Page 52 of Misguided
It was near on dusk when Johnny and I arrived at the rendezvous point all those months ago. We had to sit on the side of the highway, tucked behind a bank of scrubby bushes, and wait for over an hour before the guy showed up late to take me on to what I subsequently learned would be a trailer in the woods.
So we passed the time playing Tic-Tac-Toe in the dust. We were six apiece when the guy rolled up in his weathered gold Cadillac.
I grin as Johnny stands and dusts the crumbs of tobacco from his hands. He lights his cigarette, letting it bob between his lips as he talks. “Flip a coin to see who has the first move.”
“Heads,” I call as he tosses a quarter in the air.
The slap of his hand echoes off the front wall of the house as he peels the edge of his palm back. “Tails.”
“Shoot.” He usually wins when he starts.
And this time is no different. I laugh as he scrubs our game into the dust, his chains rattling as he sweeps his thick leg left and right.
“What’s on the cards for you, Mel, now that you’re home?” He heads up the porch steps and retakes his seat.
I lean against the railing and shrug. “Not sure, to be honest.”
I never had to think too much on what I’d do, always directed by Daddy or Hooch. But without my brother here, Crackers doesn’t have the same tendency to give me a task to complete or even some direction on what needs to be done around the place.
The picture upstairs sticks in my mind. “When was the last time the Aces held a rally?”
Johnny snorts, running the heel of his boot over a knot in the wood. “Not since way before you went away, girl. There’s been too much goin’ down for anyone to even think of having the club together in one place like sittin’ ducks.”
A smile creeps across my lips. “But that’s all over now, right? Now that Carlos is gone?”
“It’s not as bad, nope.” He narrows his eyes on me, chin tipped high. “What you thinkin’, girl?”
“That it’s about time this place did something to lift everyone’s spirits.”
I know I’m not alone in feeling beaten down and oppressed by recent events. One look at the people around me when I walked in the door yesterday told me everything I needed to know about what a toll this past year has taken on the club.
It’s about time we remembered what it was that drew each of us to this life.
It’s about time we held our middle fingers high and said fuck you to the things that want to keep us miserable and in the dark.
We are what we make of ourselves—a lesson I could take stock of too.
“You’ve got that look in your eye,” Johnny says with an amused smirk.
“What one would that be?” I duck my chin coyly at him.
“The kind a woman gets before she’s about to go stir shit up.”
I chuckle. “You might be right, there, Johnny boy.”
He smiles, leaning back in the wicker chair he occupies. “That your dad’s jacket?” He jerks his chin toward the beaten old leather.
“Yeah.” I look down at it, my palms hot against the cool hide as I clutch the hem in my hands. “I don’t know why I put it on really.”
He winks at me, his weathered and tanned skin crinkling at the corner of his eye. “Because you miss him, darlin’.”
Yeah. As much as the stubborn old fool drove me crazy, I do miss him and his meddling ways. We butt heads, had some dust-ups over the course of our time together, but there was one thing our differences could never take away: he was my daddy.
And I’m always gonna be my daddy’s little girl.