Steel & Ice (2 page)

I was thirteen when I started dabbling in
drugs and sex. By sixteen, I was rarely coming home, and I’d
learned lessons that hardened me, allowed me to speak without
emotion, and brush shit off as if nothing bothered me. I perfected
my impassive face. Underneath, I was none of those things. Aaron
and Chris, my two BFFs, were the only ones who saw the real me. The
only ones who knew the fire that lay underneath my ice. I shared a
few things with Larry, but the rest of the cooks knew nothing of
what was underneath my façade. There was Kitchen Elle, Clubbin’
Elle, School Elle, and the REAL Elle.

They were all similar with my dry sense of
humor. Kitchen Elle and Clubbin’ Elle were similar in their witty
comments, confidence, and ability to push down all emotion when
necessary. Clubbin’ Elle talked more than Kitchen Elle, especially
after some drinks. Clubbin’ Elle owned the room in her high heels,
setting her a head above the rest. At five feet nine inches, a good
pair of heels could put me at 6”1’. As much as I hated my height as
an adolescent, as an adult I loved being tall. School Elle was
attentive, and usually knew the answers to the professor’s
questions. She worked hard for the A. A taste of the real world
made it all the more important to take school seriously. The REAL
Elle was a mix of all these, but so much more. I was emotional, and
loyal to a fault. I was impulsive and was trying to work on that as
of late. I loved hard, never half way. I could be more animated
than Aaron at his gayest, dramatic hand gestures and all. I had a
penchant for all things socially inappropriate. I laughed at poop
jokes, expressed with regularity my sexual frustration and how I
managed it with my vibrator. Though I rarely shared, I had deep
seated political views on the United States’ love for dealing arms
to our enemies’ enemy, legalizing marijuana, and the structural
racism that plagued our nation. The REAL Elle could talk
passionately about any one of these topics. The other Elle’s kept
that under wraps.

I loved Aaron and Chris as they provided me
the opportunity to be the REAL Elle. Although I could easily turn
her off, it was nice to get everything out with them. Both Chris
and Aaron smoked weed like me and were more than happy to listen to
my rants while we blazed. It helped the other Elle’s keep the REAL
Elle in check when necessary, which was often.

“
Clear the haze, Elle, and
buy the next round,” Jesse said, snapping his fingers in my face,
and pulling me from my musings.

I leaned over the bar and motioned to the
bartender for another round. He gave me the nod in acknowledgement.
I had scanned the bar when we first came in. These people were
interesting to me. These bikers, rockers, and degenerates as Larry
called them. I was interested in people, how they lived, why they
did what they did, and what motivated their actions in life. When I
leaned over the bar, I saw a group of men in the corner that I
missed when we first came in. They were secluded, in a dim lit
corner by the farthest back pool table. All were big men and wore
leather vests. I was an equal opportunity dater. A hot guy was a
hot guy regardless of his color or style so long as he wore it
well. My only requirement was height. Even though I was thin, being
tall often made me feel unfeminine next to short guys. This was
especially difficult during adolescence, as I had been the same
height since the sixth grade. It took the boys a long time to catch
up. By the time they did, I was no longer interested in the boys at
school. I was already fucking grown men. Chris was tall too, so she
got it, but some of my shorter female acquaintances said I needed
to get over my height requirement. Sure, it limited my choices, but
it was what I liked. The taller the better and more likely I was to
notice someone.

Though all the guys in the corner were at
least 6’ and above, one stood out. He had to be around 6’5” with
broad shoulders and bulk that could hold my body weight. I imagined
my legs wrapped around his waist as he pinned me against the wall.
He wore a black hoodie under his leather vest and a plain black
baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. I couldn’t see his hair or
his eyes very well, but his full mouth made me want to chew on his
lips. I added sucking those lips between my teeth to the “against
the wall” image I was already working on. I saw him start to pull
the brim of his hat up when Jesse pulled me out of my fantasy.
Damn, it was just getting good too.

“
Fuck, Elle. How much weed
did you smoke? Pay the man!” Jesse hollered, as the bartender stood
in front of me with our three beers. I sat down and threw a twenty
on the bar.

“
Something catch your eye?”
Larry asked with a slight grin on his face, and his head turned to
the men in the corner. Larry could see them, but when I settled
down on my bar stool they were just out of my line of
sight.

“
Psst, no,” I brushed Larry
off. He knew I was staring at the men in the corner, but I wouldn’t
admit it. Larry didn’t push though.

