Sad, but true.
I stepped beside her and tapped her on the shoulder. When she turned to face me, I kissed her.
“That was nice,” she said with a smile.
“I like your lips,” I said.
Her face went flush. “I like yours, too.”
The remark sounded juvenile. Nevertheless, it was true. When we kissed, I filled with reassurance that Reggie was special for reasons far beyond her intelligence.
She placed the ham in one skillet, and the eggs in another. “Are you always like this, or is this what you do the day after sex to impress the woman?”
“What do you mean?”
“Simple question,” she said. “Is what I’m seeing the real you?”
“There’s only one me,” I said. “This is it.”
“Tell me about the tattoo on your back. Is the person who wears that tattoo the same person that’s standing here?”
I let out an inadvertent sigh. “Four of my friends and I moved here from Montana when we were eighteen, right after high school. I applied and was accepted to MIT but decided to forego an education to be with my friends. We started a motorcycle club that included only the five of us, and later added another man who was likeminded and a military veteran. The six of us wear this tattoo.”
“What kind of a club is it?”
“I can’t divulge much,” I said, hoping she’d change the subject.
“Sworn to secrecy?” she asked, her tone thick with sarcasm. After a moment of silence on my part, she glanced over her shoulder. “I guess so.”
“It’s just. It’s a private club. As silly as it might sound, we don’t discuss the club’s business outside the clubhouse.”
“Awwe,” she said in a soft voice. “You and your friends have a clubhouse. Do you have a special handshake?”
I glared.
“I’m kidding,” she said. “It just sounds, I don’t know. Like something a twenty-year-old would be doing, not a forty-year-old.”
“Believe me, I often wonder if I should be doing something different. When I was eighteen, it seemed like a great idea. Now? It seems like it’s time for a change.”
“Do you guys ride together?”
“We do everything together. The club has been my life since I was eighteen. I see the same men every day and have since we were in school. We even work together.”
“At the carwash?”
“Yeah.”
“So, that’s a real thing? The carwash?” She glanced over her shoulder and made eye contact with me. “Not a front to launder money?”
It was a front to launder money. Shocked by her boldness, I attempted to hide my surprise that she mentioned it. “The car wash is a legitimate business. There are several carwashes, from here to Oceanside. Five of us work there, full-time.”
“Oh.” She turned to face the stove. “Sounds fun.”
I stood silently while she finished cooking the eggs, wondering just what I was that I hoped to get out of the time I spent with her. If I wanted anything beyond the night we already had together, I had to be totally honest with her.
The other men were honest with their women. I saw no reason why I couldn’t be so with Reggie. What it got down to, however, was whether I could trust her when it came to maintaining silence in any and all matters pertaining to the club and the club’s business.
She placed the food-filled plates at the breakfast table. “C’mon,” she said, tilting her head toward the table. “This stuff isn’t going to eat itself.”
I joined her at the table, feeling slightly uneasy about the entire situation with the club.
“Tell me about the hat.” She poked a piece of egg and lifted it to her mouth. “Why is it so important to you?”
“I met someone—a woman—who I found intriguing, and kind. For what it’s worth, I only saw her once, and we weren’t sexual at all. We just talked. At any rate, she picked out the hat. It’s been special to me, because that was a special day. For many reasons.”
“You haven’t seen her since?” she asked.
“No, I haven’t.”
“That’s cool that you hung onto the hat for that long.”
“I suppose. It’s not as important to me today as it was a few weeks ago.”
“Why is that?”
I swallowed my eggs and took a bite of toast. While I chewed the food, I thought about her question. In all honesty, Reggie filled the void left by the hat, and of the memory of Shelley’s death.
“Because,” I said. “I found you.”
She lowered her fork and gave me a blank look. “That makes no sense.”
“I had that hat for ten years. When I lost it, I freaked out. Since then, I’ve talked to a friend about it, realized losing it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, and I met you. Meeting you allowed me to understand the hat wasn’t holding as special of a place as I thought it was. I’d been clinging to the memories of one fun-filled day with a friend. Now, I can make as many fun-filled days as I want—with you.”
Her gaze lowered to her plate. She poked at her eggs and then glanced up. “I like you.”
I smiled. “I like you, too.”
“Good,” she said. “I’d hate for this to be one-sided.”
We exchanged glances with one another as we ate, smiling the entire time. I fully realized Reggie wasn’t my girlfriend, by any means, but she was as close to a girlfriend as I’d had since high school.
I hoped my future with her was long-lived, and without the problems that many of the men in the club had had in the past.
As we finished our food, the sound of my phone ringing caught my attention.
Reggie looked up. “Do you need to get that?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It can wait.”
“How do you know it can wait?”
“It’s someone I don’t want to talk to.”
“Your other girlfriend.” Her face washed with an embarrassed look. “I’m not saying that I’m your—”
“I know what you’re saying, and no is the answer. It’s one of the guys in the club.”
“How do you know?”
