Page 59 of Reno

I sipped the vile brew. “Uh huh.”

“Her perfume bother ya?”

“No. Actually, she smells real nice.”

He gave me the typical Nick Navarro glare. “Brother, you’re going to have to help me out, here. I ain’t much on having meaningful conversation when there’s only one participant. In fact, I find it about half fucking irritating.”

He walked past me and poured the remainder of the coffee in his cup.

“Coffee tastes like shit,” I said.

“Been in that pot since day before yesterday,” he said, looking into his cup. “Never tastes worth a fuck after the first day, but I hate to waste it.”

“Don’t want to make a fool out of myself,” I said. “End up snapping in front of her or coming up missing for a month because I had some episode. Have her end up hatin’ me because I do somethin’ dumb.”

“Come up missing for a month?” He gave me a look. “That a common occurrence?”

“Remember that story about the waitress in Vegas? Me shacking up with her for a month?”

He nodded. “When Baker called the cops and turned you in as missing?”

“Yep.”

“Yeah. I remember it. Why?”

“Was a lie. I was wadded up in a ball in a seedy hotel room. All the lights and shit in Vegas got to me. Thought I was gonna end up in a fucking mental institution. Was too embarrassed to tell anyone what really happened.”

“God damn, Brother. Why didn’t you say something?”

I shrugged. “Embarrassed, I guess. Ashamed a little, maybe.”

He gripped my bicep. “No shame in being human.”

Being out of control didn’t allow me to feel very human. I nodded, nevertheless. “People that weren’t there don’t understand.”

He looked me in the eyes. “You’re worried that you’re going to flip out and she’ll get scared and run?”

“Pretty much.”

“People like you and me need stability in our lives. Everything needs to be in order. We hate clutter, we fear change, and everything needs to be just the way we think it needs to be. Might not be like everyone else thinks it ought to be, but it’s got to be the way it needs to be for us to maintain a level of sanity. My pickles have to go on the bottom compartment of the fridge, on the door, beside the mayonnaise. Can’t have ‘em anywhere else, or I feel like someone’s trying to sabotage my life. Sound familiar?”

“Sounds like you been peeking in my windows.”

“Peyton’s the best thing that ever happened to me. Knowing every night she’s gonna fall asleep beside me, and that every morning she’s going to give me a kiss before she goes to work? That’s made my life more stable than I ever thought it could be. I haven’t flipped out once since we got together.”

I looked at him with eyes of uncertainty. “You’re telling me a woman fixed that. No more incidents?”

“Doesn’t matter what the question is,” he responded. “Having a good woman in your life is the answer. The trick is finding a good one.”

“How’s a motherfucker know if she’s good or not?”

“Doesn’t matter how good she can slob your knob, or whether or not she can put her heels beside her ears, I can tell you that much. What matters is how she makes you feel when you’re not fucking her. When she’s gone, if all you can think about is sex, she’s probably not going to last. If all you think about is being with her again, and you can’t explain why, she’s a keeper.”

I handed him my cup of coffee. “Thanks for the advice, Brother. Dump that shit in the trash, would ya?”

He gave me a funny look. “Where the fuck you going?”

“To Chula Vista,” I said.