Page 58 of Monk
He takes another drag. “That ain’t for you to say.”
“Sure, it is. I think I have at least some say in anything that happens. Or doesn’t happen.”
“Me and the boys have thought you need a good woman in your life, kid. We’ve thought that for a while now. You’re just too… isolated,” he says.
“When I’m not with you guys, I’ve got Bo.”
“Got an answer for everything, don’t you?”
I nod. “Yep.”
“Okay, listen up, I’m only going to tell you this once. You’re a good man, kid. Better than you give yourself credit for. And you deserve a good woman. A good woman can help ease that burden you’re carryin’. She’s stronger and can handle a lot more than you think. We don’t get a chance at somethin’ really special often, and we rarely get a second bite of that apple. You’ve got a second chance with her. You have a chance to set right what you fucked up before. I think she’s made her feelings clear. Ball’s in your court now. Don’t fumble this one again,” he says.
“That’s a fine speech. You sounded like Dr. Phil there.”
He takes a drag and drops his cigarette, crushing it with his boot as he laughs. “Go fuck yourself.”
I laugh along with him for a minute, but his words continue to echo through my mind. I drop my smoke and crush it out as our laughter fades, then look up at him.
“I appreciate the speech, Prophet.”
He nods. “You deserve to be happy, brother. You deserve more than you think.”
“Stop. You’re gonna make me tear up.”
He laughs. “You’re such a prick. I’m serious though. Handle your shit and don’t fuck it up this time.”
I nod as he walks off. A moment later, the rest of the guys file out of the clubhouse, all of them giving me sidelong glances and snickering loudly. It makes me wonder what in the hell she’s told them in there. I walk inside and find her sitting on top of the bar, beer in hand.
“They’re good guys,” she says. “Not what I was expecting at all.”
“What did you tell them?”
She shrugs. “We just shared stories about you.”
“There is still that hole Cueball dug out back, you know.”
She flashes me a smile, but the air between us crackles with tension and the weight of unsaid words.
“We should talk,” I say.
She nods. “Can we do it tomorrow? I really need a shower and some fresh clothes.”
I laugh softly. “Yeah. Just text me the details.”
As we head out and I watch her walk to her car, Prophet’s words come back to me again, ringing in my head loud and clear.Don’t fuck it up, he said.
But sometimes, it seems like that’s what I do best.
Chapter Twenty-One
Kasey
The sun is high in the sky, only just beginning its slow descent toward the horizon. As I drive along, I see the waters of the Pacific are glittering. The water seems to beckon to me, and part of me is tempted to go down to the beach, run into the waves, and splash around like an idiot. I haven’t done that since I was a kid. But as recent events are teaching me, what’s old is suddenly new again.
Two hours ago, if you’d asked me to describe a biker, I would have rattled off a list of stereotypes. Big and burly. Scary. Mean. Not very intelligent or well spoken. Probably illiterate. Drug dealing murderer. I could have laid out a thousand different descriptions from things I’ve seen in movies, on TV, or whatever.
The Pharaohs, however, are making me rethink some of my preconceived notions and intolerant beliefs.
