Chapter 14 – Ink
INK
When we walked into Irene’s for dinner, the place was filled with more Blackwings members than usual. We walked over to the table where Dice and Edge were sitting. “Did I miss a memo?” I asked, only partially joking.
“Nah, I think we all had the same idea,” Edge said. “Do you want to join us? We can pull up another table.”
I turned to Presley. “It’s up to you.”
“It’s fine with me,” she said. “But, um, what idea did everyone have?”
“Macy was attacked in the parking lot across the street. Even though it was an isolated event, the brothers are here to send a message,” I explained.
“I’m sure Phoenix has some of the younger members and prospects scattered around the area keeping an eye on things, but Macy is the VP’s wife, so it’s not surprising the others are here. ”
“Why are they here if it happened across the street?”
“She was picking up lunch and had to park across the street because this lot was full. Irene rents a portion of the lot across the street for overflow parking because this place is always packed during peak hours.”
After we took our seats, I introduced Presley and Ariel. “You know Dice, but I don’t think you’ve met Edge. He lives across the street from me, and his Old Lady is part owner of the diner. Oh, speak of the devil, here she is. Evie, this is Presley and her daughter Ariel.”
“Hey,” Evie smiled. “What can I get y’all to drink?” After she took our orders, she directed her attention to Presley. “If it slows down some, I’ll swing back by so we can talk. I’ve been wanting to meet you. I’ll be right back with your drinks.”
Presley grinned. “Have you been talking about me?”
I shrugged. “Maybe a little.”
“Y’all got room for two more?” Walter asked as he and Buck approached our table.
“Of course,” Dice said and gestured to the empty chairs.
“I told you he wouldn’t turn away his future father-in-law,” Buck said. “Or is he your future father-in-law?” he asked and pointed at me.
I chuckled and shook my head. “This is the thanks I get for being a good friend.”
“This sounds like a good story,” Ariel said.
“Oh, hello there,” Buck said. “I’m Buck, and this old grump here is Walter.”
“Hi, I’m Ariel, and this is my mom, Presley.”
“It’s nice to meet you both. You must be friends of Ink’s,” he said.
“Yes, they are,” I confirmed.
“So, what’s this story?” Presley asked.
I groaned. “Dice wanted to propose to Daphne before London was born, but London decided to arrive the day he was planning to do it. When they got to the hospital, Dice got sick and had to have his appendix removed. After his surgery, he still wanted to propose, so I got down on one knee and presented the ring to Daphne while he asked the question.”
“That’s really sweet,” Presley said.
“That’s what I’m saying, but these two bring it up every chance they get.”
“We wouldn’t tease you if we didn’t like you,” Walter said. “I heard you and my daughter had an interesting evening last night.”
I laughed. “She got the shit end of that stick.” Even though most of the people at the table already knew what happened, I told the story again anyway.
“How is London today?” Presley asked.
“She’s better,” Dice said. “Daphne took her to the doctor this morning, and they said it was probably a virus. She’s been a little cranky and really clingy, but she hasn’t thrown up or had any other explosive incidents.”
The conversation died down when Evie arrived with our food. It was always like that at Irene’s. The food was too good to waste time talking.
As we were leaving the diner, Presley asked a question that made me pause. “Do police officers have codes to override home alarm systems like they do for gated neighborhoods?”
“No, they don’t. At least not with any of Judge’s systems,” I said and chose my next words carefully. “Is there a reason you’re asking?”
“Yeah. That detective made me uncomfortable,” she admitted, far easier than I expected.
I made a show of yawning. “You know, it’s been a long day, and I’m pretty tired. Maybe I could take a short nap on your couch before going home.”
Presley quietly chuckled to herself. “If you’re that tired, you might as well just spend the night.”
“Is that an invitation? I don’t want to impose or be accused of inviting myself over.”
“What do you think, Ariel? Should we let Ink crash on the couch?”
