Tank, page 13
This is all for nothing. Doesn’t he see that? I can’t be fixed, glued or taped back together, because I’ve never been whole. I’m not worth mending. The sooner he comes to understand this, the better.
I can’t hear anymore. I move away from the door and stand in front of the sink, resting my arms on the porcelain basin. I stare long and hard at my reflection, and then I carefully open the cabinet again, and take out the little cardboard boxes of pills. I take one of each and put them in my bra, because if I pop an oxy now I’ll be falling off the damn bike the whole way home.
I place the boxes back in the cabinet and quietly close the door. Tank’s voice rises again. “I don’t care, just as long as she’s alive to still be a fuckin’ pain in my arse.”
My chest warms, and I glance down at the pills in my bra and shake my head. It doesn’t matter how he feels about me. I’m a lost cause. I steal pain medication from old ladies with back problems. I lie and I cheat and steal to get what I want. I don’t deserve someone like Tank; I don’t even deserve Kick. I deserve someone as evil and as fucked up as my father, because I’m exactly what he made me: a thieving, drug-addicted whore.
“You need to trust that she knows what’s right for her, Jonah.”
“I need to save her from herself.”
“No, you need to stand by her while she saves herself. Not all women are strong enough. I wasn’t, and I regret every day that I hadn’t taken a stand against your father. I regret every day that it had to be you. Let her save herself, and she’ll save you in return.”
I can’t listen to any more of this. I can’t have Adeline give him hope for a future with me because there is none. I have no future, I have no prospects, and I certainly have no intention of falling in love with a man I don’t deserve. I yank open the door and join them at the table. Adeline releases her son’s hand and straightens.
“Well, let’s eat. Ivy, if there’s too much on your plate, don’t eat it all. We don’t want you exploding on us.”
Tank lets out a groan and picks up his fork, stabbing at a potato.
“Jonah. Let’s not be a tyrant and say grace, shall we?”
He huffs and takes hold of his mother’s hand. Adeline rests her well-manicured hand on top of mine. The shell pink polish stands out in stark relief against my worn chipped nails. She gives me a gentle smile and bows her head as she says grace, adding on to the end, “Grant Jonah the gift of patience, and God, we ask that you grant Ivy the strength to put up with him. God knows he can be an ogre.”
I try to stifle a laugh, but it comes out anyway. Adeline laughs too, and even as I roll my gaze upward to meet Tank’s, I find him fighting that gorgeous grin that teases at the corner of his lips. I realise that I want that smile badly, but he just shakes his head and starts devouring his meal.
The food is delicious and, despite there being far too much, I find myself eating all of it. When we’re done, Tank leans back in his chair and pats his distended belly. It’s hard to believe there’s even a stomach under that wall of abs he’s so fond of showing off. “Thanks, Ma. It was delicious, as always.”
“You’re welcome, Puddin’.” She pats his hand and stands. “You know what? Why don’t you go sit out on the deck? Ivy can help me clear these things away.”
“It’s okay. I got it—”
“You know, Son, subtlety never really was your strong suit. Go, shoo. I want to have a girl-to-girl chat with Ivy.”
Oh no. No, no, no, no.
I send Tank a pleading glance and he just chuckles and strolls out onto the deck that separates the dining room from the yard.
“Thanks for lunch. It really was delicious.”
“You’re very welcome. I’m glad you enjoyed it.” She carries dishes of food into the kitchen and I follow her with the stack of plates I collected. “I’m sorry about Jonah’s behaviour. He really is a beast sometimes, but he means well.”
“Yeah. I’m familiar with how much of a beast he can be.”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” She gives me a conspiratorial smile and my eyes grow wide.
“Oh, I didn’t mean—”
“Relax, Ivy, I’m just messing with you. Besides, I was a young woman once. I remember what being taken by a big, strapping man felt like.”
Oh God. I can actually feel the heat clawing at my cheeks.
