I pursed my lips in disdain. Pin nodded along so quickly that I had to wonder if he had experience with a woman who had been manipulated. An old girlfriend maybe, or possibly a mother?
“She’s right,” Pin said. “At least you’re not the wife sitting at home right now.”
Kim shuddered and nodded. “So true. Is she – do you think she’ll be ok?”
“I don’t really know her,” I said, considering how much to tell Kim. “But I’m sure she’ll be fine. In my experience, these women always get the last laugh once their divorce attorney is done with their crummy husbands.”
“Good,” Kim said.
“I would not suggest you two meet though,” I said as Kim nodded. “Too often the wives take it out on the mistresses. You’ll be ok though. I get the sense you’re pretty resilient.”
“I’ve had to be,” Kim said. “I swear, I have the worst luck in guys.”
I gave her a sly grin and raised my glass. “Now that I understand.”
I glanced at Pin just then, catching just the smallest quirk of his right eyebrow. It was a blink-and-you-miss-it movement, but I’m a PI. It’s my job to never blink.
And the way he moved his eyebrow was as if he was responding to a challenge I’d put forth.
A half-hour later, I said my goodbyes. Kim and I had exchanged phone numbers and agreed on a tentative scheme that we would flesh out later.
Once I was back in my car, I chugged a bottle of water from my purse. Daniel would kill me if I got a DUI while on the job. I didn’t feel tipsy though. I never drank too much when I was on a job, so I had been careful to only drink half of my second beer.
As I turned my car back east towards the other side of La Playa, I pondered this case. It wasn’t quite as intriguing as I had hoped, but it wasn’t as banal as I had feared.
Kim was definitely not the typical mistress. Trey had played with fire when he lied to a biker. I almost pitied him, but not quite.
Then there were the other bikers. I was curious about their club. On the exterior, the leather-clad bikers had fit every stereotype. Tough, manly, a little bit to the left of the law. But they were loyal, that much was clear. Even to Kim, who was new to the club and a woman at that.
And Pin had been so nice. His every move had exuded respect and responsibility. He balanced their books for crying out loud. Although now that I thought about it, balancing the books could still be a bit left to the law. I had seen enough mafia films to know that at least.
But if I was trusting my gut, I would guess he didn’t fudge the numbers. I always made sure to listen to my gut, but never let it make the final ruling. Which meant, for now, I was inclined to consider Pin and the other bikers good guys, but I wasn’t going to make any major decisions. I had seen plenty of scumbags wearing impressive Good Guy Masks.
If Pin was wearing a mask though, it was a compelling one. My thoughts drifted away from Trey and Kim and towards Pin with the way he had leaned forward to talk to me. The way his eyes had scanned my face as if I was the most fascinating person in the room. The way his hand had brushed against mine when he handed me a beer. The way he had never stared, but had totally and completely noticed my slightly bare midriff. The way one lock of his dark hair had fallen over his forehead.
I shook my head and forced myself to focus on the road. It was not a good idea to mix business with pleasure. I couldn’t let a mild crush distract me from the case.
I told myself that my interest in him was because it’d been a while since my last fling. That’s why I was so smitten with Pin after a measly two hours. The last guy I’d been with was an artistic type. An aspiring singer-songwriter, which I had thought might make him interesting. Or at the very least poetic.
Veronica had teased me over that one. She had told endless jokes about how she had been down the aspiring singer road, and it led to nothing but endless complaints and guitars taking up space in one’s apartment.
I hadn’t even gotten that far. First, he was a mediocre singer. And second, he could converse on exactly one thing, and it was the unfairness of open mic nights in the greater LA area and how it wasn’t about talent and all about who you knew.
I’m not saying he was wrong, but after three weeks I was done.
Most of my flings followed that pattern. Different guys, different careers, same impatience on my part. I knew it was more my problem than the guys I dated. I wasn’t the type to blame others for my own restlessness.
I also wasn’t the type to sit and mope at home. I liked flirting. I enjoyed that fluttery feeling you get in your stomach when you meet a guy who maybe, just maybe, will be different from all the rest. Someone who will make every day an adventure.
Only that guy couldn’t be Pin. I would tie up this case with a big bow, wish Kim the best, and then go out and meet someone else. Easy.
By the time I got back to my one-bedroom apartment, it was almost midnight. I sighed but didn’t go straight to bed.
Instead, I pulled out my notebook and wrote down all my notes from the night. It was best to record everything while it was still fresh in my mind. I had long since learned that no detail was too small or unimportant. People you thought were side characters could end up being key witnesses.
I wrote down every name of those I had encountered: Moves, Hawk, Carlos, Kim, Trey. Pin. After that, I jotted down physical characteristics and everything they had said, no matter how inconsequential.
Then I turned to a new page and wrote “Outlaw Souls” at the top. I paused with my pen suspended midair. I didn’t really know anything about the club, what they did, or how they even made the money that Pin handled.
