Coyote Lee

by Jessie Cooke

  “Oui.” Coyote rolled his eyes and Maz said, “Yes, boss, they chased me.”

  “By that time we caught up with them, but we didn’t know which way Steve had gone, so we followed Maz. I think that was the mistake, Dad. I think we fucked up. As soon as they saw there were three of us, they flipped that car around and took off. They went after Steve.”

  “Or they had backup that spotted Steve. Him taking off by himself probably looked more suspicious than anything.”

  “Did they catch him?” The thread that Coyote’s patience was hanging by was growing thinner by the second while they all seemed to be making him drag shit out of them.

  “He’s not answering his phone,” Bruf said. “We have no idea.”

  “Fuck!” Coyote was going to cuss a second time when the sound of another bike coming in the gates drew their attention. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until Steve rode under the light post and Coyote saw that it was him, in one piece. The kid rode right up and stopped his bike about two feet away. He pulled off his helmet and he was grinning from ear to ear. That was either a good sign, or the kid was high. “Where the fuck you been?”

  “Sorry, Boss. I was trying to circle back around after me and Maz split up, but they must have called for backup. I came up on two patrol cars almost head-on. I spun around and went back the way I came, but that unmarked car showed up. I thought I was sunk, but I saw this alley and figured if nothing else, I could hide the drugs before they stopped me. I didn’t get a chance to do that, because the unmarked was right on my tail. But when I came out of the alley, I saw this construction site. The guys looked like they were packing up for the day and the gate was open with a lot of traffic coming in and out. I went around the block and then circled back through a few backyards. When I got to the construction site, I just drove in, parked the bike behind some heavy equipment, and pulled off my shirt.”

  “You pulled off your shirt?”

  “Yes sir. I pulled it off and picked up a yellow hard hat that was sitting in the seat of this crane and I put that on. Then I grabbed the first thing I saw, a sledgehammer. When the cops drove through, I was slinging that hammer, cracking cement and sweating like the rest of the guys.”

  “Well, I’ll be a son of a bitch. They didn’t see the bike?”

  “Nah, I slid it sideways and left it under the crane. I had to crawl out and they would have had to crawl in there to find it.”

  “I’ll be a son of a bitch,” Coyote said, again. “Nobody on that construction site noticed you weren’t supposed to be there?”

  “Well, yeah. The foreman or whatever…he was suddenly started yelling at me, asking me what I thought I was doing.”

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing. I just tipped my hard hat at him, picked up my shirt, and dug out my bike. I’m sorry I didn’t call but I lost my phone somewhere.” The phones were burner phones…disposable and untraceable…so Coyote wasn’t worried about that.

  “I’ll be damned.” He looked around at Wolf, Bruf, and Maz. They were all looking at Steve in awe. “You got my stuff?” Steve opened his saddlebag and pulled out an insulated bag. He reached into that and pulled out a plastic bag filled with a tan-colored powder. Grinning from ear to ear the kid said, “Didn’t lose a drop, Boss.”

  Coyote chuckled and said, “Well, Sledge, it looks like you got your road name.” The other guys laughed and when they stopped, Coyote looked at his son and Bruf and said, “Get it to Madera tonight.”

  “Dad, it’s New Year’s Eve…” Wolf was going to try, but one look from Coyote shut him down. His son took the bag from Sledge and then clapped him on the back and said, “Good job, prospect.”

  Sledge looked like he was about to burst with pride. Coyote’s day was a little better for witnessing it. He waited for Bruf and Wolf to leave and Sledge and Maz to go inside and then he took out his phone and started to call Talia…but decided against that too. He put the phone away and took off.

  Coyote didn’t want to lie to Talia, and he never had, if you didn’t count his not telling her he was married that first time they were together. He just didn’t have the energy for “family” tonight, but he knew that would hurt her feelings. He figured he’d just tell her that something came up the next time he saw her. He knew she had Sabrina and they would have a good time together, so he didn’t feel horrible about canceling on her. He told her he had business he had to deal with and she didn’t ask any more questions. Sabrina asked questions sometimes about the club, and Coyote answered them as well as he could without telling her too much, but Talia didn’t want to know, which suited him just fine.

