Blue Colla Make Ya Holla (14 page)

“Why?” I hiccup from crying so hard. My situation hits me. “Why did you get me out of the shower?”

He lays his head back against the headboard. “Old house, old hot water heater. After twenty minutes the shit runs not just cold but freezing. When the time passed and the water was still running I was afraid it was a repeat of last night.”

“Oh,” I simply reply.

“Tell me your name.”

I hesitate.

“I can’t help you if I don’t know what I’m up against.”

I breathe deeply. “My name is LoraLeigh Riffel.”

Heath

I have never
been so scared in my life as I was when she had her wrist laid out over my counter and bleeding. I don’t know what it is about this woman that has everything in me wanting to hold her, save her, and make everything okay. When Kenzy cleaned her up, I had her sleep in my bed for the night. My two bedroom house is a place to sleep. It is not cozy and my spare bedroom is not set up for guests. I put my ass on the couch and attempted to sleep while my mind raced with a million possibilities of who this woman is and what she has been through.

Now, after taking another year off my life with her overly long shower, she is safe, secure, and sobbing in my arms.

“That’s a start, LoraLeigh. It is a much more suiting name for you than Annie.”

She laughs a little in my arms. She is naked and wet but relaxed in a way that makes all of this feel almost natural, strangely enough.

“I was born to an addict. My mother died when I was fifteen. Her dealer took me to what was supposed to be an Uncle’s house. Only Uncle Julio was far from being any relation to me. I had no money, no family, no friends, and nowhere I could think of to go. I was scared and alone. I learned I was a payment for a debt owed to Julio. After a few years, Julio lost me to a fighter. Then they lost me in another fight, landing me with Pete for over a year now. For a while, Pete didn’t put me up as payment in the fights. Then I guess he had to and now I was left with you.”

There is a void in her voice that kills me inside. She needs to be at House of Hope where they have victim counselors trained to assist individuals like her. Knowing the underground world, I will have to make a show of accepting the payment to keep her out of danger. If anyone in the league thinks she will rat, she is as good as dead.

“I’m not going to use you. As of today, all debts are paid in full. You are free. Well, as free as you can be. We will go to The Basement in a little while. That is my trainer and friend’s gym. He’s gonna hook you up with a job. You’ll have to live here with me for a bit. Once you’re on your feet you can move on and leave as much of this behind you as you can.”

Tears fall on my already wet shirt from her face. “Why are you helping me?”

“Well, sweets, I like to think of myself as a good guy,” She laughs lightly. “My dad was a sorry son-of-a-bitch that my mom should’ve left but didn’t have the tools necessary. Seen a lot of woman broken by the hands and words of a man. I don’t wanna be like that when it comes down to it.”

“Thank you, Heath.”

“You think you can manage to cover up with that towel and climb off me. I’m sure Wendol is wondering where we are by now.”

Less than an hour later and we are walking into The Basement. Wendol is eyeing me suspiciously as he takes in the red puffy eyes of my companion.

“Hi Annie,” he greets.

“LoraLeigh. My name is LoraLeigh,” she responds quietly but confidently.

“Okay, LoraLeigh. We need to get some paperwork done for you. Tax forms and such. Have you ever had a job before?”

As he asks the questions and, as I watch her tense beside me, I realize, yet again, that we are in over our heads on this one. Going into Wendol’s office, he pulls out employee forms as she takes a seat in front of his desk.

“Heath,” she whispers looking up from the papers. The tax paper sits with only her name filled out.

“Address, you can use mine. One eighteen Applewood Drive.” She points to another line cutting me off.

Social security number.

“I don’t know my social security number.”

Of course she wouldn’t. Her mom was an addict that didn’t teach her daughter anything about life. She has never had to fill out insurance paperwork or had a job and needed to know her social. Her mom died, in essence, taking the number to the grave with her.

“Do you have your birth certificate?” It is a shot in the dark but with that we can apply for a new social security card to get the number. Her eyes glaze over in unshed tears as she fights to keep her emotions in check. She shakes her head no.

“It’s okay. We can file for a new one of those too. Do you know what city you were born in and your mother’s full name at the time of your birth?”

“Yes,” I do know all of that.

Wendol moves over to sit behind his desk and turns on his computer. “We can file online for a certified copy of your birth certificate. Heath will probably be at work so I will take you after we get that to get your social security card. From that we can also secure a state issued identification card or a license.” I shake my head no at Wendol so he understands she doesn’t know how to drive.

LoraLeigh looks up at me. Something pulls inside of me to hold her, but I resist the urge and simply squeeze shoulder.

“One thing at a time, sweets. We’re gonna get you on your feet.”

LoraLeigh

The kindness of
a stranger. I want to believe in him. I want so badly for Heath to be different. I want this chance at my own life. Wendol says I can work for him under the table until we get all my paperwork sorted. He laughed when I asked what under the table meant.

My mom never had a real job. She sold her body and lived off welfare. I don’t know about taxes and social security numbers. The last twenty four hours have been a complete whirlwind. I don’t know if I am coming or going.

Heath turned me down. He could have had sex with me, but didn’t. Either he is gay or he is genuinely trying to help me. Back at his house, I go through the meager contents of my pillowcase. The small spiral bound, three by five, notepad that is my current journal sits in front of me. I haven’t written in it in since I left Pete’s. I run my fingers over the tattered edges. I don’t open it. I have never opened any of them when I finish. I simply throw them away and find the next one to write in. Over the years it hasn’t always been easy to keep track. Sometimes I couldn’t write, I could only give myself a hash mark to tally the days. I want to write in it. I turn the page to start.

