody tampons in the pockets of my jacket. I got nasty notes left inside my books. My textbooks were actually stolen one year, too. By ninth grade, I stopped raising my hand. I stopped answering questions unless a teacher asked me one directly. So, I guess I did prefer being invisible. But it still hurt. What child doesn’t want to be accepted? I was never mean to anyone and at the time didn’t understand why I was being treated that way.”

After getting her braces she’d also began to hide her smile or when she laughed because whenever she did, it spurred the taunts. Other students had braces but, for some reason, they didn’t get picked on.

The worst part was she had always been nice to everyone. She treated everyone how she wanted to be treated, no one else did the same in return.

“Your parents didn’t do shit about any of that?”

“In the beginning, when I told them about it, they went to the school several times. My father actually threatened the principal once. He ended up charged for that.”

“But none of that did shit to stop it.”

“No. My parents considered changing my school but that wasn’t an option because they couldn’t afford to move or send me anywhere else. But I know it upset them. It even sent my dad into a rage several times and I didn’t want him to be arrested again, so I stopped telling them what was going on and pretended everything had gotten better when it hadn’t.”

“Damn,” he whispered. “That’s fucked up.”

“I felt guilty telling them and also guilty not telling them.” She had been torn. She ended up hiding her tears by locking herself in her room after school and burying her nose in a book.

“If that was my baby girl bein’ treated like that, I’d go into that school and teach those motherfuckin’ bullies a lesson. I’d drag those little bastards out by their hair, tie them to the back of my sled and drag them down the fuckin’ road.”

“And you would’ve ended up in jail. Or worse.”

“Woulda been worth it.”

She sighed. Violence wasn’t a solution. It usually only made things worse. “So anyway… That little girl, the one who hid back then,” she pressed a hand to her chest, “still hides deep inside.”

“You don’t let her out.”

She pursed her lips and stared out into the dark. “She’s always trying to step forward.”

“Tell her to get fuckin’ lost.”

“It’s not that easy.” She turned to stare at him. “You’re not shy at all, are you?”

He grinned and his fingers paused on her bare skin. “That even a question?”

“No, it was more of a rhetorical question since it’s obvious you’re not and you’re not afraid to say what you’re thinking. Anyway, I was hoping tonight I’d be able to let that little girl go and, like you said, tell her to get fucking lost.”

“Did she?”

“Honestly, I’d be happy if she just came to visit less.”

His fingers began to knead her calf muscles again.

“You know what’s funny?”

He grunted.

“I eavesdropped a lot on the gossip tonight and you know what I found?”

“Tell me,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth.

When he said it like that, she was tempted to spill every secret she ever had.

“The saying is true… All that glitters isn’t gold. The golden life I figured everyone lived seemed tarnished in some way or another. For example, the classmate voted most likely to succeed wasn’t there tonight. Do you know why?”

He grunted out a, “Why?”

“Because he’s doing time in prison for embezzlement.”

His head dropped back and he barked out a loud laugh.

“And you were right. A lot of them are now prisoners of their own circumstances. The popular crowd is no longer popular. Some of the jocks who were considered ‘royalty’ in high school are now overweight and never became a sport star like they arrogantly thought they would. Most ended up being car salesmen or insurance agents. Not that there’s anything wrong with those career paths, but they ended up just like the rest of us ‘common folk.’ I guess their crowns slipped a little.”

“Or their crowns got knocked the fuck off completely.” His fingers trailed along her shin. “Would you do it again?”

She pursed her lips and, after a few seconds, shook her head. “No. Tonight I realized something. I wasted too much energy on people who don’t matter.”

“Yeah, sweetheart, you did. Those assholes don’t deserve a second of your attention since they never gave you a second of theirs. You picked up their fallen crown, dusted it off and placed it on your own fuckin’ head, like the slayer you are.”

She usually hated it when men she didn’t know called her “pet” names like honey and sweetheart. But for some reason, the way he said it seemed natural. Like no deep meaning existed behind it and felt more like a compliment than an endearment.

He wasn’t being a smartass by calling her that, either. Sometimes those types of names could be used as a compliment or an insult.

