Coyote Lee

by Jessie Cooke

  “Hi, Coyote. Yeah, everything is good.” The sound of her voice caused the butterflies in his stomach to take flight. He didn’t feel like an old man when he was with Talia, but he felt like he’d aged ten years since he saw her last. “How are you?”

  He thought about what the doctor said. Then he said, “Never better. What’s up?”

  “Sabrina graduates high school in two weeks. She’s the salutatorian of her class…”

  “I’m sorry, what’s that?” He felt stupid asking, but he had no idea what that meant.

  “It means she is graduating second in her class.”

  “Oh, well, that’s good but the administration over there must be stupid.”

  She laughed nervously and said, “Why’s that?”

  “Because that girl should be number one.”

  She laughed again. “I think you might be biased. Anyway, we’d like you to come, if you can…and if you want to.”

  “We? Sabrina wants me there?”

  “We’ve missed you. Yes, she would like you to be there.” Something in her voice told him that she was lying. He doubted that Sabrina knew she was calling him. But…if Sabrina was planning on taking off for college, this might be his last chance to see her until who knew when? He also wanted to see Talia, badly.

  “Okay. Text me the when and where and I’ll be there.”

  “Promise?”

  “Yeah, I promise.” He ended the call, sad to let her go, but excited to see her in two weeks. The time was going to drag, but at least for a while he’d have something to look forward to.

  Wolf whistled when his father opened the door. Coyote was hoping he could sneak out without running into anyone and having to explain where he was going. He had put on a white button-down shirt and a brand-new pair of jeans and boots. He had his tie, in case he needed it, but he wasn’t putting that son of a bitch on until he had to. “Where are you going, to the prom?”

  Coyote chuckled. “Something like that. What’s up?”

  “Just swung by to see if you wanted to go into town and get something to eat with me…but I see you already have plans.”

  “Yeah, I got someplace I have to be.” Coyote wondered, not for the first or the hundredth time, if he should tell Wolf about Sabrina and Talia. What if something happened to him? Shouldn’t someone know about them at least?

  “I haven’t seen you so dressed up since Mom’s funeral.” The mention of Colleen suddenly put the thoughts to rest of telling his son about his secret daughter. Wolf and Coyote had a tenuous relationship, at best. He was always his mama’s boy and he tolerated his old man. If he knew that Coyote had cheated on his mother…Coyote just didn’t know if he’d ever forgive him.

  “A friend’s kid is graduating high school.”

  “Oh.” He could tell that Wolf wanted to ask what friend. Coyote didn’t normally fraternize with anyone outside of the club, at least to his son’s knowledge. But Wolf didn’t ask. Instead he said, “Well, I should get out of your way so you’re not late.”

  “How about breakfast?” Coyote asked. He felt bad telling Wolf no about dinner. He didn’t ask often. They rarely did anything together, just the two of them.

  Wolf smiled. “Sure, breakfast sounds good. I have that meeting tomorrow with that Nomad from Texas. Zack Leoni.” Coyote groaned. He wasn’t sure about that kid. He’d gotten a call from an old friend in the Headhunters club in Texas. He hadn’t thought about that club or spoken to any of them for years. The friend was Randall Covey and he was the VP of the club. The president was an asshole they called Slinger. It seemed that Slinger had a son who had no use for his father. Randall said the boy was a little flighty, but loyal as hell, and he thought maybe Coyote could use him for some of his longer runs, or if nothing else, a liaison between clubs when they needed one. Coyote agreed to meet with him, out of respect for Randall…but if the kid was anything like his old man, the answer to his associating with them would be a resounding no. He’d asked Wolf to meet with him because he wasn’t sure he could be unbiased thanks to how strongly he disliked the kid’s old man. Wolf was a good judge of character, so Coyote would wait and see what he thought.

  “Alright, we’ll do it early. We need to talk about George anyway.” George was an old white gangster that Coyote had recently started doing business with. The guy had his fingers in everything and recently he’d been talking about buying an old gym. He wanted the club to invest in it with him. Coyote, waxing somewhat nostalgic for the old days when he was a fighter, was considering it. Manson had voiced his concerns about it, though, and when they brought it up at the executive meeting, the vote was one short of being in Coyote’s favor. He was trying to get his son on board, although that was a backhanded way of doing things. Wolf indulged him most of the time, but every so often, he stuck to his guns. There was something about George that Wolf didn’t like, so Coyote wanted to sit down and talk it over with him.

