HOT as F*CK

by Scott Hildreth

  I took a long drag, nodded my head, and blew a cloud of smoke into the still morning air.

  “So, you and your pop were pretty tight?” he asked.

  I nodded my head and took another long pull on the cigarette.

  “You ever make New Year’s resolutions?” he asked.

  “What the fuck?” I asked, coughing out smoke as I did so.

  He folded his arms in front of his chest and grinned. “Just asking,” he responded.

  “Yeah, make ‘em every year,” I said.

  He grinned and nodded his head. “Finish that smoke and fire up another, you might need it.”

  “Get on with it, Doctor Phil,” I said.

  “You ever go visit your Pop’s grave? You know, go see him or anything, and before you ask, no disrespect here. I’m just saying, I know a lot of fellas whose pop has passed, and a lot of ‘em go to the grave and just sit and talk. You know, some leave notes, and stuff like that. So do you do any of that?” he asked.

  I nodded my head. “Sure do.”

  “Okay. Now. You said yesterday when we were at that donut place that the only reason you dropped this girl was because she agreed to meet for dinner, and she never showed up. It’s undisputed you don’t carry a phone, but she could have called your mom’s place, because she’s got her number, and she could have called your place, even though you were gone, but she didn’t until the next day. You went by that night, and you thought she was gone, but she left you a voicemail the next day explaining that she got drunk and passed out. You see all of this as a broken promise, and how can you trust her if she breaks promises, right? Sound about right?” he asked.

  “Sounds about right,” I said.

  He uncrossed his arms and clapped his hands together.

  “When did you start smoking again?” he asked.

  It shocked me that he knew I had even quit. The entire time I knew Jackson I had smoked, and was never around during the time I had quit. As far as answering the question, I didn’t even have to think about it.

  “When we broke up,” I responded.

  “Figures. Okay, and before that, did you smoke at all? You know, maybe an occasional cigarette?” he asked.

  I nodded my head. “When I was really pissed.”

  “Alright. Now, here’s a few questions I want you to either answer, or just stand and stew on for a minute. Let me ask them all,” he said. “And then you can chew on ‘em.”

  I shrugged my shoulders, pulled out another cigarette, and lit it. “Okay.”

  He held his clenched fist in the air and extended a finger each time he asked a question.

  “Did you ever make a New Year’s resolution to quit?”

  “Did you ever tell your pop you quit? When he was alive or after his death?”

  “Did you ever go to his grave and talk to him about it, you know, out of pride?”

  “Did you ever tell your mom you weren’t smoking when you were?”

  “Did you…”

  I held my hand in the air, spit my cigarette on the driveway, and stepped on it. “Stop.”

  “Something wrong?” he asked.

  Almost everything he had asked, I had done. I gave up cigarettes, at least initially, as a New Year’s resolution. Before and after doing so, I had gone to my father’s grave, and told him that I intended on quitting, and after having done so, that I had successfully quit.

  I had also told my mother on a few occasions when she said I smelled like smoke that I wasn’t smoking.

  I felt sick.

  Somehow, someway, I had become exactly what I despised.

  I was a hypocrite.

  And there was no other way of looking at it.

  I had made promises that I didn’t keep; to myself, my mother, and to my father.

  “You look sick, Brother,” he said as he slapped his hand against my bicep.

  “I feel sick,” I said.

  “Probably that cigarette. Those things’ll kill ya,” he said. “So, you didn’t answer, you going to?”

  “Don’t think I need to, you already know the answers,” I said. “How’d you know?”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Most people who smoke actually smoke their cigarettes. You take a couple hits and toss it. It told me you either felt guilty or you wanted to quit. I picked the former. Asked a couple of the fellas, and Axton told me you’d gone without for about five years as far as he could remember. And almost everyone who quits makes a resolution. The rest was just a good guess.”

  I felt as if my entire world had been turned upside down. My entire life had been lived under the premise that I was the one person who had never made a promise he didn’t keep, and I expected everyone who befriended me to do and be the same.

