by S. W. Lauden
“You two know each other?”
“Sup, Greg?”
“Barrett.”
The two men locked eyes for a long moment. Barrett broke the silence first.
“Where’s your gun, tough guy?”
“Close enough if I need it. Drink?”
Barrett placed his order and Greg went to fetch it. Quincy was standing a few feet away at a tall table when he returned. He could see that she was preoccupied with her phone when he set the bottle down on the bar. Barrett pulled a giant wad of cash out of his pocket and started flipping through the twenties.
“What do I owe you?”
“I’ll get this round. You kids have fun.”
Barrett ignored him, throwing forty dollars onto the bar. One of the bills landed on its side, standing up. Barrett swelled with pride, as if he had done it on purpose.
“Make sure you tell Marco that I’m still looking for him.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.”
Barrett laughed and took his bottle over to where Quincy was standing. He put his hand on her hip and gave her a peck on the nape of the neck. He was watching Greg from the corner of his eye the whole time, like some giant demented parrot.
Quincy smiled but seemed to recoil a little at the public display of affection. Greg winked and went down the bar to take a few orders. He’d finally hit his stride by the time Randy came back to take over.
“Dude. There’s money all over the floor.”
“Wasn’t that there when I started?”
Greg considered sticking around just to make things uncomfortable for Barrett, but he couldn’t risk another fight. His body was still bruised and beaten from his joyride the night before.
He also wanted to check in with Junior, in case she needed him at the hospital. He was leaning on the El Camino texting with her a few minutes later. She told him that Eddie had been admitted. He was dehydrated and they needed to run some tests to check his arteries. Otherwise everything was fine. He got in the car and headed up the boulevard to the motel. Marco wouldn’t be surprised that Barrett was after him, but he would probably appreciate the heads up.
The windows in Marco’s room were dark when Greg pulled into the parking lot. He left the car running and climbed out to knock. Nobody answered, so he slipped a note under the door before heading home. He could hear Mrs. McMillan chatting with somebody in the garden as he opened the back gate.
“And there he is now.” Mrs. McMillan was seated at a small table, facing the gate. The second woman had her back to him. “You have a guest, Gregory.”
Quincy spun in her chair and batted her eyes theatrically. Mrs. McMillan quietly excused herself and slipped back inside her house. Greg opened his door and invited Quincy inside.
“This is a surprise. I thought you already had plans tonight.”
“Well, I did. Then I met this really hot bartender.”
There was only one chair in the small apartment and it was covered with a pile of Greg’s clothes. He went to clear it off for her. She plopped down on the bed instead.
“You can join me up here. Don’t be shy.”
She patted the mattress beside her. Greg walked over to accept her offer.
“I wasn’t expecting any company tonight. How did you get out of Barrett’s clutches?”
“He’s been asking me out for months and I finally gave in. Oh my god, you’re jealous!”
“What is there to be jealous of? Date whatever brain dead gorilla you want.”
“Well, I’m still flattered—even if you don’t return my phone calls. Maybe you’re the relationship type after all.”
She brought her hand up and placed it on his thigh. Her head was resting on his shoulder. He could smell the Chardonnay on her breath as she exhaled.
“I’m just not sure if I’m up for a late night with the funeral tomorrow.”
The words were jumbled as he forced them from his mouth. She slid her hand up his thigh and under his shirt.
“It doesn’t have to last all night. Why don’t you just relax? You look so tired these days.”
She said “tired,” but Greg heard “old.” He couldn’t disagree either way.
“I’m really sorry. I’m just not up for it tonight.”
He stood up and headed for the refrigerator. She fell back on the bed and focused her gaze on the whirling ceiling fan. He returned holding two glasses of water, handing one to her.
“First funeral?”
The question caught Greg off guard. He realized in that moment that there was still so much they didn’t know about each other. How old was she? Where did she grow up? Why did she move to The Bay Cities? The truth was that they had spent very little time talking since they first met a couple of months before.
Greg was getting out of the water with his board when she jogged by and tripped on his leash. And now here they were, chitchatting with each other on the night before they buried his best friend. He should be working on his speech, but he didn’t want her to go. Not yet.
“Definitely not my first.”
He was still in diapers when his mother died, so he didn’t remember anything about her service. His dad’s funeral was one of the best parties that Greg had ever been to. Just a room full of men telling stories until the sun came up.
And Tim.
Tim’s funeral felt like heart surgery without all the scalpels and saws. Like somebody reached straight down his throat and squished his heart in their fist. His chest still hurt whenever he thought about it, almost twenty years later.
“How about you? Been to many funerals?”
He was half fishing to figure out her age. No time like the present.
“I’ve seen my share of people go into the ground.”
“I’m really sorry to hear that.”
“They say it gets easier with time, but that really isn’t true. For a while it was all I could think about. Now I feel guilty if a day goes by and I haven’t thought about him.”
“I know what you mean. I lost my dad, too.”
