Prodigal Son (14 page)

“I added some fresh tomato and jalapeño. That’s the way we serve it at Falling Rock, and people love it.”

Bug simply grunted, and I was actually surprised that he didn’t order me to remove it from his plate. Maybe the sleeping pill had chilled him out a little.

“Enjoy,” I said as I headed back to the kitchen for my own food.

The show on TV was about crazy people who hoard food and build shelters in their backyards to prepare for the end of the world.

“I think these people know something, and the government’s trying to cover it up,” Bug said, with his mouth full of food.

“Some cover[up,” I said. “It’s on television.”

“Like you fuckin’ know,” he snorted. “You think you’re so smart just ‘cause you’re going to college, but you ain’t got no common sense.”

I listened to Bug insult me while he chowed down on the dinner that I’d made him (and he hadn’t bothered to thank me for.)

“You just wait. I’m gonna build me a shelter, and you’ll be the first one knocking on my door, beggin’ me to take you in when things go to hell.”

I had no worries about the end of the world, and I knew for sure that Bug wasn’t actually going to get off his ass and do a fuckin’ thing about it. He’d been saying stuff like this for years, and he’d yet to lift a finger.

“Really?” I asked, knowing that I shouldn’t, but unable to stop myself. “You’re going to build a shelter? With what money?” I knew it was a mistake as soon as the words left my mouth. I never should have mentioned money.

Bug’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you asking about money?”

I hoped that I didn’t look as nervous as I felt. “Well, you’ve been bitching about how you don’t have any money, and now you’re going to start building a shelter? That just sounds a little crazy.”

Bug stood up and nearly knocked over his tray table, steadying himself on the arm of the couch. He looked a little lightheaded, and I hoped like hell that the sleeping pill was working. He walked out of the room and into the kitchen, and I could hear him open the refrigerator and pull out a beer. I hear the sound of the bottle cap hitting the counter, where I was sure he’d expect me to pick it up later, and Bug walked slowly back into the room.

“Krystal,” he said, in a low voice that gave me chills. “My money is none of your fuckin’ business. We ain’t married, and if we was, you still wouldn’t be privy to club business. You hear me?”

I wasn’t about to provoke him any further. “Yes.”

He sat back down, and I suppressed a sigh of relief. He polished off his steak and most of his salad, leaving the cornbread (which was delicious, if I did say so myself) untouched. He finished off his beer, set it on the table, and announced that he was finished.

I correctly interpreted his statement to mean that he wanted me to clear his dishes, so I left my half-eaten dinner there, while I moved his dirty dishes next to the sink.

“Want another whiskey?” I called, hoping he would.

“Yeah.”

I emptied the last of the crushed sleeping pill into the glass, added whiskey and a splash of water, and brought it to him. “You’re out of ice. Those trays don’t fill themselves.”

“Whatever,” he said, taking the glass and throwing back half of it in one long drink.

I went back into the kitchen and put the dishes I’d used in the dishwasher, leaving all of the other dirty ones right were they’d been when I walked in. I took my time, and when I’d finished up as much cleaning as I was willing to do, I tiptoed into the living room, hoping to find Bug having trouble keeping his eyes open.

Not only were his eyes closed, but his mouth was hanging open, snores starting to rival the television volume. Perfect. I could start my search.

I went over to the dining room table and reached in all of the pockets of his leather jacket that he’d thrown over one of the chairs. Nothing. I quietly went into his bedroom, where I knew he stashed his weed and cash sometimes, and I went through all of the dresser and nightstand drawers. I did find weed, but no cash.

“Goddammit,” I whispered. “Where would he have put it?”

I realized that he may have stashed the money in the saddlebags of his bike, and the thought of touching his bike without permission nearly scared me to death. If my rent money was anywhere on that bike, though, I simply had to find it.

Walking back through the living room, I was amused to see a little drool starting at the edge of Bug’s open mouth, and I hoped like hell that I had a few more minutes before he woke up. I hurried through to the kitchen and quietly let myself into the garage. The bike was there, of course, and I knew the keys would be in the ignition. I opened the saddlebags, and sure enough, there was my money. I didn’t stop to count it, but I shoved the roll of twenties into my pocket and got the hell out of the garage, remembering to close the door quietly.