“I might be old, sweetheart, but I’m not dead. In the first few years with Jonah’s father, all we did was get naked. It was glorious, and then Jonah came along, and my heart had swollen past the point I ever thought I could love, but Wayne’s hadn’t. He saw my baby boy as an intrusion. He never wanted children; his father was a bastard and had raised him with a brutal hand, and Wayne thought that we should do the same with Jonah. He also thought I should be dealt with in the same manner. I happily took that punishment to keep it from Jonah, and then the beatings got worse. The drinking and gambling got worse, and so did his temper.”
“I’m sorry,” I say.
Adeline gives me a small smile and nods towards Tank, who’s now walking around the backyard. “He’s a good man, my Jonah, but he’s as wilful and stubborn as his father was. Don’t let him push you around.”
I laugh. “Well, I don’t think there’s much that can be done about it right now. He’s sort of in charge of pushing me around.”
“That’s what he’d have you believe, but men are rarely ever in charge—not really. They just like to think they are.” She begins rinsing the dishes in the sink, and I stack them in the dishwasher when she passes them to me. “He cares a great deal for you, Ivy. You’re the only woman he’s ever brought to meet me, so that must mean you’re something special.”
“Is this the part where you tell me if I break his heart you’ll hunt me down like a dog?”
Adeline laughs, but it doesn’t sound mirthful. “No, this is the part where I tell you if you hurt him, you get to carry that with you for the rest of your days. He might not express himself in the best way possible, but he will find ways to treat you like a queen. The question is: are you up to task?”
I don’t have to think long about my reply. “No, I don’t think I am.”
She raises her eyebrows and then looks out the window at her son as he stoops over to pull weeds from the garden. “I think you grossly underestimate yourself. Girls like us, survivors, we have a backbone stronger than a hundred men like Jonah. You just need the right reasons to find it.”
I knew she meant what she said, I knew she believed that with her whole heart, but she was wrong about me. I wasn’t strong. I was weak, and I’d be her son’s downfall. I’d be his ruin. I knew it like I knew the blood in my veins was corrupt.
“I never thought I’d see the day that my son would be in love,” Adeline says, taking my hand. “I can tell it’s not the same for you though.”
“No, it’s not.” I say, and even as the words leave my mouth there’s a gnawing in the pit of my stomach, as if butterflies have sprouted from my insides and grown teeth. They sink their incisors of doubt into me, and plant little seeds of hope. Images of a normal life, of lazy rainy Sunday mornings spent entangled in one another, club barbeques, holidays, and long rides on the back of his V-Rod Muscle.
And even longer rides bent over the back of that glorious bike.
I push the thoughts away, smother the insects with a tsunami tide of fear. Long rides that would get us both killed. I can’t have that dream. I can never have that dream, not with Tank, or anyone else.
“Could it be?” she asks, hopefully. “Someday?”
“He’s not hard to love, Adeline. You raised a great man, but Tank’s worthy of more—”
“No, he’s worthy of the woman he loves. If that’s you, then my only wish is that one day, you can reciprocate his feelings.”
“Why would you want someone like me for your son? I’m a mess; I’m a total pain in the arse and …” I stop, unsure I want her to know the horrible truth about me. “I’m a drug addict.”
She leans over and pats my arm. “I know.”
I frown in confusion. Oh God, he told her? And is she fucking bat-shit crazy? I tell her I’m a drug addict and she’s practically marrying the two of us off? What kind of ridiculous logic is that?
“Don’t get me wrong—the last thing I want for Jonah is to be caught up in more substance abuse. He had enough of that with his father, but he believes in you, Ivy. And I trust my son to make his own decisions. He just wants to save you from yourself.”
“What if I don’t want to be saved?” I say, and it’s a question for me as much as it is for her.
“I’m afraid you don’t have much choice in the matter, my dear. That boy is one of the most stubborn people I know. He doesn’t just get what he wants, he takes every measure to ensure that he does, and right now what he wants is you.”
“I use to forget.” The words rush out before I can stop them, and Adeline runs a hand over my cheek.
