Fuck. That’s why we don’t let the women see the violence. They are the lifeblood of our organization. They keep us levelheaded and grounded. Force us to focus on the bigger picture—jobs are temporary, it's family that’s important. But all of that dies as soon as they’re afraid of us. Homes should be safe.
“I would never hurt you.” I almost don’t recognize the rawness in my voice, the truth.
“Not physically, no.” She calls Kingston back up onto her lap and buries her face in his fur. “But you’re going to destroy me. Wreck everything I worked so hard to build in myself. You’ll shred every strand of self-confidence I’ve weaved into my psyche.”
I’m not sure if this is one of those moments where I should ask a follow up question or wait until she’s ready to talk about it. So, we drive a few more miles before she speaks again.
“You’ll get tired of me, just like everyone else does.”
“What?”
“All the little things you think are cute and novel about me will become exhausting. Everyone says so. Six half-drunk glasses around the living room, endless streams of failed projects, chaos that only I understand…you won’t want that anymore.”
A searing hot rage builds in my stomach and starts to form words in my throat. I don’t know if I can keep training my voice to keep it even. “Fucking bullshit. Everything you said was bullshit.”
“Thank you for validating my feelings and confirming my hypothesis,” she grumbles and turns away from me to watch the trees race by the window.
“First of all, you don’t get to tell me what’s going to send me running for the hills. You don’t know because I sure as shit don’t. Second, I’m mad that you almost died, not because you left two glasses on the coffee table.”
She whips her head around. “Wait, I did it already?” Her voice breaks. “I was trying to be so good.” She buries her head in Kingston’s fur again.
“Yeah, it was a water you filled with ice and forgot about and an iced tea you mostly drank.”
“See! You noticed it. And this is what, like twenty-four hours in? While you were still in a sex-hazed stupor."
“I notice everything.”
“Except that your grandma owned a dog.”
“That’s not what we’re talking about,” I snap but smirk because she’s right. All my keen observation skills that have kept me alive still leave some pretty fucking huge blind spots. “Losing you forever and mild inconveniences are not the same thing. I’m not going to leave you over some clutter and random half-filled glasses. I’m more worried you won’t feel safe around me because I shot someone.”
She huffs and waves her hand around. “Oh, that’s what you are concerned about? I'm super desensitized to violence and my own sense of self-preservation. That barely registered. Now I’m fixated on my liquid consumption, and I’m kinda worried you're going to make me go to one of those water tracking apps because I can’t get fifty-two ounces in a day.”
“I think it's sixty-four ounces.” I sigh, because this is a useless waste of energy. She’s missing the most important part. “You think I’m going to leave because it’s been ingrained in you that you’re not enough. But fuck that. It’s the trash people who were in your life before you met us that’s wrong. You’re with the Four Families now. If we can love Donny for his massive fuckups, we’ll love you unconditionally too.”
I’m not sure I’m getting through to her. Time to call in some backup.
I call Izzy and her voice echoes through the car speakers. “What’s wrong?” She has an edge to her voice.
“Jenny thinks I’m going to leave her because she’s a chaos gremlin and I’m going to get tired of it.”
Izzy laughs, but tires screech against the road. For a second I think it’s my driving, but it’s coming from her end of the line. “No, Jenny’s awesome. None of us would ever forgive you if that’s why you two broke up. You should be more worried that she’ll dump you once she discovers your vast collection of eighties and nineties children’s fever dream movies, which are basically snuff films for kids.” Hmm, I guess a lot of characters did die in those movies, but they came back to life, right? Maybe?
The tires screech again and there's a gunshot in the background. “Hey, we’re kinda in the middle of a car chase right now, I’ll call you later.” And the phone goes dead.
“Do you feel better now?”
“Yeah.” She exhales. “Why are we listening to the Mama Mia soundtrack as we run for our lives?”
The music displays “Dancing Queen” and it’s the original London Cast. Hmm. I hadn’t been really focused on that. “Was that what you wanted to talk about fifteen minutes ago?”
“Yeah. But now I’m kinda invested, and I don’t want you to change it.”
My world is crumbling, my family is in danger, and I can't help but laugh with the woman next to me.
As we turn onto the dirt road for the cabin, I’m in a very different mood from when I first got into the car. I tell her about the cabin, that it has security, and we’ll be safe here. I don’t get any follow-up questions. Instead, she says it needs a porch gnome, because I don’t have a garden, and every home needs a tiny man in a hat.
Kingston hops out of the car, runs around and sniffs some plants, pees on them, and then runs to the door. I open the trunk of the car and pull out the black bag before letting them into the house. Kingston takes several zoomie laps around the cabin as I lock the door, flip on the surveillance system, and drop the bag on the floor.
