Page 32 of Tito

I sipped the scotch. Despite my efforts to hide it, the fact remained.

I was in agony.

Confiding to the men in the MC about my crippling pain would be met with scrutiny. It always was. Their expectation of me always having the answers allowed them to chastise me to no end when I didn’t. This time, I didn’t have the answer. I didn’t know that there was one. Not a clear one, anyway.

Braxton and Hap were both smart-asses, but they’d become family. Their opinions differed greatly, but the advice they gave was heartfelt and solid.

I poured another glass nearly full. After handing Braxton the bottle, I took a healthy drink. “About ten years ago, we were headed to Oceanside, to an all-day biker rally. At the time, my hair was buzz-cut, like Hap’s. I knew once we got there, I’d have my helmet off all day, and I was afraid my scalp would get sunburned. So, I went to the mall to get a hat. The girl who helped me was cute. Really cute. Her skin was white, like she’d never been in the sun whatsoever. On her left wrist, she had one tattoo, a bright pink peony.”

I took another drink of the scotch, laughing to myself at my recollection of meeting her. She was energetic, quirky, and unpredictable. Keeping her focused on any one subject for longer than a few seconds was impossible. In fact, through the course of buying the hat, she changed the topic of our conversation no less than a dozen times.

While she spoke, she danced—because she couldn’t help it. Without provocation, she offered interesting tidbits about herself.

The crust of her sandwiches was eaten last and she preferred pimento spread over sliced cheeses. She feared lunchmeats and anyone who refused to make eye contact with her but didn’t fear death. Siracha was her condiment of choice, and she used it on everything from soup to nuts. She dreamed of one day being a race car driver and loved to walk along the beach, preferring to do so with someone who enjoyed it as much as she did.

We talked for twenty minutes straight, laughing as much as we spoke. I later found out the tattoo covered scars that were left from the self-inflicted wounds of her past. Sadly, there were other scars that were much deeper than the few covered by the tattoo.

“She’s the one that picked out the frowny-faced hat for me,” I said. “She said it was appropriate because it would always remind me of how she felt when she was alone. So, the entire time I was talking to her, all I could think is damn, it’s a shame she can’t go with me. I considered asking her out but felt that anyone as attractive and entertaining as she was had to be in a relationship. I decided to save myself the disappointment and bought the hat without asking her on a date. On my way out of the store, there was this blood-curdling scream from behind me. I turned around just in time to see her collapse on the floor—”

“Jesus,” Braxton said, interrupting me. “What was wrong with her?”

“A flare up from recurring stomach ulcers,” I said. “In agony, she groaned that out while her co-worker helped her to her feet. I ended up leaving for the rally while she was headed to the emergency room.”

“Damn,” he said. “Continue.”

“While I was in the parking lot putting the hat in the saddlebag, I couldn’t get her off my mind. How we didn’t even know each other, yet she made me laugh so hard my ribs hurt. Her quirky way of just blurting out whatever she was thinking. While I was wishing we would have exchanged phone numbers, this Honda Civic came speeding through the parking lot, right at me. It left four black marks across the asphalt and screeched to a sideways stop, missing me by a matter of inches. I jumped to the side and glared at the idiot driving.” I took a quick sip of scotch. “Guess what?”

Braxton grinned. “It was her?”

“It sure was,” I said with a light laugh. “She jumped out of the car, laughing so hard I thought she was crying. She didn’t have stomach ulcers. She couldn’t imagine staying at work while I was going to the rally, and a trip to the hospital was the only thing that she could think of to get off work without losing her job. She all but begged me to take her to the rally.”

“Did you take her?”

I grinned. “I did.”

He poured another glass of whisky. “Continue.”

“We had a great time,” I said. “Everyone liked her. We left the rally at about midnight and stayed out until the sun came up. Spent most of the night walking along on the beach by La Jolla, talking.”

“Sounds like a real firecracker,” Braxton said. “Where is she now?”

“She uhhm.” I downed what was left of my scotch, wincing as the whisky burned my throat. I lowered the glass and drew a deep breath before continuing. “She killed herself when she got home.”

Braxton swallowed heavily and handed me the bottle.

“Jesus, Kid,” Hap said from behind me. “I’m sorry.”

I poured another glass of whiskey and nodded. “Yeah,” I said. “Me, too.”