“But you did what you came to do. Even if it wasn’t to show them, you showed yourself you could rise above those motherfuckers.” He gently moved her feet out of his lap, stood and bowed his head to her. “All hail the fuckin’ queen.”

He held out his hand and she stared at it for a second. When she placed her much smaller one in his, he helped her from the chair. “Gonna go celebrate. Know a place where those motherfuckers probably won’t be.”

“Where?”

“Know a little joint where a band’s playin’ tonight. Might be able to catch their last set.”

She chewed on her bottom lip and took a quick glance at the closed door to her room. Behind it was a comfortable bed and the comfy, worn T-shirt she slept in. “It’s late.”

“Sweetheart, night’s just beginnin’. This time you’ll be in much better company.”

In front of her was a man who was much more suave than he looked. Though, he didn’t look bad, either. He actually looked really freaking good.

He might curse liberally and smoke pot but he seemed to be kind, too. Hopefully, that wasn’t all an act.

Holy smokes, was she actually considering it? “Where are we going?”

“Surprise.”

“Somewhere you can bury my body?” she teased.

He cocked one eyebrow. “You afraid of that?”

“I don’t know. Should I be?”

“If I was gonna kill you, woulda done it this mornin’ for gettin’ me outta bed so early.”

She laughed. “Fair enough.”

He tucked his thumb under her chin and lifted her face. “Don’t hide it from me.”

She hadn’t realized she had. “I… didn’t all night. But old habits are hard to break.”

“Tell me about it,” he grumbled. “Go change. Jeans and closed-toed shoes. And get out of that top since it might get splattered by bugs and bettin’ you can’t just throw that in the wash. Where we’re goin’ ain’t nothin’ fancy and no reason to impress. Everything you’re wearin’ ain’t practical, either, since we’re gonna take my sled.”

“You used that term before but it’s the middle of the summer and I doubt you mean a sled that children ride down a snowy hill.”

“Fuck no, sweetheart, this is a man’s ride.”

She remembered what was advertised on his T-shirt earlier. “It’s a Harley, isn’t it?”

Her heart began to race in excitement. She hadn’t been on a motorcycle since before her father disappeared. She always loved when he’d ask if she wanted to go along on a ride. She always jumped at the chance to spend some one-on-one time with her father.

“Yeah. Got a sweet Sportster that’ll feel like a monster between your thighs. Got no back rest or anythin’. Means you gotta hold on tight so when I twist the throttle you don’t end up on your ass eatin’ my dust.”

She could easily take her Lexus instead. “I can follow you there.” Then she’d have a way to escape if she needed to.

“Nope. Place’ll be hoppin’ tonight. Where we’re goin’ you won’t find a spot to park for blocks. Got a VIP spot by the back door. You’re ridin’ with me.”

You’re ridin’ with me. Not a question but a fact.

“Do you at least have a helmet I can borrow?”

He snorted.

“I guess that’s a no.”

“Tie up your hair in somethin’ you can let down easily after we get there.”

There.Wherever there was.

Was she actually going to go? Be spontaneous for once in her life? Someone who planned everything down to the most minute detail was simply going to hop on the back of a motorcycle with a man she only met this morning and let him take her somewhere unknown?

She glanced over his shoulder. “What about watching the office?”

“Got it covered.”

“So, you’re not currently working?”

“No.”

“Were you out here waiting for me?”

“Just havin’ a smoke.”

“Do you sit out here often to have a smoke?”

“Enough jawin’. We gotta go if we wanna catch the band before they split.”

“What kind of music do they play?”

“The kind you use your ears to listen to. It matter?”

No, she guessed it really didn’t. There wasn’t much music she didn’t like and, truthfully, she wasn’t going along to listen to a band, she was going to spend more time with a man named Ozzy.

“Go. Pick you up out here in a few.”

He spun on his boot heel and strode into the office.

As the door shut behind him, she noticed something she couldn’t see before.

The back of his vest.

In the few seconds it took him to disappear inside, she had a chance to read the top and bottom curved patches.

One said Blood Fury. The other Pennsylvania.

And the large center patch consisted of a skull and crossbones. She didn’t have enough time, or light, to see the detail.

But still… it looked eerily familiar.

She’d seen it before. In the past.

But after her dad disappeared, she never saw it again.