by A. J. Downey
“Is that your way of giving me permission to call you?” he asked slyly.
I gave him a tight-lipped little smile and yanked his chain some.
“If you can find the number.”
He laughed then, outright, and it was a good sound, that ended in a not-so-good one when his chest rumbled with phlegm and he coughed.
“You should quit while you’re ahead with that smokin’, you’ll live longer,” I said simply, as he leaned back into the bowl so I could wet his hair.
“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “You sound like my wife.”
“Sounds like she was a smart lady,” I mused.
He chuckled again and said, “She was. She also put up with a fuckton of my shit that she didn’t have to.”
“Sounds like she was a devoted wife,” I said.
“She was that, my Tilly.”
I let him lapse into silence while I worked my fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp and lightly scratching it with my nails. He looked fairly serene while I worked, except for an ever-present tightness around his eyes. I couldn’t say precisely what it was from, but it was most definitely there.
I took my time and spoiled him a little, washing his hair twice and conditioning it a couple, too. when I finally had him sit up, he seemed a little more relaxed than when he’d come in. He looked a sight, going back to my chair with a towel turban on his head, but it didn’t detract from his virile masculinity one bit. It was hard for a man to pull that off, but he did it.
I barely trimmed him up, there really wasn’t that much of a need to after only a couple of weeks. I thought it was kind of sweet he came back so soon, the haircut obviously being just an excuse. He seemed a bit twitchy this time, fidgety and having a hard time sitting still. I rolled my lips together and bit them between my teeth in an attempt to suppress my smile. He coughed and cleared his throat and I glanced at him in the mirror. He was trying to keep himself from laughing, and it was adorable. Took me all the way back to feeling like a nervous teen all over again, which, wasn’t that funny at my age?
“So, you gonna answer my question?” he finally asked, breaking first, and I let my grin escape its prison.
“What question? I don’t remember any question,” I said playfully, and he chuckled again and bowed his head.
“You know, you’re right about one thing,” he said, but didn’t elaborate.
I rolled my eyes and asked, “What’s that?”
“You really can’t bullshit a bullshitter.”
I laughed myself and mock-slapped his big shoulder with my fingertips. I nodded finally and said, “Touché, and I would love to. I actually didn’t have any plans.”
“Well, all right, then,” he said, and let me finish him up. I dusted him off and dried the rest of his hair, using the blow-drier to get as much of the hair slivers off of him as I could. Satisfied I’d done my job right, I whisked off the hairdresser’s cape and turned him loose. He stood and leaned forward, getting a closer look in the mirror, and smiled.
“You done me good, woman.”
“As if there was any doubt!” I rolled my eyes again, and he chuckled again, and I liked the easy banter we managed. It was light and refreshing. I guess I hadn’t realized how lonely I’d let myself get. Not that I was really alone, what with my girls in-and-out all of the time. But I couldn’t deny, something was missing for me. A companionship, almost. Although I didn’t think half the town, or even the ladies at my church, would be okay with me taking up with a Sacred Heart for company.
Fuck them anyhow I thought and went about sweeping up, while he donned his jacket with the colorfully-patched leather vest over it.
He peeled off some bills and held them out. I waved him off and he scowled.
“Take it, you didn’t charge me the first time and I felt bad enough about it.”
“It’s too much!” I cried, looking at the wad of bills.
“Bullshit, I tip what I want. Now take it.”
I took it; his tone brooked no argument, and besides, I needed the money. There weren’t no denying that.
“Thank you,” I murmured, and put it away in the cash drawer.
“How long y’think it’ll take you to close this place up?” he asked.
“Twenty minutes or so,” I hazarded.
“Okay, I think I’ll have me a smoke. I’ll meet y’ out front.”
“All right,” I drawled. I went to work, getting everything to its place and counting the day’s earnings. I was shorter than what I’d like for a day’s work, but it was all right this time; I had a full day’s work ahead of me tomorrow, all the little old ladies getting their hair did for church on Sunday. Saturday was my best day, typically, and I hadn’t had one off in years. Usually, Fridays were pretty busy, too, but today the bus from the retirement home had broke down and so some of my usual customers hadn’t come in.
