“When is it enough?”
“Enough?” he laughed. “It’s never enough. I will never stop climbing.”
“What’s the point? When do you live? At some point you have to stop climbing and start building around you. You can never be happy until you learn to appreciate what you have already.”
“Everyone out there is climbing, Cherry, everyone.”
“Not everyone,” she shrugged.
“Right,” he laughed. “You aren’t?”
“No. I was happy to just come back here and stay in GiGi’s old trailer. Get a simple, easy part time job that paid the bills. I had everything I needed and I was happy until you walked in the door.”
“Right,” he snorted. “Of course you were. Why wouldn’t you be? Easy part time job, huh? Keeping Alonso’s books?”
“Yeah.”
“Numbers and shit, that all comes easy to you?”
“Yeah.”
He nodded and looked out at the skyline.
“If you stop climbing,” she said softly, “you can start nurturing what you have. Build around you, build your life. At some point you will look back and realize you never lived. All you did was keep climbing. To what end?”
He said nothing, just stared out at the horizon, considering.
After several more minutes, he stood up and helped her up and rode her back to the clubhouse. “Go in. Head back to my room till Val gets back. Stavo is inside, he’ll make sure no one messes with you. Go.”
She went in, looking back at him worriedly as she slipped in the door.
He took off as soon as she was inside.
He drove all the way back to Alonso’s and went in, alone.
“I have till tomorrow!” Alonso said quickly. “I’m getting it!”
“Shut up. The girl, the Cherry.”
“Amelia?”
“Where’s her place?”
“I… uhh… it’s down in the Green Lanes trailer park, hold on. I will get the address,” he said warily, going back to the office. He brought out her application. “Number 3393.”
Luka nodded and looked Alonso over. “What is she to you?”
“No one, really, I knew her grandmother. I knew she had a shit time coming up. That’s it. Is… is she ok?”
“Not your concern until you pay me back. You have less than 24 hours, I’d be getting on that shit if I were you.”
Luka left and rode down to the trailer park and stopped outside of 3393. It was old and run down, but the outside was clean and there were plants in the homemade railing boxes on the porch. There was a welcome mat and he lifted it, looking for a key. There wasn’t one. He tried the door and it opened, to his surprise. He ducked in and turned on the light, then looked around. It was a clean little place. There were more plants inside. The furniture looked antique, but in good shape. The books on the shelves looked well read and loved. Something she had read a dozen times each. There were pictures of family, pictures of her. There were other things that made him feel a little pang of guilt. An obviously hand made quilt on her bed, well preserved and taken care of. A homemade doll on a shelf, one of those teddy bears made from an old man’s shirt. Memories in the form of simple souvenirs and nicknacks. A row of seashells on the windowsill. A few old toys on a bookshelf. Pretty and unusual rocks. Nothing big or fancy, just some little snippet that would evoke a good memory.
He turned another circle and felt another pang of sadness and guilt. She hadn’t been lying about this either. She was happy. Her simple little life with her tiny little memories all held together by the home she had loved best. She was content with it and he could even feel that in the home. It was a place of quiet happiness. So simple and unassuming. That was all she needed.
He started to leave, then paused. He opened her closet and found a bag, then packed her a couple changes of clothes before heading back to the club.
She wasn’t in his room when he got there, but Val immediately pointed down the hall. He found her in the laundry room, putting his clothes in the dryer.
“I told you to wait in my room.”
She spun to him, alarmed. “I… thought you would be gone longer. Your clothes… they needed washed and I wasn’t busy.”
“Come on,” he said, jerking his head back down the hall.
She followed him to his room and looked up at him fearfully as he shut the door. He tossed the bag at her feet.
“You… went to my home?” she asked, confused, as she picked up the bag and opened it.
“I knew you wouldn’t like what Val picked for you,” he shrugged. “Have a seat, Cherry,” he told her, motioning to the bed as he pulled off his vest and chest piece.
“Umm, thanks?” she mumbled, still confused as she sat on the bed.
He moved over to her and threw himself on the bed, leaning on his elbow as he pulled her to lay down next to him. “What would you think about keeping the books here?” he asked her, sliding a curl off of her face.
“I thought I was going to get to go home tomorrow?!?”
“We both know he won’t have the money.”
“But that’s not my fault! You can’t just…”
“Hush. Table that for now. Answer me. What would you think of doing the books here?”
“Like… as a job? You would pay me to come and…”
“No, Cherry. No. Like, you’d be my old lady and work for the club.”
“I don’t understand? I… if you need me to look at your books, I will. I will do whatever you need.”
“No big,” he shrugged, “not urgent, but it would free up Alan to do other shit. He was never really supposed to keep doing it, but no one ever stepped up. He’s doing ok, but I would rather someone with a better head for numbers was doing it.”
“Does this mean you are never letting me go?” she asked, her eyes filling with tears.
He looked away irritably. “Like I said. You’d be my old lady for all intents and purposes.”
“What does that mean?”
“Wife. Old lady. Whatever.”
“Wife? To you? You can’t just make me be a wife!”
“Hush. Table that shit for later. Look at me. Keep your mouth shut, you hear me? Anyone asks, you don’t know shit. You got it?”
She nodded, trying to wipe away horrified tears.
“Change your clothes, that dress looks ridiculous.”
She pulled clothes out of her bag. Old jeans and a faded old t-shirt or a faded old tank top. “Did… you get these out of the dresser?” she asked, confused.
“Yeah?”
“Oh.”
“That an issue?”
“No, they probably still fit. All of my clothes are in the closet. These are from before I moved. GiGi kept a drawer with all of my old clothes.”
She pulled on the old t-shirt and it was tight, so threadbare it was see through in some places. The jeans were snug, but not too tight to wear.
“You really haven’t grown since you were 13?” he asked, amused.