  And I used my ex-wife’s shortcomings against Sienna, the only woman I truly ever loved, based on my belief that she had broken a promise.

  “Think I’m going to be sick,” I said.

  “You already said that. You’ll be fine. Oh, I got one more question,” he said.

  I gazed down at the toes of my boots. “I don’t think I want to hear it,” I said.

  “Don’t rightfully give a fuck, I’m asking anyway,” he said.

  I shifted my eyes to meet his and nodded my head.

  “You still love that girl?” he asked.

  I nodded my head. “Sure do.”

  He turned toward his bike, threw his leg over the seat, and fired the engine.

  “Saddle up,” he said.

  “To where?” I asked.

  “Sienna’s place,” he said.

  I shook my head. “I’ll go alone,” I said.

  “Not an option,” he said.

  I furrowed my brow and glared at him. “What’s that mean?”

  “Means it’s not a fucking option. I’ve got a plan. You’ll see,” he said.

  “I don’t know if I want to,” I said.

  He revved the engine and grinned. “Don’t give a fuck. Get on, and believe me, you’ll be fine. I’m your friend, Brother, I won’t do anything to disrespect you.”

  I reluctantly got on my bike, fired the engine, and shook my head in disbelief. After turning around, I pulled alongside his bike.

  “Follow me,” I said.

  As I pulled out of the drive, I felt in many respects like I was a kid again.

  Starting my life from scratch again with my friend Jackson.

  Chapter Two Hundred Thirty-Four

  SIENNA

  I was right in the middle of reading C.J. McShane’s new MC novel, My Brother’s Keeper, and the sound of motorcycles followed by my doorbell ringing sent chills down my spine. I ran from the kitchen to the living room window and pulled the blinds to the side. One motorcycle sat in the center of the drive, facing the street, with a man sitting on it. The other, which was clearly Vince’s bike, sat in the drive facing the street, but he wasn’t on it.

  I quickly moved to the other side of the blinds and peered toward the porch. Vince stood with his hands in his pockets rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

  Holy shit.

  I ran to the bathroom, checked my hair, and made every effort to calm my nerves. I had no idea why he had come to my house, but I hoped it was at least to talk with me like an adult. I couldn’t help but wonder who he brought with him and why. After staring into the mirror blankly for what seemed like an eternity, I ran to the door and opened it slowly.

  “Hi,” I said.

  It sounded foolish, but I had no idea what else to say. It had been four months since we’d seen each other, and as with any other shitty time in my life, the time passed at an extremely slow rate, making the days seem like months. In many respects, I felt I had been away from Vince for a decade.

  His face wasn’t cleanly shaven, but it was close. He looked like he had a few days growth of beard, seemed slightly thinner than normal, but not unhealthy. The expression on his face seemed to be one of worry. He raked his hair away from his eyes and did his best to smile.

  “
Hi,” he said.

  I guess I’ll say something.

  “So…”

  He raised his hand, cleared his throat, and shook his head from side to side. “Hold up a minute.”

  I stood in the doorway and wondered just what was going on. As I began to run through scenarios in my head, I wondered if something happened to his mother. Before I had a chance to ask, he cleared his throat again and began to speak.

  “Look, I made a mistake. I blamed you for things and you didn’t deserve it. You did nothing wrong. And me?” he paused, shrugged his shoulders, and chuckled. “I’m far from perfect, and I did everything wrong. I’m selfish, self-righteous, and I apologize for being so blind and stubborn to not even be able to see how imperfect I really am.”

  I inhaled a breath and considered speaking. He immediately raised his hand again to stop me.

  “I’m sorry for what I did to you, and I hope you can find a way to forgive me,” he said.

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. All at once, my throat constricted, I felt flush, and I was afraid I was going to faint. But surprisingly, I didn’t say a word.

  “I’m just going to cut to it. Sienna, I love you and I can’t possibly live without you. Will you take me back?” he asked.