“It was actually my brother.”
A silence fell between them. Greg tried to think of something to say, but felt powerless to change the course of the night. It didn’t take long before his thoughts turned back to the funeral and his unwritten speech. Ricky was gone and now everything was so complicated with Junior. A night with Quincy would be a relief, but would only keep him from what he had to do.
She tried to change the subject, but they both knew it was too late.
“Why don’t we talk about something a little more cheerful?”
“I think I should get my thoughts together for tomorrow.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Hey, everybody. Glad you could all be here today, despite the circumstances. I know Ricky would be pretty stoked that he managed to sell out his last gig.”
Greg was choosing his words carefully. It was impossible to speak above a whisper without dry heaving. The microphone squealed a little when somebody brought the volume up.
“Ricky’s mom asked me to say a few words today, but before I do that I want to say ‘thank you’ to her. Thank you for introducing me to Ricky on the first day of second grade. And thank you for making the most amazing snacks for all our Little League games. And thank you for asking me to come up here and speak today. I wouldn’t have done it on my own. I’ll never forget your son, and I promise that you will never be alone in missing him every single day.”
Greg welcomed the silent response. He knew that he was on the edge of a complete breakdown. He couldn’t even look up from his notes to make eye contact with any of the two hundred people in The Bay Cities Community Center.
“I wrote down a few thoughts and I’m gonna try to read those to you now. You’ll have to excuse me if I can’t make it all the way through.”
He swa
llowed and took a deep breath.
“I met Ricky in elementary school. I remember his mom pushing him toward me during lunch. His family had just moved to town and it was his first day. His eyes were bugging out of his head and he looked like he was ready to bolt. His mom made him introduce himself. I’m not sure why they chose me, but I remember that he had this awesome bowl cut and he was wearing a Puka shell necklace with a lightning bolt hanging from it. So I gave him half of my package of peanut butter crackers and that was pretty much it.”
“We started skateboarding together in sixth grade, after I got the cast off of my arm. I remember he had this plastic yellow board that his mom got him at a garage sale. He used to get gnarly speed wobbles whenever we tried to bomb a hill. I got tired of picking him up every time he wiped out so I stole one of my brother’s decks and made him a new board. After that we were unstoppable, going on adventures all around the neighborhood.
“We started getting in a little trouble around that time, too. There are some secrets from those days that we both promised we would take to our grave. I’m the only one who knows those secrets now.”
“Ricky was the first one to introduce me to a skateboard ramp. He knew some older kids that had built one in their backyard and he convinced them to let us ride it. I might have been better at bombing hills, but Ricky totally mastered that ramp in one summer. I’ve never seen anybody fly that high and land the board so often. I know that a lot of you here today know what I’m talking about because you were there, too. Skateboarding was the thing that he was most stoked about all during junior high. I really hope that’s what he’s doing right now.”
Greg reached for a bottle of water Junior had left on the podium for him. He could see her sitting a few rows back with tears streaming down her cheeks. Chris was right beside her with a blank expression on his face.
“It was all about music by the time we got into high school. I bet half the people here today played in one band or another with Ricky over the years. And the other half of you were probably in the crowd at a few of those gigs. It didn’t matter to him whether he was playing in a backyard or on tour at a random club in Germany; Ricky was always high energy when it came to playing his guitar for a crowd. I am proud and honored that I got to share the stage with him for his last show. And I know he’s already setting up the gear for our reunion on the other side.”
Greg stopped and studied the room for a few moments. All of these people were here today because they loved Ricky. Not because he was a good skateboarder or great punk rock guitarist. Those were things he did, not who he was. These people were here because Ricky was one of them, because he lived like them and he loved them—loved The Bay Cities—with all of his heart. Greg folded his notes and let them drop to the floor.
“I wrote down a few more things to say, but all these stories I’m telling you about Ricky, they’re just my memories. Just some of the experiences I shared with a really great guy over the many years that I was lucky enough to know him. I have some pretty ugly stories about Ricky too, but this didn’t seem like the place to share those kinds of memories. I just think it’s important to remember that above anything else, Ricky was probably one of the most human people I have ever known. He was terribly flawed in so many ways, but you always knew where you stood with Ricky. Come hell or high water, I can’t imagine I will ever meet another person who I could trust so completely. I’m not sure there is any better compliment than that when it comes to describing your best friend.”
Greg heard a loud shuffling of chairs and looked up to see Junior hurrying down the aisle. She had one hand over her face and was sobbing convulsively as Chris chased after her. Greg followed her silhouette as she flung open the front doors and got swallowed up by the sunlight. An usher closed the doors behind her and all eyes returned to the podium.
“I, uh, I’m sure you all have your own stories to share and I honestly hope I get to hear all of them at the reception. Because that’s what this is really supposed to be about, a celebration of Ricky’s life. He died too young and I’m pissed off about that. He would have been the best man at my wedding. We should have taught our kids how to surf together. And we could have grown old together.