I closed up shop, put the night’s deposit in my purse and took down my denim jacket from the coat-tree by the door. I switched out the lights, set the alarm, and went out front of the shop, sticking the key in the lock and turning it.
My salon was sort of out-of-the-way, around a mile-and-a-half outside of town. The building was an old depot with a filling station attached, though the filling station was long gone. It was somewhat in disrepair, but in that country-chic kind of a way. It was around halfway between town and my house so it worked for me and it worked for the owner of the building, too. I couldn’t complain; the rent was cheap. I shared the building with a country gift store and café, and the overhang where the old service station used to be was a year-round outdoor farm stand that only closed for a few weeks during the deepest winter.
Dragon watched me, leaning against the saddle of his motorcycle, smoke curling from a nearly-spent cigarette between his index and middle finger. He took a final drag off it, pinched it between his finger and thumb, and ground it back and forth, the coal and tobacco falling in among the gravel of the front lot. He dragged a boot across the smoking ember and was nice enough to put the spent butt in his pocket rather than dirtying up my parking lot with it.
“Your chariot awaits,” he said, and held out a helmet to me.
“Oh, I thought I would just follow you…” I said, and he flashed that mischievous grin at me.
“Ain’t scared, are yah?” he asked and I felt myself stand a little taller.
“Now if I ain’t scared of the likes of you, what makes you think I’m scared of a little ol’ motorcycle?” I demanded.
He chuckled and raised the helmet just a little higher.
I took it and put my purse strap across my chest. He smiled at me a little bigger and reached out to work the unfamiliar strap under my chin.
“Where’s yours?” I asked and he grinned.
“Honestly, I didn’t expect you to say yes.”
I laughed and he put a black bandana on over his head and swung a leg over the front of his ride saying, “Get on, and hold on, sweetheart. I’m gonna take this slow.”
“I been on one before.”
“Oh, yeah? How long has it been?”
“Oh, hell, going on thirty-some-odd years. I must have been a teenager.”
“Well, wouldn’t that be more like forty-some-odd years, then?”
“Oh, you!” I could have killed him. He laughed and fired it up. “You’re buying just for that,” I declared, getting on behind him.
“I do believe I asked you for drinks. Call me old-fashioned, but that means I was buyin’ anyways. Now, what did I tell you about holding on?”
I put my arms around his waist and bit my lips together when I felt a bit of a rush of enjoyment. I mean, he was a lot harder than I’d anticipated around the middle, which was a pleasant surprise.
Oh, get a grip, Marcie! This isn’t a date-date. Who the hell knows what this is, but it surely isn’t that.
“Okay, here we go!” he called and pulled out onto the two-lane highway, pointing us in the direction of the center of town. I held on, but he took it
easy on me, something I was secretly grateful for. Pretty quickly, I realized that it would actually be nice to go a little faster, but of course, me being me, I had to be ornery about it.
“You ride like a grandma all of the time?” I yelled over the wind, and the vibration of his laugh tickled me pink all over again.
“Be careful what you wish for, sweetheart!” he yelled back, and twisted the throttle. The bike shot forward, the pavement blurring into a smooth, uniform gray beneath us, and I laughed, delighted.
Of course, that was short-lived because a patrol car pulled out behind us from one of the country sideroads, the blue lights on top lighting up, the siren giving an ominous clipped-off wail. Dragon eased off the gas and slowed, ordering me to hold on tight with a grunt as he pulled off onto the gravel shoulder.
“Ah, damnit,” he muttered and I raised an eyebrow. I figured he was used to getting pulled over, and a quick check of the side mirror confirmed that I knew the deputy coming up on us.
Before he had a chance to open his mouth, I called out to him, “Now, Jimmy Hudgins, what in the world are you stopping us for? I know it weren’t speeding; I saw how fast we were going.”