“I don’t think we should let him crash on his way home, if that’s what you’re asking,” Ariel said. At Presley’s gasp of surprise, Ariel added, “See. I listen to your safety talks.”
“Clearly, I forgot to mention the part about not using my wisdom against me,” Presley said.
“Oh, look. We’re home,” Ariel said, pretending to ignore Presley’s last words.
“Are you really ready to go to bed?” Ariel asked once we were inside.
“I’m not sure how to answer,” I said. “This feels like it could be a setup.”
“It might be,” she said.
“How so?”
Presley looked at her daughter. “What are you thinking?”
Ariel responded with, “Mrrrow!”
“Yes!” Presley shouted and clapped her hands together.
“Will you watch Don’t Fuck With Cats with us?” they asked in unison, which was borderline creepy.
“What happens if I say yes?”
“You have to watch the entire documentary,” Presley said.
“And?”
“And tell us when the bad parts are over so we can open our eyes,” Ariel said.
“And what’s this documentary about?”
“A guy posted videos of himself doing horrific things to cats, and the internet hunted him down,” Presley said.
“You want me to watch graphic animal cruelty so you don’t have to? Is that right?” I asked.
“Almost. We want you to watch that part, so we can watch the internet get pissed and win,” Presley said.
“If it’s not triggering content for you,” Ariel added. “It is for me and Mom.”
“Fine,” I sighed overdramatically. “I guess. But there better be popcorn or equally delicious snacks.” I didn’t exactly want to watch someone hurt animals, but I could handle watching it, especially in the context they were describing.
“We just ate,” Presley said.
“Yes, but I’m a stress eater.”
I woke with the feeling that someone was staring at me. Slowly opening my eyes, I almost screamed when I saw Sir Pickles von Gherkin inches from my face, staring at me with a look of displeasure.
“Presley!” I yelled, hoping to wake her without scaring her. When I got no response, I yelled her name a bit louder. “Presley!”
My loud voice must have upset Sir Pickles von Gherkin, because he lifted his head and opened his mouth as he puffed a very dark beard at me.
“Ariel!” I shouted. “Presley! I’m in a bit of a pickle here!”
“Ink?” Presley called, sounding too far away. “What’s going on out there?”
“Nothing to be scared of. Just an angry-looking dragon sitting on my chest, staring at me. Are you sure he doesn’t bite?”
“No, he doesn’t bite,” Presley assured me, the sound of her voice getting closer.
“He’s moving,” I said urgently. “What? What are you doing? He’s wiggling.
Why is he wiggling? Oh, fuck! He bloody shat on me.
Sweet mother, that’s foul. Like really foul.
You’re gonna have to hurry. I’m cool with a lot of shit, but this is …
holy shit, Presley! Your daughter’s pet dragon has shit a mound so big it’s lifted his ass higher than his head. ”
“Sir Pickles!” Ariel scolded and carefully plucked her dragon from his new throne. “I’m so sorry, Ink. He’s never gotten out of his enclosure before.”
“Does he always shit that much? Seriously, what are you feeding him?”
“He has a salad every day and bugs twice a week,” Ariel said.
“Ah, fiber. That explains it.”
“Let me get that before you try to get up,” Presley said and snatched the massive mound of lizard poop from my chest in one swift move. Seconds later, she held up a knotted plastic bag.
“How did you do that?” I asked as I held my shirt away from my chest and got to my feet.
“Nurse skills,” she said. “If you’ll give me your shirt, I’ll toss it in the wash.” I carefully pulled my shirt over my head and handed it to Presley.
“I’m really sorry, Ink,” Ariel said again.
“No worries, kiddo. You didn’t shit on me. But if you ever do, I’ll expect more than a simple apology. Food would be a good start.”
“Got it. I can shit on you, and all will be forgiven if I bring you Rocky Mountain oysters.”
I laughed. “You’re clever. I’ll be more specific next time.”
“What is happening right now?” Presley asked.