“And I drink more than my doctor advises for a woman my age, but sometimes you need to remember, if for nothing other than to remind yourself how strong you are.” Tears spill down my cheeks and I swipe them away with the back of my hands. “Now, let’s leave all this and go sit out on the deck in that glorious sunshine. We have a lot to be thankful for today.”
She was right. I knew she was right, but the dark part of me that always reared its ugly head worried how long it would be before he found me again, and as I follow her out on to the deck and Tank turns to smile at us, I can’t help but suppress a shiver. I’d been out of the clubhouse for a handful of days, and I know as sure as I know the blood in my veins is red that he’ll find me.
I should get as far away from Tank as I can before that happens, but the thought of leaving now strikes fear into my heart for a different reason. I think I might actually miss the bastard. I think I might actually want him around, and that pisses me off, because God knows he can be an overgrown man-child.
After coffee and some delicious home-baked cookies, we thank Adeline and she walks us out to the bike. She hands Tank a few small plastic containers filled with biscuits and leftovers that he secures in the saddlebags. Adeline hugs me extra tight when she says goodbye, and I wrap my arms around her, awkwardly at first, breathing in violets and the soft scent of freshly laundered clothes. It so odd hugging a woman this way, a woman who isn’t my mother but who has embraced me with the same motherly affection that my own might have. “You come back and see me soon.”
“I will,” I promise. And I’d like to, I really would, but visiting Adeline again would likely only put her in danger.
She leans in and whispers in my ear, “And you throw out those pills stuffed inside your bra before my son finds them, or he’ll make you pay dearly for it.”
My eyes widen, my gaze searching her face as she draws away. Tank studies the two of us and frowns. He kisses Adeline goodbye and climbs onto the bike, revving it several times as I nod to her and then slide on behind him.
The entire ride back to the cabin, I think about all the things Adeline said to me. The pills in my bra feel like a brand against my skin. I want to get rid of them, but I can’t. I need them. I want them so bad, but I can’t take them, not now, and not without falling off the bike.
When we pull into Tank’s garage I slide off the bike but he grabs my hand and pulls me towards him. “Thank you.”
“For what?” I ask.
“For meeting my mum, and for not stabbing me with your dinner fork, ’cause I know you were thinking about it.”
I laugh. “Oh, I was thinking of stabbing you with more than just my fork. I considered the carving knife and bludgeoning you to death with the roast too.”
His mouth tips up in a smile. “I think I’d like to see that.”
“What, me murdering you with a leg of lamb?”
“You trying to kill me with anything. Postal Ivy gets me hard as fuckin’ stone.” He bends and kisses my hand. There’s a hint of tongue and the gesture is as equally sweet as it is erotic. I pull my hand free from his grasp and ignore the quiet sigh that escapes his mouth. It’s not that it wasn’t nice, it’s just … that isn’t what we do, and to be honest, I don’t even know what that looks like—him and me, together. Me being an old lady. The idea makes me nervous. What if I fuck this up too? What if I really do become his ruin?
We walk into the house and Tank disables the alarm. I notice he doesn’t set it again, and my heart gives a stupid-arsed girly little flutter because it’s such a tiny, insignificant thing, but to me it’s a gargantuan gesture of faith. My gaze meets his, but he says nothing and the moment is lost as Butch comes barrelling in from Tank’s bedroom, almost knocking me off my feet and licking at my hands and face.
“Butch, down,” Tank commands, and the dog ignores him in favour of rutting up against my leg. “Stupid fuckin’ mutt.”
I pat his giant skull and sook him up some more, just the way Tank hates. “On your mat!” Tank bellows, and the dog whines and wanders over to the mat by the door.
“You’re so mean.”
“You baby him. He’s already a big enough sook as it is.” He opens the fridge and peers inside. “I’m gonna have to buy one of those fighting pit bulls to show him how a real guard dog behaves.”
“You’re so full of it,” I say, leaning against the bench. “I see right through you, you know. I’m not buying any of it.”
“Eat me,” Tank says, slamming the fridge door closed. I’m guessing he was looking for a beer, and the fact that I’m here means he can’t have one. He stalks over to the lounge and flops down on it, kicking his feet up on the coffee table and turning on a game.