  “Okay,” Wolf told him. “Have fun at your graduation.” He said it like he didn’t really believe Coyote had a graduation to go to but that was okay. Coyote didn’t mind if the kid thought he was getting some. Hell, he wished that he was.

  Once Wolf left, Coyote took out the envelope that he’d put in the safe the night before and slid it into his pocket. Before he left the house, he put on his vest. He might not wear it into the graduation, but he never left home without it. Something triggered a memory as he walked out the door with it. He thought about the first time he’d seen his own name on his kutte in Boston. It was a leather kutte and he’d been so proud to wear it. When he got to California, while he was still reeling from Doc’s sending him away, he had a new vest made along with the new patch that said “Westside Skulls.” He told the woman to make it out of denim, and their club had worn denim ever since. He knew that was a silly thing to be proud of…that they were the only ones that stood out in their denim kuttes…but as he got older he realized it was the little things that really mattered.

  He rode his Harley the forty-five minutes from his house to the high school Sabrina went to in Madera. When he got there, he sent a text to Talia that said, “I’m here.”

  Seconds later he got one back that said, “Yay.”

  That one word made his day, or so he thought. When she met him at the gate in her white and blue flowered dress with her long hair curled around her shoulders and a smile that hadn’t changed in eighteen years…his day was really made. She was beautiful, and she might not have been his soulmate like Colleen was, but he loved her. “I’m so glad you made it.”

  “Told you I would,” he said. “Now be honest, does she know I’m here?”

  Talia looked guilty and shook her head. “No. I’m sorry. But I think she’ll be really happy to see you.”

  Coyote chuckled and shook his head. “Let’s hope so.” He followed Talia to a seat in the bleachers and for the next two hours he watched, fascinated as people gave speeches and got awards. He’d never been to a graduation. The night Wolf graduated high school, he’d been in LA, meeting with one of the cartel members they worked for. He hadn’t thought it was a big deal at the time, but lately he’d been overly sentimental for some reason and he found himself feeling bad about it as he watched Sabrina walk across the stage and accept her diploma and her gold medallion. Her speech was brilliant. She was beautiful and her smile was radiant. It was only afterwards, when he and Talia found her on the football field where everyone was waiting for their families, that her smile slipped.

  “Hey,” she said to him. He took the fact that she didn’t say “What are you doing here?” as a good sign.

  “Hey. Congratulations.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Um…here, this is for you.” He handed her the envelope, suddenly embarrassed that he hadn’t gotten her flowers or balloons like everyone else seemed to have. She frowned when she took it and the frown grew deeper when she looked inside.

  “I don’t want this.”

  “It’s for school, or whatever.”

&nb
sp; She was shaking her head. “No. I have a scholarship for school.”

  “You going to Harvard?”

  She looked at her mother and then back at him. “No. Fresno State. I got a full-ride scholarship and I’m going to live at home with Mom. I don’t need this.”

  “Buy a car or something,” he said. There was a lot of money in the envelope. He didn’t know what was customary for a graduation.

  She shoved it back at him and said, “No!” Then lowering her voice she said, “I don’t want money that came from…well, we both know where it comes from, don’t we? Take it back or I’ll leave it right here on the football field.”

  “Sabrina, he’s trying to make a nice gesture.”

  “We’ve done fine without his ‘nice gestures’ all this time, Mom. We don’t need it.” Coyote’s hand was shaking as he took back the envelope. He needed a drink. He looked at Talia. Her eyes were sad.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “Don’t apologize to him for me,” Sabrina said. “He had hundreds of chances to be a father…and still, all he can come up with is handing me money.”

  Coyote swallowed the lump in his throat and said, “If you ever need anything, Sabrina, you know where to find me.” He wished she would let him hug her, but he was sure it would be a mistake to try. Instead, he leaned over and kissed Talia on the cheek and said, “You too.” Talia nodded. Her eyes were filled with tears. He hated that he’d ruined the evening for them. He left them there, tucking the money into his jeans as he headed out to the parking lot. He was almost to his bike when he heard Talia calling his name. He turned back toward her and waited until she caught up with him.