“
I’ll get us another round,
and then ya’ll wanna go outside and smoke? I’m almost done with
this beer and don’t wanna have to come right back in,” Larry asked
us all, knowing it was his turn to get the next round. Larry was
going to get plastered tonight. I knew him too well. I’d leave
first, and he would talk Jesse into staying and drinking. Then he
would convince Jesse to take him to his house, which wasn’t too far
from Checks. I would likely get a call from Larry in the morning
asking me to take him to his car.

“
Sure, double fist me,”
Jesse shouted. I cringed. He was twenty-one, but acted sixteen. He
was such a dumb ass sometimes. Did he even realize what he
said?

“
I’m going to use the ladies
room and I’ll meet you out there.” Larry gave me a nod.

I was grateful Larry suggested we go
outside. Not only because I wanted a cigarette, but because it
would make leaving easier after this third beer. I didn’t live as
close to Checks as Larry and I hated driving drunk. Too many people
I knew got hit with a DUI and lost their license for months. My car
was my freedom, and I needed to be free. I never wanted to have to
depend on anyone, especially for a ride somewhere.

I looked in the bathroom mirror while
washing my hands. Damn, I was a hot mess. I splashed water on my
face and rearranged my hair under my hat. I closed my eyes and
heard Aaron whisper in my mind, “Hold your head up girl, and walk
out there like you own this bar.” I did just that.

I got outside before Larry and Jesse. I lit
a cigarette and kicked back in one of the patio chairs. I could see
the motorcycles clustered outside the patio. There was a special
area marked off for motorcycles next to the parking spots for cars.
I wondered if one of those bikes belonged to the hottie from
inside. I had no desire to drive a motorcycle, but I sure as hell
loved riding on the back of them. I rode with a guy who cooked with
me at one point. Having the wind blow over you, while speeding down
deserted roads at two in the morning was an untamed experience. I
loved it.

I imagined riding on the back of one of
those bikes with the guy from inside, clutching his huge body. I
closed my eyes and pictured my hands snaking between his legs, and
running them up the inside of his thighs. At that height, he had to
be packin’ something major in between his legs. I imagined running
my hand over it, and laughing when he swerved a bit as he hardened
in my grip. Mmmmmm….

An engine revved, and my eyes snapped open.
My legs were propped up on the chair in front of me. My thighs were
clamped around my hand, as if to try and hold back the heat that
was starting to spread between them. They guys from the corner
table were by the bikes. Ah ha, they were the owners of those
magnificent machines. I pulled my hat lower over my eyes so I could
sneak a glance at them. With them all standing, I could see my
hottie stood at least a half foot taller than the others. My thighs
clutched together tighter. They were talking in hushed tones,
intense looks passing among one another.

I pulled my hat a little lower, not wanting
to be noticed. It was as if the giant could read my mind, because I
saw his head tip up slightly. He kept talking to his buddies while
looking at me. His hat was pushed back, and I could see the sharp
angles of his jaw and cheek bones. I couldn’t tell his eye color,
but they looked dark and slanted in an exotic way. Good god they
were the most intense eyes I’d ever seen, and they were pointed
directly at me. I thanked god I smelled like fries, because it
meant my work hat was covering my own eyes. I was sure I would melt
if he was able to look me straight in the eye. In that moment, I
became aware of just how long it had been since I’d been laid
proper style. The last guy I slept with took so much coaching, I
felt like I was teaching a class instead of having sex.

I got out my phone and texted Aaron. He
would still be at Applebee’s, as he was the closing manager for the
night.

ME: wanna come to checks?

AARON: r u sure ur texting the right
person?

Aaron was gay, but it wasn’t obvious at
first. Once you got to know him, and his penchant for exaggerated
hand gestures and all things dramatic, did you realize he was into
boys and not girls. He had a medium build and a slight receding
hairline, which he kept shaved close to his head, claiming that
when a man starts to lose it (hair) he better shave the shit. He
wasn’t extravagant in his clothing, but he was always put together.
He taught me things only a homosexual man could. Like when wearing
a white shirt, always keep an extra in the car in case you get a
stain on it. Or that funky socks were cute on a girl, but a man
needed white no shows with his tennis shoes, and black or brown
socks for anything else. He also insisted on only carrying black
lighters, not stupid NASCAR ones that were sadly popular in the
heartland. And most important, he taught me it was useless to wish
to look different, and instead to work what god gave you. Along
with Chris, he helped me embrace the beauty in my height, porcelain
skin, and wild mass of curls.