I sigh and head to the bathroom. For a long time I stare at myself in the mirror, thinking about all of the things his mother said to me, and then I remove the tablets I stole from my bra. It would be so easy to just toss them back and let them take me away, but that’s the point, isn’t it? That life is hard, and it’s fucked, and unfair. But it’s the same for everyone. We all experience different things, we’re all faced with different obstacles—it’s the way we confront our fears that matter. It’s the decisions I make from here that matter.
With a final glance, I close my fist around the pills, and walk down the hall into the lounge room. I take a deep breath and then I stand in front of him.
“Unless you plan to remove your pants and let me stare at that beautiful cunt of yours, I suggest you move, darlin’,” Tank says. I hesitate and hold out my hand to him, the three tiny pills—somewhat deteriorated and a little bit sweaty—on show in the centre of my palm. “What the fuck is that?”
I swallow hard. “I stole them … from your mother’s house.”
“Come the fuck again?” He sits up, ramrod straight.
“I thought I needed them … to forget.”
“Jesus Christ, Ivy,” Tank mutters. He looks away, shakes his head in disbelief. “And why the fuck are you showing me now?”
“Because I’m done.”
He shoots up from the couch, towering over me as he grabs my shoulder with his vice grip. “What do you mean you’re fuckin’ done? I haven’t wasted all this time trying to straighten your bitch arse out just to have you—”
“Tank!” I say, so frustrated I could punch him in the face. He’s so fucking bull-headed. “Will you shut up? Please?”
“Don’t you tell me to shut up, bitch. I put myself on the fuckin’ line for you with my Prez, and if you think I’m going to let—”
I don’t punch him in the face, but I do the next best thing. I swing my arm back and hurl the pills at him. “God, you’re such an arsehole. Don’t you think that if I wanted to take them I would have in the bathroom just now?”
“Why the fuck didn’t you? Huh?”
“Because, you jackarse, I didn’t want to. I took the pills from your mother, and she was the first person besides you who’s ever been nice to me. I can’t take them. I don’t want to take them.” Tank arches a brow and I clarify, “I want to take them. Right now I’m considering getting down on my hands and knees and tearing your lounge room apart until I find them, but I can’t take them because it means stealing from her and disappointing you. And for some unexplained reason, I don’t want that.”
“What are you saying?” Tank glares down at me. His eyes are hard and unyielding, and I can’t say I blame him after all the times I’ve put him through shit like this.
“I’m saying you don’t have to fight for me any longer, because I’m … I’m fighting for myself.”
“Well good. ’Bout fuckin’ time,” he says, and the momentary glimpse of happiness and pride I saw in his face disappears as quickly as it came. Tank looks away and I press a hand to the centre of his solid chest. He glances down at me. Our eyes meet, and I feel his heart beneath my palm, steady and strong, so much like the man who owns it.
He’s everything I need, and nothing I want. He’s good for me, but I’m not good for him. I should cut my losses.
I should do a lot of things that I don’t.
I slide my hand up his chest, over the coarse hair of his beard, and I tilt his chin down to me as I stand on tippy-toes and lean in. Tank’s eyes search mine. His lips are so close, and I can taste the coffee on his breath. I inch forward until our lips are touching, but too quickly he pulls back.
“You sure you want this? ’Cause I gotta tell ya, babe, I wanna fuck you so bad my balls are blue. You got no idea how much I want to touch you, but I don’t want a pity fuck, and I don’t want you to fuck me out of obligation.”
I sigh and shove him hard in the chest. It completely catches him off-guard and he loses his balance, falling back onto the couch with a grunt. I climb onto his lap and wrap my arms around his thick shoulders. “I’m lonely. I’m tired of making bad decisions, and this may be just another one, but it doesn’t feel like it. I don’t have anything to give you but me, Jonah, so if that’s not enough—”
“Did that coke kill your brain cells, babe?” he asks, grinning from ear to ear. “It’s enough; trust me, it’s fuckin’ more than enough. All I’ve ever wanted was you.”
