Page 19 of Diesel

“Who do you think’s following us? That same car passed by when I told that biker to leave.”

I’d seen the car as well. “My father’s paid someone to keep tabs on us. I was thinking maybe I’d seen the car along the curb outside the club instead of inside. Do the Messengers have their shit together enough to follow us?”

Diesel shrugged. “It doesn’t matter who it is. They have an ass-kicking awaiting.”

“Does it ever bother you? Beating up people?” It was one of those questions that shouldn’t be asked, like asking a soldier how many men they killed in battle. Most didn’t want to discuss it.

“It doesn’t. I don’t randomly beat up people. When I do, it’s because they deserve it.”

“I’m going to run to the ladies room. Don’t let me catch that bitch flirting with you.”

Diesel laughed. “I’ll get two more beers.”

Under watchful eyes, I slipped from the booth and crossed the room, finding the ladies room empty and quiet. I opened a stall door, peed, and went to the sink without looking in the mirror.

I was probably the only woman in the country who brushed her hair and did her makeup without looking in the mirror. Minus the accidental glance now and again, I’d not stared at myself in the mirror in twenty years.

It happened when I was ten. I’d gone with my uncle and two cousins to the state fair one Friday night during the summer. Uncle let us run around alone while he hung out at the beer tent, getting smashed. We hit the Gravity Machine first, the Ferris Wheel next, and stopped for cotton candy while we stood outside the funhouse scared to death.

“I’m not going in,” my cousins said. Neither wanted to be as close as we were. Curious, I wanted in. “Go on in,” they told me. “We’ll be right here if you get back.”

So, I did. I handed over my cotton candy, pulled three red tickets from my pocket, and walked to the entrance, where a nasty old bearded man let me through. I glanced back at the cousins, who were ignoring me and enjoying my cotton candy.

Large plastic strips covered the entrance, and I had to use all my strength to push them aside when I entered. Loud carnival music made it hard to hear anything else, including those who had entered before me.

My clothes glowed against the fluorescent lights. Pretend clowns popped out from the walls as I continued deeper into the attraction’s bowls. I took a left, flashing lights blinding me momentarily. Two large eyes illuminated the wall next to me, and I jumped. When I turned to leave, I realized the way behind me had been closed off.

A door to the left opened, creaking louder than the music. I stepped through the door, which closed, throwing the room into momentary darkness. Blue flashing lights came on, and I found myself in a room of mirrors. “The door is hidden in the mirrors,” a voice cried from overhead, laughter following.

I proceeded forward, feeling my way along the mirrors, looking at myself. The mirrors began moving, closing in. Spinning in a circle, I pounded my fists against the glass, screaming for someone to help.

The image in the mirrors, my image, changed. I screamed louder, pleading for help, but the mirrors kept closing in. I screamed again. A hand landed on my shoulder and pulled. The lights in the room illuminated, and I turned, still screaming.

“Diesel!” I screamed, realizing where I was.

One of the men covered my mouth, stifling my screams. I knew the music in the bar was too loud for Diesel to hear. I kicked out at the man in front of me, but he caught my foot.

The smell of the rag over my mouth and nose was the last thing I remembered before everything went dark.

8

Diesel

No woman stays in the ladies' room for more than fifteen minutes unless she has a really bad case of the shits. The waitress placed two plates on the table and sat where Gigi should have been sitting.

“I get off at midnight,” she said. “I can get you off shortly after that.”

The bar returned to normal: people laughing, drunks arguing, the music drowning out everything. I glanced toward the restrooms.

“Don’t worry about her,” the waitress said. “It’s just you and me now.”

“Now?” I stood and started toward the restrooms. The music stopped, and those laughing and arguing stopped what they were doing.

Three men blocked the way.

“Where is she?”

“Not here,” the man in the middle said. It’s always the man in the middle who starts shit. He feels secure with his wingmen, so he thinks he’s safe. Not true. Bikes rumbled outside, and then the sound disappeared in the distance. Every part of my empty soul told me Gigi was on one of those bikes.

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