His smile turns into a grin. “Okay.”
“You leave the arcade machines back in Indiana?”
He stands. “I didn’t know how to move them.”
“I’ll figure it out. Now come on. There are a few friends of mine you need to meet.”
* * *
Drew
“Holy shit! Boy Wonder’s got a boy wonder!”
The old man erupts with wheezy laughter right after he says it. He’s tall, probably in his late sixties, and he’s got piercings all over his droopy face.
“Shut the hell up, Havok,” Caesar growls. “Or I’ll come yank on your fucking nose.”
Everyone breaks out laughing like Caesar’s just said the funniest thing in the world. We’re at a house outside the city with a wooded back yard, where a handful of old tattoo artists are drinking by the fire.
Red stands up. I recognize him from the bar and some of Caesar’s stories and because of his unforgettable white beard. “Drew. Good to see you,” he says, then coughs into his hand.
Instead of waiting for Caesar to introduce me, which I know he hates doing, I jump in and do it myself. “Hi! Everyone. I’m Drew.”
The old tattoo artists grunt and bark their responses, which I decide to interpret as a friendly chorus of greetings.
“You want a beer, Drew?” the woman sitting next to Red asks. Before she answers, she tosses me one underhand from a cooler, which Caesar catches for me.
“Good arm,” he says.
She flexes. Snakes writhe around her bicep, and Red tries to whistle, but it turns into another cough. “Seniors weightlifting,” she declares, then smiles warmly to me. “I’m Jen.”
“Scotty,” a man with a black beard says. He’s short and muscly, and all of his tattoos look especially faded. He stands by the fire, and as the flames dance and light flickers across his face, I realize he’s probably in his seventies, older than everyone else.
“Tell us, Drew,” he drawls, then crosses his arms over his chest. “Can Caesar still get it up?”
Everyone laughs hysterically. “Fucking hell!” Caesar barks. “I told you, none of that shit!”
I grab his arm, grinning. “No matter how hard I try, I just can’t get it to go down,” I say sweetly.
Everyone laughs even louder at that, and when I look up and see the bashful look on Caesar’s face, I start laughing, too.
“That’s right!” Havok calls out, then lights a cigarette. “Don’t let Scotty give you that shit.”
Scotty turns to Red, gesturing to the chair he’s kicked back in. “Give me that chair.”
“Get your own fucking chair,” Red growls.
“I need to sit my ass down. You know my knees hurt. Now give me that chair.”
“Well shit, my back is acting up! Walk to the porch and get another chair.”
“Fucking hell!” Caesar bellows, then laughs. “I’ll get you a fucking chair.”
“Yeah I knew you would,” Scotty says with a grin. “You never would leave an old man standing on two bad knees, Boy Wonder.”
Caesar rolls his eyes, then takes my elbow and nods toward the old two-story house, which sits up the hill from the small fire. “Keep me company.”
When we slip away together, I realize I’m grinning.