  He left the club, waving at Cinch on his way out, but not telling him where he was going. That was a no-no for the president, but he was tired of making shit up, and he was tired of phone calls when he just wanted to be left alone. If anything else came up tonight, they could call Manson, or they could take care of it themselves. He wasn’t their fucking father anyway. He needed just one night, just him, and a bottle. He got on the freeway and drove west until he came to the last exit within the city limits. He took that exit and drove through a rundown part of town with one of the highest crime rates in the valley. It was a place that even the cops tried not to hang around, and a place where Coyote could be invisible. He pulled into the parking lot of the hole-in-the-wall bar called Spirits and drove around back. He pressed his remote when he got to the garage door and it rolled up so that he could drive inside. He parked his bike alongside two others, pulled off his vest and stuffed it in his saddlebag, and then pressed the remote once more to close the door.

  The owner of Spirits was a former biker. He catered to bikers on two conditions. They couldn’t wear their colors in the bar, and they didn’t conduct any business while they were there. He gave them access to the garage so they didn’t have to worry about their bikes, and entry through the back door. Their drinks were half priced and for those that wanted to do more than imbibe, there were even rooms upstairs where girls waited to “entertain” them. Coyote never went there. Hookers weren’t his thing, and they weren’t a necessity. The patch on his vest would get him any pussy he wanted, but he had discovered years earlier that he was truly a one-woman man. It had been Colleen for twenty-five years, minus the one night with Talia, and now it was Talia, for as long as she would have him. He didn’t go to a bar for sex. He went for the whiskey, and the solitude.

  He walked into the dark, dank bar and breathed in the aroma of stale smoke and alcohol. The jukebox was playing country music in the corner and a couple looked like they were holding each other up on the tiny little dance floor. There were two burly guys at a table near the front. They both wore white t-shirts and jeans. Coyote recognized their tattoos as those of a club called the Reapers. They were from up north and probably just passing through on their way to a New Year’s party. One of them nodded at him and Coyote nodded back, before taking a seat at the bar. There was only one other person on the stools, an old man that looked like he had grown out of it. He was staring at a spot on the wall and Coyote wondered if the guy was even alive.

  “What can I get you?” The bartender was a middle-aged guy, a cousin or something of the owner. He was middle-eastern and had a gruff personality. That was good too. Coyote hated a chatty bartender.

  “Crown and Coke,” he said. The bartender put a glass in front of him and poured. Coyote slid his credit card toward him and the man picked it up and turned to lay it down next to the register. Coyote had just brought his glass up to his lips when he felt someone sit down to his right. When he turned his head he said, “Fuck me. What do you want?”

  Meeks said, “I was thinking about rum and Coke. What are you having?”

  “You know what I mean. What the fuck are you doing here? Are you following me?”

  “No way. This is my favorite bar.”

  Coyote rolled his eyes and finally took a drink of his whiskey. He drank about half of what was in the glass and then sat it back down and sai
d, “Yeah, this seems like the kind of place a ginger cop would frequent.” Meeks laughed and then directed his attention to the bartender.

  “Give me what he’s having.” The bartender came over and poured Meeks a drink and took his card. As soon as he walked away Coyote said:

  “Seriously, what the fuck? I’m trying to have some quiet time here.”

  “How’s your prospect? You know, the big guy…I think his name is Steve?”

  Coyote shrugged. “I assume he’s fine. I haven’t heard otherwise. How’s your grandfather?”

  Meeks smiled, held up his drink in Coyote’s direction, and said, “He’s good, thanks to your son.”

  “Glad to hear. Happy New Year. Now, leave me the fuck alone.”

  “Sure,” Meeks said, “as soon as I tell you what I came to say and finish my drink.”

  “And what’s that?” Coyote asked, bored with the conversation already.

  Meeks finished his drink first and then he said, “I’m watching you.”

  Coyote laughed and motioned at the bartender. “Okay. Should I be afraid?”