Something inside me stops. Is that hope I am allowing myself to feel? I really have allowed myself to envision working for Wendol. I begin my letter to myself only today it all feels different.

Dear Diary,

In moments of desperation…in moments of survival we need something to believe in. Today is day one that I allow myself the freedom to believe.

Today is day one I allow myself to hope. Today is day one I allow myself to think about the possibility of tomorrow. Today is day one of my future.

Today is my birthday. Today is the first day I allow myself to live and be free.

Daily reminder-

I have survived another day. I have hope. I am free. I am simply finding me.

Signed,

LoraLeigh Riffel

Heath

‡

Four Months Later

T
he air mattress
in my spare room isn’t so bad to sleep on. It is far better than my couch. Truth be told, I end up in my own bed most nights anyway. She has night terrors. Once I climb in behind her and hold her she sleeps through the night without another issue.

LoraLeigh is working for Wendol. She has her birth certificate, social security card, state identification card, and she is learning to drive. Kenzy took her shopping so she has all the essentials. They had a spa day, as Kenzy calls it; LoraLeigh came home with her hair cut and colored. She has this natural beauty about her, but add those highlights and she came in the door looking drop dead gorgeous.

She wants to be independent from me, from Wendol, from her old life. We slip her extra money with her paycheck as if it is part of her job – not because we feel sorry for her. Truth be told I don’t pity her.

I am in awe of her.

The strength she has to keep pushing through, even when the shadows go bump in the night. I don’t know anyone who could go through everything she has been through and still work to be free of it all.

Fighting for the center has always been nice. It has always fed a part inside of me that longs to be part of the greater good. Helping her, watching her grow into her own, feeds part of my soul. I can’t explain the connection I have to her. It is deeper than anything I have had with any other human being in my entire life.

Making the drive home from a long day at work, I continue to think of the amazing woman sharing my house. Having her here, I actually enjoy coming home. Walking in, I take a quick shower to wash off the grime of my job before grabbing my bag and heading to The Basement.

She is in Wendol’s office with him when I walk in for my training. She looks up from her paperwork when I walk in and smiles. Everything around me falls into a place at that smile. I run my hand over my chest as I realize I have these feelings for LoraLeigh beyond friendship.

She is so much more.

Wendol hops up and we get started on my training. Finishing up, LoraLeigh comes out to wait for me to take her home. Walking out, I lace my hand in hers. When she doesn’t resist, I squeeze her hand, needing this connection to her more than I can put into words.

“Heath, got a fight coming up,” Wendol says as a last thought when we reach the door.

LoraLeigh tenses beside me. We take the ride home in silence. Inside, I can feel her pulling away. All this time, building this solid friendship and something more, and one word, one thing brings it crashing down.

When she goes to walk into my room, I reach out and grab her wrist. My calloused fingers run across the scars from the first night she was here. She stops midstride and looks up at me. I continue rubbing the scars as I pull her to me. With her arm between our two bodies, I keep my thumb running over her wrist and my other around her waist to hold her to me.

“Don’t shut me out. Talk to me, sweets.” Tears fill her eyes.

“Am I your payment for your fight?”

“Fuck no. I have cash for my buy in. You’re free, LoraLeigh. The fights aren’t part of your life anymore.”

“Why do you have to do it? What if you lose?” She sobs, “what if you don’t come back to me?”

I rest her hand on my chest as I tip her chin up to look at me. I place my lips against hers. I don’t press the kiss to move more. Just a simple my lips to hers. A connection. A solid foundation on which I wish to continue build something more. I rest my forehead on hers as I move my hand back to the scars.

“I won’t lose. I’ll always come back to you as long as you’ll have me. Don’t worry over the fights. I only do them when the center needs something big or it’s one I have to do to stay in The Lottery.”

“Why do you do it, Heath?”

“Some people have scars on the outside.” I bring her wrist to my mouth and hold my lips against her marks as I kiss them. “Some people have scars burned into their souls.”

“Some people have both,” she whispers to me.

“I fight to lessen my scars. I make decent money on the rig, but
House of Hope
needs larger funds than what I can bring in on the oil rig. Shayla was like my sister too. Knowing how many women suffer at the hands of fucked up men, I can’t sit back and do nothing. Wendol and I do this in memory of his sister. We do it for the women like my mom. We do it for women who need a helping hand. I fight to leave a door open, somewhere, for any woman who may feel trapped. When that woman feels death is her only escape, I want her to know there is a place she can go.”

“Hope,” she whispers at me.

She licks her lips. Her shaking hands come up around my neck. She pulls me to her and she kisses me softly, timidly. When her lips part, I slide my tongue over them. She pulls tighter, opens more, and her tongue comes out to meet mine. We kiss slowly and delicately. All of the doubts I had about my feelings wash away with every swipe of her tongue against mine. I have never felt for anyone what I feel for her.

LoraLeigh

One step closer.
Kissing him is one step closer to having something real in my life. Every day that passes by, the more I learn to trust in Heath. He has held my hand and my heart every step of the way as I learn to live my life – really live my life.

He pulls away kissing my nose gently before cupping my chin to make me look at him. His eyes are searching mine to make sure I am okay with all of this. Heath is always making sure I am okay. He is a man of honor. He is a man of value. He is the man they write books about.

He doesn’t fight for the money. I am trying to wrap my head around all of this. Working so closely with Wendol, he has talked about
House of Hope
and his sister.