HOT as F*CK

by Scott Hildreth

  “Uh huh.”

  “His bike back in the shop?”

  “No. Club rules say he can’t ride his bike without his vest on, and he didn’t want to wear his vest. So, we walked.”

  He stared at me for a moment without speaking, and then swallowed hard. “He uhhm. He took it…you got him to take it off?”

  “I didn’t get him to do anything. He took it off on his own.”

  His gaze fell to the table. After a moment, he looked up. His eyes were wet and glassy. “I won’t call him a circus clown again.”

  “Thank you.”

  “God damned allergies,” he said. “Make my nose run, and my eyes water. Sick of this shit. Bad time of year.”

  I shrugged. “Never had allergies.”

  “You guys have fun?”

  “We had a lot of fun.”

  Hiding his pleasure was impossible. The words shot from his eager mouth. “Going again? On another?”

  I nodded. “Day after tomorrow?”

  “On a date?”

  I grinned. “Yep. He asked me and everything.”

  He let out a laugh, caught his breath, and then chuckled lightly. “See if you can get him to go in that car of yours.”

  “Why?”

  “Just see if you can.”

  “Maybe one of these days I’ll ask him. I don’t want to piss him off just yet.”

  He pushed his wheelchair away from the table with his foot, and then cocked his head to the side. “Was he polite?”

  “Yep. He opened doors for me. And, we walked together with my arm through his. Hooked together, kind of.”

  “I’ll be damned.” He reached for his letters. “Let’s get this one over with. Day’s about shot to shit, already. Haven’t got time to sit here and listen to you brag all damned day about your date.”

  We played for another thirty minutes, and I ended up using all my letters, which was a first. After subtracting for his unused letters, I tallied the score. After I finished, I totaled it again.

  Then, one more time, just to be sure.

  I cleared my throat. “481 to 513.”

  “Who’s on top?”

  I stood, then raised my hands high in the air. “Me.”

  “Fuck me running,” he howled. “No shit?”

  I felt like I was on top of the world. “No joke. I won, finally.”

  He grinned from ear to ear. “Come give the old man a hug.”

  I’d love to.

  “A hug? Really?” I let out a sigh. “If I have to.”

  I leaned over, hugged him, and held him in my arms for some time. He was a very special person for many reasons, and I loved him dearly whether he knew it or not.

  I reached for the game. “This a special day.”

  “Sure is.” He motioned toward the refrigerator. “Get in the freezer. Deann’s been known to keep some ice cream in there. We can celebrate.”

  I hadn’t had ice cream in forever. “Really?”

  “God damned right.”

  We sat and ate the ice cream, him chocolate, and me strawberry. I cherished it, nibbling away at miniscule bites, trying to make it last forever. Eventually the dish was empty, and the celebration was over.

  “Hey, I got something I was meaning to ask you, but I forgot.” He handed me his dish. “I need something different this weekend.”

  “Okay.”

  “On Sunday. Can you come late in the day, and just for a few hours? Like, I don’t know. 5:30? And then stay ‘till about 9:00? Hell, it’d let you and the circus…I mean, it’d let you and Brad stay out late Saturday night and then sleep in.”

  “Sure. Is everything okay?”

  “Everything’s fine. Wife and I just have some stuff to do. Have someone coming over during the day. Business to take care of. The boring kind.”

  “Sure. I’ll make it 5:30.”

  “Thanks, kid.”

  I cleaned the dishes, put up the game, and gave him a bath. After getting him dressed in a new pair of sweats and his beloved Padres sweater, I splashed him with his favorite aftershave, and then pushed him into the living room.

  As I lowering him into the recliner, he fought to catch his breath.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Just getting old, kid. I’ll be fine.”

  He straightened his sweater, brushed the wrinkles from his sweats, and picked up his Kindle.

  “Just got one chapter left in this one, and I’ll be done.”

  “I hope it has a happy ending,” I said.

  “It ain’t about a Chinese fuckin’ massage parlor,” he grunted. “No happy ending here.”

