Chapter 19
EMILIO
“I FUCKING LOVE MY brOTHER! BADASS OF THE YEAR!” I scream into the wind. The helmet doesn’t have our usual comms, but it doesn’t matter. It’s still fucking awesome! “YOU TALKIN’ TO ME?!?!”
I’m so stoked, I yell that at every person we pass until he pulls up to a red light. A dog hangs out the window of their car and starts barking at me.
“WATCH THIS, MAS!”
I start barking back. Really getting into it with the flame red mohawk on my red and yellow helmet bobbing in my eyes.
It’s long as fuck. Super killer when we’re speeding down the road.
But sitting here, it’s almost in my eyes.
The dog goes berserk. Lunging out the window with a damn death threat.
The driver scowls at me. I shoot him a peace sign and keep on barking.
A chick in the passenger seat stretches to reach the dog’s collar to yank him back. Then the window starts to glide up.
Mas guns it.
The sidecar wobbles like a fucking getaway car. I throw my head back, my arms out, and scream at the sky. Life is fucking beautiful. Riding with my bro, about to meet up with my brothers. Everything is so damn perfect right now.
We take the corner hard. My cast sticks out like a missile. A dude on a scooter sees it and almost wipes out. I salute him like the patriot I am. He gives me a crazy look. I get that shit all the time. It’s chill.
A few more reckless turns, Mas flashes me a wide smile.
This is the shit we both needed. He came home after dropping her off and pounded down half a case of beers and pigged out on the burgers and dogs he made.
We caught up on some Sox highlights. Made us both smile.
Hopefully, they won’t suck the rest of the season.
Try and make it into the postseason without shitting the bag.
Whatever.
He was pretty torn up.
I was sad too. Didn’t even jerk off last night.
I wish it were because my balls were drained.
Truth is, Sof was locked in my mind. Her dark eyes stare at my hand every time it drifted toward my chubby.
Heard her scolding me in my head, to sleep, not pull on my monkey.
She never did say that, but it felt like she did.
He disappeared for a couple of hours when Ryan came over.
Gave me shit for not being showered and shaved when he arrived.
Dude yakking it up like a chick about morning routines.
5 am gym workout, meal prep, and other bullshit.
I glared at him before aiming the gaming console at his head.
Still beat his ass at Call of Duty. He truly sucks at the game. Said he’s not a big gamer.
No shit, Ryan.
Anyway, Mas honks. Ryan smiles and gets my ass out of my chair. Can’t convince me they weren’t in on this plan together. But damn if the surprise didn’t slap. So happy that I dragged my cast like a three-legged dog over to the sidecar to fall in it.
I fucking love it. I love this stupid bike. I love my brother. I love being alive.
Southie traffic opens up, and there they are. My brothers. The trio clustered together in the parking lot. Dom’s black bike cuts sharply in the sunshine. Holli’s Ducati gleams obnoxiously bright. He fucking loves the attention that cheer brings. Such a pussy.
My man Diego is leaning back with that calm Hawaiian swagger like he’s the ocean in human form. Chill, lowkey, and an overall good dude. They turn in unison when they see us. Mas hits the curb, and I almost bounce out. Grabbing the sides and holding the fuck on.
Dom’s visor snaps toward me. He jolts so violently that he almost drops his bike. Both feet slam to the ground. The helmet is yanked off.
“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!” he’s already yelling when we’re pulling in. “YOU LOOK LIKE A GODDAMN MCDONALD’S HAPPY MEAL!”
His stare rakes down the red-and-yellow Aprilia, the oversized matching sidecar, my flame mohawk helmet, and the giant leg cast sticking out like an uneaten fry.
“And it even COMES with the FUCKING CLOWN!”
Holli folds over his tank, laughing, helmet dangling from his handlebars. Diego does that deep, chesty Hawaiian laugh like he’s watching the funniest shit he’s seen all year.
“Kokami!”
His favorite word.
Everyone is crying like a little bitch. Makes me even happier to be alive. I throw double gun hands up at Dominic, who’s actually smiling for once. And looking creepy as fuck doing it.
“YOU TALKIN’ TO ME, DOMMY DARKO? HUH?! YOU TALKIN’ TO ME?!”
Dom storms closer, boots thudding, circles the sidecar like it personally offended him. Stops. Points at the bright yellow stripe.
“This is the Hamburglar’s getaway car.”