“Ring tone,” I responded. “They each have a special ring tone.”
“Five different ring tones?”
“Yeah.”
“And that particular guy doesn’t have a Sunday morning emergency?”
It was Cash. He might have thought he had an emergency, but I doubted it was anything that required my undivided attention. It certainly wasn’t more important than what was in front of me.
I pierced my last piece of ham with the tines of my fork. “I’ll call him back when we’re done.”
She stood. “I’ll get the dishes. See what he wants. Last thing I need is your friends mad at me because I’m keeping you from your routine. Eventually it’ll probably come to that, but right now it’s a bit early.” She grinned. “Go call your friend.”
I finished my ham, handed her my plate, and went to the bedroom. A voicemail message from Cash was waiting for me to listen to it. I pressed play and raised the phone to my ear.
Hey midget, this is Cash. I know why you’re all fucked up in the head about the hat. The chick with the spikey hair that offed herself. Drop that shit, brother, you two weren’t even banging. Get over it and get your shit together. We need to get this job figured out, and you’re the hold up. Pull your head out of your ass and do your fucking job.
I erased the message and tossed the phone on the bed. I stared at it, recalling the many instances Cash and I had opposed to one another.
I wondered if I could maintain my position in the club and have a heathy relationship with Reggie—or anyone for that matter. Committing crimes and stealing from federally funded institutions was going to end one day. It had to. If we didn’t end it ourselves, it would end at the hands of the law.
“Are you okay?” Reggie asked from behind me.
I faced her and forced a crooked smile. “Yeah.”
&
nbsp; “What did he want?”
“He needed help with something.”
“Are you going to help him?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
I walked up to her and gave her a kiss. “Because,” I said. “I’m busy focusing on other things.”
“Is he going to get mad?”
“He stays mad,” I responded. “It’s the only mood he knows.”
“This guy’s a friend of yours?”
“He used to be,” I said. “Not so much anymore.”
It seemed strange admitting it, but it was true. In recent years, I felt anxious every time I was in Cash’s presence. Everyone did. What mistakes were made on our jobs were typically made by Cash. Those mistakes often came close to costing us our freedom. If it wasn’t for the rest of the members hustling to fix his fuckups, we’d undoubtedly all be in jail or dead.
She made a funny face and dropped her gaze to the floor. After a moment, she looked up. “People like that suck the life out of everyone around them.”
“Yeah,” I said. “They sure do.”
19
Reggie
Ten feet away from the trash can, he paused. He glanced over his shoulder and grinned. “Watch this.”
“You’ll miss.”
“Just watch.”
“Oh, I’ll watch,” I said. “Watch you miss.”
I wasn’t the only one interested in the outcome. Everyone in the coffeeshop was watching. One of the things I liked about Tito was that he didn’t care. Not even a little bit. Make the shot, or not, he didn’t care if the people saw him.
He lobbed the cup high into the air. As soon as the it reached its apex, I knew what the end result would be. I glanced around the coffeeshop, making note of the silent gasps, shaking heads, and pointing fingers.
The cup crashed down onto the edge of the trash can’s opening. It then flipped in the air end over end. When it landed on the floor, the lip popped off. Frappuccino funk leeched from the cup and pooled on the tile.
Tito looked at cup, me, and then the Barista. “Can I get a mop, please?”
“Bahahahaha,” I said. “I knew it.”
Wearing a grin, I finished my drink while Tito cleaned up the mess. After returning the mop to the mop closet, he waved to the crowd of onlookers and then took his seat at my side.
He collapsed into the oft leather chair. “That ended poorly.”
There was no sign of embarrassment or frustration at the outcome of his charade, only indifference.
“It doesn’t bother you that you missed it, and everyone was watching?” I asked.
“Not at all.”
“Why?”
I knew the reason, or at least I thought I did. I wanted to hear him say it, though.
“Because there’s no definitive answer to the problem,” he said. “It’s all guesswork. That, and there’s no consequence. Nothing changes if I miss.”
His response was exactly what I suspected it would be. It was the same way I looked at obstacles in my life. If I could solve the problem, I’d work my ass off to do so. If there was no way to solve it, I’d give my best guess and live with the outcome.
“What about this?” I asked, wagging my finger back and forth between us. “Does it bother you that it’s not something you can figure out?”
His gaze narrowed. “What? You and me?”
“Yes. Us. This thing we’re doing.”
“Not at all,” he said, rubbing a spot of drink matter from his jeans with a napkin. “It’s similar to solving a problem, though.”
“How so?” I asked.
He set the napkin aside. “I do something you take exception to. It’s my duty to make note of that, store it, and make every effort in the future not to make the same mistake again. It’s not to say the act in question was a mistake, but if you took exception to it, it becomes one. Conversely, if I do or say something, and you express elation or happiness, it’s my same duty to make note of that, store it, and utilize it in the future to evoke the same emotion.”
“I like your outlook on matters,” I said.
