Yeah, that is happening. And fucking soon.
Another motorcycle drives by, and she jumps upright. Her hair sticking up everywhere, her eyes half asleep with one eye open and the other closed. She’s the definition of bed head, and she wears it fucking beautifully.
“Morning, Rookie.”
She glares, pulling her shirt closed so I can’t see her tits.
“What time is it?” Her voice is thick with sleep. I want to hear her moan my name with that tone of voice. God, I gotta stop that shit.
“Don’t know.” I climb up front, and look out the windshield. “Maybe noon?”
The block is cleared of cars, and most of the motorcycles are gone.
“What now?” She follows me up front, rubbing her eyes like a little kid who’s tired.
I point at the stake out car that’s still parked in front of the club.
“We can’t go in there, it’s too risky. So we’re going to find a phone so I can call Paw.”
“Paw?”
“Yeah, it’s his gangster name or some shit, I don’t know. He moved from Vegas because California had a better supply and demand for the product he was wanting to move. Last time I knew he was hanging out around this area.” Paw was one of my best sellers, he took growing weed, and cutting coke seriously. When he informed me he was moving farther west I wasn’t happy about it. It’s hard to trust people in the business of drugs as it is, and a man I knew from childhood was bailing on me. The only reason I allowed it was because he put me in contact with another dealer he swore would be profitable. The new guy is good, but I’m not sure he’s as great as Paw was.
“You’d think for a gangster he’d come up with a moniker a little more intimidating than Paw.” She grabs her seatbelt, getting situated.
I can’t help but smile, wait till she sees the guy. Paw is a big guy, with tattoos all over him. His name could be Tiny, and he’d still scare the shit out of kids.
I drive to the closest gas station, and pull next to the side of the building. Flipping the dashboard inside out I look for a couple quarters to call Paw. After finding a few, I eye Jillian. I can’t leave her here, she might run or try and drive off.
“You’re coming with me.”
“What?” she retorts, sass heavy in her tone.
“I don’t trust—”
“You don’t trust me. Yeah, we established that.” She rolls her eyes and unbuckles her seatbelt. Gritting my teeth, I scowl. When she finally forgives me, I’m going to fuck that bratty attitude right out of her.
Getting out of the car, I grab her by the cuffs and pull her closely behind me so nobody can see the metal wrapped around her wrists.
Keeping my hand on her, I put the quarters in and dial the last number I remembered Paw having.
“Ello?”
“Paw?”
“Who da fuck is this?”
“It’s Zeek. I need a favor.”
“Zeek, my motherfucking brother from another mother. What’s up, man? What you need?”
“I need somewhere to stay, just for a while.”
“You in some shit?” His tone dips, as if someone might hear him.
“Yeah, yeah, I am.” I look at Jillian, the sun beaming off her blonde hair as she looks out at the passing cars.
“Aight, I got you. You know your way around LA?”
“I can manage.”
“No doubt, No doubt. Head to Rustic Creek, and head on Green Eldgewood, House number 1356.”
“Got it.”
“Aight, I’ll meet you there, homey.”
I hang the phone up, and pull on Jillian’s cuffs.
“Let’s go.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Jillian
WE DRIVE FOR WHAT SEEMS LIKE FOREVER. Eventually passing the ocean, which I can’t help but stick my head out of the window and inhale the salty smell. Crossing my arms on the windowsill of the door, I rest my chin in the crook of my arm. The warm breeze is strong and uplifting, throwing my hair around wildly. For the first time in days, I feel…free. With the sun shining, and warming my skin, the thoughts of loving or hating Zeek fade as the sun blinds me with its rays. I wish I could just sit like this for the forseeable future, and not have to face the truth of reality.
It hurts, this nabbing pain in my chest reminding me that Zeek killed my father every time I get close to him. The fact that I am so utterly consumed with him that I want so badly to forget anything that has happened, but I can’t. My father deserves better than that.
I remember one night being on a call with my field training officer when we got a domestic dispute call. Upon pulling up there was a car on fire in the driveway and a girl sitting on the patio steps. When we asked what happened she said her boyfriend cheated on her, and she was so mad that the only way she could expel the pain in her chest was by setting his car on fire. I asked if she felt better, and she lit a cigarette, smiled, and said, “a little bit, yeah.” I thought the chick was crazy then, but I totally get it now.