  I had rehearsed what I wanted to say over and over in my head if this day came. After reading for four months on a daily basis, thinking in my down time, and planting a hundred flowers, I decided if I took him back, I was going to be demanding of some things and do the best that a 125 pound girl could to make him feel like shit.

  I widened my eyes and cocked my head to the side. “Take you back? Really?”

  He nodded his head. “Will you?”

  As much as I wanted to just say yes and immediately pick up where we left off, I wanted to make sure he understood how I felt.

  “So?” he asked, standing with is shoulders perma-shrugged.

  “If I do, there are gonna be some conditions. Gimme a minute, I’m thinking,” I said.

  I shifted my eyes from Vince to the man in the driveway. I wondered who he was and what he was doing with Vince at this particular moment in time. Obviously a Selected Sinner, and more than likely doing some job with Vince or acting as his muscle on trying to intimidate someone, it seemed odd Vince would bring him to my home.

  “So, who’s he?” I asked as I tossed my head toward the driveway.

  “A friend,” he responded.

  I widened my eyes comically and nodded my head in my best sarcastic manner. “Oh, so you’ve got friends now?”

  He nodded his head. “One.”

  Vince didn’t have male friends, and he didn’t run with any of the Sinners that I knew of. My guess was that this guy somehow convinced Vince to come talk to me after a long night or a drunken confession on Vince’s part.

  “Tell him to come here,” I said.

  “Jackson, come here for a minute,” Vince hollered over his shoulder.

  Jackson?

  “What’s his name?” I asked.

  “Jackson,” he said.

  I narrowed my eyes and stared. “Jackson?”

  He nodded his head once. “Yeah, Jackson.”

  Vince had no idea his mother had told me of his childhood friend, Jackson. Hearing the man’s name made goosebumps rise along my arms and caused my heart to race. I gazed over Vince’s shoulder and focused on Jackson, and all of a sudden my perception of him changed. He looked like he actually cared.

  I grinned.

  “Jackson Shephard,” the man said as he stepped onto the porch and extended his hand.

  I shook his hand and smiled. “Sienna Boyco.”

  As he leaned back and crossed his arms, his mouth curled into a smirk. “What can I do for you?”

  He looked like a fighter. He was big, muscular, tattooed, and had a permanent smirk on his face like he knew something I didn’t. I gazed back at him knowing ninety percent of the population on earth would run from this guy, but all in all I felt extremely comfortable with him and I didn’t really know why.

  “Just stand over there,” I said as I pointed to the edge of the porch. “I want a witness.”

  “You’ve got it, Boyco,” he said as he stepped to the side.

  I shifted my eyes from Jackson to Vince and gave him my best angry glare.

  “Okay. Here’s my response. Yes, I will take you back under these conditions. One, we start up right where we left off. Two, you never, and I mean never do what you did to me again. If we ever have an issue that is worthy of creating waves in our relationship, we talk first, react later. And three, you’re going to go to your mothers and tell her you’re sorry, and I mean like now. And Sunday dinner starts again tomorrow,” I paused and crossed my arms in front of my chest in standard Vince fashion. “Take it or leave it.”

  He didn’t make me wait long.

  He nodded his head and smiled. “I’ll take it.”

  I shifted my eyes toward Jackson. “You witnessed it.”

  Still smiling his shitty little smirk, he nodded his head once and pointed at me. “Sure did.”

  Vince cocked his head to the side. “Go for a ride?”

  “Sure, let me get my glasses,” I said.

  “Looks like we’re headed to mom’s place next, huh?” Jackson asked as he coughed out a laugh.

  Vince shrugged his shoulders. “Guess so.”

  “Good,” he said. “We can stop and get Em.”

  “Okay, let me get my glasses,” I said as I turned toward the house.

  I hurried into the kitchen and as soon as I was behind the cover of the wall I pumped my fist at my side and smiled.

  Yes!

