by Kline, Sandy
“Yeah, well my pansy-colored red Ferrari kicks ass on your little black pile of plastic and rubber so are you going to move it out of the way on your own or do I get to do it for you?”
This time the man punctuates each word with a jab of his forefinger on Marc’s chest. Even though the guy is about five inches taller than Marc, he isn’t intimidated in the least. Instead Marc reaches into his back pocket and brings out a pair of handcuffs.
“So are you going to put these on yourself or do I get to do it for you?”
It’s comical how the man’s mouth drops open and his eyes bug out. He immediately backs off.
“I’m so sorry officer; it’s been a rough day. Please don’t arrest me. I’ll be happy to just move my car right away. I am so sorry sir.”
I take Marc’s arm and move to pull him back to our car. “Let him have the spot.” I advise. “There’s one over there. Let’s just park there, I’m starving.”
He looks down at me. “You’re kidding right? He just assaulted a Sheriff’s Deputy.”
“He poked you with his finger.” I reply.
“And that’s assault.” He protests.
“Really?” I ask. “Are you that insecure that you have to arrest someone who pokes you?”
“It’s not about me at all.” He says. “His lack of respect and assumption that he can just put his hands on an authority figure is very disturbing. It draws into question just how far would he go in an argument with your average citizen if he’s this willing to lay hands on the police.”
“I swear to god, I would never cause a fight.” The driver of the Ferrari pleads. “Please sir, let me just take my date home and be done with this evening.”
“Of course you can go.” I say as I pull Marc back towards his Chevy. “No one needs to go to jail tonight, right Marc?”
For a minute it looks like he’s going to arrest the guy anyway, but finally his face softens and he backs off his stance.
“You’re a lucky man.” He advises the Ferrari guy. “My date’s hungry and I want to feed her, otherwise you’d be sitting on your ass waiting for a patrol car to come take you to jail.”
“Thank you so much officer. I swear to god I would never try to harm a police officer.”
“Well I’m not so sure about that. You should be thanking my girl here and not me. She’s the reason you get to go home tonight.”
Then the man proceeds to thank me profusely to a point I am now embarrassed. Without another word I walk around and get into Marc’s car. I breathe a giant sigh of release when he finally gets in the car and heads over to the empty spot just down the row.
When we get out and start walking to the front door I can tell Marc is still upset so I pull on his arm. He stops and I step up to him and plant my lips on his. Instantly my heart begins to thump in my chest. His masculine smell and his breath mixing in with mine is enough to get my motor purring. At first he’s super stiff, then his body relaxes and he’s kissing back. After a minute he retreats and smiles warmly.
“Thank you for that.” He says to me. “I really needed it.”
Relieved, I smile and walk into the restaurant. I guess this is going to be a nice night after all. Over the next forty-five minutes we enjoy each other’s company immensely. At first I didn’t get his sense of humor. In fact when we first began going out I wondered if he even had one. But eventually I figured him out. He just has this really dry, understated sense of humor and if you’re not paying attention you completely miss it.
It’s just about ten when my night begins to unravel. He reaches into his jacket looking for something; probably his cell phone. After a minute of searching he comes up empty handed. He feigns frustration.
“I really need to call the office. Could I use your phone for a second?” He asks me. “It seems I have left mine at home.”
“Sure,” I reply, as I make a big show of looking for it, then coming up empty handed as well. “Hey I’m sure the wait staff would be happy to let a Sheriff use their phone.”
Before he can protest I flag down a waiter. “I’m sorry to bother you.” I begin. “My date here is with the Sheriff’s Office and needs to contact them but both of us have left our cell phones at home.”
Rather than lead Marc over to the bar where there’s a phone he pulls his personal phone from his apron pocket and hands it over to the surprised Sheriff. Marc accepts the offered phone and excuses himself. I watch as he walks out the door and makes his call. He’s only gone for maybe two minutes before he returns and hands over the phone.
“Is everything alright?” I ask.
“Oh sure. I just needed to make sure I don’t have an early court appearance tomorrow.”
“Do you?”
“First one is at 11:40 so we’re golden.”
Ten minutes later Marc excuses himself to use the bathroom and our waiter approaches our table.
“Excuse me miss, I couldn’t help but notice, your…friend has his phone on him.”
“Really?”
“Yes ma’am.”
Damn, that means that Marc really is trying to get my phone and the video on it.
Suddenly I get a brainstorm and I quickly tell our waiter to wait two minutes then dial Marc’s number then I thank him and he excuses himself just before Marc returns from the restroom. He sits back down and takes a bite of food. He’s in the middle of chewing when surprise surprise, his own phone starts ringing. At first he is so shocked it’s comical. Then his look of surprise turns into embarrassment, then anger and I get the idea that he knows I just set him up. Instead of getting mad though he just swallows his anger and calls over our waiter for the desert menu. At first I think he’s just using this opportunity to grill the waiter but he behaves himself and just asks for the menu.
“I can’t believe I didn’t find my phone when I searched for it.” He finally mutters while he chooses his desert.
