CHAPTER 8
It’s six o’clock on Saturday. I wake up easily, almost effortlessly even before the alarm goes off. Susie was kind enough to let me take the afternoon shift, so I could drop Dominick off at the bikers’ place. Our agreement is for him to call the diner when he’s done, and I’ll just ask Bill to let me off for an hour so I can drop him off. The cook’s there, plus Susie’s and mine shift might be still overlapping when he calls. In any case, I’m not letting him sit on that dark bike again.
Sam’s name surfaces in my mind, and I remember Susie’s story. People disappear when they get too close to the bikers. They’re criminals. But, you can’t hate them because they wash their hands with some do gooder actions in the town. A cold claw of fear taps me on the nape of my neck, just to remind me it’s there. Don’t let your guard down. Keep an eye on Dominick. They can’t be good people.
“Shit...” I whisper to myself. “Why did he have to spray paint their wall!?”
I hit the pillow with my fist angrily, knowing well that it won’t make any difference. What’s done is done. Now, I need to make Dominick’s stay with them as short as possible. And, just keep out of their way afterwards.
Figuring there is no point in lying in bed if I’m not sleeping, I get up and head over to the kitchen. I make myself some coffee, and a bowl of porridge for Dominick. Neither of us are fans, but he’s grounded. That includes eating foods that are good for him, even if he doesn’t like them.
I drink my coffee on the go, picking up stray items of clothing that couldn’t find their own way to the hamper, toys and books, too. At 6:30, I knock on his door. It takes him a while to even stir at the noise, so I go over and sit on the edge of his bed. His face is buried in the pillow, his back slowly rising then falling. I almost feel bad waking him up. But, I remember what he did, and I shake him gently.
“Hey, Dom?” I call. “Come on. It’s breakfast time. We need to get going soon.”
“No… mom… where…” he murmurs, hiding his head under the blankets.
I pull them forcefully off of him, and his eyes immediately pop open.
“Mom…” he whines again.
“Come on,” I repeat, walking out of the room.
To my surprise, he comes downstairs in 5 minutes, dressed. He glances at the clock on the kitchen wall. The look of puzzlement and confusion washes over his still drowsy face.
“Why so early?” he wonders, covering his mouth as he yawns. “Didn’t Mason say he’ll pick me up at 8?”
“You’re not going with that man,” I reply calmly, placing the bowl on the table. “I’m driving you, remember?”
He frowns, but doesn’t say anything.
“So, we need to get going well before 8,” I explain.
He takes only a few bites of the porridge, claiming he’s not hungry. Instead, he grabs a banana, so I let it go. I’ve got other cares on my mind today. If he doesn’t want more breakfast, so be it. He’s not a baby. Sometimes, I need to remind myself of that. He needs to be allowed to make his own mistakes, but it’s so gosh darn hard to let him.
“You ready?” I ask him around 7:30.
We both head over to the car, and he explains where I need to drive. He’s silent during the ride, but that’s not unusual for him.
“Try to end it as soon as you can, OK?” I ask him, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than I usually do.
I’m jumpy and on edge, and I know exactly why. But, I want those bikers to see that my boy has someone who will look out for him, no matter what. I’m scared, and I can feel my heart in my heels, urging me turn the car around and just tell them to go fuck themselves with their plan, but I know I can’t. Dominick needs to learn his lesson. And, apparently, it’s not a good idea to tell those guys to go fuck themselves.
We get there before 8. I get out of the car first, Dominick quickly after. I scan the place as we walk over to the door. It’s an old house, but with promise. If someone renovated it, it could be a real gem. But, none of the people I see there look interested in interior design. Harley bikes are parked to the side, dripping trails of motor oil leading all the way to the doors. Like a breadcrumb trail. So they wouldn’t lose their bikes, I suppose. I want to chuckle to myself, but I suppress the desire.
My hand firmly grips Dom’s shoulder, as I feel the burning gazes of those around us. Do they even know why we’re here? Dom seems more at ease. In a way, that makes me glad. He’s the one who will need to stay here, after all.
We reach the door, but before I can reach for the handle, I hear a voice behind us.
“Hey, lady! Can I help you?”
I turn around. The voice belongs to a young man, maybe not even twenty. He’s only wearing a pair of jeans. His upper body is naked and covered in tattoos. He’s scrawny, but muscular. I try to focus on his face, even though he’s too far away for me to see him properly.
“I’m looking for Mason,” I say, as confidently as I can.
He grins looking at the guy next to him, then whispers something to him. They both stare at me again, and chuckle loudly. I swallow heavily, feeling my hands getting clammy. These are the people I need to leave my kid with? Is this a fucking joke?
At that moment, I’m determined to leave and never come back. Mason can really go fuck himself. I take Dominick by the hand, his is cold but dry, and I turn to leave, but the sound of the opening door stops me.