Without even bothering to check to make sure Bug was okay, I grabbed my purse and headed out the door. I started my car and as I pulled away from Bug’s house, I felt scared to death and fiercely proud of myself all at the same time. I’d done it! I’d taken back what was mine and kept Bug from stealing from me and treating me like shit.

Feeling like I’d just climbed Mount Everest, I headed home, proud that my plan had worked and that I’d be able to pay my rent.

Friday, May 10, 2013

T
he first thing I thought of — even before I opened my eyes — was Krystal. I stretched, my hands and feet barely able to reach the corners of the enormous king bed, and I wondered what the chances were that I’d be waking up alone tomorrow morning. The notion of her, naked and asleep in my bed, gave me a hard-on that wouldn’t have been quite so uncomfortable if she’d been there. Since she wasn’t, I took matters into my own hands and decided to hit the hotel gym before I picked Sable up for the weed shop visits.

Just before I left, I thought to call down to the front desk and ask them to stock the refrigerator with some champagne and to send up some strawberries shortly before Krystal was supposed to arrive. If strawberries and champagne didn’t impress a girl used to hanging out with dirty bikers who sucked down Coors Light like there was no tomorrow, I didn’t know what would.

“Hey, Sable,” I called from the Jeep as she walked down the drive toward me.

“Mornin’,” she said cheerfully.

“Joker here?” I asked, since the garage door was closed.

“Oh, yeah,” she answered, clearly irritated. “I doubt he’ll be up before noon.”

“Was he out late?” I asked, already regretting have brought it up.

“Luke, that man still acts like he was in his twenties and still drinking with his Marine Corps buddies. I’m not sure if he’s ever gonna grow the fuck up and start taking better care of himself.”

I didn’t say a word. I remembered Joker’s warning to stay out of other Sons’ relationships, and I kept my mouth shut.

Sable looked over at me as she fastened her seat belt. “I can see he’s already gotten to you. That you’re learning the ‘stay out of your brother’s business’ bullshit that they all live by, but you mark my words. If that man doesn’t start taking better care of himself, he’s gonna end up in the hospital with a heart attack. He isn’t exactly a young man anymore.”

I hoped she’d change the subject, and I didn’t say anything, just letting the silence follow us out of their neighborhood. Finally, after a few miles, I decided to end the awkwardness.

“So you know both of the people we’re meeting with today?”

“Yeah. Bobby Findlay owns the first store, and we went to school together.”

“And his business is doing well?”

“When I talked to him yesterday, he said he’s making way more than when he ran his construction company, and he has a fraction of the overhead.”

I smiled and nodded, her conversation confirming what I’d heard from my friend in California. “I really think this could be the answer to the MC’s problems,” I told her. “And my ticket in.”

Sable got quiet, which I was quickly learning meant that something was wrong.

“What?” I asked, mentally bracing myself for the lecture I feared was coming.

“Luke, I know that I don’t really count as your mother since I abandoned you, but will you at least listen to me for a minute?”

“Sure.”

“Luke, even though I had nothing to do with it, I couldn’t be prouder of you and what you’ve accomplished. You have a college degree and a professional job. You wear a tie to work, for heaven’s sake. You father owns one tie, and he’s worn the same on to every funeral we’ve gone to as long as I’ve known him. And funerals aren’t that uncommon, Luke.

“You never met your cousin, Moses, but he was just a couple of years younger than you. He was smart and successful, and he’s dead now. He’d be alive if it weren’t for the Savage Sons. This club won’t be good for you, Luke. I couldn’t be happier to have met you, and I want more than anything to continue to be a part of you life, but you should go back to the life you’ve built for yourself fin Arizona. I’ll come visit, if you’ll let me, but I’m scared about what the Sons will do to you.” Sable exhaled, like she’d just gotten something off her chest that had been weighing her down.