“It’s alright.” I reply. “I’ve done the same thing.”
The rest of the evening is pretty quiet with occasional attempts at conversation. He knows I know he’s up to something but he just can’t bring himself to voice his thoughts. I have an idea that before the night is over he’s going to figure out a way to look at my phone and find the video. I have to be on my A-game when he drops me off at my house. That’s when he’ll come up with a way to get his hands on my phone. I just better not invite him in.
It’s nearing midnight when we finally reach my house. We spend a few minutes kissing and even though it’s nice, my heart’s not in it and I don’t think his is either. He walks me to my door because I can’t think of a reason to deny him. Once at the door he makes his move; and it’s not for my bra strap either.
“Hey Kim, I hate to ask, but can I use your bathroom? My bladder’s so full I’m seeing yellow.”
And he strikes! No way can I refuse this without coming across as a dick.
“Of course.” I reply with an award winning smile.
The question here is…how is he going to get his hands on my phone? Will he be sneaky and try to get it without my knowledge or will he figure out a way to ask to use it? I can’t think of a single reason he would have to ask to see my phone so I have to guess he’s going to search for it when he’s supposed to be using my bathroom. This is all very confusing for me. I like him because he’s a cop and I have tremendous respect for what he does and the risks he takes daily but I hate it when he plays cop with me. It really does piss me off.
He walks down my hall to the end where the guest bath is. On the way he has to pass my bedroom which is out of sight from the living room. So I sit here nervously waiting for him to finish playing cop and wondering if the end of this evening will end up with me in metal bracelets. When he does come back I try to read his face but he’s got his cop’s poker face on right now so I have no idea how this is going to play out.
“Would you like to stay and have a drink?” I ask even though that’s about the last thing I want right now.
“I really
wish I could but I have an early court date tomorrow and I really need to prepare.”
Oh my god, he just lied to me. He told me in the restaurant that he didn’t have court until eleven and now suddenly after using my bathroom he has an early day in court? We kiss at the door but my heart is just not in it. I have this pervasive feeling that our little relationship is fizzling out and I don’t know what to do about it. Communication has never been a strong suit and that’s probably why I’m 28 and do not have a serious relationship. What Marc and I have is about the most serious relationship I have been in since I was in high school and even though I haven’t been with him very long I feel like our best days are already behind us. He may not know it yet but his days with me are sadly numbered. With this whole phone thing he seriously crossed the line with me and I don’t know how to tell him that without just getting crazy on his ass.
After he drives off I go into my bedroom and check to see if my phone is still where I left it, and it is. Looks like he didn’t even touch it, but I can’t be sure. Oh well, I can’t do anything about it now so I may as well just crash.
The Good…
Sunday night finds me at The Golden Penny - a nice, semi-upscale bar and eatery on the other end of town. The plan was for Molly to meet me here for dinner and drinks. The problem is, she called in and cancelled on account of a bad head cold so that leaves me by my lonesome at the bar getting buzzed. In fact I’m so intent on getting my buzz on that I don’t hear the much louder buzz of motorcycles approaching from Main Street. I know that it’s a biker type or types that just walked in the door by the complete absence of noise in the crowded joint. I’m really not interested in the whole biker element so I don’t even bother to look up when an obvious biker takes a stool near mine.
“Give her another of what she’s having.” A voice says to the bartender. “She looks like she needs it.”
Now that’s enough to take offense on. I swivel around to give Mr. Nosey an ear full when I get an eye full. Sitting on the stool next to me is none other than Seth of the Soul Eaters MC. Why do I keep running into the guy? Not that I’m complaining…not tonight at any rate. I had Mr. Right last night and he pretty much died on the vine so I’m open to Mr. Wrong tonight.
I take the drink offered, take a long drink, wipe my mouth and thank him.
“You’re very welcome.” He replies.
The way he talks is so strange. Looking at him in his outlaw biker garb and you’d expect every other word out of his mouth to be fuck or shit or something like that. Instead he sounds like he’s had a proper upbringing. I wonder what went wrong.
“I’m not alone.” I say to him.
“You aren’t now.” He says to me. “What happened, your date stand you up?”
“My best friend did.” I reply.
“Some friend.” He says to me.
“Don’t be judgmental.” I reply.
“Didn’t anyone teach you how to talk to bikers?” He asks.
“Sorry, everything I know I was taught in kindergarten.” I reply using an old saying that he’s probably never heard of.
“Well if they taught you manners I’d love to buy you dinner.” He says.
I down my drink. “Lead the way.”
I’m not sure what to expect from having dinner with an outlaw biker but I’m pretty damn sure it won’t be boring.
“So what’ll it be?” He asks after we’ve had some time looking at the menus.
“I’ll take the kids happy meal.” I reply with a smile.
He laughs. An outlaw biker actually laughs at my lame attempt at humor. This is refreshing.