  “Settle up?” Meeks said to the bartender. Coyote was sipping his second whiskey when Meeks signed the check for his. Coyote felt the other man touch his back and he flinched. He didn’t like to be touched. “Happy New Year, Coyote.” He started to walk away and then he turned back and said, “Oh…yes, you should be afraid. See, I did your son a favor that night to return the one he did for me. But I can’t forget what we found on him, even if I asked everyone else to. I know you’re running drugs in my county. I know you’re supplying most of the guns on the street…and I intend to do something about it.”

  Coyote raised his glass. “Good luck,” he said, before swallowing it down, and signaling the bartender for another.

  34

  Early Morning, New Year’s Day, 2009

  Wolf stood outside Trisha’s door, debating with himself. He hadn’t been alone with her since that night at her sister’s apartment over two months ago. He’d seen her around the club almost every day, and she was friendly…but things were definitely not good between them. He missed her…and not just the sex. He missed his friend. He missed the intimacy. It was after midnight before he and Bruf got back to the club. Bruf had immediately found himself a bottle and a woman and disappeared upstairs. One of the new girls, a blonde with big, fake boobs and a perfect ass, was flirting with Wolf and he seriously considered taking her upstairs…but he couldn’t get Trisha off his mind. The party had slimmed down by the time they got back and Trisha was gone. He started wondering if she’d gone upstairs alone, or with someone else…and the more he thought about it, the more he felt like he had to know.

  Now as he stood outside her door, he told himself it was none of his business if she was in there with someone. She told him she loved him, and she wanted to be with him. He was the one who said they didn’t have a future…and he had meant it. So, he had no fucking right. With a frustrated sigh he turned away and he was almost to the top of the stairs when he heard the door open and he turned back around. When he saw Cinch step out, he lost his mind. That was the only way he’d be able to describe it to anyone, and even himself, later. He didn’t talk. He didn’t think. He just barreled headfirst toward the other man, tackling him like a football player making a sack. Cinch was caught completely off-guard and both men went flying. Trisha screamed…or at least Wolf thought she did. He wasn’t sure if it was her, or one of the other girls. As the two men rolled around on the floor throwing punches, an audience gathered. The doors to the rooms began opening and half-naked men and women were stepping out. Wolf could hear the voices, but not the words. His ears were ringing as Cinch pummeled him with his big, expertly trained fists.

  “What the fuck is going on?” Bruf’s voice was the first one that actually penetrated his skull, but as Wolf looked up at his friend, Cinch used that distraction to his advantage. He threw a well-placed punch…and Wolf’s lights went out, just like that.

  Wolf had no idea how long he was out. When he woke up, Bruf was at the side of his bed, dressed in a pair of pajama pants now. Wolf wasn’t sure, but he thought maybe his friend was naked earlier. He smiled and said, “My face hurts, Johnny.” His laugh afterwards, or just the words themselves, probably made his friend think he had gone completely insane.

  “Are you high? Did you taste some of that shit we delivered earlier?”

  “Nah,” Wolf said, still chuckling. He wasn’t high, but he might be crazy. “Inside joke.”

  “I’m not sure this is the time for jokes. Cinch says you just attacked him out of nowhere. The man killed people with his bare hands in the Middle East. What the fuck were you thinking?”

  Wolf started to sit up, but the pressure in his face and head changed his mind. He lay back against the pillow and said, “I wasn’t thinking. Where is he? I owe him an apology.”

  Bruf laughed then. “I think that can wait. Trisha went down to get an ice pack for your face and see if she can find some antiseptic and gauze and shit.”

  “Trisha? She’s not pissed?”

  “Oh, fuck. Is that what this was about? You got it for Trish?” Wolf didn’t answer him. He honestly didn’t know how to answer that question. He was almost relieved when Trisha came through the door and Bruf said, “I’m gonna go back to my room…if you two are okay?”

  “We’re fine,” Trisha said. “Thank you, Bruf.” She didn’t sound mad. That gave Wolf hope. He found out quickly that it was false hope. As soon as Bruf was gone, Trisha turned toward him with fire in her eyes. “What in the hell were you thinking? Or better yet, who in the hell do you think you are?”