  I walked out onto the porch, kissed Vince, and followed him to the bike. After I got on, they both started their bikes, and we sat for a few seconds.

  I had to know.

  “Excuse me, Jackson?” I asked over the sound of the exhaust.

  “Yeah,” he said with a nod of his head.

  “Are you the one who talked him into coming here?” I asked.

  He shrugged his shoulders and looked at Vince as if seeking authorization to answer.

  “Yeah, he is,” Vince said over his shoulder.

  I fucking knew it.

  Thanks Mom and Dad.

  Chapter Two Hundred Thirty-Five

  VINCE

  I had to be honest with myself before I could be honest with anyone else. Once I realized I was mistaken in my beliefs and opinions of myself, I quickly admitted my faults to God and my mother, and I had one more step to go before I could feel that I was the man I had always portrayed myself as being.

  “Brought your bike. Tell you what, that thing’ll never die. It’s a beast, Pop,” I said.

  I glanced around the cemetery. Rows upon rows of headstones did nothing to minimize the loss of my father, but I did feel like I had thousands of eyes and ears making sure what I said was exactly what I needed to say.

  “So, I came here for a reason. I guess, when you get right down to it, I came here for your respect…”

  I paused and shook my head. It was far more difficult than I ever imagined it would be. After a moment, I lowered myself to the ground, sat cross legged, and gazed at the headstone.

  “I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this, and I want to admit some things to you. I hope I didn’t disappoint you too much, and if I did, I’ll apologize in advance.”

  I shifted my eyes up to the trees, and eventually to the blue sky well beyond the cemetery. After scanning the horizon for clouds and finding none, my eyes fell to the gravestone.

  “Pop, I lied to you. I told you I quit smoking, and I did. But I started again, quite a few times, and I never came back and told you. So I lied. I know you’d see it that way, and I sure see it that way. I lied to Ma, and hell everyone for that matter.”

  “You know I told you I quit because you wanted me to, and I’m going to try again. I’m going to do my best, but no promises. We’ll just see how it goes.”

  I uncro
ssed my legs, stood, and rested my hand on the top of the headstone. “So I’ve got the girl back, and I’m not going to let her go this time. I know how you and mom tried to have kids after me and always hoped for a girl…”

  “Well, I guess in some ways Ma’s got one now. She sure likes her, Pop. We’re over there for Sunday dinners every week. Brought one of the fellas and his girl a couple of times, and Ma sure enjoyed it. Hell, before you know it we might have that dinner table full of the fellas and their girls. I know it’d make Ma happy to have that house filled with people even if it was just once.”

  “I’m real sorry if I let you down, Pop. There’s one more thing that’s been bothering me. It’s not a lie in my eyes, but it’s the only other thing I could think of that I needed to admit.”

  I lifted my hand from the gravestone, crossed my arms in front of my chest, and studied the name on the stone.

  Vincent Stephen Ames

  “Vince”

  “When I was a kid, I used to peel the wrapping paper off the packages, to see what I was getting, and wrap ‘em back up.”

  I slapped my hand against the top of the headstone and grinned.

  “I’ll keep you up to speed on the girl, Pop. And I’m sorry, I really am. I guess all I can say is this…”

  “From this day forward I’ll do my best to make you proud.”

  And that’s a promise.

  Chapter Two Hundred Thirty-Six

  SIENNA

  Where we left off. That’s what I demanded, and it was without a doubt what I received. From the moment we pulled out of the driveway, things were right back to the way they were. I didn’t need to forgive Vince, my mind didn’t see things the way other people did. What happened wasn’t his fault, it was him acting in a manner that was in accordance with his beliefs and the moral code he lived by. He wasn’t right, nor was he wrong. He simply made a decision.

  Would I have made it?

  No.

  Did I agree that it was appropriate?

  No.

  But it wasn’t my place to second guess the man I fell in love with. I fell in love with who Vince was, and who he was played a great part in his decision making. For me to condemn him for being himself would be to admit I wasn’t actually in love with him, only parts of him.