1990, thirty-one years old
As I refueled my bike at a gas station outside of Albuquerque, Jackson walked up, bringing the smell of sweat, unfounded anger, tobacco, and teenage sexual tension with him. I fought not to groan. My headache had just disappeared.
“What do you want?”
Jackson pushed a wad of tobacco from his lip to his cheek. “You’re to meet a guy at a café in Albuquerque.”
“Why isn’t Billy telling me this?”
He stretched his long, thin arms behind his back and popped his joints. “Because you’re going to follow me there.”
I heard the gas spill over as soon as I smelled it.
“Fuck,” I said pulling out the nozzle and thrusting it into the holder. Jackson laughed. That shithead had distracted me so much I hadn’t been paying attention to how high the gas level was in the tank. The gas pooled around my feet, staining my boots with its iridescent oils.
I sneered. “To hell I am. Tell me where to go and I’ll figure it out.”
He moved closer to me and put his hands on the back of my bike’s seat as I screwed the nozzle onto the gas tank.
“You know Billy won’t allow that. Besides you could get lost—”
“You mean leave,” I interrupted.
He shrugged. “Whatever. It’s the way Billy wants it.”
“We’ll see about that.” Jackson moved out of the way when I swung my leg over the seat and kick-started the engine. I drove to an empty parking spot, parked the bike, and went in search of Billy. I found him looking at the packaged doughnut selection inside the gas station.
“Hey,” I said. He didn’t respond. “Me and Jackson riding together is not going to work. Find somebody else to take me to the café.”
Billy leaned forward and grabbed the cinnamon-powdered doughnuts. He looked them over in his hand.
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not? It doesn’t matter who does it.”
Billy walked past me toward the checkout counter.
“It does. Jackson’s going to take over Dodge’s old route, and he needs to know who to meet and where.”
I rolled my eyes. Could this ride get worse?
“Fine but tell him to keep his fucking distance.”
Billy chuckled and glanced at me sideways. “What, Raqi? You scared you gone catch feelings for old Jack again? Things ain’t all paradise with your colored boy?”
At that moment, Billy stepped up to the checkout counter. The cashier was a Black woman. I didn’t know if she had heard him, but I felt my face get hot from Billy’s words.
“Don’t say shit like that to me,” I said.
Billy grumbled something under his breath, but I couldn’t make it out.
I glanced at the woman who tried not to look at us as she rang up Billy’s items. I grimaced and walked away.
Billy’s racist remark wasn’t the only thing that had pissed me off. His mention of Trevor hit a little too close to home. I hadn’t spoken to him since I’d left. I could go days without speaking to Trevor, but Trevor wouldn’t like that at all. It wasn’t that he was the jealous type. Trevor was the kind of person who genuinely worried about the people he cared for. We were very different in that regard. I found a pay phone outside and dialed Trevor’s work number.
The phone rang and rang as my stomach twisted in knots. His assistant Nancy answered, “Smith and Associates. This is Trevor Johnson’s line.”
“Let me talk to Trevor.” I didn’t like Nancy. She was one of those LA girls who arrived eight months ago from the Midwest hoping to make it as an actor. Instead of going on casting calls, she went to clubs on Sunset to convince coked out agents and casting directors to give her a big break.
“One minute, Ms. Warren,” Nancy said before she put me on hold. I wanted to punch her in the face for refusing to call me Raqi.
My heart sped up a bit and I shuffled nervously as the hold music played.
“What the hell, Raqi?” Trevor said as he picked up the call.
I cringed. “I know, I know.”
“You didn’t call last night. I don’t know where you’re at or what you’re doing with Billy’s gang—”
“Club.”
“What?”
“Nothin’.”
Trevor sighed. “See. You’re starting to sound like them.”
“God, I know, Trev. I’m sorry, shit.” I looked behind me hoping none of the Lawless were around to hear, then cursed myself for even caring what they thought.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“Outside of Albuquerque.”
“And you’ll be gone for how long?”
I sighed. “Another seven days—”
“What? Are you serious?”
I groaned. “Look, I know. It’s bullshit. But this is it—after this, I’m done. Free. They’re going to be out of my life. It’s not like I have a choice—”
“Bullshit, Raqi.” Trevor was not usually harsh. I winced. “You have a damn choice. You choose to give into them. You’re never going to be fully rid of the Lawless until you put your foot down.”
I hadn’t told Trevor about my grandfather. Why, I wasn’t sure. Maybe I wanted something for myself. Or perhaps, I was scared that if I told anyone back home about my grandfather, it would make it too real, too hopeful. If something happened and Billy really didn’t have the address, or I couldn’t find my grandfather, then the disappointment wouldn’t hurt as bad. And perhaps I wouldn’t seem as pathetic for believing a criminal like Billy.
I rubbed my forehead. “I’m sorry, Trev. I’ll make it up to you when I return.”
He sighed, and I felt the cold breath of disappointment against my cheek. “Sure.” He was shutting down, which meant he was pretty pissed off. Shit.
“I have to go. I’ll call you tomorrow,” I said.
“If you say so.”
I needed to pull out the big guns. “Bye, love you.”
I thought I heard him say, “You too,” before there was a click and then dead air, a silence roaring in my ear, bringing on another headache.