  “Trish…” He tried to sit up again, and again his head felt like it might explode. He cussed and then said, “Please don’t be mad. I’m sorry. I’ll apologize to Cinch…I don’t know what happened. I lost my mind.”

  “You damned sure did,” she said. She picked up something off the table next to the bed and dropped it on his face, making him cry out in pain. It was an ice pack and she was the roughest nurse ever.

  “Fuck! That hurt!”

  “Good.” He reached up with a sore hand to take it off and she snapped at him again, “Keep it on there or your face is going to swell up like a pumpkin.”

  “Trisha, I’m sorry.” He sounded like he was talking through his nose; he had a twang like an old country singer.

  “I heard you say that already.”

  “Then what do you want me to say?”

  She put her hands on her slim hips and looked down at him. “Nothing, Wolf. I want you to just not say anything for a change. I want you to listen. I asked you if we had a future and you said no…so I moved on. Now, you have to accept that. You have no right to beat up someone that I choose to have sex with. You have no right to even know who I’m having sex with. If you are going to keep tabs on me and attack the men who come out of my room, then I’m going to move out.”

  “Move out? No!” He sat up that time. He wanted to scream, the pain in his head was so bad. He bit it back and just let a low groan escape from his throat. With a sigh, Trisha picked something else up off the bedside table. It was a bottle of painkillers. She opened it and shook three out into her hand. She handed him the pills and a bottle of water.

  “Take them,” she said. Wolf popped them in his mouth and brought the bottle up to his lips. They hurt when he wrapped them around it, but he drank and swallowed the pills. Trisha took the bottle back out of his hand and sat it on the table. “You should get some sleep.”

  “Trish…you’re right, about everything. I can’t tell you that I don’t want a future with you and then tell you that you can’t be with anyone else. I told myself that tonight and I walked away from your door. Then, I saw Cinch walk out…and I lost it. I can’t even explain it to myself.”

  “You’re right. You can’t say you don’t want me, and then dictate who can have me,” she said, sadly.

  “That’s not…” He stopped himself. He was going to say that was
n’t what he was doing or thinking. But the truth was that was exactly it. He hadn’t changed his mind about not wanting to be with her forever…but he didn’t want anyone else being with her either. “I’m sorry,” he said, again.

  “Get some sleep.” She walked away and when she got to the door he said:

  “Trisha, Happy New Year.” He couldn’t see her face, but when she laughed, it sounded like she was crying. Wolf could already tell that 2009 was not going to be his year.

  “Mom!” Sabrina called out for Talia as she came in the front door. She didn’t always do that, but Coyote was supposed to come over for their New Year’s Eve celebration and she didn’t want to catch them doing anything gross. “Mom! I’m home a little early.” Sabrina walked through the living room. There were candles set up all over. They looked like they had burned down about halfway before they were snubbed out. There were ashes in the fireplace and a blanket on the couch. She rolled her eyes, but she was happy for her mom. Talia had lived too much of her life alone and the more Sabrina saw her with Coyote, the more she realized it was because her mother had been waiting for him.

  She went through the dining room next. The table was set, with what passed in their house for the “good” china. Her mother had brought out the silver candelabra and utensils that she’d gotten when her grandmother passed, and the silver bucket that chilled the wine or champagne. Sabrina knew as soon as she saw the scene that something was wrong. The dishes were spotlessly clean, the candles in the candelabra hadn’t ever been lit, and the unopened bottle of champagne that she knew cost her mother at least a day’s salary was floating in the water from the melted ice. With a tickle in her belly, she went into the kitchen. There was a big pot on the stove and when Sabrina went over and looked into it, she saw four whole crabs. They’d been boiled, but obviously not cracked open and eaten. She opened the oven door, at that point not surprised to see the pan seared steaks and lobster tails wilting inside. The “good” bread bowl was filled with her mother’s homemade rolls that it took her two days to make. She opened the refrigerator. It was stocked with beer like it always was when Coyote was coming, but they looked untouched…and on the bottom shelf was the cake her mother had been so lovingly making when she left the night before…It said “Happy New Year” in the center of it and it was in the shape of a heart.