  “Okay, grumpy.”

  He chuckled, and then looked at me. “Kid?”

  “Yes, Bradley?”

  “Haven’t told you this yet, but it’s high time I do. I love ya, kid. I really do. And, you made me proud today.”

  Hearing him say those words meant more to me than he could ever imagine. I smiled, acting like it was no big deal, but it was. In fact, it was a huge deal.

  I swallowed hard. “I love you, too.”

  He nodded his head, smiled, and started reading.

  The lingering scent of his aftershave faded, as did my recollection of winning the game. My memory of that day, however, would go on to last for a lifetime.

  The day he said he loved me.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Pee Bee

  He bit into a piece of bacon and leaned back in his chair. “Good fuckin’ bacon this morning, Son.”

  I finished typing a text to Tegan and pressed send. I responded without looking up. “Same bacon as every other day.”

  “Cooked to perfection, today.”

  I set my phone aside and looked at him. “It’s always cooked right when I cook it.”

  “Not bad.” He nodded. “Not bad.”

  “Why are you in such a good mood today?” I asked.

  “I’m not.”

  “Seem to be.”

  He took another bite. “Just as grumpy as ever.”

  “You’re eating slow. And talking. You never talk when you eat. The ‘dinner table’ is called the dinner table because it’s for eating dinner. It’s not called the ‘talking table’ for a reason. Sound familiar?”

  He grinned. “Vaguely.”

  I’d heard him say it for eighteen years, no less than once a day. As far as he was concerned, all meals were to be devoured quietly, without any verbal interruption short of requests to pass food one direction or the other.

  “You seem happy.”

  “I am happy. Is that a fuckin’ crime?”

  “No. Just strange.”

  “Fuck off, Brad.”

  I laughed. “What’s that mean?”

  He poked the remaining bacon in his mouth and shrugged. “Means I called you by your fuckin’ name.”

  I couldn’t remember the last time he called me by my name. I had no idea what him doing so could mean, but I wondered. I nodded toward his plate. “Finish your breakfast, you’re making me nervous.”

  He grabbed another piece of bacon. “So, how’d your date go, Romeo?”

  “Good.”

  “Just good? Wasn’t meant to be? Was she a boring little thing?”

  “No, we had a pretty good time.”

  “What’d you talk about?”

  I shrugged. “Stuff.”

  “You aggravate me, sometimes, Brad.”

  I chuckled. “You aggravate me all the time.”

  “Good to know.” He finished his bacon, then grabbed another piece. He cleared his throat. “What’d you talk about?”

  He taught me to answer a direct question with a direct answer. As far as he was concerned, it was a matter of respect. Although we played around often, his clearing of his throat was a reminder to adhere to the principles he instilled in me.

  “She asked me why I wanted to go on a date with her, and why I thought she was attractive.”

  He took a nibble of the bacon. “What’d you tell her?”

 
“I told her I liked all of the things about her that made her different than me. Like her rinsing dishes, and then her cabinets are a mess, and mine are organized. Then I said I liked it that she didn’t let me run over her. You know, how she ain’t afraid to tell me to fuck off, even though she doesn’t actually say fuck off. It’s weird…”

  I paused and pondered how to continue.

  He wrinkled his brow. “What’s weird?”

  “Reminds me of you and mom.”

  “What does?”

  “Her and me. What you always called balance.”

  “I’ll be damned.” He tossed his bacon on the plate, and pushed it aside. “She beat me in Scrabble the other day.”

  That shocked me. Then, I filled with an odd sense of pride. “Really?”

  He nodded. “Damned truth. She’s a good kid. Maybe you and her should play it sometime.”

  My parents had played Scrabble every Friday since they were in their teens. The thought of doing it with Tegan made me nervous, and I didn’t find it very appealing.

  “Maybe.”

  “Might sound strange,” he said. “But the foundation of your mother’s and my relationship is that Scrabble box.”

  I stared at him in disbelief. “How the fuck can that be?”