“None of that is going to happen. But look around. Any one of us would be lucky to have this many people love us so much. We probably already do. We just don’t always realize it.”
›
The reception took place at Ricky’s mom’s house. It was a simple two-bedroom bungalow that skirted the line between North Bay and South Bay. The house itself was small, but the property it sat on was long and narrow. There was ample room for a local caterer to set up tables across the lawn that stretched from the back door to the back fence. Eddie had a couple of his guys from the L Bar set up a table to serve drinks. Junior made sure that there was a small PA system and a couple of amplifiers in case anybody wanted to play some of Ricky’s music.
Greg gave Ricky’s mom a big hug when he came through the door. Junior and Chris were already seated at a table with Eddie near the makeshift bar. Greg pulled up a chair next to Junior and put his arm around her shoulder.
“You all right?”
“Better now. That was a really beautiful, what you said up there. I’m sorry I made a scene in the middle of it.”
“You don’t have anything to be sorry about. Funerals suck.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Eddie lifted his glass and polished off a few fingers of Scotch in one gulp. “No parent should ever have to bury their child.”
“You should probably take it easy, Eddie. You just got out of the hospital this morning.”
“At my age it doesn’t matter what the tests say, the diagnosis is always the same. Did you know this is my third funeral this year? Three people I’ve known for forty years or more.”
“That’s terrible, Dad. I’m so sorry.”
“Happens to the best of us. One minute you’re singing and dancing with your friends, and the next minute—POOF!” He stood up and steadied himself on the edge of the table. “Anybody else need a drink?”
Junior held up her empty wine glass. Chris just stirred his soda with a straw. Greg waited for Eddie to get out of earshot before he turned to Junior.
“What’s gotten into him?”
“I’m not sure. Why don’t you tell me?”
“I’m sworn to secrecy.”
“Well, whatever that meeting was about yesterday it’s got him in a really weird mood. He asked me if I wanted to take over running the bar on the ride over here from the funeral.”
“And?”
“I can’t run a bar and the salon, and try to raise a kid on my own. Did he ask you too?”
“Let’s talk about this later. I’m going to grab a bite to eat and then there are a few people here that I want to talk to.”
Greg stood up and made his way to the buffet table. He took a plate from the top of the stack and grabbed some silverware from a basket. The caterer had prepared a selection of Ricky’s favorite dishes including fish tacos, bacon wrapped scallops, and mac and cheese. Greg took some of each and ate standing near the back fence so he could watch the crowd. He knew that Barrett wouldn’t dare show his face, but there were plenty of others who might have information to share. He spotted a couple of Ricky’s employees smoking cigarettes by the garage and decided to start there.
Even showered and dressed in clean clothes, the trio of beach rats gave off a distinctly blue-collar vibe. One had blonde hair that was slicked back, dark roots making a thick black line across the top of his forehead. The second one was wearing a short-sleeved plaid button-down with a black concert T-shirt poking up underneath. The third had a cigarette tucked comfortably behind one ear while holding a lit one between his fingers. All three were wearing pressed work pants and suede tennis shoes. They greeted him with a series of quick nods as he approached.
“Glad you guys could ma
ke it.”
“It’s a real bummer about Ricky. Pretty cool to hear those stories you told about him.”
“Thanks. That was probably one of the hardest things I ever had to do.”
“I would have freaked out, bro.”
“Did you see Ricky’s mom on the way in?”
“Yeah. That was pretty harsh. She started crying the minute she saw us.”
“Do you know her very well?”
“You kidding, she was like our team mom.” He gestured to his two friends who silently nodded in agreement. “We pretty much completely rebuilt this place last summer. She used to cook us dinner and shit every night.”
“I knew Ricky was doing some work around here. I just didn’t know how much.”
“Pretty much went all the way down to the studs. We even put in a new roof.”
“That must have been expensive. Where did Ricky get the money for that?”
The three men exchanged glances. Two of them took long, time-killing drags off of their cigarettes. Greg’s relaxed posture and grin made it clear that he would wait patiently for an answer.
“Come on, guys. There’s no way his mom could afford it.”
“Ricky kept a lot of the left over materials from other jobs. Mostly odds and ends. We made it work.”
“Last I checked he didn’t have a yard. Where was he keeping all this stuff?”
“He stashed most of it in the garage right here.” He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “And, well, pretty much anywhere he could get free storage. There’s probably still some stuff over at his rehearsal space. That was kind of his office.”
“Do you know if he had a computer at the rehearsal space?”
The foreman stood up straight and gave his pals a slap on the shoulder to get their attention. Their eyes were focused on a point just behind Greg. He spun around to see what was so interesting. Officer Bob was standing a few feet away with a drink in his hand. He was wearing khaki pants and a light blue dress shirt. The three guys from Ricky’s crew said their goodbyes and then quickly excused themselves to the buffet.