The Weight of Her Name

CHAPTER ONE

Meet Dave

My name is David Austin, and the story I’m about to share with you is one that causes me great pain.

I’ve been told that it helps to get such things out into the open, to begin the healing process, but I’m still extremely reluctant to share it. It feels as though, somehow, if I speak about it, then it will become real. Solid. Concrete.

Once I tell you my story, I won’t be able to run from it anymore.

For the past few years, I’ve been hiding in a bottle, trying to pretend that none of it ever happened. That the girl was never there.

It was five years ago now, although I can still remember it as vividly as if I were still in the thick of it.

Light shone through the curtains.

Slowly, still groggy, I began the arduous task of rousing myself from my pillow. Last night’s conquest stirred slightly in the bed beside me, rolled over and quickly fell back to sleep.

I’d kick her out later. Right now, I needed a smoke.

Taking a swig from the ever-present bottle of vodka on the nightstand, I located my pants where they’d been carelessly thrown the night before, pulled them on and slid open the door to my balcony.

The sun was blaring, far too bright for this early in the morning. Squinting against it, I rubbed my eyes with tattooed knuckles, still scratched and red from a random bar fight the night before.

Taking a cigarette from the pack on the table, I dropped into one of the chairs, lit it and took stock of the day.

Smoke trailed from the glowing ember of my ciggy, tinged a faint blue. I watched it drift away on the wind.

I always woke heavy in the mornings, as if yesterday had slipped through my fingers, and today was about to go the same way.

Another day of sex and violence, loud music and fast cars.

Scratching at my stomach, I took another deep draw of smoke.

Who cares? I thought. This is my life.

Standing and looking down at the world below, I could hear sirens and car horns. Traders at the market bawled out various claims about their stinking goods to anyone within earshot, whether the passers-by wanted to hear them or not.

I felt like screaming at the world to just be quiet. Shut up.

But no one would care.

Anyone who heard me would just think I was a madman.

Flicking my smoke over the edge, I wandered back inside just as my phone started vibrating its way across the table. Yawning and running one hand through my hair, I grabbed the device and swiped to answer.

“Yeah?”

“Hey, mate, it’s Justin. You comin’ round today? The other boys aren’t far off.”

“Yeah, mate. Gimme a few. I just got up. See you in about twenty?” I mumbled.

“No worries, man. I’ll see ya then.”

There was no click as he hung up anymore, just the incessant beeping.

Idly tossing my phone onto the couch, I headed for the bedroom.

“Oi,” I barked at the brunette woman still guarding her spot beneath my sheets, whose name I had no interest in remembering. “Get up. Time to go.”

She was groggy from the night before as she slowly sat up.

“What time is it?”

“Time to get out. I got stuff to do.”

I had no concern for what she did with her day, but mine was my own. I didn’t need any baggage slowing me down.

I dropped my pants to the floor once more and headed for the shower. I felt dirty, sandy-eyed and itchy.

The water was fresh, though, scrubbing away the remnants of yesterday and bringing me back into the present. Once I stepped out, I felt, at least slightly, renewed.

Towelling myself down, I looked in the mirror.

The large Chinese dragon across my chest was a deep azure, intricately entwined with its emerald counterpart. All my tattoos had a story, and seeing them laid out across my skin, I couldn’t help but remember the circumstances that had led me to have each one painfully etched there.

An appreciative purr from the doorway made me turn.

The woman was watching me. Lust plainly written across her face.

It was flattering, of course, but I had neither the time nor the desire for her. I’d gotten what I wanted the night before.

“Get dressed.”

They were the only words I spoke as I pushed past her and through the doorway to find my clothes.

Sullenly, she found her own clothes and began putting them on, watching me with an almost childlike pout on her lips.

I knew what she wanted, but I wasn’t going to give myself to her again.

It was more from the stubbornness of my own heart than because I didn’t want her. Knowing she couldn’t have what she wanted somehow gave me a cruel sense of satisfaction.

Stepping out the front door, I shrugged on my black leather jacket.

It was a good day for a ride. Now that I had my sunglasses on, the sun wasn’t so bright.

Taking the steps two at a time, I was eager to get on my bike and just go. Let the open road take me where it may.

My destination was on the other side of town, and I took out another smoke. Further waking up, I was strong and ready.

I knew the woman wanted to jump on the back with me, so I’d have to ditch her.

This was my time now.

“Know how to get yourself home?” I called over my shoulder. “See ya round.”

I wasn’t waiting for a reply.

Dimly, in the back of my mind, I could hear her shouting after me as I reached the landing, calling for me to wait.

Not a chance.

My girl was waiting for me when I reached the garage.

Long and low. Green and gold on black.

She purred more sensuously than the woman had when I turned the key, rumbling beneath me. Two quick turns of the throttle filled the surroundings with her roar, and as I eased out the clutch, she seemed as eager to break free as I was.

The world had started its day hours before.

As I rode past, I could see people plodding about their own business, each lost in their own existence, as I was in mine. Some glanced towards me as my lady flew past them. Others intentionally averted their gaze, as though looking at me would shatter their illusion of a perfect life.

The world was a harsh mistress.

That I knew all too well.

The scars on my body bore silent testimony to that fact.

It was a good life, though, and I was always grateful for those moments when, stopped at the traffic lights, I could take a second to feel the sun on my face and the wind passing me by.

I was as uncaring as the breeze as I wove through the streets, bound for the other side of town to see the boys.

My stomach was growling, though, and the liquor from the night before was still churning inside me. Something to eat first was probably a good idea.

I needed petrol anyway.

It always made me laugh, seeing how people reacted to my demeanour and appearance when I pulled into a service station.

A certain amount of apprehension was written across the faces around me. A small part of me relished it, made more confident by these simpletons’ fear of me.

The fact that they didn’t—and couldn’t—understand the freedom I lived for gave me a certain satisfaction.

Yet, in some small way, I envied them.

Their lives seemed so uncomplicated.

Their biggest concerns were probably what was on TV tonight or whether they’d remembered to turn off the stove.

Not whether some drunken fool was going to pull a gun on them that night.

I grabbed a sausage roll on my way out, something easy enough to eat with one hand while riding, and straddled my lady again.

She was still hot to the touch and always there for me.

At least she would always be there.

Riding back out, I knew my mates would be expecting me as well.

Best hurry along and shed such longings from my mind.

Today was Justin’s birthday.

And it was going to be one hell of a night.