  “No matter what happened at work, no matter what kind of day I had, no matter who sought the shelter of her safe house, and no matter how sad or depressing their circumstances were, every Friday, without fail, we knew we could count on that game together. No matter what. Through Johnson, Nixon, Ford, Carter, Reagan, Bush, Clinton, Bush, and Obama. Through tsunami’s, earthquakes, hurricanes, the prime lending fiasco, and everything else you can imagine, we had two constants. That game, and our love for each other.”

  That same sense of odd pride filled me, this time for my father, and his odd traditions and rules. Friday Scrabble. No fake Christmas trees. No gravy from a jar. No gifts from the internet. If a man doesn’t offer to shake your hand upon meeting him, he’s not worth meeting. Vacations are to be driven, not flown. Padres games are not to be interrupted for any reason. Don’t touch or ask to touch the sacred baseball. The list went on and on.

  “Maybe we’ll start playing,” I said.

  He nodded and then met my gaze, “Do something for me.”

  “Okay.”

  “One of these days, I’m not going to be around. Whenever that day comes, call her Kid from time to time, just to remind her of me, would ya?”

  “Who knows if she’ll be around,” I snapped. “And why would you say such morbid shit?”

  He grinned and shook his head. “Just forget it, shithead. Do something else for me?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Come by tonight and help your mother move the bed to the other side of the room. She’s ready for a change.”

  I stood. “Hell, I can move it now.”

  He glared at me. “God damn it, I don’t want the motherfucker moved now. If I did, I would have said get your ass in there and move the bed. I’m not sure where she wants the fucker. You can move it tonight. Jesus, Brad.”

  “Settle down, old man.” I laughed at his temper. “Where is she?”

  “She’s fuckin’ gone. Shopping. And she went to see her girlfriends.”

  “When will she be home?”

  He tossed his arm, cast and all, into the air. “How in the absolute fuck would I know?”

  “Well, when do you want me to stop by?”

  “We’ve got some shit to do this afternoon, why don’t you stop by at 6:00 sharp, how’s that?”

  “You gonna be alright for a bit? I need to get by the shop.”

  “I’ll be fine.” He lifted his plate. “Rinse that before you go, would ya?”

  I rinsed the plate, put it in the dishwasher, and returned to the living room. “I’m going to get.”

  Already immersed in his reading, he simply nodded. “Tell Navarro I sent my regards.”

  I stared. “You sure you’re alright?”

  He looked up. “Just go. Before I get up and put hands on you.”

  I chuckled and turned away. “See ya, Pop.”

  “6:00. Don’t forget.”

  I knew it wasn’t going to be pretty, so I’d mentally prepared for the worst. I eased my bike to a stop at the far side of the shop, pulled off my helmet, and hung it on the bars.

  Crip stood at the workbench tinkering with something. “Grab a beer and belly up to the bar, stranger. Where the fuck you been?”

  “Just busy.” I took a few cautious steps in his direction. “Nothing really. Pop’s recovery’s slow.”

  He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes widened, and then he spun around entirely. “What in the fuck happened to you?”

  Here goes.

  I stopped walking and shrugged. “I decided to just cut it.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ, Peeb. Just cut it? If you just cut it, it’d be to your shoulders. If you just cut it, you’d still have that beard.” He laughed and then shook his head. “You doing another T.V. show?”

  “Nope.”

  “God fucking damn.” He tossed what was in his hand aside. “You did it to fuck the nurse, didn’t you?”

  “No. I just did it.”

  “You fucked her in the ass, didn’t you?”

  “Nope.”

  “But you’re trying, huh?” he looked me over, and shook his head. “You look like a snitch, not the SAA of a 1% club.”

  “Thanks, Boss.”

  “This is what you had to come by and tell me? That you whacked off your hair and beard so you could dip your dick in the nurse?”

  I pushed my hands into my pockets and waited for him to finish his shit-talking.

  He cocked an eyebrow. “What? No answer?”