“Mama Marcie?” Jimmy cried, astonished.
“Close your mouth, boy. Golly! Y’act like y’never seen me before, when you were just at my table not two nights ago.”
“Yes ma’am, I know, sorry about having to stop you…” he faltered, frowning a bit before putting on his stern deputy’s face, which just looked comical to me. “Sir, I’m going to need to see your license and registration, please.”
“What for?” I demanded.
“Well, ma’am –”
I stopped him cold.
“Boy, don’t you ‘Ma’am’ me!”
“Yes, Mama,” he said, chagrined, then cleared his throat, “I’m stoppin’ you on account of…” he faltered a moment, his eyes bouncing between me and the colorful patch on Dragon’s back, then back to me, like he was tryin’ to say somethin’ without sayin’ it, and boy, let me tell you, I was havin’ none of it.
“Go on!” I barked.
“Well, Kentucky has helmet laws, don’tcha know! It’s not safe for your… er… your…”
“Friend.” I supplied.
“Yer friend to be ridin’ around without one.”
“Boy, he is a grown-ass man! And the reason he don’t have a helmet on is because it’s on my head. Shouldn’t you be out catching real criminals instead of pushing choices on a feller that is old enough and wise enough to make decisions for his self?”
“Mama Marcie, I’m just doin’ my job, now. Don’t you interfere, I understand he is your…”
“Friend,” I supplied for him again.
“Yes, friend, but the law’s the law and he must obey it.”
“Here you go, officer,” Dragon said, a mite too politely, and he handed over his papers to Jimmy, who looked flustered as could be.
“Right, I’ll be right back…”
He went back to his car before I could yell at him again and Dragon’s shoulders hitched in silent laughter.
“Yer a real Steel Magnolia, ain’tcha?” he asked.
“Well my hair just had to match my personality, don’t you know not to cross a ginger?” I asked.
“Yes, ma’am, known quite a few gingers in my time.”
“Well, that should have been your first clue,” I declared.
“I’m not sayin’ nothin’,” he said.
I grinned.
“Well, look at you! Smarter than you look, ain’tcha?”
He broke down and couldn’t stop laughing after that, and I grinned, a little smug and more than a little self-satisfied. I liked bringing people joy, and despite my own unhappiness, I was happy to relieve his. It somehow lessened some of my own. I glanced back over my shoulder at Jimmy, who I loved like a son I didn’t have, and felt a little bit guilty about even being unhappy.
I had two beautiful daughters, and even though I had divorced him for hurting me as deeply as he did, my ex-husband was around and would help me at the drop of a hat if I needed it. My son-in-law was great, too and their friends, like Jimmy, had been adopted like they were my very own kids.
I had so much to be happy about, I was so blessed, yet I still felt empty sometimes; lonesome. Because I didn’t have anybody to really share it with… and because I’d taken that man’s life, even by accident, and took the person that he was from the people that loved him most. I felt another stab of guilt for a very different reason.
Just what the hell was I playing at, being on the back of this bike, with this man, one of the man I’d killed’s friends?
I was just about to tell Dragon I’d made a mistake accepting his offer to go for a drink. I was just about to get off the bike and give him back his helmet and have Jimmy give me a ride back to my salon and my car parked out back, but suddenly there was a crunch of gravel behind me and Jimmy was back handing Dragon his papers.
“Now, I shouldn’t let you off with just a warning, Mr. Trujillo – “
I giggled at the way Jimmy butchered Dragon’s legal last name. He pronounced it ‘true-jill-oh.’
Dragon simply grunted, didn’t bother to correct him, and put his papers back in his wallet saying, “Thank you kindly, officer. My wallet certainly appreciates it.”
“If it weren’t for Mama Marcie, I’d be issuing a citation,” he said, and I knew he was only half-kidding; Jimmy was a good kid.
“See you for dinner on Sunday,” I told him, and he grinned at me, sheepish.
