“That good?”
“Fuck. Where to start? I got it under control for now, but this ain’t my gig, bro. You know that.”
“Yeah. So you say. Not sure it’s mine either.”
“Better you than me, man.”
He laughs and says, “Thanks a whole hell of a lot. What’s up with my cousin? D still got his head up his ass? He still won’t step up?”
“Yeah. And he won’t say why. Just that he can’t.”
He doesn’t say anything after that for a minute. I’m sure he’s at a loss for words. A lot like Cap was when Dozer stepped down.
“Hey, listen. Think this is my last call.”
“Okay. Good. Sick of you wakin’ my ass up at the crack of dawn.”
He laughs again.
Then I tell him, “I’ll see you on the other side then, brother.”
“Yeah . . . see you on the other side.”
I hang up the phone and then roll over. Rub my hands over my face. The dream still lingers in my mind. I don’t dare close my eyes for fear it will be right there when I do. More vivid than it is now with my eyes open.
I look down at myself, for the first time, I see that I passed out still dressed. Well . . . at least I took my cut off. From here I can see the worn leather vest is hanging over the La-Z-Boy in the corner of my room. How it got there, I have no fucking idea.
My head throbs, but so does my hand. I peer down at it. It’s bruised. Two of my knuckles are swollen as hell and bleeding. When I flex my hand, the cuts open a bit and the throbbing gets worse. I glance around the room until I locate the damage I did to the wall in last night’s drunken rage. There’s a hole the size of a basketball, which means I planted my fist through it more than once.
Fuuucck . . . Good one, Mav.
I’ll have to patch that shit up later.
I sit up and throw my legs over the side of the bed. My head feels like it’s being crushed by a compactor, and the world becomes blurry for a minute and I swallow back the rising nausea.
The black bag is sitting there in the middle of the floor. Its contents are spread around the room. I reach for them and quickly shove it all back in the bag. Seal it away, and kick my past back under the bed. Out of sight. Where it belongs.
Actually, I should burn that shit. I’ve tried to a number of times. Maybe I’ll be successful at it today.
At my dresser, I pull off my shirt and take off my jeans, change into workout shorts so I can get rid of some of this pent up anger, arousal, and edginess. Whatever in the fuck that’s making me think and feel too damn much.
EMBER
I wake slowly. It takes me a minute to orient myself, figure out where I am. The first things I see are white sheets, the beige comforter, and the bare off-white walls. The smell is familiar. A lot like my childhood home. But I haven’t lived there in years so it throws me off.
Slowly, last night comes back to me and I recognize my surroundings for what they are. Dozer’s room.Right. I’m in the clubhouse.
As the thought snakes its way through my brain, I’m tempted to close my eyes, click my heels three times, and see if I’ll somehow be magically transported home, to Sundown and Will.
God . . . if only that were possible.
Sighing, I think . . .stop being negative. Is this really how you want to start the day?
No, it’s not. So I take a deep, cleansing breath and start over.Today will be whatever you make of it. So be brave and make it good.
Honestly, being here, although it’s not paradise by any stretch of the imagination, especially after what went down with Mav yesterday, isn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be.
For a minute there last night, I actually found myself having fun chatting, and laughing with Lily who gets silly as all get out when she’s drunk. I sipped on a drink, played pool, and innocently flirted with a good-looking guy. Something I haven’t done for . . . I don’t even know how long.