  I lifted my chin slightly. “You done?”

  “Done with what? You look like you should be on a billboard sipping a glass of scotch and wearing a Rolex.”

  “You done?”

  “Done what? Done talking about what an idiot you look like?”

  I clenched my teeth lightly and rocked back and forth on the balls of my feet.

  He looked me over, and then turned toward the workbench. “Yeah, I’m done.”

  “I’m asking her to go on the run to Palm Springs.”

  He spun around. “You’re what?”

  “Askin’ her to go. That’s what it is, an open run.”

  “You haven’t had a woman on the back of that bike, at least for club functions, in ten years. You sure this is--”

  I cocked my head. “You taking Peyton?”

  “What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

  “You taking Peyton?”

  “I’ll ask again, what the fuck does--”

  “Yes, or no, Boss?”

  He let out a sigh. “She’s coming along, yeah.”

  I nodded. “Until you’re ready to toss her aside and forget her, don’t say another word about me seeing this girl.”

  “Whoa. Hold on, Peeb. Don’t--”

  I pulled my hands from my pockets and raised my index finger. “Not one fucking word.”

  He picked up the brake caliper he was working on and looked at it for a minute. After wiping it free of oil with a rag and inspecting it under the light, he set it back down on the bench.

  “Tell you what, Pretty Boy. I’ll keep my mouth shut on this deal until I see it influencing the club, your performance, or your well-being. Until then.” He shrugged. “I’ll trust you’re a big boy making big boy decisions.”

  “All I ask.”

  “If she gets out of line, I’ll call her on it,” he said.

  “I know you will,” I said with a smile. “Her name’s Tegan, by the way.”

  “Not to me.” He chuckled and reached for the brake caliper. “I’ll call her Crash.”

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Tegan

  The smell of home cooked food hit me as soon as I walked through the door. My mouth began to salivate as I tried to identify a smell t
hat I recognized, but couldn’t completely place.

  Bradley looked up. He was dressed in khakis and a nice shirt. “Howdy, kid.”

  I walked up to him and kissed his cheek. “You look nice.”

  He patted me on the back. “Thanks. Got tired of the sweats and tee shirt routine. Deann helped me get dressed all by herself. Took an hour and a fuckin’ half, though.”

  I inhaled a long slow breath through my nose. “It smells good in here.”

  “Deann’s going nuts. Don’t know what got into that woman. Must be our approaching anniversary.”

  “She must be.” I took a few steps, inhaled another breath, and then turned around. “What is it? That she’s cooking?”

  “Hell, it’s hard saying with her. But whatever you do, don’t go in there. She hates people dicking around in the kitchen when she’s trying to cook.”

  “That’s good to know.” I let out a light laugh, not knowing if he was joking or telling the truth.

  “Care to eat with us? I’m sure there’s going to be plenty.”

  Spending time with Brad’s parents sounded like a great idea. “Sure, I’d love to.”

  “Well, we’d sure like to have you.”

  The sound of Brad’s motorcycle pulling into the driveway caught my attention. Bradley looked at me and grinned. “What a surprise, sounds like Brad’s here.”

  I was of the understanding that Brad was going to be busy with club business all day, and was surprised that he had finished. I tried not to act anxious, but doubted I was very convincing.

  “I’ll get the door,” I said, knowing I’d left it unlocked, and there was no need. I pulled it open and smiled.

  He was coming up the steps.

  “Hi.”

  He met my gaze and grinned. “How’s it going?”

  “I got invited for dinner.” I widened my eyes comically. “And, it smells really good.”

  “I got invited to move a bed.” He leaned close “Pop was in a weird mood this morning,” he whispered.

  “Seems to be in a good one, now.”

  “Who knows with him.” He stepped onto the landing and kissed me lightly. “Fucker called me Brad.”

  I chuckled. “Better than the circus clown.”

  We turned and walked in together.

  “Well what have we here?” Bradley said. “Don’t you two fuckers look cute together. Deann, come in here and look at this.”