  “I’m so sorry. I never should have invited you without talking to her first. I’m sorry she’s so angry with you.”

  “It’s not her fault,” Coyote said. “I’m the grown-up. I should have been there for her a long time ago and maybe we wouldn’t be here right now.”

  “You tried, Coyote. Remember that, okay? Know always that I know, you tried. I was the one that kept you at bay because I was so worried about how it would affect her to grow up in an MC…or even how I would handle it. She was ten before you even knew about her. That was my fault.”

  “I reckon we both made some bad decisions along the way. I love her, Talia, and I’ll do anything for her, and you. I’m having breakfast with my son in the morning. I’m going to tell him about her.”

  “Why? I mean, why now?”

  “I was just thinking a lot lately about my mortality, I guess. What if something happened to me and there was no one who knew to tell you, or her? I’m going to have my treasurer set something up for her. I know she doesn’t want my money now, but maybe someday she’ll need it and I want it to be there for her. But I have to talk to my son first.”

  Talia put her arms around his neck and hugged him, tightly. He held onto her for a long time and when she pulled back at last, she had tears on her face. “I love you, Coyote.”

  He smiled. “I love you too. Maybe one of these days…”

  She smiled through her tears and said, “Yeah. Maybe.” Coyote got on his bike and he could still see her in his rear-view mirror, watching him, as he drove out of the lot. He felt lighter, just having a plan finally. He would have to suck up whatever anger Wolf had at him. He had let Sabrina down for eighteen years; it was way past time to do the right thing.

  Epilogue

  Wolf banged on the door for the third time. He was getting annoyed, thinking the old man must have gotten drunk the night before and forgot about their breakfast. His bike was there so Wolf knew he was home, and he was usually always up with the sun, even when he did tie one on the night before. Wolf finally reached up over the door and ran his hand along the top of it until he felt the extra key. He took it down and unlocked the door. The house was quiet, and hotter than hell. The temperature was already in the 80s outside. Coyote usually had the air blasting by now, bitching about the “fucking heat.” He likened Fresno to Hell at least once a day during the summer. “Dad?” Wolf’s voice echoed off the living room walls. He walked down the hallway toward Coyote’s bedroom. “Dad! Are you up?” There was still no answer. When he got to the bedroom, the door was closed. He knocked on it, hard. Coyote was a light sleeper and that should wake him. There was still no answer. “Damn it, old man!” Wolf turned the knob and pushed the door open. Coyote was on the bed, on top of the covers, fully dressed, with his back to him. “Shit. I guess breakfast is off? Thanks for the text.” Coyote still didn’t move and after watching him for a few seconds, Wolf began to get a bad feeling in his chest. He hadn’t seen his father take a breath in the thirty seconds or so that he’d been in the room. “Dad?” That time he said it with less annoyance and more worry. He forced himself to go closer to the bed, still watching the old man’s back as he approached. Nothing. Fuck. “Dad?” His voice came out high-pitched, like a little girl. His hand was shaking as he reached down and touched his father’s arm. Coyote’s arm was as cold as ice. “Oh, Jesus!” Wolf shook him, but his old man didn’t budge. “Dad! Fuck! Wake up! Wake the fuck up!” He was yelling at the top of his lungs, but he knew it was pointless. Coyote was dead. His old man, his father, the king of the Westside Skulls, was gone.

  Wolf slowly and gently turned Coyote over onto his back. His eyes were closed and he looked like he was asleep. He had his arms folded across his chest and he was clutching a pillow. It was Wolf’s mother’s pillow, one of the things Coyote wouldn’t let Trisha take out of the house after Colleen died. Wolf felt like he was choking on the lump in his throat as he sat down next to him. He put his hand on his old man’s cold face and almost thirty years of emotions washed over him at once. He had adored this man, revered him, feared him, loved him, hated him. He wanted to kill him more than once. He was embarrassed by him more times than he could count. He blamed him for everything that ever went wrong in his life…but in the end, he knew he had him to thank for everything that he was. He put his hand in between Coyote’s and the pillow he was holding and he thought about the way his old man used to look at his mother. Coyote was a lot of things, but the one most important thing that he’d taught his son was that true love did exist. He worshiped the ground that Wolf’s mother walked on. He changed his entire outlook on how he wanted his club ran. He did everything different…all for her. She was the light of his life, and at least she died knowing that. Wolf always knew that before he died, he wanted that. It was why he resisted getting into a relationship with Trisha for so long. He cared so much for her…but he didn’t love her the way Coyote did Colleen.