“I’m giving your kid shit about giving me shit,” I said and reached for my keys. “I think I have another shirt in my truck. I’ll be right back.”
Before I could take a single step, the doorbell rang.
“Are you expecting anyone?” I whispered to Presley.
“No,” she whispered back and shook her head.
“Stay there. Check the cameras,” I said and moved toward the door with one hand on the handle of the gun tucked into the back of my jeans. I vaguely heard a phone ringing somewhere in the distance.
Peeking out the window, I audibly sighed with relief when I saw Presley’s parents standing on her front porch. “It’s your parents,” I said and opened the door.
“How often do you stare at your phone while we’re calling?” Alice asked, her voice slightly echoing.
“Mom!” Presley gasped. “Are you live streaming?”
“Yes,” she said as if Presley should have known. “But I’m beginning to think you forgot.”
“No, I didn’t forget,” Presley said and gestured for her parents to come in. “I assumed we weren’t doing it, you know, because your leg is broken. Why didn’t you say anything yesterday?”
“Because she forgot,” Eugene chuckled and moved to the far side of the room. I assumed he was the one live streaming by the way he was holding his phone.
“I didn’t forget about the class,” Alice huffed. “But I did forget to remind you yesterday. You know I recently bumped my head on the side of a mountain while I was fighting off a coyote.”
“Yes, I do, which is why I thought you’d want to reschedule our self-defense class.”
“No, this is the best time to learn. When I’m injured and vulnerable,” Alice explained.
“Sorry to interrupt,” I said. “Where are you taking this class?”
“The new gym off of Harrison Street,” Presley answered.
“I can’t promise anything on such short notice, but if you can give me a few minutes, I might be able to arrange a private self-defense class taught by professionals who train MMA fighters,” I said.
“If not, me and some of the brothers will teach you. We can use the gym at the clubhouse. I promise it will be better than anything you’ll get from a commercial facility. ”
“Oh! Yes, please! Take your time,” Alice said excitedly. “It’ll take Presley more than a few minutes to get ready.”
“Mom!” Presley sounded slightly horrified as she stared at her phone. “Who’s monitoring your comments?”
“Miles is. Why?” Alice asked and looked down at her phone. “Oh! He’s been trying to call. What’s going on?”
“Nothing major,” Presley said. “Just Ink’s new fan club is starting in my living room.”
“I’m sorry, what?” I blurted.
“Might want to put a shirt on,” Eugene said. “I learned that one the hard way.”
Alice nodded in agreement. “One time, I was showing my followers my garden. Well, I didn’t know Eugene was out there putting up my new trellis.
Shirtless. I’m telling you. I had to make my claim known.
I don’t know what your generation says. But I had to threaten to spray mine with the water hose if they came knocking on my man’s door. ”
Presley clapped her hands together. “Okay. So, Ink is going to put a shirt on and make some phone calls while Ariel and I get ready. Please refrain from sharing additional stories about my dad and the women lusting after him until we’ve left the room.”
“Right. If you’ll excuse me, I think I have an extra shirt in my truck,” I said.
“What happened to the one you were wearing?” Alice asked.
“Sir Pickles got out of his enclosure and pooped on Ink’s chest,” Ariel told her.
Alice’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “Say no more. Welcome to a club no one wants to be in.”
“Awesome. We should make shirts,” I said.
“We should,” Alice agreed. “A Bearded Dragon Pooped on Me, or something like that. We could put a picture of Sir Pickles on it, since he’s the one responsible for this idea.
” Alice looked down at her phone. “Miles says we’re getting a lot of comments from followers wanting to buy a T-shirt.
I suppose we could do something like that and donate the proceeds to a bearded dragon rescue. What do you guys think?”
“Wow,” I said. “I need to be careful what I say around you.”
“And wear,” Alice laughed.
“And that’s my cue,” I said and headed for my truck.
It took me a few minutes, but I finally found an old T-shirt crammed in the storage underneath the back seat. Then I got into the front and called Bronze.