“It’s common sense.” He turned to face me. “You wouldn’t intentionally do something if you knew from experience that it would upset me, would you?”
“I might.”
He gave me a sideways look. “Why?”
I shrugged. “Because I can be combative sometimes. It’s just an ornery streak I have. I do it to evoke emotion. Nothing big, though. More practical jokes than anything.”
“But you wouldn’t intentionally do something to hurt me?”
“Heck no.
“You burned Jared’s things. Do you think that hurt him?”
“I gave him an opportunity to keep that from happening. He could have taken his things. He chose not to.”
“Do you like ice cream?” he asked.
“Where the hell did that come from?” I asked.
“Just a simple question.”
Food was my friend. I ate when I was angry, when I was sad, when I was happy, and when I was tired. Sweets were the pinnacle, and always would be.
“Heck yes, I like ice cream. Who doesn’t?”
“Do you want to go get some ice cream?”
I stood. “What part of I like ice cream didn’t you understand?”
“I’m dreading tonight.” He rose from his seat. “I need ice cream to put me in a good mood.”
“What happens tonight?” I asked.
“We have our weekly meeting,” he responded.
“Oh.” I winced. “Is Mister Happy going to be there?”
“He sure is.”’
“That sucks.”
“Life is a mirror,” he said. “When we’re happy, happiness is our reflection. I need to eat some ice cream before I go to the meeting. That way, I’ll walk in happy. He’ll see me happy, and he’ll be happy in return.”
“I disagree,” I said. “Not about the ice cream. About the mirror thing. I think sometimes people do like what I was talking about a minute ago. They do and say things to evoke emotion in someone, thinking the outcome will be in their favor. They may not necessarily mean to harm the recipient; they just think the emotion they cause will bring the result they want. Personally, I think you should tell him how you feel, and why. Let him know his actions and words piss you off, and that the end result is you’re pissed off. He’s hoping your anger will bring the result he’s after. Let him know it won’t.”
He lifted my chin with his index finger and gave me a stern look. “You may not agree with my mirror analogy, but we’re getting the ice cream.”
“No argument here,” I said with a smile.
He kissed me. “Let’s hope it leads to no arguments in the meeting, either.”
20
Tito
I believed love was like a plant. Upon sprouting, it was weak and underdeveloped. In time, it had the possibility to grow stronger, provided it was supplied with care and maintenance. Affection was its water. Kindness, its nourishment. Compassion, its sunshine.
Reggie caused me to take a step back and second-guess my previous beliefs. I now wondered if two people could be so undeniably compatible that love merely existed between them, waiting to be found and explored.
Toying with that notion, I spent three successive days with her. By Wednesday morning, I was certain we shared something special, and was willing to go to whatever length I must to explore the possibility that we were destined to be together.
Sitting in the clubhouse for the MC’s weekly meeting, I lacked the desire to participate in the club’s functions. High on ice cream, I decided I’d play it cool and hope I could figure out a way to make everything work out.
Baker scanned the group, and then looked at me. “What do you mean you don’t know yet?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“If you were challenged to hack into the Pentagon’s computer, you could do that, right?”
“They don’t have a computer, but yes. I could.”
“Change the address of LAPD’s head detective in his profile in their database?”
I sighed. “Yes.”
“Explain to me why you’re having a hard time with the security system at a rinky-dink coin and gold trader’s place of business in fucking Ramona?”
“I’m not having a hard time. I just haven’t had the time to mess with it.”
He mussed his hair and then looked at me with crazy eyes. “It’s been two weeks.” He glared at the floor between us for a moment, and then looked up. “Is it the hat? Are you still fucked up over that goddamned hat?”
“Nope. Over the hat, Boss.”
He scratched his beard feverishly. “Over it, huh?”
“Yep.”
“You haven’t responded to text messages. You haven’t been around the shop. Your participation in the meeting last week was lackluster, at best. The only thing you’ve accomplished in the past two weeks is to go get a bunch of pink flowers tattooed on your arm.” He lowered his hands and arched an eyebrow. “Is there something going on that I need to know about?”
“Nope.”
“I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me, Brother.”
“I don’t need help.”
His brows raised. “Obviously, you do.”
“I’ll look into the security system,” I said. “As soon as I get a minute.”
“So, you’ve just been busy as fuck here lately?” he asked jokingly.
“Actually,” I responded. “I am.”
“With what?”’
“Life.”
“What, exactly, is going on?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Cash quipped. “What the fuck’s going on, midget?”
There wasn’t anything going on. Sooner or later, everyone gets tired of their job. I was tired of mine. I didn’t need the money. The risk was no longer worth the reward.
Initially, I agreed to participate in the club’s illegal acts because it was a challenge. Keeping up with the advancements in technology was a full-time job. Successfully breaking a code, hacking into a mainframe, or mirroring a security system was the reward for my efforts. Proof that I was staying one step ahead of the technological game. For years, I liked what I did.
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