  Sobbing now, he laid his head down on his father’s chest. He could smell his mother’s perfume on the pillow and that made him cry even harder. He wasn’t sure what he believed as far as God and heaven and the afterlife, but he hoped that wherever they were, they were back together at last.

  It was hours later when Trisha found Wolf there, lying on the bed next to his father. He knew he should call someone, but as soon as he did, they would take Coyote away, and he hadn’t been ready for him to go. “Oh, Wolf!” Trisha went straight into his arms and held him. He had stopped crying a while ago, but while she held him, the tears returned. He didn’t even know how long they sat there like that, but eventually he let her go…and she took care of everything. She called 911 and notified the front gates. The ambulance came and the police…that pissed him off a little until Trisha told him she thought they did that for anyone that died at home. Ultimately the coroner came out and by that time, there was a crowd around the house. Wolf didn’t want to, but he knew it was up to him to tell them all what was going on before they saw their president being carried out of the house in a body bag. He walked outside while they were putting his father’s body on the gurney and as soon as the crowd of people saw him, a silence descended down on them.

  “Coyote is dead,” he said, unsure of how else to tell them.

  “How?” Manson was in the front of the crowd, and his crazy eyes looked even crazier when t
hey were on the verge of tears.

  Wolf shook his head. “I don’t know for sure. There were some medications next to his bed. The EMTs and the coroner said they were for chest pain and blood pressure. Trisha said he went to the doctor a few weeks ago. He didn’t tell me anything about that…but so far they’re saying it looks like a heart attack.” There were whispers, sobs, and gasps, but once again they fell silent, and Wolf knew before he even looked behind himself that his father was on his way out. He couldn’t stomach the thought of looking at him in that plastic bag, so he looked out at the men and women who, like Wolf, had a love/hate relationship with the man. They all watched his body being rolled toward the ambulance and Wolf saw the men who had skullcaps on slide them off their heads. A few of the guys were openly crying and the rest of them looked like they were in shock. Wolf knew the club was about to go through one hell of a transition, and as they loaded his father into the back of the coroner’s van he whispered, “Don’t worry, old man, I got this.”

  It had been three weeks, and it still felt surreal. Wolf sat on his knees in the grass, staring at the dark gray marker. One side held his mother’s name and an engraving of her beautiful face. Coyote had it made not long after her death. The other side had his name engraved on it and when Wolf would come in the past to visit his mother, he sometimes looked at the blank spot on the other side of the 1957 – and wondered what the other side would say someday. 2011 wasn’t what he’d been expecting. He always pictured Coyote as one of those really old bikers who had arthritis in his fingers and long, gray hair. He’d sit belly up to the bar all day and tell his old stories while club life went on around him. Wolf always wondered what kind of grandfather Coyote would make. He wasn’t a terrible father. He wasn’t abusive or mean, or even neglectful. He was just…awkward. That was the word Wolf had finally picked to define it.

  Coyote never talked to him about his own childhood, but his mother had told him how the old man grew up. Wolf couldn’t imagine living from one migrant camp to the next and not going to school or being around kids your own age. He really couldn’t imagine living with the idea that you had killed your own parents. He tried to picture Coyote at fifteen, alone and scared…on the streets. He was never able to. To Wolf, Coyote was always the big, strong biker…the club president, the boss. Sometimes he would talk about his underground fighting. He seemed proud of his skills as a fighter, and Wolf liked to see the fire in his eyes when he talked about it. Xander “Coyote” Lee was not a great man by any standards…but he had taught his son so many important things that he would be able to take with him going forward. Coyote’s life had been like an obstacle course with a new obstacle being thrown up at almost every turn. But his old man had found a way to go around, under, over, or through every one of them, and Wolf was proud of that.