Page 3 of Dirty

He knelt on the floor and let out a sigh. I looked at him with jaded eyes, but then a tear rolled down his cheek. It was then that I knew he wasn’t a monster.

“In a moment, you’ll hear a terrible thunder,” he explained. “But don’t be afraid. The men who come with the thunder? They’re angels.”

Ten minutes later, there was a horrendous thunder. A thunder so powerful that it shook the walls and the floor.

Then, one after another, the angels came.

ONE

Cholo

Many of the men in the MC didn’t have jobs. They hustled for their money. Debt collectors, bail bondsmen, skip tracers, custom bike builders, and thugs for hire were some of their careers. Although I was completely devoted to the club, I chose to work for a living, and owned my own company.

Purchasing a home in southern California wasn’t cheap, or easy, but I was getting there one kitchen remodel at a time.

I pointed at the corner of the ceiling. “You see that gap in the crown molding?”

Steve nodded. “You can see it looking straight at it, but from the side, it’s barely--”

“It looks like shit. Redo it.”

He looked at the imperfection and shook his head. “That’ll waste sixteen feet of molding, and that shit’s expensive. You don’t even see it if you’re not looking for it.”

“Fix it. It’s either right, or it’s wrong. And that’s far from right.”

I was a perfectionist to a fault, and my work reflected it.

He let out a sigh. “Jesus. Fine. I’ll replace it.”

I looked around the kitchen. “Rest of it looks good as fuck, huh?”

He nodded. “Big change from when we started.”

After eliminating an interior wall, we’d replaced the cabinets, the flooring, the countertops, and fitted new tile for the backsplashes. What started as a dark and dated kitchen was now bright, open, and inviting.

The owner was away on vacation, and was scheduled to be home in two days. It was my hope to have the job completed before she arrived.

“She’s gonna be happy when she gets home.”

He looked around the kitchen. “She ought to be. This fucker looks like it should be in a magazine.”

The doorbell rang.

Steve and I exchanged a look. He shrugged.

“Fix that molding,” I said. “I’ll answer that on my way out.”

I sauntered to the door, pulled it open, and was surprised to see one of my old neighbors at the door. It wasn’t just any neighbor, it was Lucy.

She still looked every bit as attractive as she did the last time I saw her, and it had been more than ten years since that day passed.

I had a severe crush on her for what seemed like forever. She was tall, had long lean legs, and was built like a brick shithouse. She was ten years older than me, but it didn’t stop me. I crushed on her hard all through high school, and until she moved away a few years later. I never bothered to tell her how I felt, though.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. “Lucy?”

She stood on the porch, clutching her purse and nervously rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. She forced a smile, and then broke down in tears. After an awkward moment of me not really knowing what to do, she looked up and apologized.

“I’m so sorry to… I hate to bother you,” she said between sobs. “But your…your sister said I could find you here. I uhhm. I don’t. The police, they won’t do anything…I can’t…”