“You’re early,” I hear the voice that makes my heart skip a beat, as I turn around. I know my cheeks are burning red, but I won’t be made fun of. “I like that. But, wasn’t I supposed to send someone for the kid?”
At the sound of those words, Dominick lets go of my hand. I feel my fingers trembling, deserted like that, in thin air, but I see he’s not afraid. My boy is not afraid.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you or anyone here to be driving my child,” I speak slowly, trying to sound dignified and full of self-confidence. Whether I actually managed to do that, is a whole different affair. “These bikes are way too dangerous for a child. So, I’ll be driving him here and back home, when you’re done.”
I feel his stare on me, like I’m naked. I want him to stop looking at me that way, but I don’t say anything. I just endure it.
“I see,” Mason nods, leaning onto the doorway, casually.
His shirt is half-unbuttoned, and he’s barefoot, in jeans. Little dark hairs emerge out of his shirt, covering his chest. His beard is bushier than last time, his hair curlier, darker. Everything about him seems more overpowering in broad daylight. For a moment, he reminds me of Captain Ahab, the one who kept going against Nature, in an effort to catch the elusive white whale. Unfortunately, that didn’t end that well for him.
“I hope we can agree on that,” I round up my little monologue.
“I don’t see why not?” he shrugs with a smile.
For a moment, I can’t connect this guy to anything bad everyone claims the bikers are involved in. I mean, how? He doesn’t look like he has a single crooked bone in his body. He looks like those rich playboys who only care about sex and money. He’s just not dressing the part, but he sure acts it. Then, I remember how that guy in the diner jumped up when Mason called. He just called. Nothing else. No threats. No intimidation. Just a simple order was enough. Not even said in a raised voice.
“Also, I’d like to stay here, while my son is with you” I add.
“What?” Dominick turns to me. “Mom, no...”
“I’m not leaving you alone with these… men.”
I look up defiantly at Mason, but he seems simply amused by this. Far from annoyed.
“If the kid’s OK with that…” he shrugs again, as if he doesn’t care the least bit.
“Mom,” Dominick hisses at me, pulling me to the side. “What are you doing?”
I bend down a little as he talks, and I know we look ridiculous. I’m making my son look ridiculous, but I can’t help it. It’s what moms do. They make their kids look ridiculous with their behavior and they also keep their kids safe.
“Just go,” he orders me. “I’ll be fine.”
I sense the desperation in his voice. He wants me gone. I’m cramping his style. I remember what it was like to be a girl, wanting to impress those older than me. But, these are the wrong kind of people to impress, and I want him to be fully aware of that. He’s staying only until this job is done, and then we’re keeping away from them. The last thing I want is to be put in the same basket with some criminals.
“You don’t know these people, Dom,” I whisper, placing my hands on his shoulder protectively.
“If they wanted to hurt me, they would have done it already, no?” he asks me, and it hits me that he’s right.
People know my son is there now. What can they do to him? Apart from making him pay off the damages through painting, nothing. I bite my lower lip in helplessness. I don’t want to leave him here, but it looks like I’ll have to. I’m fuming mad. However, I don’t show it.
“Fine,” I whisper again, clenching the words through bared teeth. “But, if you need help, or anything, call me at the diner, alright?”
“Yeah,” he nods, and I see that he feels even more embarrassed.
Together, we return to Mason. He has a victorious look on his face, as if things ended up exactly the way he wanted them to, and he didn’t have to lift a single finger to do it. I want to wipe that smug smirk off his face, but what can I do?
“When should I come back to pick him up?” I ask, politely. There’s no point in making enemies of these people. At least, not while I’m in the position of leaving my son with them, unsupervised.
“No idea,” Mason shrugs again, and I swear, I want to punch him in the face. One can take only so much shrugging in 5 minutes’ time. “When it starts to get dark?”
“Fine,” I hiss. “I’ll pick him up a little after 7.”
“Sure thing,” Mason nods.
I look at Dominick. I want to wrap my arms around him, to tell him that everything will be alright. He’s still my little boy. All I’ve ever done and will do is for him to be safe. But, I don’t hug him. Instead, I just squeeze his right shoulder, smile at him, then turn around and walk back over to the car. When I look in their direction again, there is no sign of either Dominick or Mason. The rest of the bikers went back to their business, whatever it is.
Suppressing a bout of tears, I step on the gas pedal and rush back home. It’s hard to look through the windshield when you’ve got eyes full of tears, so I try to calm myself down. I guess it’s just one of those things that is bound to happen. Kids grow up. They don’t want their parents around as often as before. But, that doesn’t mean that I can stop worrying.
I stop by a small store to get some water. I see a book by the register. It’s an old Agatha Christie novel, in cheap paperback version. I add it to my bill. Books have always been my go to when I needed to unwind and de-stress. Now, with work and everything, it’s been increasingly hard to fit some reading time into my hectic schedule, but I figured this would be a good time to start. It might take my mind off of everything, and calm me down a little.