“Yes, Mama.”
He went back to his cruiser and got in, and Dragon started the motorcycle back up. Jimmy pulled past us with a wave and Dragon and I carried on, into town.
I smiled, proud of myself at managing some mischief, but in the back of my mind I had to worry a bit. I was pretty sure word would get back to my daughters, Devon and Dylan, at the drop of a hat.
5
Dragon…
Hoo-boy, she had a way about her. I was surprised at the fire she held inside. She hadn’t seemed the type when we’d met. I’d been back to visit my wife and the last time, I’d talked about the lady that done my hair, and the smell of roses had been so overpowering it’d been damn near dizzying. I had to think my wife approved, and that mattered to me. It mattered to me a whole lot.
Either that, or I was sliding nose-first into some kind of dementia or Alzheimer’s. Which, if that were the case and I ever got diagnosed proper with it, I’d be suck-startin’ my forty-five in short order. That there was the one thing I feared as a man: losing my fuckin’ mind for real. I wouldn’t do it. I’d rather my boy clean up my loss of brains outside my skull than any other way. That there was no way t’ live and I wouldn’t fuckin’ do it.
I pulled the bike up to the curb in front of The Spot on the town’s old main drag and looked down the block and across the street towards the neon lights in the window of Trig, Rev, and Disney’s tattoo shop. I was surprised to find I was nervous about the boys spottin’ me with Marcie and I had to ask m’self why that was. It bore lookin’ at, but not right then. Right then, I do believe I had promised the lady on the back of my bike a drink.
I shut off the engine and gave the handlebars a light twist as I heeled down the kickstand and leaned the sleek machine onto it. Marcie had gotten off and stood off to the side, up on the curb, where she worked at the unfamiliar strap under her chin with clumsy fingers, trying to sort out how to get the lid off her short, copper hair. I chuckled and went to her rescue.
“Thank you,” she said as I lifted the brain bucket off. Her fingertips immediately went to her hair, where she fussed with it until she felt it was presentable enough. I stuck out my arm, the gentlemanly thing to do, and guided her in through The Spot’s front door and into the gloomy interior of the bar. It was only slightly dimmer inside than out with sun setting, the late afternoon dragging on into evening on me.
“You hungry?” I asked her, and she said, “Y’know, I am.”
I smiled and gave a wave over in Mac’s direction. The bar’s owner gave me a chin-lift and I pointed out a booth. He nodded, and I headed that way.
“I take it you’re a regular,” Marcie said and I smiled.
“Naw, Mac and I just go way back,” I said.
“Well, that sounds like a story as good as any to start with,” she said as I held her hand and she slid into one side of the booth I’d picked. She lifted her hand from mine and raised her eyebrows expectantly while I did the math to make sure the statute of limitations was up on some of the things I’d done to help Mac out back in the day. Of course, there weren’t no statute of limitations when it came to murder, so I wouldn’t be talking none about that.
“You remember how I said that I’d always tell the truth when it came to anything between you and me?” I asked, sliding across the green vinyl bench seat, across from her.
“I surely do,” she said with a smile. She had lines around her mouth, deep brackets that made your eyes go to those shell pink lips of hers. She had a nice mouth, which was probably an odd thing to say about a woman but it didn’t make it any less true. I enjoyed her smile for a handful of seconds because my next words might potentially wipe the smile off her face.
“There’ll be times, like now, I’m gonna ask you if you really wanna hear the truth outta me about some things. I have a past I ain’t much proud of, but it’s where I came from and I can’t change it. All I can tell you about that is I am a changed man and that life? It ain’t what I’m about anymore. Still, I won’t hide what I done if I can help it.”
Her smile, as I predicted, faded. She leveled so-serious light blue eyes at me and asked, “You always such a downer, Mr. Dragon?” Her voice was only half serious, a sparkle of mirth remaining in her gaze as she considered me.
“I’d like to think I’m not, but truthfully? Probably, yeah.”