Hollister wheezes. Diego wipes tears from his eyes. I slap the sidecar proudly.
“This shit’s FIRE. You’re a jealous bitch, Darko Dommy, wanting your own.”
Dom stares at me, shaking his head. Mas comes around to hug him.
Tight with a hard back slap. Shit went down with them.
I don’t know too much, but I guess he wasn’t around much in the early hospital days.
Holli and Diego straightened his ass out.
It’s all good. Probably better by the way Mas drapes his arm over Dominic’s shoulder.
Holding him close. And surprise, surprise, Darko Dommy doesn’t pull away. Not immediately.
“If you crash in this, we’re letting you die,” Dom grumbles.
Mas slaps Dom’s chest once before letting him go.
“Hell already rejected him, so here he is.”
This is the first time my brother has joked about what happened. It’s good. Relief in his face and shoulders. He needs today as much as I do. Maybe more.
I cup my hands around my mouth. “LOVE YOU TOO, GRIMACE!”
Dom flips me off, then walks back to his bike without looking back.
Perfect fucking day.
Diego and Holli walk side by side. Both are sizing me up. I’m still the hottest of the group. My road rash will scar over and make me look like a fucking super villain. I can’t wait to see the scars from my screws and shit in my leg. My limp might have more swagger than Diego’s.
“WHAT’S UP, BITCHES!”
I try to stand up, fall on my ass. My brother jumps into action to help me and my crutches out. I yank off my helmet and toss it on the seat. Once my foot hits the pavement, Diego’s hugging the shit out of me. Getting all sentimental and stuff.
“Looking good, Em.”
I hug him right back because why not? He’s my brother, and sometimes you just need to hug things out. He claps me on the back a couple of times, shakes me, and finally lets go.
“Glad to see your ass is keeping up with the therapy like we talked about.”
Like I have a choice. My babysitter, as Mas calls him, doesn’t let me skip. Even if I wipe the gaming floor with his face. Diego steps back, Holli steps forward. Hugs me even tighter. I expect this from him. He’s a sloppy dude. Always teary-eyed and shit. He kisses the side of my head.
“You scared all of us. Glad you’re okay, Em.”
Diego sniffles. He’ll deny it, but I heard that shit. Holli finally pulls back.
“Seriously,” he whispers, forehead bumping into mine, “Don’t do that shit again.”
I grin, because what else am I supposed to do?
“Bro, can’t promise that. You’ve met me.”
Mas groans. Muttering something about giving him a heart attack. Holli shakes his head and hugs me again. The kind of full-body squeeze as if I died. He lets go, steps back, just enough to look at my cast. The sidecar and then me. Long enough to mean something.
He gestures at the red-and-yellow clown-mobile behind me.
“So uh, what’s the deal with this? Where did you guys get this thing?”
Mas steps forward. “A buddy of mine. The one that we got the bikes from. This is his.”
For a sec, the four of us stare at it. Dom is already back on his bike. Vaping and smashing buttons on his cell. Probably talking to his lady, whom Mas pointed out on television one night. She’s hot as fuck. I get why he’s banging her. Who wouldn’t? But why is she banging his grumpy ass?
No idea.
“Are we riding or are you guys just going to stand around with your dicks in your hand jacking to the McDonald’s bike?”
Dom’s bike is already rumbling. Glaring at us over his phone in his hand. So over this. I lift my chin and cup my hands around my mouth again.
“HEY DOMMY DARKO, YOU WANT FRIES WITH THAT ATTITUDE?”
He doesn’t even look at me, just flips me off again. I try to shake my ass and almost bust it on the ground. Diego loses it, laughing and walking away. Holli wipes tears from his eyes, shaking his head.
“You’re insane, Em.”
“Certified,” I tell him proudly. Mas steadies me with this annoyed tenderness he’ll deny until he dies.
“Get in before Dom leaves your clown ass behind,” he mutters and grabs me by the back of my shirt before I can climb in the sidecar wrong and break my other leg.
“Be sure to buckle his dumb ass in,” Holli calls over his shoulder, heading to his bike. “One head injury is enough for him.”
Ah, the shit they give me. It’s so damn perfect, I almost get tears in my eyes. Almost. Mas will always be my twin, but these guys are my brothers. Love them, even that dark Batman Dom. I know he loves me back, he’s just terrible at showing it.
