Page 23 of Paco
He put his phone down and finished his beer, then gathered the plates and put them out in the hallway, texting the prospects to come pick them up.
He turned off the lights, and a sliver of moonlight spilled into the room. Going over to the window, he leaned against the sill and stared out. In the distance, the mountains were silhouetted against the deep velvety sky. His mother’s corpse jumped front and center in his mind. At first, he’d believed that the police were too lazy to find his mother’s real killer and settled on an easy target—his father. Kendra hadn’t been so quick to rule him out, but she hadn’t been as close to their dad as he had. And that was the reason the betrayal had pained him more than it had her.
As time had passed, the evidence against his dad had mounted: an addiction to strip bars, affairs with women he’d met online, taking out a million-dollar life insurance policy on his mother two months before she’d died.
How the fuck could you have done that to Mom? To us? You were married for eighteen fucking years. She trusted and loved you. We all did.
Anger burned in his veins as he picked up the desk chair and hurled it against the wall. The wood splintered and the broken chair hit the floor with a thud.
“Fuck!” He ran his hand through his hair, stiffening when he heard a knock on his door. “What?” he gritted out.
“Everything okay?” Sangre asked.
“Yeah. Just fucking pissed.”
“I hear you, bro.”
Listening to Sangre’s retreating footsteps, Paco went over and picked up the pieces of the chair. All of a sudden, the room seemed suffocating. He had to get the hell out of there. Grabbing his jacket, he scooped up his keys and dashed down the stairs.
The TV blasted as the brothers watched the boxing match televised from Mexico. He went over to Patches. “My desk chair broke. Make sure there’s a new one in my room when I get back.” Patches nodded.
“How’d your chair break?” Cueball asked as he stared at the television screen.
“I threw it against the wall.”
“That’ll do it.”
“I’m outta here. Later.”
Paco went outside. The sweet scent of the creosote bush, the eerie sounds of the screech owl blending with the yelps of the coyote, and the feel of the cool desert air beckoned him. Straddling his Harley, he sped out of the lot, steering his bike onto the back roads. He rode hard and fast until he reached that moment when everything came together. It was like his bike and he became one, a Zen-like state taking hold of him so he and the world were in total harmony. There was nothing like it. It was his addiction and his love.
And it was the only thing that kept the demons away for a while.