My first instinct was to tell Sable something that would keep her from worrying, and I realized that that instinct — my tendency to be a peacemaker, to try to make everyone happy — was one of the main things that made me different from the rest of the Savage Sons. I realized that I wanted to be different, wanted to live more like the Sons did — doing what I wanted and letting the chips fall where they may. I realized that I wanted to feel like I did on the bike — wind, sun, and nothing else. All the other bullshit — what Sable thought, what the people at my job were going to say if I came back and told them I was quitting — I just needed to let it roll off my back. Let it go. That was going to be my new attitude.

“So I buy mostly female seeds from this guy up in Oregon. You know why you want female plants, right?”

Bob Findlay looked exactly like what I’d expected. He was about fifty-fifty salt and pepper, with a full head of hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. He wore a faded tie-dye t-shirt, jeans with frayed bottoms, and Birkenstocks. He was very proud of his plants.

“Yeah,” I answered. “I grew some kick-ass bud in college. I get the higher yield and no seeds thing. So how much of what you sell is your own bud?” I asked.

He’d showed us around the store — pointing out the lollipops, vaporizers, brownies, and nearly thirty varieties of marijuana — before taking us back to his house, the site of his grow operation.

“Depends,” Bob answered, bending over to smell an enormous bud. “Sometimes it’s mostly ours, and sometimes it’s not. I have a kush strain that’s been pretty hot, and when that’s around I can’t keep it in stock. When I sell out, I sometimes buy from other growers.”

Sable had been stunned by the variety of edible forms of THC-laden items for sale. “And the lollipops and gummies? You buy all of those?”

“Yeah. You see a lot of the same brands from store to store here, except for the baked goods. A lot of growers bake their own stuff, and some even partner with local bakeries. It’s turned out to be a bigger part of our business than we’d thought.”

I knew it was a far cry from growing a few plants in college to handling both the growing and the operation of the store, but I was pretty sure that with some help, I was going to be able to make it work.

“So you’re pretty friendly with the other folks who own dispensaries?” I asked.

“For the most part,” Bob answered. “There’s plenty of room for all of us to make a living. We got a few bad apples, same as any other business, but you’ll find that most of us are pretty mellow.”

I laughed and looked at Sable to see if she had any other questions.

“Bobby, we sure do appreciate your taking the time to talk to us.” Sable put her hand on Bob’s arm, and it was obvious that he was far from immune to her charms.

“Sable, honey, you know I’d do anything for you. You still married to that biker of yours?”

“Yup,” Sable answered. “Joker and I are still together. In fact, we’re gonna make this something of a family business.”

“Well, you and Luke are welcome to call me if there’s anything you need. You have a grow problem, or if you’re having trouble tracking down the seeds you want, you just let me know.”

I held out my hand. “Thanks, Bob,” I said. “It’s been helpful.”

After lunch, we headed over to THC Healing, a shop run by a woman who also owned the new age bookstore next door. We walked inside and the vibe was completely different from Bob’s store, which had a serious bud fanatic atmosphere. This second store felt more like a place you’d go to have your palms read, and I half expected to see a fortune teller emerge from the back room.

“Can I help you?”

I turned to see a tall woman who had a stuffed dragon on her shoulder.

“Sable,” she said with a huge grin, coming out from behind the counter to give Sable a hug. “You look fantastic.”

“Thanks, mama. The tea you gave me has done wonders for my hot flashes.” Sable turned to me. “Luke, this is my friend, Ellomere. She owns the shop.”

I shook the woman’s hand. “Nice to meet you. Your shop’s sure different from the other we just visited.”

Ellomere laughed, a deep and sexy sound. “We’ve positioned ourselves a little differently from other dispensaries. We focus on the healing aspects of marijuana.” She leaned a little closer. “Not that we balk at selling you a little somethin’ somethin’ just to get you high.”

I laughed with her, and I could see why Sable had wanted me to see two very different kinds of stores. “For medicinal purposes, eh?” I asked as I looked over the selection of brownies made with fair trade organic chocolate.

“You know it. One of the benefits our store has is that there’s a medical doctor next door during all of our business hours. You want to come in but don’t have a medical card? Not a problem here. A consultation fee and a few minutes puts you in business.”

Sable looked at me. “I think it would be worthwhile to find a location where we can do the same thing. Employ a doctor to be on call so that anyone who wants one can get a red card.”