ME: yeeeeeeeah. there’s highly fuckable
bikers here

AARON: picture me snapping my fingers and
telling u there’s no chance in hell I’m coming to checks.

ME: it was worth a try

AARON: now u on the other hand could take a
fuckable biker home.

ME: there is this hot one…

AARON: HIT THAT!

ME: sigh…

AARON: i’ll talk (scold you) in the morn.
night chica

Larry burst through the door, and I realized
this whole night was turning me into a giant ball of lust. My
vibrator would most definitely be getting a work out tonight. I
shoved my phone into my purse and contemplated Aaron’s words. I’d
like to take one of those men home—ha! I was deluding myself if I
really thought that would happen. I’d never had a one night
stand.

“
Close your mouth, Elle.
You’ll catch flies,” Larry hollered a little too loud. I knew that
tone and volume. He and Jesse had done shots. Larry’s voice always
went up a few decibels when he was drunk, and he was well on his
way to smashed. I pulled my hat up just enough so he could see my
eyes, and gave him the look of death. From my peripheral vision, I
saw a few of the bikers go inside, while a few roared away on their
bikes.

“
I see you did shots,” I
said to Larry.

“
Yep. Jesse found some girl
he wanted to impress and bought a round for us. I was pretty sure
you wouldn’t mind missing out. I know this is what you really
want,” he said, passing me his pipe.

“
Is it packed?” I asked
Larry, nodding toward his metal pipe.

“
Not yet.” I passed it back
to him.

I pulled out the glass bowl I bought off the
hippie and my sack of nuggs. “I’ll pack mine if you’ll go with me
somewhere tomorrow,” I propositioned Larry. I was pretty sure in
his drunken state he would agree to anything, but I also knew he
had my back and would say yes to what I was going to ask even if he
was sober.

“
Fire it up!” Yep, he was
drunk.

I packed the bowl and took a hit, savoring
the taste that was so much better than Larry’s schwagg. I passed it
to him. It was small so we each would only get a hit or two, but
that’s all I needed at this time of night, and Larry really didn’t
need any at all.

I exhaled and told Larry, “When I pick you
up to get your car, go with me to meet some guy. I got a line on a
new dealer.”

“
Aw, of course Elle.” Larry
did this for me before. I never told him why I asked him to go
along when I met new dealers. He probably assumed I didn’t feel
safe going alone, which was the truth, but it was more than that. I
liked weed, but I hated buying it. When money was tight I could
always get schwagg, the low quality weed, off the guys at work. A
good line on nuggs, the good shit, was harder to find and it never
lasted for too long. Every few months I had to meet up with someone
new to make a purchase. The streets taught me the hard way that
being a girl who buys her own weed can be dangerous.

Each time I went to buy a sack from someone
I didn’t know, I was putting myself in danger. As a teen, I didn’t
care. You could say I had a death wish, but I just thought nothing
could hurt me. I was proven wrong one night when I was seventeen,
and I had to fight a guy off me. I went to his house alone (first
mistake), with my hair down and not in work clothes (second
mistake), and didn’t tell anyone where I was going (third mistake).
I got there, and the guy was fucked up on more than just weed. He
shut the door behind me before I noticed he had crazy eyes goin’
on. I tried to be slick and just give him the money while asking
for my sack. He had other plans. He walked towards me until I felt
a couch hit my calves. I can still remember the sulfur smell on
him, and his crazy eyes as he told me to sit down and stay a while.
He shoved me down on the couch, and my fight or flight response
kicked in. I jumped up and shoved him into the coffee table. He
fell back, but managed to grab my ankle as I ran towards the door.
I fell and he was on me before I could get back up. I’m not sure
what happened right then, but I went bat shit crazy, yelling and
flailing my arms and legs. Despite his fucked up state, clearly on
uppers, I was able to get a leg under him, and used all the
strength in my thighs to shove him backward with my foot. He
stumbled back a bit, and I took that moment to get to my feet. He
was on his knees about to stand up when I shoved my knee under his
chin, sending his head flying back and blood spurting out of his
nose. I ran the fuck out before he could get back up. I clicked the
key fob to my car and slid in, starting it and peeling out in
record time. I drove a few blocks before I pulled over, my hands
shaking. It was a mistake I’d made before, but it was the last time
I made it.