Mas hands me the helmet to put on while he buckles me in tighter than a flight attendant on a plane. He loves me. Engines rumble around us. The Aprilia starts vibrating into my ribs. Annoying pain, but whatever. This feels more normal than anything since the accident.
My brother swings onto the bike. Grips the bars and mutters something about babysitting my “unstable, unbalanced, unhinged ass.” Adorable. Really warms my heart.
Dom takes off, done with my bullshit. His bike cuts through traffic like he’s allergic to sharing space with humans.
Hollister’s behind him, blonde hair curling out the bottom of his helmet.
The golden boy. Diego’s last, shifting with his bad back, but still looking like a phantom villain in his all-black clothing.
Wouldn’t be Diego if he weren’t wearing black.
Mas revs once, checks that I haven’t died yet, then tips us into motion.
The sidecar jerks violently, steadies, jerks again, like it’s throwing a tantrum. I pat the exterior.
“Relax, boo,” I tell it. “Daddy’s got you.”
Mas’s helmet snaps toward me.
Telepathic judgment.
We merge into the street, and the wind hits my face so hard I make a noise, sounding like a dying goose. My cast sticks out french fry style. People stare. I wave. Without comms in my helmet, I’m out here raw-dogging the highway with my thoughts.
Mas gains on the group. Puts up at the front, behind Darko Daddy Dom. His hand keeps throwing up signals that no one follows. Bored, I reach into the glovebox. Mas slammed it earlier, but persistence is my brand. I pull out a paper map.
“LIFE IS A HIGHWAY,” I scream, sign and unfold it dramatically. “GONNA RIDE IT ALL NIGHT—”
The wind rips it out of my hands. Slaps Diego on the helmet, causing him to wobble. He reaches up to throw it off his visor. Then it rockets past Holli, who swerves to avoid it. Both shoot me the finger. Whatever.
I dig around again.
Find a small busted-ass foam finger that says #1 DAD. I pop that baby on and start waving it around.
“WE’RE NUMBER ONE AT BEING NUMBER TWO!”
Mas twists around just enough to glare.
I fully commit and scream even louder. “I’M NUMBER ONE, MAS IS NUMBER TWO.”
He revs the engine in warning. I stop screaming but use the foam finger to mimic the signs that Dom’s throwing out. The city falls away. The road stretches out. Long and straight with little traffic. Even the cool Boston skyline fades into neighborhoods and nothingness. Gets me thinking about Mas.
Last night, he told me I need more “emotional maturity.” Whatever the hell that is.
Like he wants me to be some lame ass college professor, all boring and shit.
Bitched my ass out when I asked if we could bring Sofia back.
Said that wasn’t space. But she had been gone for hours already. Like, how much space does someone need?
He yammered on about space. Need to let her breathe. Respect, blah blah blah. But he didn’t say the part I know now. The part about how much it sucks. How empty everything feels. How quiet my brain gets right before it gets loud again.
How I miss her.
Those swinging hoops when she’s snapping at me.
Her hands planted above her curvy as fuck hips like the boss bitch she is. Her DSLs that smile at my face and suck my dick. The way she calls me nene and means it. The way she dared me to fuck her harder, and I did. Shit in my chest gets tight again. Uncomfortable as hell.
I do the only logical thing to fix it. I throw both hands up and scream, “I’M KING OF THE WOOORRRLLLDDD!”
My foam finger flies off. I twist to see where it went, but it’s long gone. Diego thumps his helmet like he’s praying for me. Mas takes a hard turn, definitely on purpose, and the sidecar lifts on one wheel.
For half a second, I see the afterlife.
“WHOA BAT MOBILE, TAKE IT EASY!”
We land again with a bounce that rattles my spine.
Sends pain deep into my ribs. Motherfucker.
I slump back into the seat, heart racing, chest tight in a way that has nothing to do with fear.
Mas is doing his best not to kill me, but scare the shit out of me for sure.
It’s awesome. It chases my thoughts away from her.
But as Dom signals the exit, we fall into formation after him, and I whisper what I want the most.
“Miss you, my angel.”
It gets eaten by the wind, but I still feel it. Still feel the ache. Still feel the stupid, soft part of me that I usually pay no attention to.
Diego and Hollister zoom ahead, blocking the other lane for Mas to get over. Then we’re back at that shitty diner Dom walked out of once when Holli Balls said I was being too much. That was forever ago.
“CHICKEN NUGGETS FOR THIS CLOOOWN!”
Perfect fucking day.