We manage to banter back and forth for the next fifteen minutes until the waiter comes. I order a pasta dish with a name I can’t pronounce and he orders a giant steak with baked potatoes. By the time we get our food I’m ready to start gnawing on the table cloth. I am used to conversation while eating but the way Seth attacks his steak I know interrupting him would be akin to treason. I decide to follow his example and I really enjoy my dish as well. By the time we’re done my belly’s full and my head is spinning along pleasantly. I get finished before he does so I use the time to study him. He appears to approach everything in life much like the steak; with great intensity and focus. I would truly hate to get on his bad side which is exactly why we shouldn’t go any further than this tonight. I always end up on men’s bad sides sooner or later. But before he adds me to his list of people he’d like to rub out I need some information about my brother.
“So about the other night...” I begin.
“What other night?”
“The one where you awarded my brother membership into your club for killing someone; that night.”
“You really think that’s all you have to do to become a Soul Eater?”
“That’s not enough?” I ask incredulously.
“That’s not even a requirement!”
“Then why’d you give him the vest after he killed the guy?”
“Iron Skull was a loyal and honorable prospect for nearly two years before the fight. He was awarded membership because of his years of loyalty and it had nothing to do with the fight. We were set to patch him in and decided to do it the night of the fight if he won as an extra reward basically. But I refuse to feel bad about some guy who steps in the ring and gets paid to pummel someone. He knew the risks and was happy to take the money for the last twenty-six fights that he did win. He was a capable competitor and it’s too bad he lost his life doing what he loved. But, you play in the kitchen long enough and you’re bound to get burned.”
Time to turn the heat up on mister nice outlaw guy.
“You seem to have a bit of empathy for the guy and I don’t get it.”
“What don’t you get?”
“You’re a gun runner and drug dealer which means you don’t care one bit for the lives of the young men and women you destroy.”
“I’m not sure where you’re getting your information but if that was the case do you really think your brother would have spent two years of his life trying to become a member?”
“I have no idea. Obviously I don’t know my brother anymore. The Caleb I grew up with would not have dreamed of getting involved with anyone who was into drugs so something certainly has changed. How’d you do it?”
“How’d I do what?”
“How did you get my brother to compromise all his beliefs and principles and join an outlaw organization? What could you possibly have to offer that his family doesn’t?”
“If we’re being honest here…I didn’t even know he had a family.”
“Everyone has a family Seth.”
“If that were the case we wouldn’t be the largest and most powerful club in the state of California. Men come to us for family. We take care of our own. We give them what they weren’t getting from their families. We give them honor, loyalty, a sense of belonging, a place to go to when everyone else is against you. We give them a sense of purpose so they’re no longer spinning their wheels trying to find a reason for existence in the world. You can’t put a price on those things Kim. Once you’re a brother you suddenly have a host of brothers who would line up to die for you if needed. If these men were getting that from their families they wouldn’t be flocking to us for it.”
I open my mouth to say something but I am speechless. I rack my brain trying to disprove what he’s saying but I can’t. As he continues to talk it forces me to think of my own family’s shortcomings. My father spent eight years in prison so he was gone from the time I was eight and didn’t come back until I was sixteen. My brother was three years younger than me and our father’s absence affected him the most I think. When our mother ran off with a cop I think my brother had no choice but to go with mom because he was so young when dad went away he felt like he really didn’t know him anymore when he got back. Dad had changed too. Before prison he was this lighthearted carefree spirit but prison changed all that. The man who came back to us was quick tempered, always on edge, and just co
uldn’t really be there for us anymore. The father I knew until he died fairly young was so steeped in anger and resentment that there was little room for anything else. It didn’t help that his wife, my mother, left him for a cop and in his eyes stole my brother from him. They used to be very close and when Caleb left to go with my mom I don’t think he ever got over that. I can feel my own coals of anger being stirred with memories of the past and I really need to chase down my brother and…and I don’t know what. We need to talk. Maybe he doesn’t even know that his father loved him. Knowing my mother, I’m sure she probably filled his head with all kinds of lies about my father. Those lies of course were backed up by his new perfect police step-dad Aaron. Part of me thinks I let my brother go too easily. Maybe I should have joined with my dad and tried to convince Caleb to stay with me and dad, but I could also tell that he was afraid of dad too. Bottom line is, my dad got screwed by the Watsonville police department and the new DA who wanted to make an example out of him. She took a hard line against those who assaulted police officers; such a hard line that even though my dad didn’t even come close to hurting the officer and really didn’t even try, she still threw the book at him so to speak.
I decide to share all this with Seth. I really don’t know why I do, but I just open my mouth and it comes spilling out. I really need to think twice before I start drinking. It always ends up with me sticking my proverbial foot in my mouth.
“So I guess it’s safe to say you hate the cops then…” Seth surmises.
“Well here’s the weird thing. I actually have been dating one for like five months and it’s gotten sorta serious.”
Talk about putting my foot in my mouth! That last bit of information I probably should have kept to myself. His face suddenly darkens and I can see anger flash in his eyes for just an instant then it passes and is replaced by his normal poker face.
“I don’t get it.” He finally says. “Your dad got hard time for bogus reasons, the cops and the DA fucked him and your mother ran off with one and you still date one? Are you like a saint? Or just dumb?”